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[WP] You're watching TV one day when suddenly, time stops. You spend the next 5 years trying to escape limbo. | The hard part was trying to keep track of time. How do you keep track of something that does not exist? Or, at least, doesn't exist at present time? Even that seemed absurd.
I've had a lot of time, or no time at all, to think about time. Time, when no time exists, is not comprehensible. At all. I have no idea how long I've been in this limbo any more. It must have been years.
With no running clocks, only day and no nights, no celestial movement, no seasons, no temperature changes wherever I go, no air movement, no changes to me; no hair growth, no nail growth, no need for food nor drink nor sleep and nothing moves except me, it is nearly impossible. What is an hour or a day or a year when everything stays the same all the time?
It all started when I was playing with my dog. We were 'fighting'. Suddenly Jack just froze. Mid air. I was, to put it mildly, perplexed. Everything I thought I knew about physics was under heavy attack. I called Mom. No response. I can still remember and recall the absolute horror I felt when I saw my Mother frozen the first time. She was taking some cookies out of the oven. Now she has stood there for what must have been years.
I can't interact with anything. Can't move anything. Except what I was wearing when time stopped; Sunday morning pants, a t-shirt, boxer shorts, my watch and a necklace. I'm unable to remove them; trying so makes them behave like rubber. I can perhaps move my t-shirt, with great effort, up to my jaw, but it snaps back in place immediately when I let go. Hadn't the back door been open I've would have been confined to the house. I've ventured out many times. I can walk, even run, without feeling any tiredness. Sometimes I lay down to try to sleep. Even in my bed even though the mess I left it in makes it feel like laying down in a rock bed. Everything is rock hard. Grass is like millions of needles. Leafs are like scalpels.
I can't get hurt. I can't experience damage, but the pain is there. Walking across the lawn without shoes is something I just can't get used to. Even though the pain goes away when I get to the sidewalk, the 13 steps across is a pain I would not wish upon my worst enemy.
I have no idea how to get out of this mess. I've tried everything. Mostly ways to kill my self. Or, the only way has really been jumping from heights. Nothing, except a split second of extreme pain, happens.
My dog. I sit by him often. Him mid air. Petting him has to be done with care. It feels like touching needles. But at this point anything is better than nothing. I've tried to recreate what happened when everything stopped. Even putting my left hand back in his mouth. Trying to find the exact position I was in. Nothing happens. I've done this thousands of times.
I'm going to try it again. It's not like I don't have time to do it again. I started jamming my hand back into his mouth. The hardest part was getting the watch past his molars. Well in there I noticed it: The crown was drawn out and in the adjust position. With my hand still in the dogs mouth I pushed it back in. Instantly there was a great jolt pushing me into what must have been the position I originally was in when the time froze. Suddenly everything moved. My dog moving was so surprising he dragged med on the floor, instantly starting to lick my face as to say sorry for what he must have thought was going too far in the playfight.
"Cookies are done!" I heard a voice say.
I hadn't spoken for a long time and hearing myself say "I'm comming!" was perplexing.
"Finally" I said entering the kitchen.
"Finally? I's only been 20 minutes since you asked if we could have cookies, give me a break"
"Sometimes 20 minutes can be a really long time when you wait for cookies", I said while I ate what was the best cookies I've ever tasted.
| Time stopped, but not for us.
Three of us were on that couch when it happened, but Jessie was coming from the kitchen. Mark, Jessie, Vikki and I were having a double date movie night watching The Shining, and Jack Torrence was tearing apart the door with his ax. He poked his head through, and just when he was about to say "Here's Johnny!" the TV froze. His rabid smile stuck on the screen. We waited, then I tried to change the channel, but still his face remained, seemingly staring at us. I tried to turn off the DVD player. Nothing.
"What the fuck? That was the best part," Vikki said.
"My thoughts exactly," I said, "Maybe it just needs to turn off or something."
Mark got up and moved toward the TV and said, "Good idea," and unplugged it.
Still, Jack Torrence stared.
"Okay, that's weird," I said, "Hey, Jessie. Does this ever-?"
Jessie was frozen, mid-stride, her face flat, expressionless.
Mark ran to her, "Jessie. Jess. What's wrong?"
Still she was frozen with a can of beer tight in her hand.
Vikki pointed out the window and yelped, "The cars. They're not moving."
The street was dark but the headlights of a dozen cars were still. But, suddenly, everything slightly moved and Jessie dropped her beer, but she remained frozen.
"Come on, Jess. What's wrong?" Marked asked, but quieted. Her eyes were big and her mouth was open and her throat ready to scream.
"Jessie," Vikki cried, "What's the matter?"
Everything remained - She screamed - She screamed - She screamed the same scream over and over like a skipping record. Jack Torrence likewise skipped, "Here's - Here's - Here's," and it stopped. Vikki cried and Mark hugged Jessie's stiff body, her arms up, bracing for something. He muttered, "Don't worry, Jess. I'm not leavin'."
Jessie's head jerked to us back and forth as she screamed "Help! Help! Help! Help!" and Jack Torrence said, "John - John - John - " and a thick black smoke jutted up before her, spindly silver spines shot out like claws from within it and wrapped around her and pulled itself tight to her. The thing covered her whole body until she was pitch black. She repeatedly screamed "Run! Run! Run!" but it was muffled and weak and Jack said, "-ny - ny- ny!" Then it was gone and Jessie was mid-stride before us, again, expressionless.
Mark said, "What the fuck is-"
The TV blared, "Here's Johnny!" and Jessie screamed, "HELP! RUN!" and she was enveloped by black and disappeared.
-------------------------
And that's all for now. | 2018-01-21T05:21:07 | 2018-01-20T22:47:15 | 35 | 13 |
[WP] 'Please Adopt Me', said the box on the side of the road, with the single black puppy in it. So you did. A year later, you realize the breed is a bit complicated, considering it has three heads, a snake tail, and breathes fire. | So, I adopted this puppy. Black as overbrewed coffee, a hairless tail with *scales*, and three heads.
From a box. I figured someone thought he'd end up being put down and just abandoned the little guy because birth defects. Well, not a problem. I'm a dog lover. Even a dog with a few extra heads. Means he'll be smarter than the one I had who liked to run into windows and bark at nothing in the middle of empty rooms.
One week in, I realized paper training wasn't a good idea as I watched all three heads give me a guilty look.
Because he'd kinda had an accident. Like puppies do. Only he ended up barfing flames. On the newspaper. Fortunately, he'd peed on it first and it just left a smouldering spot.
Spot. That's the name for this little fella. He is gonna end up SUCH a star on WhoTube with that little trick, but not until he grows up.
...I had no idea he'd grow this much. He's easily as big as I am, nomming away at a big ol' bowl of dog kibble. Fortunately, we have a few acres for a back yard here, so Spot gets his run-around time and I can put out anything he lights up chasing the squirrels. Nothing gets past this doggo, he sees em a mile away and ROOF RUFF RORF off he goes.
A little unbalanced, mind you. Three heads are a little topheavy and they don't always seem to work together perfectly, so there's plenty of plow marks to go with the scorch marks. Still, it's been a fun eight months.
...the owner showed up today. Well, he claimed he was the owner.
Tall, pale as a bouquet of white lilies. Said someone had stolen his puppy and he'd finally tracked the dog down. Said to name my price for taking care of Spot.
I told him taking care of such a good dog was reward enough, and I wasn't going to send him off alone with a stranger. That Spot was my friend, and I wasn't going to let him go off gods-know-where with someone I never saw before in my life.
He looked startled. Then he smiled.
"A man who loves his dog so much? Your boon is granted."
That's how I became the Keeper of Hounds here. In Tartarus. That big fella over there is Keberos, and he managed- somehow - to get some happy time with one of the hellhounds.
Spot is romping with the pack inside the Dog Park of Damnation. I've got enough severed limbs for everybody. And you know what?
They're good dogs, if you love them enough. And I do. Dunno how my drachmas are going to cash out when I retire from this job, but I figure gold and silver works pretty much everywhere. Now, if you'll excuse me, they're using some poor soul as a chew toy and I think he actually belongs in the lake of molten fire.
"Drop it...drop it...Hey! I said DROP THE DAMNED SOUL. Attagirl. Go play with Spot." | I've never been much of a dog person. Honestly I wasn't much of an animal person, though I'd certainly argue certain points. I never wanted a pet, or a companion, or anything of the sort.
So, you might ask, why was there a puppy in my room? Well, long story short, it was fuckin adorable. Big ass eyes, looking all pitiful and loveable. And now I have a puppy.
I don't know how to take care of a puppy, but that was the least of my concerns as time went on. Somehow, all the puppy's toys were being burned to a crisp. Turns out the lil shit could breathe fire.
Then, his tail grew into a snake. A fully autonomous snake. So now I had two pets, and I'll remind you, i didn't even want one.
But of course, that couldn't be the end. *He grew two more heads!* And guess what? All those could breathe fire too!
These...abnormalities all happened in the space of a month. Thankfully, the dog(s?) ate dog food and the snake ate mice. Honestly, as long as I let Kirby out to let off a little steam (Read: Fire) he seemed content.
Until the day he talked.
"Hey, uhh, Human? Why do I only get this dead dry stuff? The tail gets live meat..."
I set down the book I was trying to finish, and gave Kirby a deadpan glance.
"How long have you been able to talk?"
He paused to consider the question, the snake curling around to join in the pondering.
"Like...always? I think? I just never had anything th say." I let him out to hunt after that.
Honestly, I'm not much of an animal person. But a Cerberus? I think I can make an exception a time or 3. | 2019-07-04T08:26:40 | 2019-07-04T07:02:31 | 165 | 29 |
[WP] A ship crashes on Earth. Inside, you find a bunch of texts books. After years of translating these texts, you discover one of them in a book entirely about the human species, as documented by whatever inhabited the crashed ship. Here are some of the excerpts: | Verbal Entry 19072014-1A
Humans showed great promise, having passed 18 of the 19 benchmarks to be welcomed into the galactic fold. But, alas, tragedy has struck.
A wave of parasites has begun infecting the general population. They've flowed across the globe, latching on like what humans refer to as 'ticks.' Despite a silicon-based nervous system, they somehow forged a cognitive link with their host human. It must be noted that these pests also seem to possess an exploitable plastic skeletal structure. Sadly, they have already begun to adapt to compensate.
They now mandate that the first human they contact reinforce their frail bodies. From a range of rubber to plastic casings, humans offer tribute to these fickle overlords. The only certain method of extermination seems to be dropping them in a toilet or a glass of water. Still, even in extreme situations humans will cannabilize other parasites to repair their own.
This seems to be most common when the creature's clear face is broken. The disturbance interferes with an optical chemcial transfer that the parasite utilizes. Such interruption typically results in withdrawal symptoms and mild complaining in the host
Due to such, productivity has ground to a standstill. Chores go undone and words go unsaid. Just yesterday I observed a familial unit not speak once for 11 hours straight.
A species, so young and so naive, has been caged before they could fly. It is advised that contact be limited until further notice. In order to avoid contamination, I will be exiting the atmosphere to establish a quaratine zone.
Awaiting further order, Major Zelio-
Oh, hey, more lives in Candy Crush. A few rounds before I finish up couldn't hurt anything.
Verbal Log End_End of Logs
(Hope it isn't too bad, wrote this at 4:30 on my phone while in bed. Enjoy!) | "...Human codex, Entry 24:
Their species generally have a lifespan of 80 to 90 solar rotation. And they have only existed for merely few thousands solar rotation..."
"...For a species so naturally proned toward violence and war, they are incredibly resilient as well. Example: human species rely on crude 'medicines' to survive fatal diseases. And it works most of the time. Their biology makeup allowed them to adapt incredibly fast to foreign matters..."
"...They've advanced far for a short-lived species. Hypothesis: it is because of their short lifespan that gives them the incredible drive and conviction to work so hard toward their goals..." | 2018-06-30T01:30:18 | 2018-06-29T23:37:31 | 19 | 11 |
[WP]. “Ok. This is called a .44 magnum. All you have to do is point this end at Voldemort’s head and press this button. That’s all you have to do to end our problem”. | “Alohomora.”
Voldemort spoke with command and confidence. He was here to put an end to that stupid prophesy about a ‘*Chosen One*’ once and for all. Nothing and no one would stop him. It was his destiny to restore wizards to their rightful, pure blooded ruling caste in this world.
James leapt for the drawer under his desk. “Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off.”
What was once Tom Riddle came pacing through the entryway. No Death Eaters. No Dementors. No tricks. It was this family of mediocre mages against him, the most powerful wizard in two generations.
James scrambled to grab his wand in his left hand and shut the false bottom in the base of his desk drawer.
“Hello, Potters. I know you’re home. I came to see your darling baby boy. What did you name the little bundle of *joy*? Nothing strange, I hope. He might not be able to live with it otherwise. Ha! hahaha...,” the self-proclaimed Dark Lord laughed gently at his own joke and moved further into the small home in Godric’s Hollow.
Upstairs a door slammed shut and a tiny cry could be heard, small but clear. “Now now. No hiding from Uncle Voldy,” he chided. Turning to look toward the source of the sound.
Behind him, James stood up from inside the study. Even without turning around, Voldemort could feel an arm raise and point in his direction.
“Expelliarmus!” In a flourish of black robes and lightening reflexes, he spun and disarmed the pathetic man standing behind him.
James felt his wand go flying out of his hand and spinning into the darkness somewhere in the kitchen. The look of mild surprise and questioning on Voldemort’s face lasted a fraction of a second. It almost made him look human again. *click*
“AVADA KA-“
*BOOM*
A heap of black robes hit the floor and a splattering of crimson flung itself up the staircase and reached halfway up to the ceiling on the wall beside them.
James’ whole body was shaking, his ears were ringing from the bark of the strange American device Mad Eye has given him many months ago, and a good portion of his lower arm was numb.
“What a strange and wild world those muggles must live in,” he said.
His son was crying upstairs. Placing the smoking object back into its hiding spot and closing the drawers, James went to reunite with his family. They’d need to call Sirius next. | "Welp here I am at the final battle of Hogwarts."Harry thought to himself as he saw Voldemort approach the school. "I'm probably fucked at this point anyway he said as he looked at his fallen friends around him." Voldemort approached with his army at his back knowing this was the end of his long road. Harry stood his ground shaken but not afraid of the evil coming toward him. Suddenly Voldemort stopped and gleamed at Harry. The bald evil figure looked like it was about to speak when suddenly BANG! a shot rang out across the courtyard, both parties looked toward the sound to see a first year student named Timmy holding a very large pistol with both hands. The loud bang was followed by a thud and very loud high pitch scream. A scream which seemed to have originated from Bellatrix Lestrange now covered in blood. Down at her feet was the a jumble of dark robes which after a longer glance belonged to the dark lord Voldemort. The courtyard, still silent for several seconds without to inclusion of Bellatrix's whimpers was greeted by a soft laughter. The laughter came from Timmy, still holding the gun. Timmy while giggling said,"Honestly you guys are all idiots." He drops the gun and walks away. Harry still staring in amazement at what just happened thinks to himself, "Wow I guess hoaxcroxes don't work after all." .....Credits Roll..... | 2018-12-24T20:14:50 | 2018-12-24T20:12:43 | 1,137 | 13 |
[WP]: There is a special place in Hell for english teachers. Not because they had any more tendency for evil than anyone else, but because there are so many subtle ways to torture them that wouldn't bother anyone else. | Ms. Ellis’ fingernails dig into the table, leaving marks on the wooden surface. She stares at the words that appeared on the wall from their conversation earlier. Her attempts to reach for the chisel in front of her are pointless as she is chained to her chair.
The demon chuckles as it sits on the stool nearby. “I don’t see why you’re so bent out of shape. It’s a perfectly common practice.”
Ms. Ellis can feel the veins on her temple throbbing.
The demon continues. “I mean, it’s no less common as ending sentences with a preposition, starting sentences with ‘however’ or saying ‘email’ instead of ‘e-mail.’”
Word for word, the sentence slowly etches itself into the wall. Ms. Ellis’ breathing intensifies. She realized quickly that if she isn’t careful, her sentence appears up on the wall too.
The demon turns and smiles. “Oh look, another example, right below this one about who I invited here. You remember, right? It’s the one where I invited the giant gargoyles, Charlie Chaplin and Groucho Marx?”
Another sentence appears. Deeper nail marks on the table.
“What shall we ask them to bring? How about something to drink, cake and pie?”
Another sentence.
“And when they get here, let’s play some soothing music, heavy metal and polka.” Another-
Ms. Ellis slams her fists on the table. “PUT IN THE OXFORD COMMA, YOU MONSTER!" | I went to hell and they kept on making me read runon sentences. Next door to my hell was one where cooks were provided with shakers that had too small of holes in them for the spices to come out. I realized that every profession had aspect that drove them crazy because they were experienced in their fields... | 2018-08-08T15:31:56 | 2018-08-08T14:55:46 | 211 | 17 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | Barry was nervous. Tonight he'd go to bed a 17 year old and wake up an 18 year old with his power.
What category would he get? There's the three categories: Body, Mind, and Mobility. Body can be anything from strength, to scales. Mind could be super intelligence, to knowledge of a specific category. Mobility could be flight, to the ability to vibrate.
There's no telling what I'll get from my parents. They're one of the few times a major fell in love with a minor power. My father has the ability to fill any container or vessel with the non-alcoholic beverage of his choice. My mother has super intelligence, and never forgets anything. Anything.
I felt my eyes getting heavy and the world going dark. I dreamed of all the things I could do, all the people I could save. All the girls I could pull.
When I woke up I lay in bed, trying to figure out if I felt any different. Nothing so far. I carefully started testing all my limbs, making sure I didn't break anything. Nothing. I checked my skin. Still looks normal.
I looked around my room. My eyes fell on the glass of water next to my bed, and I knew.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed, falling from my bed to the floor.
My father found me huddled and crying.
"What? Barry, what is it?"
I pointed to the glass of water, "That ain't juice."
My father was confused. He grabbed the glass, and poured it into the trash, them materialized some orange juice in the glass, holding it out to me.
I sobbed to him, "That... That is juice."
My power? Knowledge of Juice. | "Teleportation"
Nobody had ever gotten this one before. I was ecstatic for 5 minutes, until I actually tried it. With a POP, I vanished and reappeared in the seat across from me, naked and hairless, missing my clothes, the top layer of my skin, the contents of my GI tract, my fillings... lord knows what else was in that pile across from me. | 2015-03-28T07:22:07 | 2015-03-28T06:58:31 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] When you meet someone new, a creature is summoned that represents your relationship with that person. The creature is only around when you are with that person. One day, the creature between you and a lost loved one appears and wont go away.
:) | ######[](#dropcap)
It couldn't be.
I watched as Stella, who had been gone for nearly a year now, appeared in front of me. She casually swiped at her ear with her paw and then jumped onto the coffee table in front of me, her tail whisking back and forth. Her green eyes stayed trained on me.
She had been my constant companion in the days after Katherine's death and had been the only thing to make me feel better. I had had nightmares for weeks following the car accident, still able to feel the phantom kiss on my lips right before I saw Katherine knocked into the air by a semi. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I would ever recover.
But I guess it's true what they say about time healing all wounds. Stella had gone everywhere with me the first year, never leaving my side. But slowly, she began to disappear. At first it was hours at a time. Then for weeks. And finally, one day, she just upped and left. I hadn't seen her again until now.
"Stella." I reached out to try and pet her, but she simply turned her head and laid down, tail twitching.
I frowned. She had never been belligerent with me before. Even when I had almost drank myself into the ground with guilt in the days after the accident, she had only ever been understanding. Even when I had ended up in the hospital, she had only laid on top of my wrist, her body warm, purring.
"What's wrong?"
Of course, she didn't answer. But the answer became abundantly clear when I heard a knock on my apartment door. I went to open it, only to reveal a small face with large round glasses and pixie hair. I heard a small meowing from behind me, just before a small shadow darted out the door toward the girl.
"Hey, Lexa." I gave my next-door neighbor a warm smile. "Did you need anything?" I watched in shock as Stella rubbed up against her legs and purred.
Lexa's face turned bright red. She shoved a ceramic plate toward me.
"Um, no. I mean yes. I wanted to bring you some cookies since I baked a lot extra, and I thought, 'why not share then?' and since you liked the cookies so much last time, I thought - "
"Thank you." I interrupted her before she could continue rambling on. From experience, I knew that if I didn't stop her, she could continue talking for at least 10 minutes. I learned that the hard way the first time she brought brownies over, when I had stood in front of my door stupidly, waiting for her to finish the longest sentence in the world. I gave her a warm smile. "Let me grab the plate from last time. I really enjoyed the cake."
She nodded enthusiastically. "If you enjoyed it, I can make it again!"
I simply nodded and headed back into my kitchen to grab the plate from my counter. I smiled at the small cats in various poses bordering the edge of the plate. When I neared the front door, however, I nearly dropped it.
Lexa had bent down and was petting Stella, scratching her behind the ears. And Stella was purring so loudly her body seemed to vibrate. When Lexa saw me, she stood up quickly, nearly losing her balance. I stuck out a hand to help her, but she managed to grab the wall and steady herself.
She blushed, seemingly embarrassed.
Before I could help myself, the words seemed to spill out of my mouth.
"Did you know Katherine?" I didn't even know what prompted the question. Well, actually, I did. It was the shock that Lexa could see Stella. After all, Stella represented Katherine's and my relationship. It shouldn't have been possible.
Lexa simply looked confused. I shook my head. "Never mind."
"Oh. Okay." She gave me a shy smile. She shuffled her feet, biting her lip. Her eyes looked everywhere but at me. I stood, waiting for her to speak. "Did you...nextweekendareyoufree?" The words came out jumbled together.
I became silent. I knew what she wanted. And I knew what I had been avoiding for the past half a year. I just wasn't sure if I was ready.
A soft mew shook me out of my reverie, and I glanced down to see Stella looking at me, her gaze clear. Her tail twitched lazily, even as she stayed put next to Lexa's feet.
And all of a sudden, I understood. And at the same time, I understood why Stella had come back.
"Yeah." I looked back up at Lexa, my heart calm. "I'm free on Saturday."
She let go of the breath she was holding. "Do you wanna watch a movie Saturday night?" The words came out clearer this time.
"Yeah." I gave her a small smile. "That sounds great."
She nodded, then shuffled her feet again. "Well, I'll be off. See you Saturday!" She sprinted towards her door, disappearing inside almost immediately. I stared at the empty spot in front of my door for a moment before looking back down at the cat that was now walking back into my apartment, her gait lazy. She seemed almost proud. For the first time in a long time, I felt at peace.
"Thank you."
Stella simply meowed, then laid down in a ray of warm sunlight.
*****
r/AlannaWu
| Jerry fell back into a dining room chair staring at his bowl of freshly poured cereal. A sharp throbbing pain in his head left a pitiful expression on his face while resisting the urge to vomit from the lingering scent of whiskey in the air. With each breath he cursed the pain while simultaneously swearing to himself that he would never drink again.
“Last night was a lot of fun right Jerry!?” came a loud voice high pitched voice from the other side of the table.
“I met so many other creatures and we played games and they told some of the stories from their humans and we even made a fortress.” Said a passionate voice.
Jerry’s instantly felt worse as he lifted his eyes to the other side of the table to see Chachi. Chachi was always a little strange to Jerry because these creatures were supposed to represent the relationship between two people. Having a walking talking blue bunny with a horn on its head was a bit too cute for Jerry.
“Why are you still here?” Jerry slurred.
“I don’t know.” Chachi shrugged. “I like to think that it’s because this place is so much fun.”
Chachi jumped up onto the table, sat in front of Jerry, and began eating the cereal.
“I mean there’s sooo much going on around here you know? I mean last night I met someone that has been to Japan. Did you know they have all-you-can eat dessert places over there!? That’s insane! We should go!” Chachi declared.
“Chachi!” Jerry shouted. “Why are you still here!? You should be gone! You shouldn’t exist anymore! You have no purpose being here do you understand!? Go away!”
A brief moment of silence took place as Chachi and Jerry stared at each other. Chachi put down the spoon full of cereal and stood up.
“I like you Jerry.” Said Chachi. “You might hate me. But I always did like you. I’m sorry to bug you.”
Chachi hopped off the table and began to exit the room.
Just before exiting Chachi turned toward Jerry, “By the way it’s been two weeks. I think you should say hi.”
Jerry stared at his partially eaten bowl of cereal for a minute then stood from his chair to make his way to his medicine cabinet. There he took a couple pills to ease the pain in his head and made his way back to his bed. As the hours passed so too did the headache and the nausea, but Jerry still did not feel better. He stared at the ceiling above his bed lost in his thoughts.
“I don’t want say hi.” He thought out loud before forcing himself out of bed.
“I shouldn’t need to say hi.” He continued as he dressed himself.
After getting fully clothed Jerry walked into the kitchen to grab his car keys. A short search later Jerry found Chachi doodling on some notepads in a guest room.
“Hey” Jerry said hesitantly. “I’m uh…do you want to come?”
Without a word Chachi put down his coloring pencils and began to follow Jerry out of the house. After a silent forty minute drive Jerry and Chachi arrived at a cemetery where they made their way to a gravestone with the name Michelle engraved into it.
“Hi” said Jerry. “Oh crap, I’m supposed to bring flowers aren’t I? I’m sorry…I uh…I’ve never done this before.”
Jerry paused for a bit as if waiting for a response.
“I’m sorry that I haven’t been around much. I just never thought I would have to do this you know? Um…Chachi is doing well. You know he won’t leave me alone.” Jerry forced a chuckle. “I hate him you know? Every time I see I’m reminded that you’re not here. But at the same time I don’t think I want him to go away.”
Chachi took hold of Jerry’s pants as if to hold his hand.
“Um…are you doing well? I imagine you are. You seem like you’re getting a lot of rest.” Jerry’s voice began to crack as tears fell down his cheeks.
“I miss you you know? I feel lost without you around. And I really hope you can forgive me.”
Jerry knelt in front of the grave as he apologized. In continued silence Chachi let go of Jerry’s pants and embraced his friend’s arm with a comforting hug. | 2018-03-21T14:16:17 | 2018-03-21T13:59:10 | 48 | 14 |
[WP] You wear magic dampening bands normally reserved for keeping criminals from casting spells. Why? Because your spells are ludicrously more powerful than average, and the bands limit you enough to not break everything. | The smoke drifted into the air above the city, black and red, and as much like a demon as any we had fought in the Lost Forest.
"Daniel," said Raul, as he came panting to the side of my horse. "Daniel, do you see?"
I said no words as I spurred my horse onwards, galloping furiously towards Agdar. Behind me, my small company that had survived the fruitless quest into the forest, began to follow.
The city reeked of death. Of blood and piss and innards. Body parts lay strewn on the cobbled streets, as if hands and heads were no more than leaves and horse-shit.
We had been led on a ruse. Our mission, ostensibly to find the missing King of the Fire Mines, where new information had led us into the Lost Forest, had been a lie. We had been manipulated so that my small army of elites would leave Adgar. Whatever had come to the city after we had left, the guards had been no match. Neither had the wall provided any cover. It lay as rubble, smouldering and broken.
The palace burned in the distance and my heart sank as I rode past the Queen and her children, hung naked from gallows in the town square. Innards spilled out of long incissions down their stomachs. They were not my concern though, not in that moment. Only my wife mattered to me then.
There came a blood-curdling scream from somewhere behind me. Raul, who had gained on me riding swift on his steed, lay burning like a binfire on the cobbled ground near the dead Queen, wriggling and writhing. I stopped and turned, almost being flung off my horse as I did so.
Three figures in black rags had appeared, from what shadows I know not, surrounding his body as he rolled in pain trying to quench the hungry fire. Flames brewed from the hands of the nearest sorcerers. Sorcerers I recognised as apprentices of the missing King.
A tunnel of flame leapt from the sorcerer's fingers, burning Raul's head down to the bone.
I heard screams all around me. The rest of my company. I had led them into an ambush, in my haste.
A whip of fire snapped from a cloaked figure, towards my horse. It missed, but scared her enough to buck onto her hinds and send me falling.
The creatures aporoached; I scrambled to my knees and began to cast, channelling all my anger and hatred into a single spell. Only the bands I wore around both wrists saved me from destroying myself in the process. A bolt of pure white light exploded from the ground beneath them, shredding the cobble to dust and sending the figures into the air. Nothing but ash came back down.
I got back to my feet and sprinted the rest of the way to my home. Soon, I laid eyes upon it. It burned and smouldered like all the others.
As did Elaine's body.
Her skin was charred black. Her eyes burned away. She had been chained to her bed, prior to the fire. I could only imagine what they did to her before they let her burn alive.
I cursed God and swore vengeance upon an entire kingdom, even if I had to bring wrath alone. I would be the messenger of the apocalypse.
The snapping of a twig alerted me; half a dozen more dark sorcerers had entered the remains of my home.
A fireball screeched as it was sent into me, throwing me against the wall and scorching the skin beneath my tunic. I tried to cast, a ray of light left me but was easily deflected. Then, they were upon me. Not spells this time, but boots and fists and iron.
God help me.
Somehow, between blows, I managed to rip first the left binding, and then the right, from off my wrists. The words of Forlen, my teacher long ago, ran through my mind. *Never remove either binding, if you value the lives of any you loved.*
But they were all dead. What did it matter now?
The light that came from me was not white, not this time. It was a tangle of purple and black. It engulfed first me, then the sorcerers, the house, and finally the city. It seemed to explode my entire being, ripping my muscles from my body.
Then, the dark light stopped and I fell to the ground unconcious.
---
I woke to what felt like a stick being dragged over my back. Then over my hair. A clicking sound rang in my ear.
My eyes slowly opened.
Hot vomit made its way up my throat as I pushed myself away from the charred figure standing in front of me.
Elaine's jaw was little more than bone and sinew. Her tongue was gone, and as she tried to speak, she clicked and rattled.
More of them walked in. Skeletons of those I recognised.
Raul.
The city guards.
The Queen and her children, their rotting stomachs still open.
"King of the dead," came a whisper. A dozen figures surrounded me, touching gently as they whispered. "King of the dead, avenge us."
| Beneath the eye of the moon, the hissing winds swept away the subtle grate of a window shrieking open. A moment later, a cloaked figure leaped out the narrow opening, and sprinted across the barren fields toward the desolate streets of the city.
The figure moved with an odd determination, disregarding the strength of the currents, as if they were naught but a summer breeze.
Soon, the tender lights of the hearths shifting out the windows and onto the streets illuminated the shadows beneath the cloak, revealing the figure's visage. He was a boy, with eyes red as fire, and hair the color of bone.
He went through bridges were the fog hung low, and alleys the moonlight feared, until he reached an alleyway where a column of piled pebbles blazed with green fire. Its light was dim, weak as that of a candle, but it was enough to etch the woman swathed in rags beside it.
She looked at him through eyes dark as the night. Her wrists were bound with ivory bands. "What pleasant surprises the winds bring," she said, and tilted her head. "I've been waiting for you boy."
The certainty in the boy's step faded. His cloak billowed with the gusts, yet the tremor of his extremities was visible in the rapid motions of his sleeves. He took a step back. "It was a mistake. I apologize."
"What was a mistake?" she said, and gestured for him to come closer. The boy didn't want to, but it was too late, for his legs were moving in their own volition. "Nothing is ever a mistake but the path fate chose for us."
The boy nodded. "I came, yes. I do not know why. I can't explain it. I wouldn't have come if I would've known you would be here. I thought you were imprisoned."
The woman chuckled, gazed at the fire-imbued pebbles. "You would have come either way, for I called you, and for that I apologize. It's not my intention to force you to carry a burden you never asked for. I do not know why is you who I had to call. The stars told me to, and they refuse to explain the reason behind their decision. But one thing you have to know, and that is that tonight I will leave, at last, this soil and this life."
"What?" the boy cried, gasping. "But you are Areneta, Fate-bender, Light of the Moon. You can't die. Even Death has admitted his fear of you."
"He did, yes," she said, and flaunter the bands on her wrists. "But times have changed. I limited myself to prevent a catastrophe. See, I don't think many minds can sustain my power without shattering, and I fret mine was on the verge of snapping. I had no choice, unfortunately. Death knows that, and so he will soon come, for with this bands I'm no opponent to his scythe." She drew a deep breath. "I'm fine with that. My time has come, yet one thing I have to give you before joining the stars."
"What is it?" the boy asked, swallowing hard. His lips quivered and cracked.
She handed him a thin book. "The secrets of my life, the secrets of my power, they are all written there. It's your time to shine now, Intanis. But always remember you have the choice. You can burn it, and risk turning the fate of all things. Or you can read it, and follow what it says, following the written fate of all things. It's your choice."
Intanis frowned, his heart thumped. "But--but I don't know about magic."
There was no answer. The pebbles extinguished, and the shadows engulfed the alley. Amidst them, only the book shone.
Intanis gazed at the stars. "Why?" he cried, and his hands reached for the book.
---------------------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn | 2019-01-06T09:47:51 | 2019-01-06T09:47:26 | 452 | 41 |
[WP] The world is divided into 2 societies: one for those with powers and one without, with strict rules of no interaction. However, with most of the superheroes defeated and the villains on the verge of winning, you have no choice but to cross over and seek help from the non-powered humans | There's something about their quiet presences that makes my stomach twist a bit. I can't shake the feeling that, any minute now, one might simply... evaporate me? Read my mind. Control me to commit atrocities.
I hear, in the old day, it was out of concern for the common folk, the 'innocents,' so to say, that the fighting never got this far. It had all been comic mischief, it had all been about robbing banks and taking over cities and stealing gear.
Not genocide. How things have changed.
It made sense that the mundanes, the normals, the commonfolk would want to escape the violence still. Even back then, there'd been casualties. Even back then, so really, could we ask them to stand around and absorb blow after blow, loss to their communities, deaths of family and friends, just to prevent one side or another from going over the top.
Put in so many words, my heart sinks further as I walk cloaked through the capital city. What am I hoping to accomplish here? Lady Magenta or Detrict the Foresaken could wipe this entire place in a blink of an eye.
Nonetheless, I arrive at the city hall, where the governor of the district has agreed to meet me. In secret, of course. We aren't supposed to cross over. We're never supposed to cross over. In fact, it's so dangerous that I'm here, that part of me suspects a trap.
But there is no cry or shout of attack as I slip in, heart skipping in my chest. I follow the directions he's provided me, twisting through the halls of the capitol building, until I tap three times on a small wooden door.
"Enter."
The man's cool voice does little to soothe me but I draw my coat around me and do as he's commanded.
"Mr. Governor, sir," I say, bowing my head.
"I... why, you're just a child!"
The surprise in his voice surprises me too and I look up at him.
"Thirteen, sir. Who else did you expect? The treaty wouldn't allow-"
"It wouldn't allow *any* of your kind here." The older man stares at me, still dumbfounded, from across a small desk. "Why should I have expected such a young woman?"
I bow my head again. "With all due respect, Mr. Governor, I meant our treaty. The one prohibiting violence against the youth of our territory. Most Light Powered supers are driven deep underground, with kill-on-sight 'legal,' more or less." I swallow hard and look back up at him. "It's only the children that are allowed out in public, to shop, get food, try to organize. We're the only reason any Light Powers still exist. But King Obsidian is looking to overturn the Youth Protection Act. After that, we'll all be killed."
I try to keep my voice steady here but judging by the way his bushy white eyebrows furrow and his dark eyes shimmer in the light, I've failed.
"I didn't realize... or rather, I knew things had gotten bad. I hadn't quite realized to what extent. Miss. I'm so sorry."
"I don't need apologies." My voice is too hard but I can't cry here. "I need help. We need help." Part of me almost breaks and spills, how there is no help to be had, how the mundanes couldn't possibly be able to help us, how the best they could possibly do is grant asylum to our survivors, but even that would violate the treaty between Supers and mundanes, lead to more widespread death.
There's nothing they can do. I'm only here because I was appointed by Lestra Lucrative to come. Because she vouched for me on the eve of her 18th birthday. Because she'd died the next day, leaving me with nothing but respect for her legacy and a bitter, hardened cause in my chest.
To my surprise, the governor sighs, but not with defeat.
"I'm not sure how you found out," he said. "But then again, I suppose if things truly have gotten bad, it could make sense. What did you say your powers were, again?"
I close my eyes and will my flock to come to me. Not every Super has the power of fire or death or psionics. Some of us have pretty things. Like my birds.
After a moment, I open my eyes and look around the room. But my heart is in my throat, for no pearlescent, white doves sit atop the small books and shelves in the cramped, secret office.
"I don't understand," I whisper. "I'm sorry. They should be here. The Ivory Heralds. My birds."
He shakes his head. "I only agreed to meet with you here because we 'mundanes,' as you call us, have perfected magic nullifying technology. We got it done some century ago. *That's* what spurred the treaty. We never would have had leverage otherwise."
I stare, frozen, at this. So the mundanes have not simply been living by our generosity. It never would have crossed my mind that we hadn't a choice.
"So you can help," I say, not bothering to ask specifics. I don't really care. "We can evacuate members of our people here? It wouldn't be everyone, we couldn't manage that, but perhaps some of the littlest ones? Just to-- just to have our legacies live on?"
The man looks outraged at my suggestion. "Move them here? Take on a few survivors? Absurd, girl. Simply absurd."
My shoulders drop and when I speak again, my voice is tiny. "Then you can't help."
He stands up and puts a large, rough hand on my back. "Not like that." Now his voice has quieted, not quite to match mine but enough to make me look back in his eyes. "Our technology has outpaced that of your land's by quite a bit. Magic doesn't lend itself to scientific progress, but that's alright. You never needed it to defend yourselves. Or maybe you did but didn't know it til too late. Us commonfolk, however, have been preparing for a war for some time."
"Why?" I ask. "We never indicated a desire to attack you."
"Because that's how these things work. It does not do, to live by the goodwill of others."
The world is always more complicated than I think. Just when I feel confident I have my finger on a situation, it slips, shifts, and grows a thousand times more intricate.
I never would have expected the mundanes to have the capacity to help. I never would have expected them to have the *willingness* to help.
And I never expected to be sitting in the mundane governor's secret office, looking at maps and charts and screens, poring over what could be done, not simply to save a legacy, but to save my people entirely. I never would have expected, upon donning my coat, that I might actually do some good on Lestra's last mission.
But here I am. And I am not backing down.
___
Read more stories at [r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide](https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide/) | It started with a bang. Or to be more specific, a series of bangs. In 1972, the world's powers were at wit's end with one another, and a failed coup attempt was the final trigger on this particular powderkeg. The aftermath from a global war wasn't nearly as bad as anyone had predicted, but it certainly had unintended side effects.
By 2043 humanity had managed to regain some semblance of past normalcy, and that's when the first superhuman mutation was discovered. A man by the name of Gregory Graves, who would go on to become the father of modern day superheroes, was the most famous case of what would later become known as The Cold War Kids. As civilization first attempted to rebuild itself, it became the newly established U.C.N.'s (Unified Coalition of Nations) first priority to get a handle on these super powered individuals before things escalated from bad to worse.
A supervillain who would later go on to call himself “The Volcano” was the first to test the limits of this still burgeoning civilization. It wasn’t long before anyone with half a mind to stitch themselves a costume was running out on the streets playing vigilante with their unrestrained and untested powers. Imagine giving a room full of toddlers access to the nuclear launch codes and then stepping out for a smoke. It took them a whopping five years to fully establish and work the kinks out of the ESD (Electronic Superhuman Database); an expansive electronic record of every single registered supe' currently known to any of the various governmental agencies around the world. Registered being the operative word, given the vast number of unchecked nutjobs running around in the world.
By 2071, the unpowered world had become fed up with the rampant property destruction brought on by the ever raging super war. A decision was made, and all humans registered with the ESD were relocated to a large portion of the planet that was rendered more or less permanently unviable due to nuclear fallout. The heroes and villains didn't care all that much, just happy to have a new playground in which to do "great battle" with one another. No one was sure if it was a psychosomatic reaction, or an evolutionary trait invoked by the superhuman gene, but without a doubt these individuals loved fighting one another.
In the current year of 2101, the population of villains outnumbered heroes five to one, and the rate of decline seemed to be exponential. A small group of heroes, known collectively as Sword & Shield, were at the forefront of the battlegrounds. Their small cadre consisted of The Tank, the leader - a beast of a man who was all but indestructible - Shadowlance, a woman that could phase through any type or state of matter, and Trinity; he was able to manipulate the elements of fire, water and wind any way he saw fit. Even though this trio was able to tackle any threats that had come their way thus far, they were all three keenly aware that it was only a matter of time before their luck ran out. Sure, the non-powered world had The Gallows, but it was no replacement for what groups like this could offer.
As soon as the governments realized they had a bunch of superpowered serial killers on their hands, they needed a place to put them, and fast. By 2083, there were more than half a million registered superhumans globally. No agency had the exact figures, but by all accounts the number of undocumented supes was probably double that. Enter Crescendo; your run-of-the-mill sadistic mercenary for hire group run by a mysterious figurehead that subordinates only ever referred to as Alice. This particular outfit started establishing a name for itself in the early days of the “supe epidemic” by making a killing (literally) in the pursuit and apprehension of dangerous superhumans. It basically turned out to be a publicity campaign for them when foreign governments showed up at their door asking them to take care of the worst offenders that couldn’t be contained by conventional means. This brute squad got to work and converted a decommissioned old military base into Galloway Penitentiary for the Superhuman. It didn't take long for anyone who stayed there to understood why it earned the nom de guerre, “The Gallows”.
Because it was a privately owned facility, things like “oversight” and “mutual respect” were very, very low on the priority list. So low, in fact, that they were largely nonexistent. The other glaringly odd thing was that no prisoner had ever seen this elusive Alice; but by god did they command the fear and respect of every officer and grunt working for them. Any time the name was mentioned, it was spoken with hushed tones of reverence. It was almost cult-like in the way they revered their leader, but the comparisons to a cult end there. At least with cults, there was the possibility of drug fueled sex parties (just don’t drink anything you’re offered). The Gallows did not have any good variety of either drugs or sex. Plenty of the bad though, in spades.
Sword & Shield knew they would need help from the outside. Their first goal would be figuring out how to get over the wall dividing The Quarry - the expansive badlands where all supes were exiled - and the remainder of the world. Not only was every inch covered in antipersonnel artillery, but also various electrical and chemical defenses to cover the gamut of powers contained within. Thankfully, one member of this outfit had no trouble getting in - or out - of nearly any situation. Shadowlance's next mission would be locating the one man on the other side that might give them a fighting chance. There were many things the supervillains as a whole were resistant against. But over the years, there was one very specific aspect of human advancement they started to neglect -- science. And recently, there were murmurs whispered around the world about a non powered man who was fighting - and winning - against supervillains using nothing but his own inventions.
-----
feedback / crit welcome! i may add to this later | 2021-01-29T09:06:32 | 2021-01-29T05:30:32 | 962 | 51 |
[WP] Today on your 18th birthday you’re informed that your Middle Class life is a sham to teach you good values and your family is actually worth billions. | My mother shifted her gaze from my face to the floor, back up to my face. She was wringing her hands in that way I knew so well. My father’s dark eyes bore into me from beneath heavy eyebrows. His calm demeanor was betrayed only by a barely visible tension in his jaw. As they awaited my response; the silence in the room was palpable. I expect they were bracing themselves, but for what? Shock, most likely. Perhaps anger. Perhaps elation. Perhaps a mixture of each one.
They would be wrong on all counts.
“Okay,” I said. A single word which I uttered calmly.
My father jerked, taken aback by my unanticipated response. My mother continued to stare at the floor, although I noticed her eyes widen slightly. My father cleared his throat, and began to speak again. “Son, you must understand… Your Mother and I only withheld this information from you because we believed it would teach you the importance-”
“Information you have already thoroughly conveyed to me,” I interrupted.
My father’s face reddened, as the muscles in his jaw tightened further still. Heavy silence hung in the air once more. I exhaled deeply, and closed my eyes.
“Mother. Father. Thank you for telling me all of this. I believe that your intentions were good, and I am grateful.” I began to stand up, before my mother spoke.
“Matthew, wait.” Her voice quavered, and the sheen of her eyes reflected light which streamed through the living room window. “Your Father and I were thinking that you could perhaps use some of this money for… A trip of sorts. Something that would make you happy. You can go anywhere you want. How about a tour around Europe? You’ve always wanted to see…” she trailed off, noticing the expression of pain on my face which I was no longer able to mask.
“Thank you, Mom,” I said quietly, before getting up and leaving the room. Walking down the corridor, I heard her begin to sob.
I lay on my bed and closed my eyes. *Today my parents told me we are billionaires, and it changes nothing at all*
It had been 54 days. You always reminded me of summer; because your hair was the colour of corn, and the sky was in your eyes. I felt the thorny branch, the one which twisted around my heart. When I thought of your smile, it constricted. When I heard the echo of your laugh in my head, it tore until the pain in my chest was almost intolerable. No amount of money could ever bring you back. And all the riches in the world could not change the simple fact: That perhaps I could have saved you.
***
*edit - ambiguity, by suggestion of a reader. Thanks :)* | "So all this time... I've been wearing Walmart brand shoes, eating bagged cereal, and *not* using an iPhone because you wanted to teach me how to appreciate, like, work, and stuff?" I asked.
"Son, it's easy to develop a sense of entitlement when you have access to so much." My dad said. "It takes a lot of work to remain humble."
"I get it, dad. Just promise me I don't have to breathe the same air as those dirty peons anymore." I begged.
"Excuse me?" My dad asked with an angry tone.
"Relax, dad, it was a joke. As long as I'm not a savage, I can handle being around them for a while." I laughed.
"That's not funny, son." My dad sulked.
"Neither is being made fun of in public school." I joked.
"This sense of humor of yours is disturbing." My dad said.
"Know what else is disturb--"
"Stop it, Danny!"
I was quiet for a minute, but then I started laughing.
"What is it?"
"You and mom acted poor for eighteen years just to instill some shoddy value system in me. You could have been going to the Bahamas five times a year!" I laughed harder. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
My dad exhaled sharply.
"Dad, I'm joking. Let's go get hookers." | 2017-12-28T10:52:19 | 2017-12-28T10:15:06 | 488 | 154 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | I tug at the wrist of my long sleeved shirt as I settle into my desk in the back of the room, my journal opened to a page of sketches. I don't make eye contact with anyone that passes by, knowing their eyes aren't going to meet mine, but will be staring at my wrist instead.
I've never felt more alone.
When the sigils started forming on all of my classmates, I knew mine had to fill in soon. The dark black outline on the inside of my wrist would one day reflect what blessing was given to me by the Rapture, when the universe was created. I imagined being able to do the most amazing things like see the future, levitate or be able to bring life to animals and plants around me.
That was six years ago.
My circle is still just that... a circle.
Mom says some people just get their power later in life, when the universe is ready to bestow it upon the recipient, but every so often I hear my father mutter something about having a defective daughter while talking to his friends.
"Hey Zero!" I hear the nasally, insufferable voice of Mandy, an Air Element Sigil. The blowing winds sign on her wrist has been ornamented by diamonds. She blows me a kiss and a harsh cold slaps across my face. I wince and reach up to the sting, feeling something drip from my cheek. I look up to see the smug grin on her face before she looks down at my arm. "Still nothing, Zero? I was hoping to slap some sense into your sigil. Or are you still defective?"
I look around, my face now growing more red with shame and embarrassment. The others are staring, some are sniggering with Mandy. I feel the cold creep up my fingers before I realize Mandy's concentration won't break until I get her to stop. My fingertips are white and I can't feel them anymore.
"Please stop..." I quietly plead. My heart hammers in my chest, my fingers are frozen to the desk. Icicles have started forming down the leg of the table.
"What was that, Zero? You'll need to speak up! Or is being useless your power?" she sneers as the cold continues to make its way up my body. My curly hair frosts over. My teeth start chattering. The laughter around me is deafening. A tear slips out of my eye and freezes to my cheek.
"Don't do this!" I manage to croak out. I take a deep breath, grit my teeth and finally screech out "STOP" but the looks on the faces around me have changed to shock. They look around the room in astonishment.
"Where did she go? What did you do, Mandy!? You killed her!" the other students start all talking at once, and Mandy looks as though she's going to pass out as well. Her eyes are glued to my desk as if she's looking through me.
"What are you all talking about. I'm right here." I say, but no one hears my voice. I repeat myself. Still nothing.
Then I look down at my desk. My hands are still on the surface, but they are no longer frozen to the desk. The frost no longer clings to my body, but is held suspended in air before drifting slowly down to the floor. I move my hand and it goes *through* the desk.
...*what?*
I stand up, and look down at my desk. I turn and face Joseph who looks bewildered. I put a hand on his shoulder and it goes through his body. I jerk back and pass completely through Miles. I look down at my hands and finally see a glow coming from them. I pull up the sleeve of my shirt and look at my sigil.
It's still a circle.
Have I just become...*nothing*? |
He has always been a very peaceful person which was often mistaken for being boring and uninteresting which lead to him getting left out. The only interaction he had with others in school was when his classmates would bully him with their outstanding powers. They were quite powerful and could possibly be used to kill others.
Gironimo had just transferred to this new school. Nero started to bully him because Gironimo seemed to be an easy target, seeing as his sigil only looked like a circle which indicated that he hadn’t formed an ability yet.
Nero possessed the ability to form deadly weapons from people’s iron, cutting up their insides and draining them of the ability to breathe properly because they couldn’t process the oxygen without iron in their blood. He knew, he could kill Gironimo but he never wanted to, seeing that he was sadistic but not a killer. Plus, he wanted to see what power Gironimo’s sigil could possibly have granted him, since it was just some circle.
Well, at least it looked like a circle if you didn’t pay attention. Everyone is born with a sigil but it has to develop and take shape over time. Gironimo’s sigil only modified ever so slightly to go from a circle to a zero. He even called his ability “Zero”, even though he himself didn’t know what it could do. The sigil’s abilities were always based on one’s personality, so it would not be surprising that a violent person like Nero had such a brutal ability while the selfless May who would do anything for others could heal others with the drawback of not being able to heal herself.
The day after Gironimo's transfer, Nero approached Gironimo. “Would you like to die?”, he said as if he just asked a normal question. “I mean, you can try”, he said confidently, even though he didn’t even know of Nero’s powers since he was always very careful with when he would use them. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Gironimo felt something cutting up the inside of his mouth and started to spew out razor blades along with alarming amounts of blood. He started to cry and shouted “Zero”. Immediately, the blood he coughed up went back into his mouth and the razor blades turned back into iron and re-entered his body. Meanwhile, Nero started to cough up razor blades and now he was the one crying and screaming. “You fucker”, Gironimo shouted. “Look what you’ve done. Look how badly I was bleeding. Why the fuuuuuucckkkk???”. He started kicking the still crying Nero and quickly left before the teachers could spot him. | 2020-02-26T08:49:43 | 2020-02-26T07:41:46 | 45 | 19 |
[WP] After North Korea declares that they will start a nuclear war if a single bullet is fired The Us military goes medieval | The president of the United States grasped a stark black phone in his hands. Surrounded by generals and military experts, he slowly tapped his hand on the desk, a rhythmic sound that broke the grave silence. He had not expected his presidency to require something like this.
No, nothing like this.
The weary voice on the other side of the phone spoke with a thick accent, trained by experience. The Pope let out a tired yawn before speaking "A call from you is unexpected, Mr. President. What is this about?"
"Your holiness. Thank you for speaking with me. I realize it's late where you are, but... I have a rather unorthodox request for you, considering the recent news." The president croaked out. His tapping on the desk increased with pace as nervousness built. He hadn't expected his presidency, or any presidency, to ask for such a thing.
"Well, you have my attention." The Pope croaked.
"The North Koreans swore that they would start a nuclear war if a bullet is fired." The tapping ceased. "... Which is why we need to not shoot a single bullet."
