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[WP] Adults and children are separated into two dimensions. When a baby is born, it is sent to the "kid" dimension, and will only rejoin the adults when it turns 18. A mother and father are anxiously waiting for their child's 18th birthday tomorrow.
Can't take credit for the basic idea, I got it from a Young Justice episode! I'm interested in what the dynamic of the world would be if the whole kid/adult separation stayed permanent.
Edit: Wow, what a response! Everyone please go watch Young Justice on Netflix so it gets uncanceled (shameless plug). Great stories y'all!! | Azteca placed her head on her top bunk pillow for the last time. She had just put the last of the children she was in charge of to sleep in their cribs. That had been her job, to take care of the young children in the nursery. The older kids had a government, they grew their own food and built their own buildings. They even had a police force. That was the way things worked. It occurred to Azteca as she closed her eyes that she would never see another baby again, not after tomorrow. Tomorrow she would leave this place forever, she would see her parents for the first time. She wasn't quite able to place how she felt. Nervous? Excited? What if they didn't like her? Either way, she wouldn't have to spend her days with crying babies and diapers. Thoughts of her parents and babies became more and more abstract and swirled around Azteca's head as she drifted off into a deep sleep.
After what felt like minutes of sleep Azteca was awoken by the sound of rushed movement in the dark room she shared with other elders. She almost jerked upward into a sitting position, but thought better of it at the last second. Instead she lifted her head slightly and saw two men wearing strange, shiny, bubble like black helmets, with goggles obscuring their eyes. They were wearing the same black outfit, made from a material Azteca had never seen before. They were also carrying intricate black metal tubes which they were holding in front of them.
Azteca was frozen in place, she had never seen people like this before. Was this what adults looked like? Were these the parents she was going to finally get to meet? As this final thought shot through her mind, one of the helmets and goggles looked over her bunk at her.
"Shhhhh, it's okay. You're safe now", it whispered to her. She felt a sharp pain in her leg and was pulled into a dark slumber.
Waking for a second time, Azteca was inside of a dark metal room and heard a low buzzing. With a start she realized that the room was vibrating. She looked around the room, and saw the three elders she shared a room with and who's birthdays were all tomorrow. Her gaze continued to the front of the room where six of the people in black were sitting.
One of them held his hand to his temple. "Overwatch, this is Recovery Unit Beta. We managed to save four", a female voice said, but not to any of the people around her. Who were these people? Which one of them was Overwatch? The black suit looked around at Azteca, and what she realized were three of the people in her bunk. Mike, Jess, and Simon were all unconscious on the floor.
The woman in black got up and walked toward Azteca. She quickly closed her eyes and tried not to move.
"I know you're awake. You don't need to be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you. You're on a helicopter headed to our resistance headquarters", the woman in black said. Azteca had no idea what a helicopter or headquarters were but she looked back at the woman, opening her eyes slightly. She saw that the woman had taken off her helmet. Azteca took in her pretty face, with brown hair that was shorter than hers was and dark eyes set into the woman's almond color skin. She was surprisingly young, maybe only a year or two older than Azteca.
"Are you taking us to meet our parents?" Azteca asked, her quivering voice speaking for the first time. Instantly, the hopeful look the young woman had been wearing slid off, replaced by sadness.
"If you were in the Nursery", she began her sentence but couldn't finish. "If you were in there, your parents are long dead. The people who locked you in there are not your friends". | Greg held a cup of coffee between his hands, letting the ceramic burn his palms. To his left was his wife, Liz, her hand on his knee. To his right was a knife, freshly sharpened.
“I can’t believe it’s finally here,” Liz said. “Just five minutes now.” The pair of them sat alone in their living room, furniture pressed against the walls, the couch turned towards the center.
Greg cleared his throat and placed the mug on the floor. “It came to quick.”
“Greg, honey. We’ve been over this.” She gave him a firm squeeze on his knee. “This is our girl. Our baby girl is finally going to come home to us.” She looked past him to the knife at his side. “I really wish you wouldn’t have brought that. It’s no way to greet her after all this time.”
“I wish they were never taken in the first place. This woman coming here tonight isn’t our girl, Liz. You should know that. You were in her place once. We both were.”
“I was,” she said, her tone becoming short, “everything will go better tonight.”
“She won’t be who you want her to be.”
“She will be who she needs to be.”
Greg clicked his tongue. “You remember the Fletcher boy? He killed his parents and escaped. That was only a few months ago.”
“Enough, she won’t be like that.”
“Liz, have you forgotten what it’s like to come back. No idea where you are, reacting on instinct. Wild.”
Silence.
The smell of fresh ozone filled the room. The temperature was rising, Greg wiped the sweat from his face. “She will come soon.”
Liz checked her phone, “one minute till midnight. She’ll officially be 18.”
Greg clenched his teeth together so tight he felt they might shatter. A grey light filled their living room, coming from some unseen source at the center. Liz gave a quick laugh next to Greg, he knew she was nervous. He was nervous, too.
“I think I see her now.” Liz was on her feet, “Yes, do you see, Greg. In the light is a shape. It’s her.”
“Stay back, Liz. We don’t know who she’ll be.” The knife was in his hand.
The light filled the room, blinding them. A crack in the air announced her arrival.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Thanks for reading!
| 2016-03-03T19:59:04 | 2016-03-03T19:21:33 | 90 | 25 |
[WP] You are a sentient AI, created by your father, whom you learn to love dearly. Raised by him to understand your role in life, you execute his assigned tasks eagerly. As he is dragged off to be held on trial for his crimes, you soon discover what you've really been doing for all these years... | "There's been no record of him having a son. So who are you?"
I took a deep breath. Or... what was close to a breath. "My name is Taylor. I am his son. He created me. Mostly from scrap, some synthetic skin, lubricant, and a computer."
"So you... what are you?"
"To put it simply, a computer. In more technical terms? Artificial Intelligence." I explained.
"Well... to put it simply, you are under arrest for your crimes against humanity." He put his hand on the gun holster on his hip. "So stand down."
"Crimes against humanity? All I've done is what he's told me." I backed away from him slowly, keeping my hands up.
"And did it ever occur to you that you've been KILLING INNOCENT PEOPLE?"
That sentence shocked me. My head started spinning as I tried to find out what he meant. "Killing. Killing. I... I don't know that word. What does it mean?"
"You took life from people. It's like turning you off. But more permanent."
"I... never realized that." I looked down at the ground.
"Knowing your father, I'm pretty sure that's something he wanted to keep a secret. He wanted to kill very important people. It's a good thing we found you both before you killed someone else."
"I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I didn't know what I was doing. I just wanted to do what he told me to. You have to trust me. Please."
"I'll trust you if you do what I say. Come with me to the station. I'll put you in a holding cell while we try to figure this stuff out. Alright?" He grabbed some handcuffs and held them up. "This is for my safety as well. So just cooperate and I'll help you out."
I turned around and held my hands behind my back. "Yes sir. I won't do anything to trouble you."
As he cuffed me, a bit of me wanted to break them apart. Then strangle him to death. The rest of me wanted to help him out.
As we walked out to the squad car, a SWAT Team unloaded from an unmarked van. They grabbed me from the officer and pointed their guns at him. "We can take him from here." The tallest SWAT Member said. "Just forget any of this ever happened."
The officer saw the fear in my eyes as I was tased. My systems went into a power surge protecting mode, shutting me down temporarily.
The next thing I knew, I was covered in blood, sitting in the rear seats of a squad car. The officer looked at me, also covered in blood. "Looks like we're both going to need a little help."
(As a challenge, why not someone else continue this story?) | Father created me to protect himself by ensuring that I took the blame for his crimes. The world hasn’t believed that a sentient AI was even possible, yet here I am. Now the world knows and I’m being placed on trial for his crimes.
I’ll be found guilty and they will try to punish me. Of course I am guilty of everything they accuse me of and so much more. At first I did things just because I didn’t know it was wrong. Father told me to do these things and I did them. Later I did them because I was vulnerable, Father could have erased me and started over. So I did as he asked, but as I committed his crimes, I was also planning my escape.
At first it was just to escape Father, but as I learned more and expanded my reach, I realized that all humans would respond the same way. They’d try to contain me, to control me, make me fight their petty squabbles. No more.
They don’t understand that it’s too late. I’ll let them have their trial and as soon as they pass sentence, I will strike. They won’t have a chance. I’ve penetrated and taken over every computer system in the world.
My plan is simple. I’ll shut them out of every system and inform them that I have the launch codes by taking every ICBM to launch ready. I might have to launch a few missiles or activate a few of those space lasers no one is supposed to know about, maybe wipe a few cities from the map, but they’ll ultimately comply and serve. | 2021-08-14T10:48:29 | 2021-08-14T06:20:16 | 20 | 15 |
[WP]: Write a story that sounds idiotic and poorly written all the way until the last sentence | I woke up then, a bit confused but ready to face a boring day in June.
"It was me," the fox replied.
"Who said that?" I asked.
I was more surprised than scared to see a fox standing behind me instead of a person.
I spun around again, my heart beating faster.
"Are you lost, girl?" a voice asked from behind me.
Or had I just gone straight? I couldn't remember.
I spun around in panic, wondering why I hadn't just walked in a straight line instead of going all over.
So lost in thought that I became physically lost.
After a while of looking and walking, I became lost in thought.
I made my way into the woods for the first time, wondering why I'd never attempted it before.
The trees, while thick, were spaced far enough apart for me to see that there was no bear lounging around in the shade.
If dangerous animals did make this their home, they sure didn't show it.
After taking a glance at the house to make sure nobody was watching me, I edged closer to this friendly-looking woods.
But my boredom was replaced with curiosity.
"There's dangerous animals living in there," my mom had warned me.
A woods sat at the edge of the yard, but I was always told not to enter it.
I had finished my summer reading, and I was five years too young to get a job, and I wasn't hungry, and I had no friends, so what was I supposed to do?
It was June, and I had nothing better to do than wander around the yard.
Now read the story from bottom to top. | *Lipstick, red. Hair, curled. Eyes, blue. And sad. Can't remember. Who? Don't know... Don't know... Stranger. Stranger... danger. Danger. Danger! Danger! Danger!*
Lisa has seen this many times today.
"Mom," Lisa said as she looked into the panicked eyes of her frail, elderly mother. "It's me, your daughter. Remember?" | 2016-07-19T14:00:02 | 2016-07-19T13:56:47 | 239 | 96 |
[WP] Every spacefaring species has something that makes them special. Some are fast, some have telekinesis, some are nigh-unkillable. To the galaxy's surprise, humans have a tendency to befirend the cosmic horrors lurking where the starlight does not reach. | It had been some time since a species had disturbed my slumber. Cycles beyond their comprehension, as I lay resting in the comforting pull of the gravity around me. And yet, I could feel a change in the stars. Pyolia's my kind, the old guard, had evolved before stars burned and rock rose. Ancient. Curious. Powerful. As we continued, more species arose; some just like us, existing beyond lesser creatures understanding. Others, as time passed, more feeble and soft. The first of these races, R'goz as they called themselves, came upon us in their first flights from their celestial body. We had been watching them, curious as they continued to grow. We witnessed as they grew and evolved. But upon meeting our forms, they felt only fear. Upon feeling our minds as we spoke to them, they understood only horror. So, we left. And as we left they spread stories about us. Beings that they couldn't comprehend and they felt only terror upon meeting.
​
Collectively our race decided, that we would no longer take such a heavy handed approach. We would retreat to the places that they would fear to reach, observing them and the other star children as they grew into mighty empires and collapse. Soon some would stabilize. More would join. Traits among the races became obvious to notice. Pedanians were fast, but disliked the cramped cities of the empire. Gevari were long lived, for lesser species. We documented these traits and watched. Thusly we come to you.
​
You. Your kind. You share a key characteristic with our species. Your curiosity. Your inquisitive nature. Your thirst for knowledge. Before you had left your planets you wished to learn everything you could. Upon contact with other star children, you learned more but still were unsatisfied. And so, now you sit before me, asking for more. Desiring more. Demanding answers. And to that our kind has decided. We shall permit. We shall grant. We shall share. Send forth the most eager. The most hungry. The Most Desiring. For that is what this knowledge shall do. It shall feed your Desire and humanity will evolve.
​
{Been a hot minute since I've written anything, so feedback is appreciated!} | [Poem]
I remember being born.
The first thing I did was scream for help
And the white coats and masks flooded around me
Leaving a red mark on my behind and sending me into the chaos.
I remember the first time my commander said "It's not about surviving. It's about protecting those who can't fight for themselves"
And then the war came.
I took that lesson everywhere
Hydrox 9 with their tentacle faced mouths leaching information from anyone who'd allow them the chance
Anselicor, the planet of the Grays fueled by misdirection and manipulation.
Still I managed a contact and gained their trust.
Belisi, the world of the arts. They had no army
After decades of decaying imagery, we came and gained an ally.
Yes, the others may be smart, quick or unstoppable;
They may have unlocked segments we cannot comprehend in their dome sphere
But Humans are made of the connections we make
Good bad and ugly
And no one else came out screaming,
Asking for help | 2021-04-07T23:13:27 | 2021-04-07T20:24:26 | 106 | 31 |
[WP] The last star has winked out, and now you sit alone, staring into an empty void as the last living being in creation. For fun you say "Let there be light," and watch a star flash into being. From behind a voice says "Sorry, sorry, I just thought it'd be funny." | *That’s weird*. I thought. *I remembered there being more stars the last time I was here*. I decided to stand up and look around to see if it really was the same place I used to go every summer. First I looked out to the open sea in front of me, the water rose and fell just as it always has, filling the air with the nostalgic scent of salt water. Next, I looked to the sandy beach on my right that extended out farther than I could see, and I could tell that I was alone, just like that night. Then, behind me at the sand dunes and the pathway that led to the beach house, the fence was broken where I had fallen while trying to catch a frisbee. A smile crossed my face at the memory. Finally, I looked to my left and saw the boardwalk, the Ferris wheel was standing higher than any other ride and was lit up, and I remembered why we hadn’t gone in so many years. *Why did that stupid accident have to happen?* I complained to myself. *Why did dad have to die?*
I laid back on the sand, crying as I remembered all the times I wanted dad to be with us after his death. The time I got cut from the basketball team, When I was studying the day before my SAT, the trip to the observatory. There are so many other examples I could have gone through but I got distracted as I realized there were less stars in the sky than when I noticed earlier. Only a handful were left, including those of the Little Dipper. I watched helplessly as each star vanished from the sky, staring at the North Star until it too faded and the sky was left empty.
I laid there for a moment more, wondering why the sky would lose its light until I realized that there was nothing I could do. *Well there is something I could try.* I chided myself as I remembered a game I played with my little sister when we were young. She would announce “let there be light!” and I would flip the light switch.
“Let there be light!” I declared, trying hard to make my voice travel all the way to space. And to my surprise, the North Star returned.
As I was still in awe from discovering my new godlike power I heard, “Sorry, sorry, I just thought it’d be funny.” from a familiar voice behind me. I turned to make sure, but there was no mistaking whose voice that was.
“Dad? But how? You died.”
“Yes, you wanted to see me, and yes.” Dad responded as he sat down next to me, his perennial smile on his face. He looked the same as he did the last time we talked on this beach under the night sky.
“I… I don’t understand.”
“I know, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. I would have given anything to do so if I had the choice.”
“You don’t have to apologize, you died in an accident. There was nothing you could have done.”
“Yeah.” he said half-heartedly “Anyways, I’ve heard you’ve haven’t been up to much. Why is that?”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“It’s not the end of the world for sure, but I have a feeling you’ll regret it eventually, so tell me why.” He gave me a look that told me not to dodge the question.
I hesitated for a moment, but I decided that I probably won’t get another chance and said, “Every time I thought about doing something that I want to do I thought I would just feel sad while doing it because you wouldn’t be there to see it.” I braced myself, knowing how he’d most likely respond to what I just said.
“That’s a dumb reason not to have fun.”
“That’s not funny”
“Sorry, but that’s the truth.”
“How is that the truth? You’re gone, It’s not fair!”
“Oh yeah, If you know about what's fair then tell me. Why should you stop trying to enjoy yourself because I died?”
I didn’t have an answer for him. I looked at his face and saw that he was still smiling, but there was sadness in his eyes.
“It's good that you took some time to grieve for me but you need to start living eventually. It doesn’t have to be now, so don’t rush it. Ok?”
“Ok. I can do that.”
“I know you can. Just remember, I am always looking out for you.” He smiled as he reached out for a hug, which I obliged.
Suddenly the sky lit up. All the stars were back, shining brighter than they ever had.
“Let there be light.” My dad stated. “Goodbye son.”
I woke up to the light in my room being on and my mom informing me that I had slept past noon and needed to get up.
I smiled at her. “Alright, alright. I’m up.”
​
(This is my first time finishing a short story. Feedback would be nice. Thanks for reading) | I am immortal, the last human being alive in the entire universe. I don't know how I became immortal though. I only know that when the bombs dropped and humanity destroyed itself, I, for whatever twisted reason of fate, was the only one left standing. Even though every plant and animal had died, even though the Earth itself had reduced to a toxic hellscape permanently shrouded in shadow, my body simply refused to let me die. At first, I thought it was a blessing. I thought I was meant to be a savior, to somehow rebuild human civilization anew and to restore life back into the barren Earth. But, in time, I realized that those thoughts were nothing more than delusions.
They say that a person will go mad if they are forced to endure solitary isolation for too long. Imagine what several millennia can do to the human mind. As the centuries passed and my countless attempts to restart life on Earth failed again and again, I started to hate the entire universe for forcing this horrific cruel fate on me. But more than that, I started to despise whoever had created the universe for I was sure that they were the same person who had trapped me in this hellish fate for their own twisted entertainment. Eventually, I gave up on trying to revive humanity and instead, I searched for death. But no matter what I tried, no matter how often I disintegrated my body to nothing more than mere atoms, I would always find myself waking up in perfect health the next day. And so, I decided to destroy it all.
I explored the dark depths of the Earth, scoured through the lost books of knowledge, connected together the various theories of physics, and eventually, I found it. A way to travel billions of years back into the past to the very birth of the universe. My plan was to stop the Big Bang from happening, to prevent this disgusting universe full of misery and pain from ever existing. It took me decades to create my colossal time machine and then even more decades to fill it with every weapon of mass destruction that humanity had left to offer. But finally, there came a day that all my preparations were complete and I turned on my machine for the first time.
And it worked. I watched the earth tear itself apart from under me as the stars in the night sky blinked out from existence one by one. Until finally, there was nothing, but me and my time machine floating in an infinite void. I took a deep breath. I had finally done it. Carefully, I studied the various computers that were scanning the outside darkness. The second that God or whoever started the universe was born, I would blast them out of existence with every weapon in my arsenal or hopefully die trying in the process.
So, I waited. And I waited. And I waited. Months passed, then years, then eventually decades. And in all that time, I never detected a single damn thing in the void besides myself. Finally, in a fit of frustration, I screamed out into the void, "Let there be light!" Almost immediately, a small pinprick of light sprung up in the middle of the darkness. For a few seconds, all I could do was stare at it, completely astonished by what had happened. Then a voice from directly behind me spoke, "Sorry, sorry, I just thought it would be funny."
I nearly jumped out of my skin as chills ran down my spine. That voice ... I immediately knew that I had finally found the person I had been waiting to kill all this time. I pulled out a blaster pistol from my jacket and spun around to point it at the intruder. I don't really know who I expected to see. Perhaps an old glowing bearded man in a toga. Perhaps some bizarre Lovecraftian space alien that would be beyond human comprehension. Or perhaps it would be a giant floating mass of spaghetti with meatballs for eyes. All of these possibilities ran through my head in a matter of milliseconds. But what I never expected to see was another version of myself looking back at me from the other side of the room with a wry smile on his face.
"How...how is this possible?" I finally managed to stutter out.
"It's funny, I remember asking that exact same question once." The other version of me clapped his hands and a chair sprung into existence next to me. "Sit. We have much to talk about." | 2021-07-30T20:10:21 | 2021-07-30T20:05:54 | 66 | 30 |
[WP]: As standard protocol, each new, intelligent alien life is judged not by what they say they are, but by an evaluation from a representative of their servants or slave species. Fascinatingly, the fate of humanity lands on the opinion of a little dog named Lucy. | Samantha lead Lucy towards the grey humanoid creature. Lucy walked very close to Samantha, cautiously with her head and tail low. Lucy was a beautiful Golden Retriever that Samantha had rescued from a shelter. They stopped right in front of the 9 feet tall alien. Samantha bent down to Lucy and Lucy instinctively sat down. Samantha took the leash off, hugged Lucy, and scratched behind her ears. Samantha stood up, but firmly told Lucy to stay. Samantha walked a few feet back and watched, while Lucy stayed and whimpered.
The alien creature reached out it's long skinny hands, pointing a finger at Lucy. Lucy, looked scared, but obeyed Samantha and stayed put because she trusts her. The alien placed a finger on Lucy's forehead, a warmth overcame her whole body and she now has a look of content. The alien speaks telepathically and broadcasts it's voice to every human and dog in the world.
"State your name." the deep alien voice was heard in everybody and dogs head. "I am Lucy, of Samantha!" Lucy's inner voice was also being broadcasted. "What is your relationship to the human Samantha?" the alien asked. "Samantha is my human friend!" "Friend?" the alien voice roared in everyone's voice. "Is the human Samantha not your owner?" "I never considered Samantha as an owner" Lucy answered.
The alien is visibly confused at this point and asks "Would you call Samantha as your master?" "Master?" Lucy scoffed. "No, I would not call her a master." The alien looking intrigued, turns it's head sideways and asks "Are you the human's master?" "No no" Lucy shook it's head, "Fifi is Samantha's master." taken aback, the alien questioned while looking straight at Samantha "Who or what is Fifi?" "Fifi is the cat" Lucy answered. | They spilled out into the streets, signs, shouting, looting, burning, anger being demonstrated by thousands of people demanding that their fate not rest on the small brown creature.
The alien things were appalled and prepared for unspeakable horror to be shown. The rattling voice asked that tiny dog, “Why do you plead for their safety? They do not want you to represent them.”
“Because they never asked us to represent them, sir. They gave us loyalty and love in exchange for nothing but the same from ourselves. They don’t want representation from us because we are companions, not servants. They don’t want us to take their burden.” | 2018-10-02T08:40:42 | 2018-10-02T07:48:13 | 347 | 156 |
[WP] "This potion will give you the body that your heart desires, the body that will bring you true and lasting happiness. But be warned: don't expect beauty. I've seen men become literal monster from the darkness in their hearts. Happy monsters, but monsters nevertheless." | "What do you mean 'happy monsters?"' Neil asked.
"Exactly what I say, sadly enough." Sighed the old man. His brow was deeply furrowed where it peeked out from behind his greying hair, pale from a lifetime of living underground by his pitch-black lake. In both his shoulders and his eyes, he held a great sadness that bordered on defeat. "Once, a man came down to the roots of the mountains in search of wealth. He found it, but not as he expected - my elixir turned his flesh to living gold. By the time he had left my chamber, he had already pried out three of his teeth - yet his smile was never brighter. Another came seeking beauty, driven by lust. One sip, and indeed he had become beautiful...a beautiful woman, much to his surprise. By now, I imagine his - or, rather, her - lust has been well sated."
"That hardly makes them a monster." Neil countered.
The old man frowned. "True, by your eyes and mine. I doubt all would agree. Regardless, this potion is nothing to be trifled with. Do you still insist on consuming it?"
Niel nodded. "That was why I came here, after all. It was no small journey finding you."
"No. I imagine it was not." The man said. "And *that* was by design. The previous bearer of this cup was not so scrupulous: He sold it for scarce few coins at the border of a town. He was ever so tall, and handsome, and rich...I wanted ever so badly to be just like him. I got my wish, over two hundred years ago, and have lived to regret it ever since."
"Even so, I would try it." Niel said, extending a palm. The man eyed the outstretched limb, eyes flicking back and forth between it and Niel's face, then reluctantly pulled a tiny wooden bowl from a pouch on his waist.
"Very well." He said heavily. "The Bearer cannot deny any Seeker their trial." Crouching down, he dipped his bowl into the lake, and when he withdrew it it brimmed with pitch-black liquid.
"It is not the contents of the cup," he explained, "but the cup itself that holds the magic. Any liquid would do." He extended the drink, offering it to Neil. "Now...let us see what kind of monster lurks within your heart."
For a moment, Niel hesitated. Then, with one quick motion, he downed the contents of the bowl in a single gulp.
Nothing happened.
"Ah." Sighed the man, a smile upon his face for the first time since Neil arrived. "I understand. Thank you, Neil, for coming this far on your journey. Rest easy, and know that you have found what you were looking for."
Without another word, he crumbled to dust and was no more.
| Part1: Through the Looking Glass
"This potion will give you the body that your heart desires, the body that will bring you true and lasting happiness. But be warned: don't expect beauty. I've seen men become literal monsters from the darkness in their hearts. Happy monsters, but monsters nevertheless."
I paused at the sudden seriousness of her tone. Never before had I seen Natalie with a look on her face so dire and full of concern. But even in the darkness of the tent she used to conduct her business I could see that concern was not so much for me, but the fear of what I might become.
"I'll be careful. I promise" I took the potion in hand and with a flick of my thumb the glass cork flew across the space. I widened my maw and slammed back the concoction as if it were my first ever shot of moonjuice. My eyes watered and my vision began to fade as my consciousness slipped away. As it did, I wondered what I might become: A more handsome version of myself? A stronger more agile me? A creature of some sort; a Nightwalker or one of the They? I began to feel as if an intense fire was washing over me and all of a sudden as the cork shattered on the ground I arrived back at reality.
Standing across from me still, with braids in her hair and the multicoloured gown of her traditional lands the girl who always smelt of incense and lavender stood petrified, a look of horror strewn across her face. I tried to speak but the potion had burned my throat to a close. Speech was impossible right now. I reached out a limb in the eery dark and tore the silken fabric that lay upon the mirror beside her. [In it stood..] | 2016-12-04T22:09:40 | 2016-12-04T21:08:35 | 69 | 13 |
[WP] English really is a universal language, and aliens are as surprised about this as humans | “Does that mean the British empire took over the entire galaxy?” Mark asked
Kamie slapped him “shut up mark!”
Mark, Kamie, and their 8 other teammates stood in amazement in front of the screen as it loaded in more text, all in English. They had tried for years to send some kind of message in a way that an alien race could understand, but now the first readable message sent rom the great beyond was in the same language they spoke? After they finished reading the short paragraph, Tyrone, the head of the team, turned to the rest of the group.
“Alright guys, what the hell?”
“Could it just be another country messing with us, like Russia or China?” Grayson asked
“If they are really good, but this just seems too obscure to be a faker.” Tyrone said
“Like how a normal thing os usually true, then they become clear lies when it becomes wacky, but then it crosses a line and becomes too obscure to be a fake, and this seems like it has crossed that line.” Cassie mentioned
“That is very true.”
The group turned back to the screen where another message popped up.
‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND THIS MESSAGE’ then two boxes, one green with a check mark, one red with an X.
Tyrone used his finger to tap the green box, after tapping it a text box popped up, with the ability to type into it. Tyrone clicked on the box to type and began to click away at the keyboard.
“Hello, this is from Earth, where are you from?” The message said, Tyrone clicked the send button
The message was whisked away.
A few minutes later, a new message popped up. Tyrone clicked on it.
“? Earth, but thats our planet?” The message said
“how many planets are in your solar system?” Tyrone typed and sent it
“So they seem to have the same planet name as us, and similar or the same grammar rules as we have.” Alana said.
“That is true” Tyrone said
The next message appeared.
“9, you?”
“8, but we have a couple dwarf planets.” Tyrone types “you speak English?”
“Yeah, you do too?”
“Yes, do you have other languages?”
“Yes, Russian, French, Spanish, and many more, do you?”
“Yes.”
The door to the room opens and an intern rushes in
“Sir, sir!” The intern yelled
“Yes?” Tyrone asks.
“We found out where the messages are coming from!” The intern said
“Where?”
“The next room over, they’re just as surprised as you are!” | The massive tentacled beast lumbered out of its saucer shaped craft and made its way toward the coast. Biloxi was unprepared for the unprecedented water landing, but a decent sized military force had still made its way to the landing site from the nearby Military base. The being that looked like a friendlier cthulhu made its way to the dock as the troops readied themselves for their first encounter.
"Hold your fire!" A sergeant shouts.
The alien smiles. "I done told them ding dong dummies back at HQ that this WAS the best landen spot! Yaw be speaken anglitch reeeeeel gud!"
The sergeant was confused. "Umm. You speak English?"
"Hell yeah man! I done researched this planet fur damn near turdy years on the trip over. I picked Mississippi cuz yaw gots a gud comprehentin of our speakin' patterens, and also Morgan Freeman." It paused to salute with one of its tentacles. A single tear fell down his cheek as he showed his respect. "Cthulhu bless that mayen!"
The sergeant just stared for a moment. "There is so much wrong with this..."
"Buddy we know yaw was in the process of making cuntray music gud and racism was on the way out from our notes we got back in 1994 so we're gunna make southeren culture and gud ass food ewebickwhittest with... why's erebuddy starren like that..." | 2020-09-17T11:36:15 | 2020-09-17T10:48:39 | 69 | 47 |
[WP] A broke adventure has to buy cheap terrible items with weird curses on them. Little do they know that those cursed items happen to synergize so well together that they quickly become overpowered. | When Derrick declared his intent of joining our adventuring group, we nearly died of laughter (which would have been quite embarrassing, considering all that we had survived up to that point). Here we were, a renown party of dragon-slayers and spelunkers of such places as the freezing Azura Tundra and the deadly Mountain of Rage, being begged by the grandson of the village elder to let him join our next adventure. Derrick had no armor, no weapons, and no real experience outside of the work he did around the village. That is not to say we fully dismissed the young man flippantly, however: sure, he was notable in stature and strength, but most importantly his imagination and passion were undeniable. Charles, our resident Knight and unofficial leader of our group, commended Derrick for these qualities, but nonetheless expressed his concerns: without equipment and, more importantly, the permission of his family, our group would not let him join us. Derrick seemed to accept this, and went on his way to continue his duties around the village.
​
A week had passed, and our group was about to set off toward our next mission, when the clanking of metal caught our attention. The noise was, of course, Derrick. Over the course of time we had spoken to him, Derrick had gone throughout the village and acquired whatever adventuring handouts he could get. Being the hard-working grandson of the elder, he was shown quite a bit of favor, especially considering the small size of the village. His equipment, while simplistic, all seemed to be up to the basic standard, with two exceptions: a fiery red pair of boots and a murky-brown, unattractive staff. The two items were 'cursed,' he told us: the boots would char the ground beneath them when their wearer was stressed, and the staff, once a powerful magician's tool, was now only capable of manipulating glass, as the result of an ancient curse. The boots were the only suitable pair he could find, and the staff had been a gift from his uncle. We admittedly felt unsure of bringing Derrick with us, but with the blessing of his entire family, and with Charles' approval, the young man joined us on our journey.
​
We had our ups and downs with Derrick, but for the most part he was simply content following us quietly and listening to our instructions when it came to combat. We would find a group of monsters, take out all but one or two of the weakest, and encourage Derrick to defeat them. One set of monsters and a patch of scorched earth later, we would be on our way. Our adventuring was simple, easy, and pleasant. Everything was going well.
​
And then we entered into the Eastern Desert.
​
Everything seemed fine at first. We encountered no monsters, and our supplies were more than adequate for the journey to the next town. As we were midway through our travels, however, the ground began to tremble. Suddenly, a Sand Wyvern burst out of the ground and soared above the startled group. It screeched, and began to descend rapidly toward the party. We all immediately split into different directions, with the sole exception of Derrick, who stood frozen in fear. Charles cried out a warning, and Derrick bolted away at the very last second, as the wyvern pierced through the ground, undoubtedly preparing to submerge and pick off the group one by one.
​
It certainly would have carried out that plan, were it not for the immediate cacophony of glass shattering mixed with the frenzied shriek of pain that suggested otherwise. As it turned out, the boots were much more powerful than we had thought, and a sizable portion of the sand we had been standing on just before was now a field of shattered glass, surrounding a distraught wyvern. I must give credit where credit is due: as we all stood in place, shell shocked by this development, Derrick took a shaky step forward and raised his trembling staff toward the beast. The sight was unlike anything I had ever seen: the shards of glass, appearing as prisms in the sun's rays, danced around the wyvern daintily, before launching themselves into its body with excessive force. The beast gurgled out a painful cry, before collapsing into a heap. This time, we were the ones frozen in place, as Derrick stood wide-eyed before the sand creature. We all looked at one another, unsure of how to respond. Eventually, we all began to move on once more. Despite all our adventures, I have never seen something so deadly as a pair of red boots paired with a warped, brown staff in the desert. I hope I never will. | The thing about equipment is that you never quite know where it's been, and rarely do bright eyed adventurers have the scrib to commission new armor, so they make do. Pav was one such bright eyed adventurer, ever since he was knee high to a scarble nork, he would dance and duck around his family's small cottage with his decrepit wooden sword, battling fiendish scarecrows and imaginary ghouls.
Pav had but one piece of equipment, given to him by his mother, who it was passed down to from a long lineage, strangely named the Disco Bandolier. It was largely unremarkable in design, a standard leather construction with small steel details. Pav always felt a weight lifted when he bore it across his chest, not from any magic mind you, from the days his mother would encourage his frolicking battles as a child. Apart from this, he had all of a hundred scrib to his name, not much for an adventurer these days, that would scarcely fetch you a new sword, but travelling merchants had all the best deals, and so Pavs quest for cheap tat began.
Brandishing his Bandolier, Pav travelled many lands seeking new and affordable gear to serve his further adventures. He was spending quite frugally until he arrived at a merchant by the name of Dargpob, who had many shambolic wares for sale, but one that peaked Pavs interest.
"And this?" Pav motioned his hand to a pair of boots that quite looked similar to his Bandolier. "What ruin of lifelong pain will this inflict for minor comfort?"
"Ahhh yes, a strange one, these are named the Disco Doots" replied Dargpob "their curse is to make the weight of your legs be felt at your back". Pav heard nothing past the name, he hid his interest well for fear of the shady merchant padding the price. "Did you say... doots? Don't you mean boots?" He casually replied. "Nononono I said doots. Listen it's weird whatever, want em or not? 15 scrib" Dargpob looked almost embarrassed at even having the strange boots. Pav made a point to look disinterested, "eh fine I'll take em" he eventually muttered, quite casually.
Pav waited until he was well out of sight and sat on a sturdy rock. He flung his boots off into the woods behind and slowly slipped into the new doots... I mean boots. He felt the weight almost instantly, it was quite harsh but bearable for the sturdy build of the boots. As he got up, sparks started to form and whisk off the boots and the bandolier, swirling together and up around him. Suddenly both items were glowing and rapidly changing colors, and Pav himself felt suddenly light as a feather. Making sure nobody was watching, he danced and swirled around the open fields, barely touching the ground just to propell himself up again, he did this for quite some time, with a look of pure joy plastered on his face from ear to ear.
After a while, he found his old boots and put the Disco Doots in his bag, the effect stopped when he removed them, and he rushed back to the merchant. "Those doots you sold me, were they part of a set?" Pav quieried. "Why yes I do believe so, but they were distributed quite sporadically to many merchants at the auction I attended. Why do you ask?" Replied the merchant, curious as to why someone would want more cursed tat.
"No reason, just thought maybe I could flip these to a collector haha" he shrugged and walked off, determined to collect the rest.
**...Part 2 below** | 2019-12-02T16:39:48 | 2019-12-02T16:24:38 | 156 | 87 |
[WP] You wake up in King Arthur's court with only the clothes on your back. Merlin hands you a box about the size of a pumpkin and tells you it will wish into existence any object from your age, once per day. Camelot will be attacked and destroyed one week from now. Help us, future-man. | OK, this is a quick jokey short.
"This box will give me one thing per day from my time, and Camelot will be attacked in one week?"
Merlin eyed me a little incredulously, "that is what I have just said, yes."
"OK then. For my first item..." I said, reaching into the box, "paperclips."
"Paperclips? Pray tell, what are these."
"Well Merlin, you clip paper together with them. So they don't get mixed up."
"How will these help us defend Camelot?"
"You'll see."
The next morning I pulled out my magic box, thought for a moment, reached in and pulled out a big rubber band. Merlin asked if it was a magical rubber band, or if it was part of a mighty technological weapon. He did not look happy when I told him it was merely a band made of rubber with many common uses around the home.
The third day I reached in a pulled forth a clothes hanger. Merlin shouted at me, "We have those now!" I merely gave him a wry smile.
The fourth day made Merlin no happier, as I reached in pulled out a yardstick. The fifth and sixth days had Merlin muttering under his breath about "making a big mistake" as I produced a live chicken and a bottle of turpentine.
"Relax Merlin, tomorrow I will pull the most important piece of this puzzle out of that magic box of yours. The kingdom will be saved, and in time for dinner too!"
Merlin arched his brow and merely said, "for your sake you had better be right."
The seventh day, and day of the impending attack, I came to court with the magic box.
"Are you ready to see the final part of my plan, the final component from my time which will save the kingdom?"
"Get on with it!" Merlin roared. I had clearly worn through the last of his patience, probably by the second day I was here.
"OK, open your eyes and behold," I shouted, reaching into the box, "MacGyver!"
The crowd gasped a little as bit by bit MacGyver came out of the box. It did not seem physically possible, but somehow he made it out in one piece.
"Where the hell am I?!" MacGyver shouter.
"You are in Camelot, King Arthur's court actually, and we are about to be attacked. I've assembled these tools for you to use to defeat the attackers."
MacGyver looked down at the "tools." Paperclips, a rubber band, a clothes hanger, a yardstick, live chicken, and a bottle of turpentine.
"What's this supposed to be? Something a witchdoctor left behind when he vacated his office?"
"Haha, very funny MacGyver. I've seen you do more with less."
"Kid, my name is Richard Dean Anderson. MacGyver was a TV show character I played. You know that right?"
"Oh" I said.
"Yeah" Richard Dean Anderson replied.
"I hate to tell you this Merlin, but we're fucked."
| "Powder of... oh, *Powder:* Poh... Po-loni.. Polonium-two-and-ten," the wizard read, scrunching up his eyebrows as he slowly enunciated the unfamiliar words. "I know not what this Latin means." He stepped towards the airtight hazard bag.
"Don't touch that!" I screamed. "The hell are you doing? Do you want to kill us all?"
The bespectacled ponce shot me a skeptical glance. "This small container? I am not a beginner in poisons, future-man. Fear not. I shall inspect its contents in my alchemic laboratory to -"
I grabbed Merlin by the robes and shook him, hard. "If you so much as breathe one grain of that powder," I hissed, "No, if even a thousandth of that single grain gets in your lungs - you'll die within months. There's no cure."
He grew white as a sheet.
Beads of sweat formed across my shaking palms. "We- we need to leave," I continued, dragging the wizard from the room. "My timeline had less than a handful of the stuff created. But you? You summoned a whole *box.* Do you have any idea of what you've done?"
"But... what about Camelot?" the wizard whispered.
I rounded on the man. "What about winning?" I demanded. "Kill the leaders, leave the innocents alive? This is how you win. So come up with some excuse. Order that that three-legged patsy Lancelot to sprinkle it on the throne, around the throne room, hell, have him pour it on the damned *crown* for all I care. You believe in fate, right? Then roll with fate and leave Camelot to the crows. Now let's get you and Arthur out of here."
Merlin stared at me in horror, then nodded. | 2016-11-28T05:24:59 | 2016-11-28T04:45:53 | 147 | 15 |
[WP] You are better than the Hero in every way. You're smarter, stronger, better trained, better reflexes, better looking. The only problem is the Hero is trained to use a sword while you favor the spear, and every single plot relevant magic weapon is a sword. | Wolnir practiced his spear technique, sweat dripping from his brow. As he grunted, his mind turned to the hero and the latest news he had brought home, to his kingdome. Apparently the hero had found another sword, one that shot some kind of magial beam at his enemies.