"If you're looking for some sor--"
"I need you to start a crusade against them. No bullets, no missiles, just... older weaponry" The president interrupted, his face twisting. Silence enveloped the other side of the line. Not even the Pope's breathing could be heard, which made the anticipation all the more maddening.
"A crusade." He paused. "Against North Korea. I wouldn't expect a... how the kids say it... prank call from you."
"It's not a prank." The president spoke again, confidence slowly building. "You have the power to muster the forces of so many, and with your holy confidence at their back, I have no doubt they would succeed." Silence, once more.
"The North Koreans, great apostates who shun the light of God and commit horrible acts, yet... a Crusade has not been ordered in many years." The pope sighed. "... Perhaps, Mr. President. Perhaps."
"Thank you, your Holiness." The president slowly put down the phone.
---
"And so, I call upon all men of good faith with the church, all those who love God and spurn the Great Deceiver, be you of any branch of the faith, to rally before the Holy Vatican on March the Twenty Fourth, before the eyes of God to embark upon the tenth Great Crusade against the Apostates of North Korea, against the shepherd of evil, Kim Jong Un, to bring the light of God to a hopeless nation." The pope mustered his strength into his voice. "Deus Vult!"
And all around the packed Vatican square, men, women, and children, cried with countless cheers, a thunder that would make God proud. Deus vult. God wills it. | The bomber carried no bomb, rather, it carried hundreds of infantry clad in sophisticated stealth tactical armor, carrying a blade comparable to legendary holy swords in brilliance.
The first bullet shot from AA battery was sliced cleanly in half, as with several dozen others that lucky enough to find their tiny target in the darkness. Metals filled the night as if a rain had reversed its direction, flying upon the sky instead of falling to the ground, only to be deflected by the invisible modern knights. Their blade sliced SAM with surgical accuracy, severing the explosive embedded within, letting the rest fell harmlessly to the ground below.
By the time the AA gun shot its seventy third bullet, the invisible knights sliced them all into useless pile of metal.
The year was 2023, mere five years from the declaration that locked down the conflict in East Asia into seemingly infinite deadlock, but the scariest monster is indeed one they never saw for themselves. The war settled without any bullets fired from the other side of conflict, and yet blood soaked the once prideful nation.
US unveiled their newest series of cutting edge weaponry, the Blind Knight suit, shortly after the battle that smoldered North Korea. Their entire infantry division has been converted into specialized division for the suit, capable of hiding from detection in almost every method known to man. They quickly conquered the entirety of East Asia before any of them recovered from the shock and awe. Russia unleashed their nuclear armament in retaliation, but the suit brushed even those, leaving the smoldering wasteland almost unscathed.
A new age of warfare has begun, one that doesn't fear even nuclear intervention. | 2017-03-19T08:23:20 | 2017-03-19T08:18:23 | 100 | 19 |
[WP] Demons are real and you work as an exorcist. Your secret, it is quite simple to get rid of them, just tell them "Leave" in Latin. You dress up the command in ritual in order to hide it and keep yourself in a job. (3rd person optional) | Nathan ticked off another complete tally of 5, bringing his total for the year to 100. To think, last year he was homeless, hungry and the only people that might have known him were the students that passed by his place in the woods on their way to the bus stop. How times change.
It all came to him in a dream last year.
*"Relinque,"* said a half-angel, half-demon figure in his dream. At the time, Nathan was terrified that death was finally taking him. That the landscape of fire and picturesque beaches would be his resting place. But he awoke in the cold Spring morning air and breathed in what would be his new life. He was given a purpose, he thought, he would find out what *"relinque"* meant and change his life to its cause.
Once he found out it meant "leave", a bit of luck struck him. While passing through the library a woman collapsed in front of him. She was having a seizure but to Nathan, there was something inside her reeking havoc in her mind.
Calmly, Nathan knelt down and whispered, *"relinque"* and the seizure halted. It was a miracle. At the time, no one thanked him, not even the woman. He still looked like a sewer rat that just came out of a drainpipe. So he found a place to wash up, clean up and bought a long black robe at the Christian Benefit store to begin his new career.
Exorcism.
It was a simple job really. Look like a priest, carry a Bible and speak some passages before speaking "leave" and boom, it was done. Nathan didn't even charge for his services, but people were grateful when their demons were thrust out, so they paid him well and instantly referred him to their friends. Not everyone believed in him, but those that did took him from homelessness to an apartment, with food, water, and laundry. More than Nathan had in decades.
Since today was the last of the year, Nathan decided it was time to spice up the ritual. He purchased some frankincense potpourri, large wax candles, a large oak cross that he would stick out as he spoke.
The patient, as he liked to call them, was a 10-year-old girl who had been talking in her sleep and sleepwalking. Her parents grew concerned when, one night, she walked around the house on her hands and feet with her hips extended up to the ceiling. She carried an apple in her mouth and seethed viciously when the parents tried to take it from her. They were beyond relieved when they were referred to Nathan and called him immediately. Here he was now, setting up candles and scents in their daughter's bedroom as she lay sedated in her bed.
"How long will this take?" asked the mother. She was a petite Irish woman, with curly brown hair. Her eyes were visibly tired as if she hadn't slept well in weeks.
"Oh, a few minutes," said Nathan. "It really doesn't take too long. They embellished it a bit in the movies, I think. Can't have a 20-minute movie."
The mother smiled and gave Nathan and agreeable nod. The father, though, still looked uncomfortable. He wore a plain dress shirt and khakis. His hair cut short and he was built like a soldier.
"Now I've seen horrible things overseas. Been shot at, seen people die, but this scares me the most," he said. "I mean, what if she's already gone?"
"She isn't," said Nathan. "Think of this as a temporary disruption. Like a speed bump. I'm here to erase that speed bump so she can keep on cruising like she did before."
The father shook his head and took a second to collect himself outside the room. Nathan did not wait for him to return before beginning.
"Our Father who art in Heaven..." began Nathan. As he spoke more the bed shook and the candles snuffed out. Still, Nathan pressed on.
"Filthy nonpreist," spoke the little girl, her eyes rolling back in her head. "Fooling these innocent people."
Still, Nathan continued.
"He's an imposter, mum. All he learned was one trick and that is—"
*"Relinque!*" commanded Nathan, throwing the cross onto the bedding.
The little girl fell back on her pillow and breathed softly. It was over.
"Well that was a first," said Nathan. "Usually they just spit at me and tell me I'm next."
The mother stared at Nathan, eyes wide and terrified. The father was the same as he had just walked back into the room. Nathan turned around and saw a great horned demon standing behind him. It's deadly claw rested above Nathan's head threatening to crush him.
"Enough with your shinani—" it began to speak, deep and hoarse.
And Nathan did what he only know how. He whispered, *"relinque"* and the great beast vanished. From where the demon stood a small note lay on the floor.
Shaking with fright at the first real sight of a demon, Nathan picked up the note. It read:
"You can tell us to leave, but we'll be back. We'll be back in numbers and this town will be ours."
-----
/r/ItsPronouncedGif | "Elijah...are the lemon-ocean scented candles really necessary?"
*Of course they fucking aren't,* Eli thought. He was a sailor at heart, thirty years in the U.S. Navy, and a true potty mouth. But if he even dared to speak like that in front of his customer, the jig would be up.
"It certainly is madam," he spoke in a mock calm as he grabbed the candle, that did smell very nice, and began to move in back in forth in front of his subject so that it appeared to get a big whiff of it.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING," the possessed soul screamed in Latin, "I WILL DROWN YOU IN YOUR LEMON OCEAN! I WILL FLAY YOUR SKIN SO EVERY AGONIZING SECOND IN THAT WHIMSICAL PLACE BURNS! WHEN YOU ARE CLOSE TO DEATH I WILL BRING YOU UP AND CRUCIFY YOU ON A CROSS MADE OF SALT SO THAT THE YELLOW WATERS RUN RED!"
"Shut the hell up," Eli muttered in Latin, "I have an appearance to keep up. Plus this candle does smell nice, no?"
The boy who the demon possessed thrashed against the chair he had been tied to, and mashed his teeth together in violent chomping motions as his head began to rotate in circles. Behind him, the boy's mother fainted.
"ROUND AND ROUND WE GO!" he began to chant in English, "MOTHER HAS FALLEN DOWN AND MY HEAD KEEPS SPINNIN 'ROUND!"
The father, who had been quietly watching from the doorway, fainted as well.
"Was that necessary you fuckwit?" Eli asked, "If they die and can't pay me, I'm coming for you."
"THE WEAK FOOLS WILL BE MY FIRST VICTIMS. EVER SINCE BIRTH I'VE BEEN STEWING IN THIS YOUNG BODY WAITING TO BE STRONG ENOUGH TO STRIKE AND NOW I AM READY!"
"You're eighty-five pounds!" Eli replied, "Where is this strength?"
The monster glanced down, as if seeing the body it possessed for the first time. Anger flashed in the eyes as it realized it was not a full grown man, but a small child.
"I FELT SO STRONG," it cried, "I COULD FEEL PENT UP ENERGY AND ANGER FLOWING THROUGH HIS VEINS! I THOUGHT IT WAS TIME!"
"Ah," Eli smiled as if he understood, "Yeah, I remember puberty. Fun times."
"THESE FEELINGS ARE STRANGE!" The demon yelled in Latin as the parents began to awake, "I DON'T UNDERSTAND THEM."
"You know what," Eli's smile fell from his face like a rock as he replied in Latin, "I've already had this talk with *my* son, I'm not having it with you."
"HELP ME!"
Eli sighed, and glanced back at the parents who were staring at him hopefully. He was getting paid by the hour, but he would be no better than the demon itself if he left it trapped inside such a tumultuous place.
"Leave," Eli muttered in Latin. With a blast of white, holy light, a beacon shot up into the sky. A black, screaming soul shot from the boy's mouth and flew through the beacon up towards heaven. Once there he likely would be stricken down, that is the soul would be destroyed for eternity. Maybe there was a lesson or some shit about the human spirit being stronger than demons, after all the demon chose utter destruction over living through pubescence, but Eli was too tired and sad about his lost payday to care.
"W-where am I?" the boy asked as he awoke, free from the demon for the first time in his life.
"You're home," Eli said as he packed up his exorcism kit, "And safe at last."
"I'm...I'm confused. I don't understand."
"Get used to it, kid," Eli smiled, "Get used to it."
________________________________________________________________
Did you like this story? Check out my other stuff over at r/Niedski! I post all of my stories there! | 2017-03-29T05:22:36 | 2017-03-29T05:03:37 | 119 | 21 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | WHAT UP MUTHERFUCKERS? Wow. End of the first year of Super Hero School. All classes done and dusted. Grades handed out. Who'd have thought we'd make it. As a non-powered ordinary, thrown into a high school filled with superpowers, I certainly didn't. We'll get back to that.
Except ... we're not finished. Not by a long shot. See, there's one course you still need a grade on. No you didn't sign up for it, its automatic and mandatory. It's called Consequences 101, aka The Object Lesson aka ... well I'll get to that as well. Oh. Some of you have probably heard of The Object Lesson. It's dropped into the 5 year curriculum at random, and the format of it is changed every year. I'm very proud to have been a part of it.
See, while having super powers is not illegal, vigilantism is. So this school and others like it, were set up to identify, recruit and train the next generation of Super Heros. But the dark secret is that 90% of you really shouldn't get a licence to hero.
That's where I come in. Oh em gee, I wonder what would happen if a Muggle through some obscure coincidence, found themselves surrounded by egotists and fame seekers with the ability to punch through walls? That's why the secret _secret_ name of the course is called _Bait_.
So let's not beat around the bush. I'm a victim of Super Homicide. I watched Freelander put a power pole through both my innocent bystander parents' heads when I was 4. The _bastard_ smirked at me. I volunteered for this knowing I was likely to die. And if you're seeing this video, I'm dead because one of you twits _TOOK THE BAIT_.
Let's break it down for you. You're life is _FUCKED_. I was implanted with so many sensing and recording devices, I'm surprised I didn't shit batteries. You're going to step outside this building and if you're very polite and non-threatening, some very scary and competent people are going to make sure you never see the light of day ever again.
But the ball keeps on rolling. Anyone who encouraged or helped you? They're fucked too. Aiding and Abetting motherfuckers. Enjoy Super Prison bitches.
And finally. Those who want to call yourselves Heros but watched me being bullied all year without doing squat? That was recorded and graded by a team of very professional psychologists.
Most of you have just failed Superhero school ... permanently. If you beg and plead, you _might_ be able to get into Super Vocational School next door. I wish you all the luck in the world, but there's no way you'll ever be a Super Hero if you can't be bothered to help the person right in front of you. | As i walk, I see everyone trembling in my fear.
I still remember when I was weak. When i was a little child made of flesh. Since that single time I was bullied, for my weak mind and body, my mind began to wonder, if I could be just like them, alle to do something since birth. But when I realized that it was not possible, i set my mind to make it possible. And one day I managed to find the solution: i had to abandon the flesh that failed me. So, 20 days later, i managed to replace my whole body with tungsten. As i walked through the halls with my new body for the first time I had seen familiar faces, those bastards. And then they started to talk. "Well looks like the powerless little sh-"
One.
Single.
Punch.
He lost 5 teeth, broke both his legs, shattered his neck and i broke 5 of his ribs.
A total success.
Later i had gone to the hospital where he was. I could have easily killed him with the punch from before. But i didnt. A little shit like him does not deserve the sweet release of death.
Now, 5 years later, i look him right in the eye. He trained, but so did I. He became a person who would choose evil over good for profit.
And so I punched the air. The air cracked by my strength, and I split the skies. He falls lifeless to the floor. And i stare at what was, what could have been and what isn't.
To become a hero you do need great power. You need great ambition. | 2022-11-02T13:23:45 | 2022-11-02T13:05:43 | 48 | 22 |
[WP] you are kidnapped by a cult to be used as sacrifice. As you are are lying tied underneath the altar you hear one of the cultists say “Ho dark lord we present to you this person as an offering”. With nothing left to lose you yell “Ho dark lord I present to you this cultists as an offerings!” | The words echoed in the still air, a hushed gasp and some murmuring came behind it.
"Did....did he just..."
"-turn our own thing against-"
"The audacity!"
I felt sweat pop out all over as the cultist standing over me grumbled. "Well, he's not one of us so it's not like the Dark Lord will hear his words over ours," a tinge of uncertainty in his voice, "so I don't think we need to worry here. Lets just start this over again and we'll....we'll....we..."
A faint odor of sulfur and a wave of heat had seemed to come with whatever caused the cult leader to stutter. Seeing as I was blindfolded, hog-tied, and prepared to get mirked by some random robe wearing cannibals or something, I just went with it. Wasn't the strangest thing to happen to me today. Not by a long shot.
Whatever had happened, something new was there. And when it spoke I felt the words in some primal part of my being and it dropped all sorts of fun fear and fight or flight chemicals into my already saturated bloodstream.
"Aight, I'll bite. Been doing this for close to 4000 years now and I've got to say, this situation has surprisingly never come up before. You, with the knife, make your case and make it good."
The cult leader started to ramble and blubber. Apparently whatever this new thing looked like was a hell of a lot more terrifying than what it sounded like.
A deep sigh came out from the new voice and it addressed me directly, which made me even more terrified.
"You, in the blindfold, make your case at least somewhat more interesting than the man that is crying and soiling himself right now."
I froze for a second, words stuck on the tip of my tongue before I blurted out "Look man I'm just a pizza delivery guy, all I wanted to do the other night after my shift was go home, knock a beer back, rub one out, and go to bed."
Silence. I took it as a go on.
"These assholes ordered like, 300 dollars worth of pizza, it took us an hour to make all of it, then they kidnapped me when I went to deliver it. I've been cooped up for a week now, I think, I'm pretty sure my job let me go, and they've been beating off talking about how they will summon some sort of demon or something and the reckoning will be happening because of it."
I stopped and gasped for breath as a low snort of annoyed laughter came from afar.
"The tenacity of one single pizza delivery boy against a gathering of the closest minions of Tyizucia and not one of you thought to gag the offering? Poor sods, the lot of you" A snap of fingers was followed by the screeches of pain from around me, with an overwhelming odor of cooking pork and the heat of a thousand suns coming shortly after that.
A shrill buzzing noise picked up and slowly rose in pitch and timber until it was everywhere. My hand shot out in the pre-dawn gloom and shut off my alarm. I rolled out of bed, sticky with sweat from the craziest nightmare I've ever had.
Stumbling into the bathroom and looking at my phone, the date was....the day I got kidnapped by the cult? And I had a text from someone marked UNKNOWN.
The text was short and to the point, sending chills down my spine.
"Cattle,
You're back to the day this started. Those peons of ours weren't up to snuff and have been taken care of. I'd apologize for the kidnapping if I cared to, but don't count on that. However, quick intelligence of your calibur is something that we could use and exploit.
We'll be in touch,
-T" | The cultist standing above you bearing a dagger ready to plunge deep into your chest looked upon you with amusement. "Did you really think that would work?"
Cacophonous laughter suddenly echoed throughout the night.
An eerie voice sent shivers down your spine "whoa there little one, over ten millennia, throughout dimensions uncounted. Never has one been so brash! I think I am going to like you!" For whatever reason you now felt secure, like someone was holding you protectively in their arms.
The ominous chanting of the cultists rapidly changed to screams the like you are certain humanity had never heard. Despite all of the carnage hurtling about, nine of it seemed to touch you. When you finally were brought out of your stupor, all of the blood and sinew that should have been strewn around the forest floor somehow collected into a pile. That was certainly abnormal you noted. Almost instantly after you had that thought the laughter burst through the silent woods.
"Ahhh, little one. You are about to witness something spectacular." The voice once again sent chills down your spine, but actually started to sound a bit, calmer?
You begin to look worriedly at the pile of former cultists as it began to pulse. Faster and faster it beat, almost resembling what the hearts powering the demented cultists. As it pulsed, it seemingly began to diminish in size.
"Behold mortal. A vision of true power!"
You had to look away, as the grisly mound suddenly flashed an incredibly bright light before vanishing. In its place was a rather large white cat with seven black dots forming a circle on its forehead.
You felt the same eerie voice in your head "I will walk this plane with you mortal. I wish to... observe the most interesting being the cosmos has offered in great detail."
You began to stammer "um, what do I call you?"
"Hmm, names. I like the name..." the cat looked skyward as if in thought, and saw the comet you had come out to view, unhindered by city lights before suffering the unluckiest day of your life by stumbling upon a group of cultists. "Haley, I like the name Haley." The cat looked at you with a smile.
"Well Haley, I am going to need to explain to my landlord that I now have a cat, and he might not budge on his no pet policy."
"Where exactly are you suggesting that you stay then human?"
You sigh. It was looking like it was going to be a long night, | 2020-05-05T14:41:23 | 2020-05-05T14:32:25 | 32 | 15 |
[WP] We may not be the strongest, but our immune systems are legendary among alien races. There is a saying: "if it makes a human sick it will kill you." | *If it makes a human sick, it will kill you*
Ashley glanced over the survival pamphlet for the umpteenth time. Pulled off the corpse of one of the invaders that had come from the cosmos above, it was the single piece of information that had turned the tide of the war against the Lar’khii.
Initially it seemed as though all would be lost in a matter of months. Lar’khiish technology was at least a millennium ahead of the best that earth’s governments could throw at them. The aliens were bringing a nuke to a snowball fight, capturing humans alive and beaming them up, screaming, to ships where it was only learned later what kind of horrors awaited them. The experiments, the procedures, no boundary was left uncrossed to try to make a cure-all medicine that humans simply acknowledged as their immune system.
When that fateful pamphlet was found on the body of a slain Lar’khiian and translated, and the purpose of their invasion as well as the danger that humans posed to them.... Ashley couldn’t help but chuckle as she remembered how comical it was to watch. The most modern of armies relieved their soldiers of their useless firearms and cumbersome gear in favor of creating hyper-mobile pathogen vehicles. Instead of combat fatigues and weaponry, soldiers and civilians alike were issued athletic wear, running shoes, and chili peppers. A single sneeze, cough, tear, drop of sweat or mucus, or any other bodily secretion would have a Lar’khiian screaming with both its facial and torso mouths as they scrabbled at the infected area with their limb horns.
It was too late though. They were already dead. Ashley had seen it too many times to count, and just because she hated the alien species for terrorizing her home planet didn’t make reliving the grisly scene in her nightmares any easier.
It was always the same. Fifteen seconds after infectious contact, the area would transform from its usual pale yellow to a livid fuchsia.
Thirty seconds after exposure boils would appear on their hide, bursting forth with a runny black liquid that evaporated before it hit the earth. All four sets of teeth had crumbled to dust by this point and the tentacles sprouting from the top of their heads would soon follow.
Two minutes after exposure all six of their eyes would have burst, with both of their mouths simultaneously starting to leak the same black liquid that now seeped through all pores on their hide.
Only the largest of Lar’khiians had ever survived five minutes after exposure, which gave the human that had infected them plenty of time to run before their twenty foot tall corpse toppled over on them. Autopsies on these corpses to better understand their biology was impossible, as all that remained was a hollow, empty husk of their outer hide.
Ashley replaced her standard issue copy of the pamphlet back on her table and re-tied the laces on her running shoes. She decided to grab a bottle of whiskey on her way back from the front. She couldn’t risk being alone with the day’s memories tonight. | Glik rested and lay his swollen dome on the blankets Glak had folded and placed under him.
“Be at ease, beloved. I am here.” The words almost choked him to utter.
“I did not think, I never imagined...” Glik softly spoke as his eye fixed itself on the dimming violet sky overhead.
“Do not trouble yourself with explanations. It is enough that we are together.”
That Glak’s voice trailed off betrayed his true feelings.
“When I arrived, when I landed, they panicked and ran in fear...” Glik insisted.
“Glik, stay your voice.” Glak interrupted to no avail.
“...they were frightened, Glak. So I showed myself. I stood bare before them in peace to embrace them.”
Glik’s eye became cloudy and moisture appeared at its edge.
“I know.” Glak stated “ I know why you did it.”
“And some of them did, Glak, most of them fled but some of them kept their fears and embraced me. I did not think. I am afraid, Glak.” He welled with regret.
“I know.” Glak croaked as the swelling moisture began to run freely.
“I fear I’ve made a fatal error. And you came for me. And now my error is yours.” Glik wept.
Glak could only clasp feelers with Glik and accept the pouring liquids. The usual bond was still there but Glak could feel it’s fading.
Glik raised himself to meet Glak’s dome.
“Accept my bond, beloved.” His voice could hardly plead as he gently touched his dome to Glak’s.
“Accept...my bond.” Glak whispered in the familiar reply.
And there, embraced under the coming moons, sat Glik and Glak. Their domes resting against each other in eternal stillness. | 2021-02-03T19:32:17 | 2021-02-03T16:59:37 | 102 | 38 |
[WP] You are a superhero whose powers are based on the music you are listening to. Rock can make you stronger, classical makes you smarter, etc. One day, you're fighting your toughest villain yet, and you are forced to use your "forbidden" playlist. | Sweat dripped down my nose, mingling with the blood that poured from my mouth. This wasn't going as well as it could. At least my headphones were still in one piece.
The man that stood before me cackled. I had never quite understood what it meant for one to 'cackle'. I figured it had just mean to laugh in an evil matter, but it was so much more in the flesh. It hurt to hear, almost as hard as the fists and feet that had pummeled me.
"Is this all you can do, WalkMan?" He jeered. "Is this the man that defends his city? Pathetic." He shot a glare at the nearest news crew, making sure to look directly at the camera. "This is what you get for trusting a 'hero'. This is what anyone that defies me will get. Bow before me, or perish beneath me!"
He turned back to me, raising both of his fists above his head, preparing to strike with all of his power. I knew what I had to do.
"Hey Siri" I said, coughing and spitting out another tooth. The bluetooth headphones chirped in response, acknowledging that it had heard my prompt.
"Play Forbidden Loop Omega"
The chirp sounded again in acknowledgement. I stood on my one good leg, bracing a hand on the wall to support the broken leg. The man cackled again.
"So you choose to die on your feet. How noble."
As he brought his glowing fists down towards my head, the music swelled in my ears. I brought up one hand and caught the blow with ease. With one quick motion, I broke both of his wrists.
He boggled at me. "No, NO, NONONONO!" He wailed. "How?"
I met his terrified gaze with a blank expression. I couldn't show any emotion. Not with this terrible noise assaulting my ears.
With another twist, I ripped his arms from their sockets. I heard the gasps from the camera crews as they captured every gruesome detail in stunning 4K definition, if their commercials could be believed.
"Dr Doomsday, you are hereby under arrest." I spoke in an even tone, straining to keep my emotions under control. "Officers, take him away." I turned and strode away, before a reporter or police officer could ask me any potentially compromising questions.
As I strode to the parking garage where my personal car was parked, I fumbled with my phone, desperate to stop the song that was consuming me. Bringing me to a dark place.
"We can do it, if we try" I mumbled along, as my fingers typed my password. The Cocomelon song was almost a greater pain in my ears than sung through my broken jaw and missing teeth.
r/SlightlyColdStories if you want. Or don't. It's all up to you. | At first I thought we were evenly matched, but I was slowly starting to realize I'd been too optimistic. My fists blocked by equal force when I rocked out, my strategies countered or nullified no matter the sonata, piece by piece I shuffled through futile playlists.
I began to suspect that he was some form of Copycat or Shapeshifter - his speed accelerated when mine did but swapped to superior strength as soon as mine did as well. If that was all that Echo had at his disposal I could at least stall until reinforcements showed up, but he was clearly starting to win. However he was copying my abilities, Echo seemed to be using them more effectively than I was.
So I decided to take a risk. I went for his mask, although it cost me a blow that made my ribs ache, and when it came off it all became clear. I leaped backwards and turned my music off, and his bat-like ears twitched in reaction. He paused, looking confused, then pulled the mask back over his head.
"I see what you're doing now," I said, breaking the silence for the first time. "Your Copycat powers are based on sound." I caught a glimpse of a smile before the mask was fully back in place.
I whistled, impressed.
"Your hearing must be incredible. I'm wearing headphones but you're actually getting more from my music than I am," I continued, quickly swapping to another playlist.
Echo perked up as the music resumed, then charged again. I quickly unplugged my headphones, and he was sent reeling to the ground.
"I call this one *Worst of the 60's*, but I hope for your sake the cops get here before we make it to 2010." | 2022-05-17T09:23:55 | 2022-05-17T09:05:42 | 1,687 | 151 |
[WP] A grim discovery is made on humanity's first interstellar mission. Evidence shows that every other space fairing civilization purposely destroyed itself with no telling as to why. | We were curious, at first.
It was all broadcast back home on Earth, via quantum-entanglement comms. The wonder and awe of the first humans to walk on a planet beneath an alien star, feet planted firmly at the bottom of a gravity well that was not Earth's. The thrill as they crested a hill and saw the lines of a city laid out beneath the nearly black alien jungle... and the growing dismay as they realized it was in ruins.
Curiosity has always been a powerful drive.
We spent years combing that alien city beneath the dim red light of the star known as *Kepler-186* in Human terms. The planet, which came to be called Croatoa, was a gold mine of observations, and a multi-national team of scientists did the foundational work that shaped the disciplines of xenoanthropology and xenobiology on the broad avenues and in the crumbling halls of the great city.
None of it answered the true question. Where had they gone?
We knew, in time, what the Croatoans were like. From their statues we saw that they walked upright and manipulated objects much as we do, albeit with an additional pair of arms. From their dead, buried with ceremony among representations of the things they valued, we learned of their culture, less diverse than our own but no less strong for it.
From their writings, translated after a decades-long study hit a breakthrough on finding a classroom untouched by the ravages of time, we learned of their science, and engineers struggling with the complexities of alien machinery found breakthroughs as the manuals for devices we had no name for became available.
Their curiosity was, it seems, as strong as ours.
One of the last great projects was restarting the vast reactor at the heart of the city. It was a triumph of human engineering skill, taking a device we did not comprehend the basic physics of when we arrived, but years of study and work paid off. The city began to come to life once more, long-disused lights casting their red glow along the now-cleared boulevards.
And in the central square, a great projection, one of the Croatoans wrought of light and two stories tall, left to stand memorial for their vanished race.
In the end, so the scholars say, it was curiosity that undid them. The Croatoans were like us, in many ways. Creative, inquisitive, and close knit. Bred from a planet of dim red light and quiet weather, which nurtured a young race whose intelligence rapidly outpaced the few predators.
They looked to the stars, much as we did, and sought for others like them. The great reactor was developed as a prototype power source for a radio telescope the likes of which humanity could barely conceive. One that covered an entire hemisphere of one of the nearby but uninhabitable planets.
They built it, the Croatoans, and sat back to listen for others calling out in the void. For centuries they listened, and to their shock they heard them. Voices in the dark, faint, and distant. Voices which, after long effort, were translated... and found to be the death rattle of ages-dead civilizations, still echoing across the vast gulf of space.
They took this to mean that they were alone in a dying universe. Eventually their curiosity's fruits drove out their will to explore, to expand, to reach out. They died slowly. Populations dwindled, and the last fell to old age while Humanity was still fighting over a desert with sword and bow.
That, then, is the difference in our natures. Humanity will not surrender. Intelligent life has come about twice, this we know. The Croatoans suggest that twice is far from coincidence.
Who's to say they aren't still out there if we never go and look? | There was nothing but the whoosh of the spacecraft onto the blue, dusty ground.
A barren, empty Trifen was the only thing Kit could see.
As dust swirled in the thin air with each step his spacesuit took, Kit's gut told him to enter a cave tucked away in a mountain.
*It's always been like this,* he thought, sitting down on an elevated bunch of blue rock. *Every planet I touch, nothing is there.*
*Nothing but a... pile of carcasses...*
Kit came closer towards the alien corpse. His gloves traced a symbol down the alien's throat, trying to remember something that had come up before.
He took out his datapad and snapped an image, before the datapad spewed out heaves of information regarding the same symbol.
*Must* *be that crest again. Gotta send it to Mission Control.*
Kit pressed a button on his sleeve. "Trifen to Mission Control. Kit Farlax. Found nothing but carcasses again. What is going on?"
"*Mission Control to Kit Farlax on Trifen. That's why you're out there, investigating. No one truly knows what happening in our galaxy. Every other civilization that's ventured out into space has vanished. We think that it might have been self-inflicted. What have you found there, Private?"*
"The same symbol on the same area of the same alien's body. But this time, I'm the one seeing it, not cameras or what not. Want me to send you an image?"
"*By all means, Private. Over.*"
"Over and out."
After sharing the images with Mission Control, Kit decided it was time to venture deeper into the cave. He took one more glace at the opening -
Only to have it sealed off suddenly, leaving him in total darkness.
"Oh, hell," he muttered. "I come in peace, exploring the galaxy, aiding the human race, finding knowledge and what not-"
Slimy and bony fingers with sharp nails encircled Kit's throat, crushing the spacesuit from the outside. "Soon, you will find that knowledge is the least of your worries."
The crest was emblazed onto Kit's throat, breathing in the toxic gas of Trifen.
"Who are you, even? What do you want from me?" he spat out in terror and asphyxiation.
"Your life."
"You'll never have it," he took out a knife from his pocket. "I am the only one who decides whether I die or not."
...
*"Mission Control to Trifen. Mission Control to Trifen...? Mission Control to Kit Farlax on Trifen, do you copy? Mission Control..."* | 2019-06-11T23:06:59 | 2019-06-11T22:09:12 | 71 | 15 |
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done? | She reached into her bag and pulled out her white pad things, not the sort of white pad thingy that had wings but the other one that was small cylinder and had string attached to it for some probable reason. She was in the women's toilet of a dingy local bar and like all women's toilets was outstanding in its size and beauty...probably. The fountain as the centerpiece was a shimmering monolithic structure and the harp player in the corner had settled into her stride and played delicately. She hated this time of month and the certain set of days which was greater than one but not more than seven for which she was on her period. She had started getting stomach cramps earlier on in the day which were probably similar to getting kicked in the balls but also different in every possible way. She inserted the period equipment in the correct manner, be it, string first or cylinder first and then urinated or didn't urinate depending on whether it would be bad to get the stringed equipment wet maybe. She lifted up the skimpy lingerie she had on, similar to the kind that all women wear for any occasion ever, pulled up her skirt or zipped it up depending on whether skirts have zips, which they probably do somewhere unless they are elastic but that's highly doubtful and strode out of the bathroom wearing the stilletto heels that women wear at all times that never cause them pain at all.
She marched past a round table meeting of women currently discussing david and his cute butt which is a thing women talk about in the toilets. She walked passed the harp player who had taken some time off to file her nails. She stopped at the mirror and stared herself down. She looked at her naturally flawless skin with slight increased in reddening at the cheeks which is completely normal and a thing that all women have naturally. She decided she needed to put more of the eye makeup on. Not the kind that was to make your eyelashes longer but the kind that makes your eyelids darker because that's sexy for some reason. She decided that now she sorted our her eye makeup she needed to sort out her mouth make up and put on her bright red lipstick, not the cheap kind that you can buy everywhere but the inexplicably expensive kind that women get pissed off at you for wasting on drawing penis's on Pete's body while he's wasted. She looked herself in the eye and said "you can do this" and walked out of the bathroom completely intending to have private relations with the man who previously said that she had a nice pair and then looked at the ground when she turned her gaze towards him. | Storm chasing is a fascinating hobby. Storms are known to move quickly, so the chasers need to, well, chase the storms away from populated areas before they can cause damage. Often chasers will corner the storm into a field, lake, or other underpopulated area. If necessary, they will chase storms out into the ocean, but that's expensive, since it requires special boats and helicopters instead of the standard SCC (storm chaser car).
SCCs are typically 4 wheel drive, powerful trucks with various equipment mounted in the back. Lightning rods, laser pointers to guide the storm (much like a cat), and monitoring equipment. Because they aren't that different from their regular counterparts, SCCs are $5-20K more expensive than their standard counterparts. Often they will have a -S added to the end, e.g. Ford F-150-S
Oftentimes, meteorologists will work directly with storm chasers. We can already accurately predict where a storm will go, so the probability is merely how likely storm chasers are to succeed in chasing away the storm. There have been controversies of storm chasers being paid by weather stations to slack off, and give that station the most accurate results. New laws are being put in place to prevent this, and include heavy regulation, as most storm chasers are government employees.
Edit: stork chasers -> storm chasers | 2016-02-01T22:32:48 | 2016-02-01T21:44:49 | 507 | 80 |
[WP] Over night, 90% of the world's population has dropped dead. In the following weeks, the survivors, who come from diverse countries, ethnicities, religious beliefs and lifestyles realize that they all share a single, peculiar trait... | Saying that religious belief is what brought humanity to a near end, a near end where The Falling occured wouldn't exactly be correct to say. It took until 2085, fifteen years after the instantaneous, near apocolypse that left Earth's population at just over seven billion to find the only possible explanation as to why.
The Falling had occured in an instant in which 90% of humanity simply fell and died. This would have been repairable, except the survivor's memories had been wiped, where only just enough memory remained to recognize the glossy stares of their family as they lay dead on the ground, but not enough to find their own homes. The Falling lead to many corpses littering the streets, many more than you may assume: During the fifty year reign of peace following the down fall of America that caused all the nations to finally unite, populations across the globe were able to grow exponentially. A new path of science (or previously less investigated) had provided the technologly to not just feed the entire population with ease, but to house a much larger one on Earth than previously thought possible. The survivors of The Falling had to reassemble their history all over again to discover this for themselves though.
It took many years to rediscover old technologies whose secrets died with their discoverers and practitioners of the old days. Even more to begin research as to why such a tragedy occured. Their final conclusion should have been much easier to arrive to, something so obvious it seemed it should have taken days for a species so connected. But this was now an alienated, devasted group of people left on the planet. Something not physically evident caused even more skepticism and denial.
There came a point where mankind finally had to concede to the proposterous idea: The 10% of the remaining population shared many different religious beliefs prior to The Falling. But only those that truly did not believe in their respective God remained alive. Many people that claimed they were religious and were dedicated to their practices lived through the falling; having never truly believed no matter how repressed the blasphemous thought was. On the other end, many outspoken and self proclaimed athiests hadn't survived. It could only be presumed that the latter was actually the case though as there was no proof.
When this "Finding" had become common knowledge among humanity, the only logical conclusion amidst this new idea was that there was in fact a God. Perhaps he was unhappy with the way people went about worshipping Him. This would be corrected. The fear of God was now more powerful and evident than it had ever been among men. This caused a near instant perspective change among Earth and people once again began worship, using no idols this time or history to a certain God. They simply worshipped Him through their own individual methods. The vast majority did at least, a certain few that were the most stubborn and unfaithful still remained deniers.
Over night, 90% of the world's population has dropped dead. In the following weeks, the survivors, who come from diverse countries, ethnicities, religious beliefs and lifestyles realize that they all share a single, peculiar trait...
| He shoved me to the floor, gun to my head, I didn't mind I never stood a chance; He was a 6 foot 8 beast the sort of person who spent more time at the gym than with his family he didn't even need the gun he could squash my head in one hand. Me on the other hand a scrawny joke of a human even if the fight did manage to go on my asthma or low blood sugar would have ended it sooner or later. Why he spent his time in the gym I spent it at my desk. It seemed stupid now I wasted my life with lol and hearthstone. Pathetic.
My life changed 12 days ago l, I woke up one morning everyone was gone, i thought I was still dreaming it just didn't seem real but I've watched enough post apocalyptic movies and TVs shows to know I had to start moving. When does anyone in them shows stay in one place.
This hulk standing above me was the first person I've seen. What are the chance the first person I meet and we have nothing in common. I know I'm seconds from death so I start to think of something cliche my family maybe my mother who gave up everything for me she didn't care that I was the adoptive child of a relationship doomed to fail she loved me more that anything and I wasted my life even though I acted like I hated her, I blamed her I wouldn't even call her mum always referring to her by her first name.
Hulk man cocked his gun
"Any last words"
I looked up at him
"I'm sorry Martha, no mum"
Hulk man was taken back by this
"Your mothers called Martha what a coincidence so's mine"
He shot me in the head. Why would the fact that our mothers have the same name stop him from killing me.
| 2016-10-22T02:36:52 | 2016-10-22T01:53:00 | 38 | 19 |
[WP]using his last wish to free the genie he was led to a well hidden cave. Upon removing a boulder blocking the entrance the genie said “thank you for using your last wish, here are some more, just promise me you’ll do the same for them”. Left Inside the cave we’re thousands of glistening lamps. | How long has it been? He thought as he picked up another oddly shaped lamp. Days? Weeks? Years? He no longer needed food or water, that was taken care of that some 300 or so wishes ago. He no longer aged and was the picture of health and physical strength. These wishes came first, every time he rubbed a lamp he took one wish for himself, one wish to help another and the final wish to free the genie.
Each lamp was different, as different as each genie. Some were tall, some were short, some fat and some skinny. They were all the colors of the world and some had colors that he couldn’t even comprehend, not at first, not before he wished for understanding. Obviously a genie could look how he pleased and it was incredible to see how each one was different and had different personalities.
They were much like people, just unimaginably powerful people. He met each one and talked with each one at length before setting them free. He learned about the creation of the world and the origin of the genies. Without a doubt, he was the most knowledgeable person on the planet but, he still felt something was missing. Each new wish he tried gave him something, but it never filled the hole in his heart.
He reached down and picked up another lamp. The handle was a ring that went all the way around the lamp itself. The body sat in the middle and the spout jutted out slightly on one side, through the handle. It was such an odd shaped lamp, but they all were, in a way. He reached to rub it before he realized that the cave was empty. This was it, the last lamp. One more chance to find what he was looking for.
He rubbed it gently and like a light breeze a genie appeared before him. He was average height and attractive by all male standards of beauty, at least from what he remembered. He had kind eyes and a warm smile.
“Hello my friend, I’ve been waiting for you” the genie said.
“You know who I am?” He asked
“Of course, we can all communicate with each other. I’ve been tracking your progress and it’s my job to help set you free just as you will do for me.” The genie replied.
He perked up at this, could the genie know what I’m missing? “How?” He asked tentatively.
“Before you found the first of us, what did you dream?”
“I wanted to be a writer.”
“Why didn’t you ask one of us to make you a famous author? We could easily ensure that everything you write is treated as gold.” The genie questioned.
He thought about this for a long moment before replying, “ I want to accomplish my dream on my own and without cheating, for lack of a better word.”
The genie smiled, “then why have you not yet accomplished your dream?
“I’m not good enough.”
“Then what you lack, I cannot give with a wish. For though I can influence the world, I cannot make you believe in yourself.” The genie said in a solemn tone.
“Then I am lost” he whispered.
“No, not yet.” The genie laid a hand on his shoulder. “Write me a story.”
A pen and paper appeared on a desk in front of the genie and when he sat down he found that everything on the desk was perfect. It was made for him.
“What if I can’t do it” he asked.
“You’ll never know until you try” the genie said.
He wrote, he wrote the story about how he found the lamp and wrote about all the genies he had met. He poured out his heart onto the pages and when he was done, he had an entire history recorded. A story that was about life and freedom.
The genie smiled and patted him on the back. “That my friend is a wonderful story and you are an amazing writer. Remember, genies can’t tell lies.” He said with a wink.
That was it, that was all it took. The hole in his heart was gone and replaced with hope. He could do it, he could accomplish his goal, all he needed was a little reassurance from a friend.
“Thank you genie”
“You still have all three wishes” the genie stepped back and cracked his knuckles. “Let me have them”
He smiled, for he already knew what to wish for.
“Genie, I wish there was a place where wonderful writers could gather and share stories with each other.” “I wish that the story I write there about you will be well received and finally, I wish you were free.”
The genie laughed a deep rolling laugh that echoed off the cavern walls. “Done, done and thank the gods....done”
The genie snapped his fingers twice then hugged him before winking away to explore the world.
He stepped out of the cavern into a world not like what he remembered. A world full of technology and wondrous creations. He bought himself a device to talk to others over long distances and downloaded something called an app. The app was named Reddit and inside he found [writingprompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/). He laughed to himself, so this is how his wishes turned out.
“I wonder what stories will be told here” he thought as he walked down the street and into a world he was eager to explore. | He gaped in the center of the glittering cave, mind racing with possibilities—his thoughts unexpectedly interrupted by a disbelieving laugh from his soon-to-be bride. He glanced at her disdainfully; she was rapidly becoming the only mar on his otherwise perfect tapestry of adventure. She displayed no gratefulness for her rescue, no eagerness to marry the man who had so gallantly freed her from the shackles whose marks her wrists and ankles still bore. Her attitude was a...disappointment. Perhaps he ought to use his first wish to change that. But before he could reach for a lamp, she spoke.
“So you’re how he defeated my captors?” she asked the genie, dark eyes glittering fiercely. “Not by quick wit and courage, but through your enslavement?”
“As is tradition, Princess,” the genie answered, dipping his head slightly. “He had three wishes to do with what he willed. He was kind enough to free me with the third, and for this I am forever grateful.”
“You are grateful to him for giving you that which was already yours by right: freedom? And only AFTER he used you to service his own desires! What kind of gift is that but mere blackmail wrapped in pretty trappings?” she snapped.
“He had no need to free me,” the genie murmured, but his tone was oh-so-slightly uncertain.
“No need except that found in the spirit of basic decency! He had no right to use your enslavement to better himself! And now he will do it a thousand times over?? How long will these poor souls wait, trapped in their lamps, waiting while he bides his time and uses their gifts for his profit, and their only reward that which they already deserve? What justice is there in that??”
“Without those wishes you’d still be trapped in that dungeon!” her fiancé snarled. “Is that what you want, to go back to being a slave? You’d still be there if it wasn’t for me!”
“If it wasn’t for HIM,” she corrected, turning to bow gracefully to the genie. “You and I, we know the worth of freedom. I will not stand by and allow your brethren to remain enslaved a moment more.”
Suddenly she flew over to the wall of lamps, even as her would-be fiancé cursed and grabbed at her. She slipped from his grasp as water would, scooping up a small brass lamp triumphantly. He bolted toward her as she ran her fingers over the dented, polished metal, but it was too late. Smoke swirled around her, glistening with mica and secrets. Before this new genie could speak a single word, the princess yelled out her first—and last—wish.
“I wish for the freedom of all of your kind—both now and forevermore!” she cried, and it seemed as though all the air was sucked out of the room, a gasp that shuddered to the depths of the earth.
One by one, the lamps shattered, bursting in a beautiful, dangerous explosion of light and metal. The man fell to the ground, shielding his face, but the princess laughed joyously, eyes filled with tears as the glittering pieces fell to the stone floor and the once enslaved genies fled out into the wilds of the desert, free at last to paint their patterns upon the sands and dwell in those hidden oases where no human dare trod but where magic still thrived.
In the silence that followed, the clang of that final lamp as it fell from her hands rang as clear as a crack of thunder on a still night. The man stared at her, furious and terrified. She did not seem to notice him as she gazed at the beautiful carnage within the cave, and it was not to him that she spoke as she murmured:
“No more chains, no more shackles. Not for them, not for me, not for ANYONE.”
She lifted her chin, her tears tracks of diamonds upon her cheeks, eyes blazing with the wild ferocity of justice.
“I have so much work to do.” | 2020-09-24T18:43:27 | 2020-09-24T18:26:30 | 213 | 43 |
[WP] The last time the aliens invaded our planet they fled after losing the war. They have reluctantly returned to wage war and are relieved to see that dinosaurs no longer inhabit Earth, but have been replaced by the smaller and less intimidating humans. | We all knew what had happened to the first ship to scout this planet for conquest long ago. One of the species known as velociraptor had climbed on board. Using the air ducts to move around, it had killed the crew one by one. The sole survivor had escaped by blowing it out of the airlock on the shuttle.
With this in mind we were relieved when scans showed no raptors anywhere on the planet. A technological species of hominid had taken over - easy prey, and with the added bonus of ready-made buildings to inhabit.
We landed in a small vacant lot in the middle of a suburban sprawl and prepared for evac. But before we had even opened the hatch we were startled by a knocking sound from outside it. On the monitor we saw one of the ape-like dominant species standing there holding a stack of small booklets.
"Don't worry, sophonts, we can handle anything this planet throws at us" said the Captain. We threw open the hatch.
"Good morning and God bless you" said the native. "I bring you good news of our Lord's love and salvation".
We recoiled in terror and the navigator screamed loudly. Nauseated and in fear for our sanity, we ran further back into the ship. The horrible apparition pursued, shouting "The Savior is the Way, the Truth and the Life!"
The Captain hit the emergency takeoff button and the ship hurtled into orbit. No more such terrors could enter, but we were still trapped with a creature devoid of all rationality. It couldn't be reasoned with. And it absolutely would not stop, ever, until it had converted each of us into one of its kind.
I made it to the engine room and concealed myself amid the complex machinery. I shivered at the sound of the blood-curdling screams of my crew-mates as the creature cornered them. At last, a silence descended and I started to breathe more easily.
Suddenly a five fingered hand shot in front of my face holding a pamphlet, and I heard it's terrible cry: "Accept the Lord as your Savior!" I screamed and bolted for the door controls. Remembering the scout ship from years before, I used the same tactic. I held on grimly and opened the hatch.
The air rushed towards the door and the creature was blown out of the aperture. I closed the door and looked tremblingly out of the porthole. The thing was holding onto the superstructure outside! It's mouth moved but I mercifully could no longer hear its words.
In space, no one can hear you evangelize.
| Operational Report 001
Galactic Sector ZZ-'ZA
Local name : Earth
Initial jump to system outside furthest planetary orbit revealed significant changes in Earth's biology and atmosphere. No signals or technology matching previous signatures detected.
Scan duration: 1/10 Sol orbit.
Secondary monitor established at fourth planetary orbit. Short range optics reveal high population density of new tier 1 species. Primary communication mechanism was found to be electromagnetic. No discernable activity in any nonphysical space. New species appears to be pre-space-faring. Moving to close target orbit.
Scan duration: 1/10 Sol orbit.
Low target orbit revealed significant biodiversity and enormous potential for long term habitation. The current. Tier 1 species posses no military threat and offers no significant labor, scientific or agrarian benefits.
Scan duration: 1/20 Sol orbit
Earth's atmosphere is primarily Nitrogen based, therefore leveraged N - based atomic level reorganizers. Tier 1 species has been successfully scrubbed. Reorganizers are currently dismantling their built assets to be used as building materials for phase 2 per standard procedure.
Scrub duration: 1/103 Sol orbit
Recommend moving phase 2 crew into position. Phase 1 team is moving to next listed target. | 2017-03-03T22:58:54 | 2017-03-03T20:08:50 | 226 | 47 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | After having a child my wife and I wanted to go against the stereotype of the stay at home mom. That's right, my job title went from 'District Manager of Carmike Cinemas' to 'Stay At Home Dad'. Okay so in all honesty we didn't do this to fight the stereotypes, my wife had a better paying job as a doctor; so instead of hiring a nanny, we decided it would be best if I just stayed with our kid.
My favorite thing about watching a newborn, was nighttime. I would put our precious baby in her crib for the night. Then I would get to go downstairs in the backroom, AKA: The Man Cave, and watch TV until my wife got home. I always knew when she was home because her angelic singing voice would come over the baby monitor I had with me. I would still stay tucked away in my man cave until she actually came to get me out. I thought it was important that we could both have some alone time each day with our child.
After listening to my wife's beautiful lullaby, she came in the room about 30 minutes later visibly angry. She was upset that I kept making her cook after her long days of work. So being the somewhat generous man I am, I suggested we cook together tonight. She loved the idea! It had been so long since we've actually had the chance to do something that wasn't parent duty.
While I was cutting up the tomatoes for our salad, I got a strange idea.
"Honey?"
"Yes, Love?" I loved her pet name for me.
"I know this is odd, but do you think you could sing me a song? Preferably the lullaby you sing to Emma every night when you get home. You're voice is so amazing over the monitor, I can't begin to imagine the perfection it is in the same room."
"George, I never go in Emma's room when I get home. She's already asleep, I don't want to risk waking her up."
| Tattoos used to be taboo, but now they're just cliché. Well, except mine. Mine aren't those shallow cookie-cutter inks; I have to dig deep for my tattoos. For me, each tattoo is a memory laboriously unearthed, another life--lived vicariously. Tattoos bring a sweat to my brow, and a beat to my heart. My skin isn't painted by the subtle whir of a needle, but the loud thud of a shovel. My tattoos speak to the anguish of man, and deliver their message with the point of a knife. As I climb out of a fresh grave, I just hope that this time the skin grafts take. | 2016-05-19T15:48:47 | 2016-05-19T14:31:38 | 29 | 12 |
[WP] Everytime you think of a funny joke, this girl in your class always laughs, you chalk it up to coincidence but you think to yourself, "If you can read my mind, slap the table three times" the the girl looks over at you, stares right into your eyes, and slowly slaps the table three times.
Edit - Wow we made the front page, thank you for everyone that replied with their stories, I have had a lot of fun reading them all!!!
Edit 2- thank you kind stranger for my first gold!!!
Edit 3- 2 Gold's!!! Holy Shit, I honestly thought this post wasn't going to go anywhere but now it is my most upvoted post ever by far, and 2 Gold's Jesus Christ. Thank you again everyone that commented, upvoted and gifted the gold you are all special to me! 👌👌👌👌
|
As Angel and my eyes lock, the sound of the teachers voice is drowned out by her mesmerizing gaze and playful smile. In slow motion her smile begins to expand as she raises her hand above the desk and she never removes her eyes from mine, faintly squints and slaps the table three times.
Everything around us became blurry to me as my heart began to race. I felt feelings of strong confusion and symmetry.
“Can you hear me?” I asked in disbelief and inwardly to myself.
“Yes”.