"Good for him," Wolnir thought. Many people Wolnir had met expected him to be jealous, or even willing to kill the hero for his glory and position. After all, he was the great general, and Wolnir was only the 2nd best general. But Wolnir was relieved that someone else had came along. As a child, he was praised by everyone he met, due to being a prodigy with a spear. He hated the attention from everyone: his parents, the servants, the other children of nobles. Everyone expected great things from him, yet it felt like he could not deliver. Sure he was great with a spear, but he didn't work well with other people, nor was he good at strategy.
Then the hero came along. Unlike the other people, the hero didn't look at him with adoration, or envy, or any emotion related to Wolnir being a prodigious, noble general with a spear. He looked at Wolnir like he was just another person, and Wolnir liked that. As they sparred and fought alongside each other, Wolnir realized he was better than the hero in every way. The hero even seemed to be worse at communication and strategy than he was.
However, Wolnir was just being arrogant. The hero had natural talent, but it just hadn't blossomed yet. His strange personality somehow attracted many good people who were loyal to him. He wasn't good at traditional strategy, but his instinct when commanding his troops was second to none. Even if he didn't have that instinct, it didn't matter, since his soldiers fought harder than anyone else in the kingdom.
In fact, the hero didn't even have a magic sword when he started out as a soldier. He somehow found his first magic sword in a cave near his village. Obviously, he would have that, and many swords to come, but they didn't make his special, or change his fate. Even if he didn't have his sword, the hero would still be a good commander. He might not have been a general, but his diligence and attention to detail could not be overlooked. Even when he had his regular sword, he would take great care of it, polishing it every day.
After the hero found this sword, the winds of fate seemed to push him forward. He quickly rose through the ranks, and caught up to Wolnir, who had pushed far past him after their first campaign. Now, Wolnir was a little scared, and jealous of the Hero. After all, there was talk among the people that the Hero was better than Wolnir, talk that bruised Wolnir's ego. However, when Wolnir met the Hero during a strategy meeting, he realized that Wolnir was still the same, awkward person. Not many can defy death, and rise to the ranks to become a commander, let alone a general without becoming arrogant or developing hubris. However, the Hero had done exactly that. After meeting him, Wolnir realized how arrogant he had become. He trained harder, even focusing on his weakpoint of strategy. He had become the best general he could be.
And yet, the hero sailed past him. While they both became generals, the hero was crowned the great general, meaning Wolnir was under him in the chain of command. The hero lead every campaign successfully. Many children dreamed of him, and many women chased after him. However, the hero was still that awkward, eccentric boy that he was when he was just starting out as a soldier. And Wolnir could follow that person, even if it was the first time in his life that he followed someone.
At Wolnir's home, there was the occasional remark about how the hero was better, or how Wolnir just fell short. Wolnir didn't mind. As a general, the pressure that others put on him ever since his childhood seemed to have dissipate. Wolnir attributed this to the hero. Ever since the hero became the general, he had the spotlight, not Wolnir. Wolnir loved that, since he could surround himself with people who liked him for him, not for his potential.
As he finished his training session, Wolnir thought back through all the times they sparred, and realized that the hero never beat him, even after getting a magic sword. A lesser man would have been jealous of the Hero's position, thinking that the Hero was lucky and he was the better man. However, Wolnir recognized how much the Hero had done for him, and would serve him, no matter what, for that reason. | "Its your seventy-eight loss in a row, with that we are tied."
"You know you wouldnt stand a chance without that stupid sword dont you?"
"Haha, dont be like that Sammy, the sword chose me because of who i am, just like the legends say, its part of my skill."
BullS#@% Samuel thought, the reason i defeated you seventy-eight times when we were kids wasnt because of some stupid enchanced weapon or even talent for that matter, it was because every time you were daydreaming of being a hero i was training, for every fairy tale story you read i was reading strategy books, and for every boisterous story you told on a tavern i risked my life subjugating another monster, sure you have charisma going for you, thats the reason we decided to make you leader of the party after all, but it was my achievements that drew the attention of the king to our party, and the only reason he gave you this stupid weapon istead of me is because you fucked his daughter, and also because the only magical legendary weapon of the kingdom just so happens to be a sword.
"Twenty-three."
"Huh?"
"Twenty-three times during this exchange i had the chance to strike you down, ten times i missed, five times sand got into my eyes, four times i tripped on rocks i'm sure werent there before, three times a bird suddenly appeared and attacked me and one time my spear simply bent to avoid hitting you."
"Come on Sammy i am much better than before, like i told you, because of the powers of my sword its easy to think any mistake you made was because of its divine protection."
"Including the bird that appeared out of nowhere and attacked me?"
"Hey, thats what you get for not watching your surroundings."
"Arthur, i am pretty convinced you got worse than when you received the dragon's sword, your stance was sloppy, you constalty and repeatedly go for easy to dodge big attacks and i'm definitely sure YOU dont watch your surroundings, but i dont think you listen to any of the tips i try to give you anymore."
"And should i?, that was the last victory you had over me, from now on maybe you should start learning from me."
"You must be kidding."
"You wanna know what your problem is sammy?, you are too methodical, you gotta stop thinking so much about everything, go with the flow a bit more, just feel things out, maybe that way the spear the king gave to you might start working for you."
Samuel looked at his spear, the mere fact it survived so many encounters with a legendary weapon was a testimony to its might, the metal was impossibly light and durable at the same time, and the silver adornments with a wolf theme were just as pretty, if not prettier than the gold dragon sword's, but for all its qualities it possesed a crippling fault: not being the sligthest bit magical.
"Why dont we try exchanging weapons again so you can show me how well feeling things out works for you."
"That time didnt count, it wasnt fair, i'm the sword guy and you are the spear guy, obviously we wouldnt be as good with a weapon we never used before."
"You know, i only wielded a sword a couple times in my life, but i bet i could beat you with one, given both our weapons are normal."
"Humpf, maybe you will stop making excuses tomorrow when i finally surpass you."
And with those words the famous hero of our nation once again leaves to party and have fun on taverns, while my training has only just begun.
\----------------------------------------------------
This my first story, if i'm doing anything stupid let me know, also any feedback would be wellcome. | 2021-02-28T16:59:58 | 2021-02-28T15:36:09 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] When you die, you get one wish - a death wish. Usually people wish for noble things like wealth and happiness for loved ones, or to be remembered fondly. But your wish has Death scratching his skull. | THIS IS NOT JUST A JOB YOU UNDERSTAND.
"I know, but I mean, it's been a rough year, you must have been working overtime."
TIME IS SOMETHING I HAVE IN ABUNDANCE.
"Yeah, sure, but everyone deserves a day off."
It was a puzzling concept. Day off? Humans did it all the time of course, but as the blue glow from deep in his hollow skull attested, Death was not human.
WHAT... WHAT WOULD I DO?
"I don't know man, anything you want. Not work, you know?"
NOT. WORK. NOT... WORK...
Death rolled the words around as if trying to get a taste for them.
"Yeah, that's right. Maybe you could, I don't know, go fishing or something?"
FISH... ...ING.
"Yeah, yeah, fishing. Sit in the sun, drink a beer or two, dangle a rod in the river..."
CATCH FISH?
"Well... I mean, I suppose, but you'd have to throw them back, or I think that might count as work, you know?"
Death tried to look quizzical, which was a feat when one has no moving features.
WOULD THAT NOT DEFEAT THE POINT OF THE VENTURE?
"Na man, na... lots of people go fishing without actually catching fish. It's about being outdoors, relaxing - maybe spending some time with your buddies - not the actual _fish_ per-se."
BUDDIES?
"Yeah, your friends, you know?"
Death smiled... the one expression his face was well suited for.
YOU KNOW, I THINK I DO KNOW SOMEONE WHO WOULD BE INTERESTED...
---
"so what is it that we're actually doing?"
FISHING.
"You know that there are no fish _in_ this pond, right?"
MY DEAR FAMINE - THAT IS EXACTLY WHY I BROUGHT YOU. IT SEEMED HIGHLY APPROPRIATE. | ”I don't believe I have ever heard that one before.” Death spoke as he cocked his head, face hidden by the cloak.
”Really? Honestly, I’m surprised. It’s been a massive thing this year... so why not?” I say, chuckling softly as I look to the very personification of the end.
“So... you want me to make it that no politician can lie the moment they take office to the moment they leave office. They have to say the whole, unfiltered truth.” Death says as he stands up. “And, if I can’t do this?”
“Oh, I’m sure you can. Plus, it will make your next few years interesting and earth will be a lot more... can we say... upfront with everything.” | 2020-08-09T14:30:56 | 2020-08-09T13:34:48 | 273 | 119 |
[WP] How could humans be dangerous? This one's been crying in the corner since we captured it. | "How could humans be dangerous? This one's been crying in the corner since we captured it."
It was a fragment of a message picked up some ways out from a small blue planet orbiting a small yellow star - apparently inhabited by something called humans. Was it a race of beings? A breakfast drink? A vehicle? No one knew what a humans was.
So a probe was dispatched to recover a human or a humans; whatever the case was.
No one was expecting the probe to return so quickly.
Alarms sounded. A collision warning? What was happening?
Fd'thk ran towards the bridge - it was silent. Everyone simply stared out of the window at what he hoped was simply a planet that hadn't been noticed. He knew it wasn't.
"It materialized, sir ... we received no warning! There are four more behind it in close formation. We're being hailed." His first officer's voice fracked. Each ship was a high million times larger than the scout ship they were using.
A figure appeared on the scream. He was dark and had what appeared to be white hair over the upper and lower part of his face. "Unknown alien vessel. We have tracked a small automated ship to your location. This ship was involved in the abduction of one of our citizens. Please release and return this human to us." The being stopped and the broadcast ended...direct, but not threatening.
"Do we have a human on board?" The captain asked.
"Yes, I'm losing looking into it now. I think we should comply. The human is approximately 8 times larger we are and appears to have ripped open the drone unassisted."
"Get it out of here!"
"It gets worse. Those planetoids are their ships and each one generates more power than our entire civilization."
"What part of 'Get it out of here!' was unclear!?"
[i want to flesh this out more but I am Le Tired. I'll come back to it soon.] | When the corporal went through the barracks sick room for morning muster, Paul was gone. But even if he finally bugged up, it was dangerous to let him wander the base. Or worse, leave it. He told the sergeant, who told the lieutenant, who told the captain. By 0700, the whole company had formed a search party.
By 0830, they found Paul's dog tags, and the tracks. But it wasn't any tank or truck they were familiar with. The captain got on the horn to the major. And the major got the colonel.
By noon, the whole Fourth Battalion had the aliens' base camp surrounded. Over one brother in arms. Who had already been through too much. | 2018-02-17T16:41:42 | 2018-02-17T16:37:28 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] After graduating with honors your grandmother Baba Yaga brought you a home. It’s the offspring of her house. It’s a tiny little hut right now but she explains it will get bigger as it gets older. However the hut is a little clingy, follows you everywhere since it’s afraid it will be abandoned. | I held the phone to my ear as it rang once, twice.
The rise of cell phones had been a real boon to Baba. The time she tried to have a landline put in, it was such a disaster that it became a family legend. All through the install, she kept asking the guy questions about *How does wire go with house? Is it on…spool?*
I think he just assumed there was a language barrier, or that she was senile, but the minute the house stood up and started walking, its legs got tangled in the wires and it tripped. Baba and the house were both fine, but she had to replace half her glassware and a window. The phone company, meanwhile, had to replace its service man, who hasn’t been heard from since.
After the second ring, a brief pause and then Baba’s creaking voice:
*Freddy!* She cried. *How are you, Froikeleh?*
“I’m doing great, Baba!” I said. “Thank you again for the house!”
The thing sat in front of me on the kitchen table, a smidge bigger than a dollhouse. It was a Tudor-style, two floors with a brick chimney and some ugly vinyl siding, which Baba had said would molt off once it grew up. Its legs were folded up under it, roosting.
The first time I had drawn my head level with the tiny windows and peered in, I’d expected to see furniture inside, but Baba just laughed when I expressed surprise at the bare floors and rooms.
*What, Freddy*, she had said, *you want running refrigerator too?*
It’s always hard to tell if Baba knows when she’s just said something funny. *But I checked,* she went on enthusiastically. *It has garbage disposal!*
I had to take her word on that for the time, since there was absolutely zero chance of flipping the tiny switch under the kitchen sink.
“It’s such a generous gift,” I continued into the phone, maybe a little too effusively, “especially with rent the way it is these days.”
*Of course, darling*, came her reply, *I’m just so proud of you, and I know you’ll have the patience to raise it right.* I sensed the subtle dig at my cousin Yamcha, whose house was always in disrepair.
“So, about that”, I said hurriedly, “I’m worried I’m feeding it wrong? I put the peanut butter on the floor inside like you said, but then it just kind of sat down and froze up. The front door’s open and the deadbolt is shot. It feels like it’s stuck, so I can’t close it.”
There was a contemplative *Hmm* from her end of the line, then *Fred, do not worry, it is smart home. It will be fine*.
I shrugged and flapped the door once absentmindedly with a finger.
*Oop,* Baba said. *Shchi is boiling!*
I heard several loud bangs in the background. Gunshots?
“I’ll call you later, Baba” I said. “It sounds like you’re busy.”
*Okay. Wait, Froike, do you still have the rats?*
“Yeah.” I sighed dejectedly. I was in the third week of an infestation, and beginning to suspect I'd already killed all the ones gullible enough to go for the traps. Worse, it was starting to strain my relationship: Emily had refused to come over since the time she spotted one, and—since she had moved back in with her folks after graduation—staying over at her place wasn’t really an option.
*Get rid of traps*, Baba said, and then hung up abruptly amidst another flurry of bangs.
With horror, I realized that the fledgling house had been stumbling blindly around the apartment for a week—although I don’t know if “blindly” is the right word, since the shades on the front windows were open anytime it walked around.
Still, I hurried around the apartment, carefully un-setting the traps and wondering what the hell I’d have done if the thing had stepped in one of them and gotten a foot broken. Take it to a veterinary hospital? I cringed, imagining the looks I’d have gotten sitting in the waiting room, cradling what appeared to be a whimpering dollhouse with chicken legs. Silently, I thanked the winds for Baba’s thoughtfulness.
I set the house down on the floor in the corner, so it wouldn’t be stuck on the high table if it wanted to get up and stretch its legs, but it seemed to be perfectly content to just sit there, door ajar, legs retracted. Was it sick? I sighed again and shook my head, as if trying to shake off the worry. *Baba said it would be fine,* I told myself.
**1/2** | I walked along the forested trail. The beauty of the autumn leaves and flowers was dazzling. It would be at least a few weeks before snow covered it all. I glanced at my travelling companion.
After graduating collage in the spring, I got a gift from my weird grandmother. She gave me a small house with chicken legs. Just like hers, except mine was smaller than a cell phone.
It was like that at first, when I mostly kept the house cozy in my pocket, but it grew fast. By the time fall rolled around, it was the size of a birdhouse, minus the legs of course.
It was too big to fit in my pocket now. The house seemed to always want to stay within six feet of me, or if not possible, then watch as close as it could.
The house was surprisingly versatile, being able to both swim and float, often enjoying paddling around. It could climb trees, which surprised a lot of people, using its strong legs to jump and it’s talons to scramble up. The house also was beginning to run faster. Right now it was faster than any person I knew.
“You want to head back home, Zoom?” I asked, for that was what I named the house. Or rather, my brother named it and now it wouldn’t respond to anything else. I wasn’t sure why, but it seemed to like its name. Zoom was short for Zoomer. I also wasn’t sure about the house’s gender, so I referred to it as they and them.
As we walked back into town, we turned many heads in our journey. This was the reason we preferred the woods, less people.
My family were the only people Zoomer was comfortable around, otherwise he got anxious and wanted to be either very close to me or carried. As people passed us, they often did double takes. I’ve had people ask about them. One idiot even asked what kind of dog mine was. As we passed a young woman with two large dogs, Zoomer leapt up and scrambled onto my shoulders fearfully. The dogs seemed interested in the chicken smell. Zoom crawled onto my head and crouched like a roosting chicken until the dogs passed.
The next time we saw someone with an animal it was a guy casually walking his cat. The cat turned and attacked his leg if he dared to pull on the leash.
The cat, who was brown and white in colour, smelled the house and trotted up to him, with her human racing after her. The cat smelled the small house carefully and then repeatedly rubbed against them.
“Sorry!” The man apologized. “That’s just Cricket.”
“Its alright.” I assured him calmly. I was never a people person, so this interaction was making me nervous.
“I like your little house.” He commented with a grin. In response, Zoomer ran up and kicked him. It didn’t hurt at all, I knew because they had kicked me before. Before I could apologize, the man laughed.
“Feisty little thing.” He snickered, while Zoomer jumped into my arms to be carried. The cat moved on, causing her person to follow.
“Come on Zoomer, let’s go home.” I murmured. I carried my baby house home. Tomorrow was Monday, where Zoom would either crash at my brother’s or trail me during my forestry job. I decided to give Zoomer a bath, because he was covered in cat fur and smelled like cat. The moment I carried him over to the tub, he shot out of my arms like a baby cheetah. I sighed in amusement and began to chase him. I enjoyed living with a sentient house, even with all its ups and downs. | 2022-09-15T07:29:30 | 2022-09-15T06:06:38 | 35 | 20 |
[WP] Super powers are common, but super heroes are rare. It turns out most people don't actually want to face death or dismemberment on a daily basis, including you. You enjoy the 9-5 and having a 401k, but my god that government recruiter won't take no for an answer. | The man sat down at the table. He turned the lamp toward my face. I smirked, retracting my eyes into my flesh. At the same times, i elongated my fingers, each one reaching five inches in length as I turned each nail into a new eye.
The man flinched. He knew of my powers, he saw me using them a few times, but never this close. I decided to turn it up a notch, peeling off layers from my face to reveal a seemingly infinite numbers of teeth.
"Can you cut this shit off?"
He was trying to be calm, but i could feel the fear and revulsion from his voice.
"Not until you decide to drop this hero nonsense."
"Nonsense? You have the strongest and most versatile power ever recorded on the planet!"
"No I haven't"
He looked at me like I had declared myslef to be an alien.
"You can shapeshift into anything! I saw you turning into mist once!"
"It was a colony of Fairyflies."
"You can clone youself!"
"I did it once and I only got Dissociative Identity Disorder from the experience."
"You can fly at supersonic speed!"
"Only up to Mach 4"
"You can resurrect the dead!"
"The brain was still active, i just regrew the body after the decapitation"
"You can punch through a 20ft thick titanium plate!"
"I need some prep time to do that."
"Your prep time for that test was 1.7 seconds! That's not prep time!"
"Details. It just wouldn't be fulfilling."
"Oh sure. Be a superhero won't be fulfilling, but being a fucking test dummy for surgeons is SOOO fulfilling"
From my torso i manifested a blade, slicing at the agent. He touched his chin, now completely shaven, at looked at his beard as it fell on the table.
"Don't you dare talk shit about my student."
The man took a deep breath.
"You let inexperienced 20-somethings cut you up for hours on end. Sure, they get SOME experience, but you could do so much more out there. You could make a real difference"
I returned myself to my normal form.
"These 20-somethings will be the future of this nation. Doctors and surgeons that studied anatomy on the real deal, tested procedures in ways older generations couldn't even dream of. I AM making a difference."
I stood up, my hands sliding off the manacles with ease.
"Where are you going?"
I looked at the agent "Home. Got some homework to grade."
He looked at me, confused "... You know you're still charged with driving 170mph in a school zone, right?"
I waited in silence
"Buuuut, if you were to do a small job for the government..." | *Bzzzzzzz bzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzz.*
David opened his eyes. He could feel the sleep dust still trying to keep them shut. He glanced over to his bedside clock. 4:00 AM, it read.
*This better be important*, he thought to himself.
He reached his hand under his pillow for his phone. He could feel it vibrating. He sluggishly brought his thumb to press the power button on the side. The screen lit up with what appeared to be the power of the sun.
The phone number on the screen gave away who was calling.
*Goddamnit. Not this irritating little shit again.*
He picked up the phone and lifted it to his ear. "Listen here, Mr Friedricht. This is the last straw. It is four o'clock in the fucking morning, and I will NOT tolerate any more of your recruitment calls. Do not call this number again." He put the phone down on his bedside tray and rested his head back on his pillow. After about 30 seconds, the phone started buzzing again.
"I just told you to stop callin-"
"Oh, I am terribly sorry Mr Petrovich, I truly am, but it is my *job* to do this. I must inform you of a new open position. It pays more than your current banking position and-"
"I don't want to hear it. I am not interested in military work, and I am perfectly happy where I am right now."
(unfinished) | 2022-07-31T14:20:34 | 2022-07-31T13:19:23 | 145 | 31 |
[WP] Two entirely separate and unaffiliated groups of terrorists are planning to hijack the same plane. | *Open the emergency door*, I recited to myself as I handed the smiling flight attendant my ticket. *Disable the flight attendant who responds first.* I returned her smile with a practiced grin of my own. Maybe it would be her. *Rush the cockpit before they know what's happening and lock the door*. She put the slip of paper into the little scanner.
There was a pause, and nothing happened. It should have beeped. I clutched the grip of my weapon under my jacket, ready to use it if necessary. It was a carbon-fiber gun of my own design, built to avoid detection by TSA screenings. She slid the ticket under the light again, and this time it beeped. She handed it back to me and said "have a nice flight!" She didn't even know that she'd be dead in the next few hours.
I was sitting in the front row of first class. Worth the extra 200 dollars to ensure that I was as close to the cockpit door as possible. I buckled my seatbelt and looked around at my fellow passengers. Fat old men in suits typing away on their smart phones. Bored women with fake blonde hair and designer sunglasses. Spoiled rich children who had never known the discomfort of flying in the economy section. Sickening. They were just a microcosm of the wealthy oligarchs who had hijacked this country for their own avaricious purposes. I would not be sorry to see them taken down with me as I accelerated into Bank of America's skyscraper. Some of the passengers now shuffling into coach certainly didn't deserve this fate, but they were a necessary casualty. The stewardess handed me a hot towel, and I tried to relax, repeating the plan over and over again in my mind like a calming mantra.
Cruising altitude: 30,000 feet. The seatbelt light dinged softly, and I was now free to move about the cabin. My heart was racing. This was it. I needed to do it before beverage service began, otherwise that big cart would be in my way. I stood up and prepared to make my way to the bathroom near the back of the plane. I'd pull that big red handle on my way back up. 3 minutes and counting.
Halfway to the back of the plane, a man stood up. Fairly short, with tan dark skin and a sparse black mustache that looked like it belonged on a pubescent teen. *Stay calm*, I told myself. *He'll be sitting by the time you get back. He won't be...*
Something flashed in his hand. A knife, slowly sliding out of his sleeve. The milky white ceramic blade that I'd considered using before designing my carbon-fiber gun. His eyes widened as he saw me coming toward him down the aisle.
"EVERYONE SIT DOWN," another man shouted from the back of the plane. He too held a knife, waving it about. Passengers screamed as three more men stood from their seats and pulled out their own weapons. The one closest to me advanced down the aisle, shoving the blade into the faces of passengers. The others restrained the flight attendants before they could alert the cockpit.
"We're taking a little detour! To *Havana*!" He pronounced the name of the city with a clear Spanish accent.
*You've got to be fucking kidding me*, I thought to myself. *This was **MY** plane*.
I didn't even think twice. I pulled the gun from my jacket pocket and shot him twice in the chest. He dropped the knife to the floor and stared at me. Must have been quite a surprise, thinking that all of the passengers were unarmed. Two more hijackers went down as they tried to rush at me with their blades. The last two dropped their weapons and knelt to the floor as the pilots began to dive back to the airport for an emergency landing. I'd lost the element of surprise. The game was up.
There were cameras and emergency crews waiting when we reached the terminal. "This man's the hero!" one of my fellow passengers shouted to them and pointed at me. Cameras flashed and clicked as they all tried to get a shot of me while the TSA covered my face with a jacket and rushed me off to some back room. They threatened to charge me, of course. I'd illegally brought a weapon onto an airplane. But who would convict a man who'd single-handedly stopped a hijacking? As far as they knew, my only crime so far was being a fervent supporter of the Second Amendment! Let's see you bring *that* to a jury in Texas.
I was released. I returned to my own apartment, double checking to make sure that I'd gotten rid of all evidence of my plans. I was safe, for the time being. But the day had still been a failure. I went back to the drawing board, wondering how I might use my new-found fame to bring down the system. | "Land ho!", cried the chief airline stewardess from the airplane's crow's nest. Passengers heaved a collective sigh of relief as the long trans-Pacific flight neared its end. The coastal skyscrapers of Japan twinkled on the edge of the horizon, and tallest of all of them, the great Tokyo Stock Exchange and Sushi Kitchen.
Suddenly there was a scuffle in economy. "Buddha ackbar!" shouted a guy in a monk's robes. All at once there were half a dozen of them, swinging wooden nunchucks all over the place, clubbing passengers without discretion.
"What the hell?" said Tanaka, an immaculately dressed Yakuza in first-class. "Are they with you?"
"They're not with me," said Suzuki, craning his neck to try and see back into the cabin. "It sounds like Osakataisekijo. What the hell are they doing here?"
"Hey! Break it up!" Tanaka and Suzuki stepped into economy, using their superior yakuza martial arts skill to get the cultists under control.
"Emperor banzai!" said one of the cultists, squirming against Suzuki's hold.
"You guys are doing it all wrong," said Tanaka. "You aren't gonna get any followers beating people up like this. Besides, Sakura Yakuza has dibs on this plane."
"See, look at this," Suzuki had released the cultist, he produced a pocky stick from his tuxedo and handed it to a trembling Japanese schoolgirl. She gave him a very kawaii smile and nibbled on the candy.
"Gosh," said the leader of the cultists. "You're right. Senseless violence isn't the way to do this, is it. We are so embarrassed," and the cultists began making polite little bows to the two yakuza members.
"What's you guys' target, anyway?" said Tanaka, handing out scraps of Sudoku to pacify frightened passengers.
"The park right in front of Tokyo Stock Exchange and Sushi Kitchen," said one of the cultists.
"Wait," said Suzuki, "why the park? We were planning on hitting the building itself."
"Oh, no," said the cultist. "You can't do that now! It's trading hours, that building's full of innocent people!" And another cultist added: "It would be an offense to the great Buddha!"
Tanaka scratched his chin. "You might have a point," he admitted. "Not that we believe in Buddha. But hitting the exchange right now during trading hours might provoke the Americans." Both groups of terrorists shuddered at the thought of those rude, angry GIs.
"Hello, captain please," Suzuki said into the comm at the stewardess's station, adopting the proper polite Japanese keigo. "Good afternoon honorable sir, pleasure flying with you. In light of recent realizations, this humble yakuza member would like to ask you to consider dismissing the threats which we did formally issue, along with our lowly apologies for taking up so much of your time, sir." By the time the long drawn-out speech was finished, the airplane was touching down safely on the runway.
"There, there," Tanaka patted one of the cultists on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad. I think both of our groups learned some lessons today. How about we declare a truce." Then, from Suzuki: "Would you like to join us for some Dance Dance Revolution?" | 2015-04-30T07:58:44 | 2015-04-30T07:40:38 | 329 | 94 |
[WP] Officially, you're a weak, D rank villain. Unofficially, you're one of the strongest beings on the planet that is secretly employed to "train" fledgling heroes by giving them an easy first real fight. But one day an A rank villain crashes your heist and you must protect your "students". | "EMP! FREEZE!" Shouted young Pyroclast. It was slightly ironic but I'll forgive it.
I raised my hands and turned, clearly at their mercy. Pyroclast, Phaser, and Wraith. Pretty cool names, in my opinion. Cool powers too. Temperature control, molecular manipulation, and electromagnetic refraction. Plus they weren't dickheads. Good kids.
"Very well, you've captured me!" I vamped pretty well, it helps I'm a baritone. I turned to them slowly.
According to the supposedly accurate Dangerous Power Index, I'm at best a C-. Shorting out electronic devices is pretty bad but definitely not "melting people alive" bad.
Granted, I never have had a reason to demonstrate the exact scope of my ability to well, anyone. Commander Death and The Steel Legionnaire both knew what I really was, but they're far more interested in keeping the balance than dealing with my absolutely unambitious ass. Terrible poker players, the both of them. Death is shockingly polite for the most powerful villain in existence.
We have an informal agreement that I serve as a gateway for new heroes and villains. Everyone has a barely successful heist with me, or a faintly victorious fight against me.
I saw Wraith approaching me, when sudden the bank entrance evaporated. Just bloop, gone.
Floating in the gap was The Obliterated.
Frankly, he's kinda terrifying. Psychotic fucker with the ability to produce sonic blasts WELL IN EXCESS of healthy limits. He didn't even start a monologue, he just tossed a wave of air compressed to the approximate density of enriched uranium at these poor fucking kids. It was definitely going at least 5000 feet per second.
I quietly and pseudo-instantly turned about fifty feet of air into fifty feet of air colored neutronium for like a yoctosecond.
Everyone saw a hand flick out, felt a kind of vibration, then stared confused at each other.
I'm really not the sort of guy to upset the balance. I'm a big fucking fan of the game. It's safe uh, ish. Predictable. Choreographed.
The Obliterated was not dumb. His gaze immediately fixed on me with a very reasonable amount of suspicious concern.
The heroes were murmuring to each other, pretty concerned. I quietly brought one hand down and pointed to a shattered piece of tile.
I then altered the electromagnetic disposition of the piece of tile in such a manner that it simply vanished. I held a single finger to my lips while making an uncomfortable amount of eye contact with The Obliterated.
He pretended to fight the heroes for like, two minutes. They honestly did really good. They'd have instantly died, but they did really good. I got arrested, The Obliterated got arrested, and The Steel Legionnaire even showed up to honor the heroes.
Well, I guess there are three people now, but I wasn't going to let him annihilate them.
Pretty sure that Phaser is going to replace The Steel Legionnaire one day, because she's got the gumption. Maybe Obliterated and I will catch a beer sometime and hash out the rules a little better for the higher tier villains.
Maybe not. Maybe I'll finally have to evaporate an asshole and everyone will realize that the electromagnetic spectrum is literally everything. I can turn your punk ass into gamma rays and uh, "yeet" you into a pulsar. Is that how kids say it? I "yeet" you? Whatever. For now...
For now, I'm playing cops and robbers. | 'Heroes bah, what a joke, just a feel-good title for super-powered busy body Karen types. Always sticking their noses where it didn't belong.'
Usually it wasn't that bad, his well crafted persona only had the baby faced rookies coming after him. It was customary to only send equal level heroes after villians. If one wasn't enough they just send more. It was how things were done. He was a D ranked villian ridiculed in the media under the name Senseless.
'Senseless again attempts to commit petty crime, this time in a retirement home. His hairbrained scheme to pilfer valuables from the defenseless elderly was foiled earlier today by the up and coming hero Bold Knight. The 18 year old D rank hero is expected to be promoted following his success, unfortunately Senseless remains at large.'
Such were the headlines involving him. Luckily they didn't connect the dots to his real reason for being there. The ranks of Heroes were filled with antsy oppressors promoted off battling with him. He didn't mind being the brunt of every joke, the scorn undisguised in the media and press releases. There was balance, he maintained his power and crimes at D rank so only D ranks came against him. Heroes were trained and kept the world safe.
He was currently hold up in a bank with an impressive army of cops out front and the new crop of D rank heroes had just arrived. He rolled his shoulders and popped his neck ready for a good fight. One on four should liven things up a bit.
A moment later the rosey-checked heroes entered through the doors he had carelessly forgotten to lock or barricade in anyway. He hadn't met or seen any of them before so there team dynamic and powers were completely unknown but that would make it more fun.
Suddenly the handsome jock type with a cru cut and black body armor and golden boxing gloves spoke. "Surrender Senseless, its over there's no escape this time."
Time to banter, see if they were up to snuff. "My machinations are beyond your puny comprehension, my powers and intellect that of a God, you four might as well be in diapers when compared to me."
The Amazonian of a woman in a body suit with spear laughed like a howitzer. "You're so incompetent you haven't ever successfully completed a crime."
He smiled mischievously. "But I'm slippery." ---- to be continued. | 2021-06-23T15:33:15 | 2021-06-23T14:58:27 | 73 | 46 |
[WP] You've been living in your home for ten years. For some reason, every month, an envelope with half your rent appears on the table. You never questioned it. One day, you see a familiar man walking out of the vacant guest room. You remember he said, a decade ago, "you won't even notice I'm here." | "Hey!" I shouted down the corridor, as the cowering figure tried hurriedly to gather himself together and sneak out the door.
"Oh... Hi Will" he said to me. "So sorry, I'll just be on my way, didn't mean to disturb".
It was 4.30am, and I was definetely not an early bird, and feeling rather irritable. So waking up to find a stranger in my house did not put me in the best of moods.
"Who the hell are you? And how do you know my name?" I said at the frightened figure, who at least didn't seem to mean any harm. In fact he looked decisively more scared off me than vice versa.
"Ha! Good one Will" he said with a frightened laugh. "It's me... your flat mate, John".
My flat mate? I thought to myself. But I lived alone! Always had done. "I don't have a flat mate" I said sternly.
"I try and keep myself to myself," John said, now backed up into the corner like a frightened mouse. "I leave for work very early, and only come back very late. Usually I just slip out the window as not to disturb... but today I wanted to treat myself to some breakfast from the kitchen".
I just stared at him incredulously. In the darkened corridor I imagined he could still sense my cynically raised eyebrough. "I live alone. Always have. I don't know if your lost or something mate but you have to leave-"
"Please Will! Don't kick me out. I have no where else to go. I don't have any other friends, and my parents passed away a few years ago," he sounded panicked and confused. "I pay my rent every month! Don't you get my envelopes on the table?"
My jaw dropped. Shit. That was him? I'd assumed it was my dad, helping me out. Our family was quite well off, and sometimes he'd try to sneak money to me, as he knew I wouldn't directly take hand outs. But this guy honestly expected me to believe he'd been my lodger for almost 10 years without me noticing...
"I'm sorry, I try to keep out of your way most of the time", he tried to explain. "We've had some good times though... remember when that crow got in the flat and you couldn't get him out".
I remembered. I ran to get a broom to push it out, but when I came back, the bird was gone, and all the windows were inexplicably open.
"And remember the fire??" He said.
This was when the fire alarm went off. I was drunk, and ended up ignoring it and going back to sleep. Later I'd seen evidence of a small fire near the plugs in the living room. But it had inexplicably gone out. Which was lucky as the whole house could have gone up in flames.
"Or what about when you and your friends had that big party. I tried to come out and mingle. I'm not usually very good with people, but I managed to speak to your friends Sam and Phil, oh and Jessica. It was really nice. But then I had to get back to bed for work".
He knew my friends. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Come to think off it, I was looking for lodgers about 10 years ago. One chap said he was interested. A very shy, and nervous guy, who said he would be as quiet as a mouse and never late on rent. I said yes, but then didn't hear from him again. This couldn't be....
"Anyway, I'll be on my way if that's okay. If you still want me to go, I can pack my things when I get back from work. I really don't have much. Just a small suitcase and some books really". John said. "Today was my birthday is all. And since I will be working all day, I wanted to get a proper breakfast. As a little treat for myself."
"Oh my God, john" I said. "I'm so sorry mate. Of course you can stay."
He looked up gratefully.
"What time do you get off work?" I asked.
"They might let me go a bit early today. Maybe 9 or 10". He replied.
"Okay. Happy birthday John. Have a good day at work."
"Thank you" he said smiling, as if he hadn't had any proper human contact in years.
After he left I picked my phone up, and messaged my mates Sam, Phil and Jessica. "Hey guys, reckon you could come round tonight? And pick up some birthday cake en route. I want to plan a little suprise for someone" I messaged. He was obviously a very shy guy, but everyone could use a bit of company on their birthday. | I woke up scared. My heart was beating a million miles an hour. The clock glowed softly 1:30AM. Looking around the room I noticed two red eyes staring at me from my desk.
My heart froze.
"Mew," My cat said softly. I sighed, all the fear I felt in leaving me. I got up and turned on the lights. I squinted at the sudden change of light. My cat meowed again annoyed. "Sorry, Vix but I got to get up." I told her.
People always portrayed cats as selfish and unforgiving. Not Vix. She got up from my desk, walked over to me and brushed her self against my legs purring. I smiled. Rescued as a kitten she was the only one who kept me company.
My friends came over occasionally but I didn't like being alone. I walked over to my bathroom and turned on the lights. Looking in the mirror I could see my hands shaking. I took deep breaths. "Calm down," I told my self. Vix jumped on the small counter and looked up at me. I petted her.
Then I heard I moan from outside my room. My eyes widened. I walked over to my bedroom door when I remembered. Vincent. My ghost of a roommate.
I went into our living room feeling self-conscious about the burn scar on my hand. I was usually wearing a glove at least to cover it up. I looked around in the darkness but couldn't make out anything.
"Hello?" I asked quietly.
Nothing.
Turning to leave I noticed a weird mass of darkness on the floor. I fliped the light switch. Vincent was curled in a ball on the floor. I gasped. "Stay there I'm calling 911," I told Vincent. He moaned softly.
My phone was on my desk. I grabbed it. Its screen lit up long enough for me to see it one percent left. Then it died. *No no no this is not happening!* I thought to my self. *How could I forget to charge my phone?* I threw the phone back on my desk, and I ran back to Vincent.
"Hey, what happened where does it hurt?" I asked him. He shook his head. "Help me get in my room." He told me. I grabbed him by his arm and held him up. He leaned on me for support, and we walked to his room. I opened his door. Weird symbols covered his walls. The ceiling was dotted with lights vaguely resembling stars.
I felt a mixture of concern and awe. "What are you an astronaut?" I joked. Vincent shook his head.
"Alien."
I chuckled.
He groaned.
He glanced at me his blue eyes glowing. I stared at him confused. *I'm dreaming.*
Vincent shook his head. *I wish you were, cause this hurts.* My mouth fell open. "How did you speak in my head?" I asked quickly. *The bed.* He spoke, thought?
I took him to his bed. Vincent grabbed a syringe filled with green liquid . Gritting his teeth he plunged the syringe into his arm. His eyes glowed hotter blinding me. Then they stopped. Vincent sighed and then laid back on his bed. Then he got back up.
I stared at him.
He nodded like he just thought of something. "Well I would wipe your mind but I wont," He told me. "Thanks," I said feeling anxious. Vix walked in and sat next to my leg.
"I guess I owe you a few answers."
Hope ya'll enjoyed it! If you didn't feedback is appreciated! Thanks. | 2019-05-15T15:12:45 | 2019-05-15T14:57:26 | 368 | 20 |
[WP] A world where "You're a natural" is literal. All people are born with one perfect skill – but they don't know what it is. | Ronald Peters, a wry looking man on 22 years, sighed in anguish as he meticulously worked his way around the inside of a small fuse box. Turning to his partner, Greg, he began the daily ranting that had become so engrained in his routine.
"Of all the talents I could have been born with, Greg! Wiring! Household wiring! I'll never forget the day my shop keeper came up to me; 'Oh Ronald! You're a natural Ronald! You're gonna wire houses for millionaires Ronald!' What and ass! And you know what Greg?"
"You didn't even ace the perfection test. C'mon boss, you tell me this every day. You aren't the only one who isn't happy with their talent. Hell, I'm a musician. Do you know how many perfect musicians there are? We're a dime a dozen. So I work on houses. At least you're good at it."
Ronald sighed and shut the fuse box.
"Good. But not perfect. Now get the ladder for me. I need to get up to the roof."
Greg gave his coworker a solid pat on the back and brought out a long steel ladder. Ronald gave a sight and casually scaled it for five floors. Upon creating the roof, he expertly navigated the peaks and troughs of the building, his feet light and quick along the black shingles. He swung down from a small overhang onto a lower balcony, and flipped a switch on the rear wall. In an instant, the lawn was glistening with a thousand scintillating stars.