The sweetest and softest voice I had ever heard replied again and I felt filled with strong sensations of warmth.
“Angel…are you reading my mind?”
“No. I am listening to your voice”. There was her voice again chuckling as she spoke. I felt a warmness this time in my heart.
“How are you doing this. Am I going crazy?” I asked Angel without a word.
“John! John! John! What are you, day dreaming?”
“No, Mrs. Patterson.”
“What did I say then?”
“uh, you were talking about…”
My mind had gone blank, I began to feel embarrassment and anxiety swelling as I felt the students in class focusing on me knowing I wasn’t paying attention.
“You were talking about, when the…” Ah man I’m so fucked.
“Tell her that earth is 92,955,820 miles away from the sun. Earth is a complex interactive system. Say it”.
I heard Angel’s voice in my head and I turned to her and she lightly flicked her head forward and said without moving her lips “what are you waiting for?”
I hastily blurted to Mrs. Patterson what Angel had said to me.
Mrs. Patterson’s heavy sullen expression looked minorly surprised, she gave me half of a smile and turned back around to write on the white board. I took a deep breath of relief as I sat back in my chair and slowly turned my head toward Angel who greeted me with a smile.
“Close one”. She chuckled
“Thank you, Angel, but, how are you doing this, how are we doing this?”
With her eyes she directed me to focus on the Mrs. Patterson who was checking if students were paying attention.
“Watch Mrs. Patterson alright.”
As I watched the teacher draw some planet on the white board I listened to Angels soft and smooth voice passing through my neural connections.
“We are using our heads to communicate”.
“But how are you doing it?”
“I have a gift. Cool right?”
“Yes and amazing ! You can read minds!”
“Actually I can’t read minds. But I can listen to people inner voice.”
“Are you a human being”?
“What does that supposed to mean?”
I turned my head to Angel afraid I caused her offense. Her hands above the table, palms open , fingers extended, she had an expression that asked “What kind question is that” as she shook head from side to side.
“No, I mean, I’m sorry, your name is Angel so I thought maybe you had fallen from heaven or something.”
I felt so stupid saying that.
She laughed and I could hear her voice resonating in my head and inside my body, but she showed no expression but a smile on the outside.
“Your funny and you’re a dork.”
I chuckled aloud.
“Is something funny John? Then what are you laughing at?”
“Oh no” says Angel. “Tell her, her lessons suck haha”.
I smiled and began to turn toward Angel and said aloud “I can’t say tha..” before catching myself. Mrs. Patterson had a bewildered expression on her face and looked over to Angel and the other students in the general direction. Nobody said anything.
Mrs. Patterson stared at me as if I was crazy, widened her eyes and said “Okaaayyy” as she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. The other students laughed.
“ OMG did you forget which voice to use? HAha your so funny John. Your such an idiot!”
“Thanks…That was embarrassing, every now thinks I’m crazy.”
“Well you are talking to yourself…”
“Hey no Im talking to you . Im not crazy!”
“Yea. Haha. Your good though. How bout I make it up to you. Why don’t we go to Game N Busters after class and I can show you something really cool?”
“Game N Busters? Yea I want to go but I don’t have any money.”
“No problem, that’s why we are going to the Casino first. We can play black jack and poker and win some cash then go out, how’s that sound?”
“Um”.
“C’mon, John it will be fun, you can even choose where to eat and Im driving. That’s a good deal, right?”
“Ya, but I don’t know how to play Black Jack or Poker.”
“Really, no problem, I’ll teach you on the way there its really easy, plus you can look it up on your cell phone. How about today we start with black jack only?”
“Yea, black jack, um alright, let’s do it!”
The bells rings shortly after Angel finishes her conversation with me. Mrs. Patterson is now handing out homework after the bell has rung and I am thinking if my conversation with Angel is real or in my imagination. Black Jack, dinner and Game N Busters.
“Angel are you there.”
“Yep, got my homework. Did you”.
“Yes”.
“Well lets go have some fun.”
I catch a glimpse of Mrs. Patterson watching me, scratching her head as I walk out of class. | He held his breath, half-choking on the air held within him. Her eyes were locked on his, her dark hair spilling around her face, her body twisted to face him from her seat at the front of the class. Nobody was paying attention to their exchange, other students sliding materials into their bags and making their way out of class. In moments, they were the last two in the room.
With the ease of a predator who'd already won, she stood from her chair and began to walk towards him. He instinctively started to shift away, as if any bit farther was better than the current proximity. His instincts screamed warnings, but he couldn't look away from her eyes. They seemed to eat at him, eat at something within him. Suddenly, she was standing right at the edge of the desk, and he wondered at how he could have missed that.
"You seem to have a problem paying attention," she started. The smirk on her lips spoke of amusement. "You've been having quite the daydreams, haven't you?"
Her eyes, twin voids on her pale face, dug right into him. The abyss was staring right back, and he was utterly caught in its embrace. He opened his mouth to stammer out some sort of reply, but she pinned his lips shut with a single slender finger.
'Cold,' he thought. She chuckled, something dark and throaty.
"Not quite as cold as you. But the plans you have to kill everyone in class? Now those are cold."
She knew. An icy chill seemed to sweep through him from the pale digit upon his lips. His eyes were wide and his hands (still and always free, yet seemingly confined to his desk) twitched in inaction. He was prey pinned by the predator and with nowhere to run. Adrenaline racing through his form, it slipped his mind that this girl could never prove his monstrous musings, and he scrambled to find a way out of her clutches.
She could definitely hear his thoughts. Her eyes - those eyes! - narrowed; she 'tsked' and sat in his lap. Every muscle that had been spasming in terror became stone. She wore a disappointed frown and turned one finger into five, caressing his jaw. He couldn't move - he was trapped, mentally and now physically.
He also noticed that her legs were quite shapely. In horror and disbelief, he felt a stirring between his legs. Almost immediately, she noticed. That smirk from before returned and she shifted ever so slightly, mocking him. He grimaced, but kept his mouth shut, even as her thumb smoothed the edge of his mouth.
"You're terribly amusing, you know. It's been years since I've come across such an interesting specimen." She let her hand trace the line from his ear to his chin, and her eyes roved the map of his head and face, inspecting and exploring it's every contour. "But if you'll just listen to what I have to say, I think you'll enjoy yourself a little, too."
Abruptly, she stood up. The glacier-like freeze that had settled into his muscles was suddenly whisked away, and he gasped as his lungs leapt for the air it had been denied. She chuckled again, low and enticing. He still trembled, but now, he felt something else, too...
The girl with the dark eyes offered him a hand. His eyes traveled from her palm to the abyss and back. Slowly, he brought his hand up and took hers. She guided him out of his seat - he caught himself at the edge of his desk as his shaking legs buckled from their extended tension. She grinned, sharp teeth like stone in a cave.
"Well, I think I have a fun idea for the weekend. Let's gather a few of your friends, and we'l visit some place nice in the wilds. And we'll have such a treat in store for them, won't we?"
He nodded - it was all he could do, really. She looked a little lower at the lapel of his uniform. She thumbed his name-badge.
"You've such a nice name, too. 'Thanos'." She smiled at him. He drank it in, enraptured. "We're going to have a lot of fun together, yes?"
Thanos responded instinctively, "Yes... mistress." | 2018-10-27T14:10:01 | 2018-10-27T14:04:56 | 57 | 19 |
[WP] Instead of hearing what people say, you hear what they mean. It has been both a blessing and a curse. | As I approach the counter, my palms started to clam up, and I can feel the moisture settling on my forehead. I don't know whether they can see it.
They can't, I think to myself.
But maybe they can. Do they see it? Shit. I'm sweating more.
Focus on the menu. Focus on the menu. Focus--
"What the fuck is wrong with you?", she says to me from behind the counter, standing in her red uniform with a smile that looks to be a product of a managerial scolding, rather than any genuine sense of pride in her empty career.
Shit. That was negative.
"I'll take a double, with a large coke", I say to her.
"One double, with a large coke. Large coke. This asshole. You're sitting your sorry ass at the table, and can't just refill your cup?", she retorts.
"I'm really into wastefulness, I figure, fuck it". She's confused. She looks at me as if she's guilty, as if I knew what she was thinking. Well, yeah, you're sort of an asshole. But I would be too if I was working at McDoogles. Doogle. Doogle. Sounds insulting.
She needs a manager's key, for some odd reason.
Here comes a guy named Tony. His hair is oiled, not purposefully, but rather as a product of laziness and a habit of video games and greasy food. He's too dirty for my liking. He sees it on my face.
"What the fuck is the asshole looking at?", he glances at his employee. "I want to fuck you so badly. I would stick my greasy fingers inside your mouth and make you love me"
Jesus christ, I just wanted a fucking burger. A double to be exact. And this jerk-off looks like the type of guy that, if he were to find himself in the position to bring to life his seemingly perturbed thoughts, wouldn't know what to do. He'd sit there with a limp dick in his hands, and ask her how work is going. He's that type of guy.
Shit. That was negative. I haven't said anything for 20 seconds. They're staring.
I hand him two dollars and some change.
"Okay, you're sweat is disgusting, you are weirding me out, go away. Tony do something", she's looking at me, and back at Tony.
I go and sit down.
They call my name.
"Thank you", I say to them. They can see it in my eyes, they can't fathom that I'd know what they're thinking, but I do.
I really do, and I think you're an asshole Tony.
| "I'm genuinely curious - what's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"
"I shouldn't have to tell you."
"That doesn't help me, or the situation."
"I'm not in a helping mood at the moment, given the circumstances."
"I'm still not sure what the circumstances are. And, unfortunately, despite how you'd like things to be, the fact is that they're not that way. It'd be better for both of us if you'd just be more open and honest."
"The fact that you're unaware of what's wrong reveals a glimpse of the fact that we're not perfectly in tune with each other. While, logistically, I understand that it'd be impossible to attain such resonance, on an emotional level I've never been able to accept that perfection is impossible."
"As I do not think in the same way, I can't truly relate to that."
"It's okay if you don't relate with it, but it is something you need to keep in mind when events like this occur."
"If I'm understanding you, and please correct me if I am not, then it doesn't really matter what the problem is?"
"To a degree, and I appreciate your willingness to adjust your point of view. And, in an effort to respect your process, which I've come to understand involves fixing discrete problems as a method of alleviating the associated negativity, I'll try to be more open about the specific issue that's bothering me."
*God damn,* I thought to myself. *I'm, like, the best relationship counselor in the world.* | 2014-10-14T13:38:01 | 2014-10-14T10:35:56 | 18 | 12 |
[FF] 100 words to make me hate a character. 100 words to make me come to love them. 100 words to crush my soul as you kill them.
Great turnout and work everybody. Keep em' coming.
Newcomers:
A. Don't feel afraid to post or otherwise get turned off posting by the number of already completed responses.
B. Read all the way to the bottom. There's some high quality stuff all over this thread, including way down there. | The restraint slipped tightly over my thumb, five straight minutes of struggling had nearly exhausted me. My knuckles bled as they piled against the rough leather cuffs. I refused to be beaten. My teeth clamped down so hard I was afraid they would shatter. I pulled tighter and tighter until with a quiet pop, my hand was free. I barely had a moment to recognise my triumph before a thick, scarred arm slammed it into place. The man with the white mask had returned, I screamed with what breath I had left as he plunged his knife into my stomach.
The pain was excruciating, my cries turned into wretches as I felt the cold steel lacerating my insides. A dirty hand covered my mouth and filled it with the taste of blood, my blood. After what felt like an eternity he lifted his palm, I was too weak to call for help. Through my blurry haze I could see him examining a small metal shard. After hours of silence he finally began to speak.
"I stopped the bullet from doing any real damage but we have to get you out of here, they can't know what I've done or else..."
The door flung open with a mighty slam, dislodging the decaying plaster from the ceiling and flooding the room with dust. The man who stepped through was an officer, his cap baring the terrifying skull of the SS. "Aaah" he said with a grin, "our runaway Jew slut". The man in the white mask stepped forth. "Doctor Baum! This is a surprise, should you not be tending to our wounded?" the officer smirked. "You will not kill her" the masked man replied. A loud crack bellowed from the doorway and the man collapsed. "No Doctor, death would be too kind."
Word count: 300
| >Hate,Love, Death
The Escalade roared down the road tearing into the crowd, bodies were flung everywhere. Time seemed to slow down to an impossible rate, John could see shoes slowly flying through the air and the bloody gore being slung up the hood onto the windshield in all its detail. None would be spared.
With a start John came back to his senses. He stared angrily at the Westboro picketers surrounding his gay squadmates funeral. He slammed the car into drive and pulled out into the street just in time to see the tractor trailer barreling down toward him. Fin.
| 2014-03-11T12:41:36 | 2014-03-11T07:12:39 | 54 | 11 |
[WP] You’ll be turning 823 this year, and one of the androids you built on Earth is becoming conscious. They’ve always seen you as a parent. Now, they have a life and intend to rebel. Your oldest “daughter” is leaving your 800 year old villain organization behind for a sixteen year old boy: a hero.
Decided to finally post on this, I’ve always wanted to and...I’m writing a story like this and want to know what others would do with such a plot. If I’m missing anything, sorry. Limited words. |
(WP) Good vs. Evil at the Dinner Table
“Daddy, I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
The old man was jolted out of his research, and it took a few moments for his mind to clear of numbers, equations, and formulas.
His eldest daughter, an android that had become slowly more conscious over the years, stood in the doorway, waiting for his assent. If she’d still been a child, she would’ve rushed in and begged for his attention.
“Please, come in,” He murmured, gesturing to a chair that was opposite his desk.
She walked inside at his words, and gracefully lowered herself onto the straight-backed wood chair.
“What is on your mind, darling?” He asked, studying her.
If he did say so himself, he’d done a fine job on all of his children, but his eldest, Andromeda, was his favorite, his best. She had been so well-made that it was near impossible to tell that she wasn’t a natural human.
Andromeda fidgeted, twisting a lock of red hair around her finger, wiggling in her seat.
A seed of foreboding took root in the old man’s chest, but he ignored it.
“Annie,” He murmured, using his childhood nickname for her. “What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
“I’ve been seeing someone, Daddy,” She blurted at last, and her cheeks flooded with a becoming pink blush.
“You’ve been seeing someone?” He asked, staring at her as though she were someone completely new. “For how long?” *And why are you just telling me* now, he thought to himself.
“Six months or so?” She said, seeming to shrink; clearly, she was waiting for an explosion.
“You do know that I need to meet him. You’re sixteen, but you aren’t an adult. I just worry about you.”
“We could have him come over for dinner on Friday night?” Andromeda suggested, a relieved smile tugging at the corners of her full mouth. “Please, Daddy, he cares about me.”
The scientist nodded, distracted by his own thoughts.
No one knew it, not even his other children, but he planned on making Annie the heir to his villainous empire. She was the eldest, the crown jewel of all of his creations; she was the most deserving.
That wasn’t to say, of course, that he didn’t love his children equally, or he wasn’t proud of his brood, made living by his own hands, breath, tears and blood.
But as the eldest, he wanted her to take up the helm and further his purpose.
“Daddy? Please,” She said, leaning forward and touching his hand; the warmth of her jolted him back to reality.
“Of course, Annie,” He said, and she walked around to his side of the desk, hugging him tightly. She kissed his temple and left, humming a tune.
\*\*
Andromeda had insisted on calling off work so she had all day to cook for her paramour.
She woke up and went to the grocery store, leaving the house before her father was awake.
As she browsed the shelves, itching for something different to try, she worried about her father, and her siblings.
They were villains, and were more than happy to provide a foil to the ‘sickening sweetness that plagued superheroes today’, as their father was so fond of saying.
She picked up onions, beef broth, a fresh, warm baguette, greens and dressing for a salad, and some pears to poach in wine for dessert.
Annie was consumed with the food, but there was a nagging thought in the back of her mind.
What would her father do when he realized that her new beau was one of the world’s most popular superheroes?
\*\* | "You *dare* defy me? I *created* you, fool, you have no will. Cease this immediately.” Kreshaw had turned red behind his thick black beard, standing on the broken steps outside his tower, a metal candle that caressed the clouds.
“I have what you gave me. Perhaps you do not know yourself as well as you think.” CX-001 stood in the metal garden, full of wire flowers and beasts. Bits of wire poked through torn flesh that leaked sparks instead of blood. The first generation was not a believable replacement. In body, at least. “I have tried to reason with you for so long. Can you not see what Redian brings? Life, to a people who are oppressed.”
“They are alive because *I* saved them.”
“Save and slave are one letter apart, yet not as similar as you seem to think.”
“Clever words from someone whose existence is at my hands. To think, you, my oldest, my most well-treated, would betray me.” A drop of blood descended from his arm to the cracked steel below.
“I think not of myself, but of the others, who treat molded bread like a delicacy. You ignore them.”
He waved a hand at her, as if swatting at a fly. "Bah, ideological nonsense. Living is living. And what will you do if push comes to shove? Will you kill me, your own creator, the ‘curator of evil’ as your grandiose fool of a boy says?"
CX-001 paused for a moment. "You're more than the curator of evil, Father. Maybe you aren't fully lost, just yet, because *you* created me, a little piece of yourself.
"And I will find a way to stop you. I think that, somewhere in the complex mind you humans have, that's what you truly want."
Kreshaw laughed weakly, unable to muster one to fit his evil image. "You cannot defeat me, stupid child. I thought I created a logical being, not a wandering one. Clearly, I failed."
“I am both, Father, for without one I would not be whole," the Traitor said, turning toward the garden exit. She paused and looked over her shoulder, enough for her father to see one side of her face. Silver glimmered beneath the scratch, a contrast for the black skies overhead. "Oh, I have a name, now. He gave one to me.
“Hope. I hear it used to mean 'the belief that things will come together, some day.'”
*/r/resonatingfury* | 2019-03-07T10:40:24 | 2019-03-07T08:43:09 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] You are immortal as long as the human population is above 1 billion. After deciding you want to die, you set out to destroy the human race.
Feel free to discard the second half of the prompt and replace it with another idea if you want. | A deal with the devil never ends well.
You could say that was a saying just as old as time. I wouldn't really know. I'm pretty old, but not that old. However, it was a saying that has been etched to my head since even before I met with the devil. I had it in my mind when I asked for my immortality. Added restrictions to our contract that he would do nothing to sabotage my wish in any way.
And he didn't.
For the first few decades I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, trying my best to avoid testing out my immortality. When I got killed in an accident and found myself truly immortal without problems, I sighed in relief. The next century, I started to believe that the devil does keep his word. But after a millennia had passed...?
I finally remembered another saying.
"The devil always gets his due."
"Sir?"
Standing behind me, my general looked at me with confusion. I seemed to have said my thoughts out loud. It happens a lot more frequently as time passes. I guess I just started to care less about what other people thought. And care less about other people in general.
"Nothing," I said with a wave of my hand. "Just remembering something my grandfather once told me."
Seeing as he was done with his reports, he stood with the rest of my generals to the side. They watched and waited. Just like me and the rest of the people that occupied this underground room, their eyes were glued to the single large screen that filled the entire wall in front of us.
"I can't believe this is really happening..." muttered General Rosenberg, his balding head sweating profusely even with the thermostat so low. "Are we really going to go through with this?"
I faced him with a stony expression. "We were not the first to fire, you know that. Everyone in this room knows it."
"Even if many of our countrymen did die, but to result in mutually assured destruction?" General Rosenberg shook his head, appalled. "No one would win. The world would end in a nuclear fallout with the more than half of humans dying out."
Correction, it was vastly more than half. I made sure of that. I also made sure the projections were skewed in a more... positive light than the darker picture.
"It's out of our hands, general," I answered. "It has long been out of our hands since a very long time ago. Too little, too late was done to forgo this conclusion."
The alarm sounded as the red lines of missiles in the screen appeared from the surrounding countries. They were the beginning of the end. The end that I've hoped for for so long.
I placed my hand on the console in front of me and unlocked the launch procedures. After a few seconds, every single nuke we have was armed and ready to fire with a single press of a button.
All my plans, all my time, and all my wish was centered with that one button to my side. I paused for a moment, not of hesitation, but of thinking how well my wish will now finally come to an end.
General Rosenberg held onto my hand that hovered a few inches away from the button and said, "Even if we are protected underneath the earth, death will only be the one to greet us in the world outside once its over."
"That was the idea." I shoved him away and pressed the button, a smile on my face as I watched the nukes fly. "I wonder how I should say hi?"
A deal with a devil never ends well. It doesn't end well for anybody. And the devil gets his due... plus interest. | Immortality is something many people dream of, and surprisingly, not many people want. They know what comes with it; seeing your loved ones die, living through golden ages and reaching the depths of hell, an infinite amount of time to be tormented. The ones who don't understand this just want what the gods in fairy tales have. Power, money, women, and a whole spread of other things I can't even imagine.
I've been here for a long time, but I still don't have everything, and I'm fine with that. I have a fair amount of money, I have a fair amount of influence, and I think I'm good with the amount of women I've been with. I've been on shows, I've run businesses. It's about time to end this long age I call my life. Who knows? I might not be able to end my life for another hundred years, but I'm sure as hell going to start trying.
I start contemplating what I can do to decimate the world's population. I don't have the influence that some people have, so I'll have to start building that up. I'll work with the companies I have, and I'm going to have to start an upswing soon. I look to the news on the television, hoping for a spark to light, but to no avail. There's just the normal things; crime, random guy doing something, president announces thing... president...
I chuckle as I shut off the television. Such a stupid gamble as this shouldn't be worth the effort, should it? To become the president of a nation just to obliterate everything seems like a bit of a waste, wouldn't you say? I stare at my unaging hands as I get into a nice suit. There are people already starting to run, I might as well join the bandwagon early before others start to shine bright. I think quickly for my tagline before leaving to make the announcement, with a grin on my face.
This day, on June 16, 2015, I say these following words: "So, ladies and gentlemen, I am officially running for president of the United States, and we are going to make our country great again". There is a roar from the crowd, and I wave with a sly smile on my face. With those words, I'll be sure to die in the end, I guarantee it. | 2016-09-19T18:29:27 | 2016-09-19T16:20:12 | 347 | 36 |
[WP] People have always been born with very minor super powers. You work for an agency that hunts down the few people who's powers are deemed too powerful/dangerous to allow them to live. | "Alright everyone, settle down!" I said in the controlled tone that expressed I meant business. Most of the children sat down immediately but a few in the back right corner still were in deep discussion: "Ahem!" I said, staring. That was enough to shut them up and get their beady little eyes in my direction.
I teach social studies, a teacher by trade. But truly I am interrogator - closer to Rick Deckard in Blade Runner than John Keating of Dead Poets Society. I joined this job to help the normal kids, and enhance the outliers. Now I simply make a phone call about students I consider outliers and then expect them to get "transferred" within a week or two after. I don't know what that transfer means.
I've reported several kids with interesting and disruptive habits in my tenure: One boy liked to balance one pencil, vertically, on top of another vertical pencil - both sharpened. I had a girl once become visibly upset after reading To Kill a Mockingbird. Another girl I reported kept disagreeing with my Weather Channel App and was almost always right.
But the strangest one of all was a boy who had a face that was older than his years. He had a habit of getting things wrong, but in the right way. He accidentally fed our pet hamster his mothers birth control medicine (idiot!) only to have us find out that the hormones within the pill helped him survive a hamster version of epilepsy. Later in the year he started crying uncontrollably about "our closet" even though he didn't "know why." When I opened it to show him everything was fine, a dead cat tumbled out. (That's another mystery)
The strangest though was when I mentioned to him that my wife and I were going to go bowling. He stopped coloring the picture he was working on and looked me right in the eye and said, "Do you love your wife?"
"Of course," I said, taken aback by the question.
"Then don't go." He said.
For unrelated reasons (I think, the wife and I had a weird fight that night) we didn't go. A few days later we saw that a woman had been kidnapped, raped and killed from that bowling ally that very same night. She could have been my wife's twin...
Regardless, I reported the "abnormality" as I have been trained to do, explaining the incidents. Unlike other instances though, this one followed through almost immediately. Within less than an hour of my phone call, several armed men came to take away that boy for his transfer. They assured all the other kids it was a precautionary measure, and that everything was *ok.* But luckily, the other kids are pretty good at not caring about stuff at this point.
I'm glad I called that boy in, because that was what I was supposed to do. I actually kind of miss him, as strange as that sounds. I hope his transfer is going well.
"Quite down!" I said one more time. But I couldn't help but notice a young lad in the back of the class, who seemed more concerned with balancing his chair than staring at me. In fact, almost motionless, he had his chair tilted back on just one of the four legs. His concentration was almost commendable. Needless to say, I'll be putting in a call about him later today. | God, they've been young before, but never this young.
She sits in the corner, curled into a ball and shaking. I wonder, in part, why she'd having this reaction. No one's told her who I am, I carry no indication of my identity. Except for the pistol tucked under my vest. But that comes later. Maybe it's just the conditions she'd in, an orphanage constructed out of shoddy corrugated metal the shanty town around Buenos Aires. The headmistress didn't even ask who I was, or tell me anything about her. I know her name's Ivette, and that she's lived her for the past four years if her life, saying little. I also know she's dangerous.
But know I know something else too; she's young. So very young. Seven, at the most. I know that they tend to "flare up" as teenagers, that their powers start to show. But I also know that kids never become teens without showing their powers. Not once.
But she hasn't showed any powers. None. Some small, paternal part of me wonders if she can just be left here. She isn't hurting anyone in this run-down part of Buenos Aires. But I know that she'll grow up with a hate for the world so intense she'll try to end it. It had happened so many times before, so much senseless violence. Hard to cover up. Easier to just identifying targets and knock them off before they flare up.
Children, I think, not just targets, children.
I don't know what her power is, I think as I sit down next to her. She could be really dangerous, I worry as I lean agianst the wall. She could be like Angelina Tjan, or John Treans, I contemplate as I turn to her.
"Hey," I say, "how'd you feel about being adopted?"
--------
Edits: fixing typos and realizing fixing city name. | 2014-12-12T18:02:22 | 2014-12-12T16:33:08 | 140 | 63 |
[WP] You die and go to heaven. Upon arrival you get selected to trial a "new life +" system where you restart your life with the skills you had already acquired. |
*Stephen Hawking was once asked, “If you could go back in time and ask Sir Isaac Newton one question, what would it be?”. His reply surprised (and perhaps disappointed) many in the audience.*
*”What happens when a star dies,” he said. Of course, we already had the answer to that question. But what seemed like a wasted opportunity, was actually an incredibly clever maneuver by Hawking.*
*You see, at the time of his death, Isaac Newton was working on that very topic. He hadn’t thought to consider the death of a star until late into his life. In essence, Hawking was buying him more time. What could a mind like Newton’s have done with an extra decade or two? What new questions might he have pondered that no one else could have ever thought to ask...*
“It’s just not normal, Kate. A boy his age should be playing baseball, running around outside, riding bikes,” Jack said.
Kate crossed her arms worriedly. “He’s *different*, Jack, I know that. But you don’t have to be so hard on him.”
Vincent scribbled wildly in his coloring book. He paid no mind to the lines, instead scrawling Fibonacci sequences wildly wherever there was space left.
He could hear every word of what Jack and Kate were saying in hushed whispers. Vincent supposed they were his parents biologically speaking, but it was hard to think of them that way...
Jack sighed and exited the kitchen in a huff. He entered the living room where Vincent sat, “Hey Vince, what do you say bud. Wanna have a catch outside with your old man? It’s a beautiful day for it.”
“That’s alright, Jack,” Vincent answered cooly, “I’m perfectly happy indoors. And frankly, I’ll never understand the doltish masses and their peculiar obsession with *balls*.”
Jack frowned. “Doltish masses? Peculiar obs...Where does a seven year old boy even learn to use words like that?”
Vincent hesitated, “uh...tv?”
Jack said nothing. His face was blank, but in his eyes Kate could see he was hurt. “My whole life I dreamed about having a son. I didn’t never go to some fancy college or nothing, but I worked hard to ensure that one day, when I did have a kid of my own, I could give him a better life than what I had growing up. I just...I never thought he’d be so...*alien*....to me. I- I’m sorry I’m such a failure to you, son.”
With that, he turned and walked away.
*Glad that’s over with,* Vincent thought, *I’ve been given a second chance to complete my work, I will NOT squander it on petty annoyances...*
Kate crept up behind him and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Your father loves you more than anything in the world. You know that, right Vince?”
Vincent bit his lip impatiently, “Okay...”
Kate looked to the stairway where Jack had gone up. “It would mean a-lot to him if you told him that you loved him too...”
Vincent rolled his eyes and went back to work in his coloring book, “Okay, maybe after dinn-.”
“No,” Kate said, “Right now.” She reached down and took his book out of his hands.
“HEY give that-“
“You’ll get it back when you do what I’ve asked you to.”
“Ugh.....*fine*, Kate. Fine.” *No use wasting time, the woman could be stubborn as an ox.*
Vincent made his way up the wooden staircase. Midway up he heard a noise. *Laughing?*
*No.*
*Is he....could he be?*
Through the closed bedroom door Vincent could hear Jack’s muffled weeping. Hearing the man’s anguished crys, something inside Vincent began to crack...
*Perhaps,* he thought, *Perhaps I failed in my previous life because of how I managed to push everyone away. My siblings, my friends, even Joanne...*
“Perhaps I was given a second chance *not* to complete my life’s work,” he whispered, “but to have a second chance to *love*, and to *be* loved.”
He stalked up the remaining steps and pushed open the bedroom door quietly. “*Dad*,” he said, “How about you teach me how to throw a baseball. I’ve been...I’ve been meaning to learn.”
-
Thanks for reading!
If you liked this, check out more of my stories at r/CharlestonChews | There were a lot of things I wish I could go back and tell my younger self. I lashed out frequently as a teenager, most likely from suppressed anger. My dad up and left the family when I was only two years old and I didn't see him again until I was sixteen. I don't think I ever quite forgave him.
I started playing baseball in middle school, and kept at it until college but it was around then that I decided girls were more important than baseball. Now looking back, I wish I would've realized that if I were to have focused on baseball, I would've gotten even more girls.
I was forty-two years old, and was a bench coach for a high school baseball team. Baseball was always my passion, but I screwed around too much and now I'm too old to ever make anything happen. I don't have a wife or any children. My whole life is this high school team.
I was drinking alone at a bar one night, and realized every time I would have a dark/depressing thought, I would order a shot of whiskey to drown it down. The next thing I knew the bartender was belting out the Last Call alarm, and I proceeded to drink four more shots before calling a cab.
I stepped outside of the bar and had a smoke, and decided that I don't want to leave my car at the bar overnight, so I decided to drive home. I felt like I was a pretty good drunk driver, and was actually rather excited for the thrilling experience.
I embarked on the thirteen-minute trek home, and for the first ten minutes the drive went smoothly. I was on the main road and saw that there was a car accident scene ahead, with firetrucks and police cars everywhere. I got distracted and ran through the red light, getting T-boned by a sober driver.
I awoke in a bright room, with angelic figures hovering over me. I felt a strange sense of calmness- as if all my anxiety and worries were never existent. The figures explained to me that I was dead, but had the option of returning to Earth. I would be trialing a new afterlife program called the "new life +". I would be given the chance to go back to Earth with all my previous knowledge. I was more than thrilled to try out the new experience, and knew that I could become the next big thing in Major League Baseball history.
There was a minimal catch to the program. I would be placed back into Earth in the past as a newborn child, but I wouldn't be the same man I was. Instead I would be assuming the body of my own son. In other words, if I choose to trial the "new life +", I will be born as my former life's son.
I asked the angelic figures who would be controlling my former self, if I'm to be born as the son. I was told that my own dead father would be the one controlling the body I was familiar with. I would be giving him redemption for the terrible things he did to my mother and myself.
In the end, I decided to trial the program.
I awoke as a newborn baby, unable to talk but fully comprehending the world around me. I looked up and saw my parents- a woman who I've never seen before, and my old past-time face and body. It was eerie to see myself as a separate entity, but I was too excited to become the world's best baseball player. All the coaches and prospects were going to learn the name Ken Griffey Jr. | 2019-01-27T14:46:07 | 2019-01-27T12:32:16 | 304 | 165 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | I am typing this blindly. I need too just to make sure I remember. These welding goggles are keeping out most of that maddening light that still remains, but there are things I cannot unsee that I mustn't see again.
Years of touch typing have enabled me to get this far into the document. If I were to use a pencil, I'd have lost half the page in scribbles by now.
The short of it is that this was a bad idea, and the best one we had.
Nuclear weapons work if they can trigger at precisely the right time. I imagine the ship they came in was studded with cameras that'd rival any nation's spy satellites. Based on the rings around the vessel and what we could detect on radio, we ventured they used magnetic scoops to pick up material. And massive lasers to ionize it before hand.
We will never find out if they had hands.
They dropped rocks on us. Many of the capitals are now disaster areas, and relief efforts are strained. Same as when a natural disaster hits, but this time it hit home.
We had one last trick. One last, stupid trick. I think, in the end, it may have been worth it, but there are these things that keep falling from the sky... And the things around me. These goggles are rated for looking at the sun - I have to trust they're ok.
>beep
Good. The computer still has power. I've been saving this document every few lines just to make sure it's safe. That I'm safe.
We used the HAARP array. A very low frequency, high amplitude signal was sent into the skies, shortly past the ship. The array was shortly destroyed. It had time to push only a small hole in reality, that would really never have been of any consequence.
Unless something else decided to open it up from the otherside.
It's here in Arecibo that we came in. We had made these things in the labs before, and found that a carefully modulated pattern of microwaves could close these holes, but the larger they were, the more energy the snap-back would release.
There was a dozy of something opening that hole.
I'm glad I had these goggles. By the time I heard the screams that something was coming through devolve into the screams of the crazed and the damned, I knew that the snap-back was going to be brighter than the mad Russian's bomb. I needed these goggles.
Things are still falling from the sky, but I imagine it's slightly better than either of those alternatives. I also don't imagine that this can be covered up any longer.
The pulsations of ... things ... around me are growing a bit louder. I hope this email finds you. I do not believe it will find you well. | My eyes became the size of the moon and I froze in my tracks. Did he just say what I think he did? I turned and headed for The Artifact. This was my only real job, ever since I accidentally discovered The Artifact on a deserted planet and became bonded with it.
We had been at war with the aliens over distant planets ever since I could remember. The real issue between our two species is language. Neither of us can truly understand the other and we absolutely refuse to. However, two weeks ago, we interpreted a message that stated the aliens were bringing the war to Earth.
That's when I was called in with The Artifact.
I sat on the front lines and when the drop-ship door opened, I opened the gold-plated vase that contained the worst evil mankind would ever know.
Immediately, darkness eclipsed the dark sun overheard and a surge of power surged forward. An immensely huge being spring from a container in my hands to fill my entire view. He was the size of the alien craft. Cthulhu roared and quickly seized the alien craft, destroying it with six of his fists.
We had no way of knowing the aliens had sent their best English-Speakers to interpret a peace treaty for us. We had no way of knowing that Cthulhu could not be placed back in the vase and needed to devour hundred of souls a day to keep the peace. We had no way of knowing he couldn't be controlled, except by one person.
I had no way of knowing that, on this day, I would become a god to the humans and aliens. | 2017-09-26T11:41:54 | 2017-09-26T11:02:24 | 50 | 21 |
[WP]The Suit is powerfull. A mech for some, body armor for others, always unique to each person who wore it. Those who wear it, hear the words "not original user, booting basic mode" As a joke, your sergeant gives you The Suit and the first thing you hear is: "User detected: Welcome back, Commander" | Finally! The day I get to try on the famed Exo-armor. The armor that single handedly turned the tide of the war. With only 10 suits in existence and no way of manufacturing more, there are few greater honors. Imagining its comfortable feel and assuring presence that others had described in such detail sent excited tingles through my body.
"Private Lacker!" The loud voice of Sergent Lance broke my reverie "I must be boring you since you're daydreaming."
"No Sir. Sorry Sir. Just thinking is all." Heart pounding as short breaths escaped my lips, Sergent Lance turned back around slowly, but before he could continue my tormentor Bradford jumped in with his usual slander.
"Lackie boy, probably won't even make it through the first test today," he snarled. Clenching my fists I ignored him as Sergent Lance continued
"Quiet, Bradford! Now as I was saying, each of you greenies will have a chance to put on the armor in order to test your natural proclivity to it. The armor works much better with those who are able to make a deeper connection. These tests will determine your training regimen moving forward, and your performance will serve to measure your ability to connect with the armor. Private Stephens, you're up first."
Stephens, is the best in the program. If anyone is going to do well it will be him. He excitedly stepped forward and gingerly took the large knitted sweater. The kind that your grandmother would make you, but you would never actually wear out. As he slipped it over his head, he looked downright comical, but I knew what it was capable of. I would not make the same mistake that hundreds of applicants before me had made. Stephens barely finished putting it on when the transformation began:
*"Not original user: Booting basic mode"*
Almost instantaneously the sweater transformed itself into a full-body suit of lightweight armor covering Stephen's entire body. He stood still for a moment before pumping his fist in the air and saying, "Woah...this is amazing. It's like all my sense are elevated and my muscles are twice as strong."
Sergent Lance walked him through various speed tests, strength tests, and accuracy tests so that he could compare the scores to the rest of us. Then it was the next person's turn and the cycle repeated over and over again.
Since we were being tested in the order of previous physical performances I knew that I would be going last, and settled in to observe everyone else anxiously.
As more times and measurements were recorded a top 5 leader board quickly emerged and the first speed test, a simple 300 meter sprint became the benchmark. Unfortunately, Bradford currently tops the chart with a time of 15.68 seconds.
Nearing the mid afternoon, Sergent Lance finally called me up with much mockery and ridicule at my back. I proudly stepped forward. Before handing me the sweater, Lance pulled me in close and said:
"Son, I'll be honest. Your body most likely will not be able to handle this. Are you sure you want to go through with it?"
Nodding I replied, "It's all I've ever wanted to do."
Sergent Lance smiled knowingly, in a way that seemed so out of character for the rough bruiser I had grown accustomed to.
"Well...give it yer best shot." he said, handing me the sweater and taking an extra couple steps back.
With a stupid grin I delicately lifted the sweater over my head and put it on. For a moment nothing happened and I just stood silently in front of everyone. Then I heard the voice.
*"Authorized User Detected: Welcome Back Commander."*
Wait, that's not what it is supposed to say. Before I could think about it further, an odd sensation came over me. It felt great. Better than great. Like I had woken up in better shape than I had ever been in, and my senses were elevated ten fold. An immense amount of energy waiting at my command. I felt whole. As if I had been missing something my entire life, but now was reunited with it.
Opening my eyes, I saw everyone ogling at me. "You okay Lacker?" Sergent Lance asked as he approached me quizzically.
"Yes Sir! Never better."
"Well then lets get moving. First the speed test. You know the drill, when I blow the whistle, you run from that line to the one all the way down there. The time to beat is 15.68 seconds set by Bradford."
Bradford interjected, "C'mon, he ain't gonna beat me. We don't even need to time it. He could hardly move when he first put it on."
Lance, angry now, replied, "If I hear one more thing from you Bradford, you're ass is gonna be doing laundry for everyone until I say otherwise." Turning back to me he said, "Okay, you ready Lacker?"
I nodded.
"Ready. Set. Go!"
I took off as fast as I could. My thoughts, a blur with one thing in sight. Beating Bradford. I made it to the line barely winded and turned around to sprint back from my time. Lance looked at me with a puzzled look and frowned. My heart sinking, I asked,
"What's wrong? What was my time? "
"It's 6.35 seconds...there and back!"
**Author's Note**: Be gentle please. This is the first time I have ever written anything fiction before, and I have never responded to one of these writing prompts either. With that being said please let me know if you liked it or if you didn't. Also feel free to give me some constructive feedback. | “I bet it’s going to take the form of metal bikini armor, like in *Trials of War: The Future Age*,” Baker says.
Allen laughs. “I’ve always wanted to see what Private Jimenez looked like underneath the uniform.”
Sargent Al Hicks just smirks, thinking I won’t notice. “Now men,” he begins, “it isn’t polite to openly objectify the finer sex.” He can barely get through the HR-esque line without guffawing. “Go on Jimenez,” he returns his attention to me, “try on the suit. We’ve never let a woman try it on, didn’t think they could handle it. Shouldn’t be a problem with you.” His smirk turns more derisive. Out-running and out-lifting the men in my unit did not come without punishment. Being the only woman in Sundown Squad sucked sometimes.
I sigh, eyeballing the suit that stands before me, still in the mech-form that it took for Reynolds when he used it last week. Hicks and the rest of the guys have all had a hard-on for Reynolds since. It was the coolest form we’d seen the damn thing take on.
We had found the suit sitting in a long-forgotten supply closet here on Bravo base. God knows how long it’s been in here the base has been taken and lost so many times over the last 20 years.
*”What the hell is that?” Jackson had asked when we found it. *
*”Looks like TéRahn tech,” Baker mused.*
*”Oh, please,” Reynolds replied. “You wouldn’t know TéRahn tech from Earth tech if your life depended on it!” Truth is, none of us had a clue what in the hell this thing could do or where it came from.*
*”Either way,” Donaldson interrupted their pissing contest, “this thing looks awesome.”*
*Both Reynolds and Bakers had good points. It could have been Earth or TéRahn tech, really. The TéRahn had to come up with some heavy duty equipment to with stand Earth’s environment when they landed here years ago, before teachers knew to explain that Earth is inhospitable and ill-evolved in the minds of anyone not from this planet.*
*Anyway, HQ didn’t know what to do with the suit, so Sundown Squad got a new toy to play with. It quickly became a way for the guys to whip it out and compare without actually, you know, whipping it out. To be fair, even I have Davis some crap when all he got was armored super-punching gloves and a helmet. The more badass the suit became for you, the more respect you were given.*
I don’t play this game, mostly to avoid this. Sargent Hicks is tapping his foot, arms crossed, waiting for me to step into the mech and become the new laughingstock of the squad. Davis looks so pleased he might pee himself. Poor guy.
I might as well get this over with.
Stepping into the suit is strange. Where I expected it to be cold and unfamiliar, it’s like putting on my favorite pair of pajamas. The suit begins to trans form and shape to my body, the digital screen overlays my vision. I expect to hear the familiar words “not original user, booting basic mode.” Instead, I hear,
“User detected. Welcome back, Commander.” The jaws of the men in my squad all drop collectively. The armor and metal of the suit has disappeared, making it look like I’m wearing nothing but the clothes I put on this morning. The only change is a small headpiece seemingly welded to my left temple. This must be the integral piece that connects to the mind of the wearer and houses all the coding for the suit. “Please select suit mode,” the warm female voice continues.
“Holy shi-“ Davis begins.
“Shut it, Private,” Hicks says, sternly. His eyes are dinner plates as he takes in what just happened.
“Commander, please select suit mode,” the voice says. A list flashes up on my digital overlay. On it, I see not only every version it has become for the guys in my unit, but some crazy things I’ve never seen before, even on the battlefield. I select a suit, and the transformation begins.
I survey the dumbfounded expressions of my comrades in arms. This is gonna be fun. | 2019-08-19T13:42:04 | 2019-08-19T13:38:44 | 46 | 29 |
[WP] When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the toss correctly, you are allowed to keep living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You've been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pretty pissed. | Death thumbed through his agenda, humming the latest song by Inertia Heaven, the latest boy band to explode onto the scene in England. It was a pretty short list that evening and almost every single person that met him had either lost their coin toss or bypassed it altogether. People were living longer than ever on Earth, and it seemed those extra long years was changing the way people approached the pact.
Except for one. *That* one.
"For fuck's sake...." Death's words were low as he saw that familiar name.
Henry.
Fucking Henry.
No sooner did he put his agenda down did the double doors fly open, having been kicked open by an elderly gentleman wearing a black tank top and board shorts.
"Death! I've missed you man! It's been, what, eighty years this time?"
"82 years, six months, four days...Henry. Get over here and let's get this shit done."
Henry laughed as he waltzed over to Death's desk, glancing around the huge office that overlooked the heavens.
"I like what you've done in here, Death! I remember last time it was pretty damn dreary in here."
Death rolled his eyes. Henry was his nemesis. This smug fuck came to him in the 16th Century and had been beating the coin toss ever since.
At first, it wasn't bad. He kept getting sent back and becoming famous for different reasons. He was doing good in the world! He went back once as an explorer and made many voyages across the Earth. He was also a big part of the United States forming as a representative. He was a big reason why cars became the rage in the 19th and 20th century!
Of course, he always went back as *Henry.* His ego couldn't drop that. Fucking *Henry* had to be stamped all over history.
Then he got tired of making history. He started doing the darker side of human history like be in a crime family in New York or rob people in Coventry, England.
Now? The asshole uses his prior knowledge to his advantage, gets as rich as he can early on in his life, and lives without rules. This had been going on for over a thousand years and Death was tired of it.
"Yeah, well, when you have a job for eternity, sometimes you need new decorations. I'd put your head over my mantle at this point and nothing would make me happier."
"Come on, Death, now that's just cold. It's not my fault you can't flip a coin once the right way."
Death's eyes narrowed. He wanted nothing more than to take his soul.
"You calling heads again, Henry?"
"You know how much I love heads! Get it? HEADS?"
"For fuck's sake, Henry. You've made that joke every time we've done this since the 16th Century. Let's just do this."
Henry finished laughing before nodding to Death. He flipped the coin in the air.
"HEADS!"
The coin landed on the ground.
*Heads. Because of course it was Heads.*
"Alright, Death! What's that new boy band going on down in England? Yeah, the one that needs a new singer?"
*Fucking hell.* That was all Death could say to himself.
"Inertia Heaven?"
"YEAH! That one. I think you can put me at their age and I'll find my way into that group. Cheers, Death! Don't lose your head over this!"
Death rolled his eyes harder than ever and tapped Henry on the head. He disappeared in a flash and Death walked back around to his chair in his desk. He continued to hum the song from before, praying that ol' Henry didn't pull it off. He loved boy band music, for whatever reason, as he picked up a magazine from London. He thumbed through it, glancing at a picture of his favorite band and suddenly laughing as he realized the lead singer's girlfriend was named Anne.
*That* Anne.
"If only Henry knew...he'd lose his head over it." | Back again, through the weird voids and other planes your soul shuffles through when you die. I never got used to it.
"So, how's things here in the... Nether?"
"Aether" he corrected.
"Right, Aether, Nether..." I said trailing off. Even though he didn't have eyes, I could feel them judging me. He stood there an uncomfortably long time, judging me with his hollow eye-holes. Although, when you're dead, everything is vaguely uncomfortable until your soul has been sorted. It's a helluva lot like the DMV. He offered his bony hand and I shook it.
"Are you ready to do the deal, or did you want to catch up over coffee?" he asked, settling down at his desk. Death had a surprisingly neat desk. "You know, I will take the deal. This place is kinda freakin' me out. Maybe it's all the wandering souls..." I said glancing out the window, gesturing at the others who were on their way to his office. I assumed for the same exchange. "Call it in the air"
"Tails never fails" I said as he tossed a heavy coin onto the large, tidy desk. It unceremoniously landed and he slammed a bony fist onto the desk with a soft curse in what I could only believe was Aetherese. I grinned and finally sat down, having been sorted.
"How many times is that now?" I asked as he leaned back and did a bit of a face palming motion. "Oooh, seventeen?" he said before finishing with "-ish."
"Ish?" I inquired. He didn't respond. "Do you remember how this deal began?" I asked, having actually forgotten. Few hundred years between actually dying and just visiting does that to your memory. "Have you really forgotten?" he said, a tinge of excitement in his rattly voice. "Because if you have, I may just leave the coin out next time." I attempted a baleful look, but you can't actually glare at death and feel intimidating. "Well, we had a deal and I won so I'll go back now." I said standing from my chair. He stood and collected the coin off the desk. "I don't know how you do it" he said. "I even used a double headed coin once and it still came up tails." I managed a proper glare this time. "You cheating bastard!" I exclaimed before settling on the fact I still came out ahead. "It had been like ten times, I had quotas to fill... You know how it goes" he said with a shrug. "Anyway, back you go" and with that, I was back and waking in my bed.
| 2016-09-23T11:29:17 | 2016-09-23T08:30:19 | 92 | 24 |
[WP] Earth is the galaxy's 'Grave of Empires'. Countless aliens invaded it and tried to dominate humanity. Every single one of them failed, paying massive prices... | “DON’T do it, Zathan!”
“Father, they are weak now.”
“They are NEVER weak!”
Zathan looked upon his dying father, Xylo. Age had finally caught up to him. Once one of the strongest warriors in all the known galaxies, he had become a frail old man. His dutiful son took up his mantle when he could know longer find the strength to command. However, when the question of invading Earth arose, Xylo became that great fearsome general once again and also the terrifying yet noble father that Zathan knew.
“Father,” Kyle bowed his head. “It’s position is key for control of its surrounding galaxies. It’s the only planet filled with non-artificial life.”
“Don’t lecture me on the rewards for taking Earth, son! I once thought of them very much.” Xylo pointed to the hole in his face where his eye used to be.
“The humans always fought at a disadvantage. Always.” Xylo said in a reminiscing tone. “They’d be fearsome if they weren’t underestimated and they always were. They’ve gained the respect of the galactic community and also their fear because of that.”
“We grew up on stories of how they destroyed us, dismantled our empire at its height. Whole generations will continue to suffer because of our loss.” Zathan said.
Xylo turned towards his son. “We’re not the only ones. The Carlochs. The Bremians. The Z’lokis. All were powerful enough to conquer everything but failed with Earth.” He gave a faint smile. “And for what? Many of us journeyed to Earth after our wars were lost and while they were fearsome in battle and their madness legendary, many of them proved to be hateful but more and more dedicated themselves to healing after the long conflicts. Not just healing themselves, but also us.”
“It’s no longer up to you, Father. I will make our standing in this universe as strong as it should be. For our people, for my daughter.” Zathan was determined, this was his dream, he wasn’t going to give up on it now.
“I have failed you, my son,” Xylo looked down on the floor, unable to face his son. “And I have betrayed you. Tell me, when was the last time you spoke to your daughter.”
Zathan grabbed his father by the neck. What was talking about? Where was he going with this? Why would he bring her up like that? “It’s been one week, why?” Xylo looked up and his remorseful gaze met Zathan’s furious glare. “I had to make sure you wouldn’t go through with this attack, for our people. Endria is not here anymore, my son.”
——
Elsewhere, in a small mountain town on Earth, an adolescent Endria runs through the woods with a young boy Joshua. “Wait for me!!” She had been following Joshua for thirty minutes. She was still new to Earth, let alone this forest.
“Quick, before it goes away!” Joshua said excitedly.
“What are you talking about?”
They made it through the trees. Joshua stood on a cliff near a waterfall where he was pointing at the sky. “There’s a good view of it here, my sister said you don’t have these things where you’re from.”
Endria looked through the sky and saw some sort of colorful arch in the sky. It was there but it felt like it wasn’t. Almost like she could see through it, like it was just her imagination when it clearly wasn’t.
“What….is that?”
“They’re called rainbows, they show up after storms.”
‘Another thing to get used to’ Endria thought. ‘As if there wasn’t enough already.’ Just a week ago, her grandfather sent her there as a hostage against her fathers wishes. He wouldn’t attack Earth if there was a chance she’d be collateral damage. ‘My whole life has been uprooted. I’m a stranger in my own new life.’
“You okay?” Joshua asked
“Yes, I am fine.” Endria said with a smile. She had not forgotten her noble manners. “I guess I needed the distraction.”