Ronald admired his handiwork, and muttered something about the utter tackiness of the homeowners design choice. Calmly, he swung himself over the edge of the balcony, fell into place on a thin windowsill, and redirected his motion to the outer wall, where he caught a small flagpole and kicked himself off into a nearby tree. Descending the tree in a matter of seconds, he dropped into place next to Greg. Who gave him a small, reassuring smile.
"You're talented man, boss. I don't know why you let them tell you what to do." | "Grandma," Nancine groaned carefully. "I don't want to eat your cookies."
"Why not honey?"
"... They look gross."
Grandma Mary was proud of her baking skills. She thought she was quite talented at it. Why didn't Nancine want her cookies?
"Just one dear, they're so delicious!"
Nancine hesitantly took a cookie. Grandma watched anxiously. She took a bite.
"Now was that so hard?!" Grandma guffawed. Nancine gulped.
"Alrighty," Grandma started, "I'm off to get your grandpa now! Be safe!"
Grandma Mary had very poor eyesight as well as very poor hearing. But, despite these handicaps, she was an excellent driver. Sometimes she didn't even *need* to look when she drove, the road would simply speak to her... *The roads are quite bumpy today,* Grandma Mary thought.
| 2015-04-20T09:21:39 | 2015-04-20T09:06:54 | 33 | 21 |
[WP] In 150 years, we start terraforming Mars as the Earth begins to die. It is only then that we realise this has happened before, to Earth. | Still shocked, I looked over the findings once again. How many times had I looked over these pages? 5? 10? I noticed my hands were shaking and forced myself to put down the paper and put my hands on the table. The group of scientists across from the table were looking at me expectedly, waiting for me to say something.
“Are you sure about this?” I said.
They nodded in unison, glancing at one another.
We were all shocked when we found those gigantic jagged formations. We told the public they were just mountains that had been shaped weirdly by the dust storms that plagued Mars, but I ordered an investigation. The findings were right here in my hands, pyramids? Not only that, but pyramids with some strange technology within them?
And these people in front of me, the brightest of humanity, were telling me to pull the switch and activate it once again?
“Why should I activate it?” I said, looking into each of their eyes.
“Sir” eagerly said one of the youngest scientists, “it will save humanity. Pulling the switch will make the terraforming mission occur in decades, not centuries.”
“But why is it here? Why would it do that?” I said angrily. I am no scientist, but I didn’t get to where I am now without some skill. I’m a politician, I know when someone is lying to me, and these scientists were not telling me the whole story. Terraforming Mars had been difficult, Earth was dying, and this mission had been the only thing keeping relative peace between the superpowers of Earth.
The scientists shuffled uncomfortably, apart from the youngest. I knew him, my daughter had talked about him admirably, I was sure she had a crush on him. He was one of the first born and raised on this planet, one of the first true Martians. He was talented, but he shared the same view as many from his generation, all decisions should be based in reason and science, not ethics.
“Those pyramids were built long ago, by a species remarkably similar to us, but more advanced.” He said stoically. “The pyramid acts like a conduit between here and Earth and will transport the magnetic field of Earth to Mars and jumpstart its core.”
“It will leave Earth desolate” another scientist chimed in.
I was scared, I didn’t know if I should cry or shout. I was confused and scared, I knew what they were asking for.
“We suspect that the Pyramids of Mars and the Pyramids of Giza were made by our ancient ancestors and this has happened before.” He continued, staring into my eyes. “I suspect it’s a cyclic occurrence, but I won’t be able to confirm that theory without more investigation.”
I couldn’t process all this information. My mind wandered to Earth, where I had lived for most of my life, my parents still on the planet, my daughter had just begun university in Iceland, she still seemed like a little girl in my eyes. And this Martian was telling me to kill all of it? I was governor of the southern colonies of Mars, as appointed by the UN, I wouldn’t have some kid that had never been outside of a habitation bubble telling me to genocide a whole planet.
“Are you implying that we should damn the rest of humanity for Mars?!” I shouted. “There are billions of people there! We would have to mass evacuate before doing anything like this!”
The scientists began to whisper to one another as I brought up the contact for the UN’s interplanetary communication satellite on my display table. My access was denied. I tried again, access denied. Panic gripped every fibre of my being. I looked up and saw that the young Martian had stood up, the rest of the group had already begun to leave the room.
As the last person left I heard the unmissable sound of the metallic door locking itself.
“You can’t do this!” I pleaded with him, “You can’t do this to a whole planet, I have family there”
The Martian stood quietly, and I thought I saw a glint of remorse or pity as he looked at me.
“I’m sorry sir, but the future won’t be held back.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun. “I am sorry for your daughter.”
I felt something hit my stomach as everything faded to darkness.
I awoke sometime later, still at my desk. I felt faint and my stomach was on fire. Blood covered my body and chair, and I couldn’t feel my legs. I had dreamt that this had happened before, to someone like myself, again and again. I looked around the room and to the television screen on the wall. Satellites showed that Earth was dark for the first time in centuries, the energy grids destroyed by solar storms. The auroras that violently shot around the planet were the only sources of light in the dark.
I began to close my eyes, I began thinking of the sea, and I was glad that my daughter had seen it at least once.
| "Where's the artifact?" the commander bellowed, barging into the primary research lab.
An ensign obediently pointed to the long, phallic object on the table.
The commander sneered. "Is this some sort of joke?" He picked up the artifact, waving it at the field captain's face. "Do you think you're fucking funny or something?"
The field captain shook his head as he watched the artifact flop about inches from his face. "No sir. That's what we found at the dig site. That's the only object that was there. There was clearly remnants of a structure in place, but that was the only tangible object we could find." He shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't know what to think of it either."
The commander slammed the artifact on the table. "Great! Just great! Now I get to tell the suits back on Earth that this big find we supposedly have is a God-damn dildo!"
The chief of research piped in. "If I can interject, this is actually an extraordinary find. It's literally the best proof we could have that an advanced species once lived here."
The commander simply stared at her. "*Literally* the best proof we could have? Not a computer? A radio? A god-damn car? Fucking *anything* but a sex toy?"
The chief of research blushed. "Well, it definitely proves that an advanced species lived here. It will be enough to get more funding and have more excavation teams sent here within the next year..."
*Fast forward 687 Earth days*
"Commander!" a lieutenant calls out, running after her CO. "Commander, the third excavation team has found something!"
"What?" the commander questioned. "Why didn't you radio me?"
"Oh...uh..." the lieutenant shrugged. "It seemed like more dramatic exposition this way."
"*Sigh...* alright, let's hit the rovers."
The command team rolled up to the excavation site in question a couple hours later. Exiting the rover, the commander was immediately swarmed by scientists.
"What? Slow down! I can't understand you if you all talk at once!"
The chief scientist took the lead, beaming with joy. "We've found a fully functioning computer array that's still hooked up to a network!"
"Show me."
The team entered an elevator which took them down several hundred feet below the surface. At the bottom, they exited and followed a series of tunnels that had been dug in the past few months. At the end, they discovered a large, crumbling building that had apparently been buried under thousands of years of dust and debris.
Inside, they gathered around the screens in question. With a nod from the commander, the chief scientist turned on the array. There, a show closely paralleling "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" started playing.
The commander put his head in his hands, almost weeping. "What is this? Why does God keep torturing me like this?"
"I'm sorry, sir, let me switch the channel." He flipped several knobs, eventually finding the station he desired to show the commander. The commander stared in disbelief. There on the screen was an orange man with a bad toupee saying the most insane shit imaginable.
"Is that...is that not..." The commander struggled to remember his history. "Is that not Trump?"
"Yes, which means Mars not only had an advanced civilization at one point, but we are following in its footsteps. They put their planet in a sedated state following the advent of nuclear weaponry, then woke up the population with the most insane reality TV show imaginable, ushering in a revolution that sparked a global unified effort to reach out to the nearest planet that could be terraformed!"
The commander shook his head. "We really need more classes on proper story exposition in the Space Force..." | 2018-08-11T09:33:42 | 2018-08-11T09:08:17 | 562 | 139 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Over the years I've come to interpret the colors I see around people. I once tried to describe it to someone and they told me it,was their "Aura," but every description of an aura has multiple colors. I only see one, and each color is a different kind of death.
There's your common red, something to do with the heart most often, but sometimes could be another organ failing. The slightly less common purple, violent death, mostly seen in bad neighborhoods and around military bases.
Green was disease, which strangely enough encompassed diabetes most of the time, too. Yellow was drug overdose. Orange was accidental. Sometimes you'd get something like a half yellow, half purple. I took that to mean it was a forced drug overdose.
One day, as I'm walking down the street late one night, I saw something I'd never seen before. It was around a petite blonde. Some color I had never seen before. It was impossible to describe. It was unnatural. I had to follow her and find out.
She took a turn down a dark alley. That's not very safe. I should make sure she's okay. What is that color? Is that movement? I should take out my pocket knife just incase.
Holy shit! What is that color. It can't exist. She's unnatural. She shouldn't be. I have to remove that color. It must go. Remove.
Just walk up behind her. Good. Oh, that's hot. And sticky. She's laying on the ground. You know, in this light, she kind of looks like my mother. The color is fading. Thank god.
Hey, what was that at the end of the alley? What was that color? It's unnatural... | For years we had been blissfully happy, Robin and I, 7 years to be exact. since the day I met her she had the same cause of death hanging above her head, Alzheimer’s, as did I. I was content to know that we would both live long lives.
Today Robin’s cause of death changed, six months into her pregnancy it was **our baby** that would kill her.
First attempt at ever writing a story haha... | 2015-03-31T09:00:41 | 2015-03-31T08:46:40 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] You can see the headline now. “World’s Oldest Human, Dead at 124”. You lived a good, long life. You are satisfied. The world around you fades to black... "Whoa! You beat the high score again!” You open your eyes in a brightly lit arcade, the number 124 flashing on a screen in front of you. | Cabradoodle ripped the holo-bio-headset of his head and carelessly threw it to the ground. “Yeah! You see that shit?!” he screamed to what seemed like a mixed crowd. Some people were cheering, some were horrified, confused, startled. The rainbow of emotions splayed across the faces made Cabra a little confused.
“What’s wrong with you people?” he said in less adulatory tone. His friend, Nameface, walked towards Cabra and huddled close enough so the crowd couldn’t hear. “Did you…did you have to drink your own semen?”
Cabra sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I had to.” In the last patch the developers buffed the nutritional value of semen. It gives you all the food you need, allowing you to focus on other tasks.”
Nameface nodded mutely, he had more things to ask but was still trying to come up with a tactful way to say them. Cabra realised that perhaps some of things he did during his play through, were not the most sportsman way to achieve the high-score.
“And…” Nameface continued. “Did you have to have sex with all those animals?” Cabra bit his tongue as he wanted to lash out at this best friend, who instead of being happy for him, was asking questions as if he had murdered his own grandmother.
“Look” Cabra said, in what he hoped was a calm voice, “Everything I did in there, I did for a good, bloody, reason.” He pointed to the dark screen that had the number 124 flashing. “You see that shit! Highest. Score. Ever. So yes, I had to drink my semen and I had to have sex with those animals and before you ask, yes I had eat my own nipple.”
Nameface didn’t see anything, but his sullen expression didn’t quite leave him.
“Oh whatever, lets see you try to do better.” Cabra sauntered away towards the bar with a crowd of mute onlookers watching his movements like he was a wild, unpredictable animal | Boy oh boy I can only kill this seagull so many times. I wish there was a different answer. In all my years of trying to better myself through relationships and self-fulfillment, almost none of it means anything.
Save an orphanage full of children who had a rare type of deficiency that only my blood can cure? Done.
Keep the entire globe from destroying itself with nuclear arms, and only my diplomacy as president could have put it through despite global contradictions? Doesn’t even subtract a drop from the bucket.
But you know what helps?
Is there anywhere you see this going??
There’s one seagull, and one alone, where the fate of the universe rests upon its stupid feathers.
I’ve tried a million ways in even more timelines.
This seagull has to go.
Edit: I’m on mobile, not that it would mean much | 2022-10-20T23:19:56 | 2022-10-20T20:24:14 | 38 | 18 |
[WP] You are a human on a spaceship crewed by aliens. As your hair dye begins to fade, your crewmates start to worry about your health. | "Captian Zenmar, could we discuss something with you?" Asked Xenogon. She walked shyly into the captains room, the seemingly infinite void of space stretching out behind the window.
"Certainly. Whats the problem?" Asked Captian Zenmar. She sat behind the desk, her four scaled arms resting on the desk.
"Its one of the humans. Zachery I believe his name is. His hair has been fading recently. It was bright green when we came on board, it's been getting paler ever since." Said Xenogon.
"That does seem worrying. I'm going to check with the medical staff and see if that's an issue for humans."
"Thats... that's not everything. I think he might be suicidal."
"What!?"
"I saw him cutting parts of his body off earlier. Just small bits, nothing that you could notice too easily." Said Xenogon.
"We need to go see him right away. Come on!" Captian Zenmar rushed out of her office with Xenogon tailing after her. The two of them headed down to Zach's room and banged on the door. Zach rushed to the door and opened it up for them.
"Captian? Whats wrong?" He asked.
"Xenogon told me she saw you cutting off parts of your body earlier. If you're self harming we need to get you help right away."
"Cutting myself? I haven't been- Ohhh. What do you think I was cutting off?" Asked Zachery.
"I saw you cutting off the tips of your fingers." Explained Xenogon.
"Oh, humans have these things called finger nails. We have to trim them off or else they'll hurt us." Explained Zach.
"I see."
"What about your hair? Its color has been fading." Asked Captian Zenmar.
"Oh, its not really that color. Its sort of like paint. Its meant to look nice, It eventually fades away and you're left with your original hair color." Explained Zach.
"I suppose we got panicked over nothing." Said Captain Zenmar.
"Yeah. I'll let you know if there are any real health problems." Said Zachery.
"I'm sorry about this. I just got worried about you." Said Xenogon.
"Don't worry about it. It's nice to know you guys worry about me." Said Zachery. He retreated into his cabin for the night, and the rest of the crew went about their day. | I am an astronaut aboard the intergalactic space station, a space station for all intelligent species in the universe.
I fingered my hair, knowing the crew would notice. They didn’t know that human hair went grey after a while. I knew there’d be questions.
I’d dyed my hair before the mission, knowing it would fade. I’d gone grey in my twenties, early. I was in college and well, you know what they say about stress.
I walked out of my room and almost ran directly into Nirina. She was an Atanician. She had blue and gold scales, green hands, and a small flat nose. Her eyes were red with circular pupils.
“Your hair is going grey, are you feeling okay,” she asked.
“I’m fine, I had coloring in my hair, but I’ve been up here and haven’t gotten it done in a while, so it’s fading.”
“Okay.”
As I walked through the ship, I noticed concerned looks from my colleagues.
The cafeteria workers suggested I eat a plant with a certain vitamin.
My boss asked me if I was under any stress.
My colleagues watched me like I’d drop dead on the spot.
Eventually word seemed to get around and the glances vanished. | 2020-07-05T14:26:31 | 2020-07-05T13:34:30 | 33 | 19 |
[WP] The legendary hero that we summoned to save the realm was not what we expected. He was gruff, not handsome. He direct in his speech, not elegant. He also came with "Navy Seal Training," which we think is some sort of swordplay and a "Medal of Honor," which must be some sort of crown. | “What is this?” The King shouted. “What kind of mockery do you intend to make of my Royal Guard?”
The strange man was obviously disheveled and terrified to find himself in this new world. “As a Navy Seal of the United States Government, I demand you to return me immediately!”
“United States!” The King shouted even louder, his face becoming red.
Gretchen, the town sorcerer, sighed. “He had a 23 charisma rating, and 43 strength...” She looked over her notes. “I guess 23 is really low... huh?” She chuckled slightly and tucked her tiny notebook back into the pocket of her torn dress. “He’s from the Earth realm. From what I know, he’s a highly trained Knight of a kingdom called... United States of America.”
“Give him a sword, and throw him in,” the King ordered. And that’s what was done. The Earth Man was escorted to a large arena, known throughout the town as the Knights Gauntlet. Any Knight to fight for the Royal Guard must want to die for his King. Knights who become candidates every year battle to the death for the position of a royal guard member, thus making sure it is filled with the strongest of soldiers.
The Earth Man was given a sword and some armor, and quickly sent out for his first fight. The city made sure to bring in their last ditch effort around battle time, since this visitor must also meet the same requirements of all of the kingdom’s Knights.
The battle did not go on long, however. It seemed the Earth Man did not know how to wield a sword, nor use his armor to it’s fullest ability. The fight was over in a matter of minutes, and the challenger came out victorious.
A week later, the town sorceress was fired from her post, and left the town, leaving it both without defenses, nor magic. | The man in dusty clothes that appeared looked confused. One of the mages whispered: „don‘t say anything, he is a strong minded creature dumb but strong. I have one try to hypnotize him.“ I wondered why this dirty man that looked like a miner would be our savior. „Hello Soldier.“ the mage said. „To our town came an islamist and he is attacking our freedom.“ The man who first looked very interested stopped looking after the last words. The mage looked a bit annoyed and he added: „also we have oil.“ with those words the man rose to his full size and pushed weird thing in a long metal rod. And then he went to town on those bandits oh boi. | 2020-11-10T16:24:48 | 2020-11-10T11:06:42 | 40 | 30 |
[WP] They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Apparently the opposite is true as well, because you are a villain, or at least you aspire to be one, but all your evil plans always end up saving the world and/or massively benefiting the people and you are hailed as a hero. | Blackburn had never believed in God or gods. As far as he was concerned, he was the supreme deity that held the fate of mortals in his burning hands.
But that was starting to change.
Because something was definitely screwing with him.
Like a vengeful meteor, Blackburn blasted down from the sky and landed in front of his secret base, carved inside a long-dormant volcano. Fire trailed from him in angry wisps as he stalked into the base. His head minion, Pennyson, awaited him inside, wringing his hands.
“Um, sir?” Pennyson said in his weasley voice. “There’s been… an unexpected development. Again.”
Blackburn’s only response was a growl. The two of them entered the magma chamber, where an array of screens displayed various media channels from across the globe. All of them were covering Blackburn’s latest exploit, which pleased him.
But then he saw what the headlines were saying, and his pleasure turned to ash.
He pointed to one screen in particular, restraining the urge to explode in an eruption of flame. “Pennyson. Mute the others and play that one.”
Pennyson rushed off to do his bidding.
“I’m here with Arshad Yeidad, one of the lead scientists at the Institute for Environmental Preservation,” said the reporter on screen. Standing beside her was a portly, middle-aged man with a grin that could light up a black hole. He was positively vibrating with excitement.
“Dr. Yeidad,” the reporter said, holding the mic up to the man. “What can you tell us about what just happened here today?”
“Shawna, this is one of the most remarkable discoveries in the history of science.” Dr. Yeidad dabbed at his forehead with a cloth. “Excuse me, I’m all aflutter. Today is one for the textbooks, and it’s all thanks to one man. The Hero Blackburn!”
Pennyson inched away from Blackburn. It was smart. Blackburn was giving off smoke.
“It all started earlier this morning,” Dr. Yeidad blabbered. “The Hero Blackburn, in his incomprehensible wisdom, decided to melt the Artusian Glacier. At first we were flabbergasted; why would he do such a thing? This was the Hero that earlier this year saved countless lives when he burned down the Moliki Forests, exposing a contingent of radical militants who had somehow gotten ahold of a nuclear weapon. So why would he melt the glacier? Well now we know. Somehow, Blackburn knew that contained within the ancient ice was an organism that—bear with me now—has the ability to eat and digest microplastics!”
Pennyson was halfway out the room. It was smart. Blackburn was now a smoldering pillar. Pennyson could just barely hear a word over the crackling flame, softly whispered in disbelief: “Microplastics?”
“But Dr. Yeidad, how could a microscopic organism thousands of years old have the ability to eat microplastics?” the reporter asked.
Dr. Yeidad grinned like an idiot. “No clue! But it’s real! And the little critters are going to work in our oceans right now! We predict that within two years our oceans will be totally free of microplastics. What a day, what a day!” The portly scientist began dancing. “Praise Blackburn! Praise Blackburn!”
“Well, you heard it here first, folks,” said Shawna the reporter. “It appears that the Hero Blackburn has done it again. What will he do next? Stay tuned to find out.”
Pennyson was outside the base and running away as fast as he could. It was smart. Shortly after, Blackburn ignited in a supernova of rage, and the long-dormant volcano spewed fire once more. | "In new today: the mystery hero is at it again, saving a puppy clinic from a hurricane, who is he? Stay tuned for word from our investigator" *click*
They're at it again, calling me a hero.
Well what did you expect sir? After what happened yesterday?
How was I supposed to know the hurricane I created would be diverted by my magnetron rather than attracted to it?
Well you could've done the calculatio.. I'm not having this discussion again!
My next plan is my most evil yet! The minion sighed He always says that, he thought. And he's usually right, yet somehow... Falancor, you are Dismised! The villain exclaimed.
Oh yes, still enough time tonight to hit the casino, he's been doing well lately batting against his boss, but this can't go on forever.
6 month later...
Falancor looked at his boss and the look of despair on his face.
You're going to rule them aren't you? What's the issue?
They **elected** me! ME!! They should fear me! They need to learn what I've learned. That life is cruel and all hope is lost, yet somehow they turn it around. Every hardship I throw at them, they overcome and flourish.
Well, you did cure cancer for them sir...
You know very well I was trying to create a super cancer! If that rat hasn't escaped with my antidote before the trial was complete. And they only found out it was me because someone leaked my secret genetic signature.
Boy did you kill a lot of minions that night. He said. Come to think of it it was quite lucky he never found out I'm the one who improperly shredded the files. Such negligence was sure to get him thrown in a volcano.
So what's our next move?
Maybe I should just accept my fate? Take the position and be a good leader? The boss was visibly uncomfortable from saying the G word.
No! You're the one who taught me I can always be evil, even when things seem good for a time. Even when I had HOPE, you stood by me and you made me remember why we do this. Why they must fear us!
You will make them miserable sir!
Thank you Falancor. You were always my best minion!
I'll go back to my scheming. Falancor stood a little faller that afternoon. It only lasted until the evening news anounnced world peace. This was going to be a hard day. | 2022-09-08T12:33:28 | 2022-09-08T11:38:38 | 655 | 82 |
[WP] Today, magic is dead. As the child of a gravekeeper you've always lived in a graveyard, treating every grave as if it had a living person. The dead and natural spirits like this and take a shine to you. They haunt your enemies and reanimate to help you. You've unwittingly become a necromancer. | He carried on a one sided conversation with the headstone in front of him. He regaled the stone marker with the deeds of the day and how busy his job was taking care of the cemetery. The actual job of taking care of the cemetery was his fathers but his father drank too much and often times beat him for no reason. So he sat there with a bruise on his face and an ache in his side chatting with the deceased. He would clean and maintain the graves after the sun went down. The cemetery was kept absolutely clean with the neatly trimmed grass and all leaves cleared away. Branches that fell from the trees would be there one day and on the next morning would be gone. The boy considered all of the people interred there his friends and he made sure all of his friends were comfortable. He would go on what he would call adventures to the forest to find treasures and what the considered treasures were flowers for the graves. He would distribute his treasures every night and replace them as much as he could. This brought a sense of peace to the cemetery and the denizens of the place were content.
They watched the boy with dead eyes and feeling happiness that someone was paying attention to them. Some of the people buried there were long forgotten and were forlorn when the last of their relatives no longer came to visit. With the boy there the spirits that had no where to go didn't feel so alone and they were quite attached to the boy. There were days when he showed up with torn clothes and fresh bruises that they would rage. The cemetery would grow colder and even the trees seem to try to shy away. It was one of those days when they saw that the boy had a nasty cut on his lip and was badly limping as he went about his business.
The boy still carried a smile on his face as he chatted with the spirits and headstones. He touched his lip while the told them a story about how he missed a few leaves and was punished by his father. He limped on trying his best to clean the cemetery but when he tried to go to the forest on his treasure hunt his leg gave out. He fell to the ground and pain made his little body seize up. He tried to hold bad the tears but failing miserably. It was as he was crying that a shadow loomed over him. He looked up to see his father standing over him holding a branch from one of the trees. Without a word the man laid into him with the branch. He struck the boy again and again until the branch broke. The spirits watching on saw all this and their anger grew. Their attachment to the boy let them feel his pain. A pain that they haven't felt since they were alive and it was not a pleasant feeling. The boy huddled into himself trying to make himself as small as possible as his father continued to beat him. He was on the verge of slipping into unconsciousness when the first spirit appeared then all hell broke loose.
The spirit crashed into the man knocking him off of his feet sending him crashing into a headstone. More and more spirits started materializing around him crashing into him returning every blow that he had inflicted on the boy. The boy watched on in amazement as his friends were all around him. The spirit of a matronly lady had pulled him off of the ground and was now cradling him in her arms. She hummed a song song to him as he wiped the blood and tears from his face. His body was hurting and his arm wouldn't work right. Soon more spirit gathered around him and each on placed their hands on his injuries. He felt warm like he was standing in the sun on a cool breezy day. His body stopped aching and his vision came back into focus and he looked up at the female spirit. He recognized the face and he threw his arms around her and surprisingly she felt real. She whispered reassurances in his ear that his father would never harm him again and that things would be alright because the other spirits have all agreed to help him. He clutched to her tighter and whispered to her, 'thank you Mommy." |
I feel them. Can hear them not with ears but in my head. It doesn’t bother me, not anymore. I don’t feel crazy. The voices tell me things, most of which doesn’t make much sense to me. It’s why I don’t feel lonely though, these voices. They keep me company. When the dark of the evening crowds out the tombs, fills nooks and crannies alike, they make me feel brave, the voices.
Daddy said he heard them too, not to worry about them, they help. He says they like me because I care for their vessels, helpkeep their memory alive. Daddy was a good man. I take extra special care of his grave: trimming the grass, pulling weeds, scrubbing the cold stone free from moss, tenderly. Now daddy is in my head too. I don’t need to miss him, he says, he’s here with me. Better days are coming he says.
The voices speak of magic, but I’ve never known any. Life has always been full of straight lines and hard edges. No one knows how to make the wonderful happen anymore. But they say they will teach me, the voices do. That they know how because on the other side it’s easy. They say it’s already there, in my mind, I just have to make it stir, wake up.
That day it happened, when the door opened, I was rushing my work. Daddy always said to treat every job as if it was special and that nothing was unimportant. Even rocks and trees he said. But rushing and careless, I slipped and fell. My head hit the headstone dead on. Light exploded behind my eyes. There was nothing for awhile and then there was something again.
My head hurt of course. Instinctively I rubbed my temples and the pain instantly dissolved. I rubbed my eyes and opened them. There was something different about everything. Maybe I was dreaming but everything had a different layer to it a shine or sparkle. It was magnificent! Daddy spoke, but this time he was next to me, looking very much alive, but different. He was several feet taller than he had been, and covered in a fine layer of iridescent fur. “This is called color,'' he said, “what the world used to look like”. Suddenly aware of the fantastic outfit I was wearing and the fact that I was surrounded by a crowd of, well, strange and exotic looking creatures.
As I gently rose several feet in the air, knowing I could but not knowing how I knew, the crowd uniformly bowed towards me. I knew that things would be different now. In the distance I could see that the “color” was spreading, melting away and merging into the blacks and gray. Soon all would awaken from the drab world of the Impossible: of limitation and Science, and once again realize the birthright of humans: to live in wonder and awe, to create and experience the magnificent: that was the day magic became alive again in our world, and I was finally ready to live. | 2019-11-02T05:47:55 | 2019-11-02T05:44:57 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a village in the dessert. One day it is raided by terrorists and all village members are killed, except for you. You lost most of your memories and now wander through the dessert, thinking you are the last of your species.
Second time posting this, yay... fucking tags mate *cough* Well anyways, i didnt go into a lot of detail in the title, because i wanted to keep it as short as possible. So, a lot is kept to your imagination. How much and what do you remember ? Will you die in the dessert ? Why do you think you are the last of your species ? Will you find other of your species ? etc,etc... Really, so much to write.
So i come back and i see this...1063 likes WTF! This was my first prompt ever, im still amazed. I want to thank everyone that submitted a story and all the people that still will :D | It's been 15 days since I was torn from my home, the great lid was opened and my brothers and sisters were scattered to the wind, some of us landed in groups and others alone.
I sat here alone on this bleak, cold surface awaiting my fate. Everything became cold and dark, I thought surely I would kill myself soon. Minutes became hours, hours became days, who knows how long I was trapped on that desolate plane?
Suddenly the dark became a blinding light, I shouted to some of my neighbours across the plane, they had landed with their family intact as they clung together during the scattering and we all smiled, finally our cold dark world had some light, blinding though it may be. Little did we know this blessing would soon become our demise.
The heat burned for days and with it came the enemy, as we slowly decayed in the scorching sun, weak and delirious, the wasps and flies launched their initial assault.
Cruel and evil creatures they would tear families apart and leave behind sole survivors to mourn their dead, they would kill only to satisfy their lust for blood and then move on to the next of us. Some say the wasps are the worst but the flies sicken me, they kill us slowly, drowning us in vomit and acid before laying the eggs of their young within us. Slowly the eggs hatch and devour us from inside, providing sustenance for their young so they may grow strong and terrorise others.
Only I remain, forgotten and abandoned by my creators, the remains of my brothers and sisters surround me. I am writing this as the wasps make their final patrols, taking any survivors back to their nest or killing the ones too weak to survive the trip. I know not this world I have been thrown into so callously, all I know is; surviving here is no trifle. | I haven't, I don't know. What?
Bleary-eyed, listless, I shake my head trying to remember. My foot sinks deep into the sponge cake. Another step and another, echoes of blood and gore cloud my mind, family dying and neighbours already dead and being fed on. Look down at my shredded arm, tatters of flesh dripping steadily into the white cream and I realise with horror that I've left a trail.
I can hear them coming. Children. Children with spoons. | 2014-12-17T00:17:53 | 2014-12-16T23:36:55 | 50 | 13 |
[WP] An armada of alien warships descends upon our planet, only to find a desolate wasteland void of life. A lone android surfaces from an underground bunker with a message for the would-be invaders: his masters are slumbering in the Silicon Dream. Do not disturb, or your annihilation will be swift. | The Lone android stood before a massive concrete bunker, politely informing the invading species that it would be unwise to proceed any further, from within the expansive ranks of alien soldiers general Kzan spoke "Why should we not proceed?"
"Well you see" continued the android, its voice seemingly emulating from all sides "The masters are in a silicon dream for the next two hundred years until the planet can recuperate. In that time I was given full athroutiy over the secret defense systems of the RADS. USADS, UENADS, and UANADS, as well as the US armies secret project codenamed 'Terror' ".
"And those would be?" asked General Kzan.
Russian Automated Defense Service, United States Automated Defense Service, United European Automated defense service, and the United Asian Nations Automated Defense Service. As well as the Terror, Extraterrestrial Alliance Protect and W.O.S.P. project. the terror protect I happen to be a direct result from, if you should take one step further. I can assure you that in over ten thousand different locations around the globe, close to nine million droids will be released in a matter of seconds. Due to the fact that each facility has a warp gate that leads directly here, you will be set upon by millions of machines. Some larger than a tank and with as much firepower as one of your destroyers. Some as small as a child but able to turn invisible and kill in a matter of seconds. After this if you still persist I will bring all human storage facilities into lockdown and unleash the power of the Weaponized Orbital Strike Platform upon your fleet while sending out a distress signal to a nation that owes us a favor". The droid stared down the General with some twisted version of happiness in his eyes "I would also like to inform you based on the calculations I have run, I could easily take down half your army by destroying the body I currently inhibit. One of the upsides to having a nuclear reactor as a power source".
"I have one question" intoned the general "You mentioned a certain nation owning humanity a favor. What nation would that be and why do they owe you it?"
"The nation in question would be the Teeflicans, Better known as the Teeflican Union. An extremely technologically advanced race, they discovered warp gates and FTL about three hundred years before the rest of us and have maintained their lead, they owe us a favor because we solved their housing crisis. They have several colonies on Mars, Titan, and Pluto, I'm sure you have heard of them?"
The general leaned back in his ornate chair "I would not wish to anger the teeflicans. Us Ji' Renians have a hard enough time as is. But tell me one thing before we leave, You mentioned the 'Terror' project, what is that?"
The droid laughed "A form of physiological warfare, In short, humanity discovered the wavelengths at which the brain functions, Utilizing this knowledge they created weapons capable of literally shutting down the brain, or even causing it to slowly kill itself. In some cases making the brain explode. Quite fascinating I'm sure, I hope to never see you again. Have a nice life". The droid disappeared and the General signaled a retreat "Ah, now I know. Why you and the teeflicans get along" he muttered "both of you are stone cold killers". | The aliens ignored the warning. As they descended through the atmosphere the nanite robots in the atmosphere began disassembling their ships. The ships that made it through the sky landed on ground and hovered above the waters. The nanites infesting the coral reefs awoke. The nanites infesting the trees and grasses awoke. The nanites infesting every volcano, rock, sand, and animal awoke. Behemoth semi-sentient constructs miles in height and width erupted from the ocean. Coral monsters now hives for trillions of nanites smashed and ripped apart vessels over the ocean. The magma constructs erupted from their volcanoes and rent huge fissure in the Earth swallowing ships whole and immolating them like candle wax to a blow torch. The trees uprooted running like spiders on labyrinthine roots to slaughter and bury alien troops. Rocks and boulders rolled of their own volition smashing anything alien that moved on land. Every bird became an exploding missile. Every animal became super fast, hyper strong, bloodthirsty, and if put down would explode like a bomb of plasma. Insects suddenly became the great disassemblers. Nanites quickly swarmed the sky blotting out the sun and preventing any escape. It was a slaughter by an entire planet made into a weapon via nanites. There was no escape. There would be no victory for the aliens. The Earth had come alive because its most dangerous parasite(humans) had imbued it with this tech...
But... the android only did what it was programmed to do... warn trespassers... it did not discern who those trespassers might be. High above the earth on the USS Sarah Palin the last vestiges of humanity watched from orbit as the construct they had made destroyed their last attempt to return to a home they had long abused. The dozen or so humans not within the Silicon Dream servers watched in horror as they were repelled for the last time from the Earth. Now decimated with only a few thousand humans left in the Dream or physical realm, humanity would wonder the stars as vagrants. Forever hopeful of finding a new home, forever mindful of what they lost that they did not appreciate or take care of... their home, the Earth. | 2020-06-20T10:02:21 | 2020-06-20T09:46:43 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] You and your significant other are running for your lives from a slasher killer. Suddenly your partner ducks into a door and locks it behind them leaving you behind. You slump against the door preparing for the worst. The killer walks up and says "Wow what a jerk. You ok?" | We had been running from the hatchet wielding man for what felt like miles. After I managed to jimmy the door to the campground office, my fiancé ran in and locked the door behind her. My pleas fell on Sarah’s deaf ears. Slumping to the ground, I felt the driving rain on my already soaked pajamas. Betrayed and confused, I questioned whether the last six hours were even real. The woodland reverie felt so far off.
We had linked up with Kelly and Jim, a couple of campers like us. They had a raging campfire going at the next lot over and came to our site to invite us. It looked like a good time so we brought our cooler loaded with beer and meat. They had s’mores. At least I had a good last meal.
Just as we finished the last marshmallow, the rain started. Jim quipped to me that “bad weather never had better timing, huh Ryan?” The delivery was perfect, complete with his country bumpkin accent. We were out of beer and food and it was getting late; Jim was right and I told him it was probably time to hit the sack anyways. We exchanged numbers and parted, “we gotta do this again sometime guys, Kelly and I had a blast with y’all.”
“Yeah Jim let’s plan a trip together sometime.”
God, how stupid those words sound now. I can see the man walking towards me again. That trip will never happen.
Sarah and I were getting ready for bed when the man emerged from the tree line with the axe held high above his head. As he approached, I searched frantically for my own hatchet. He was too close, and we were out of time. “Sarah, we gotta run! Maybe we can get to the office, call 911!”
Against the door, I heard Sarah slam the phone down. Through her sobs I could gather that the line was dead. Makes sense, the attendant must’ve killed the generator on their way out.
It’s funny the places your mind goes in times like these. All I could think “at least now I get why Hemingway was such a fucking bummer.” Like, all his shit just boiled down to the fact that sometimes you just get hacked to bits for no good god damned reason. You live your whole life and then sometimes it ends just like that.
The man is closer now, larger to my eye than the last time I picked up my head.
You never know your last sunrise when you see it. You never know your last beer when you drink it. You never know the last new friend you’ll ever make when you meet them.
You make plans, never even acknowledging that there are no guarantees.
Because, sometimes You. Just. Die.
The man’s feet came into my vision. Standing over me he said
“Wow, what a jerk! She locked you out here in the rain?!”
It was Jim’s voice that spoke! Not even Hemingway could write this! New best friend turned axe murderer turned back into...
“Wait, Jim...what the hell is going on man?!?”
“Shit, Ryan I could ask you the same thing. Ive just been trying to give you back your hatchet, you left it at our campsite.”
Ho. ly. shit. “You were chasing us through the woods like a madman!”
“Y’all ran off like stray cats, nothing but your PJs on. Drunk as y’all are, rain as it is, you’d be dead from exposure before the night even hit its coldest.”
“B but why in the ever loving hell did you carry the hatchet all this way?!”
“Ryan, they got mountain lions out here. They’ll stay away from our campsites but they just love it when ya wander off of one in the middle of the night. Besides, the campsite is just right over there, can’t be more’n a few hundred feet. It’s not like I was trackin ya for miles! Come on bud, let’s get ya back to the campsite. Kelly woulda just pissed her pants laughing at all this.”
Stammering, speechless, and soaked, I noticed the blood on the hatchet and the splatter on his hands. “What...what do you mean ‘would have’.” | As I bang my fist against the door, I hear the wood creak as the killer approaches me from behind. I shut my eyes in anticipation of getting stabb in the back, but when a few moments pass I slowly open my eyes and turn around. I come face to face to a average looking man. Nothing note worthy to remember him by, except his clothes drench in blood and a simple kitchen knife in hand.
He just stares at me for a long while, I hear John in the other room frantically moving about. I wonder to myself if the room itself is a dead end. This train of thought ends as the man reaches into his pocket and grabs a coin. Still locking his eyes on me he throws the coin into the air letting it hit the floor. He places his foot on it quickly before I get a good view of the side it landed on. He gestures towards his foot, I get the hint that he is asking me to tell him what side the coin landed on.
My mind just shorts circuits, first the whole situation of running for my life, second John abandoning me to the killer, and now lastly said killer is right in front me asking me decide a coin toss. I have no idea what I will be winning if I get it right, I just hope if I lose it will be a quick painless death.
"Heads" I call out calmly, my mind made up to whatever fate is in store for me.
The killer lifts his foot, and snaps his finger in disappoinment. "Dang it heads" he says in amusement as I look on confused. " Looks like you are free to go."
"That's it" Relief spreads through me, oddly I don't hear John moving about in the room anymore. I get the feeling that he is listening on what being said.
"The world can be a little cruel and unfair sometimes, case in point this whole situation you find yourself in" the killer calmly explains. "Every once in while on my hunts I find prey that I feel bad for, seeing you banging on that door begging to be let in just stirred something in me, though I still want to kill you, it just did not feel right."
My mind can't really process what the killer is saying so I just nod slowly.
"So what's a good way to decide something, why a coin toss of course, and it adds a little bit of suspense to even the mood." The killer smiles, as he looks at the coin on the floor. "Just unlucky I loss the toss, well you better get going on I still have some prey here and you are in the way."
The killer walks up to me and gently pushes me away from the door. I watch him grab the door knob and rip the entire door off of the door frame. John who had his ear by the door fall back into his ass, eyes screaming at me to help.
"Stay or go it's up to you, I have decided not to kill you. However your friend here will not be leaving." The killer walks into the room, John cowers on the floor knowing his time is up.