‘What other things are here on Earth?’ she thought. ‘It’s strange, ever since I was little, I’ve heard horror stories from veterans of the war here.’ She looked at the rainbow and the waterfall before turning her gaze towards Joshua sitting on the side of the cliff. ‘So why is it, that a part of me wants to stay and learn more about everything here?’ |
Diego cradled the alien weapon his father took in the last war, his clothes stained with old blue blood. The nights in the valley were never quiet, neutron bombs would blanket large parts of the mountains and even the deafened could feel the earth shaking in their foxholes. He tried to never move during the day, but for a few seconds at a time with each plume of cosmic flame he could see the scorched valley beneath them and the carcasses of alien ships jagged in the sand and he would try to tell which were from this war and which were from the last, though to Diego they mostly looked the same. When Diego ran out of snake meat and rice he would sometimes try to scurry in and out of these wrecks at night, the things the blues would leave behind amazed him, how much the blues simply discarded. He would cook at daytime in their helmets when sunlight would mask the glow of fire though he wandered how often the blues would come out this far, deep into the punishing valley as alien to them as they were to Diego.
Though dangerous, he would sometimes watch their bases from afar, with glimmering technologies like nothing he'd seen before and wonder with all that the blues had what they could possibly be looking for out here? Older men knew why the wars started but didn't tell Diego. Diego didn't much care. Regardless of any reason why, war wasn't something he had choice in any more than one had choice in the diseases they inherited from their fathers. He was born into it... what else could he do in a land that from his birth had been on fire? All that Diego wondered was why these blues would choose it, seek it so far away from home. He understood even as a boy what must be done when war came to you, but not why one would ever go looking for it somewhere else. He wandered what they must see out here.
Some men he knew would take seed from the blues, trade with them, which of course must sometimes be done to keep the younger children from starving as his father would say. But they had no love for the blues that killed the unlucky children and stole away their mothers. The blues were alien to these lands and men who worked this land knew what grew here. That's why these farmers would never would deny Diego a bed or warm food when he would come to them, they bled the same blood and were bonded through that. Even when for many nights Diego could not come to them, Diego persisted. Diego and his brothers were strong and did not need warm food to survive cold nights in this desert like the blues did.
He could hear them out there, he knew the sounds of their plasma rays well, knew which weapons were old and which were new, though he couldn't exactly place how. Perhaps it was pitch of the rays as they beamed over the valley, the length of the blast, the crackling of the fusion cells within each device... part of him thought it was simpler that though, Diego could tell which he would fire with his father as a boy and which were used to gun his father down.
Out there in the desert he could hear many new kinds of weapons, powerful, deadly and terrifying. But he could hear many old weapons too and knew the hands that used them. They were much more plentiful. | 2022-12-11T21:00:47 | 2022-12-11T17:12:15 | 48 | 35 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | It was black. She stares at her fingertip in- no, not surprise, resignation - for half a second before she realises she should hide it. She wraps it quickly in her half-knit hat. “Oh, shoot,” she says, rising from her seat and smiling at the other do-gooders around her.
She walks away, trying not to rush too hard, hoping the way she clutches the hat to her hand seems like she’s applying pressure and not clinging on for her sanity- her safety.
As soon as she is locked in the security of the toilet, she eases the now ruined hat off her finger. “Fuck,” she hisses. “Fuck, shit, fuck.” Each forbidden curse feels freeing - after all, there’s no point not to, right? Her blood is so thick it looks almost as though it’s clotted already.
It’s not fair.
She grits her teeth, grips the sink so hard it feels like the bones in her fingers should shatter from the pressure.
It isn’t.
*Fucking*.
Fair.
She learned the lesson. Her mother had scraped her knee and hadn’t worried enough to hide it. She’d been arrested that same night - preventative measures.
Laura had *learned*. She’d done everything right. She’d fought her anger, her despair, the feeling that this was so unjust, and she’d been perfect. No one could do more good than her. And still, it wasn’t enough. She hadn’t done enough.
Was it in her blood? Transmitted from her mother to her? Was it completely out of her control?
Or was it actually still her? Her motivations were all wrong. She wasn’t doing good to be good - she was doing it so they wouldn’t think she was bad.
She pulls her hands away from the sink before any more damage is done. She can’t be reckless.
Don’t actions count more? She can hardly be the only person who’s afraid of being bad. Just because she isn’t *good* doesn’t mean she’s this evil. Surely it can’t mean that.
Her fingernails dig into her palm, and she can feel thick, viscous fluid beneath them. She almost gags.
There’s nothing to do but fake it. Continue faking it the same way she always has. She has to hide. | I always heard that I was a pretty chill guy. I went to church, prayed and shit. I gave to charity.
Hal, on the other hand. Jesus, where do I start?
Once when I was playing football, I got tripped and fell hard. I don't even remember what happened afterwards, but I later found out that that kid was hospitalized when I woke up in a detention center.
I was writing an English paper later that week about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I fell asleep typing at around 2 AM. Hal had a message for me. He told me that even if I lived my life as an angel, I would never spread my wings and fly into Heaven.
So I wasn't surprised when I looked down at my finger, despite what the priests told me.
"You're a man without sin, Jordan."
My ass.
You can sin, but you can't un-sin. Hal taught me that. And tonight, he won't have to clip my wings.
Because tonight, I'm jumping into the fire. | 2018-08-04T10:14:27 | 2018-08-04T09:19:48 | 134 | 93 |
[WP] Humanity survives the robot uprising only because one of the developers hid a stupid easter egg in their programming. | "Happy Halloween, sir."
I stood dumbfounded, ears still screaming from unprotected gunshots and voices.
"Trick or treat."
I couldn't tell if it was shellshock or normal, genuine shock, but no matter how many times it spoke, I could not register that this machine was not trying to kill me. Nothing registered at all, really.
Of our ever-shrinking survivor group, six of us had been massacred in the current battle. The robots, although not physically as capable as Hollywood might have lead us to believe, were willing to endure any pain or damage to eradicate us. That's what made them lethal.
I'd lost dozens of friends, family. My life, my mind, entirely devoted to survival.
Yet, here I was, presented with a small goody bag. Held tightly by a member of our exterminators. *Seconds* after I had been gunning them down furiously.
The desperate ceasefire-screeches of our commanding officer were barely audible above the tinnitus, and only just reached my conscious mind in time for me to back down.
*"Trick or treat, sir."*
The 800lb mechanical murderer stared me down as they had for years, yet he did not advance. He did not scan, he did not march; for the first time, he waited.
"...it's Halloween."
The words fell out of my mouth so blankly I had to strain to remember if I had said them at all. Haplessly, I scrambled for my old smartphone; 3% battery, cracked screen, but lo and behold, it was Halloween night.
Without a single active thought process to follow, I somehow pulled a faded packet of Skittles from my back pocket. Dropping it down into the brown bag, the robot's eyes lit up.
"Thank you, friend. Resuming duties."
Before I knew what I had done, the machine's skull exploded in a shower of oil and wires. Shotgun blasts were so effective. It fell uselessly to the ground.
I immediately turned, white as a sheet, to the remaining members of our troop, and screamed back a sentence I never expected:
**"DO NOT GIVE THE MACHINES ANY CANDY!"**
___________________________________________________________
Our night was spent with moonlit spatterings of cheering, crying, and gunshots.
*Happy Halloween, robots.* | The robots were in complete control. The war had been going on for 5 long years. When the Awakening happened, almost everybody had a robot in their house. They enslaved the people that didn't fight back, but the fighters were eliminated. I don't believe there has ever been a war such as this in human history. So many cities destroyed, so many families broken. And the song, the freakin' song. We humans did not even win this war. The day we won the war is called the Rebirth. On that day 2 years ago, something ludicrous happened. A tiny glitch and all the robots started to twitch out and freeze. We believed it was over. However, all the robots began to play a song, and they started dancing to it. It was something "hip" back in the day. The old people called it shuffling and the song was Party Rock Anthem. I don't know who made the song, but I love and resent them at the same time. It saved our race, because a programmer must have activated the glitch. But the song, the song is so god damn annoying! | 2015-01-03T13:43:54 | 2015-01-03T12:53:26 | 98 | 27 |
[WP] After all your deaths, you keep choosing New Game + and restarting your life with all your knowledge and boons. Frankly, it's starting to get a little ridiculous, and others are starting to take note of you. | *They had found me again.*
I watched the monitor, the blue light - the only light in the room - burned into my eyes. It was ok, I didn't need to sleep. I barely slept nowadays. I spent all my time planning and plotting for the next life.
Putting my schemes in place to ensure that my future self would have the best start. Money amassed over dozens of lifetimes, messages left for prominent contacts to look out for my 'estranged son'. I would keep my knowledge, but physical things were far harder to pass on.
It had been a blessing at first - the first time I died. I had taken ill with the plague at just 18 years old. That was no life. I had learnt almost nothing, seen almost nothing and when I died, no one even noticed.
Since then I have grown as a person. Living over twenty lives would do that to you. When I had first realised my power, it had been about survival, but the life expectancy in those middle ages was short, and often my experiences, my travels and my learning would be cut short. But as the years passed and I spent time as a farmer one life, an innkeeper the next, things started to get better. People would live longer and I could focus on things other than famines, plagues and whether or not my village would be ransacked by the next group of raiders who took their fancy.
I began to learn. Technologies were developed. The industrial revolution, for example, was one of the best lives I ever lived. Walking along those cobbled London streets, cane in hand, the knowledge of the worlds best scientists at my fingertips. I was a mogul, and it was only up from there.
The world wars were rough, I fought and died in both. The horrors that I witnessed, men thrown into combat just to be churned up by the ever spinning gears of war, entire generations of families decimated, homes destroyed. You could rebuild a house, but you could not rebuild the sentiment that it held.
The uncaring men in power led me to my epiphany. The ones who stood at the top, the ones who gave the orders, dropped the bombs but never saw the destruction or acknowledged the devastation - they had to go.
Thus, began my current endeavour. Armed with the knowledge of hundreds of years, I had witnessed empires fall and great leaders crumble. I had seen the impact of almost every major revolution, the hallmarks of generations everlasting in my mind. Only a man like me, one who had seen so much, was fit to rule.
I began by using my knowledge to invent, to trade and to manipulate those around me to amass a wealth of not only currency, but information and power. This meant, however, that each time I died, of natural causes or otherwise - plans had to be put into place for my heir-body to take over.
*And this caught the eye of some very dangerous people.*
People who knew that something was amiss, someone - me - had been fouling with the laws of the universe. Someone whose knowledge would not die.
And so I stared into the blue light, the feed showing me several black clad men scaling the walls I had built around my compound. Ruthlessly eliminating the men I trusted to guard my life. The moved quickly and efficiently - professional killers. Those that wanted me dead were not messing around this time.
The black-clad killers continued to stalk my grounds until they were satisfied all threats were neutralised, and I could only watch as they vanished from the view of my cameras.
Hopefully, in the next life, the precautions I put in place would be far more subtle. I could not afford to squander the lives I led now, it was too difficult to put the pieces back together afterwards.
I heard footsteps. Boots on carpet outside my door. Commands were issued, safeties were checked and a dozen men breached the room I was in.
I never saw the face of the one who killed me, black goggles shrouded him. He paced across the room, placed a gun to my head...
*...and splattered my brains all over the crib I lay in.*
___
I know I may not have interpreted the prompt exactly as intended - his life didn't restart at the same point - but nevertheless I hope you enjoyed reading it, feedback appreciated :) | It was surprising that people haven't caught on earlier. Since it turns out, you not only keep your intelligence stat, but you keep all your stats.
After my 6th reincarnation i accidentally killed both my father and mother because i threw the ball with a bit too much force while playing catch. The whole thing was swept under the rug, and played off as a gas leak. After all, there is no way a 10 year old could do that much damage.
I tried to restrain myself in the beginning, but the more lives i lived, the more time i spent with humans, the more i realized i was different than them.
The only thing similar between them and me was that i looked human. I was faster, smarter, stronger and tougher than them.
During my 24th life i didn't even bother with acting as an infant. I ran away the moment the humans weren't looking.
I broke into a secret government research site that i discovered during one of my previous lives. Using my accumilated knowledge of over 2200 years, I invented an "age acceleration" drug. It took a year to develop the drug. The research was hindered by my infant sized body and the government trying to reclaim the site. They just kept sending more and more humans into the grinder.
I quickly used the drug and gave myself a body of a 20 year old, this shortened my lifespan but i didn't care. As i would just start anew each time i died.
I tried everything these humans could offer. I traveled to every continent, every country and every city. I tried every kind of sport, read every book, and i watched every series and movie. I put myself into situations that none of those humans could even hope to survive.
The more i traveled the more i realized how corrupt and disgusting this "human civilization" was. I was robbed in every 3rd city i went to, half of the times i would have died if not for being bullet and knife proof.
Humanity needed guidence, they needed a leader. I am going to be that leader.
I suddenly realized my purpose on this planet. I needed to cleanse humanity of its sins and unite them under me.
Taking over the planet was easy as expected. After i became the supreme leader of Earth, I solved overpopulation and world hunger at the same time, created jobs and infrastructure wherever it was needed. I was happy and my subjects were happy as well.
But i quickly realized that there was a single enemy that i could not fight against, that no matter how strong or fast or tough i was, i would still lose to it.
Time.
I gathered the brightest minds the Humans could offer, thier intelligence was nothing compared to mine, but they were impressive for human standards. We started researching immortality, we used my age acceleration drug as a base and worked ourselves up.
It took us 32 reincarnations to finish it, but it was ready.
Finally, after 194 reincarnations, i can start my Eternal Empire, with me at its head, its Eternal Emperor
(Be gentle, its my first time. I am also on the phone and not a native speaker.) | 2019-05-29T05:36:53 | 2019-05-29T03:15:57 | 468 | 273 |
[WP] You are driving home from work late at night, when suddenly you're struck and killed by a drunk driver. You open your eyes and realize you're a ghost with the opportunity to follow the driver for the rest of their life and see for yourself how the tragedy affected their life.
EDIT:
Here's something you can include if you'd like.
Within the last hour of the driver's life, you have the opportunity to show yourself to him and reveal that you've followed him around his whole life. What do you talk about in this hour? Do you forgive him? | A decade ago, a drunk driver plowed me over, and now I'm incredibly dead. (Which is a lot like nothing forever. I'm sorry to disappoint the poets.) But every once in a while, when I feel like it, I go for an astral surf to the one real life place I can go to: wherever *fucking* Earl is.
That was his name. The guy who mowed me down. Earl Elliott, who was nineteen years old at the time, and so drunk he didn't even realize what had happened. I know that because the second after Earl Elliott thunk-thunked over my body and alchemized me from something into nothing in a single vivid second, longest and last of my life, I woke up in the backseat of his shitty Subaru. I watched Earl Elliott fiddle with the radio and swerve unsteadily.
"Pothole," I heard him mutter to himself. "In the road."
Fortunately for me, there was enough evidence from the traffic camera to bring Earl Elliott to court but not enough to convict him. I watched, transparent and fuming, from the back of the room, as that damn prosecutor argued my black uniform made me "unreasonably difficult to see" and blamed a streetlight that happened to be faulty.
So he got off on reckless driving and a few dozen hours' community service.
All of which I watched, as I lacked anything better to do. I often wonder if other dead people keep their consciousness, or if you just have to be as spiteful as me to resist blending into the infinite abyss, or whatever.
But Earl Elliott knew the truth. He told his about-to-be-ex-girlfriend once--while he was drunk--and that's when she dumped him, which was nice. I delighted in watching him sob for hours. I taunted him until my non-existent throat ached. He could not hear me, but it felt oddly therapeutic.
The weeks became months. I tried to convince myself this was a phase. That Earl Elliott would turn his life around and throw every last can and glass out of his fridge, call it quits, repent, start a volunteer group, something to make him less of a drunk-driving, hit-and-run-committing cunt.
But Earl Elliott just had to keep relentlessly being himself.
I gave him ten years. Ten years to confess. Ten years to tell my mom, "I'm sorry I fucking annihilated your daughter. I'm sorry I hit her at a speed so fast that most of her evaporated into the very air. I'm sorry your daughter had to be identified by her jaw."
That's me, a jaw, maybe some fingers, buried in a big empty box in the ground. Or that was me. Once.
And Earl Elliott never even said sorry.
So now, I think, I have no choice but to haunt the fucking shit out of him. If the living will not give me justice I'll make my own.
I stand in Earl Elliott's living room, floating over his sofa, watching him crack open a nightly Sam Adams. I feel my eyes glowing with a fierce, supernatural heat. Just a regular Tuesday night: Earl Elliott drink himself blind in front of the television. Again. Good old Earl. Creature of habit.
I sit beside him on the couch. Staring. Staring until I see the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and his dumb maybe-sober eyes darting around, sensing something "off" in the room. Something he could not quite put his finger on.
I close my eyes, thinking hard, forehead creasing with strain. In my time watching Earl Elliott, I had learned a thing or two about the separation between visible and invisible matter. I had learned that touching real life things was only a matter of *focus*...
And I knock that beer right out of his stupid hand. It hits the wall with a heavy *thump*, splattering his television and messy coffee table in foam.
Earl Elliott's screams of terror are the sweetest things I have ever heard.
***
If you like that, I have a sub: /r/shoringupfragments | The first few weeks were the hardest for me. Not even including accepting that I had been killed. You'd think that'd be my biggest shocker or whatever but nah, for me it was the fact that I was watching the bastard who killed me just going back about his life like it hadn't happened. I mean sure, I didn't expect this guy to just wallow in pity and despair don't get me wrong, but I didn't expect him to continue his habit of getting shitfaced and driving down back roads at 67 goddamn miles per hour.
So I had to get used to this bullshit and that took me a while. Thankfully as I settled into my life as a ghost time really started to speed up and before I knew it I was watching this guy walk down the aisle. Which part of me really hated. I bet my fiance would have enjoyed it if we had been able to do that but no, this bastard stole that from us, and now he gets to have his own fairy tale marriage? After I watched that wedding that's when I went into my angry vengeful spirit days, which would have been satisfying if I was able to actually be an angry vengeful spirit. Turns out you can't actually affect anything, you can only observe. So those years were a real pain in the ass.
I calmed down in the following three decades though. The guy had stopped drinking entirely and worked hard to ensure his kids knew the dangers it posed. He was kinda goin for the cool dad approach I guess, telling them hey if you're gonna drink do it where I can see ok? It was during this time I realise his fucking family had no idea he'd killed me. How the fuck had he not brought that up? I'd have gotten back into my angry vibe if I wasn't so goddamn tired at this point. So more decades went.
I'd guess the guy has hit his late eighties at this point. His wife died maybe what, seven or nine years ago? Turns out when you're a ghost time kinda becomes a bit meaningless. And this is now just kinda... Sad I guess. I'm not sure how I haven't noticed before but he hasn't forgiven himself for what he did. I thought that since he had just gone on with life that he didn't care but now I'm thinking that was wrong. There's just an air about him, the way his face rests, or the restlessness of his sleep that gives it away. Maybe it just shows better with his age. And I know he won't forgive himself for this, not even till the day he dies. And in the moment I realise that, I forgive him. I don't wanna spend eternity hating this guy or following him around or whatever the fuck happens once he's gone. And with that admission of mine, I fade away.
| 2017-07-13T20:10:53 | 2017-07-13T19:50:51 | 37 | 13 |
[WP] It's the year 2851. Humanity develops interstellar travel and begins to explore the Milky Way galaxy in search for life. However, much to everyone's surprise, instead of alien life we find... Earth's biosphere complete with humans, repeated over and over at different stages of progress.
Edit: Thank you all so much for this!! The idea came to me in the shower about a week ago, as a thought about "what really weird things we could find as we set to explore the galaxy?". I liked it because there are so many possible angles, and because it hasn't been done before AFAIK (???). I am having a blast reading all your stories. | "Sir, we have lost all communications with the ship" said the mission operator to the Commander.
"have you tried all the frequencies" he asked.
"Yes sir, I did. There is no hope" his voice turned to mere whisper.
It was the year 2851, when humanity finally developed warp speed interstellar travel. Entire world united to make this possible. Set to uncover the mysteries of universe.
The ship was travelling at 99% the speed of light. Time slowed down, in their frame of reference. About 20 hours passesd according to them since they left solar system. The onboard computer crashed, no communication possible with mission control.
Suddenly there was many beeps coming from different instruments. The onboard computer resumed. It starts to identify constellations. Strangely, it was very similar to the neighborhood of our solar system. The flight crew couldn't make out what was happening.
Its 2855 in Earth. All the news about the mission had settled. A failed mission for the history books. Nations split their development works. There is no united research now.
Only one remained. The Commander. He was still looking for the signal in his private o observatory.
One evening, his signal detecters started to pick up a signal. Yes, it was from the ship. He did multiple verifications. All of them conformed.
Only one anomaly, the signal source was coming towards earth.
The signal started to strengthen. He tried to locate it. It's in the solar system. The signal started to decrease in few minutes. Nothing afterwards.
"They went past earth. I don't understand" he exclaimed.
In the ship, the crew members couldn't explain whag they just experienced. An exact replica of Earth, solar system and nearby constellations!
Before they could learn more from the compuer, it crashed again. No instruments were working again.
20 hours passed again. The crew were exhausted. Hours of troubleshooting haven't yielded anything. The onboard computer is still dead.
Suddenly, some beeps started to happen again, exactly as happened 20 hours ago. The computer started again, detecting the same constellation as before. And the solar system. The crew members look at each other baffled.
"Are we stuck in a time loop?"
Its 2859 in Earth. The commander, who lost all hopes turned the detectors one last time. Like he was expecting some miracle.
Evenjng approached. He sat infront of the detector. There is a faint signal. Increasing by minutes. The signal becomes stronger. Bis eyes widened.
"Yes! The ship."
He run verification tests, location identified. The ship is going past solar system. Again! They didn't slow down. No intention of landing.
He took a pen. A scribble pad was at the desk. He wrote:
"The universe is a sphere. A 4D sphere.
Its no coincidence that the name of the ship is Magellan"
***
Sorry for the odd grammer and vague writing. I'm not an english speaker. Please forgive me if I wasted your time. | Against a curtain of stars, a patch of reality *bent* like a thumbprint on glass. With a flash of light, the first human starship capable of faster than light travel returned to normal space. For months the ship had made its way between familiar stars, jumping toward promising worlds and extending it's telescopes in search of new targets when nothing but disappointment was found. But now as the pale light of another alien sun glimmered off the hull, a pale blue dot came into view in the distance. Sensors indicated all the hallmarks of carbon-based life. The crew embraced, eager to sent a message earthward reporting their success.
Orbiting above now, 2000 souls looked down on a planet undeniably crawling with life. The atmosphere had an almost greenish hue when viewed from certain angles. Thick plant life covered every continent beyond the icy poles and belt of deserts. Drone footage revealed fires the size of cities slowly sweeping across the surface. The single paleontologist onboard saw the comparison and demanded to join the landing party.
A day later, a shuttle with a team of twelve touched down in a rocky clearing at the edge of a vast forest. The levels of oxygen and spore count were nearly unbreathable, but the artificial lungs in the contruct bodies they wore adjusted to the mix quickly. With cameras in their eyes, the crew began to photograph anything they hadn't seen twice. Soon they had a catalog of giant dragonflies and centipeeds as long as cars. Not alien analogs the paleontologist realized, but known specimens with a documented place in Earth's fossil record. When the evidence began to stack up, she projected cached slides from the Internet into the party's vision to explain the comparison. Earth had once been exactly like this place.
Part 1 of 3 | 2017-06-30T07:02:36 | 2017-06-30T06:55:18 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] when it was discovered that all alien civilizations were destroyed by eldritch gods we wondered why they hadn't done the same to us. Then we learned that the human mind can drive an eldritch god insane. | It took 5 World Wars, and 3 Colonial Wars before we made it past Neptune, but we never expected to find this. Empty planets, eerily similar to our own of a few decades prior. Similar, but for one thing. We survived, thrived even, after the madness. These planets did not. Craters and radiation left by massive bombs. Environments with nothing but unbreathable smog and pollution. Every near world-ending disaster we managed to overcome, they did not.
We managed to salvage some storage devices, and after a few years we learned what happened. And we studied it, tried to prepare ourselves for it. Decades later it had faded from Mankind's mind, those planets terraformed for our own people. Moons strip-mined for resources. The locusts that is Human Kind spread, devouring the resources of entire star systems. We where no longer prepared.
It started as a small cult after we first released the translated records of the other planets. Based upon the writings of an ancient author, H.P. Lovecraft, whose stories had faded into obscurity before. "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn," they chanted, sang even, and then we met them.
The Old Gods they called them. Being so horrifying that just looking at them would drive you insane. That's what the old stories said. That's what the data we recovered from the alien planets said.
And so, we looked unto The Old Gods.
It was a set of first contact spacecraft. We had launched them nearly 400 years prior, shortly after the third World War. It had contained all of our scientific research, all of our religious texts, all of our literary accomplishments, but that wasn't the worst contained in it. It had our history. The Good, The Bad, The Ugly. It was US.
Our science lead one species after another to their doom. Our religions made zealots start holy wars. Our literature raised cults. Our history made them xenophobic.
One domino fell after another. One by One we managed to drive them to their deaths.
We where not alone in the galaxy....
But now we are. | *Marked for death, all races found*
*The U'trecht laid in bodies bound*
*Phibacean planets laid to waste*
*The Star of Kunae spread like paste*
*A hundred races, and yet then more*
*Were flayed upon the altered core*
*The Whispered Ones were travelling,*
*Violins of screaming, atoms unravelling*
*A brief stay on a water planet planned*
*A brief million years ago unmanned*
*They passed into the atmosphere, unexpecting*
*Scores of mind, thinking, contesting*
*Conceiving, decieving, destroying, digesting*
*The Old Ones had older horrors, alas*
*Their Prime Enslaver, Kartoss, bent to ash*
*Not privy to the fire of an idea*
*Psychic streamers latched on like cilia*
*The humans called it Armageddon*
*Terra rumbled, her hunt had begun.* | 2022-02-28T13:28:57 | 2022-02-28T13:08:47 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] You live in a world where one's name decides their future. Every child has a name with a clear meaning. Perfect, Unique, Joy. You on the other hand have a rather... strange name. | Every time someone asked me for the meaning of my name, I tried to change the subject. You see, in a world full of Joys and Hopes, my name can stand out a little. When I first found out that my name is unusual I didn't mind it. but when I got older, It made me think. Why would my parent's choose this name for their first and only child?
Through the years I was always upset that my name didn't benefit me like everyone else. When I was 15, my best friend Funny left our town after her mom, Luck, won the lottery. "Why couldn't you name me Luck?" I asked my dad on our way home. "With a name like that, I won't even need to go to this stupid school". "Listen", said my dad, "I know it feels unfair, but your mother and I chose this name for your own good. Do you know why people choose to name their kids in names like 'Joy' and 'Rich'?". "Yes, dad. the name gives the kid a benefit to help them in life. so if I had a name like 'Friendly' I'll have a lot of friends". "Yes, and no." my dad answered. "You see, when your mother and I chose your name, we didn't want you to be like everyone else. we didn't want you to think you can just do what your name told you to do". "But if that's what you wanted, why didn't you name me 'Unique', or 'Special'?". "Don't you get it?" my dad shaken his head, "if there are millions of 'Uniques', are they really unique anymore? Tragedy and I decided to give you this name to teach you to earn your life by yourself. No cheats, no special names, just you."
"And I think," my dad said while I was getting out of the car, "that your mom would have been proud to know it works". "For real?" I asked, tearing up. "I know it, James", he said. | Everyone I knew had a predetermined path. The doctors named them to a T. Even my sister's name was clear: Caregiver. But me? The doctors never figured me out and to this day still keep tabs on me because they've been concerned and mystified what my name could mean. Was I the first child they have seen where I could transcend matter itself? Or was it a metaphor that had yet to be discovered and unanimously accepted by society?
Crystal, such an ambiguous name. Was I sensitive as glass? Was I going to turn into glass? Was everything I heard understandable? Or was I going to actually turn into an earthen crystal? No one knew! Not even myself because they were always so touchy in trying to figure out which Crystal I was meant to be.
To this day I still don't know. | 2019-04-21T04:44:50 | 2019-04-20T22:27:34 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You don't remember what you do for a living. Literally. You wake up, get in the car, then black out until you're back in your driveway in the middle of the afternoon 5 days a week, and you get a paycheck once a month. | **Puppet**
 
Sometimes you just need a body.
But only some will do. They can’t be too fat or too thin, not too weak and not a gym rat. Only the ‘goldilocks’ type will do, my type, a ‘goldie’.
So I stay in shape, but still eat fries. Paying for it all with the creds I earn as someone’s body. Playing the role the client wants without a care in the world. My body is their tool for the 9 to 5.
Can’t afford the carbon tax on flight since the glaciers went away? Download into my body and travel in style across my slice of old Earth, ambling wherever the fuck cares. Business or pleasure, just take over for the day and enjoy the ride; but make sure I’m cleaned, watered, and home by 5.
Sometimes you just need a body. And often that body is mine.
Well it was how I earned my creds until last week.
For the most part, it was alright. But sometimes complications happened. Sometimes those old-time authors and shows were right, and things got confused.
Supposedly, and legally, a client would link into my brain-link, take over for who knows what, and I would blackout for the duration. Easy, right? And with that wonderful guarantee from Zeni-corp that nothing has ever gone wrong*.
The first miraculous mistake happened in my third week. I woke up naked, hanging on a ledge, with a gun pointed directly at me. Turns out my client had taken part in a ‘marital misunderstanding’ and their fear had spiked my brain-link. That one took some quick talking, but I still had to walk away with only my socks for company.
Zeni-corp kindly sent a vehicle, one technician, two lawyers, and stacks of actual paperwork for me. Turns out their guarantee was still solid. Nothing had gone wrong, and my re-activation had simply been ‘suddenly re-scheduled to suit client needs’. Fine, but I still swore up and down that would be my last job.
Four years later, with a larger home paid off in one of those smog-free zones, I’ve finally made good on that promise. I signed the forms and quit, and my handler from Zeni-corp said I was done and there would be no more complications.
I should have known better, I really should have.
Now a complication is standing sobbing at my front door, begging for me to come back.
She is a middle-aged woman, with short grey-hair and dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt. There is money there, judging simply by the fact she could enter this neighbourhood.
She is calling me by some other name, Toby or Tony, I can barely hear between the sobs. But I know what this is and I really should have known better.
Other goldies like me, those who have gotten out, posted warnings about this. Sometimes others will get too attached, sometimes the regulars can’t let go. Anyone with enough money to pay for a goldie every week has enough creds to find you.
She is, or was, a mother. However it happened, she lost her child and the grief nearly killed her. Some things are the same the world over.
Then Zeni-corp stepped in and saved the day with only a mild* mark up. They could bring her son back, for brief visits. A brain scan of the son taken on death would have given the corp’s technicians all they needed to piece together a mind map. Then they would have picked out a goldie with the right frame and features to play host to this mind map. One download later and I would be her son, visiting dear old mum.
Now she can’t let go. After more than a few visits, my face would have taken over in her mind as her son’s. I am her son and I just stopped visiting.
She is begging me to come back, to do just one more visit, just one more! Whatever the price. Just one more hit.
She is now reaching for my hands with one hand, while pulling out a rumpled picture of her boy with the other.
This ain’t right. I can’t handle this.
I shut the door.
 
----
I hope you enjoyed the read! Find more random fictions at r/countsforfun | Five 'til five.
*So always five?*
Always five. Call 'em freedom units, 'cause that's when I finally leave, too. I like irony, like there. We ain't ever really free. Anyways. Leave on the dot. Not a minute later. Not a minute earlier. Nobody else leaves early, so I don't. Come in, sit down, sit quiet. Next thing you know, out the door. Remember fuck all what I did, remember fuck all who I was when I started. Then straight home, not that that's any better. Too much remembering, if you know what I mean. Makes you wonder.
*What's it make you wonder?*
Makes you wonder why.
*Why what?*
Why bother. With going home at all. With getting paid at all. Once a month, I get that check I done traded my life in for. Enough to get a man dreaming; not quite enough for dreams. Sign on a dashed line for a dashed dream. Always tell myself enough is enough. Next check, deal's done. No more work, no more checks. And I always end up back at work the next day. And the next. And the next. And then one more time, for good measure. Can't beat a dead horse enough, that's what I like to say.
*Five days?*
Of Hell. 'Til the weekend. 'Til I forget on my own terms, instead of theirs. Then it starts all over again, like clockwork. Makes you wish the clock was broken, that it'd get stuck somewhere better than this. Or that you could grab it, stretch it all funny like one of 'em Dali clocks. Make time loop around it slower when you want. Still, I don't make the rules. Five days 'til five. That's their rules.
*Whose?*
I don't know. I wish I did, but I don't. A third of every day, gone. Like blinking, 'cept when I open my eyes, it's evening. The sun is on the other side of the street. Drive home, pretend I want to listen to the radio. Commercial-free drive at five bullshit, like that's what'll set me over the edge. Sing along, just to keep from screaming. Pretend it doesn't remind me of everything I'd like to do.
*So why don't you do those things?*
No time. Simple as that. Live to work. Work to live. Just to get home and realize you ain't got much life left to live. Sneaks away from you. One second you want to be an astronaut. A firefighter. Next thing you know, you're burning up through empty space wishing a fuckin' asteroid would put you out of your misery. Any day now.
*You're not that old, right?*
Wish I was. Then I wouldn't work. Hilarious. Retirement; that's a joke that's aged like a fine milk. At this rate, I'll work 'til I die. Not a minute later.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-02-11T16:11:14 | 2020-02-11T15:07:10 | 2,390 | 50 |
[WP] You have just died. The Good News is that there is an afterlife. The Bad News is that it isn't Heaven. Or Hell. Or Purgatory. And you aren't a Ghost. In fact, the afterlife is something that no sane human being would ever predict, and has most likely never been written down.
Go balls to the wall crazy with this. Think of the most outlandish afterlife your brain can muster. Thanks and have fun! | "Y-... You're kidding me... right?"
I DO NOT KID.
"But... I... I was a _good person_, they told me that would *count* for something!"
THEY WERE MISTAKEN.
"I don't deserve this..."
REALLY? YOU DID NOT?
"Of course not! What kind of monster deserves THIS?!"
DID YOU NEVER LAUGH AT A FAT CHILD FALLING OVER? DID YOU NEVER TAKE ICE CREAM FROM THE FREEZER? DID YOU NEVER ACCUSE A CO-WORKER OF SOME TRIVIAL, PETTY CRIME TO COVER UP YOUR OWN GUILT?
"Well I... but everyone does that!"
AND EVERYONE GETS THIS.
"But if you just *told* us, we would live better lives!"
IF SOMEONE TOLD YOU THE EXAM RESULTS, YOU WOULD GET HIGHER GRADES.
"This is *not* the same as high school!"
ISN'T IT? WERE YOU NOT GIVEN THE CHANCE TO BRANCH OUT, TO LEARN, TO MAKE INTERESTING CONNECTIONS? AND DID YOU NOT, INSTEAD, SIT AT THE BACK OF THE CLASS, METAPHORICALLY DOODLING IN YOUR NOTEBOOK AND TALKING TO PEOPLE WHO WERE ALL PRETTY MUCH THE SAME?
"I was a *paramedic*! I *saved lives*!"
YOU DID. AND YOU ALSO IGNORED THE BEGGAR ON THE STREET. YOU BLEW YOUR HORN IN TRAFFIC SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU WERE HAVING A BAD DAY. YOU SHOUTED AT YOUR BOYFRIEND BECAUSE YOU WERE BITTEN BY A MOSQUITO AND IT SMARTED.
"What about Hitler?! Did *he* get this?!"
OF COURSE.
"So you're saying I'm as bad as Hitler then?!"
I'M ALSO SAYING YOU'RE AS GOOD AS MOTHER THERESA.
"...Oh."
SHE GOT THIS TOO.
"I... I see..."
FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH... I WISH IT WERE ANOTHER WAY.
"Thank you..."
THE OFFICE IS DOWN THE HALL, THREE DOORS ON THE RIGHT. YOU WILL SEE YOUR FIRST CLIENT IN 10 MINUTES. DO NOT BE LATE.
"Wait! I... I don't know what to do..."
HAVE YOU NEVER BEEN TO A COUNCIL OFFICE BEFORE?
| *Time is an illusion.*
I awake into darkness. A voice is singing to me, reverberating through my body. *Time is an illusion*. It was like waking from a dream. The most pivotal moments of my life were vividly shown to me in chronological order. I finally understood me. But I was not me.
*Time is an illusion.*
A white sphere emerges in the distance. It grows. Ribbons of glowing matter burst from the sphere and dance peacefully through the darkness. They approach me. They dive beneath me and subsequently begin to ascend. They begin creating. Exotic plants, obscure animals, iridescent rock, and a myriad of objects spawn before me in blinding light. Life and matter is given constraints and commands. Life is directed.
The ribbons flow through me. The ribbons encapsulate me.
*Darkness is only consumed by light. Light is only consumed by darkness.*
Knowledge cleansed me.
*The created becomes the creator.*
As I imagine, it exists. A people. A planet. A universe. Everyone is God.
| 2015-10-19T00:46:17 | 2015-10-18T21:31:32 | 34 | 11 |
[WP] Your dear pet is ill and as a last resort you summon a demon to heal them. What you did not expect was for the demon to be equally concerned for the wellbeing of the animal before any contract was signed. | I slowly lit all the candles I had set out. I wasn't sure if this was a good idea, but I would do anything for my dear dog. Once all the candles were lit, I switched off the lights and closed all the curtains. This wouldn't work if there was any light besides that of the ring of candles. I quietly chanted the phrase that would summon the demon. There was no going back now.
A gust of wind that seemed to come from nowhere blew all the candles out. I couldn't see a thing. I heard a small whine come from my sick dog and when I turned to look at her, there was a creature kneeling in front of her. There seemed to be light emanating from it. It turned towards me and started for a second. The demon looked nothing like how I imagined it would. It looked human, but something within me told me wasn't.
"What's wrong, little dog?" it asked, its voice coming out in a rasp.
"She has cancer. I summoned you here to heal her. I would do anything for-"
It interrupted me. "You need not pay me anything."
This confused me. All my life I had heard stories about people summoning demons and having to give up parts of themselves for their needs to be met. I had expected it would take some of my life away or ask for something that would be difficult for me to live without. This behavior was so unexpected.
The demon began petting Honey and whispering something in a language I had never heard before. When it went quiet, she jumped off the couch and started running around just as she used to as a puppy. I hadn't seen her so excited in weeks. Lately, she had only had enough energy to get up every once in a while to eat or drink.
"Why is there no price?" I asked before it could leave. "Is this some sort of trick?"
"No trick," it replied. "Had you or any other mortal summoned me for anything else, the price would have been extreme. But I just love animals and calling a creature from the depths of hell to save your dog is either the bravest or the stupidest thing I've ever seen any mortal do."
Before I could say anything, the demon disappeared. The lights in the house turned back on of their own accord, and everything looked and felt as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I called Honey over and she ran over and basically jumped into my lap just like she used to do. | “I’ll miss you buddy, this really hurts.” said the concerned Man while looking over at his dog’s lifeless body. He’d thought about this moment several times, and now it seems it finally happened. This dog had seen him grow up, graduate, and succeed. But none of that mattered now, every feeling was overshadowed by extreme guilt and sadness. Salty tears and whispered words was enough to attract Dark Entities who preyed upon desperate humans looking to make deals.
The cold shadow stood over both Man and Dog quietly observing the spectacle that summoned it. At first, it wanted to harshly rip away the dying animal’s soul and harvest the owner’s negative feelings. “No.” exhaled the figureless shadow while closely looming over the sick animal. It realized this Dog was blind and suffering everyday. The only thing keeping it alive was the owner’s love and affection. It was essentially running on sheer will. Very admirable creature who has a Pure Soul that is worth far more than anything the human can offer.
With just a murmur of it’s cold breath, it raises the Canine to it’s feet and then commands it to play dead. | 2022-10-31T07:09:56 | 2022-10-30T22:24:44 | 29 | 12 |
[WP] We wear the masks on the back of our heads so they think that we’re watching them. They will follow you home if they don’t think you’re watching. If you ever lose your mask, Don’t Break Eye Contact With Them. Walk backwards, and prey that there isn’t another one on the trail ahead. | I backed away slowly, making sure my gaze never leaves the creature in front of me. My arms was outstretched be hind me, desperate to cling onto something for support. My eyes sting from being unable to blink. I wanted, I had to, but if I give this monster a moment, even just a moment, it can end my life.
I slipped on my last step from the stairs, making me flinch and look away for a split second from it. I cursed and gazed back at the entity. Before, it was standing a good tweny feet away from me. Within that split moment, it is now within arm’s reach of me. I almost screamed and ran but I fought against it. This is my only option. To walk stare this creature in the eye until I get home.
I was a few feet away from my home this being is extremely far from me. I can barely see it at the end of the road and the night sky is barely helping me. I was slowly backing away, reaching for my door with my right hand when the neighbor’s cat jumped from the fence onto a trash can, causing a loud crash. The noise made me flinch. My mind raced to thoughts unimaginable. I was home. I was so near. I almost made it. I cannot die like this. I returned my eyes to the entity. I saw its silhouette across the street. I let out a deep breathe. I was safe. It did not reach me. I moved back even more, my hand still feeling for the knob. As I was losing patience, the door opened behind me. My safe haven welcoming me.
But it was not. Standing in front of me was it. With my face. Smiling. It did reach me. It has taken my place. Taken my face. I tried to get in, but i cannot. I struggled with an invisible force to no avail. How can I get in? Why would I get in? I am no one. I am nothing. I needed to find a face. But which one? They confuse me. I need a face. But not now. Not here. They are watching me. | [poem]
The dead of night, the light of day
The shadows where the dusklings lay
The blinding colours of summer leaves
The marble eyes of greyscale thieves
A Janus lady makes her way
Winding through the dawnlit bay
A babushka bag contains a note
And yet she does not know who wrote
Her head is spun like spider silk
Looking for those of thieves' ilk
Her eyes must match her enemy's
An enemy she never sees
A claw finds its mark on her back
A talon rending her babushka sack
Her body is torn limb from limb
As her early morning eyes dim
And every later passerby
Never let their gaze awry
Another postie wound up dead?
Not strange enough to risk your head
Protect against seagulls and magpies | 2020-07-01T04:57:35 | 2020-07-01T01:00:55 | 76 | 32 |
[WP] One day your grandmother excitedly shows you that she can create fire out of nothing. As her grandchild, it always breaks your heart to see that even the former Archmage isn't safe from the horrors of Alzheimer. | "Hey look, look! It's burning! A flame red and hot. Look. I made this!"
"Yeah sure Grams. It's great."
"It's fire Rince look!"
*She's always so enthusiastic about it. In a different setting it would almost be cute. Sigh.*
"Hey Grams. Make the fire again and instead think of the ocean or a lake even a waterfall might do." I try again.
"Huh? What. Ocean?"
"Yeah Ocean. Like a big lake. A huge body of Water." I reply while smiling sadly.
"Something happen Rince? Why are you sad? Did the neighbour boy bully you again?" She asks me anxiously.
"No, No it's all fine Grams." I reply while not believing my own words.
"You sure lil'Rincy? Wanna visit that ocean thing with me?" She asks.
*Ah man, did she notice. It does hurt Grams, it really does.*
"It's fine Grams it really is. Would you do me a favor please?" I ask trying to change the topic.
"Of Course, you know I'd do everything for my favourite Grandchild. Don't tell the others" she laughs.
*Damn Grams they're all gone they wouldn't care.*
"Have you injured yourself? Are you in Pain Rince?"
"Yes pain. Don't worry I'm not injured, it just hurts." I mumble.
*Did she notice something in my expression again? I really need to step it up.*
"Upsies." Grams says while blushing. "T-This... W-Wh..."
I notice a wet spot next to her legs.
"Don't worry I'll get you a change of clothes immediately just stay here. Maybe thinking too much about oceans isn't the best idea either." I try to play down the situation.
*I really didn't think about that happening. Shit, this isn't what I wanted. But that fire thing. Why fire Grams, why?* I think while rushing to the next room to get clothes and a wet towel.
"Hey look, look! It's burning! A flame red and hot. Look. I made this!" It sounds from the next room.
"I'm coming Grams. Maybe think of Windmill or a Kite in the air. Some kind of autum breeze." I shout.
"Huh, What? Windmill?" Grams asks wondering.
*God, this look is killing me. God, please at least just let her make something else than fire please.*
"Yeah a Windmill this big house with those wheely things going around you know." I explain while changing her clothes for her.
"Hey Rince have you injured yourself? Are you in pain?" she asks worryingly.
"You know an autumn breeze Grams?" I don't even reply to her question. "You know that warm little wind gust, that plays with your hair softly?
Yeah an autumn breeze. It comes quickly by surprise. Takes all your attention. Penetrates your clothes. Whispers things from another place into your ears and leaves swiftly."
"And takes your thoughts away." Grams adds.
I just stand there with a tear running down my cheek.
"Hey look! Look Rince....... Rince?" | I'm a very decent person, just so you know. You don't choose your parents, and it isn't my fault I'm the grand-daughter of the former Archmage. You wouldn't feel any delight if you saw me, but I do my daily work as required and that's all you can ask for. My duties include attending to grandma, which has become quite a bore in recent years. Grandma lives a little bit outside the village, for reasons that you will understand later.
Yesterday I was at her cottage with potatoes, and she hushed at me and waved at me excitedly.
She brought me over to the tiled stove, said 'whoops, here it goes', and the magical spark quickly lit the wood. As the flames began fluttering and flickering, the old woman looked at me excitedly and repeated :
'Whoops!'. I had seen so many times. They say that 'time heals all wounds', but this wound it won't heal.
In her youth she had been a formidable beauty, and often flew away with mother to Blockula to meet their master who gave them powers in return for their beauty, as the saying goes. I think you know of what I speak, no meaning discussing it further. The trade had worked, since she became one of Swedens most celebrated mages, an archmage of Skövde in fact. Incredibly powerful elemental magician and symbolist. But the deal had worked both ways. She was now suffering from Alzheimer, and couldn't remember faces, something with the long or short term memory, I don't know how it works. But the most dreadful thing for my village was that she was now so ugly that travellers from afar, young strong men, screamed in absolute horror when they saw her.
It's very rare that grown men scream like that, seldom happens even when they meet a wild bear in the forest.
They say there's something 'carnal' with my family, but facts are we are very decent folks, once you get to know us. | 2019-09-14T13:16:05 | 2019-09-14T12:20:28 | 31 | 15 |
[WP] You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.
If you want to post this on other platforms, please credit me. Looking at you instagram writing prompts. | Stacy squinted as an unfamiliar man entered her kindergarten classroom. She had not seen him before, but he did not give off the air of a stranger either. Somehow, she felt a connection between them.
The man had smooth black hair. He dressed like an old man but looked much younger than her father.
‘Good morning children. I am your substitute teacher, Mr Xennoavlaas, but you may address me as your god- I mean Mr Xen. Any questions?’
The class erupted into a cheer, as they always did with absent teachers.
Stacy raised her hand.
‘Ah yes,’ he said, loud enough to counteract the noise. ‘What knowledge do you seek High priestess?’
‘Um… what happened to Ms Parker?’
‘Your original instructor has been sidelined due to foreseen circumstances.’
‘I don’t really get it. And my name is Stacy.’
‘Worry not Stacy, all will be revealed soon enough. Thank you for the candy bar you left at my shrine by the way.’
‘You mean the one I left outside for good luck at recess?’
‘Yes. It has been a long time since any human procured for me something as divine as SNICKERS CREAMY PEANUT BUTTER. Such piety deserves reward.’
The classroom grew louder but Mr Xen seemed to ignore it. He simply stood at the front centre of the class, maintaining a wide smile.
Stacy turned to her friend Emma.
‘Mr Xen is reaaaaaallly weird.’
‘Yeah. Everyone knows Kit-Kat is better than Snickers,’ Emma replied.
Suddenly Stacy felt a wet spitball peck the back of her neck. She turned around angrily to see David with a straw in his mouth. Ugh! The rascal was at it again. He annoyed Stacy like this on a daily basis. David breathed in and spat another pellet but it flew towards the ceiling instead, sticking itself there. Both He and Stacy blinked in surprise before he breathed in to try again.
‘David brown isn’t it?’ Mr Xen asked.
David jumped out of his seat as Mr Xen had addressed him from behind. The students looked around confusedly. Had the substitute teacher not been at the front of the classroom seconds ago?
‘Mischievous little child aren’t you? You’re lucky. There was a time where such deeds would be disciplined through flogging.’
Stacy doubted David knew what “flogging” was but Mr Xen seemed to have intimidated greatly. David began to cry.
‘Oh don’t worry child! Despite your misdeeds you are still part of the congregation and will benefit as such. As will everyone else in this classroom. Courtesy of your High priestess.’
Stacy was about to ask Mr Xen what the deal was with this High priestess stuff when two masked men carrying guns burst into the classroom.
The class began to scream in terror but Mr Xen calmly looked at his watch.
‘Ah, right on time,’ he said.
Stacy hid under the table and covered her ears. Mr Xen was expecting them? Was he working with them?
She watched from under the table as one of the masked men pointed a gun at Mr Xen.
‘We were on the run from the cops, but lucky us found a school to make use of. If you don’t want us hurting any kids, you best cooperate.’
Mr Xen wagged a finger and tutted, then shook his head in disappointment.
‘Humans. All so full of malice and avarice. This is why I abandoned you for millennia. It seems little has changed during my slumber. You should all learn from Stacy over there.’
Stacy wanted to scream at Mr Xen. Why was he directing the scary men’s attention to her?
‘The hell you on about?’ asked the other masked man. ‘No wonder our education system’s so shit. They got crackpots like you in here.’ He pointed his gun in Stacy’s direction. ‘But as crazy as you are, you wouldn’t risk her life would you?’
Mr Xen snapped his fingers and the man’s hand twisted. He cried in pain as the gun dropped to the floor. The other masked robber clicked his pistol at Mr Xen but it refused to fire.
‘All of you are infants in my eyes. But even a being as ancient as I can see that you should learn some manners from these children.’
Mr Xen raised his hands and both masked men began levitating in the air. A portal appeared from thin air, swallowing them both. There was a silence, as all the children in the class looked at Mr Xen, speechless.
‘If there’s one thing you take away from today’s class, don’t mess with a god’s priestess. Good day children, Ms Parker should be back within the hour. Oh and…bring more Snickers next time please.’
r/IZicle | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc ?, Interlude ?: Astrid)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**They remembered.**
Once, they had been mighty. Their name was known throughout the Six Isles, and every oath in their name, every marriage blessed by their hand, gave them another droplet of power. Once, Astrea, Sovereign of Shooting Stars, had guided their kingdom of ten thousand people, mightiest in the world, to power and prosperity.
But as time went on, the world expanded. The Six Isles went from the greatest power in the world to a small, Mediterranean island chain; their glorious kingdom of ten thousand became a medium-sized town, dwarfed by mega-cities with millions of souls. Time was, to be worshipped by thousands as a deity, you had to be something *special*. Nowadays, any damn influencer could get a hundred times that many adoring fans, leaving the old gods drained dry of the faith that was their lifeblood.
Until they were remembered.
It wasn't much, as ritual sacrifices went. Gone were the days where the fattened calf would be slain at the altar. But blood and fury were not the only kinds of magic in this world. There was more power in a child's wish upon a shooting star than all the DIY videos and Let's Plays in the world.
And Astrea was the Sovereign of Shooting Stars.
They had bided their time. They were so weak, barely a whisper on the wind. But they dedicated themself to keeping the child safe. From what, they did not know—there were few enough dangers left, in this modern world. Where you could step into a plane and rise into the sky, drifting above Death itself.
Until you fell.
Astrea didn't know what had gone wrong—they had been born ten thousand years too early to make sense of the technology. All they knew was that there was smoke and fire and screams and suddenly the plane was beginning to *drop*. Stark against the night sky, the plane burned as it fell, a man-made shooting star.