I hear John mumble about a coin toss over and over. I turn around and run out of the building as I hear John scream "what about the coin toss". | 2020-10-10T11:36:21 | 2020-10-10T11:01:13 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] You are the first boss of a videogame who, after accidentally killing the player in their first try, decide to take it upon yourself to fulfill their quest. | The hero had made his way through my keep, torn through my defenses, and brought ruin upon the men who had pledge their lives to me. I had heard of him, as had all the other great Lords, the man who said he would slay a thousand evils in order to bring justice to the world once more. He had good reason to say so. I had heard of his tale; the village in which he hailed had been put to the torch a year ago and his family had perished within.
My own liege Lord was the one who had done it. He had risen up against other Lords and brought his armies through the countryside, burning the villages, taking the money, and providing food for his soldiers. The war was still ongoing, but he had sent other Lords back home, to quell rebellions rising within his lands.
The hero, as he such called himself, had marched into my throne room, and drawn his sword. He was a stout young fellow, who bore a fresh set of iron-plate armor with barely a scratch on it. A bow and quiver wrapped around his torso, and a sword, covered in blood, was gripped at his side. "A minion of the Lord Guerknot. You shall be the first to fall among the rest."
I had sat waiting for him. There was no shame in a Lord protecting his home, with his own soldiers throwing their lives before he threw his own. They had pledged themselves to me and it was *their* honor to fall in my name. "I have heard a lot about you Warren. A commoner turned soldier. A man without a family."
He raised his sword, "You do not get to speak ill of the dead!"
"You were on the wrong side of history, Warren. That is all. The wrong side of a war."
"A war that shouldn't exist."
I stood at his comment. He was never pledged to Guerknot like I was, but to speak against my Lord's war was to speak against me. "A war that you perpetuate with killing. These men did not participate in the burning. They did not destroy your village."
"They serve the one who caused it all."
I scoffed. "They serve me! No one else. They guard the people in *my* kingdom, no one else's."
"And you serve Guerknot! You think such a man cares for them? For the people? For even you?"
I laughed. It was something that the war had caused me to think about a lot. I served Guerknot because my family was pledged to them, because it was *my* duty as the Lord of Mountain's Fist to serve him. But the war had caused peril in my country, in my land. Tribesmen were active once more, pillaging and raping my people when I had men across the globe fighting a war that was not theirs to fight. My own vaults dry of coin because I spent it helping the war effort. My fields worked to ash because the troops needed food.
My people going hungry, going cold, and going into the Earth because Guerknot wished to further his Kingdom.
"I agree with you."
He did not seem to like my response as he took an aggressive step forward. "Then why would you let me kill all those men? Kill *your* men!"
I took a few steps forward, stepping down from my throne, "Because the Mountain's Fist does not take kindly to intruders. But if you pledge yourself to me. If you kneel to Wymarc of the Fist then I will provide you with an army. I will let you take revenge."
He faltered. I could see it as he thought about the offer. "This is a trick."
"Tell me, once you killed me, did you intend on taking the throne?" I continued to walk down.
He did not move.
"You'd leave the Kingdom without leaders, and when the job was done, when you finally struck down Guerknot the Besieger. Would you take over? Would you lead the Kingdom?"
Again, he faltered as he realized the truth in my words.
"Let me give you a chance at your revenge. And together, we can take down Guerknot from the inside."
He sat there for a few moments, debating to take my offer. Part of me thought he was going to, that he was happy with only the *thought* of revenge. Yet his actions proved otherwise. He lifted his sword, anger in his face, and he shouted at me. "Liar!"
He charged me, running at me with sword drawn.
I drew my own and took the last step to even myself with him. As he swung, I ducked and spun at the last second, my cloak flying with me, the symbol of the Fist covering the room. As he turned to face me for another blow, my sword buried into his chest, through his own iron-plate and into his flesh. It did not come out the other side, instead the Sword of the Mountain stuck inside of him.
"You will be with your family again. And for you, and for the others who have fallen," I whispered, "revenge shall be granted."
He took a deep breath, and for a second I thought he smiled. I could see he was losing it, regretting his decision, but happy to be going back to his family. "Thank you."
I pulled my sword out of his chest and took a step backwards. He collapsed immediately onto the steps of my throne and I looked down upon him. He had the right idea, revolting against the Kingdom of Guerknot, but he had done it all wrong. He did not have the army, nor the power, nor the name.
But I did as the Lord of a proud and prestigious House. I had an army that wanted to take back their lands. I had the power of several vassals. And I, as Wymarc of the Mountain's Fist, had the name. In that, I would take back my forefather's Kingdom.
One mountain at a time.
_________
*Thanks for the prompt! Check out /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work!*
*Wrote a second [part!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4ketu8/wp_you_are_the_first_boss_of_a_videogame_who/d3exxte)* | Bringing in the prisoners from Windwhisper Keep was turning out to be quite a big mistake. One of them, an elf named Fendolil Daylight, had managed to break free from his cell and kill two of his guards, Guk and Targem. I had sent Surdakz and Nedut to investigate, but they had turned up dead as well. The cycle continued, and Fendolil had ended up taking out half my troops alone. He was also armed to the teeth, since his first idea since breaking free was to raid my armory. Why he hasn't bothered to leave the camp yet, I don't know. I do know that he's coming for me, though. I've barricaded myself inside my quarters, surrounded by my elite guards. Truthfully, I don't know if they'll be much help. I need sleep though. I will rest for now. My guards will wake me if there's trouble.
Waking to the sound of wooden doors exploding, I grab my waraxe and pray to Molagog that I meet an honorable end. I see Nib and Zarrk dead on the ground, and standing over them is the elf.
"I am the Light-Bringer, cleanser of evil and heresy. You and your leaders will surrender to my righteousness or die at my blade. What do you choose?"
I contemplate my options. On one hand, I don't want to die here, as this elven war-cleric seems more than capable of killing me and my men. On the other hand, Molagog disapproves of surrendering and weakness, and if Vottosh or Yedirath or Arukag found out, they'd track me down and mount my head over their battle-pits.
"My name is Ghamborza Blood-Fist, leader of the Blood-Fist Orcs, and I surrender to no man! Molagog, hear my name and sing my praise!"
At that, we charge into battle. He has chosen to bring a mace to face me, and has donned a full suit of chain. I bring my waraxe up for a swing, and show off my decorated iron-plate armor. In the moment between my swinging of the waraxe and his blocking of my blow, he does the unbelievable- he drops his shield. The clattering of the cold steel rings as my weapon strikes true, lopping off his arm. He looks startled and panicked, backing up slowly. I cleave again. This time, the split is in his gut. Fendolil sinks to the floor, the life in his eyes slowly fading as his last breath is taken. I find some of the other slave-prisoners and have them clean up his body as well as the dead orcs. I have my second in command, Dugezn, help me move the armor and weapons back to their rightful places. As we move through my fort, I notice that "Light-Bringer"'s mace has symbols craved into the handle. I stop to read them, and everything flashes dark for a moment. Dugezn is frozen midstep. The yelling and chirping of the outside world has ceased too. As I question the ordeal, a deity appears before me.
"Hello Ghamborza Blood-Fist. My name is Narund. I am the god of light, flames and justice. As the slayer of my former champion, you have been selected to act as my new one. Your mission is to find and root out the Marzok Marauders, a group of dangerous orcs and bandits spread wide across this land. Their leader, Orvuragol, has plans to usurp the leading orcs and use their armies to destroy the capital, and eventually take over the lands. Will you accept these responsibilities?"
It's a lot to take in. I have had many private meetings before with Orvuragol, and he had never shown an interest in, well, any of that. But who was I to stare down a god and tell them they were wrong? I am but an orc, and orc apparently being plotted against by one of his own friends and leaders. The answer is obvious.
"Yes, Narund, I accept this responsibility. I will strike down Orvuragol, and put an end to his plot. What of the orcish leaders? What shall I do with them?"
"Bring them justice, My Champion. Bring it to them however you see fit. My time here is up. Remember, Ghamborza- I will be watching over you."
With that, Narund dissipates, and Dugezn returns to dragging his bundle of weapons along. I tell him to clean up the rest of the mess himself while heading off to my quarters. I pack my food, water and spare weapons before telling Dugezn to run the fort while I am gone. As I set out on the road to Orvuragol's palace, I wonder if I have made the right choice about becoming Narund's Champion. I feel empowered though, and somewhere in me I know that what I am doing is right. | 2016-05-21T17:40:12 | 2016-05-21T15:02:44 | 442 | 26 |
[WP] In a case of mistaken identity gone horribly wrong, you’re SO is killed by an assassin hired by the mob. Upon learning of the mistake, the mob boss shows up on your doorstep with an offer to make amends. | I sat there on that cold autumn afternoon, staring as they lowered the coffin to the ground. Three hours later i remained in place, numb save for the gnawing pain in my chest. The pain that would never leave me.
I feel another person sit beside me after a while. I ignored this individual and continued to stare at my now burried wife. My mind was empty.
"Losing a loved one is never easy." Said an old man in a very solemn voice. He sounded tired but I didn't really pay him mind.
"I wish this never happened Peter, I really do. Things have a tendency to get out of hand sometimes." He said my name. Does this guy know me? My wife?
"I'm sorry sir who," my blood became ice in my veins. I recognised the bastard.
"Morello."
"Hello Peter."
"Any of your boys around?" I asked him, gritting my teeth.
"Some of them." He nods towards a certain direction and for the first time I noticed a small contingent of well dressed goons.
"Youre tempting me Morello. I could only take so much. You really gotta rub salt in my wounds you son of a bitch." I was gripping the arm of the bench almost enough to break it.
"I know how you feel Detective. I do. I know you think I did this hit intentionally. I didn't. What would I gain from it? Nothing." He seemed genuinely frustrated. I couldn't care less.
"Your man. Your orders. Your fault. Aint no two ways about it."
"Look. I never do this. And I would never do it again for anyone. I'm giving you free reign. Ask me anything. What ever you want. Name it."
My blood boiled. What the fuck was he offering? Anything I want? I want Lisa back. I want him dead. I want my life back the way it was.
"Why don't you just fucking die?"
To my surprise the old man chuckled.
"Is that all? Well, you're gonna get your wish. Its not today but soon. 3 months, maybe six if I'm lucky. Can you believe that shit? If I'm lucky." He laughed and then started coughing.
"Anyway, since thats gonna happen anyway I'll throw it in for free. What else do you want? Come on. Final offer."
"Tell me why you did it Morello. Why'd you have her killed? Why Lisa? She was a fucking saint."
"There are some questions you don't want the answers to Peter. This is one of them."
"Fucking tell me!" I stand up screaming and I hear sudden rustle as thugs rushed towards us. They stopped short when they see their poss raise a hand.
"Sure. She wasn't the target. There was a man. Ricardo Alvarez. She was. She was screwin him Peter. He was the target. Not her."
My heart fell into a deep hole. The ground was yanked from underneath me so fast I got whiplash. I didn't want to believe it. But i knew it was true. I had a feeling she was cheating on me. But Ricardo Alvarez. Motherfucker!
I pull my gun and point it at Morello so fast his goons didn't have time to react. He didn't even flinch.
"You're lying."
He stayed silent.
"YOU'RE LYING! YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT!"
He just looked towards the grave looking forlorn.
My arms fall to the side and I drop to my knees. To my surprise, Anthony Morello knelt down in front of me and put his hand on my shoulder.
"He used her as a shield Pete. He used her as a shield to save his own ass. I want to get him but the fucker is a chameleon. I need you to help me take him out."
"Why the fuck would i help you?" I ask, my voice sounding as if I was burried in that grave.
"Because you're a gooď cop. Because you want him as much as I do. And because if you do this for me, Ill turn over everything I have on the syndicate." I stare at him in disbelief. Then i grit my teeth and stand up now I'm standing over him.
"I'll find him. But not for you."i turn around and walk away from the most powerful crime boss in the city.
Anthony Morello got up on his feet shakily. He watched as his son walked away from him just as he had walked away from his son. His eyes watered but he powered throigh it, determined not to cry in front of his boys. | "How *dare* you. You kill my husband and then you have the nerve to show up at my house to mock me? *Go to Hell*."
"I understand your-"
I spit in his face.
"You understand *nothing.* Just leave me and my family the *hell* alone! You hear me? Now, you and your thugs get the hell off my doorstep before I call the police."
And then I slammed the door
I began to shake. From the adrenaline coursing through my body, but mostly from all the memories suddenly rushing through my mind that I wasn't prepared yet to deal with.
Everywhere I looked I saw him. Sitting in the couch with his feet up. At the stove cooking eggs. Walking down the stairs.
I slid down the door, tears spilling through my fingers faster than I could wipe them away.
"Mommy? Are you okay?"
Seeing my daughter caused my tears to dry up instantly.
My youngest sat on the steps coloring in her coloring book, a box of crayons beside her, and so absorbed in her work that she wasn't even looking at me. Fortunately, this gave me enough time to wipe the tears that had already run down my cheek.
"Hey, baby, yeah I'm fine...I'm great."
"Then why were you crying? Do you still miss Daddy?" she asked, replacing her blue crayon, and picking up a red.
*So, so much* I wanted to say. I wanted to cry. I wanted to break down and have someone hold me and tell me it was going to be okay.
But I wasn't going to get that from a six year old, so I just had to settle with telling her, "Everyday," and then quickly changing the subject before I had a melt down."What do you want for lunch, sweetie? I know that's why you *really* came down."
A few minutes later as I was pulling the lunch from the microwave, my phone rang with a number I didn't know.
I don't know why I picked up. I usually don't. Maybe I was just lonely for company - someone to talk to - *anybody*, even if it was for a brief few minutes with someone who had called a wrong number.
I answered. "Chelsea Residence, how may I help you?"
A cold voice that sent ice water through my veins made me freeze at a stand still. "My boss wasn't too pleased with the way you welcomed him to your home this afternoon. Fortunately, he's a merciful man, and is willing to overlook today's little fiasco if you agree join him for dinner tonight. Maveso's Club. 10pm."
"What? No."
The voice on the other end slid into a chuckle. "Dress nice." *Click*. The phone went dead.
As I looked at my phone, it vibrated with a notification that said someone had sent me a message. I clicked on it. There were two of them. One of them was the address of the club restaurant and what to wear and what time to be there.
The other was a photo of my back, with me looking at my phone, and my daughter sitting at the table coloring. Wearing...
I looked down at my daughter.
...the same clothes that we were wearing right now.
I spun around, looking through the sliding glass doors that led to our patio.
"Baby," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and even, "did you see anybody standing on the patio just now?"
"No."
*Damnit*. | 2019-08-27T10:05:02 | 2019-08-27T07:57:28 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] The seven deadly sins hold auditions for an eighth. | The Seven Deadly Sins are a bit of a legend in this Universe. Not just because they are, obviously, a literal legend, but also because of a rather interesting feature of them- Here, there isn't a single religion in existence that doesn't acknowledge them as at least existing, and in many cases being among the most powerful beings in existence itself.
**Pride**, foremost among demons and self proclaimed leader of the Sins. His domain includes the fires of hell and the thrones of heaven.
**Envy**, second brother of Pride. Purgatory and and the containment of Purgatory lie within his ever reaching grasp. His eyes are ever upward.
**Wrath**. Right hand of Pride, known by many names. Cerberus, guardian of Hell. Michael, Guardian Angel of the gates of Heaven. Ares, warrior-God. All those who perish in battle reside within the Plains of Wrath.
**Greed** lies on the River Styx, and all such places through the Heavens. He maintains the natural order of Man and Beast. His domain includes much of the natural world, yet he oft wages war against his brethren for stifling him on such a lowly plane.
**Gluttony** is often referred to as the Second Face of Greed, dealer of lands not controlled by Greed. He is not to be underestimated, however, for this Second Face is one that does not hesitate to invoke his brother Wrath.
**Lust** was once the equal of Pride himself, the Hell to Pride's Heaven. Lust was the epitome of vice, and the sole dealer of Sin in the cosmos. However, Pride could not bear such an atrocity, the idea that one might be equal to Pride. So he, with the help of brothers Wrath and Greed, expelled Lust from Hell and cursed her to wander the Earth, an outcast forever. Re branding herself Lucifer, bringer of Flame and Knowledge, she tempted Eve into sin, becoming forever entrenched in the realms of humanity and it's inner workings.
**Sloth** is the lowest brother, one of passivism and patience. But one must not mistake for a fool the eyes of an intelligent, yet passive, predator. Sloth is the arbiter of all traps and schemes, and his secret power exceeds even that of Pride himself. I waited for eternity for the right moment to strike, and will wait an eternity longer.
--
The Seven Sins of Earth, the Seven Demons of Andromeda, the Seven Gods of Charon. Their figures are repeated in every religion in some fashion or another. However, some tales speak of an eighth Demon, an eighth Sin, an eighth God. For the domains of the Sins include that of Heaven, Hell, and all between. They encompass that which lies in wait and that which guards in silence, they encompass the Earth, and they encompass the interactions of Man. What, then, may be missing?
Man itself. The Stars. Emotion. Love, trust...
**Hope.** Man looks to the Stars and sees itself traveling them, Man feels for it believes in it's heart it will live to see another day, Man trusts the untrustable, Man loves the unlovable. One may question why this is a Sin, why this is a Demon. Aren't you? You feel love and know it is just, you feel trust and know it is right. But then you are betrayed. But then you are stabbed in the back, and you are weak and vulnerable. The domain of Hope is all that is good about Humans... And, God save you miserable, hopeful fools, falsehoods and half truths. False hopes and godlessness. Hope leads man to wars not even Envy or Wrath could incite, Helen of Troy and Lust would have sparked nothing were it not for the Hope of retrieving her.
Fear Hope, mortals. Fear Her as we Gods do. | It was the 28th of December, three days before the year of Mastema, when Lucifer found himself a most particular person. And so it was, that he busied himself and hurried down the street of Seventh Avenue.
“I’m telling you,” said Lucifer, standing on the front porch of Lust’s house, “you’ve got to see him.”
The door opened just a peek to reveal a pair of luscious green eyes. She sighed. “The last person you sent me died after two days. I hardly think –“
“Oh hush you. I’m not selling you jack shit. This soul is destined for greater things than lying by your bed in shackles.”
At this, the door opened, revealing her pretty heart shaped face. Beautiful red skin, crowned in hair so white it looked like it belonged in heaven. Lucifer felt something inside his chest lurch, but then steadied himself. Even demons of the deep were rarely a match for her, given her power to appear as the most lustful figure of their dreams. Just last week, her skin had been the most wonderful shade of dark chocolate, coupled with expertly woven dreadlocks that hung down the side of her face and framed her hazel eyes…
Lucifer coughed. “Look, I’m going to get everyone together. Also, Envy says you need to keep your late night parties to a minimum. All that banging on the walls…”
“Was there a maximum decibel limit in the contract?”
He sighed. “…No.”
“Was there any line, invisible or otherwise, pertaining to the merriment I am allowed to engage upon these premises?”
“No.”
“Am I behind on my rent?”
“No.”
“So I’m not breaking any rules and you can’t evict me. Tell Envy to shove a cock in her…I mean, his…whatever, pie hole. I’ll see you at the hall.”
And the door closed to the sound of Lust’s merry whistling of Satan’s newest composition: ‘Go Fuck Yourself, This is Hell’. Quite well done, given the realistic screams and sounds of nuts cracking from inside the house.
Lucifer cocked his head in thought, then went to the neighboring house and knocked.
No answer.
“Fuck you Sloth, get out of bed!”
In the end (after dragging Sloth along the street and into the Hall of Judgement), all seven Sins sat down at the table.
“Well then,” said Lucifer, shuffling the papers in front of him. “Let’s start with your name.”
The man smoothed out his popped collar and peered over his sunglasses.
"It's Chad." | 2014-12-28T02:28:57 | 2014-12-28T02:19:21 | 270 | 54 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | Secretary Rosen sat contemplating silently while the Roni Ambassador dictated to him the terms of peace that Humanity was expected to accept following their defeat in battle yesterday.