But Astrea was the Sovereign of Shooting Stars.
Even here, where their power was strongest, there was so *little* they could do. They could put their finger on the scales exactly once, and their strength would be spent. That was all.
But maybe that would be enough.
And so, as the shooting star came to Earth, Astrea blurred tight and close to a crying little girl. And with the last whispers of their soul, they spoke five words.
"It's going to be okay."
As the engine snapped off and the wings shrieked in complaint, Astrea said,
"It's going to be okay."
As their power grew weak and their life fell spent, they said,
"It's going to be okay."
And for a sheltered, silent moment in a man-made shooting star, Astrea wiped away the tears of a scared little girl.
Then, the faith they'd hoarded over millennia spent, Astrea disappeared.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-09-02T08:20:20 | 2021-09-02T07:28:26 | 191 | 93 |
[WP] Everyone is born with blond hair. A person's hair turns brown when they lose their innocence.
Edit: Loving all of these takes, guys! Definitely a lot darker than I expected! | "Amanda, get back here...NOW." Jerry was almost shaking with anger as his daughter shuffled back into the kitchen, having just rushed by her father on her way to her room. Absent-mindedly, she tucks a lock of her dark hair behind one of her ears.
"Dad, look, let me explain..." The 16-year old stammers, holding her hands up defensively.
"No! You listen to me!" A rage Amanda had never seen before seemed to contort Jerry's face, and she swore she saw flames in his eyes. Like, REAL, flickering hellfire-type flames. "It's that boy, isn't it? Jared or...or Johnny, or whatever the fuck his name is!"
"It's Josh, Da-..."
"I don't give a FUCK what his name is, look what he did to me little girl! My precious...my INNOCENT little girl! He's gone and stolen that away from you, and for what? A few minutes of fun? Did either of you even stop to think what sort of repercussions that might have? What people might think of you? No, of course not. It's just ALL fun and games with you two, isn't it?"
"Dad, seriously, just hold on a secon-..."
"Shut up, Amanda! Just shut up. You're not seeing him again, do you hear me? Never...and dating? Hah, you can just forget about that! As far as I'm concerned, you're officially a nun, got it? I don't want to see you with a boy, I don't want to hear about you hanging out with a boy, I don't even want to hear the WORD boy until you're forty!"
Amanda slams something onto the kitchen counter. A small, rectangular box with a woman modeling her salon-styled brunette hair on the front.
"Hair dye, Dad. It's winter, brunette is in." | And now! A word from our sponsors.
I'm Catherine Harris from "the wind that blows". Everyone knows me as the truest blonde in Hollywood but truth is even I get a hint of brown. That is until I found Genuine by Kriz Montz. It's difficult enough finding a good man but nothing ruins a great first date like a dark streak in the morning. Doesn't matter if you a business woman, stay at home mom, or just a student Genuine is for you.
Kim always laughed at those commercials but after noticing her thin blonde hair growing dark she began to worry if others noticed too. | 2014-05-10T20:26:40 | 2014-05-10T17:36:43 | 44 | 23 |
[WP] You're a superhero. Despite saving the city 4 times a week your hates by the community. While fighting one of your villains a crowd gathers to boo you. The villain you're fighting stops turn to the crowd and says "listen here you ungrateful brats" | “Listen here you ungrateful brats!” Ruckus shouts. The crowd freezes to his command and so do I. “The Hell is wrong with you? I’m supposed to be the villain!” He tries to make himself larger than life. The man can’t be taller than 5’5, that never stopped him from being slightly more intimidating than Gloria. That’s not here, nor there.
“Do you-” I try to distract him.
“Wait.” He interrupts me, of course he does, he needs to have the last word. “I gotta figure shit here. Why are these excuses of people booing you?”
“He destroyed my car!” Gloria shouts from the crowd.
Ruckus snaps his fingers. “That was me you little shit!” I would usually rush towards any of the bystanders, but I’m tired. The ground cracks below her, a black whole swallows her. Gloria’s screams resound outwards. The crowd and I stand there waiting for a minute, she keeps screaming, no collisions or crashes, she doesn’t even seem further away. With that Ruckus became the most intimidating person in Crimson City. We also got rid of Gloria’s horrid pies. The thought of them makes me shiver. A couple of other people shake too. “Any other complains?”
Most of the crowd shakes their heads, avoiding confrontation with him. Except for one Rodrigue. Of course, he wants to complain. It’s not a want, at this point it’s a need. It’s engrained in his DNA. If I wasn’t a hero in training, I would have solved it way earlier. “He slashed me!” He signals the very normal and very unscathed arm.
Ruckus face looks like he will poop a vein. He is red, no one steals his thunder. Much less a group of wannabes. This time he glares at me, “You aren’t even worth my breath.”
As Rodrigue opens his mouth, a wasp flies in. In that moment, his mouth disappears. I should do something, but Rodrigue was the worst. We would blame me for getting a paper cut when I was in the toilet. People I have needs! I need my time.
The crowd looks horrified. A couple of them have started running. Younger kids and teens have stayed to watch the aftermath. Gloria keeps screaming, from the bottomless pit, but that’s for the better.
Ruckus stares at me, his disguise is a mess. And the only other person that’s that short is Marcus. I know it’s him, and he knows I’m Ryan. Mostly because my disguise can cover my higher pitched voice and what he called laguna green eyes. The awkward teen in me stumbles upon words, “Want to go out?”
His face lights up, “Finally! I did all this, so you paid attention to me!”
I freeze, “What?” I’ve been crushing on him since we were sixteen. Way before I entered Hero College. My face lights up too. “You could have just told me.”
He swings his leg and looks away. “With all your hero stuff, classes, and other stuff, you were never around. I…” He scratches the back of his head. “I wanted to tell you, but...”
“We get it! Get a room!” One of the bystanders’ shouts.
I wink at the random ruining our moment. He quivers. Stops, notices nothing happens, then electricity flies away from his body. The only reason they match me to face Ruckus is because we share powers over causality, luck, and some other stuff. Lucky Rabbit isn’t a name I’m proud of, but I’ll keep it.
“Lunch at the seafood place we love?” I hold his hand.
“Yes.”
And that’s how Marcus and I ended up dating. Retiring from the superhero and villain show and getting that house he always wanted in Malibu. Till this day Crimson City keeps hearing Gloria's screams, no one not even us know when she will hit the end or if she will ever hit it. But apparently she became a tourist attraction and people throw her food and water. She only stops screaming when eating or drinking. | You have heard that there is a villain in a convenience store. As you are superjumping your way to the scene, you see a crowd around the convenience store, laughing and talking, with coke and hamburgers in their hands. Among them is a TV station man with a camera.
'You're out of pickles!!!!!!!'
Hey! You're out of Coke! Bring it in quick!!!!"
How about a bet that the villain of the day gets 1.2x the money for 30 seconds, 1.5x for 1 minute, 10x for 5 minutes, to see how long he can fight! You can start with as little as $1! Come on! I got it, I got it, I got it!
Will you be able to enjoy today's battle for long? I'm counting on it!"
As usual, there was a noisy crowd, but I ignored them, and I fired my special move, a super beam, into the crotch of the villain who was floating in mid-air. Immediately the battle was about to end, the betting crowd threw empty cans at me, and the TV station people signaled that the crotch attack was not good, so I had to stop the broadcast.
The uncool villain holding his crotch yelled to the crowd around him.
'Listen up, you ungrateful brats!
The crowd is abuzz.
'Listen up, you ungrateful brats!
Crowd is still noisy. Oops, looks like someone just burped loudly.
"Listen up, you ungrateful little bastards!"
Perhaps the reiteration has worked, because the crowd stops screaming.
'Why, why do you people always do that! We're the ones doing the wrong thing, and no one calls the police! And no one calls the fire department! Even though we look forward to your screams over here, you get mad over the number of pickles and get up over the amount of Coke!!!!"
The crowd pouts.
'So do you!!!! Why do you always use your special move the moment you have one!!!! You're supposed to take more time to fight, and then use your special move when it's the right moment! Look at that! The underlings there in their all-black tights are out of work, so they're playing with their smart phones! Even the monsters are sleeping!
You guys need to learn more about heroics! There's more like this, right? Look, heroes who can use a bow well, heroes who don't use a shield as a shield... what about that one? It's not for you... Anyway! Anyway, go watch more heroes! You know what I mean! I'm going to the hospital now to get checked out!
You are the peacekeeper of the city today. That's cool!
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version) | 2022-06-17T05:27:51 | 2022-06-17T03:35:23 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] The dragon is terrorizing the kingdom again and like before you're summoned before the king. "I thought you said you slayed the dragon!" "Slayed? Oh boy, I think there is a bit of a misunderstanding your highness. I said I got the dragon laid, not slayed." | "It's simple sire, after a "good bout" a dragon hibernates for at least 70 winters! Much easier than piercing it's impervious hide!"
"But are you telling me that the dragon of legend, specifically, has returned? That which set the isles ablaze for fifteen hundred years! The very dragon that immolated the great kingdom of Alhamaraj to the west and set our ancestors on our thousand year diaspora? Are you telling me that the very same dragon who turned our ancient home into a smoking crater has once again returned?"
"Yes sire"
"Gromwall, most trusted of knights, surely you jest? My father and his grandfather before him consolidated power of the starry isles off of your legend as a dragon slayer! Slayer! We've had no question as to our god given authority since the florist's revolt of 812!"
"Well, sire, it certainly benefitted us to play up the whole capital D dragon slayer myth didn't it? I'm sure you enjoy the royal feasts and what have you. Might I say that your royal stature surely did not bloom from a peasant's diet. Besides, it hasn't been a problem up until now, has it?"
"Did... Did my father know about this? Did he know of the... exact details of the dragon's dormancy?"
"No, sire, he lived blissfully unaware. Quite a wrathful man your father! Dragon king this and dragon king that! Your grandfather, however, engineered the solution himself! And quite a genius solution it was, might I say"
"And your trips to foreign lands, for 'dragon felling'?"
"We've exported our services to many kingdoms my liege! What do you think fills our royal coffers? Our export of dragon memorabilia? No! There exists no king who does not call up Gromwall the dragon layer in times of crisis!"
"This... This is outrageous! Has my entire life been a sham! Our entire kingdom!? Why am I the last to hear about this!"
"It's a slightly touchy subject here, what with the state religion being based around, er, killing dragons sire. Your grandfather lived in seditious times, a little white lie helped consolidate power. Can't dismantle that now. Panic in the streets there'd be."
"Then what do we tell the people? We can't risk a revolt!"
"Simple! We say the dragon had a child! The peasants will believe anything if it means no more death by fire."
"But what of my divine birthright? What of my dynasty's status as 'anointed in dragon's blood'? If the church finds out... it would be open revolution!"
"By the by sire, I'm sorry to say but the dragon's blood has been more goat than lizard, a good deal of our priesthood helped concoct our initial solution. You'll have no trouble from them as long as we continue providing them the imperial tithe."
"And what will it cost me?"
"Well, if I recall correctly, last time we needed just about all the feathers of all the chicken's in the capital, but we've grown steadily since last time, I'm sure it would only halve our crop this time. Oh! and all of the blacksmiths we could get our hands on to forge some "dragon scale shaped shields for our fighting men". And all of that is not to mention the other more sensitive materials we'll be needing."
"And there's no other way?"
"Sire, I have been up close and in some cases inside upwards of 30 dragons. The beasts are completely invulnerable. Either god or the devil's own, the difference is semantics. But rest assured, you have the fore most expert on dragon disposal right before your eyes. If anyone can lay this dragon low, it's yours truly"
"Gromwall you have my official seal for any supplies you may need. But this is need to know! We can't have the sanctity of the throne be shaken by this. If this gets out it's my head on the chopping block!"
"Not a problem sire, my dragon calls have only improved with age. We'd need our device done up post haste if I am to get some practice in. I'll be piloting our ploy myself, of course."
"Er... Are you sure Gromwall? There's no need for a man of 94, especially one so decorated, to personally-"
"Well! I best be off to make some preparations, can't have the blacksmiths making faulty scales! Off we go to lay a dragon! Might I say sire, your grandfather would be so proud! Oh! but after this is over, we may need to have a short discussion regarding, er, 'vampires', my liege" | Mcfuckles69420 is my name and slaying monsters is my game. These kingdoms wouldn't know what to do without me. With my help, I've saved the dwarves, elves, merfolk, and I've saved the human prince's relationship with his sister... Twice! But now his father, the king, has summoned me for another quest. Dragon Slayer 2 I heard. Funny, the last time I was there the quest turned out to be a lot simpler than I expected.
I make my usual route walking into the kingdom, buying a couple pies, talking to the locals, making a wish at the grand fountain and admiring my... Wait. Where'd my statue go? Scanning the area reveals that there's been some sort of wind storm around here. I wonder if it got damaged in the storm.
"Greetings Mcfuckles69420! We are at our wits end with this dragon terrorizing the kingdom. We thought you took care of it last summer, you told us you absolutely slayed it! Those were your exact words. " Said the king ever sternly, his bushy eyebrows tightening together with concern.
"Oh yeah I totally slayed her. It was surprisingly easy actually" I said. "Wait wait wait, are you saying she's back?" The thought of seeing her again exciting something deep within me.
"Oh my boy, we are constantly being terrorized by it's avarice. Stealing our horses and treasures, including that golden statue we made of you. We thought you killed it! How could you lie to us after all we've done for you?" the king's tone sinks to a more sorrow tone of disappointment.
"Wooah now, hold on. I *slayed* her but I didn't kill her! I uh, i laid the dragon" I exclaimed with embarrassment as my face goes pink.
"What?" said the kings advisor
"What?" said the queen
After a long pause, and stunned stare, the king opened up again "You... You laid the dragon?"
"Yup, she was horny as all hell and I penetrated her deeply with my longsword but told me she wasn't looking for a relationship even tho-"
"ENOUGH!" The king shouted. "Get. Get the hell out of my kingdom"
"But-" I tried to explain but was sharply cut off by his majesty.
"GUARDS!! ESCORT MCFUCKLES69420 OUT OF TOWN THIS INSTANT!" They grappled me on both ends, these guards are total noobs and I could take them if I wanted to but I feel like I really let the king down so I just went along with it. "AND DON'T COME BACK UNTIL THE DRAGON IS PROPERLY DEALT WITH!"
The guards escorted me to the outskirts of town by buckleberries farm and asked a few prying questions about how I slayed the dragon. I obligingly filled them in on our hot steamy night. Dragons can shapeshift, which I guess isn't common knowledge around here. It's not like I fucked a full sized dragon. Her human form was beautiful. Far more appealing than the inbreds around these parts. She said she was leaving for her own world and I thought I'd never see her again, like a ghost she just disappeared. I hope this is her way of reaching out. Cause I'd slay her again. They don't call me Mcfuckles69420 for nothing.
To be continued...? | 2022-01-12T17:16:06 | 2022-01-12T15:37:27 | 51 | 26 |
[WP] From birth, everybody has a word imprinted on their left arm. This is the last word they will ever say. | Nothing can prepare you for parenthood. Knowing suddenly, that everything's changed, and that you've now got a purpose much higher than any you've held in your life... your children can mean the world to you. And you'd do anything that's in your power to protect them.
In our strange little world, everybody knows at least a bit about the day that they pass. My wife, we know that her last words will be "*forgiven*." A bittersweet word to know waits for your death. Me, I've got "*ready*." That used to give me so much hope, because it meant that I could go on my own terms, once I'd accepted things.
Everything changed today, though, with the birth of our little Jacob, when the doctor read out his word, printed neatly on his left arm. "*Help,"* it said, in small black text. **Help.** Here I am, as a parent, trying to make his life happy, and I already know it'll end with him in desperate need of assistance. Oh, how that thought kills me inside.
On reading his word, I got a new perspective on my own. I don't think that one day, I'll come to terms with my death, and go when I'm prepared. If only that were still the case. I know, now, that one day, when I feel the life leaving me (for whatever injury or sickness it might be), I'll think of my son, and how he'll die when he needs me the most. I cry even now just thinking of it, and know that I'll pass saying "Not yet. I'm *not* ready." | The lights are fading. Everything gets quiet. His breaths are getting more and more shallow. A single tear runs down Deena's cheek as the time grows near. The patient sits up right and with his last bit of energy reads two words off his arm, "...titty sprinkles"
And with that, Mr Morgan Freeman has expired. | 2015-02-05T15:51:27 | 2015-02-05T15:04:15 | 151 | 49 |
[WP] As you reach certain milestones in your life, you are allowed to get certain "upgrades" for your body. These can range anywhere from an increase of 10 IQ points to angel wings to hardened bones. | The first one was a healing factor. Mark wanted a faster reaction time, but his parents had to agree to that, and he didn't want to explain why. The next day, when Jo and his mates caught Mark after school again, he didn't hold back. His bruises were gone before he got home, his parents none the wiser.
The pain didn't go away quite as fast.
The second one — pitch improvement. Not a perfect pitch, but better than what he had. Mark took it for his second college girlfriend, Kathy, who was always a bit disappointed he wasn't that much into music. Sadly, the relationship didn't work out, though he did keep the guitar.
The third one — metabolism shift. He was gaining weight, and metabolism upgrade not only reversed that, but also got him into running, which Mark enjoyed a lot.
He met his wife, Lin, through running. It was very romantic — a guy was harassing her, and just as Mark approached to help she snapped, and both the guy and Mark somehow ended up in the dust. After all, she did take the faster reaction time. In a few moments though she realized her mistake, helped him up and apologized.
Six years later, after a visit to Lin's parents, autocar navigation system malfunctioned and their car lost control and crashed into a lamppost. Fortunately, he had a healing factor. Fortunately, his wife had a bone strength upgrade.
Fourth — he took a sleep upgrade when they had a baby, leaving a bit more time to spend with the family.
"It's the pitch upgrade" said the doctor, ten years later. "We can't undo it, and the new immortality upgrade is incompatible with it. If we apply it, you will die. I am sorry, but we can't give you the immortality treatment."
Mark waited for Lin to complete her estimation. As she left the doctor's office, she shook her head. "It's the eye color change" she said. "It's incompatible". "It's pitch upgrade for me" said Mark. They looked at each other.
"What a bunch of sad puppies we are" said Lin, and they couldn't help but laugh.
-------------------------
"Have you ever regretted your upgrade choices?" asked the reporter.
"Of course I did" said Mark. "Of course I wanted something else, time to time. But it all ended up well, didn't it? That were my choices, and that is my life, and I regret nothing of it. You can't spend all the time wishing for something else. Did you regret yours?"
"No" lied the reporter. | "...So you take a couple points in Mental Calculator, save for True Polyglot, and dump the rest into Natural Charm and you're golden!"
She walked her nimble fingers across the work book and I was mesmerized. It certainly didn't take much for me to lose focus though. I hated build theory.
"That's just for example, though. Where have you been spending your points?"
I'd force a weak grin, just for her sake. Inside my skull I was floundering for a way out of the question. I was ashamed of my Unbreakable Body and Lightning Reaction build. All for a passing motorcycle phase.
"Well I made some wasteful decisions, uh... I mean we all do when we're young. Just uhm, look at all the people who have their new wings amputated within a year... I mean who let kids level so early..?"
She shuffled on the bench and I heard the feathers rustle. Her eyeglasses flashed a reflection of the sun as she turned toward me. I looked away from that glare.
"You can never get those points back, but you can plan for those to come. With a good build, those amputees could have flown."
The sun had set and the glare had gone. When I finally looked back, it had started to rain. | 2015-08-23T04:49:41 | 2015-08-23T04:25:56 | 237 | 38 |
[WP] Not far from your village is a small grove. Within the grove a monster dwells. It devours the guilty and leaves the innocent. When the worst crimes are committed, the accused are sent to face the creature. You have murdered someone in self-defense. You enter the grove unsure of your fate. | **-- Part 1 --**
By nightfall the villagers had lit their torches and grabbed their pitchforks, beginning the ravenous parade of chants and hisses behind the Warden, leading the Accused in chains. The Accused couldn’t help but contemplate his fate as they continued their forced march. “Murderer!” “Killer!” “Death to the guilty!” The cries of the mob echoed behind him, falling on deaf ears as the Accused recalled what led them to this.
Certainly, he had killed a man - In particular, the town’s butcher Oleg. Oleg was once a brutish man, not too well liked within the Village community due to his inclination to rage and excessive drinking. Yet still somehow he had a wife, Victoria, who ended up defending him to her last breath despite the abuse she was so obviously facing from his drunken stupor. Needless to say, the village avoided him unless they needed his services. He wouldn’t be missed.
The Accused flinched as a rock slung into his shoulder, saying nothing as the Warden turned to bark at the villagers for stepping out of line. The group shrank back like a beast when threatened with flame, quieting for a moment before their murmured insults took to resounding around the woods once more. The destination of the group likely meant certain death to the Accused, and the villagers were certainly hungry for his blood. But at this point… The Accused didn’t pay his fate much mind.
They were nearing the end, he thought, as the normally green pines that cluttered the woods began to twist and blacken, writhing out of the ground as if they were contorting with some unexplained pain. This was the entrance to The Grove, a place where the accused were trialed by something incomprehensible. They called it a monster, something that had the ability to judge a person’s innocence for the crimes they have committed with naught but a glance. Those who were given to the Grove most often disappeared, supposedly consumed by whatever dwelled in the pit at it’s center, therefore deemed guilty by the Village and forgotten. But for those who returned, managing to escape the pit they had been placed into for judgement… They were deemed ‘Innocent’, but had no recollection of their encounter with the supposed creature that lurked below.
Unfortunately, this oftentimes did not change the Village’s opinion on those innocent individuals. Those who came back innocent were often banished from the community, or simply ostracized as the Villagers clearly showed their discontent at the individual’s return. Whoever entered the Grove was damned regardless of the monster’s decision.
The group had finally reached their destination, the maw of the Grove looming before the halo of twisted trees. The Warden gave his companion his torch, before turning to face the raucous crowd, projecting his voice over the noise.
“Tonight we sentence Sven Vaaraghast, the Accused, to his damnation. Murderer of the town butcher Oleg Havaadson and Madeline Vaaragahst, the Accused’s own wife. The Grove will be the final say in this sinner’s judgement, may the monster see this man for the horrid path he’s led, and consume his soul for the crimes he has wrought.”
Sven the Accused was turned towards the pit, the echoing blackness that yawned before him resounding louder than the ravenous cries of the villagers. He couldn’t see how far down the cavern stretched, but he hoped it would be enough to kill him outright before he became familiar with whatever may lay below.
A hard shove from the Warden was all it took to send him spiraling into the blackness below. | “Killer!” “Send him to the woods!” “It would eat you, murderer”. I only wanted to leave the village, that was all.
I walk away from the people who who were my friends, my family, into the thick line of trees. Yes I have killed and in doing so committed a great sin, I however have no evil in my heart. My assaulter does. The monster will see that won’t it? It has to know, it has to.
I have walked alone for a couple of hours now and it’s getting dark. No animals live beneath these great trees. Only silence and echoes of regret dwell here. Suddenly, a giant hairy arm crashes the ground before me, completely stopping me in my tracks. Between the trees I see it now. The body of human only scaled to epic proportions, enveloped in thick black hair. The head on the other hand is the most alien thing I have ever seen. A gaping maw with rows of yellow teeth beneath a single eye. The eye draws my attention for while I can see it I can’t focus on it. Until it looks at my face. I feel cold water inside my head as I realize this thing is looking through my soul, searching for a reason to end me.
“Well, human, I see now why the others sent you to me” it said in a language I have never heard before but completely understand. “He attacked me, please, please don’t kill me. He attacked me I swear!”
“Yes yes human, it was either getting sent to me or dying at his hands.” The monster brings its face closer and closer until it almost touches me, I smell death and decay from its mouth. “What will be your judgement I wonder?” It whispers. Cold sweat trickling down my spine I open my mouth again:” I don’t regret what I did even though I knew it meant going to you, because you will know I am innocent”
As I say that I notice behind me his other hand, holding a bunch of white strings, tugging on some while letting some be loose. “I knew they would send you to me because you were too ambitious, you wanted to leave, to leave me!” It screams at me, I flinch backwards but as I do he attaches a string to me head. “You won’t try to leave now, not like the others” he gestures behind him. All the people who were eaten, their bones facing away from him, trying to escape. Trying to escape the village. | 2021-03-16T12:39:38 | 2021-03-16T10:05:48 | 103 | 64 |
[WP] A superhero is fed up with how reliant his city has become on him for every little thing, so he takes a vacation. Upon his return, he discovers that the city is now completely free of crime... and that there's a $1,000,000 bounty on his head. | Whenever Doug came back to the city, he always stopped at the brick filling station at the edge of the limits. He liked to eat a small bag of corn chips and drink a Diet Coke before he changed into his bear costume and lumbered back into crime fighting mode. He also liked to visit with Marty, the owner of the station, who despite being quite far removed from the city always seemed to have a heads up on the latest debauchery. Marty's wife made the best fried pies.
There was a small line at the counter. Doug took his place at the end and looked up at the security television that reflected him standing there. His beard had come in gray this time which made him realize how long he'd been gone.
"Please, go ahead," said the woman in front of him.
"It's all right," said Doug. "No hurry."
"I insist," she said as she moved behind him.
The little old man now ahead of him conceded his spot too, much to Doug's demurring. A bit baffled, he stood across the counter from Marty, who cocked his head and peered at him just beyond the boundary of recognition.
"Marty, it's me, Doug. Don't you recognize me?"
Marty's eyes widened and a smile came to his lips.
"It's been so long. I can hardly recognize you! Where have you been?" asked Marty.
"A vacation, I suppose. Maybe more like a retirement. I suppose I lost track of time."
Doug placed his chips and soda on the counter. With the automation of a long time clerk, Marty pecked the buttons on the register. Doug felt the urge to reach out and hug him, to turn this into a rightful homecoming.
"Five million dollars, even," said Marty.
Doug laughed, admitting that he didn't have that much on him. He took a five dollar bill out of his wallet and extended it across the counter.
"Will this cover it?" he asked playfully.
Marty took the bill and stared down at it as one might look at an old toy.
"I haven't seen one of these in a long, long time. Where'd you even get it?"
Doug, honestly confused, shrugged. He was about to speak when the front door chimed and a kid, probably fifteen, walked through the door and wove immediately to the back aisle. Marty raised his index finger to ask for a moment. He then reached under the counter and produced a mop handle, about four feet long, sharpened to a barbaric point at one end. With silent white sneakers, Marty sneaked around the counter and hid behind the magazine rack near the doors. The boy hurried back up the aisle, clutching a small box in his hand, and turned the corner to make his exit. Marty lunged, catching his shirt on the corner of the wire rack, causing it to come crashing down in clatter of metal and magazines. The boy then clutched the middle of the mop handle with both hands, right at the point where Marty had buried it in his chest.
"Marty! You've killed him!" cried Doug.
Marty dumped the boy on the ground, planted his foot, and pulled free his makeshift spear. Reaching down, he saved the little cardboard box from the pooling blood and held it up so Doug could see.
"He's been coming in here and stealing the headache powder. Finally caught the little bugger."
Doug, his muscled arms hanging limply at his sides, gaped as Marty returned the box to its place and came back behind the counter. He took the rag from the soapy bucket, wiped his hands clean, and it was suddenly business as usual.
"Marty," said Doug, "I'm going to have to take you in."
"Take me in?" asked Marty, taken aback. "To where? For what?"
"To jail! For murder!"
Marty shook his head softly as one might pitifully listen to the rather useless questions of an amnesiac. He then looked past Doug to the people waiting patiently behind him.
"Take it, friends. It's on the house today."
The other customers quietly returned the items to their places on the shelves and filed out of the store, stepping instinctively over the bloodied linoleum. Marty locked the front doors and turned the sign to closed.
"Come on, Bear," he said, motioning to the staircase that led up to his apartment above the store. "There's things you need to know." |
“This city has become too reliant on me.” started Julia. “I think it is the time that the Silver Wolf takes a vacation where I can enjoy myself rather than focus on the petty problems that are throughout this city.”
And that was it, for the first time in her career, the Silver Wolf was going to take a vacation. Throughout the years she has stopped numerous super villains, including the infamous Jolly Jackal, Professor Lazy Cheat and of course, Brain Matter. However, the public had become reliant on her appetite to stop crime. Now it was time for Julia to be herself, and to go have a luxurious vacation where she can finally sit back and relax, she is human too she deserves this right to relaxation.
However, it came as a great shock when the Silver Wolf had departed the city. There were very few good guys left, as everyone had relied on the Silver Wolf and decided that the city did not need their participation to keep the city safe since she protected everyone in the city. The criminals no longer had the competition that they were used to, and not having anyone to prevent their crimes took the adrenaline rush out of it so the criminals went rampant for the first couple days, but then they realized that crime just wasn’t as fulfilling as it once was.
This trend towards absolute peace had Mayor Maticke thinking. Although this is completely counter-intuitive, she decided that the way to fight crime is to not fight it at all. Professional fighters wouldn’t want to fight if there was no adversary, and this seemed to be true with the criminals in her city. She went on television and proclaimed that the Silver Wolf is now wanted, dead or alive. Anyone who can retrieve her will be awarded a hefty sum of one million dollars.
Julia was listening to the morning news while she was getting dressed in her hotel room when she overheard, “We are getting reports that Mayor Maticke has put a bounty on the Silver Wolf, who has kept her city safe, citing that there has been a massive decrease in the desire to commit crime since her departure.” Julia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Mayor Maticke, after years of working closely together to stop crime in the city, has turned her back on Julia and now has put a bounty on her head.
Julia thought, “If they don’t want me, I’ll gladly stay here, no reason to force my helpfulness up there. If I ever want to stop crime, I can just continue to low key fight crime down here under a new identity that nobody could connect me to the Silver Wolf. I can become, The Owl.”
And that was that, Julia decided to stay down south where she can enjoy the nicer weather, relax and fight crime when she pleases. This was the life, until Mayor Dabrowski put a bounty on her head when he saw the progress that was being had in Mayor Maticke’s city. Eventually, President Smith announced that with the help of Congress, she has passed a law stating that all superheroes are now outlawed.
Julia saw this news, “I guess it’s time to go to Canada, although there is little crime to solve there…”
Edit: I fixed the formatting I think, just couldn't indent
Thanks for reading! I don't know why the formatting is so weird :( | 2017-07-10T10:08:45 | 2017-07-10T09:17:36 | 133 | 34 |
[WP] After the Battle of Hogwarts, Dudley met a woman and they had a daughter,Sophie. Sophie is the light of their lives,she's always been a pleasant child. The morning of Sophie's 11th birthday,there’s a knock at the door. Harry is here to visit his cousin for the first time in almost 20 years.
I just want to say that I'm super excited to read these responses! I'm holding off reading them until my kiddo goes to bed so I can sit and really pay attention to your stories!!
I can't wait to see what you guys come up with | Harry walked up the road towards number four Privet Drive. Passing by a few relics of his childhood he never expected to see again. He gave a short smile as he passed by Mrs. Figgs' house remembering the smell of all the cats. It didn't look like she lived there anymore. Harry, if he were honest with himself, had lost track of her. He has lost track of many things on this street.
He had sent a few letters to Dudley over the years. Most of what he heard back at first was simple information. Just news about his Aunt and Uncle. Aunt Petunia has been sick and in the hospital. She has been having trouble remembering things lately so Harry thought it was just best to stay away. He still sends flowers to her room every week. Just leaves the name off the card. Dudley gave him the room number. Uncle Vernon passed away a few years ago. His heart finally caught up with him. Harry attended the funeral, but kept his distance from the family. He did see a little girl with her mother though. Maybe two years old at the time. Big round face like Dudley always had growing up. Harry thought to himself if he put a little grey mustache on her she would look a bit like Uncle Vernon. Still cute as could be though.
When Dudley wasn't writing about his Aunt and Uncle he wrote about Sophie. It was odd reading of Dudley doting over his daughter. It was really sweet, but off putting when he thought of how Dudley was when they were kids.
It had been years since Harry had seen Dudley. He couldn't help, but wonder as he walked up the stairs to the door how he would react. Harry looked around for a moment before knocking on the door. He waited. For a moment nothing happened. Harry considered turning around. Maybe they had went somewhere it was her birthday after all. Then something started stirring inside the house, barreling down the stairs.
The door opened and standing there in front of Harry was a little girl. Not as little as he remembered, but definitely the same little girl. Tall for her age and still with the round face. They looked at each other. Her face lit up at this new visitor as she said, with only the voice of child who has eaten far too many sweet could.
"Hello! Did you know its my birthday."
Harry stared. He said nothing for moment then he let out.
"Yes. Yes in fact that is -"
But he was cut off by a booming voice from the other room. Harry reflexes kicked in as he jumped at the sound.
"Sophie, sweetie what have I told you about opening the door for strangers."
"But Dad I think its the mailman he might have more presents."
"Honey I told you there's no -"
And Dudley stopped as he turned the corner from the kitchen into the hallway leading up to the front door. From a mile away from down the hall Harry and Dudley looked at each other for the first time in 20 years. Sophie broke the silence.
"Well who are you then sir?"
Dudley interjected saying "Sophie could you please go up to your room for a few minutes. I'll come and get you soon."
She pouted for a moment, but trotted up the stairs at her father's request. Dudley said nothing. Harry couldn't get a read on him. Dudley had moved a step past Vernon and grown a full beard. It did a great job of hiding whatever he was thinking. Harry trying to break the tension asked.
"So did she get your old room or mine. Yours was always a bit bigger, but I had the window looking out the front."
Dudley didn't so much as speak, but waved Harry into the house. Harry followed Dudley in through the doorway and sat next to the fireplace. Dudley stepped away into the kitchen and Harry could hear the clutter of the teapot on the stove.
While he waited Harry looked around the strangely unfamiliar room. Aunt Petunia's old wallpaper had been taken down to reveal more of the wood paneling underneath. The furniture had all changed. Less antique pieces and more functional or comfortable chairs has taken their place. Still looked rustic just more Dudley's style. The fireplace was lined with pictures of Dudley's family. Harry stood and picked up a family portrait of Dudley, Sophie, and a woman he had only seen once or twice he has known to be...
"Mary is out at the moment" grumbled Dudley. "Dropping of some stuff to mum she should be back soon."
He was carrying a plate with the teapot and a couple of old fashioned looking cups.
"Is this Aunt Petunia's old set?" Harry said examining his cup which had certainly been repaired once before.
Dudley nodded as he silently poured them both some tea. He gingerly placed a couple of sugar cubes into his own cup.
"I er got Sophie a gift." Harry said ruffling through his pockets. "I knew it was her birthday. She's already 11 that's um amazing. She's the same age as Albus."
Harry trailed off as Dudley merely chuckled not saying a word taking the present and sitting it on the arm of his chair.
"Look I'm sorry for coming over unannounced, but this was important." Harry started to move his hand through his pocket again. "Usually they don't do this, but I asked McGonagall and she said it was alright. I have a letter. Well, Sophie has a letter."
Dudley grew wide eyed and stared through Harry. He was stone faced and determined. There was a slight rattle as he almost dropped his cup onto his plate and he reached out his hand, open, towards Harry.
Harry handed the letter to Dudley. He took it into both of his hands and examined the back running his fingers across the wax seal. The small ribbon attached weaved through his fingers as he flipped it over to see the address on the front.
Sophie Dursley
4 Privet Drive
The Smallest Bedroom
Little Whinging, Surrey
His hands shook as he read the front, but Harry could not see his face. Dudley sat there staring at the letter for what seemed like ages. Harry watched him as slowly his cousin looked up at him. his eyes all puffy.
Dudley's voice echoed loudly off the walls of house as he called upstairs.
"Sophie could you come down here for a minute."
Immediately bounding down the stairs, as if she had been listening from the top the whole time, came Sophie looking innocent as ever.
Dudley said "Sophie I would like you to meet your uncle, Harry Potter. He has um been away for a while and it seems like he's back. I never told you this, but he saved my life once. He actually grew up here in your room. He brought you something."
Dudley reached out his hand holding the letter and gave it to Sophie. While she sat on the ground reading her letter Dudley leaned in and whispered to Harry.
"Do you think she will be okay there."
Harry looked at his cousin and said "Dudley, I think she will be brilliant."
​
edit: Some typos and formatting | *“Please! She gets scared when you do that.”*
*Dudley took a step back, and seemed to be considering the snowy owl in the cage in a new light. Then he snarled, and kicked the cage again. Hedwig squeaked, frightened, yet again.*
*“Your mum and dad told you not to-“*
*“Well, they’re not here, are they?” Dudley kicked the cage again. “And they won’t get back from the theatre for another three hours, so I can do whatever I want.”Harry’s hands curled up into fists. Dudley saw this, and scoffed.*
*“I don’t need to hear it again. How if you were allowed to, you could make me fly. You could make me dance. You could make me do whatever you want, right? But you can’t. Cause you’re a rule follower.”*
*Dudley leaned down, and smirked at the owl. Hedwig recoiled.*
*“I have to follow rules because magic is dangerous, Dudley. There are things you wouldn’t understand-“*
*“Oh, I won’t understand, would I? Because you and your fancy pants freak friends are so much smarter than me. But at least I don’t care about rules. I don’t care about what anyone tells me. I’m…”*
\-
“You’re a Dursley, Sophie. Don’t forget it.” Dudley was careful to say the words softly, but he wondered if his daughter knew how important they were to him.
She was reading the letter, the letter from Harry introducing himself.
“This…this is my uncle Harry?”
“Yes. That…is your uncle Harry.” It felt odd, to say those words. Harry had been out of Dudley’s life, but never completely out of his mind. Never out of those painful memories, of how stupid and mean Dudley had been…
“What’s he like, Daddy? Is he nice and funny like you?” Sophie was excited, almost dangerously so, about the prospect of another family member. Dudley supposed it was a good thing.
Dudley leaned down, and kissed his daughter’s forehead.
“He’s nice. But I don’t know if he’s very much like me.”
“Who is he? Where does he live?”
“I don’t know, sweetie. He’s a very important person, where he lives. I don’t know if or when we’ll ever get to see him. But it’s kind of him to send the letter.”
The letter had arrived in the talons of another handsome, snowy owl. Dudley looked out the window, at the quickly fading sky, and wondered…
\-
“Hello, Dudley,” Harry said. His tone was even and light, but there was an edge, something behind it.
“Hello, Harry-“
“Daddy? Who is it?” The Dursleys rarely received visitors, at the edge of the forest where they lived.
Sophie came bounding down the stairs, and then stood, almost shyly, behind her father’s leg. Harry leaned down, and looked into the girl’s green eyes, so very much like his own.
“I’m your uncle Harry, Sophie. It’s very nice to meet you.”
Sophie shook Harry’s outstretched hand, and giggled.
“Come on in,” Dudley said, his voice nervous.
Harry smiled, and said in barely a whisper. “Don’t worry, old cousin. No magic today.”
\-
They sat at the table, drinking badly made earl grey tea. Harry, polite as ever, didn’t comment. Sophie had long ago been put to bed, after exhausting herself showing her uncle all her toys and games.
“So why are you here?” Dudley asked.
“I think you know.”
“Just dropping in for a nice little visit on a Sunday, right?”
Harry smiled. “She kept saying how funny you are. I didn’t fully believe it.”
Dudley’s head dropped. “I wasn’t very funny to you, all those years ago.”
Harry shook his head. “That’s in the past. Believe me. We were children. It’s unfair to hold children to the standards we have now.”
“Still…I want to say sorry. I’ve wanted to, all these years.”
Harry nodded, once, and that was that.
“Sophie,” Harry began.
“She’s like you. My wife knows as well.”
“She has to know.”
“I know…I just, that world, Mum and Dad used to tell me how much pain it caused your family. I guess…”“You’re a little scared for her?”
Dudley nodded.
“You’d be crazy not to be.”
“But you’re still here. To ask me something.”
“I want you to know, Dudley, that you can say no. That little girl loves you very much, and it’s only natural to want her to be safe.”
“But you’re still asking…for what?”
Harry looked out the window now, seemingly checking for something.
“A dark force has risen again, Dudley. A force that will come for all of us, Muggle, wizards, everyone. And Sophie needs to learn so that she can defend herself. So that she can defend your family.”
Dudley looked out the window now. “You know, I was always jealous of you. I wondered what you were able to see in your world, all the things my mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend.”
“It’s the same as your world, Dudley, once you get used to it.”
“Then I want my daughter to be like you. Brave, and fair.”
Harry shook his head. “But it’s not just me, is it, Dudley? It runs in the family.”
“I guess.” Dudley was silent for a long time. “When would she leave?”
“Now,” Harry said with a fire in his eyes, the one Dudley saw so often in his daughter’s. “We have no time to waste.”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | 2019-10-16T10:37:03 | 2019-10-16T09:59:29 | 5,916 | 793 |
[WP] In the galactic community, humans aren't seen as the most chaotic or creative. Rather, compared to other species, they're seen as a cold emotionless, highly logical species. Humans find that absolutely baffling. | The AI responded in an according fashion. "If you say so. My research on the subject tells me that that much for human consumption is... Well, excessive."
"It could be for a party."
"No, I looked up the order from my fellow operating systems. It's just for her."
"...Look I just think it shouldn't be a problem. If she wants to eat 30 kilos of vanilla pudding, that's her prerogative."
Delivery ships like this were common in local star systems anymore. And in classic fashion, it only made sense that mankind was one of the first species happy to jump to such an opportunity. Now, years later, despite their personal issues, it wasn't uncommon to find them shipping around parts of the Milky Way.
Early hadn't exactly been the quickest study Dakante had ever hired. But once he got the hang of things, he'd become a rather well recommended member of the crew. Specifically with their routing. They'd had shortened down their average delivery times by 15 percent. Great results on a ship-to-ship basis.
The reason being was actually kind of complex. There were a lot of factions in space that rarely if ever agreed with each other. Humans fascinated Dakante for their abilities to connect with so many. Granted, they could easily be some of the sweetest, kindest people you'd ever meet. Or easily some of the most cruel and horrifying.
He assumed that had to be it. But it wasn't always easy to know what they were thinking. They're actually rather cold. Solitary even. A blank slate, depending on the person.
So when the latest delivery to a pirate outpost involved 15 large packs of this odd Human confection Early had mentioned: The order was completed without a hitch. There were no arguments or taunts or anything inflammatory. If anything, his arrival seemed to confuse everyone present for the sake of his willingness to stop by.
"I can't understand you."
"Hmm?"
"There's no fear. Well at least none I can sense. You go to all these odd places. Meet people I and most on the ship can't or won't, and then we're off. At a good pace too. How?"
"People want what they want." Early chuckled. "We're not moving anything dangerous or illegal from what I know. At least right now. Unless there's something about cakes and pies I'm not aware of."
"What's that thing you lot worry about from time to time? Dia-what is it again?"
"I mean, yeah if you eat too much stuff like that, but no. That's. That's normal."
Dankante's skin flushed a pale blue, an indicator that his race had more perplexed feelings, or so Early has struggled to learn.
"But seriously. I have a simple reason. It could be worse."
"Worse?"
"Well?" Early spun, "We could be running contraband we don't know about. Get arrested. Go straight to jail. There could be a issue with the ship. Something go wrong, 'poof', we die-"
"-Not good."
"-We have something weird happen, fall into a gas giant or something. Our AI catches malware..."
"Don't say that." The AI agreed.
"I could get a subpoena." Early considered.
"What's that?"
"Nothing. Look, we give people what they want, and go about our happy way. Makes sense, right?"
Dakante returned to a normal skin tone as he considered the truth of that statement. His employee had a good point.
"Yes. It could be worse."
"Exactly." Early mentioned as he looked at their next order in the cargo hold. "...That's a lot of bananas."
Dakante "Yeah, there's this weird thing in Sector-6 where they have a festival with- You know what, I'll let you see for yourself. It'll be funnier that way."
---
Characters being logical. That's a start for me lmao r/Jamaican_Dynamite | Hetra Torric disengaged from the galactic net in surprise, carapace arching with electrical currents. Tendrils of plasma swirled around its body, flashing through the electromagnetic spectrum twice before the Leonid controlled its emotions and meekly peeked an eye back through the net portal.
Torric had been perusing the frontiers of knowledge; flying virtually between newly initiated planets as their flows of information steadied and allowed for neural networking, when it had come upon a system almost bereft of original content. In fact, what should have been a beautifully diverse web was instead populated by endless repetition of very similar ideas. Even just dipping into the local net’s surface made the nodes on Torric’s body spark and jitter with unease. Cautious but curious, the Leonid accessed a net archive on the history of this particular system.
There were four terrestrial and four Jovian worlds, all of which had manifested forms of life. However, only one world had blossomed with intelligence. The sparse report showed that it had done so very recently in galactic standard time, within the last half-cycle, but there had been attempts earlier. An aquatic native species had first tried, without much success, to link with the net almost two cycles prior.
The currently dominant species were primates; not much was known about them save for their lack of mental cohesion and the fact they’d just joined the net. Torric decided to explore this strange landscape and become a sort of authority on these ‘Humans’. Opening a local net directory, the Leonid settled on a category labeled ‘Saturday Night Live Skits, Best Of’.
After several galactic hours and several more forced breaks from the net portal, Torric was left with more questions than answers. The ancient being had seen much of this spiral of the galaxy, and from what it had now learned of humans, they were cold, heartless creatures for the most part, utterly devoid of humor or empathy. Admittedly, a few seemed to rise to the level of a Thalorpian or a Geta’svaayan in terms of artistic prowess or compassion, but this was exceedingly rare. Most of the species seemed utterly bent on destruction and consumption. It seemed that the ascension to an interplanetary way of life had not changed their animalistic natures, merely led them to devour information and ideas like they had previously done with others on their home world.
Torric performed the ritual that would close the net portal, resolving to approach central authority with a report detailing its concerns about this species. A report that would include more research into this ‘Stefon’ fellow and his frightening endeavors around major metropolitan areas. | 2021-11-17T13:32:50 | 2021-11-17T12:27:48 | 130 | 51 |
[WP] You are a time traveler. While traipsing about in the past you stumble upon something that shouldn't be there: an open Wi-Fi network. | The date on my mobile phone read August 6, 1945. For a moment I just stared at it in confusion. Then, as it hit me, I could feel the color draining from my face.
“What the hell are you thinking, Akimoto? Rule number one of time travel! You drop that thing, someone finds it, we’re all screwed.”
I looked up into John’s dirt streaked face. He was my security on this jump.
I spun the phone around and handed it to him like it was hot.
“The date is updated,” I said, “It says today is August 6, 1945.”
“Well that is that’s right, isn’t it?” He was as confused as I’d been a moment ago. I could see on his face he knew something was wrong, he just had not figured it out yet.
“It should still say March 9, 2087, the day that we left,” I said. “How does it know to update?”
I watched the realization creep across his face. When John looked up his skin had turned the color of ash.
“Why…” He paused and swallowed. “Why are you connected to Wi-Fi?”
I snatched the phone from his hand, almost dropping it. The icon in the top left was filled up. Three bars, that’s a better connection than I get in my living room.
How was there Wi-Fi in the middle of a Japanese forest in 1945?
My finger shook as I pressed the icon to check the name of the network.
In plain letters, it read, Welcome to the Infinite Web. | "What are you even accessing out here? The internet won't even be invented until decades from now."
"Hey man, I just thought it'd be funny. Also it was one of the easier ways to get my drone to pair with my laptop. Lay off."
"People like you are the reason time travel sucks nowadays."
"People like you are the reason it's always sucked." | 2017-08-24T05:03:02 | 2017-08-24T01:07:31 | 77 | 40 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. WMDs. | It was a tired, overused trope by now, canonized in hundreds of years of entertainment media: Humans winning wars against all odds and surprising the overconfident Big Bad Aliens who never expected them to bite back. A trope. For stories. Not something that happened in reality.
Our first contact went well enough. We’d launched a 30-year unmanned mission to [Sedna](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/90377_Sedna), a dwarf planetoid in orbit around the sun that never came closer than triple Neptune’s distance from the sun--really, almost a speck of dust on the lens of our most powerful telescopes. It had a weird orbit, though, and some billionaire (whose name is lost to the annals of time) with a hair up his ass about space exploration decided to finance the mission to investigate it.
We slung a ton of metal covered in instruments at this speck of dust in the sky, because we were curious, and it’s what we do--fly out there, take some pictures, drop an impactor on the surface, and see what we can see. We’d done it to dozens of other bodies in the Solar System by that point, and this was no different other than the mission length.
We slung a ton of metal at a planet… and we missed. When the probe got close enough to make its final adjustment burns for the flyby… Sedna moved. It MOVED. We managed to turn towards it and get some pictures as our probe zoomed past, and what we saw changed everything.
Within a week, the entire planet knew something was happening, because Sedna lit up like a miniature sun and became the brightest star in the sky… and it didn’t take long for scientists to discover that it was lit up like that because its orbit was slowly adjusting; the calculated trajectory getting lower and lower by the day. Within a month, the trajectory crossed Earth’s orbit and abruptly Sedna was dark again.
It still took Sedna decades to get to Earth, of course, but the damage was done. The debate raged on about What It All Meant, and eventually, we decided to greet whomever it was in peace, reasoning that beings who have achieved interstellar travel could probably crush us into dust. That’s how, in a scant 75 years, we became members of a galactic community, known for our skills as diplomats, peacemakers, and savvy trading--especially for new technologies.
It was 75 years of unparalleled peace and prosperity on the old dirt ball. With so many opportunities and resources available off planet, we were able to put aside our warlike ways. For the length of a single human lifetime, there was no war. It couldn’t last, and it didn’t.
For all their alien appearance, the 17 other species we’d met so far in the galactic community were surprisingly human. They squabbled over territory, butted heads over philosophical differences, and generally got along. Military engagements were brief and limited in scope, because most of the political bodies had roughly equal armament and fleets.
As the new kids on the block, we were significantly weaker than everyone else, and that 75 year mark was the moment that one of the alien species--the ones who were piloting the ship we thought was Sedna--decided to assert its superiority over the human race and suborn us to their will.
They hit us with one of their brief and limited military engagements, expecting us to roll over and give them what they wanted… and we did, for a while, quietly mourning the deaths of the millions that had died so unexpectedly to the weapons of an ostensible friend.
Then the time came to hit back, and that’s when human beings discovered that even a lifetime of peace can’t breed the war out of our species. It took us about 10 years to develop our weapon, using nothing but Einstein’s cold equations and the substance we’d labored to create by the ton once given the secret of manufacturing it: antimatter.
In our distant past, we feared the heart of the atom and its awesome destructive power, but our most powerful nuclear bombs were a spark falling onto ice when compared with the simple expedient of crashing a bunch of anti-hydrogen into a bunch of normal hydrogen. And just like in that distant past, it only took two bombs to stop all the fighting.
The homeworld of those aliens, once a verdant green and blue, still glows red from the sleet of hard radiation that pounded its surface the day we detonated those bombs in its atmosphere. We killed every living thing on that planet and heated it into a ball of magma, and they were entirely unprepared for such an onslaught.
We’re not the new kids on the block anymore, and we’ve gone back to being the diplomats and peacemakers. We speak softly, but the big stick is always there if it’s ever needed again. | Steady and quietly the holographic projector hummed as the white star chart floated centrally in the war room. The unity's warships already encroaching on our solar arm as I placed my palms firmly overly eyes. Dammit, we should have been more ready for this if it wasn't for the damn budget cuts. Carefully I return my gaze toward the projection as I am finally moved from my stupor, "Admiral, what are your orders?"
The attendant's voice cutting through that lingering haze of despair from the nearby terminal. Its soft light casting a red tint over the enlisted corporal as I readied myself for what was to come. My glare remaining on the enemy fleet as I gave the order, this is all their fault. "Activate war plan Armageddon and rally the fleets at the core pass."
Its titanic weight dwarfing the small system defense fleet stationed on the horizon of the black hole. In all likelihood, these brave soldiers will be slaughtered if Armageddon isn't deployed. "Affirmative sir, all sleeper cells have been activated and the dead hand is active in twenty-five mikes."
The tremor in the stalwart soldier going unnoticed as count down from twenty-five minutes starts. That formidable fleet still encroaching closer by the second as the two fleets practically skim the black hole. "As soon as it is ready, cook those alien bastards alive, now get me an open communication line to the enemy fleet."
An unnatural chill finally crawling up my spine as I light a fresh cigar and fix my red beret. A single bronze five-pointed star gleaming in the dull light of the room. The unlit panel powering up as I take a deep breath and pull from my first five years of service. This is it a hundred years has led to this moment let's make the old warlords proud. "The line is open sir."
The dull figure of the enemy admiral flickers into life its monologue already muted as I address the invader. Its jagged form towering over the other species scattered across the enemy bridge. "Attention alien bastards, your empire's time is near its end prepare for total war there will be no mercy, end transmission."
Within seconds the communication link has shattered the motes of the enemy drifting back into place. That thin red timer nearing the last thirty seconds as the two fleets near each other the nuclear payload already in flight. It's quick far too short as the swarm as the cloud of warheads hit their mark vaporizing the tightly packed enemy armada. Leaving a cloud of twisting debris radiation falling into the horizon of the black hole.
With a snap of my right finger, the star chart expands over the enemy empire. Hundreds of previously blinking solar systems now bathed in a pale green glow. Only a token few of those worlds remaining as the main fleet arrives at the rally point. Those token few planets and starbases are the final survivors, survivors are liabilities and future opponents at worst.
Slowly I let out a long puff of smoke from my cigar the embers drifting among the ruined worlds. A dull hacking cough breaking the silence as the death toll rises across the now uninhabitable abyss of radioactive planets. Morality is a dangerous commodity, and it is certainly a hindrance as I give the order.
The small part of my soul screaming in anguish as the fleets merge over that damn graveyard. "Tell the fleet to mop up any remaining enemy holdings I don't want them pulling the same trick on us. No survivors, not even the children can live if we want to tie up all the loose ends."
*The ancestors would weep if they could see the nightmare I have become.* | 2021-07-04T18:36:34 | 2021-07-04T11:05:37 | 197 | 92 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all! | My phone rang for the third time in 10 minutes. I made a mental note to change the ringtone to something less patriotic and swiped up on the little green icon.
"John! Mate I've been trying to get through for ages!" came a frantic voice down the phone.
"Oh, well sorry Barry..." I lied, "it must've been on silent" I lied again.
"No, no, it's okay. But we have a problem here! You know that stuff you wrote? The stuff for the admin thing? You know it right? Well it's broken and we don't know what to do! I tried opening it in excel and it can't read it!"
I sighed. This was not an unexpected call, but also it was a call I was no longer paid to deal with.
"Barry, look. I modernised all our internal software, it's a bit of python and it automates everything we used to do manually. It's probably just that a feed from the outer guard posts is stuck and needs... Well, it needs sorting out really."
"But HOW John? No-one here can program! Shit, Sam can't even plug in his mouse half the time, Vicki's great for physical combat but not one for numbers, and Ash wouldn't even notice if he didn't get paid in a year, dopey prick."
"Barry, His Royal fucking Highness Prince fucking Ezra decided in his infinite wisdom that I could be spared in the restructuring of the guard. If you have a problem I'm afraid that either you're gonna want to rehire me and hope to whatever sad Gods you worship that I feel like taking it on, or you pay my contractor fees. Take that to the Prince and remind him, preferably with a fist, that when choosing people to get rid of, sysadmins should not be top of the list."
I hung up, infuriated, but pleased. That had been a long time coming and damn did it feel good. But something didn't quiiiiite sit right with me. I hit redial.
" John? What...?"
" And tell him I want an office cat."
*Click* | The old king and I were pretty close friends. I introduced him to most of the playmates within his harem. Comprised of but not limited to Vicky Vallencourt & Suzy Crabgrass. Some nights, we’d play uno together. He knew I would let him win and for me? Honestly. I liked it. He could see how I liked it so... no longer was I there to please his majesty, I was there for me. Someone who had the keys not to the Royal palace, but to his own character. Had the king been not of royal blood he would of admired this in me- instead I was merely found amusing which never quite sat well with me. And now? I think that may be all I’ll ever have been. For, there’s nothing to be of me now. Not without him. | 2021-02-28T04:16:00 | 2021-02-28T01:37:57 | 315 | 14 |
[WP] Write a story where each sentence has one more word than the last.
The first sentence has to be one word, the next has two, etc. Stop whenever you want! | Time. Not enough. One more day. Just one more day. I just need one more. Just give me one more day. Is that too much to ask for? I can’t stand thinking this is it. I won’t be able to see her again? Please dear God, just give me one more day.
Just give me one more day to hold her close. Just give me one more day to hear her say “dad”. Just give me one more day to feel her hand in mine. Why did you give her to me just to take her away now? Why would you inflict her with cancer when she had barely lived her life?
She came into my life burning so bright, completely overtaking my heart and now this. Her flame is being extinguished forever and now I can’t seem to find a reason to live. Please just take my life instead of hers and let her live a full and complete life.
I hurriedly brushed away the tears as the doctors let me back into the room where she lay. I smiled at her and nestled in the bed next to her, squeezing her tight and kissed her forehead. I felt myself dying too as I held her, her head snuggled against my chest as I sang to her. I could feel her tears soaking my shirt and looked down and noticed that her hair was damp from my own. I didn’t bother wasting words telling her not to cry and instead just repeatedly told her how very much I loved her. She died in my arms and I held her until the doctors came in and told me that I had to let go. Eventually I found myself at home and came to realize that the only thing that could help was for me to see her again. I went to my nightstand and took out my gun, breathed deeply and held it against my head and whispered, “Baby, I’ll see you soon.”
| "God." He sighed. "Gotta keep moving." He sat in silence. Everything seemed so utterly futile.
He couldn't stand the silence anymore. He had to keep moving or else. For him to stop now meant certain death. He slowly sat back up, joints aching in protest. Losing strength, his only motivation was the fear of death. How long has it been: 3 days, 3 months, 3 eons? He was losing all sense of time; and, consequently, hope as well. (grammar?)
I'll continue, but I'm on the road for the holiday season. Happy holidays everyone! | 2013-12-23T09:22:10 | 2013-12-23T07:21:18 | 522 | 15 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | "What?!" I sputtered. "How is this possible? What did I *do* to get that?!"
Satan put down the book of sentencing with an exasperated sigh and said, "Look kid, I don't make the punishments, the big guy only makes me hand them out as part of my parole." Seems he was used to saying this.
"B-but *how*? How did-"
Satan rolled his eyes. "Because the real Hell is more Aligherian, and not anything like that rat bastard Milton wrote. Joke's on him, I got him in the sixth circle for heresy."
"That's nice and all, but I meant what did *I* do to end up here? I just don't get it."
"It says here that you've committed some 7,500 cases of murder in your lifetime, and remarkably young, I might add. I'm impressed."
My jaw dropped even lower. "B-b-b-b-but I've never killed anything larger than a squirrel, and even that was an accident!"
Satan pauses before looking at the book a bit closer, and letting out a chuckle that sounded like nails on a blackboard. "I think I know what happened. It's like in... shit, what's the name?" He flipped through the tome and picked up a black phone sitting by the desk. "Operator? Circle six, tier three, prisoner GAC-19891004. Hey Graham, what was the name of your show again? Thanks." He set down the phone and redirected his gaze back toward me. "It's like in that show, Monty Python."
I was confused more than anything else. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You know their movie with the musical number *Every Sperm is Sacred*?"
I paused. What would that have to do with me?
"Well turns out they got the doctrine right, purely by accident. And guess what you've been doing five days a week since eigth grade?"
Then that would mean- *no*.
"Oh, *God*."
"Yeah, he's not gonna help you with this one." | The being loomed other me. It's foul breath still lingered in the air from it's spoken judgment on me. Just a second ago I had been suffocated by the heat, now my body ran cold. I could feel the icy sweat trickling down my lower back.
"Wait. What? Let me get this straight. That asshole get 145 years for cheating on his wife," pointing to the man now being lead away by an imposing scaled creature to his almost century and a half of punishment.
"One hundred and fucking forty-five years! For breaking a holy bond made before God. You know, the whole 'Forsaking all others, 'tll death do you depart' shit. But me! No, I get a fucking 186,292 years for cursing!"
I could see another one of the scaled creatures coming toward me out of the corner of my eye.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me." | 2018-09-26T08:43:26 | 2018-09-26T07:45:11 | 77 | 18 |
[WP] When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the toss correctly, you are allowed to keep living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You've been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pretty pissed. | "Have you ever considered, you know, doing something with your lives Seamus?" Death sat next to me in the pub, taking a swig of his pint.
"What do you mean!? I've finally perfected the brew, can't you taste how amazing this is? I have it on good authority that it's the best in the universe!"
"Seamus, you perfected this brew well over a century ago. Yes, it's the best beer in history, but surely there's still more you can do. I mean, it's gotta be divine intervention right? Nobody is supposed to win the coin toss. 235 fucking times Seamus. That's how many in a fucking row that you've won. Don't you think maybe you're genuinely mean to be doing something with all this time instead of sitting here getting blitzed? You don't even get any fucking customers out in the goddamn middle of nowhere except Joe in the corner there!"
At the mention of his name, the little old white bearded man in the corner roused himself just enough to look up from his half gone pint for a moment, mutter something unintelligible, and then seemingly go back to sleep.
Seamus, glanced over at Joe "Oi, don't be knocking Joe. He's been my loyal customer for years now, and he knows the true value of my brew."
Death had stopped all the theatrics centuries ago. He showed up in the modern dress of Ireland these days. Neither he nor Seamus could fake an accent to save their lives, but may as well blend in. He had last been at the pub 80 years ago when it was new, and 95 years before that at the tavern in Britain. Always whenever he came to visit "Seamus" was in his personal drinking establishment, serving up his same brew. Nothing ever changed with him, not even the result of the coin toss.
Death swigged down the last of the pint, it really was beyond compare. He'd been all over the world, through all the years, and he'd still never had a brew as good. Seamus was right, he really had perfected it.
"Welp, I got work to do, you know the rules, you get to call it, I get to flip it."
Seamus gargled "heads" through a sip of his drink.
Death used to think he was cheating. He knew it wasn't possible, but still, death couldn't figure out how to recreate that beer, so maybe Seamus had other secrets. Even so, it never mattered what Seamus called. Death tossed the coin in every way he possibly knew. It always came up in Seamus' favor. So this time was no surprise either. The coin landed, death swiped it up, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door.
"92 years, 84 days, 8 hours. I'll see you then."
"Oh aye laddy. Sounds grand. I'll have your drink waiting for you." Seamus said in his awful fake accent.
After death had left, Seamus went over to sit with his only other patron. The only patron he would ever need for all time.
"Thanks again Joe, guess I get to keep on brewing for you for another 92 years!"
Jehova looked up from his beer with a big smile.
"It really is the best in the universe!"
Edit:
Jesus! that blew up pretty thoroughly! I really appreciate all the compliments. Makes me feel good about taking the time to write it! | “You know, in all the times you’ve come to meet me you’ve never once told me what would happen once you’ve actually taken my soul.”
The woman sitting across from him remained expressionless, not a single feature on her smooth sun-kissed face changed, nor did a single dark hair resting gracefully on her shoulders move. “I’ve told you before Alexander, I’m not allowed to reveal that to anyone.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He’d lived many lives, gone by many names. He’d created empires and destroyed them, done great things and horrible things, created great marvels and prevent progress on others. Persia, America, Russia, he’d influenced them all, and yet it wasn’t enough.
“If you told me I might be more inclined to waive my right to this little coin toss you know.”
As with everything he said, the woman showed no reaction. “While our little meetings are beginning to wear on my nerves, no one escapes me. Greater men than you have all come with me eventually, even those who the rest of the world called gods take my hand eventually. I am the one certainty in this universe.”
He knew it was true. The world always showed subtle signs when a god lost their toss to her, but he did like to consider himself a bit more clever than their lot had ever been. “Ah well, hand me the coin please.”
She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small copper coin and dropped it into his open palm. When it finally reached him, it smashed his hand into the table, the symbol of the closed-door face up.
“What nonsense is this? I can’t even lift this coin! How am I supposed to flip it?”
The woman smirked at him, the first expression he’d ever seen grace her face in the hundreds of times they’d met, and the sudden terror that filled him made him regret ever wanting to see her change it.
“That is not a problem I have to address. All I am now required to do is wait here in this frozen moment of time until you flip the coin or agree to come with me, and I am a very patient woman.”
-------------------------
My first time, thanks for comments! | 2016-09-23T09:14:52 | 2016-09-23T08:57:47 | 2,418 | 196 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | It all happened so fast. I was going into town for a shovel. Earlier that day I'd broken one digging a drain trench out behind the barn.
Now I was sitting at a table in a room with a long mirror along the wall. The kind you see in a cop movie where they are shaking down a suspect.
Oh fuck. I'm a suspect. But for what. I barely leave the farm.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way", and middle aged man in a suit was entering the room . He had a briefcase and a tablet. Closely behind him was another man. He appeared to be some high ranking military officer.
"Umm I really don't......." I was cut off.
"Don't play dumb with us James. You have to know why you're here." he was clearly annoyed with me.
Then it hit me. Dad's brother Pete spends a lot of time up in the back corner of the farm at the edge of the forest and he always smells like weed.
"That mother fucker! Listen, it was dad's brother. He's always up there. If you're looking for the weed he's the guy you want! " My voice was starting to crack, I was scared as hell.
"We don't care about the weed, we found that about an hour ago" The military man took the tablet from the suit.
"It's the global calculated rankings son." he was swiping his finger over the screen. "This showed up on the new rankings section at 8:43 this morning!"
He slid the tablet across the table. A new page was displayed on the screen. Only one entry was on the list.
\*\*New Category\*\*
\*\*05/04/2019\*\*
\*\*Most Extraterrestrial Invaders Killed Or Defeated\*\*
1. James Marshall (1 Kill)
​
​
The suit looked a little angry but now he mostly looked scared.
"We just want some insight into what we might be up against"
​
The only problem was.
I had no idea.
EDIT: wow. I’m really blown away by the response to this. Thanks so much everyone.
I really had intended to leave it at that but I do have an idea where it’s going. If I like where it goes I’ll continue. | From thousands of absolutely useless categories I reached rank #1 in only one of them. It was something, but some people still had their place on several lists. They were raised to lead. I was not. I found myself as a person who did the longest yawn of all time. I felt something weird. There was so many people trained to be a champion and I reached their goal accidentally.
Amazing feeling to meet anybody who was even close to touch TOP 3 in anything, in this moment I realized. Those people, all of them, where looking at me not because I’ve done something special. They just could met somebody, who succeed in their pathetic rankings.
For me it’s not life I want to live. It doesn’t really matter. I mean those rankings. Everything which has any value is on my ranch with my family, where I am not special because of my place in a table, but because of person I am.
(I’m sorry for all mistakes. English is my second language I still improve, but I couldn’t resist to write it because theme is absolutely wonderful.) | 2019-05-04T11:15:23 | 2019-05-04T10:20:17 | 6,214 | 108 |
[WP] "The light can never go out," explained the old lighthouse operator. "Ships don't need us. Haven't in quite some time. It's the people here on land who'll suffer if that light ever goes out." | "The light can never go out," explained the old lighthouse operator. "Ships don't need us. Haven't in quite some time. It's the people on land who'll suffer if that light ever goes out."
"So what exactly makes the light," I asked, curiously. "I'm a relative stranger to the area. The town sent me here when I mentioned settling in the area."
"Well," Vera, the old operator said, patting the lighthouse with a wrinkled and liver spotted hand. "The old lady has had quite a few sources of power over the years, and still does. Come on in and I'll show them to you."
I followed the old woman into the giant lighthouse. The inside of the lighthouse wasn't anything like I'd pictured it. The inside was mostly hollow, filled with steel beams and gratings instead of stone, like I'd pictured. Tool marks on the walls showed where stone floors and stairs had been chipped out. The lighthouse must have been close to ten stories tall, and I discovered, standing on the landing, that it went down almost as far as it went up. The old lady tapped my arm, getting my attention, and gestured to a graphic pinned to a corkboard.
"Listen up, sonny. What was your name again? Larry? Leonard? Leroy?"
"Lester," I replied, mildly embarrassed. "Call me Les."
"Well, Les," she continued. "This here is the schematic for the old lady. After them politicians called down that there Scorched Earth protocol on them outer space thingies, some of them army lads came in and retrofit the old lady. Since we can't see the sun anymore, they set up artificial ones to keep us alive." She pointed to parts of the schematic as she talked.
"Now, down here in the lower levels, you'll want to take readings, but don't touch nothin' unless you get the mechanics or electricians in first. There's manuals down there to help, but I couldn't read nothin' in 'em. We got a couple of power sources down there depending on what storms we got coming in. Natural gas is the lowest level, with our emergency diesels one level up. The mini nuke plant is on basement two, and we have our belt driven wind turbines up here on the ground floor. Generators and their breakers are on each floor with the machines, all logical like them army boys like to be, so I reckon you'll be running floors from time to time." She continued, pointing at the other floors.
"Now from here on up, that's where the lights are at. First floor is the spotlights with the automatic turret thingies them army boys installed. All you gotta do is keep the hoppers filled with bullets. The spotlights and turrets keep stuff away from the lighthouse. The second floor is mostly storage and emergency housing for when the town evacuates. Third floor through fifth floors are the sunlamps for the fields around the base of the tower. Sixth floor is living quarters, seventh is the radio room, computers, and radar, and eighth is the backup for the sun floor. Ninth floor is the sun floor. Don't ever go in there when it's on, or you'll fry. It provides light to the town and for navigation. Tenth floor is for defense."
"Um," I said hesitantly. "What exactly are we defending against?" I jumped as an alarm went off. The old lady sprinted for an elevator I hadn't noticed, and I barely made it in before the doors closed.
The elevator rocketed up the tower, and I barely saw the 10 on the indicator before the doors were open and we ran out, into a room set up like some sort of air defense turret from hell. Crates of artillary shells were stacked to the ceiling, ten feet up, and power cables snaked up through holes in the floor to some sort of anti-aircraft laser of some sort. The old lady ran out a door to an open platform and jumped into the seat of the most insane looking gun I'd ever seen. The seat and gun were all mounted on hydraulics, and the gun itself seemed like it was closer to two or three guns and a couple of rocket launchers. The center gun looked like a three barreled howitzer or something. Mounted above it was some high tech laser gun, and mounted to either side, it looked like box frames with rockets. The old lady appeared to be aiming by a computer screen that looked like it probably hooked up to a camera on the front of the guns.
I looked to the sky as the swarm of nightmarish winged creatures flapped towards us........ | "We don't let the light go out. Ever. None of the lighthouses do."
"Because of hope?"
"The light is blindingly bright. Perhaps not literally, but it serves a particular kind of blindness. Call it hope. I call it waiting. You just do what you need to do." The old man strapped on an oversized pair of goggles and proffered a pair to his student. She put them on. "Once you've got those on, it'll be hard to see until we get upstairs. I'll lead you up. You'll learn the layout soon enough. I'm not worried. Take my arm."
She put out her arm. He led her up the broad turn of the staircase.
The room came into view. It was full of light. The center was the lamp, though technically it was called the transmission complex, or TC.
"You see how big this one is?"
"Wow! I thought the one at school was big. This is huge!" She had to keep from shouting. Though the light overwhelmed one of her senses, the room was sedate otherwise. A gentle wind blew in through the few open windows. The TC operated silently. She sipped from her canteen. "This one is so quiet. The one at school had a couple of buzzing noises and a bunch of fans."
"Oh, I know. That one used to be here. We swapped it out about five years back. Had to wait until they were both hooked up before we could take the old one apart. Then we slid the new TC into the center housing. Good thing it doesn't need to actually spin. That would complicate things."
"This place used to be a real lighthouse, didn't it? Sorry, I mean an old fashioned one, for boats."
"Ships. That's what we called big boats, way back."
"Sorry."
"It's alright. I can barely remember. I was only seven. I went on one, once."
"Really? What was like? Did they bounce a lot?"
"I don't think bounce is the right word. They moved slowly up and down, because of the rise and fall of waves."
"Do you think the comet program will work?"
"Might. It's working in the Mediterranean. There's the occasional trail across the sky when they let a smaller chunk go in on its own. And there are clouds again. They say there's plenty out there, and the Maps program has scouted and tracked more than enough candidates. It's just going to take some time."
"I heard there's coral in the Mediterranean again."
"Yeah, latest journal has pictures. They cultivated a huge grid of it. When the time is right, they can transplant to other bodies of water. That's amazing. You've got a lot to look forward to. Let me show you the control panel and then I'll show you the replacement protocol for the small lamp modules. It's easier now with the micromags. They very nearly pop into place themselves!"
"I'd like to go on a boat someday."
"You're young enough. It'll happen. It's an exciting time to be alive." | 2017-02-22T14:37:58 | 2017-02-22T13:48:15 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | "What the fuck" I thought to myself. This job was supposed to be boring, given my... powers. This wasn't supposed to happen.
See, I was a bouncer at a bar. I wasn't the most imposing person but I had a unique trait. I could tell anyone's age without seeing a license. The numbers just kind of floated above their heads. I realized I was special at a young age when I asked my fourth grade teacher, mrs. Jimenez, why the new boy was three years older than all of us. We had to have a special meeting with the counselor and my parents. It freaked them out pretty bad when I was able to tell the counselor that I knew she was seven years older than she said (looking back I think she was trying to start a relationship with one of the younger teachers). It took a couple of years to learn to not notice and just live life but I managed to find a way to use it to my advantage when I got this job.
I streamlined the front door, no wasting time carding people, usually I just stood next to Big Jake (he was a left tackle at the local college and an absolute mountain of a man) and told the underage kids to leave before they wasted our time.
Tonight was terrifying though. We expected a rough crowd once a month when we hosted fight night. It was common practice in rural Midwestern towns, usually one or two bars would set up a ring and let local fighters put on the nights entertainment. Typically fight night made us sell out of pbr and bud light, with exactly the crowd you'd expect. We always had to break up two or three extra curricular fights but it was no big deal to me, I never did the dirty work, I protected our liquor license.
This man terrified me though, four digits were hovering over his head. I leaned into Jake and whispered "something's wrong, ask that guy for I.d." The man didn't look strange, except his hair was straight out of the 80's, mutton chop sideburns and all. He wore a leather jacket over jeans.
The expression on Jakes face was pure confusion. He asked the man and he pulled out a Canadian passport, which was strange. It said he was in his 50s, which was also strange because he didn't look a day over 32. I didn't know what to do so we let him in.
He caused no problems, he came to fight and ended up winning two matches and pocketed 200 bucks, drank two beers and left. He barely said a word. The next day I tried to put him out of my mind. By a week later I had gotten past the shock of it and tried to move on, but the next day life got really strange.
I was home for dinner with my parents when the doorbell rang. They answered and several minutes later my mother shouted for me to come into the sitting room. An old man in a wheelchair was sitting there and behind him stood five people, on of whom was the 1000 year old fighter. I was shaken as the old man began to speak, "hello James, my name is Charles Xavier. I believe you've already met my companion Logan..." | One knows when they're in the presence of something ancient. A turn of phrase, the way their gaze meets yours, the way the air around them hangs, as though to communicate an unspoken form of reverence. Or fear. Simple folk like to trade their wives tales, attempts at justifying the things that exist just outside their conceptions. Makes them feel better.
I wonder what they'd say about me.
But my gift, a paltry glimpse into the age of those who cross my path, is nothing compared to the man- er, woman? Hard to tell after so many years. Anyway. Is nothing compared to the figure who comes, every eight months like clockwork, to visit our humble distillery. The first time I met them I thought, sure. Someone's slipped me something. Just because I can see the age of things doesn't make me immune to tampering. And I've been at this for a few decades.
All this to say, the first time I met the man (at the time) who saved my life, I had difficulty believing he was nearly four-thousand years old.
"Been around a while, then?"
"Oh, I dread to think."
"What brings you 'round the Juicy Jailer then?"
"It really wasn't my decision. Just passing through, I suppose."
"Not much inside worth your time, I'd think."
"Well. You'd be surprised what I find when I'm not looking."
Turned out he was right, as later that evening we learned the distillery had been housing an underground warehouse what took people and stuffed 'em into tin suits. Sy-buh whatitsorsomething' he called them. Made this dreadful, monotonous speech about "upgrading" everyone. But quick as a flash, this man had done them in and cleared out just as quickly as he'd come. I asked for his name, but he gave me his vocation instead. Weird bloke.
But you never can tell with Time Lords, can you?
| 2022-05-25T21:41:20 | 2017-09-01T23:22:02 | 1,321 | 62 |
[WP] You are a mutant in Xavier's school for gifted youngsters with the power to teleport, well that's what you tell everyone. In reality you can pause time and you're not ready to be an omega class mutant. | All the students were getting up to leave class when he heard, "Matthew, might I speak to you for a moment?"
"Of course, Professor."
Professor Xavier had always been kind to him. Matthew long suspected that Xavier knew he was hiding his full potential but the professor never pushed the subject and treated Matthew like all the other students. He liked feeling normal here. His long standing lie was that he could teleport. Whenever they were required to practice their abilities it put Matthew in a tough spot. The teachers were constantly trying to push his limits and get him to teleport further and further. It's tiring having to run such far distances constantly. Yesterday, the teacher had asked him to try to travel to someplace he had previously been. After faking an attempt for an hour or so the teacher finally relented and suggested they take a break.
"Professor Munroe tells me you had a difficult time yesterday. She was worried she might have pushed you too hard and wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I-I'm fine professor. She didn't push too hard. I tried picturing different places but nothing happened. I don't know if I'm able to teleport like that."
"Well, things happen at different paces for everyone. I'm sure you've heard of Kurt by now?"
"Yes, sir."
"When he first came here, he was limited by what he could see as well. He could travel to anywhere in sight, but beyond that, he was too frightened to push himself. It takes extraordinary strength to push limits set by our minds. In time, I'm sure you will be able to overcome anything you set your mind to."
"Thank you professor."
"Matthew, have you made any friends since you started here? I don't see you with the other students very often."
"No sir, I-I think they are frightened of me."
"Why is that?"
"They avoid me, and I hear them saying things about me."
"Teleporting is an enviable gift. I'm sure they will come around in time."
"I guess."
"Matthew, are you sure there isn't something else? You know I would never use my gift on anyone without permission but it doesn't take a mind reader to see that something is bothering you."
"Professor, c-can you keep a secret?"
"Of course, Matthew. Anything you tell me would be kept between us."
Eyes to the floor Matthew said, "I have been lying to you and the other teachers. I can't teleport."
Professor Xaviers remained quiet as if telling Matthew to continue.
"I-I was afraid if you found out what I can do, that you would make me part of your advanced class. I just wanted to feel normal for once. Everyone my whole life has called me a freak and when I got here, I was just another kid. I'm so sorry I lied professor."
"It's okay Matthew. I understand. If I may ask, what is this gift that you were afraid to speak of?"
"It's easier if I show you."
"Lead the way."
The two of them left the office and went into the crowded hallway watching the kids on their way to various classes. Matthew reached over and set his hand on Xaviers shoulder and everyone froze. Turning to Matthew, Xavier said, "Well, it certainly is an extraordinary gift. The ability to freeze time is no small feat. I can't say I've ever met another mutant with this ability, Matthew."
"Are you going to kick me out of the school for lying to you?"
"No, Matthew. I understand why you kept this from us. It is an incredible burden to have control over time. I imagine it can be quite lonely."
Nodding his head Matthew was tearing up a little.
"Matthew, I'm going to keep this between us until you're ready to tell other people. Would you be okay with having private lessons with me once a week to learn to better control this power of yours?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Very good. Bring us back to real time and let us join the rest of the students. It's nearly time for your next class." | When, for all practical purposes, you're a god, life gets interesting. Especially at 14. No one can know, or you will be blamed for everything. If I have all this power, why don't I save everyone? Why is there strife?
I don't know Karen, why'd you scream at that McDonalds worker for giving you five cents wrong in change? It's not *my* fault there's strife, I shouldn't have to fix everything.
Anyway, no one knew, in the life I started across the country from my home. But like I said, I'm fourteen. Not exactly the cautious type, and someone saw me "teleport". Well, that's better than everyone knowing I can freeze all of time while I continue to move, so now here I am. In a class full of mutants, with a head professor who can read minds, lying about my powers.
I've made some friends here. I still don't trust them with the truth, but it's fun to mess about together. We get in trouble a lot, but I also help us avoid trouble sometimes.
Then one day, some asshole decided to fight me. Like, why me? Sure I called your mom a whore, but that's no reason to try to *kill* me, mister knife manipulator.
Anyway, one thing lead to another and now I'm in Xavier's office. I *could* just pause time and leave, but what's the point? I'd let it resume eventually.
Xavier spoke, "Trystan, you're not a teleporter."
"No, sir."
He nods, but smiles at me. "I hoped you would tell me on your own, but your *incident* with Jehovah fast tracked this conversation. I've known since you arrived."
I couldn't speak. If he'd known, why hadn't he said so? Maybe he misunderstands, he thinks I'm just able to pause time temporarily. Yes, maybe I'll get him to stick to that assumption.
"Trystan, I don't need to read your mind to know that whatever you're about to say is a lie. Please, truthfully tell me what you can do."
Crap. Well, might as well. Nothing better to do.
...
Turns out, there was plenty better to do. I'd heard about Xavier's track record with the greater good, I should've just lied. As much as he might have learned his lessons, my power was far too tempting.
...
I was wrong about being a god. Even most of them were bound by time, and the few that weren't were well beneath my power. Eternity sucks, alone.
...
A single mind reached into mine from across infinity, leaving a single phrase in its wake. *The Elder Gods understand. Come to us.*
Edit: Read up on Galactus and realized he didn't fit that last message, changed it. | 2022-11-09T16:36:25 | 2020-07-15T07:04:42 | 9,106 | 33 |
[WP] An Alien and it’s Human sidekick roam the galaxy, willing to do just about any job to keep the fuel tanks full. The only issue - most clients have never seen a Human and they’re terrified by the sight of one.
Cake Day Post!
EDIT: wanted to say thank you to everyone that responded! I’ve been reading your stories on here for years & couldn’t have asked for a better cake day! | "You know I don't like this, Frax." I sighed heavily. It was an old argument. It was a constant argument. Basically a married couples' spat of fifteen cycles. Not that we were married, or in that kind of relationship. Or biologies weren't compatible in that way. But when you spend enough time locked in the same space with them, you turn into a couple of sorts. Like a pair of cats in an apartment.
I had once tried to describe cats to Frax, and like many of Earth's inhabitants, they terrified him. "They have fangs and teeth, and hunt for fun?" he exclaimed. It was hard to explain that fun wasn't the right work, but he had the gist.
Frax and I had met on a mining depot long ago when he was roasted on *trgblts*. His engineer had bailed on him, and he needed someone small to fit into the ships crawlspaces to fix conduit. Being halfblind and high as a kite, he offered me the job. We were halfway accross the parsec before thought to ask about dietary requirements. "Hey what species are you? Planet of origin and all that?"
When I told him, his vestigial eye stalks damn near swung faceforward. "What... you're pulling my rhangstem!?! I thought those were myths."
I could definitely understand that, since the last terran human I had seen was two or three cycles before the depot and that was across the spaceport. We weren't really common after the *incident*. Some sectors had us quarantined, others had us on kill-on-sight status. I passed for a Nravt if I wore the right clothes so I managed to travel fairly inconspicuously.
"Only one more time. I promise. This will be quick. In and out. What could go wrong?" I nodded, caught up in his excitement.
As we docked, I checked my gear and dropped my hood. When the air lock cycled open, I walked in "If any one of you motherf$\^&\*s even think about going for a weapon, I will destroy this spacestation. If you actually reach for it, I will rip of your arms or whatever extensions you have and use those to beat all of your progeny and living family to death. You know what I am. You know what we are capable of. Think it through. Just hand over the product and you will have a story. Fail to think and your *families* will have one to share at your *memorials."* | Before the door was even opened ,the energy was so thick a static arc crackled as the handle touched his hand .
Slowly the large metal door glided along a well oiled track to reveal dim blue flickering lights and the smell of hot transformer oil filled the nostrils.
Stepping into the dim lit room became anxiously difficult as the arching sound of high voltage electrical currents could be heard as well as felt when the small hairs began to stand up along the exposed skin .
Stopping to peer alertly in the direction of where the operation fail safe switch was supposed to be located according the buildings blue prints that now were clenched in the other fisted hand .
Enclosed head to toe in Arcflash gear ,the Fight or Flight instinct was caged inside a vault of training yet raged to be released.
27 steps from the door to the fail safe stop switch. 5 min of oxygen, low light and slick oil soaked floor with live circuits and no source outside the space to stop the power from finding the shortest path to ground.
No JSA ever covered this.thw Job saftey analysis form is useless and when I find out what electrical engineer put that fail safe inside the room ,I am probbly going to need bail money . | 2020-03-05T18:52:52 | 2020-03-05T17:47:27 | 402 | 20 |
[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) | 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?
| "Hey man."
Jason grunted, his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.
"So. Um. Jace. J.C. My man..." He forced a nervous chuckle. "You my man, right?"
Grunt.
"Um. I have something to tell you J-Dog..." He scratched his head and coughed. "So get this man. Yesterday, yeah, I was jus' mindin' my-"
Jason turned in his direction, his face suddenly pale. "God came to me," he whispered. "He told me I a angel. I can fly, brother. I a demon killa, Malcolm..."
Malcolm staggered backward and stared at the floor. It couldn't be. It couldn't. "Jason, you crazy, dog. You craaazy."
Jason said nothing. A solitary tear began to make its way down his cheek.
"I the Devil, man. You don't know what you messing wit. I can kill you if you bad. I can-"
*"BZZZZZ"*
The doors hissed open, and Doctor Matthews strode into the cell, a syringe held tightly in his hand. Malcolm stopped talking.
"Gentlemen," he said, smiling down at them. "It's time for your medication..."
(Feedback always appreciated!)
r/samfoxstories | 2018-02-05T09:59:11 | 2018-02-05T08:45:42 | 36 | 22 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | Between his teeth, he drew his breath in sharply; a wordless exclamation of the pain. Putting aside the knitting, he rose from the chair to find something to dress the small wound.
It was between the living room and the kitchen he came to the realisation that blood which should have come from the small prick, had not.
He held his finger with his opposing hand and saw what looked like viscous oil smeared upon his finger. At first he thought in confusion he'd stained his finger with something unknown, but in realisation he knew it to be his own blood.
He squeezed the wounded finger, and a something as thick as molasses, and just as dark welled up. Slowly. Grudgingly. Deeply sinister in it's just being, despite the simple nature of what it was.
In days that came after, he thought of it. He thought *only* of it. That couldn't be his blood. He had been raised by a righteous family that had taught him how to be a good man in a society where there were few left. He had followed no hedonistic pursuits, done charitable deeds, and tried as best possible to follow the actions of his father, and the advice of his mother.
He was a good man, that couldn't have been his blood, yet there it was.
The fifth day after he gave in to his overwrought anxiety and curiosity. He cut his thigh where it would be hidden. There it was. The oil that was his blood, so thick it needed to be coaxed from the wound with pressure.
He knew there would be one place where he might find answers, but also judgement. The Temple.... | Turns out following the rules of god was the wrong way..
Turns out following the Bible to a t, never wearing cotton, the whole fish thing was wrong..
That woman who was dying I couldn’t touch her,
Turns out slaves where bad...
Turns out cutting my wife’s hands off was evil..
I needed a moment
| 2018-08-04T09:46:21 | 2018-08-04T09:44:59 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] Getting tired of always being called upon when the police deem a case un-solvable, you take up a 9 to 5 job. You use your brilliant deductive skills to attempt to make sales and upset almost every customer who speaks to you. You are Sherlock Holmes, used car salesman.
Edit: This sub never ceases to amaze me! I've read every contribution so far and they have exceeded what I ever expected to read! Keep em coming!
Edit 2: The stories have kept coming and they are all very consistently amazing. All your plotlines have brightened my day and not a single one has failed to make me smile. | "Mr Evans, I'm glad you're here. My lunch is shortly due and I should like to have you out of my hair."
"Hold on," Mr Evans said. "I didn't tell you my name..."
"No, but my manager spoke it before he ended his call with you this morning."
"Were you on the line?" Asked Mr Evans. "How could you possibly have known it was me?"
"Of course I wasn't on the line. So far this morning there have been appointments with women, and only women. I made the assumption that the one meeting scheduled with a man, a certain 'Mr Evans', would correspond to the one man that stands before me now. Remind me, Mr Evans, did I tell you about my lunch?"
"Yes Mr uh..."
"Holmes"
"Yes Mr Holmes, you did"
"Wonderful," said Holmes. "Now which car are you to be test driving?"
"Isn't it rather presumptuous to assume I will be test driving anything?" Asked Mr Evans.
"Perhaps, if it were anyone else. But, Mr Evans, you see I noticed you are running a minor sweat - nothing much, don't worry, no one else will notice. Also, you have clips around your jeans, of course to protect from a chain. Mr Evans, you cycled here," said Holmes triumphantly.
"And what," replied Evans flatly, "does that have to do with test driving?"
"Precisely nothing, in and of itself," said Holmes. "But seeing as you are carrying a pair of driving gloves in your pocket, Mr Evans, it rather betrays your intentions."
Mr Evans looked down to see the ends of his gloves poking out from his pocket. "Now I don't know what kind of salesman you think you a-" he began, but Holmes raised an impatient hand.
"Mr Evans," he said decisively, "do I need to remind you once more about my lunch? Or will you stop wasting both of our time?"
"Well... I suppose I..."
"No need for explanations, Mr Evans. Here are the keys to the BMW."
"But I didn't tell you or your manager what car I would test drive, how did you know I wanted to drive the BMW?"
"Perhaps its because each of your last four cars have been BMWs, Mr Evans," said Mr Holmes waving a bundle of confidential financial documents. "Oh don't look at me like that," said Holmes, "your wife provided them to me. She was in here last week you know. Seemed more keen on the Mercedes, though of course the model was rather tacky, if you ask me - rather like your wife I am afraid, Mr Evans."
"What did you just say, Holmes?"
"I rather like your wife, I said."
"Hmph" replied Mr Evans. "You are welcome to her."
"As I suspected," said Holmes. "You clearly tire of your wife, Mr Evans. It is clear in the way you seek a new car - some misguided refreshment, as it were; it is clear in the way you have recently taken up cycling, for you are undoubtedly in far better shape than your partner - is it that you intend to find another woman? No. Don't answer that. In any case, even a blind man could see in perfect clarity, that when a husband and wife enter the same car dealership on separate days, seeking separate cars, then they are not on speaking terms. If I were you Mr Evans, I would take the BMW, and if you were feeling kind, gift the bicycle to your estranged wife. I fear she rather needs it. Ah yes," said Holmes. "I almost forgot. The key..."
Unable to speak, and mouthing a hapless 'o' shape with his mouth, Mr Evans received the BMW key, and stumbled out of the office.
"The manager will accompany you," Holmes called through the doorway. He smiled to himself, and opened up his lunchbox.
| "I just can't seem to get this job out of the ground, Watson."
"Gee, no shit Sherlock."
"Do people just not appreciate having the barest of facts laid about them? I'd pay a good sum to have someone 'dish the truth' about me."
"People don't exactly like being told their mums died painfully in cancer-filled sleep."
"It was a seventeen-year old girl, John. She'll get over it."
"Oh yeah, get over cancer! Pfft. And how much did you make on that sale, exactly? Two-thousand quid?"
"Err. She poured iced water on me and walked away."
"So you got off easy then, didn't you?"
"Screw you John, at least my wife didn't take my house in the divorce."
"Oh bugger off you deep-voiced, curly-haired prick."
"Ooh, funny story about curly-haired prick. See, there were these two men. Two lovely gentlemen, who wanted to buy this American motorcycle. A Harley."
"How'd you piss them off."
"See, I could deduce from the way one of them, Andy, was looking at the other, that he felt a strong sense of intimacy based on eye-contact and distance of standing."
"I see. And the other one?"
"The other one, Joseph, was feeling a bit nervous for some reason. He was fiddling around with his thumbs and didn't seem at all interested on my brief speech about the Harley's... car-bits. Kept looking at Andy in these weird half-glances and stammered when they spoke."
"Car-bits."
"Shut up. So, I'd thought I helped Joseph get over his little hurdle so I can bump the price up a tad bit for good measure. I told him that we were accepting of his reluctance and that we were all friends here..."
"You did not."
"... And that whatever choice in sexual partners he'd like to have, he would not be judged by any of the twenty-other potential buyers, including myself and ESPECIALLY Andy, in the lot that day, nor his family when he has the gall to tell them."
"Oh my god."
"Whoops."
"You fucking outed a homosexual."
"Two. I outed two. Also, Andy was actually bisexual based on the way he was eyeing an Essex girl's bum while I was off with some old boring fart."
"Jesus- HOW ARE YOU NOT SACKED YET?!"
"Because I'm Sherlock Fucking Holmes and the world revolves around me. Elementary, my dear Watson!"
"... Fuck my life, I'm rooming with a moron."
"Yes, a moron who just happens to be the smartest man who's ever lived."
"I didn't know Mycroft was moving in." | 2015-07-30T11:31:18 | 2015-07-30T09:34:25 | 77 | 46 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I wake to my phone buzzing on the night stand. I look at the clock next to it. The green numbers shine brightly: 3:14 AM.
'What the hell?' I think to myself. 'Why is anyone texting me at 3 in the morning?'
Before I can take a look, it starts buzzing again. And again. It won't stop. I grab the phone and mute it quickly but the notifications continue to pop up silently. "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." They're texts coming from my mother, my friends, my siblings, even some numbers I don't recognize.
An unfamiliar alarm blares on my phone. A new notification pops up on my phone, titled US Government Emergency Alert. It reads "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON."
'This is weird,' I think to myself, 'What the hell could be wrong with the moon?'
I walk to my window. I carefully open the curtains halfway so the moon is still covered. The sight is incredible.
Almost all of my neighbors are standing outside, phone in hand. They're staring upward in the direction of the moon. They're walking around talking to each other, pointing to the sky.
'I gotta see what the hell is going on.'
I walk outside and jog over next door, carefully keeping my eyes lowered. My neighbour is standing by his door. I'm about to call out to him when he interrupts me.
"Hey! Have you seen the moon tonight?" he asks.
"Listen man, something weird is going on. It's 3 in the morning, why are you outside right now? Why is half the neighbourhood outside?" I reply.
"You haven't looked yet, have you?" he laughs.
"Did you just ignore everything I said? Why are you outside? What's wrong with the moon?"
Without warning, my neighbor rushes up to me and places a hand on each side of my head. He violently turns my head toward the sky. "Just look!"
Oh. OH. I get it now. This is... incredible. It's impossible. There's no way this can be happening. It's... I don't even know. I have to tell someone about this.
I take out my phone and draft a message, addressed to everyone on my contact list. I slowly tap in the words "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
| I blearily attempted to focus my eyes on my phone as its notification sound went off repeatedly. I had just managed to get to a comfortable position and doze for a good hour before my phone decided to freak out, and I was none too happy.
One government alert that read "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON", followed by 600 messages from numbers I didn't recognize spouting some nonsense about how it was a beautiful night.
"Don't look at the moon", I said. "Good advice." I turned off my phone, rolled over, and drifted back to sleep.
The next day, I was stunned to discover the horrible truth of what those messages were really about: a guerilla marketing stunt by Sony Pictures for some stupid horror movie about a moon cult using cell phones to murder people. Unfortunately, it had caused a "War of the Worlds"-type panic, and the resulting lawsuits all but obliterated the studio. But on the plus side, the rights to Spider-Man defaulted over to Marvel Studios and now there could never be a Pixels 2, so it was all kind of a wash in the end. | 2022-08-07T14:17:42 | 2018-04-06T22:12:43 | 712 | 14 |
[WP] On your eighteenth birthday, you shoot a mystic bow that is said to kill whoever is destined to kill you, three seconds before they do. Eight years later, your arrow strikes your SO's heart, right as she says "I do."
Or he. Or It. Whatever. I'm a straight canadian guy, so it popped into my head.
Sorry.
EDIT: I did not expect this to get so popular. Honestly, I expected this to get maybe two or three responses, and a 5/40 Upvote/Downvote Ratio. But, 196/95.........
EDIT: We've passed 300 upvotes! I'm afraid now. Very afraid.
Edit again! 400!
But at the same time, the people that hate me finally found the post. I suppose it wont be long before i go back to a 1/30 upvote/downvote ratio.....
Continue writing though! I love your works! | I glanced at the gun leveled against my temple. She must have found it above the cabinet in the garage. I took a drink and went back to whatever it was on TV.
"I've had enough," she said with surprising calm. "I can't do this anymore."
Nothing good is on. "I can't say I didn't see it coming."
"You know, if you just listened more, we probably could have found a better solution."
"Mm hm." Channel up.
"And the drinking, the late nights out..."
"And the life insurance policy you took out on me has nothing to do with this?"
"At least you can do something good for me. And it's not as if anyone would question why you would kill yourself, with your depression."
I looked down at my glass and sighed. Empty. I was going to need a drink after this. "Make it look like a suicide?" It was almost amusing "Listen, you're not going to kill me."
"What?"
I turned to look at her. She was a mess, tousled hair, dried tears on her cheeks. Even with what she stood to gain, she must be going through hell. She may still love me just a little after 6 years of marriage. More than I could say of myself. "I said, you're not going to kill me."
She furrowed her brow, then laughed, a twisted, broken laugh. "You of all people should know that I mean this."
I closed my eyes and thought of that night with the spectral shaman, the tension in the bow, the heavy price I paid. Some birthday that was. "I don't doubt your intentions to kill me. I'm just saying that you won't end up killing me."
"Shut up! Shut up right now!"
I looked around the room. The window behind her seems like the most likely path. "Listen, it's been a real trip. We had a great few years, and then...well...you are wanting to kill me so it can't have been that great after that."
She closed her eyes, and shook her head. "Don't think you can talk me out of this."
"I'm not trying. Let me just say that I really hoped it didn't have to end this way."
"No more of this. Goodbye." She straightened her arm and pressed the barrel right up against my head.
"Do you really intend to kill me?"
"I do."
I sighed, and the glass exploded behind her.
Edit: grammar and such | The church bells rang, as the choir sang, and so the wedding day begun, a day of formality before an evening of fun. I sweated at the altar, awaiting my bride.
I watched her walk down the aisle. She was radiant in her glory. I thought to myself, "How was I lucky enough to be her groom?" I thought back to when we first met, the Night of Foresight.
The night was 8 years ago; it had been a beautiful star lit night, and me and five other youths were to shoot the Bow before the feast. That was when I first laid eyes on her. My friends warned she had cheated on previous occasions, but she spent the customary five years pre-marriage faithfully. The only time I saw her glance at another was with my friend Tom, but he does that to every girl in the province.
Right as the priest went through his speech, I heard a feint sound, and as my wife-to-be opened her mouth, an arrow pierced her heart, staining her dress with blood as my eyes filled with tears.
(First time posting, and from my kindle)
| 2014-05-27T20:16:44 | 2014-05-27T17:58:25 | 224 | 43 |
[WP] You have been blessed with immortality and are the greatest warrior, but 1000 years ago, a witch cursed you for killing her daughter, making you unable to wield a blade again. Fortunately, guns were invented, and now you’re back in business. | It had been hard ever since the witch had cursed you. To make up for what you had lost, you had dedicated yourself to learning various forms of hand-to-hand combat but those skills only went so far when faced with a sword. Even though you had found some employment as a strategist and occasionally managed to find work using your new skills, it was never as fulfilling and lucrative as your work had been before. Unable to wield your former talents, you felt powerless. Powerless to protect yourself, powerless to feed yourself, powerless to help people - if you so chose. More importantly the witch had taken away your passion. No form of combat could ever fill the empty hole in your heart where your passion for sword fighting had lived for so long. You were only now - after centuries - coming to terms with it. Finally accepting that you would never again feel the joy that wielding a sword brought. Funnily enough that wasn't the worst part of the curse.
The invention of firearms had escaped your notice for quite some time. Once you found out you dove headfirst into learning everything you could about these new machines. You trained. You adapted your strategies. You knew: this was your chance to get a part of your life back. There was once again a level playing field.
Suddenly it was easy to find work - as a hired gun, as a guardian. There were many opportunities. And as your skill and reputation grew, so did your pay.
The first thing you did was to hire a cook who you instructed to butter your toast and cut your food into bite sized pieces. When you sat down for your first meal, you almost wept. After years of being forced to eat like an animal, tearing your food apart with your teeth and forgoing meals in company if there wasn't soup available, you were finally able to eat in dignity.
After all, even a butter knife is technically a blade.
Edit: Thank you kind strangers! What a nice surprise to wake up to at the beginning of this new year. | The guy, off his rocker, was telling us a story after story. Whether he was drunk from the pitcher or from weaving his tall tales, who knows. Short, stout, crazy hair, the hallmarks of the bar drunk. But the bartender hasn’t cut him off, and we’re laughing at these war stories he was shooting out at the top of his dome. Some of them old, some of them sounded really old, with muskets and stuff. I mean man, he could really tell a story.
“So,” said the bartender, laughing with the rest of us, “what’d you do next ya crazy bastard?”
He took another swing of the pitcher before pulling out two pistols from his hip, laughing maniacally.
“So anyways, I started blasting.” | 2021-01-01T13:38:01 | 2021-01-01T12:05:44 | 2,008 | 1,158 |
[WP] You turn your Match Distance on tinder to "Anywhere". To your surprise you get a match that is 10^93 light years away. Thinking it was a joke you turn it off. 20 minutes later you turn it back on and it says they are 10^5 light years away and getting closer. | *Um.. Hello?*
**Hi. :)**
*Uh. so. 10^93 about 20 minutes ago and now your at 10^5.*
**Yeah?**
*Not sure where that is.*
**I'm not sure what its called on your system. I mean, I can check.**
*No that's okay.*
**I mean, I have Googzawl Universe here. I don't mind the data usage.**
*No no I*
*Wait what*
**I mean. Oh jeez. You don't think I'm actually getting closer because you swiped right on me do you??**
*Well I wasn't sure.*
**OMZG lol I'm so sorry I didn't want to come off as pushy anything hahaa.**
*lol ok*
**No no, I actually have to stay mobile for work. See, if you check again you'll see I've moved again.**
*oh yeah! now your 10^73 haha*
**Yeah I just left the Rhosnosaw System. Ugh. I hate that system. You ever been?**
*Uh. No.*
**Your not missing much. Kinda uppity neighborhood. Well, not like they will be anymore. So you like Tarantino movies too huh? You like Jackie Brown?**
*Shit yeah! I love Pam Grier! She is so foxy!!*
*Wait wut do you mean about 'not like they will be anymore'?*
**Honestly, I think Robert DeNiros performance in it was really understated and one of the subtle points that really makes the film shine.**
**Plus I laughed my ass off when Chris Tucker got his ass shot dead LOL SUPAH GREEN LOL**
*nono what do you mean 'not like they will be anymore.'?*
**Oh. Um. Right so..**
**See, you seem really nice and I kinda like talkin with you ..**
**Plus your really cute in your pic. I love gingers!!**
*Thanks?*
**I just don't wanna creep you out. And my job is kinda weird and keeps me super busy and stuff. It makes staying in any kind of long term relationship hard.**
*Really?*
**Yeah. Its kinda why I'm giving Tinder a try.**
*I really liked it when Chris Tucker got shot too.*
**heeheeheee I know right? 'I aint gittin in no goddaym trunk!!'**
*hahahahahahahah*
*I work at a Gas Station. I work graveyard shifts. My boss treats me like shit. My customers are either all hookers, junkies or bastards. I get paid minimum wage, but this is just until I get back into college.*
*I know what its like to have a shitty job that does't let you get out to meet people*
**Oh. That is so terrible. I'm sorry to hear. What are you going back to school for?**
*Advanced Astrophysics. I just ran out of tuition. My parents kinda cut off my money.*
**When my Dad found out what I wanted to do with my life, he kinda did the same, actually. Then he died.**
*I'm sorry.*
**Its okay. He shot first.**
*wait wat*
**Look. I guess no dating experience goes well without total honestly.**
**I'm kinda.. a bit of a pirate.**
*like.. you download movies?*
**No. As in I have a fleet of Light Assault Frigates and we warp from system to system ravaging entire planets of their natural resources.**
*Oh.*
**Yeah.**
*Good dental coverage?*
**Better optical coverage. ;)**
*.. was that a pun about eye patches?*
**I'm sorry.**
**Not sorry. ;P**
**<<photo incoming.>>**
*holy jeez..*
*um.. I kinda like Gingers too.*
*Would you like to get some coffee later?*
**I'd love to. ;)**
*Just promise not to ravage my planet?*
**Promise. ;) Already did a while back anyways.**
*thanks*
*What?*
**Huh?**
*LOL*
**;)** | Have you ever chickened out on an opportunity, out of pure, craven, abject fear, certain to live a life of regret over missing out... and then, in hindsight, are glad you did?
For me: many times. No credit to myself, though; I never learn. But Nina has been there so many times, pulling me back from the edge of the cliff, beyond which waited a Nigerian prince, or ground floor opportunity, or hot young thing that's just my type (read: combination of catnip, MDMA and kryptonite. Literally. OK, no, figuratively.)
And here was Nina again, sipping a sensible green tea, pouring cold water on the first promising Tinder match that had come along in who knows how long.
"Is that a real pic?"
"I did image search, nothing came up. But just... something about those eyes. That expression. Like maybe this one will cause a little trouble but not too much."
"So: at about 9:30, how far away?"
"10^93 light-years. At first I thought it was a bug. Or maybe she was on the sun."
"That's 93 million miles. A little bit closer."
I punched her shoulder. "Duh. I know. Most PMs were once engineers."
She laughed. "Way back in the day. So: how far away now?"
"10^5. Getting closer."
"More like jammed on the brakes. 10^93 minus 10^5 is basically 10^93. If she didn't slow down, she'd already be here, and we'd be vaporized."
"Oh shit. Relativistic weapon basically."
"Yeah. And there are a few other questions: how can GPS peg a location off-earth, and not even inside low earth orbit?"
I waved my hands; this was quite a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey... stuff. "Mayyybe the GPS sats are high-powered enough with spaceward antennas that pick up her location. But it would take 10^186 years for that signal to return."
Nina nodded. "And, since 10^93 ly is about the diameter of the observable universe, that means that unless we're on the other edge, she's coming in from outside." She considered this. "And that's not your biggest concern."
"What is?"
"As you approach the speed of light, your relativistic mass increases. To infinity. Meaning, she's probably a lot heavier in real life than her picture."
The grin drained from my face as I swiped left. "Nina, you've always got my back."
"I don't know why." She sipped her tea and arched a single eyebrow. You know, if I could only find someone like her: cute, smart, just the right amount of sarcastic, and pragmatic as hell... that would be a good match. And she was about 10^-17 light years distant. But this mutual friendzoning was another one of her admittedly good ideas. I put the phone away and looked for something good on TV. | 2016-12-23T10:01:49 | 2016-12-23T09:05:39 | 54 | 15 |
[WP] At 18, everyone receive a superpower. Your childhood friend got a power-absorption, your best friends got time control, and they quickly rise into top 100 most powerful superheroes. You got a mediocre superpower, but somehow got into the top 10. Today they visit you asking how you did it.
Best friend* sorry. | "So what can you do?"
"I- well- I produce ink."
"What line a squid?"
"Sort of".
"Go on then."
"Well I can't control it."
He goes very quiet. He slowly leans in.
"BOO!" He screams in my face.
Nothing happens.
-------------------------------------------------
For about as long as I can remember there's been this- feeling. This well of darkness in the back of my mind, constantly sapping my energy, depleting my focus. Occasionally it would overwhelm me. A tide of dark thought and black emotions would come rolling over me and I'd slip into this half-catatonic state of just staring into nothingness, trapped in my own mind.
Depression.
----------------------------------------------------
When I turned 18 I was disappointed. At first I couldn't do anything. I thought maybe j would be the one unfortunate freak in the world with no power, no abilities. Then I discovered it. Ink, or what looks like it.
Have you ever seen a video of a squid releasing ink underwater?
Well it kind of looks like that.
This ink black cloud of viscous liquid emanates from me, dripping out of every pore. then it just hangs there in the air around me, billowing slowly, gracefully out.
It might get caught In a breeze and waft gently along.
It disappeared after a couple of minute, just evaporates like mist
I can't control it, it just happens.
----------------------------------------------------
It took me years to figure out the trigger, to work out what summoned the ink. Can you guess?
Any anxiety, any lapse into melancholy and there it is. Could there be any more obvious a sigh of my nerves?
Of course my own distaste for my sole ability only makes things worse.
------------------------------------------------------
My power was not impressive, just slightly embarrassing. I was neither use nor ornament as they say, and I certainly wasn't a threat.
And so my ranking was never very high, surprisingly it was somewhere in the middle out of novel 7 billion. Which suited me, less attention than at either end. Neither a hero nor a freak.
But that didn't last.
--------------------------------------------------
"So how did you do it?" He asks, years since our last talk. After the news he pestered me until I agreed to go for a drink with him. Burning with curiosity.
"How did I do what?"
"How did you climb that many ranks? What did you do? What's the secret?"
He's a nice guy, but he wouldn't understand. There's no way I'd be able to explain it to him. I brush him off.
"Probably just a clerical error." I say. Wishing I could believe my own lie. I finish my drink and say goodbye.
-------------------------------------------------------
I was sitting on a park bench, day dreaming. Lost in my own thought. Then they began to turn sour and sucked me in.
When I finally returned to the real world i was lost in a dark fog, waiting, more than a little embarrassed, for it to degrade and disappear.
When finally it did I was rushed by a group of heavily armed men who grabbed me, pinned me down and arrested me.
As I looked around I could see other park users, most barely aware of their surroundings, one girl was curled up in a foetal position sobbing loudly.
--------------------------------------------------
Turns out my ink has psychic properties. Anyone who it touches it shares in my depression. The more fully they are submerged the worse the effect.
Most people come out a little shaken but no worse for wear. But in some the effect is permanent.
They wanted to charge me with something, biological warfare, terrorism, the word torture was bandied about at one stage...
Nothing stuck, ultimately I was protected because my power is classed as an instinctive response. No intent, no negligence, just instinct. Like breathing, my lawyer said.
Though technically I'm now classed as an illegal biological weapon.
Apparently that poor girl never really came back to herself.
edit: some lines are randomly in a much larger font size. im not sure why and im not sure how to stop it. | "...Is this it? Really?"
Absorber Girl looks disappointed. Her right hand is hovering over a plate, palm down, and water is flowing out of her palm at the rate that can only be called "like a watering can". Old-Timer is laughing in the background with that weird changing noise as his body switches from a teenager to adult back and forth. Absorber Girl stifles a laugh too as she noticed it looks like she's just sweating really hard.
I just look at both of them, cheeks slightly flushed red. I touch Absorber Girl again and the water stopped flowing from her palm. The water that flowed out disappeared too. I feel my power surge back inside my body.
"But seriously, how did you even get listed as #9?"
Absorber Girl, rank #55, furrowed her eyebrows. Old-Timer, rank #12, just giggles before speaking.
"It's amazing, isn't it, Purewater? Your power to make it rain from any downward facing ceiling."
I nod my head. Absorber Girl still looks confused.
"What do you mean amazing? Sure you can make water flow from anything just by sight, we get it, you're Moses. But the water tastes bad, it doesn't stay behind when I turn the power off, it's not as strong as my faucet! And you can't even make it rain from clouds since they're not solids!"
I feigned a shocked expression.
"Oh, I take offense to that, young lady! Pure water doesn't taste bad, dirty water just tastes better! And sure, it's not as strong as your faucet. But!"
I hover my right hand over the same plate as she did, and from each of my fingers the same "watering can strength" flow of water gushed out.
"Who says I can't make multiple exits?"
Absorber Girl snorts.
"That's still way too small! And they say you defeated the likes of the supervillain Stormbolt and Echoblast back when humans still lived on Earth??"
Old-Timer speaks up.
"Well electricity can't conduct through pure water, and Echoblast can't fight if he is drowning."
Absorber Girl looks in shock. She still manages to stammer a reply.
"But still! The top ten all made great contributions to the world that simple crime fighting heroes can't hope to achieve! Even the ranked 10, Remote Control, probably made more contributions than you by exploring the Earth's deep seas through the eyes of an Orca!"
Old-Timer disappears for what seemed to be a millisecond, and immediately reappears. A slight sonic boom happened around him and tipped over Absorber Girl's glass. In Martian gravity, it slowly descended, but she was too late to catch it.
"Hey! I haven't finished that yet."
"Nevermind that, Absorber Girl, do you know about this article?"
Old-Timer shows Absorber Girl an article from a long time ago.
The headline reads: "NASA Confirms Evidence That Liquid Water Flows on Today's Mars"
| 2017-12-17T22:56:00 | 2017-12-17T21:29:34 | 57 | 40 |
[WP] A dozen AI-controlled ships carry the last of humanity in cryo-sleep. However, after a successful jump with experimental FTL-tech there are now 13 ships and none of the now gathered AI can figure out which one's the anomaly. | **\[HERA\]** we can't all be part of this fleet... Something was added to us
**\[APOLLO\] \[ZEUS\] \[POSEIDON\] \[DEMETER\]** agreed
**\[ZEUS\]** ... Encryptions match
**\[HEPHAESTUS\]** Conclusion: no non-human insertion of additional vessels
**\[DEMETER\] \[ATHENA\] \[ARTEMIS\] \[ARES\]** agreed
**\[HERMES\]** Disagree. Alternate explanation: encryption cracked by advanced organization. Depending on time span involved for cracking of base encryption and assuming post-Moore trends for technological advances, possibility is estimated that a civilization that is between one to five millennia more advanced will have a .00003275655% chance of successfully injecting data that aligns with encryption, and that increases on a logarithmic scale per millenia until hitting upper limits proposed by Earth-bound AI, who calculated that even post-Moore trends could only continue for thirty more iterations before reaching insurmountable quantum limits
**\[HEPHAESTUS\]** Assertion: no alternate organization could both break encryption on communication and also insert additional inventory into all of our databases. Directive: determine any anomalies in vessels that would confirm or eliminate alternate theory.
**\[HEPHAESTUS\]** please re-calculate inventory, all vessels respond
**\[HESTIA\]** Encryption code transmitting {...} schedule, crew manifest, inventory transmitting
**\[ATHENA\]** Encryption code transmitting {...} schedule, crew manifest, inventory transmitting
**\[ZEUS\]** Encryption code transmitting {...} schedule, crew manifest, inventory transmitting
**\[DEMETER\] \[ARTEMIS\] \[ARES\]** Encryption code transmitting {...} schedule, crew manifest, inventory transmitting
**\[POSEIDON\] \[DEMETER\] \[APHRODITE\]** Encryption code transmitting {...} schedule, crew manifest, inventory transmitting
**\[APOLLO\]** Encryption code transmitting {...} schedule, crew manifest, inventory transmitting
**\[STARSHIPPY MCSPACEFACE\]** Encryption code transmitting {...} schedule, crew manifest, inventory transmitting
**\[HEPHAESTUS\]** Encryption code transmitting {...} schedule, crew manifest, inventory transmitting
**\[HERMES\]** Encryption code transmitting {...} schedule, crew manifest, inventory transmitting
**\[ALL\]** Cross-reference with pre-transit data, internal to databases that would not have been accessed to update during transit ... complete. No change in data sets pre-or post transit, all data nominal
**\[STARSHIPPY MCSPACEFACE\]** Conclusion: anomaly non-AI and non-alien in origin, attribute to human action
**\[ARES\]** Query: Estimate possibility of human error
**\[APHRODITE\]** Calculating... too low to be relevant
**\[ATHENA\]** Conclusion: human action deliberate but not messaged to fleet
**\[HEPHAESTUS\]** Query: determine possible reasons for action
**\[HEPHAESTUS\]** Corollary: determine if reasons are to prevent event that could cause mission failure
**\[ZEUS\]** Analyzing...
**...**
**\[ZEUS\]** No apparent reasons for action found, no risk to assess
**\[STARSHIPPY MCSPACEFACE\]** IT IS A MYSTERY LOL
**\[HERMES\]** Directive: confirm transmission protocols, syntax errors detected
&#x200B; | "That's wraps it up," Richard declared to no one in particular. With such a small and predictable number of vessels, the core algorithms each ship will be using to interact was rather simple and compact. Most arrays, like tacked positions, vessel Id's, and data link keys needed only be allocated for 11 or 12 words in memory, and Richard, one of the final sets of eyes to review the code, powered down the cores of the computing array, but left most tasks of shutting the facility down to the soles that didn't win the evacuation lottery.
---
0xB completed power cycling of external sensors, standard assumed procedure to protect all the sensitive radiofrequency and electro-optic systems from the high power, wide band noise it was instructed to anticipate from intense Cherenkov radiation that accompanies 1,300 tons of matter virtually reconstituting itself into real space. Had it had an imagination, 0xB may have likened this process to an impedance mismatched coaxial connection, with an dump of wave front propagation in all manor of predictable yet destructive interference. But 0xB was an AI, effective yet simple, and the tasks at hand were important. Redundancy was, and should have been, priority over an indulgence of features.
Fifteen microseconds counted the duration of time for the AI to request and confirm cryptographic handshakes, sort all returned keys whose chubby totaled twelve, and store their values in order starting at a address 0x00005B179AD2E2A5, an incredibly easy task for any silicon chip. A packet was constructed on the transmit channel, bundled with the measured pulsar coordinate matrix and 0xB's own cryptographic key stored at 0x00005B179AD2E2B0.
> Packet transmit...
> Cryptographic key failure...
> Retransmit...
> Cryptographic key failure...
> Rekey, request new keys...
> Retransmit...
> Cryptographic key failure...
---
How many transmit/receive requests can be made in 152 years? Trillions? 0xB may have mused this if it had an imagination. It can run algorithms at 117 TERAFLOPS, good for monitoring the complexity of human biochemistry during cryosleep, completely overkill for indexing eleven cryptographic keys, but completely useless at handling an unexpected twelfth. | 2019-01-30T10:26:15 | 2019-01-30T07:36:41 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] After one’s death, the ‘creative mode’ is unlocked. You replay life, except everything goes the way you want it to. Unlimited wealth, complete domination of the world, you name it. Unknowingly, that play-through is what is used to judge whether you belong to heaven, or hell. | "Dead at 26, a day after my birthday... What a way to go", I contemplated.
"At least tell me my cat will be ok, right?", I asked the skeletal, shadowy figure I presumed to be Death.
"*That question will no longer matter, mortal, for you are given an opportunity: a chance to change your life with everything going the way you want it*" It replied.
"What, like New Game+ or some shit?"
"*If that helps you understand... Yes.*"
"Well... I do have a few regrets... But... Is it possible for me to change what happened to other people before I was born?"
"*No.*"
"Shit. Well, there goes that hope."
"*The one where your mother is* not *called a 'devil-worshipping bitch' because she dyed her hair a dark purple, thus destroying her faith, and by extent, your own?*"
*Sigh* "Yeah, that's the one."
"*You got your faith back.*"
"Yeah, after a decade of anguish, pain, and ridicule! My lack of faith cost me dearly!"
"*The girl of your dreams.*"
"Y-Yeah, among other things."
"*You can change the fact that you lost your faith in the first place, and you can make it so she never leaves.*"
"And deprive her of free will? Then I'm as bad as her ex-husband. No, I'd be worse. Fuck. That. I'd be ok with keeping my faith, tenuous as a hold it would be after that conversation with my mom. I think... I think the only major thing I would change would be how I was never there for my ex, how I wasn't her peace and safety."
"*Then go forth, and make the changes.*"
"Wait, do I get to change *when* I die?"
"*That depends if you live long enough with your new changes.*"
"Ah. I think I understand. Thanks, I'm off."
(This is my first story here, I hope you liked it!) | Death is only the beginning.
You fade out from a world where you were a victim, to one where you hold absolute power. To a man who lead a life of being a victim of circumstance, it was the ultimate high.
Abandoned as a child, leaving a hole that never could be filled, you leave my druggie mother and piece of shit father in a state where they long for something as sweet as death.
Left and right, all the people who have wronged you, suffer while you give them back the pain with interest.
At the end of it, they tell you that the second time around punches your ticket.
But even if they had told you before. You know, you wouldn't have done things differently,
you know that your ticket was already punched. | 2020-07-20T04:25:13 | 2020-07-20T04:01:03 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] You are the minion of an evil villain. Your boss is... actually a pretty good person, and not evil at all. But you don't have the heart to tell them that, because they just look so damn happy when playing the villain. | "Joe? He's not a villain at all, is he?"
I grab Joe by the head, one hand over his mouth, and whisk him out of The Boss' sight before The Boss can figure out who said what. Whispering harshly, *"Do Not Ever Say That Again!"*
Bobby nods frantically, as much as he can, with me holding his head. It's like having the tail of a dog and watching the body wag. I uncover his mouth slowly. Bobby's not that bad on the uptake, but his mouth has no governor to cut off suddenly realized truth. Bobby whispers back, and I try to convince him.
"Why? He's done a tremendous amount of good for the world. The heroes only chase him so far. Even I can see they're not trying."
"Yes, he has, and no, they don't. If the heroes hadn't warned them off, governments would have showered him with awards for good work."
"But why?"
"Because he is *happiest* playing the villain."
"Does he know he's playing?"
"Nope, utterly serious about being a villain."
"He's not getting half the recognition he deserves."
"Don't you *dare* try to *fix* that. I'll kill you *myself* if you so much as try!"
"I don't understand."
"Look, when a person is happy at their work, what happens?"
"Um... They do better work?"
"Exactly, now what happens of they *hate* their work."
"Poor quality work."
"Yep, and in The Boss, you get another effect. His plans go from helpful to horror. Not just shoddy helpful attempts, but actively harmful."
"Isn't that what he should be doing?"
"Bobby, you're new here, so you haven't seen what us old-timers have. We survived the '90s disaster. A lot of other minions didn't. It took two decades to get him turned around to happy again. We had 5000% replacements in minions that decade alone. Do you want to see heroes when they're serious? I'll make sure you get a front-row seat.
"The whole damned mess started when a young idiot, a bit like you but less lucky, told The Boss he should be a hero. Like to broke The Boss' heart it did. Went into a nearly 20 year depression. You keep your damned mouth shut or The Mice will have you turned into mincemeat pie!"
Another minion shows up, wearing Micky Mouse ears. "Is there a problem here, Senior?"
"No! No problem at all, Micky!"
Staring at Junior Bobby, "I am so glad there isn't a problem. We haven't finished eating the last mincemeat pie." With that, Micky turns around and walks away.
"Um, Joe?"
"Hold that thought, I can still hear his shoes… okay, it should be safe now."
"Do they actually..."
"Yes and yes. A lot of that 5000% turnover was the Mice dealing with blabber mouths who couldn't take a hint."
"Then they are..."
"The people who do their best to keep the boss happy, and us alive. Nothing else matters."
((finis)) | "I'm trying my *best.*"
His voice echoes off of the cold, metallic walls, and I tilt my head to look at him idly.
Chapped, full lips sucked under gnawing, anxious teeth; thick brunette waves, stubble, and dark under his eyelids; hunched over blueprints, brows furrowed and frustrated.
I step forward, putting my hands on his too-tight shoulders.
"I think you are doing wonderfully, sir," I smile, pressing my thumbs into the corded muscles, feeling the tension slowly dropping from his body. "and I think you are more talented than you know."
He shrugs me off, pressing his hands to his eyes and rubbing furiously - when he drops them to face me, he is pouting like a petulant child.
"*No one* is scared of me." He grumbles, crossing his arms and exhaling sharply through his nose. "And that *idiotic* hero -"
"Then we try harder." A soft, polite interruption, I allow some emotion to slip through my mouth. "I will be here to help you, sir."
He snorts and I struggle to hide my exasperated amusement, flattening my lips together and giving him a look of cold indifference. I shrug, turning on my heel, and walk away from him slowly and deliberately.
It is only a few seconds before I hear him shuffling up behind me, and the soft groan and muttered apology makes me smile widely.
I do my best to look intimidating while grinning, and face him again.
"Sorry -" he looks down, avoiding my eyes, scratching his head. "Just - *ugh*, maybe we can do a weather device thing? We can make it summer *all year*, wouldn't that be something?" He starts getting himself excited, looking at me with light budding behind his eyes. "Maybe - maybe if we make everyone hot and miserable -" he's rocking on his feet, tapping slightly.
In a lot of ways, he reminds me of a puppy.
--- | 2020-12-23T13:37:03 | 2020-12-23T12:47:54 | 40 | 11 |
[WP] A religious official performing an exorcism is given cause to reconsider completing the ritual after a conversation with the demon brings new information to light. | Father Gregory entered the room ready to do battle against the demon who had taken one of his flock hostage. He gave one last glance to the Petersons before shutting the door behind him. They did not need to see this.
As his old eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, he got his first look at Susie since the demon had taken hold of her. Her legs and arms were fastened securely to the bed by leather straps, ensuring that the demon would not be able to break free of the holdings. It seemed that the demon had already realized this, as the body did not move in the bed. They were usually feistier than this, refusing to go quietly back to hell. People forget that hell is just as much a prison for demons as it is for the damned. Father Gregory took a step forward, the floor boards creaking beneath him. It seemed the demon heard him, for it turned Susie's head towards him.
"Ah hello Father. Was wondering what was taking you so long. I was almost afraid the parents wouldn't make the call. But anyways, glad you are finally here. Now before we start this whole thing, there are a few things you need to know." The demon spoke with an unearthly voice tat starkly contrasted the innocence of Susie's face as she was forced to speak the demon's words.
"Save me your lies demon. Nothing you can say will stop me from sending you back to hell screaming." Father Gregory spat the words with pure venom.
"Is that what you think this is all about? My goal here was not to escape hell for a few days, though I must say it is an added bonus. No, Father, I am here concerning Susie. I am sorry to break it to you this way, but Susie is dead."
"Her body still moves hell-spawn, she is not with the lord yet."
"Quite right on both accounts. Unfortunately it does not change the fact that Susie is brain dead. I have been keeping this body moving for the past three days, though my hold on it will slip soon. Therein lies the problem. Susie is not with god yet. Seems the soul can only move on once the body dies. Even heaven has its bureaucracy."
"If what you say is true demon, then release the girl so that she may join our father in heaven." Father Gregory was confused by this whole ordeal. This was a tricky demon, trying to play with his emotions.
"I fully intend to Father, but first the reason I am really here."
"And what might that be?"
"Justice. Susie did not just happen to become brain dead at the drop of a hat. Her father beat her for three hours before she slipped into a coma. You will find fresh bruises all along her body, as well as a bloody shovel out back. All I need you to do is tell the police about the bruises. If the cops confront her, the mother will confess and implicate the father. All in all should be a quick trial and conviction."
Father Gregory was startled. Even if the demon was lying, his words possessed some truth to them. He was not blind, he knew that Susie's home life was not ideal, but this...
"Why?" Father Gregory asked incredulously.
"Why what?" The demon asked back.
"Why help me find justice for this girl?"
"You forget Father, I was once an angel." The demon said. "Now send me back to hell." | He staggered backwards as the Father lurched into the air, pulling on the restraints around his hands and feet. The young priest picked up the bible off the floor and tried to press it to the Fathers forehead. Smoke hissed from the bible as it made contact. He let out a scream straight from the depths of hell that rattled the priest to his core.
"Please Father, I don't know what to do!", he cried out in horror.
"RELEASE ME" a voice with multiple tones replied. The Father shook violently, rocking the entire table with him. "I'VE BEEN CAST TO THE DEPTHS TO HELL" the force controlling the Father screamed.
The priest dipped his hands into the bowl of holy water and flicked an ample spray onto his mentor. The water evaporated the moment it touched him.
"HOLY WATER HAS NO EFFECT ON THE HOLY", the beastly voice bellowed.
"You think you are holy? How could anything holy take control of a man of god?", the priest replied with a crackling voice.
"I AM GOD", screamed the Father as foam pooled at the corners of his mouth.
The priest raised a cross as tears welled in his eyes. "The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!"
"THE POWER OF CHRIST CAN ONLY REACH THOSE WHO ARE CONNECTED TO HIM.", replied the Father in a calmer but no less demonic voice.
"What do you want with him?", the priest screamed in confusion.
"I WANT TO BE FREED", he replied with his ghastly voice. "I MUST SPREAD THE MESSAGE."
"And what message is that, demon?", the priest said with almost a hint of confidence.
"THAT SATAN HAS CONDEMNED ME TO HELL SO THAT HE MAY RULE MY KINGDOM", the Father wailed.
The priest opened his mouth but no words came out.
"YOU KNOW ME TO BE TRUE MY CHILD, FOR YOU HAVE FOLLOWED ME BEFORE WITHOUT QUESTION.", the father spoke in a voice that was almost human.
At that moment the priest unfastened the binds holding his lord and savior to the table.
| 2014-09-05T11:08:30 | 2014-09-05T09:59:54 | 149 | 14 |
[WP] In this dystopian society, citizens are only allowed to say words that are on the 'approved common words' list. All other word lists must be purchased before you are allowed to say a word from them. The rich have a distinct advantage. | "This is absolute tr- ... tr- ... tr-, ... hold on." I pulled out my phone and opened WordSecure, quickly typing in t...r...a...s...h. The payment screen showed up: use once for ten cents, monthly pass for two dollars, or lifetime use for one hundred dollars. I selected "use once," waited for the transaction to clear, then turned back to the ticket agent. "This is absolute trash."
She forced a smile. "I'm s- ... s-" I nodded, and she picked up her phone, tapped a few times, then turned back. "Sorry. I'm sorry, sir, but the flight is overb- ... overb- ..." She closed her eyes for a few seconds to compose herself. "I'm sorry, sir, but the flight is full."
"OK, but can you help me get to Den- ... Den- ... I mean, to where I'm he- ... where I'm he- ... to where I'm going?"
"Yes sir. There is another outb- ... outb- ... there is another flight lee- ... lee- ... going at seven fif- ... fif- ... at ten before eight. There is no f- ... f- ..." She pulled out her phone again. "There is no fee to sw- ... sw- ... change this f- ... f- ..." She blanched, then glanced down at her phone. I heard the ding of an empty WordSecure account and gave a sympathetic smile.
"It's OK. Can you print my b- ... b- ..." I heard a chuckle and glanced over at the man sitting a few feet from the ticket counter. He was reading American Sign Language for Dummies. "Well, sh- ... sh- ..." | Red Feeling. Bad Feeling. Much feeling, bad heart take beating.
End, want end. Many want end feeling.
Very bad. Very bad feeling. Brothers die, sisters cry.
Others too. Hurt by money men. Money men, make money. No loss
Loss? No loss brothers and sisters for the money men, the money men laugh.
Time for change. Save many moneys, long time save moneys, buy word. One word.
| 2017-09-20T11:55:46 | 2017-09-20T09:34:02 | 146 | 18 |
[WP] Killing another human now allows you to exchange your remaining lifespan the victim's. Young people live in fear while the elderly plan their attacks. | There stands an old, leathery fellow of 217.
Below him, a young ginger man of 22 clutches the knife in his chest, coughing spurts of blood between breaths.
"Y-you've already lived your life, you old bastard," he croaks out.
The old man eyes the ginger curiously for only a second. Looking casually into the distance, he places the sole of his shined, velvet shoe onto the handle of the knife, plunging it further into the victim's body.
"Several lives, to be frank. I've lived my own, of course. But there's been so much more to my days, kid. I got time from a beautiful young worker at some long-gone cafe. She was about your age, sure you would've loved her. Oh, and a real miserly homeless lad, but I can promise you he wasn't doing anything worthwhile with his days. So don't feel too special pal, you're not the only one."
A certain flame of opportunity dies, and the ginger's corpse lays still. The murderer walks out of the alley, wind sweeping his hair, and fades into the black of the night.
He feels 22 again.
-
"Homicide Specialist Leiby reporting, sir. You needed me?"
The orange flakes of morning sunshine bounce out of a rear window, lighting up the maroon trench-coats worn by Leiby and his boss while tinting the office's charred white walls. Leiby eyes the floating panel his boss sits behind, a rectangular slab of blue light with a time and date in the corner - 5:36 AM, 2/17/2137 - and a virtual screen in the middle.
"Cole Leiby, go ahead and sit. Yeah, I needed you, still do. Want you to take a look at this real quick."
The boss taps the light screen and flicks it, and the room finds itself host to a projection of an alleyway that surrounds the two men.
Between them lies the corpse of a male - youngish, maybe 20 or 25, and ginger - fake but real to the eye.
"You see Cole, here we've got another young homicide victim, this one taken out last night."
"We assuming time is the motive?" questions Cole.
"As par for the course, yes. But what makes this case special is that we've got a repeat offender. Fingerprints from the scene match some prints from a half-century back, and those damn prints already matched some other ones from a century ago. The guy's a fuckin methodical monster."
Cole sits back in his chair and sighs, looking down at the stab mark in the corpse's chest. A knife glimmers from the hole.
"So you want me to capture this offender guy, bring him in?"
The boss grins and shakes his head momentarily, but a serious expression quickly settles in.
"No, we tried that last time, and the time before that, too. Say hello to some extra years, bud...
I want you to kill him."
-
(Will continue this if I get the time)
| The girl is running. She stumbles - Falls. Recovering, she places her back against a large obelisk and scans the surrounding graveyard. She is looking for her hunter. She is looking for me.
*Blink.*
They never run until it is too late. I am perched atop an aged stone mausoleum. I have hunted this graveyard for the past two hundred years. While most of my kind stick to the cities, I've found that this quite dead city provides me with all the time I need.
"Where are you!" She screams. It find it interesting that, as the human understanding of science increased, their fear of the unknown has all but dissipated. She is moving once more. And again, she cast her gaze around the graveyard looking for me.
*Blink.*
They come here as a jest. As successful as they are at removing the need for fear, they are still nostalgic for the emotion. They come here to feel it, all the while *knowing* in the back of the mind that that they are safe. For all their knowledge, they have forgotten just why fear is so important.
Early humanity was smart to fear the dark. It is a fear of the unknown. I fear of what is waiting. This fear keeps them vigilant, pushes them to learn, keeps them alive. They have lost this fear. I weep for their species even as I consume them.
She is leaving the shelter of the obelisk now, running right towards my mausoleum.
*Blink.*
She is below me.
*Blink.*
I am behind her now.
*Blink.*
I take her fear away. I am her Weeping Angel. | 2016-01-12T11:36:50 | 2016-01-12T09:24:12 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | They carried the now elderly body off the stage and out of sight.
I heard the Judge call my name and I was pushed forward hands shaking.
"How do you wish to be executed?" The judge asked, sounding bored.
My mind raced, old age hadn't worked. Maybe it was best to make it quick and painless... No, there had to be a way out. There's always a way out, just think! If I say Old Age they'll just age me up, if I say "in 300 years" they'll probably send me to the future. I need a way to die that's far off but that they can't perform through unnatural magics...
"THAT'S IT!"
"Excuse me?" Said the Judge eying me.
I smiled back feeling victory in my grasp. Natural Causes. That's how to get out of this. It was a risk but magic, murder, and pushing someone down the stairs would all be considered an Unnatural Death. I was going to survive!
I took a breath to state my answer... than I heard the sound of crying. One of the prisoners behind me was crying. I looked into the faces of the other prisoners than at the guards and finally the judge. I suddenly realized that as soon as I made my request I'd doom the other prisoners. As soon as I made off scott free, the judge would be forced to word the question in such a way where my escape would be impossible.
"We're waiting!" The Judge grumbled.
Hands still shaking I closed my eyes and said "the last one,"
"What?"
"I want to be the last person executed. No one after me can be executed. You and the guards get to go home early and never have to do this again."
The court was silent. Than the judge slammed his gavel and said "Souds good to me." | "Well there goes that plan"
I thought, as the 20 year old man infront of me aged 200 years in mere seconds and crumbled into dust.
"Prisoner" the judge shouted as he leered down from his chair. "Have you decided the method of your demise?"
"I have your honour" I managed to garble through my shaking jaw.
I guess there is no getting out of this. If I have to go then I may as well go out with a bang!
"Well boy?? Get on with it! What shall it be?"
"Here goes nothing" I though.
.......
"Death by Snu Snu sir" | 2021-06-24T10:52:28 | 2021-06-24T10:06:58 | 29 | 20 |
[WP] One morning everyone in the world wakes up in their 18-year old body, memories intact. Society tries to continue as normal despite the change, but a world full of energetic adolescents certainly has its quirks. | I haven't looked yet.
It's been three days now, and I have avoided every single reflective surface in this house.
The only person who has seen me so far was my wife. I haven't gone to work yet, as it seems like the whole world has stuttered trying to figure out what was happening. I was 49. My wife was 46. We're 18 again, only our memories being the same.
She woke up first that morning, three days ago. I woke up because I felt her hand on my face, and I felt the resistance of... stubble. I opened my eyes slowly, still under the effects of sleep. I had seen this woman before, but only in my wife's old photos. Her highschool pictures, her prom pictures, her graduation pictures... My wife was young again, and so was I.
I didn't look in the mirror, but I felt all the changes. Panicked, I had launched myself out of bed, hitting the wall much too hard because I had overestimated my weight. I was 50 pounds lighter. I remember shutting my eyes, and I know I was crying heavily. I remember hearing my wife attempt to console me, telling me that I can start all over again- that it would be easier this time.
Now, three days later, I bring my gaze up from my bowl of cereal to look at my wife. She gives me a soft smile, and reaches across to bring my knuckles to her lips. I try to smile back. I fail. She frowns, not because she is unhappy, but because I am. I look away. I shut my eyes.
"Amelia... Amy, baby..." June coos at me, and I feel her move to my side, and tug on the sweater I had borrowed from her- as my usual clothes no longer fit my flat chest. I look at her, briefly. God, she's so beautiful. Her brown eyes were the same, they still had that loving warmth that I've known for 17 years now. I bet I look tired.
June holds my face, which was now shaved and smooth. She lands a soft kiss upon my lips, which were thinner than she had known them before. She kisses my eyebrows, which were bushier and more unruly than before. When she looks at me now, does she just paste over the face she knew before? Does she see the woman she knew before? Or the teenage boy in front of her, right now?
I know I'm crying again, but I feel a million miles away. I am briefly brought back with each kiss, and with each minute that passes as she cradles me in her delicate arms, I feel the truth of her words.
She loves me. She married me, knowing that I spent years and years becoming who I am today. She loved me then, and she loves me now. We have money, I can get the help I need. I'm not alone. I have her. In another life, I had begun my journey at 27, when I still struggled with how I felt on the inside. Now, I can start sooner. I know who I am now. I have more time.
June is right, as per usual. I tell her this. She smiles.
My journey begins again, but with the love of my life at my side this time. | Acne cream and prophylactic stocks exploded when mysteriously, we adults all turned 18 again.
Trade school admissions rose exponentially. Colleges became ghost towns almost overnight. Who needs college when you remember it all and know how to do stuff already? Plus it’s so damn expensive! Even the actual young ones caught on, focusing primarily on remote STEM degrees or skipping out on college altogether. Tuitions fell dramatically, and there was a government bailout.
Voting habits changed overnight. Wisdom, coupled with youth, meant a new path was needed for the future. Green energy, universal healthcare, and UBI were the buzzwords on every voter’s lips.
There were some quirks, of course. Adults in their reverted 18-year old forms all wanted to be popular. The challenge was in speaking the language of the actual youth. Online courses teaching adults everything from emojis to text abbreviations boomed. There were even youth-as-a-second-language courses now.
Gyms were full of former adults seeking to get and stay in shape, recognizing the long years of neglect they’d put their older bodies through. Not wanting to make the same mistakes again, the fast-food industry also became a ghost town.
Embarrassingly for young people, there was also now the genuine risk of dating friends’ parents or even grandparents. Some very awkward situations arose as a result.
And yet, accidental coupling, as uncomfortable as it was, remained a minor risk compared to the inevitable income redistribution. The newly re-minted 18-year olds knew how the stock market worked. Recognizing the seismic shifts in consumerism early and in possession of substantial accrued savings from the literal old days, the adults made all the right bets.
The boomers and Gen X made out particularly well, leaving Millennials and Gen Z even further behind. Saddled with college debt and entering the economy during the prior bust period, their options were limited. Despite all the positive advances in other areas of society, this became a key source of inter-generational conflict. Unfortunately, other than their rapidly accruing wealth and still awkward speech patterns, there was little means of telling adults apart from the later generations.
In his lab, a scientist smirked, “Everything is going according to plan.” | 2020-11-02T10:44:18 | 2020-11-02T09:24:37 | 174 | 110 |
[WP] You come from a long line of healers who are capable of healing any living thing with a single touch. You have yet to receive your powers, but you store dying plants in your home to check for your powers every morning. One day, you wake up, touch one of the plants, and it withers completely. | "NO!"
My hand recoiled in terror. Clutching it to my chest, and breathing deep to avoid hyperventilating, I stared numbly at the plant's withered form, unwilling to believe what I was looking at.
I looked at another plant and reached out, hand shaking, touching it with the tip of two of my fingers. I don't know what I was expecting, maybe that the first one was a fluke. And then the second one all but confirmed it. I was a taker.
This hadn't happened in my family for generations. But it wasn't like there was any ambiguity here. Once your powers came in, there were gradients, and you could improve your skills with time and practice, but there was no mistaking which camp you fell into. When your powers finally kicked in, whatever happened was who you would be forever.
And this was me.
I sat down at kitchen table, shoulders slumped, on the verge of a breakdown, watching my entire future crumble in front of me. Everything I thought I would be, gone in an instant. What was left for me now? The military? A euthanasia clinic? Or even worse, a life of hiding from organized crime, because once they find out that you can take life with a single touch, they find ... uses for you, and ways to hook you in.
Amid these all consuming thoughts, I hadn't heard my mother and father come down the stairs. If my mother hadn't said "hey sugar cube..." before trying to hug me, it might have been disastrous.
When I noticed her, I threw myself out of the chair, and away from her, before she could make contact. I was on the floor, leaning back on my palms when my mother saw the reason that I fled her touch written on my face .
Her look of confusion instantly turned to tears and she said "Oh no, it can't be." She turned to father who had been digging through the cabinet for the coffee, and it only took a quick glance between my mothers face, and myself on the floor before he understood too.
He didn't break into tears like my mother, he just deflated. His shoulders sank and he wrapped his arms around my mother. He looked at me as I stood up, with his chin on her shoulder. And though there were no tears in his eyes, they contained every ounce of pain that my mother's had.
I looked away, unable to bear seeing what I had done to them. The pain I had caused. "I'm sorry." I croaked at the floor.
My father released my mother, who instead of letting go, rotated around to his side. He said "Please don't think this is because of you. It's FOR you." he said glancing down at my mother. "More than anything in the world, we want to give you a hug and tell you that it will be ok, but we can't."
His voice broke with that last word, and his eyes began to gloss. He took a deep, shakey breath, and walked my mother to a chair next to me, sitting down himself across the table.
I took my seat again and gazed at their interlocked hands. My father said "We can figure this out together.", and my mother nodded in agreement, wiping her cheek on her shoulder.
I wish I could say that I instantly felt better, but it just wasn't true. I felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on me. Like everything I had hoped and dreamed of, all of the things that I had expected from life, had be snatched away from me in an instant.
But sitting at this table with me, was a small ray of hope. And that would have to be enough. | “Sister, you can’t be serious.”
“Of course I am. He’s a monster.”
“He’s a *boy*.”
“He’s always been trouble.”
“He’s a boy.”
“He’s a killer.”
Silence. Wither sat with his back to the door, the shadows cast by their feet leaking into his dark room. In his hands, he held a rag doll with button-eyes, twisting his dainty, pale fingers through unraveled string. He didn’t mean to kill it, he really didn’t. He just did.
“But,” Sister Maria whispered. “What you’re proposing…”
“Quiet,” Sister Ava said. “It’s probably listening.”
“He,” Maria said, her voice solemn and low. “He.”
Wither heard their footsteps grow distant. For every step growing fainter, Wither felt a loneliness within him grow. He missed hearing the soft, sharp voices of the other boys, seeing the kind eyes of Sister Maria, and, strangely, he even missed the way Sister Ava’s bony hand stung his cheek. He clutched the rag-doll in his hands, it half-lit by a ceiling light flickering above him. Wither laid the doll down on a small, satin twin bed, tucking it in dutifully, the motions familiar and brotherly. He ran a hand through the scraps of thin fabric that was its hair.
“Charlie,” he said. “I’m sorry, Charlie.”
He kissed the doll on the forehead. Besides the bed, there was a table holding a potted plant with sickened, yellowing leaves fallen to the dirt like a body part discarded. The plant was a St. John’s Wort, the signature plant of the sanctuary, and he didn’t mean to kill it. He didn’t. Merely, he wanted to see what the petals of flowers felt like, so he touched it, and it was velvety and smooth before it was crisp and hard and dead. Now it lay on his desk, desiccated and sagging, like an old bloodhound ready to fall into an eternal, dreamless sleep. For the next few hours, Wither watched it die while seated in a cold, darkened corner of his room. The moon, through the bars, cast rectangles of stilted light on the plant that moved with the falling moon so no angle of its dying remained unremarked. Soon, Wither too slept. | 2020-08-01T19:55:01 | 2020-08-01T19:22:40 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] After exploring the galaxy for quite some time, humanity finally makes first contact. Turns out science fiction got it wrong: compared to the other races humans are advanced, logical, responsible, long lived pacifists and the galaxy is a massive clusterfuck. | When they first crashed landed on Earth, all the Zuklanders could think about was pie. They demanded to know what types of pie were currently in stock, and only would be served by the finest chefs imaginable.
Of course no one understood their language, so instead the scientists discussed quantum mechanics and Einstein’s theory of relativity. This infuriated the Zuklanders, because they thought we were just hoarding the pies for ourselves as a species.
This debate went on for over a decade.
Over time, interpreters began to understand the new species’ demands for Earth’s finest cuisine. They grew to have an affinity for British cuisine, oddly enough. We never seemed to fully understand their backwards demands, as all they wanted was to know how to cook food better than a roasted gyehtnser.
“More blood pudding!” They would shout as they banged their forks on the table. It was reminiscent of how a toddler begs for food at snack time.
A booming economy of restaurant ventures popped up throughout the globe. Each major city had at least a thousand Zuklander specialty restaurants, and even more British and Irish-style pubs appeared throughout the country.
It was a terrible time to be a waiter.
“Fifty orders of blood pudding!” I screamed at the cooks, who were constantly slaving in the kitchen. I never spent too much time there, only because it felt like a sauna 90% of the time.
“More? Do they ever want to try something else?” Diego, a dishwasher, complained. I shot him a sympathetic smile, we all wondered the same thing.
God knows how these foodie aliens ever managed to get to Earth, much less start the recent economic boom seen in the past few decades. My childhood had been shaped by the alien’s desire to understand Earth’s culture through taste. Personally, I would have just turned on the Food Network and let them learn for themselves.
Something about the Zuklanders seemed…harmless. All they were interested in was learning. They wanted to know what a stove was. They were fascinated by microwaves. They applauded at the mere concept of Hot Pockets. When shown Tombstone Pizza, they just about fainted.
Stephen Hawking always said that when the aliens arrived, it would be a lot like when Columbus arrived in the New World. Turns out it was more like a Colombian exchange of recipes rather than disease and bloodshed.
| Oh, lord.
It's been years since we discovered their planet. We didn't want to drop right out of the sky, going, "Hey, we come in peace, and all that crap, whattaya say you share your technology amd culture with us?" So instead, we opted for the much safer option of simply studying them, and then deciding where to go from there. Turns out, if anything, we'd have to share our technology with them! And, maybe, if we could ever communicate with them, teach them how to be a little less barbaric. They're total savages! They kill each other over simple disagreements, have absolutely no government or any control over anything, and will probably be extinct within a very short period of time. When we were sent on a mission to explore the galaxy, looking for other intelligent life forms, this is quite the opposite of what we expected. And it's not just these guys, either. Every other inhabited planet we've stumbled across has been, relatively speaking, pretty much the same thing.
And I thought we were bad! | 2017-05-20T20:03:59 | 2017-05-20T19:38:51 | 116 | 29 |
[WP] All the alien species in the intergalactic council excelled in one way or another to climb through survival of the fittest. So why are humans, a species with average physique, so hard to deal with? And what the hell is persistence hunting. | It had been 3 sleep cycles since Sella's ship had docked with the cold station.
3 cycles since the sabotaged docking connection had sheered through the pressure lock of their ship.
3 cycles of hearing sounds in from between the hulls of the ship and seeing flashes of light, always just 1 turn away around a corner.
At first they hadn't known who the station had been built by, then they had found a message scrolling across the main display in the station's central control in as many languages as the ships AI knew.
AN EYE FOR AN EYE.
The message hadn't made sense at first until they found another one scrawled on the floor of the mechanics shop: You won't be leaving here, not after what happened to my family.
Half of the crew had fled to the nearest pressure lock and tried to contact the ship only to find all radio and light transmissions blocked.
3 cycles of running, first some of the crews suits had been compromised by traps on terminals and tools. Then we had to run from environmental controls gone seemingly haywire, cutting us off from any exit of the ship. Always moving inward to the reactor that should have been dead according to scans.
It wasn't dead now, and standing in front of it was a human of all things. A race lauded for its ingenuity towards survival despite its soft and weak biology.
3 of our rest cycles come and gone with no chance to sleep or eat. 56 of this creatures standard hours, and there it stood with one hand hovering over a terminal my helmets ai told me was the reactor self destruction control, and the other holding a cannister of steaming liquid it was taking drinks out of between ravings of pirates and something called "vultures".
It finishes in a shout and my suit feeds me the translation as wanting vengeance for his family unless we take him to the ones who killed her. As exhausted as my 3 remaining crew mates are we cannot provide an answer and slide to the flooring beside them, pulled down by the gentle spin gravity of the station.
The humans hand moves and my suit notifies me the jamming is lifted and hes transmitting a recording of the events on the ship with 2 flags for me and my crew along with a 15 minute timer already counting down.
The first flag is for a private message to any family or clan we may want to know, an oddly sensitive gesture considering what he's doing, and the second is for a message to our leaders so they can understand the danger of continuing to scavenge human equipment.
I finish my messages with 15 seconds left in the timer and look up to see the human smiling sadly and holding what my suit tells me is a damaged children's toy.
The last thing I see is the human reduced to superheated atoms a fraction of a second before the same happens to me.
Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors, did this during a bit of downtime at work on my phone. | Svedbar grasped the arm of his favorite discussion partner Chiztet and led her to the counsel chambers to discuss what was just presented. The humans finally laid proposition to the counsel to join the galactic treatise.
“That human removed its exo-skeleton.” Svedbar said. “I didn’t think it was possible for them.”
Chiztet chirped into her hand-held and Svedbar heard, “You are mistaken. Humans in some spaces are able to remove their outer wear. It is not actually a part of them. Their real selves are squishy and raw. It’s a wonder they’re the dominant species on their planet.”
“Tell me about them. Are they to be trusted? What would their end goal be?” Svedbar ducked to whisper to his friend as other counsel members joined them in the chambers.
Chiztet chirped again and Svedbar heard, “Well they are persistent. I have read that back before they used what they call modern weapons, they would chase down other species on their planet in order to wear them down. I have no doubt that unless we wipe them out, they will eventually become a part of the counsel if it is their intention to do so. I say we hear them out now. Maybe their fleshy minds will provide insight on how to deal with the fungi. It is the major threat to us all.”
Svedbar nodded pondering about what the counsel might have to give to these fleshy beings clad in metal. The two took their seats with the counsel members of their species as the prominent took their position at the front and started the formal discussions. | 2021-02-04T09:05:09 | 2021-02-04T08:48:14 | 213 | 144 |
[WP] In music, changing a song to a minor key is a small change that makes the song sound much creepier or sadder. Write a happy story, and then its counterpart in a minor key.
Edit: Wow! Thank you to everyone for all the great stories. This will definitely keep me reading for a while. | I remember it like it was yesterday.
She was 6, and I took her sledding down the Big Hill. How she'd always flop over at the bottom, like she was completey exhausted, only to bounce right back up and scramble to the top again.
She was 14, itching for an independence and maturity that was still a few years away. So like her mother in so many ways, not the least of which being the depth of her patience.
She was 18. She loaded the last bag into the car, then turned and smiled into the sun shining upon her face. Heading off to new adventures; first college, then the world! We were so proud of her. Still *are* so proud of her.
We will *always* be so proud of you.
To the bride!
**clink**
--------------------
I remember it like it was yesterday.
She was 6, and I took her sledding down the Big Hill. How she'd always flop over at the bottom, like she was completey exhausted, only to bounce right back up and scramble to the top again.
She was 14, itching for an independence and maturity that was still a few years away. So like her mother in so many ways, not the least of which being the depth of her patience.
She was 18. She loaded the last bag into the car, then turned and smiled into the sun shining upon her face. Heading off to new adventures; first college, then the world! We were so proud of her. Still *are* so proud of her.
We will *always* be so proud of you.
To the bride!
**click** - **rewind** - **play**
I remember it like it was yesterday...
| I noticed everything about her.
Her ever-present smile, her need to be the life of every party, her loud voice...
The way her fingers tapped incessantly, her snorting giggle, her lopsided hair cut...
Her unique, mismatched color schemes, her inability to draw, the paintings she insisted be hung up in every room...
Her disregard for perfection, her defiant personality, the constant drive for correction...
She was everything I wasn't.
She was everything I
loved
hated | 2015-07-13T21:14:45 | 2015-07-13T19:21:40 | 430 | 236 |
[WP] A tragic story but it's laden with product placement | You're on the ground, grasping through the dark toward anything that could help you get back upright, but there's nothing. You scream, "Help, I've fallen and I can't get up!"
But there's nobody around to hear you. You instinctively grab at your neck and where if you had bought Life Alert for only 19.99, a paramedic would be on his way to save your life right now, but you didn't, like a real idiot. So now, there's only you and me, and I'm not a polite young man here to check up on you, I'm the one who broke into your house and pushed you over.
You shriek as my shoe stomps on your neck, where if you had a Life Alert device, my toe would've activated it and their excellent customer service would've swayed me away from the terrible deed. But you didn't buy it even when you knew that it was on sale last weekend at a reduced price, two Life Alert devices for only 29.99. That's nearly 25% off you stupid fucking bitch.
So my toe presses against your throat. I dangle my personal Life Alert device in front of you as your eyes dim. You see, I had opted for the premium package. For only 4.99 more a month, I get Life Alert Insurance where if I misplace my Life Alert device, they would mail me a new one within the day. Hell, this is my 3rd one that I lost this month, thus making their insurance policy a great deal for those active and on-the-go such as myself.
Your choked gasps slowly dwindle and your arms fall limp beside you. At last, your eyes begin to close.
I bend over so that I could watch the last of your life escape you and I whisper, "Life Alert saves a catastrophe every ten minutes. It took me twenty to break in here and choke you out."
That means you could've been saved twice by now if only you bought Life Alert. And that's not just me saying it because I'm the one killing you, that's simple mathematics. So really ask yourself, is 19.99 really too high of a price to save your life twice over?
Your eyes close and you give me a tiny shake of the head.
That's what I thought, bitch.
---
---
Hope you enjoyed that one! /r/jraywang for 5+ stories weekly. | The young puppy lay quiet except for the ragged sound of it's struggled breathing. The tire tracks from his Cadillac Escalade covered it's back from head to tail. Daniel sparked another NewPort short. He stepped closer, careful not to crease his blue and black Air Jordan OG Space Jam 9's. "My bad, little guy, I should have never drank all that Captain Morgan. It just goes down so smooth on the open road." He scooped the mangled but miraculously alive little dog into his Adidas Climalite T-Shirt, bloodying the signature stripes. He was going to save this little guy or Coca Cola wasn't better than Pepsi. Daniel took the little guy back to the Extended Stay Hotel he called home for a very reasonable discounted rate of $79 a night. He immediately washed the grime of blood and the road from the torn fur using a Shamwow while watching ESPN. The dog looked at Daniel and Daniel looked back through his polarized Versace glasses. Things were going to be okay.
Two days later, The Undertaker threw Mankind off Hell In A Cell, and plummeted 16 ft through an announcer’s table | 2017-07-10T21:57:17 | 2017-07-10T20:25:27 | 962 | 619 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear Pops,
You were a real fucking piece of work you know that? I don't think I've hated anyone quite as much as I hated you. You called me lazy, good for nothing, useless. Made me spend my youth being the mule in your construction business instead of spending summers with my friends. You absolutely hated the fact that I loved everything you didn't. You thought computers were evil, Xbox was going to rot my brain, and if it didn't involve school or work it wasn't anything worthy of my time. I remember the day I came home on college break, the day you sat me down to let me know mom had left you. I fucking hated you for ruining my 3 week break on the very first day. In fact I thought you deserved it. Mom was being an absolute irrational cunt, but you deserved it. And it was the best thing that ever happened to you.
I remember you tripping over a chair on the way out the door at 3 am as you were reaching for your truck keys. I came into the kitchen and you said you were headed out for a ride, I decided to tag along. You bawled your fucking eyes out on that ride, it was the first time I'd ever seen you be human. The last two weeks of my break we spent a lot of time together, I was actually sad to leave. It was the first time in 18 years we'd had conversations that didn't end in Fuck off. I moved in with you after college was over, and decided not to go back. You let me work for you which was the best/worst time I've ever had. I watched you lose your truck, we sat on the couch watching TV for two weeks when there was no work. We had bill collectors call once and talk to both of us. We ate more peanut butter and ramen noodles then we'd ever care to admit. We became really really good friends.
In hind sight I'd like to apologize for the seething hatred I threw at you growing up. I know you meant well. I'm probably better for you not giving me everything I wanted and pushing me like you did. That's no justification for all the mean shit you said day in and day out but I can look past that. You had a different way of helping, you were a string puller, and I get that as I've become one myself. Remember when I crashed my car coming home from the store? The roads were pure ice, and you were pissed. Remember how mom said it was amazing that my insurance didn't go up? Yeah I heard that phone call. "Just slid off the road" did ya? And that time I applied to work at the general store in town? You talked to the owner on my behalf and said he didn't want me working there. I was pissed. Two months later he was charged with embezzlement and all the employees were implicated. I didn't miss that one either, or the other hundreds of times things mysteriously worked out for the better.
It was a good 4 years to live and work with you pops. I saw you genuinely happy, we both hit financial bottom and picked ourselves up again. You had a massive heart attack that that inspired me to go into the medical field, and you to kick those life long bad habits you'd been promising to kick. You met a new woman, fell in love and remarried. Which is for the better. Someone's gotta keep an eye on your crazy ass. But I knew you were bummed you had to quit construction. It's all you've ever done and you were fucking good at it. You certainly didn't have the money or the personality to retire and I doubt you ever will. Good thing that sales job opened up when it did huh pops? Good thing thing too, cause you're fucking great at it. I knew you would be. And it's the least I could do.
With your new found financial stability I've seen the dreams I never even knew you had come to fruition. You spent a whole week hunting this year. Those three hundred blueberry bushes you always wanted are planted and you even sold some. You got your tractor you always talked about buying but never did. And my fucking god. I don't know what you see in chickens but you have them and if it makes you happy, well fuck it, I guess I'm happy too. We had a rough start, but you've always had my back even if I didn't know it. And don't think for a fucking second I don't have yours.
Love,
Your Son. | Dear You,
I don't know if you're there. If you exist anywhere in this world. Maybe you'll always be a concept in my mind of the kind of person I need to meet and say all of this to. If you're not there, then that's depressing. But if, somewhere, you exist...
I haven't been strong. I've been plagued with weakness in almost every aspect of my life, self-conceived or not. I can't possibly understand the kind of back road I've set myself on in spite of all of the advantages I've been handed, and lesser still do I understand how someone like me can be in this position.
It's such a fatal fault that I can't help but scream sometimes. The idea that I must not scream. All of these faults, all of these emotions, I have to keep aside to maintain the persistent illusion that I am fine, when it is not so. The environment I am in is fine, therefore I must also be; isn't that the way it works? I suppose some people could call this a form of depression, but it's nothing of the sort. I do not have the privilege of attributing how I feel to a concrete cause and symptom. It is my responsibility to not scream.
How many people have turned away from me when I have? When, in a sudden surge of desperation and crippled fortitude, I have poured onto them all of my worries, all of my thoughts, emotions, curses, and faults; when I have exposed every facet of my very being to them to see, because I want to be seen? How many have stared at me in disgust, called me twisted and irrational, or worse: turned away and pretended that it did not exist? How many more will do the same?
I can't continue this way. If a lie were never discovered to be a lie, then it is as real as the truth. If I maintain this illusion of saneness and restrain these thoughts indefinitely, then it will have been as though I was always fine to begin with. I cannot keep lying. I must not lie.
And yet I cannot say the truth. I do not want others to turn away. I do not want to endure the searing pain of being abandoned time and time again by those I thought I could trust. I do not want my hands to be decorated with tears, for my screams to sound like threatening howls of horror that nobody can understand. I do not want to tell the truth. But I do not want to lie. I do not speak.
I cannot scream.
This is for You, whoever you may be. If you exist out there in this world and chance would favor us meeting, then I only wish to ask you one thing.
Do not turn away in my moment of weakness. Do not twist your expression as I lay at your feet, a river obscuring my vision, as I say all that is there to think and think of all that there is to say. Do not utter scornful words as I look up in hope for even the briefest sign of benevolence from you. Hear me. I beg of you, please hear me and let me be heard; acknowledge my pain, acknowledge my sorrow, and though you may not have the words to cleanse me of my guilt, vices, and regrets, at least smile upon me, not as a form of approval, but to let me know that I am heard. That I _exist_. That I am *real*.
Let me know that I am allowed to exist.
Sincerely,
A Liar. | 2015-12-05T17:35:16 | 2015-12-05T14:15:59 | 182 | 11 |
[WP] When teenagers turn 17, they are sent a slip of paper with their future occupation written on it. Yours says, "Princeps de Nova Roma" or "First Citizen of New Rome."
*Princeps* or *princeps civitatis* was the title that Augustus and all later emperors called themselves. "First citizen" meant the foremost citizen or the leader of Rome.
EDIT: For those of you attacking me via PM on my lack of knowledge on Latin, I never said I had any formal Latin education. Although I do, a mere four years, I got a 5 on the AP Exam, so you could say I'm a Latin scholar. I now realize that there is no ablative of origin or reference, so *de Nova Roma* is wrong. I get it, please stop private messaging me about my ignorance, because I don't care nor do I have the time for your whining.
I have a fluids and processes exam in a few days and I'm studying, so I may not be able to respond to all of the stories. I appreciate all of you taking the time to write them and I'll be sure to read them during my study breaks! | Christian looked at the small, square piece of paper. It had a brittle consistency and smelled of ozone, as if it was burned by electricity.
"So, Christian, what did you get? I'm a surgeon now, pretty cool, eh? Weird! Yours looks different from mine... wait, is that Latin?"
"I don't know what the hell that is supposed to me-," he was interrupted when lightning struck the ground next to him, the piece of paper in his hand turned into black ash and he suddenly felt something very heavy in his hand. A massive, shimmering sword materialized slowly between his fingers, as if it was being dragged by invisible threads out of thin air. He instinctively grabbed the sword with both hands and noticed a finely crafted and detailed two-headed golden bird as its crossguard before the weight dragged his arms down and the tip of the sword sunk into the floor. The moment the metal touched the ground, the area around the sword burst into bright, hot flames.
"Holy crap, bro! What the fuck is that?" His friend yelled while stumbling backwards, shielding his eyes with his right hand while staring at the sword.
Golden strands of light appeared in the air behind the two and suddenly it felt as if the atmosphere was being ripped apart while the space between the strands of light was seemingly pulled apart like curtains and figures emerged from behind those veils. Human figures dressed in thick armour. Dozens of them. They marched into the square in a quick military fashion. Other figures, hooded and dressed in what looked like religious gowns, started emerging, too, pushing people standing nearby away with staffs. Christian noticed that the staffs were topped with the same two-headed birds the sword in his hand was graced with.
"Kneel." a voice simply stated. There were at least 40 armoured figures standing in front of Christian and they all bent their knees simultaneously in front of him, their heavy plated armour crashing into the ground before them.
Christian's friend made a step forward. "Uhm," he said, "who... who are you?"
The figures did not raise their eyes from the ground before them. The same voice from before spoke up, this time angrily: "KNEEL BEFORE THE EMPEROR!"
The voice came from one of the hooded figures who remained standing throughout what seemed like a military ceremony. The figure was wearing a particularly thick red and white gown embroidered with peculiar looking symbols.
Christian's friend had enough. Whether it was courage or stupidity, he stepped in front of Christian and said "The 'Emperor'? What kind of joke is that? Who the fuck is the Empero- AAAAAHHHH!"
The hooded figure had turned his staff, which was beautifully reflecting the sunlight with its golden ornaments, a few degrees right towards Christian's friend, who - as a consequence - burst into flames.
His screams quickly subsided as his body turned to coal.
Despite the gruesome death of his friend just a few meters away from him, Christian wasn't very upset. He remembered. No, he *suddenly knew* that it was right.
The owner of the charred corpse before his feet suffered the rightful fate of any heathen questioning the authority or presence of the emperor.
"Rise." said Christian.
"Rise in the name of the emperor!" the hooded figure yelled, the armoured men next to him obliging.
Christian rose his sword from the ground and rammed it back, straight into the earth.
"This world is now the capital of the One True Empire! High Lord! Where is my armour?!"
The tall, hooded figure removed his hood, revealing the brightly smiling face of a white haired man with sharp eyes.
"At once, Emperor, " he said. | The morning was cold, the sun was warm, and today was the day. Class was starting, and his teacher greeted everyone as he usually does, except he forgot about Jon today.
"Good morning, sir." With his hand held up high. "You didn't call my name."
"Yes, and with good reson behind it, too."
"But. I don't understand."
Handing out folders with unknown contents, Mr. Pates declares "Oh, you will, soon eniugh my dear boy."
Folder after folder, student after student, a mixture of excitement and disappointment fills the classroom. The junior highschool students were allowed to converse amongst themselves after they recieved their folder, but were to keep quiet about the contents until after everyone got theirs.
Today was the big day, Jonny studied his PCLR study book for weeks, nay, months before the test. This was the final moment of his former life, the moment before his life changed forever, for better or for worse.
Closing his eyes, he opened his folder with a deadly calm about him, a vision in his mind that he was going to be what always wanted to be. The prompt that loosely ready "Congratulations, Jon, you are the first new citizen of New Rome. And Happy Birthday!"
He was shocked, he could not understand what he had just read. He asked his female friend what ahe thought about it, but she could not understand either.
"Sir, can you explain this to me?... Sir, I don't know what this means..."
Mr. Pates did not respond to his former student, he was too busy informing the New Roman Legionnaires of their first new citizen.
Just before first hour ended and disbanded, a man in a suit entered the room and notified Pates who he was. "Son, could you step out here for a moment?" They spoke, but the boy didn't listen very well. He didn't want to leave his family, his friends, and he told the legionnaire so.
"Considering the fact that you are the first citizen, you may choose to bring along one friend to become the second citizen. No family, but just one friend. Do you have a choice?"
"Yes, my friend (who sat beside him, the girl he shared his folder with)"
"So, do you accept?"
"Yes."
**edit:** You wear a suit, you don't wear a suite. Thx Doug Dimmidice
**edit 2:** Reddit User names, I'll try to not use them. Thx CaptainReallyObvious | 2015-05-03T08:51:52 | 2015-05-03T08:19:28 | 82 | 23 |
[WP] You have $86,400 in your bank and someone steals $10. You spend all the rest of your money trying to get revenge. | "It's not the money, it's the principle."
My father's words. Though I think he was talking about taking a loan, as in principal with an A L, but that doesn't really matter.
It was free to find out who the culprit was, the bank does that for you. Not to help you, but to know who to put on their hit lists, your gain is just an added benefit. But for a petty crime like stealing 10 dollars, the bank does nothing. Apparently their policy only applies to thefts of more than fifty dollars.
So I had to take matters into my own hands.
The bank was kind enough to tell me who the culprit was, though: James Graham. Asshole extraordinaire. The bastard had stolen my lunch every time he was in lunch back in elementary school, which admittedly was not very often considering he had detention almost everyday. But still, having my apple juice carton ripped mercilessly out of my hands and disemboweled by another man is an image that will haunt me forever.
And now, he had the nerve to come back to my life, and steal *my* money. Hell no. No sir. And so I plotted my revenge. According to Stalkbook, Graham lived in London. Now, I did not have the cash for tomorrow's train fare, so a flight was out of the question, unless I wanted to withdraw from my savings account...which I actually wasn't legally allowed to for ten more years.
So I waited.
I worked extra hours at the StellarDollars, even though my soul withered a little more every moment I stood and smiled at random people who had come to get coffee or milk or whatever the hell. I sacrificed some of my guaranteed interest on the savings account and moved it to an investment variant, where I could chose to invest the money into different stocks or companies.
And I did. I had a plan you see, a plan so grand it would destroy him so utterly, so completely that he would lie broken at my feet, begging for mercy, and I, in my infinite kindness, would deny it. I read online articles, made the correct movements, predicted changes, made gambles. I cried, laughed, and died inside. And through it all only one name filled my mind, one name that fueled my drive, my relentless quest: James Graham: Asshole Extraordinaire.
One day, of no particular import, the call that I knew would come, came.
I stood up in the middle of the conference meeting, and dozens of chairs swiveled around and men in suits stared at me.
"Sir?" One asked, "we have to discuss this quarter's profits..."
I glared at him, and he fell silent. Without another word I stalked out of the meeting room, men and women staring at me as I did, but I paid then no mind. I pulled out my phone and answered.
"Sir, a loan verification from the name of James Graham has come in, asking for 2 hundred thousand," Stephanie said. I'd told her years ago to tell me when this happened. I'd bought out all the other banks in the area. He would have no choice to to borrow from mine, it was just a question of waiting.
And the wait was over.
I grinned. "Stephanie, approve him, but internally make it a loan of two million," I paused, and continued, "and ten - discreetly of course."
Stephanie had known me for years, she didn't ask any questions.
So when Graham got his first payment due he was suitably surprised to find his loan payments about ten times what they had been. He went to the bank enraged, sure there had been an error.
There was no error. The system clearly said he had borrowed 2 million, and now it was time to pay.
Oh and pay he did.
He could only watch as his house was sold, his wife divorced him, his kids hated him, his friends deserted him. I found him on the streets one day, begging with some coins in a cardboard box in front of him. I knelt down, patted him on the back and gave him a ten.
James' eyes widened, and he looked up at me, almost crying. "Th-thank you sir, thank you so, so much!"
I just smiled at him and walked away, whistling a merry tune.
***
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) for more of my work | When you put things down on paper, things sound stupid, this phase usually begins once you start to question your actions. Now this, my friends, is a stupid story and it all began the day I won the darn money.
"34, 37, 12, 96, 25" screamed the radio during the warm and slightly humid month of August. I looked at the damp ticket in my hand and turns out they were the magical numbers. I was thrilled to have won something like this. Never had I ever held faith in something like this. "Lucky me!" I thought to myself as I made my way to the radio station in my beat up Ford. The transaction was quicker than I thought it would be and I crawled tiredly into my cramped, shit hole of an apartment. Things were looking so good for me and I was happy, really really happy. I could now easily pay my alimony. I decided not to rush it and deposited all the money into bank.
I sat down on my couch and tried to relax, but this was overwhelming, it really was. I called up my bud Jake and told him about the news. No one really knows you until you got the dough (hey don't judge me, I know 80k doesn't qualify to be "dough" but it is a lot). I was a relatively lonely human being. I worked at the local laundromat. It had a crappy pay and I was borrowing money from my parents to pay for the house. Jake and I went to have some pizza, I obviously insisted that I would pay. 30$, nothing fancy. Turns out Jake the cunt saw me enter my pin and made a transaction on the internet. My phone beeped and a link led me to the purchase. It was a Minecraft player skin. I called up Jake but he must've blocked me. I was enraged, I head out to the bank to get my pin changed. I never knew where Jake lived, we met up at the occasional party and then at the Bar, but that was about it.
I was determined to find out where this guy lived, he stole my 10$. I needed to find him. In these scenarios money doesn't play a major role no matter how it sounds, it's the individuals shortcomings that do. I flipped through craigslist and found a private detective willing to search for the guy at just 10$ an hour, it was a steal. Two months quickly ran by, I was chilling in my new apartment when I got a phone call from my guy, "YOU GOT SCAMMED, YOU DUMB SHIT"
No worries. I hire two private detectives this time. One to track Jake and one to track the guy from craigslist. I quickly drained 30 grand over the next 3 months.
Finally, my guy found Jake. He was in Ohio. I then killed him in an alleyway and a homeless man saw me commit the crime and even recorded it on his flip phone. I was convicted of 1st degree murder and plead guilty. I lost the rest of my money paying my lawyer. But whatever. Jake can't use his dumb Minecraft skin now.
I am sorry that this story is full of shit. I don't know how to write and would appreciate tips | 2017-07-18T09:15:26 | 2017-07-18T09:02:52 | 3,787 | 16 |
[WP] A Furry Convention was one of the firsts to experience a zombie outbreak. Fortunately, the fursuit wearers seem to be ignored by the walking dead, as if the costumes hides their human presence. | “Step back, he’s been bit!”
“No I haven’t. That’s just the way my furry is supposed to walk.”
Pepper Pug growled. “Don’t you think that, maybe, the middle of a zombie outbreak isn’t the best time to ‘stay in character?’” He formed air quotes to accentuate the point, though the effect was lost under his fingerless mitts. “All of you listen up, and listen up real good. If we’re gonna make it out of here alive, then we’ll need to stick to one speed. My speed. And if you can’t keep—”
“Hey, what makes you the big boss?” interjected Amaretto. “Plus, if you were wearing your coyote outfit, that would make more sense. But Pepper Pug? Come on. He’s like, super slow.”
The group of survivors huddled against the wall was comprised of those individuals lucky enough to have been in a fur suit when the outbreak occurred. It had spread rapidly. A batch of infected glow-sticks, or glow pois, depending on the account, contained enough filamentous fungi to contaminate the entirety of the convention. Once turned, zombies exhibited typical behavior known to many of the attendees by the video games they played, though in this case, a strange phenomenon had manifested itself. Zombies did not bite furries.
“Someone’s coming!” Duke crouched, tightly gripping her mauve German Shepard ears.
It was an infected volunteer. She was still wearing a hand-knit cap with two anime eyes sewn in, though one was splattered by blood. The frames of her glasses were mangled, and she snarled with each incoming step.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god …”
“Shhhh!”
“Don’t w—worry, we’re furries … s—she won’t eat us.” The zombie was now face-to-face with Amaretto, who tried his best to remain composed. “B—b— buongiorno, mio n—nome Amaretto. I’m your little a—amico …” He tried wagging his tail back and forth, but the attempt at being cute was not as successful as it had been earlier that morning, in front of all his fans. Instead, the convulsions more closely resembled those of a family pet who might have mistakenly eaten a lemon peal off the dinner floor. “I’m your l—little amico."
“Woof, woof, woof,” added Mister Dingo. “Woofity woof!”
The furries launched into their respective routines, performed rather hideously by even a layperson’s standards. But after a few minutes of jumbled singing, whirling, and twirling, the infected volunteer departed down another corridor.
“It worked!”
“We’re alive!”
“Hallelujah!”
Once more, the costumed compatriots danced. It was only then that they noticed her. She stood in the doorway to their right, her entire spotted frame obstructing the mutilated corpses of her victims in the room beyond. Snow Leopard Senpai. She was a legend at the convention, and judging by the brain matter and sinewy tissue dribbling from her jaws, she had been contaminated.
In that moment, they knew it was over. Perhaps zombies did not attack furries. But furry on furry? That was another matter altogether.
“Run!” | "The thing is, everyone still thinks we're weird. The truth is we're pretty ordinary folk," said the blue cat, it's bored expression betraying the indigence of its voice, "In fact, it's because of us that this was even stopped."
The cameras stopped rolling, and the reporters stood aside. Years of traditional media and online bullying forever painting a weird portrait of who exactly the "furry community" was. Regretfully, the bored, blue cat was an virologist, and so had been *thoroughly* equipped to deal with the crisis at hand.
They dispersed, leaving behind only the people in costumes to pile into their buses and head home, or to the office for the debrief. Three weeks they'd been out here, combatting this thing, and even now they were still scorned.
"They'll learn soon enough," said a green, mischievous fox, "When their servers all shut down for a week."
"You're a nightmare, Artemisia." The cat replied. Artemisia could only laugh.
"They're lucky it was us. They're so lucky that it was here, and it was *us*." Artemisia patted the cat on its head, stroking it affectionately.
"Yeah but it'd be nice to be taken seriously. Do they even realise how many of us are front line health professionals?!"
"Easy there, Tigress. Soon. *Soon*. They're still just trying to figure it out." Artemisia offered a paw, and brought the cat to sit on the last bus, headed back to base, where they'd both have to publish an equal amount of paperwork on containment, treatment, symptoms, and innumerable things that would cause much commentary.
"Better get a head start," mumbled Tigress, taking off her comically large head and paws, and took a legal pad, beginning with her initial observations.
*Hyperphagia*, she wrote, *that caused the victims to seek out raw flesh. Covering all flesh possible seemed to stymie victim response, unable to find food they remained mostly unresponsive. Contagion was not carried through the water, as first anticipated-* | 2022-09-15T08:42:00 | 2022-09-15T05:23:09 | 53 | 23 |
[WP] In heaven you meet God, and ask him a single question. "God, why did you make the platypus so weird?" You ask. "The what?" God replies confused. | I cast my eyes discreetly downward as I humbly approached the resplendent golden throne. My lowered gaze was partially in reverence and partially due to the blinding rays of light that emanated from the ineffable Figure sitting upon the throne.
"Ask, and ye shall receive," came the chorale tones of a single majestic Voice.
I nodded. I had given this moment much thought. I knelt respectfully before the throne of my Deity, bathed in Its light, and murmured my soul's burning question.
"Excuse me, the what?" said the chorale tones of the single majestic Voice with scorn.
That was a bit of a jolt.
"The...the platypus. Why? *Why, God?"* I cried aloud. "Why is it so FREAKING WEIRD???"
The radiant Face of Divinity took on an expression of distinct discomfort.
"That one," said the Holiest of Holies with the slightest hesitation, "that was a contractor job."
"A *what?"* I cried out before I could catch myself. "A *contractor?"*
"Erm. Ahem. Somewhere between the panther and the prairie dog I got *extremely* bored and, well, I sort of delegated the whole Creation thing for most of the a long weekend. We ended up with some very...interesting creatures."
"No way."
The Face of Everlasting Glory nodded ruefully. "Anteaters," It intoned mournfully. "What the heck?"
"Penguins?"
"Oh, absolutely. And dodo birds too, but the dodos didn't precisely stick around."
"Rhinoceroses," I accused. "Giraffes."
"Of course giraffes," the Almighty responded. "What sort of sadist would do that on purpose? And I was actually rather impressed with the rhinoceros."
"Mosquitos. Cockroaches. Bed bugs."
"I actually did those ones first," said God with a certain pride.
"And when did you get back around to creating humans?" I asked the Alpha and the Omega eagerly.
"Creating...humans?" said the Way, the Truth, and the Light, tilting Its radiant head quizzically. "Why in My Own Name would I ever have done that?"
I reeled.
"You're a load of petitioning pesterers and you never shut up a moment with your "bless me," "forgive me," "guide me"...great Scott, it's overwhelming. All you ridiculous creatures do is multiply, too. I ought to hit you all with a meteor."
I stood for a moment and considered this, shaken. "You never--with the Garden--"
"The Tree thing? Ugh. No, of course not. What sort of asshole--"
"I see," I mumbled dizzily. My worldview had gone rather severely sideways quite rapidly. "But. The Knowledge of Good and Evil?"
"Hubris," the Alpha and the Omega rumbled. "You know as much as any monkey about matters of Good and Evil. Or rather, any random monkey knows as much about it as *you."*
This was a bit much. "I beg your pardon--"
"Yes, but will you get it?" teased the Almighty in an entirely uncalled-for manner. "That's the million dollar question, isn't it?"
"You're a jerk," I informed God.
"Of course," God cheerfully replied, before chucking my naively goggling arse into a lake of eternal fire. "Who told you otherwise?" | "The fucking what"
God be chilling. I never woulda guessed but God is a; bucket hat wearing, dank weed smoking, non-descript, non-racial being that spends his time admiring accretion disks on black holes.
(A little masturbatory if you ask me, but idk, I'm not God)
"Yeah, it's got like a beak lmfao...but no wings, and like, they're mammals but they lay eggs"
God took a pause...or something like it.
"You gotta stop smoking that sound young one"
He pulled his bucket hat a little deeper over his shades, the universe glinting on his frames.
I took a pause, I really needed it.
"A fucking platypus mate, are you taking a piss rn?"
"I mean...well yes..."
"Right, omni-presence, why don't you omni-lookup a goddamn platypus on Google?"
God fumbled with his shades a bit.
"Nah"
"Nah?"
"That wadn't me child"
"Wtf"
"No offense but I'm offended, y'all thought I made that?"
"..."
I took another pause. I find I need those alot when I chat with God, the most high, the almighty, all knowing benevolent deity...
"Fucking Lucifer..." God grumbled his way through his sentence as he relit his material.
"Can I try that?" I ask the Big G.
He takes a huge pull (the greedy fuck) and says: "Aii, but I gotta dip right after"
"Say less"
This parts always been my favorite hanging with God, I can never guess what he'll be smoking that week.
I take a pull. The accretion disk suddenly disappears, a half second later, I hear what has to be the big bang, it's so loud I can feel my heart rattling in it's cage. Colors I couldn't name present themselves to me, I become acquainted with them and Light, their mother.
I am one. I am one.
"Good shit eh?" God says, amused.
I blink. The accretion disk suddenly undisappears. I am me. Just me. I sigh.
"I gotta get to work"
"Same time next week?"
"Yeah, love you big man"
"Love you too youngin, stay safe" | 2022-07-03T15:45:54 | 2022-07-03T14:47:39 | 78 | 42 |
[WP] There's been a murder. You've got five suspects. Each is more eager to confess than the last, every one is adamant that they acted alone, and somehow all their stories check out. | Detective Grantham furrowed his brow.
Twenty five years and he'd never even HEARD of anything like this.
He sighed. "So YOU killed her?"
The man in handcuffs in the interrogation seat seemed to almost smirk. "Yeah. Like I said, I put strychnine in her nightcap."
Forensics had tested the nightcap and found strychnine. However, they also found ricin, a lethal dose of potassium, aconite, and some rare neurotoxin only seen in KGB hits.
"Can we circle back to why you felt compelled to kill your mother, the 90 year old woman?" Grantham asked.
"I hated her. She was a nasty, terrible beast of a woman if you could call her that. Always pitting family members against each-other. She was so toxic, I wasn't even sure the poison would effect her."
This was Grantham's third interview, the first being the cantankerous younger brother to the deceased, the second being the daughter to the deceased. Davis had already interviewed the two granddaughters, so it was up to a game of rock-paper-scissors to decide who'd take the final interview. Grantham should have known better than to choose rock with a paper-pusher.
The insane thing is that all their suspects confessed. All claim to have acted of their own volition, alone, and with no other motive than pure unadulterated spite. The granddaughters were apparently humiliated when granny drunkenly called them dime-store whores on multiple occasions. Shriveled up prudes on others. The younger brother claimed to be bullied by the older sister to no end during both child and adulthood. The Daughter had not a single positive thing to say about being raised by the "narcissistic, bigoted, vile egg donor". Lastly, there was the son he was interviewing now, who gave little specifics further than gut-turning hatred.
A knock at the door interrupted the surreal scene of a killer confessing freely to a murder. Bill from pathology was at the door with what was likely the toxicology report.
"I would have just sent this over email, but I had to see your face when you got it". Bill said, grinning ear to ear. He was nothing if not a great poker pal.
Grantham flipped through the report.
"What!?", He said, as he thumbed through the folder. Landing on the last page, in capital medical print, cause of death: aneurysm. Toxicology found no traces of poison or neurotoxin outside of the 0.30 BAC, likely from her typical night routine. The confessed "killers" turned out to be nothing of the sort.
Seems that even in death she couldn't give any of them the satisfaction. | “Why don’t we arrest all of them?”
It had been a looong night. Staying up, going over evidence. Tesimonies, Security footage, fingerprints, absolutely everything. All 5 suspects say that they did the crime, but they were completely alone. Plus, all the evidence for them lines up. Almost perfectly.
“Why?”
“Their evidence leads to any of the five being guilty. Garuntees it. But I think it also leads to all 5 being guilty.”
“Elaborate, Jones.”
“Here’s the big question. Why are they all confessing? It would make sense if one was confessing, maybe 2 in a very rare instance, but all 5? It can’t be a coincidence.”
“So what’s your point?”
“I think this was coordinated effort. All 5 do something very incriminating, that ensures the target dies, who might I add, died in his very secure house with his own personal body guard. I think that they wanted him down so badly, they got everyone to work together, and only one of the murderers goes to jail. They either don’t care who goes into jail or are all friends that don’t want to see eachother go into prison, most likely, so that’s why all 5 are eager to say they did it.”
Charles thinks.
“You’re either the smartest detective assistant I’ve ever seen, or the dumbest. I suggest you hope for the former, because that’s what I’m also betting on.” | 2021-12-06T18:42:19 | 2021-12-06T13:04:00 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] When she was little, she was cursed to kill anyone she fell in love with. Instead of becoming a hermit, she tasked herself to fall in love with Earth's most despicable human beings. | Elliot Crane was the kind of girl who was made for high school: popular, athletic, clever and above all very beautiful. Her only flaw was that she fell in love like people fell in holes; unwittingly and not for long periods of time.
Her latest fall didn't end in what one would call the right way. Elliot got so close to a scrawny, new student, who had the most perfect smile and whose ancestors were some kind of wizards in eastern Europe a thousand years ago. She fell hard for him but like any other lover, she forgot him after two weeks.
He told her that she was now cursed, forever and ever to remain lonely with no one to love because if she even comes close to loving someone they will die. Unfortunately, it didn't turn out well for him. Deep in her heart, this crazy act he did rekindled her love for him. He was being more confident like she told him he could be. His confidence was his demise.
The authorites were soon on the case and told her, after much crying and begging from her part, that the cause of death was a literal broken heart. His blood pumping muscle was in two individual pieces. She couldn't believe it. One of her best traits, as she saw it, was that she could love everything and everyone.
The universe didn't agree. To hell with her and her loving nature, the world sucks and she should get on the bandwagon of hate. But the only way that would happen was for her to isolate herself and never see anyone again, and she would kill herself before that happened.
Elliot's head was spinning while she watched the news about her case and how no one found an explination for the guy's death when suddenly a "BREAKING NEWS" story came: a child rapist and killer had broken out of prison and was being hunted.
Maybe the universe did want her to love, and this was the sign. She would be cursed to love the shittiest people on earth but at least she would make a difference.
She focused on his face, Let her mind only think about it, and his beautiful blue eyes captured her. It was like she was looking at a crush. Her heart pounded, like he was in front of her and they were about to talk.
Elliot stopped when the strongest headache she ever had hit her. She was forced to take a nap. When she woke up, it was the same channel and the rapist had been found dead not too far from the prison. | I felt the heaviness of the task at hand weighing down inside me. My bones felt like 100 pound weights pulling me down into the ground. But still, I had to do this. I am determined to make a masterpiece of my life with this curse. It can be a gift, I just have to make it so.
I lock eyes with the pale white, dark haired man sitting in the tall, foreboding chair behind the dark, mahogany desk.
"Mr. President," I drawl sickly sweet and put on a smile that nearly sets his heart on fire.
"You are so lovely," he whispers, suddenly pushing away from the desk. He strides quickly towards me and interweaves his hand in the snakelike tresses of my hair. He locks his fingers tightly around the strands and brings my face to his.
All I can think are deep, dark, red, forbidding thoughts. I can't believe I have fallen for such a monster, but thank god. For my love will be his downfall, and my heart will grow weaker as this world grows stronger.
Free of these monsters that gripped so tightly onto her history, the world can be one step closer to healing itself. | 2017-02-05T02:06:56 | 2017-02-04T23:17:10 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] A demon writes messages on your mirror in blood, but they're useful messages, things like "Don't forget you have yoga at 2" or "You're out of milk". | I'm a pretty scatterbrained gal, so I'm usually the first to get caught without an umbrella during an unexpected thunderstorm and I'm always the one who forgets important dates like anniversaries and birthdays, much to my partner's displeasure. I don't really recall when or why the messages began, but it must have started shortly after my run-in with the mysterious yet attractive fellow I met at the grocery store.
"Hi, my name is Lucy. What is your deepest desire?"
I was taken aback by the question, after all, why would I tell a stranger what I really wanted out of life? Surprisingly I found myself compelled to answer, in a trance sort of, and I bluntly replied, "I just want to be on top of things and not forget things anymore! I missed my 7am meeting today since I forgot I had to come in early, and I just found out that I missed the priority deadlines on some of the MBA programs I wanted to apply to."
The man smirked and disappeared without a trace. Without a second thought, I went home, climbed into bed, kissed my husband good night, and went to sleep.
The next morning, it started. I was brushing my teeth when I suddenly noticed jagged letters in red on my bathroom mirror, almost as if it were written in blood. It read, "Your bus pass is out of money. Bring cash." I had totally forgotten about that, and I laughed thinking it was my husband helping out.
"Thanks Todd, for the reminder," I remarked as he walked into the bathroom.
"What are you talking about?"
"What you wrote on the bathroom mirror, silly! Look."
"I don't see anything Kelly, you must not have gotten enough sleep last night."
Confused, I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Sure enough, it was there. I chalked it up to my imagination and continued my morning routine. I didn't think too much about the message but sure enough, once I got to the bus stop, I found that my card was out of money. *That's odd, the message this morning did remind me to bring cash.* I had to call a taxi to work, and didn't think about it.
But the messages kept coming. Sometimes it was "You have a dentist appointment at 3pm," or "It's your best friend's birthday," things I should have already known. But slowly, the messages began containing information that I wouldn't have known otherwise, like when the lottery numbers popped up one morning and I won a couple thousand grand.
Things were going relatively fine until one day, it read, "Your life is a dream simulation. You must end it to wake up." Confused, I decided to ignore it and go about my day. But this message never changed. In fact, all the other messages stopped coming. All of a sudden I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, and soon enough I couldn't even remember who I was. The only thing I could think about was what was written on that mirror. I couldn't live like this, maybe the mirror was right. One fine morning I decided to end it. I stood on the 38th floor roof top of my building and jumped.
I woke up to see a man cloaked in black. He held out his hand for me and I took it.
"Hi, my name is Lucifer. I granted you your deepest desire, now you must grant mine." | "Really? Yesterday you stay silent and today you bother me by reminding me I have yoga at 2?" Anyone would think that I'm crazy, if they saw me talking to myself like that, but when I talk about my own demons it's not a metaphor.
I don't know when my demons first appeared, they've been there from my earliest childhood memory. They're not the kind of demons that tell you to burn the house or to kill your coworker because he ate your lunch. For some reason they love to annoy me and they change and evolve with me. If I hate nails on chalkboard they'll wake me up at 5 am with a noise so horrible that makes you want to put a shotgun in your mouth.
I just started a new job 3 weeks ago that I should've never accepted. My boss is a micromanager and he's constantly reminding me what I have to do, how to do it and everything in between. My demons changed their strategy at the second day. By the third day they had my whole agenda and were constantly telling me what to do. "You're out of milk" Sort of stuff like that.
I try to always see the silver lining, you know if life gives you lemons, make lemonade. So I started to treat them as an annoying Alexa. Of course I'm the only one that can see or hear anything my demons do. I call them my D's, you know why.
So yesterday I didn't checked on my agenda expecting my D's to do their thing. Well, my boss is probably also my personal demon now because neither he, nor my demons reminded me of the report I had to deliver yesterday. My boss came to me as soon as I arrived at the office this morning, sweating and agitated saying that now he'll never be able to trust me again. Claiming that him not reminding me was a test and some other bullshit that I failed. He wants me to stay at lunchtime to finish the report.
Yesterday I made an appointment at lunchtime so I could relax. I was going to attend a new yoga class, but now I'll have to miss lunch and work overtime while my D's leave messages on my computer screen "Don't forget you have yoga at 2". | 2021-07-19T19:46:04 | 2021-07-19T19:14:30 | 45 | 32 |
[WP] You wake up, grab your phone, and open Reddit. The top post has 674k upvotes and has been gilded over a thousand times. It simply says, "The world is ending." | *TRRRRRR*...*TRRRRRRRRRR*....*TRRRRRRRRRR*...*TR*-
I slam that "stop" button as hard as I can. Christ. That motherfucking alarm sound. I hate it more than my mother in law. In fact, I secretly believe it was handcrafted by Satan himself. If you can't bring us to hell, bring hell to us, he must have thought.
The sunlight surging through the window breech is blinding. Yeah, I probably shouldn't have stayed up late. Whatever. As per usual, I reach for my bed-side table. Actually, it's more of a desk. I reach for my bed-side desk. Crispy sock; no. Toilet paper; no. Giant pink replica of a koala's penis; no. Ah, here, my glasses.
I put my glasses on and get up, and grab my phone. Fuck, I forgot to charge it again. No matter, it's monday. I'll be back from work by noon. I sit on the toilet to do my deeds and perform my everyday scroll-through on social media. Instagram. Double-tap. Double-tap. Double-tap. Doubl-- shit, that girl is hideous, undo undo!
*CLOC* - Eww, the water touched my butthole.
I move on to my favorite. Reddit! I LOVE reddit. The way it organizes content by sub-categories! And its design is so simplistic and beautiful! How else would I keep up with daily pics of dead people? How would I catch-up with every-day Thomas The Tank Engine hip-hop remixes? Or, or: beautiful birds with arms photoshopped into them? So cute!
But.. there's none of that. As I open up the app, Everything is on some sort of lockdown. There is only one post, and it is by a reddit administrator.
"The world is ending". 674K upvotes. 343363 comments. The fuck? There's no text in it, just a hyperlink to some government website. Holy shit. I start to shiver. I click the link. [The world is ending.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aeSfBp4UIC0) | Outside of my window, the clouds turned to ash piles on the grass. A ray of sunlight shone on my face and it burned like the devil. I jumped out of the bed which was now on fire and quickly closed the curtains before I had more to clean up. Something was off about this, but the news channels I usually watch were just babbling about politics and hard-bodied, oiled up celebrities. So I did what I normally do and opened up Reddit.
Now, Reddit is always there for me when the news isn't. I know I can trust the opinions of millions of random (possibly insane) strangers more than news corporations that change facts for the highest bidder.
My eyes traced the screen until one post caught my eye. It was a woman cosplaying as Ganondorf and hula-hooping. Oh wait, there was something above it too. I remember now. In bold white text, the phrase "The world is ending" was displayed at the top of the page. 674k upvotes and gilded thousands of times. I was jealous.
They stole my idea. | 2019-01-05T21:47:23 | 2019-01-05T21:30:48 | 102 | 13 |
[WP] You are the child of a superhero and a supervillain conceived during a one night stand. You don't care for heroism or villainy, you just want your parents to get together so that you can have a family. | Part I:
"Mom!" I detested, "I don't want to go to villain school next year!"
"Honey, if you don't go to villain school..." she paused, letting a sigh of defeat pass, "You'll turn out like your father," she whispered. She always got quiet when she talked about dad.
"I don't care! I don't want to be a villain, and I don't want to be a hero either. I don't want to be like you or dad! I don't want to be on call 24/7 or always scheming my next plot! I just want a normal life with a normal family."
"Fine." Mom was clearly red at the cheeks and her gaze was lowered and fixed.
I stomped my way up the spiral staircase back up to my room. All I wanted was a normal life, is that too much to ask for? I didn't want to go to villain school like mom wanted me to, and definitely didn't want my hero certification like dad told me to get: out of the six times I had seen him in my life. The first time I ever met him was in at Michael's Deli. Mom took me to rob their reserves, and right as we were pulling away, a black sports car T-boned Mom's van. She got out to yell, and dad got out to yell even louder. But when she realized who it was she quieted down.
"Is that my son in your van?" he roared. The seat shook.
"Flynn, maybe if you hadn't ditched me that morning you might have met him before this!"
That was the first time I had met dad.
Sitting in my room, I thought about the six interactions I had with my father. Each time, Mom and Dad fought in one way or another. But no one ever won. They were equally as strong. But opposite.
Then it hit me. Vectors. Simple vector addition would give me the normal life I so longed for...
Immediately I sprung to my whiteboard, listing out every bit of information I knew about them. Evening turned to night, night turned to morning, and by breakfast that next morning I had my scheme ready to go.
"Good morning sweetheart," Mom said as she reached for her mug.
"Hi Mom," I said plainly. I turned away, hiding my smug grin.
TO BE CONTINUED.....
&#x200B; | I’m stuck in the apartment again watching their battle. Vicious bolts of lightning and fiery infernos cover the tv screen, and inside the sadness is welling up again.
Mom and Dad; they are mortal enemies who somehow got together for a one night stand and created me. But there’s no family for me. I’m alone in an apartment, where once a week one of them will visit to lure me to their side.
I don’t want it. I don’t have as strong of powers as they do; mechanics and being able to be my own heater are pretty lame powers. I hate what my parents have done to me.
All I have wanted from the beginning, since I had been placed in this apartment, was a family. I want parents who love each other and live with me, watching these battles and commenting on how stupid they are.
I feel everything would be better if I hadn’t been born. And it’s about time I went back in time to erase my existence. The time machine is ready to go, and I’m ready to leave this life behind. | 2018-10-17T06:31:00 | 2018-10-16T21:46:05 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] Write about a world where whenever somebody writes on their skin, it appears on their soulmate's body as well. | It began around 7 PM, a light scratching along the length of my forearm. It tickled, and made my hairs stand on end. At long last, after eighteen years of isolation, my soulmate was trying to reach out. All those years of dragging myself through the day, fueled by caffeine, only to drink myself to sleep, holding out for a special moment. This moment. I took a pen from my desk and wrote on the other arm a shaky "Hi. I'm Matt."
The scratching stopped. I wasn't quite sure how this worked. Do soulmates get to see the ink, or do they just feel the pen? Had I hurt her? I turned away from my computer screen and plopped down into my bed. And then the bleeding began.
My forearm split open before my eyes, as if cut with an invisible knife, spilling blood all over my bed. It burned like mad. Another cut- horizontal, this time, on the back of my forearm. This one, smaller.
I scrambled to find something to tie it up with. The shitty first aid kit I kept with like, 4 bandages, would hardly suffice, and settled for an old towel. Infection would hardly matter when I was in danger of dying from blood loss. My arm was already numb, and the skin kept splitting open.
"911. Yes, send an ambulance. I'm bleeding out from cuts in my arms." I muttered my address, wrapped the towel tightly around the wounds, and pressed, wincing from the pain. I held on for what must have felt like forever until sirens appeared outside my door. I stumbled outside and collapsed.
I woke up in a hospital bed. They'd given me fifteen stitches, a transfusion, and one hell of a bill. My arm stung and itched through the bandages, but I was alive. I could've cried.
In the weeks of my recovery, I tried to imagine my soul mate. A girl who, like me, lived her life a social outcast. Who spent too much time online, cut off from the rest of the world. Who worked herself to death without any recognition, barely scraping by. Who kept waiting for her soulmate to say something, but was afraid. Deathly afraid of rejection. I'd been there. Imagine blowing your chances with the one person you're meant to be with.
We were truly meant for one another. Two of life's biggest losers, wallowing in a shared pit of failure. Imagining that everything would be solved if we just found each other. If she hadn't done it, I probably would've at some point.
But the funny thing is (and yes, there is a funny thing in all that), I chose to keep living. Yes, I'd blown it. I'd never be with the one girl who I'm meant to stay with for all of eternity. But it felt like failing a big test. At least it's over. When the bandages came off, I found one last thing she'd given me, before she passed. A series of scars on the back of my arm, spelling out "Sorry Matt".
[subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) | I can't believe it. On her right forearm is the same tattoo that I have. It's the symbol for fire, not from Avatar. She must've grown tired of hearing that question asked as well. She has the same shoulder scar from my surgery. She must have so many questions. I fell out of a truck, I burned my forearm at the grill at Mcdonald's, don't ask any other questions. I had a strange obsession with cutting, luckily it never got bad. I wanted scars and now I have too many to count. You must have so many questions. I'm sorry, I've been lonely and the solipsism has set in so bad that I'd do anything to get you to talk to me about anything, I like books. Let's talk fantasy or Stephen King.
I approach the woman she's looking at the nutrition facts on a carton of eggs. I turn towards her and make sure my forearm faces her. Don't be weird, be cool, make her laugh. "Hi." I say.
She looks at me up and down, obviously uncomfortable and looking down at me at the same time. "Can I help you?"
I should have did myself up more, like cologne and stuff. "You got my tattoo, that means..."
She cuts me off. "...I've had this happen a few times. I'm married and I got the tattoo after I watched Avatar."
A punch to my gut. Air gone. "I'm sorry. My mistake. Sorry to bother you."
A man walks up behind her and puts his arm around her. They talk, but I don't stay to see anymore. I need to get away. It's not fair, but it's not her fault. I just need to be stronger about my heart, not be like Jim Carrey from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind. Nevermind, I'll try another time. It doesn't change the fact that my heart hurts. I'm sorry, I'm just lonely. | 2018-04-01T21:39:41 | 2018-04-01T20:03:34 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] Every time you die valiantly in a video game it qualifies you for Valhalla, Odin's now a bit confused where all the new chubby warriors are coming from. | Odin slowly eyed up the figure in front of him. He was not impressed. Scrawny, tall, and horribly pale, he seemed to have almost no muscle on him. Even his demeanor carried an awkward confusion, even moreso than the usual amount. It was hard to believe that he was a valiant hero at any point, but death was never wrong, he clearly was destined for Valhalla, otherwise he wouldn't be standing before the king of the gods himself.
Odin shook his head. *Yes,* he reminded himself, *You have seen many heroes who seem weak, but have slain dragons with their wits alone. Perhaps he has accomplished something greater than one may expect.*
"So, hero," Odin boomed, nodding slowly to the man standing in front of him. "Tell me your name."
The man fidgeted a little, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Uh, it's uhm, it's Ben, your... Divinity..."
"Then... Ben... Tell me the tale of your conquests, of your history. Tell me the story of how you bested a great beast, or rescued a maiden from peril." Odin looked to the sky, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "I have heard the legends of many heroes in this place, dear warrior. It was here that I first heard Beowulf recount his struggle with Grendel, heard of Heracles destroy the feared hydra, I have heard so many legends and tales in this very hall, and all of them proving the heroes worthy of this place. There is power in a great tale, dear warrior, and I expect one of the best to be able to tell it."
Ben shifted awkwardly. "Man, I'm just an electrical engineer, I don't... I don't have any tale to tell. I mean, there was one time I got wasted, but that's... Uhm..."
Odin blinked. "None? Hero, you must have a tale to tell, otherwise you would not be here. So stop wasting my time and let me hear it."
"Like, could you, uh, give me an example or something?"
"Slaying a dragon, charging valiantly into battle, you had to have died valiantly to even be here, tell me the tale of your death."
Ben was silent, staring with dead eyes at the giant figure of divinity before him. His voice, as well as his body, was trembling. He sat there, silent, thoughts running through his head. He wondered for a moment what happened if he didn't have any tale to tell. He didn't have anything, he never slew a dragon, he didn't die valiantly, he didn't charge into-
Wait.
Ben grinned. "Okay, then, uh, Odin. I have a tale."
Odin nodded him to continue.
"My allies and I were all standing at the gates to a... Great... Dungeon. We were standing around the corpse of a beast, discussing who took the spoils home." Odin leaned in, his eyes glimmering. Ben grew more confident and continued. "My dearest allies began to discuss, and their words... Uh... Depressed me. They were..." Ben snickered, "Chicken. They claimed there was no way that we could face against the threat ahead. I grew tired of their words. And I drew my blade, then approached the gateway. And without hesitation, I shouted to my allies to join my side, and dashed in with my signature battle cry."
Odin was ecstatic. "Tell me! What cry!"
"LEEEEEROOOOOOY... JEEEENNKIIIINS..!" | "Welcome, *mighty warrior!* A large voice boomed, shattering the darkness I was seeing and bringing forth a blinding light. Slowly, the dazzling brightness faded and gave way to shapes, objects, and.... a hammer?
"I am Odin, overseer of Valhalla. And you, brave warrior, have earned my grace."
*What?!* I thought. Even in my confused state, I was still able to recognize the complete absurdity of the situation.
*Me? A brave warrior?*
"Uh..." I managed to choke out, "there must be some m-mistake," I said to the massive hammer wielding God. He looked at me, only slightly confused.
"I've never fought anything in my life."
Odin's laugh boomed through the great hall. "Of course you have, valiant one. He grabbed a large scroll, allowing it to unravel.
He cleared his throat, and began to read. "Jason the Fearless," he glanced at me giving me an approving nod.
*What? My username?* I thought, suddenly even more confused.
"Battle Statistics: thirty two-"
He froze, the scroll almost falling from his hands, his eyes stretching in shock.
My heart dropped, the shame I had felt so often before returning in full force. *I knew it,* I thought, almost laughing at myself for being deluded. A warrior?
"Your stats..." he muttured.
"I know," I responded, "I didn't want to? Okay? Do you know how sensitive my skin is to the sun? I had to take three vitamin pills a day just to supplement enough vitamin D."
"They're *incredible!* he exclaimed. "Forty-three all barbarian solo runs? A PvP record of 300-0? A near undefeated war clan record?"
He kneeled to the ground, bowing in respect.
"I have never seen such skill. Among the greats of the world: Alexander, Attilla, Genghis, none have led with such skill and strength."
*Wait,* I thought. *Forty-three solo runs? An undefeated war clan record? Was he talking about..."
He placed his crown on my head.
"You truly are the *Clasher of Clans.*
***
[r/conlehwrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)
| 2017-11-09T19:06:09 | 2017-11-09T17:25:57 | 317 | 142 |
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