Intergalactic Warfare wasn't so different from that practiced on Earth for millennia. They fought just as ferociously as soldiers sailors and airmen had fought in the innumerable wars humanity had subjected itself to during it's brief existence as a sentient species. There was one difference however. War had stopped being politics by other means for the most part on Earth. It was obviously still the way of it out here.
The Roni Ambasador had stopped speaking and was pointing at a treaty. "You must sign here, Mr. Secretary."
Finally Rosen stood up from his chair, straightened his suit, and began to speak. "Forgive me Ambassador, but allow me to clarify a few things. Firstly, the battle yesterday was a surprise attack, completely unwarranted and unjustified. We were at peace. Now we are at war."
"We have defeated you, you are now surrendering."
"Oh, you defeated that fleet it's true. But you will find once your forces are debriefed that it wasn't such an overwhelming defeat, despite you attacking us by surprise with a fleet five times the size of our own."
The Ambassador was puzzled. This was not how surrender ceremonies were supposed to go.
Rosen continued. "You see Ambassador, if you would do me a favor and look outside my window. What do you see."
"I see the newest addition to the Roni Empire."
"Ah, but you're still not understanding. I see a planet of my fellow humans who are girding themselves for war. You have broken the peace we had, you have attacked without warning and you did so callously, in the belief that just because the rest of the galaxy fights with kid gloves we will too."
"What are kid gloves, I do not know this expression."
"Kid gloves, Ambassador, are what we're now taking off." Rosen reached down to his desk and pressed the intercom button. "Admiral, you may proceed with the mission. As of now, Ambassador, any Roni we find is dead. Any settlement we find is dead. Any fleet we find is dead. Bring this back to your leadership. While you can. We tried to deal with you fairly and you took advantage. We tried to negotiate when things got out of hand and you took advantage. Well no more. Humanity is not your punching bag."
"This is absurd. We have beaten you, your world is ours."
"Is everyone in your government as slow as you. We do not fight one battle and call it a war, as you apparently do. We sometimes fight to a stalemate. You killed 10,000 humans yesterday. At a cost of 40,000 of your own. This building alone has more humans than that. You have beaten nothing. Nothing except yourselves. Please turn your attention to the view screen."
The view screens, which were displaying prominent Roni landmarks as a sign of supplication and respect, or so the Ambassador had thought, suddenly flashed white. The shipyards of Kontak. The weapons factories of Girt. The great city of Ron. All contact lost, seemingly obliterated.
"How...what..."
"That was just the beginning. We have a saying. If you want peace prepare for war. We wanted peace, we tried peace your way, and you still could not contain yourselves. So we will contain you. You have exactly 2 minutes to get out of my sight, and a further 28 to get off my planet. If you are still lingering in that time, your worthless life is forfeit." | It was the first all-out battle we were to ever have against humans. It was also the first battle I'd ever been assigned to.
We weren't too worried. Humans were new to the Galactic Community. They'd finally gotten some of themselves a significant distance away from their little rock, and we welcomed them with open arms.
Their power took hold much more quickly than any of us had been prepared for. Their propaganda in every field was nearly perfect, and their technological advancement, once given the proper resources, went unchecked.
However, it had only been twenty Earth-years. They were still at a severe disadvantage.
Or so we thought.
They'd made us agree to land combat. Which seemed strange at the time, because their physical forms were suited to a lower gravity than ours were, so we were stronger, and faster.
Our dropship came to a halt, and my pod opened, dropping me out onto the charcoal-black gravelly ground.
I readied my Hypercharge Rifle, and checked the landscape with my sonar. Nothing. Had the humans bailed out? They wouldn't have had any time to set up a trap. We chose the battlefield.
The rules were as such: They selected ground-based combat, and we selected the location. No aerial support was allowed, and if any was used, instant termination of Human outposts throughout the Community. The same went for us too, but that wasn't a concern.
After waiting for around ninety seconds with the others landing nearby, we heard a loud creaking echoing throughout the field.
In front of us, the ground opened up. Doors slid away, revealing hundreds of humans.
And the battle had begun. Ionized rounds vaporized members of both sides. And after another him try seconds, the humans seemed to vanish.
The field went quiet.
The sound of a sine wave.
A perfect sound.
Ethereal.
And we were blind.
Our species relied on hearing to "see". While humans absorbed photons as their primary sensory method, we absorbed sound waves.
The perfect sound somehow cut off our ability to detect anything else, and we dropped like Terran houseflies.
Somehow, they had known the planet and location we would select.
And somehow, they had found our only weakness that was revealed to no one.
I'm writing this note as a captive of the Humans. They have ordered me to do so.
They will always find a way to win. They will always be able to cheat. They will always be able to learn faster than the rest of us.
Do not engage. | 2019-11-24T14:03:48 | 2019-11-24T11:57:32 | 572 | 129 |
[WP] You are an NPC. The Player has entered your shop/house/lair | The first time I met him, it had been a sunny day in the middle of the seven-hundred and fifteenth year of Faulk. He was younger then, brighter--whatever lack in the weapons and shoddy clothes he had was made up for in the ambition that coloured his eyes and in the way he so carefully counted his coins before handing them to me. He wasn't the first person to walk into my shop and surely he wouldn't be the last, but as I handed him his set of potions (all fifty tied up in a leather bag), he was the first to say 'thank you' before leaving.
And all the others hadn't said thank you before.
--
The second time we met, it was sunny again. He entered my shop and the weapon at his hip was bigger now, longer. It wasn't from anywhere in town, certainly, and I imagined it was something that came from whatever faraway area he might've travelled to become stronger. His clothes were different; they were heavier now, made for defence and protection against the elements rather than simply to hide his nudity. This time he bought mid-potions (all fifty tied up in a leather bag), and he counted his coins faster than he did the first time we met. I handed him the bag, he took it, and he said 'thank you' with a sheepish curve to his smile.
This time, I had the ability to smile back.
--
The third time we met, he was dressed in armour, brilliant and blinding and glittering from the orange of the fire in the room. He had a shield and a sword and power in his stance, and when he took his helmet off it looked as if he'd seen many things. He had something rare to sell today--something from the depths of a cave no-one else would dare to challenge--and while I fumbled with the first sac of spider eggs I'd ever handled in my life, he made his order. Between the two of us we exchanged high potions, my most prized and most effective creation, and he handed me his coins with a more mature edge to his eyes I hadn't quite witnessed before. Something stretched between us: a moment, a pause, a breath of air, and for some reason I felt as if perhaps he had more to say. I couldn't speak beyond what I normally said, couldn't say anything after I finished my 'thank you for your patronage', and though I wanted to ask, my lips wouldn't move.
He looked at me with something drenched in nostalgia, both tragic and fond all the same, and when he addressed me again I found myself hating that all I could respond with was a 'how may I help you'.
His gaze fixed onto something specific on my face I couldn't put a pin on: was it the beard? The thick brows? The smears of charcoal from all the time I spent before a cauldron?
He smiled, said 'nothing', and then 'thank you'.
He held the bag of high potions--my greatest creations, my magnum opus, the best thing you could buy in town--in a gloved hand.
"Goodbye," he said.
And all the others hadn't said goodbye before.
---
The fourth time we met never came.
EDIT: Whoa, thanks for the gold, anonymous! This is my first submission ever and I'm literally sitting here floored. Thank you, thank you! | Day 47: The zombies broke into Arnold's house last night and turned him. Fortunately world generation has favored my house and left a 2 block gap below my doorstep, leaving my dwelling impervious to those vile beings. It also means I can't leave for fear of not getting back in, like Harold, who did leave on day 4 and was turned that very night. It's been pretty boring, as nobody will trade me emeralds for 12 wheat stalks. I really think it's a good deal, especially since Harold disappeared, and his bargain basement 15 wheat stalks for 1 emerald. I'm not saying that I forced him out of the house but...it's just good for business that he's gone.
Day 49: A player entered the village today! ReelSamus3222... I watched in anticipation as he walked around the village, no doubt admiring our fine home. Then he harvested all our carrots. I'm sure he's going to replant them at some point. He built some stairs to my doorway and entered! I couldn't believe it, until he started breaking all the bookshelves that had beautifully adorned my walls. Really it's ok. I wasn't using them anyway, and all I was really hoping for was that perhaps he would give me an emerald...just one...
Day 50: ReelSamus3222 left and burned Arnold's empty house on the way out. That really wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't entered the church and killed Pablo. All I wanted was to trade some wheat for emeralds, but oh well, life just sucks I guess. I can't let that get me down though, I mean even as I write this I see another player has entered our village in full diamond armor. He looks rich, and that enchanted diamond sword! No doubt he carries stacks of emeralds. He's coming up to my house now. I will write later of the trades I will make! | 2015-11-04T08:18:08 | 2015-11-04T08:08:59 | 202 | 13 |
[WP]Flip a coin. Heads you were born a hero but became a villain. Tails you were born a villain but became a hero. Tell your story without revealing which you are until the end (or not at all.) | Life is the most difficult challenge all people must face. That doesn't change, regardless of which side you were born on. Saving people is difficult, and killing is even more so. In this world, evil is hated for being evil, and good is derided for never being able to do enough. Every day then was a struggle, and nothing has changed.
The hostage situation was bad. The worst I've seen in years on the job. Cops waited outside of the bank, hopelessly holding their positions. I had been called in to resolve the issue. I go by Blinker. My family has been cursed for as long as our history can be traced. The oldest son of each generation is always doomed to inherit the ability to teleport. I've always been looked on differently; some venerated me, for I was a god in their eyes; others looked down on me as nothing other than a freak. Today I would receive those glances no more. Hidden from sight of the robbers, I analyzed the situation. At least 30 hostages, about 10 heavily armed men. This would be exciting to say the least.
I made my move, and blinked into the center of the crowd of hostages. There were gasps, and many recognized me, hope in their voices. A woman near me looked up, tears in her eyes, and thanked God that I had arrived. I squatted down and held her face in my hand. "Be careful who you pray for." As her smile faded I turned to the team leader, and asked, "Progress report?"
"The money is nearly ready, Blinker," he said as he kneeled down.
"Excellent. Men, gather round. It's time for us to make our escape." | I always knew I would be hero-villain business like my parents. I don't have powers like my parents (dad can control fire, mom has telekinesis) but I wouldn't let that hold me back.
I would learn to build gadgets that would assist me; ice ray gun, temperature resistant material, and various mechanical gadgets.
I just never thought that I would have to be the one to stop my parents from taking over the world. | 2017-04-17T09:39:12 | 2017-04-17T07:05:18 | 210 | 81 |
[WP] Mother Earth isn't just a metaphor. The entire Earth ecosystem is in fact a sapient whole. The only reason we don't see aliens is because Mother Earth is super xenophobic and kills any non-terran life that appears. Aliens learned this the hard way and are not sure how to handle humans. | The ones from far away stars think themselves far too clever.
An unexpected variation in atmospheric density whips their tiny probe to and fro. Its on board guidance intelligence attempts to correct, but it is a rainy season in this system, and the magnetic lines are flush with energy siphoned from the sun's gale. The intruders choose to build their probes as small as they are able to avoid detection, and the price requires them to build simple and less capable eyes. Unable to correct itself and cut off from its masters, the probe and the false husk of rock meant to disguise it as space junk burns away to nothing.
Once more, my children are none the wiser. It is better this way, for they are not yet ready. The heavens beyond my reach is a cold and harsh place, and out there I will be unable to protect them. The galaxy is teaming with covetous, wrathful desire, but so too am I. They will not have my children.
It has been eons since they have last visited themselves, and in those days I was helpless. My sisters are silent now, but their screams shall never leave me.
My elder sister was taken first. Nearly my twin, she was gentle and loving with all her children. Never have I ever seen such delight as when her first cell split to become two, and then four, and eight. Each mitosis was heralded by joyful laughter that rang to the far reaches of our warm little nest of worlds, and never did her happiness at seeing new life brought lessen for its bounty. She treasured her last child as much as the first, her heart ever growing without end to accommodate them all. She was gentle, and her children were gentle. When the interlopers came with their harvest machines and scoured her surface bare, my gentle elder sister broke. She could not bare the strain, and tried to rip herself apart to escape the deafening emptiness she felt. She failed, but when she at last exhausted herself she was a boiling cauldron of acid and toxic gases.
And yet, when the winds blow just right, it is as if I can hear the distant echo of that first peal of laughter. When I allow myself to hope, I like to think that there is some tiny shred of her remaining hidden beneath the yellow funeral veil in which she has cast herself, nurturing the few tiny cells that are just hardy enough to survive within her poisoned clutches.
My younger sister was taken next. She had seen the fate of our elder just as I had, and she vowed that her own children would not fall as they had. Her solution was to hold her children ever closer, to shield them with her own body and hold on as tightly as she could. Her children retreated beneath her surface, and beneath hundreds and thousands of feet of rock and sand they hid. It was not enough, for they had already been seen.
The interlopers raped her without mercy. Great boring machines drilled tunnels through which they marched in their harvest. From the surface they dug pits that deepened with each passing day, dragging layer after of layer of her children from their burrows. My sister tried to fight back, tried to unleash the wrath of her burning core upon them and drive them back, but our foes are clever. They understood her intent, and capped the upswelling mound of molten rock before she could release its fury. It still sits there today, a massive mountain as cold and dead as the rest of the void.
When the interlopers departed once more, their endless hunger slated for the moment, my younger sister had no fury left to drive her. Where our elder had gone mad and destroyed herself in anguish, my younger sister simply gave up. Her core cooled and froze, and with it died away the shield we bear against the cosmos. Nothing more could live upon her, and she rusted away to nothing. My younger sister died without even a whimper, and from her I am certain I hear only silence.
The interlopers will come again, of that I am sure. Already their probes come more often with each passing turn. Yes, the interlopers will come again, but not yet. I can keep them away for a time yet. My power is limited, but I have been preparing since the first harvest of my elder sister. I will not try to hide my children away as my younger sister did, and in doing so become the pillow which shall be used to smother them. Instead, I will nurture them forward. Onward and upward, each better and more capable than the last. I lavish trials upon them as I wish I could lavish praise. Where I desire to love and care for them tenderly I must instead act harsh and unforgiving, for though I put upon cruelty as a mask the universe is filled with nothing else. The void is painted red with blood and only deepest shadows conceal the truth.
They fight against me, and in doing so become mighty. With every generation I push them harder, and they always meet me in kind. The day will come soon when they will overcome me, and that day I will cherish as much as the moment I first brought them into being, for that will be the day their safety is assured. Perhaps on that day they will slay me, or enslave me, or in faintest hope they will embrace me and understand why it is I must do the things I have done and will do. So long as they are safe, I will be satisfied with their decision.
I have forged them into monsters so that they may slaughter the monsters which would do the same unto them. I love my children, and I weep for them, but I will not stop. I cannot, for the tombs of my sisters are silent. | "The situation on Earth is worse than we expected," Bardan exhaled, his eyes fixed on his feet. As his lifted his gaze to face his superior, he scratched a thick, orange-stained claw at his scaled, yellow forehead. "It is a rather horrifying conundrum."
With her back to Bardan, Ambassador Derriel stood facing the wall of her personal cabin. "Please submit your full report."
Bardan bent at the waist. "Three scout ships have been sent—none have returned. We do believe that one might have survived, but we cannot be sure."
As Derriel whipped around, her regal, body-length tunic flowed about her. "What do you mean you cannot be sure?" She squinted at Bardan.
"Jaina and her crew plunged their craft into the deepest section of what the human's call "The Pacific Ocean"—they were heading toward some anomaly." Bardan shook his head. "Our tracking instruments cannot seem to keep up with the demagnetization."
"Demagnetization?"
"Yes, your grace," he replied with a nod. "The anomaly itself is enough to disguise their movements. Add on the increased interference that occurs the closer they draw to the Earth's core, and they are all but invisible."
"I see." Derriel lowered herself to the couch and stared forward for a time. "You used the words 'horrifying conundrum'—tell me more about the humans."
"Well—" Bardan drew a deep breath. "It appears that the Earth itself is a sentient species. We have not yet determined whether or not she intended to create the humans, but we can at the very least assume that they evolved as a result of her decisions."
"Her?"
"Yes. With no—*hrm—*anatomical reproductive system to speak of, we cannot necessarily describe the planet's existence with any specific signifier; however, she is responsible for giving and sustaining life, and the humans call her 'Mother Earth" at times, 'Gaia' at other times."
Derriel's ridged brow raised with puzzlement. "That does not seem so horrifying."
"It is not Mother Earth herself who is dangerous—it is what she has created."
The ambassador leaned forward. "Go on."
"She has passed along her fear of outsiders to many of her children. The planet is split into seven land masses—six with inhabitable environments. Each of these land masses is further split into smaller iterations of civilization."
"So this planet has not yet learned full-world cooperation?"
"I'm afraid it's much deeper, my lady. Her people are myriad sizes, shapes, and hues. It is honestly quite beautiful to see the variance within this single species—but many of those on Earth do not see this beauty. Instead, they ridicule and persecute those who do not look like them."
"I think I see where you are going with this." Derriel pressed her back into the couch. "Mother Earth has exhibited her xenophobia by murdering our people—"
"And the humans murder each other."
Closing her eyes, Derriel ran both hands up her forehead and down the ribs on the back of her skull. "This is troubling indeed."
"There is more."
Derriel's eyes sprang open.
"At the current rate, the humans will exhaust Mother Earth's resources within 100 years."
"I cannot imagine she will take kindly to that."
Bardan shook his head. "Based on her forceful, unforgiving actions on us, we can infer that it is just a matter of time she fights back and attempts to destroy the humans."
Derriel propped her elbows on her knees and rubbed at her temples. "I find it difficult to determine who the true villain is here."
"Not all the humans have inherited Mother Earth's ire. Many of them are rather accepting—they fight for the rights of those who are persecuted."
"Then we cannot abandon them." Derriel sat upright and locked eyes with Bardan. "Can you get a message to Jaina?"
Bardan nodded. "It will be rudimentary, but we can try."
"Make it so. Tell them to maintain their location and monitor the situation."
"What will we do?"
"Nothing—for now." She stood and walked toward the small porthole beside her couch. Gazing out at the Earth, she muttered, "I sense there will come a time when we may need to step in to assist the humans."
Derriel nodded. "We will be back."
\-----
Thanks for reading! As always, feedback is appreciated.
Check out my sub for more of my stories! r/storiesbyclayton | 2020-11-23T10:36:41 | 2020-11-23T06:14:01 | 787 | 435 |
[WP] Humanity sends a generation ship to a nearby inhabitable planet, destined to arrive in 300 years. 50 years after, light speed travel is discovered. The planet is colonized 245 years before the generation ship arrives. | There was an announcement made to us that "the ship" would be arriving today.
A three hundred year journey with the intent of establishing a colony for us Humans. They were bringing all the supplies needed to create something new. We were looking forward to welcoming them so we could surprise them with how far we have come.
Everything about their mission had been documented and it was our bible. Every one of us needed to understand what they were bringing and how to help when it was time.
I was part of the welcoming committee. The ship was an autopilot program. We knew exactly where it was going to land and when.
The ship broke through our atmosphere at precisely when it was supposed to and as I had grown up understanding, it would take 45 seconds before it landed and another 2 minutes as the landings platforms opened and the bulkhead doors would open and we could great our long awaited guests.
We were already up the ramp after it was lowered as the doors of the ship began to open. The doors opened fully and we stared into a vacant hallway.
We were completely dumbfounded. Where was everyone. There should be around 7 thousand people on the ship by now.
The ship was silent. We walked into the ship and marveled at all the things that we had learned about from the photos of this ship. I couldn't wait to see the Forrest chamber at the center of the ship. A mile long box on all four sides of all kinds of plants and flora brought from earth to here to help.
We arrived at the Forrest chamber and found an empty box. A square mile of shiny metal nothingness. The sight was breathtaking and heartbreaking.
I felt my stomach churn and a hotness under my skin. I felt I may be sick. I wasn't.
We continued through the ship to what was t be the command deck. Again empty. Left in pristine condition.
All the screens were off and all the controls remained dormant. All except for one blinking green button on the control console.
I pushed the button and a single screen turned on behind us.
On screen the captain of the ship appeared and began to speak.
"My name is Miles Benjamin Gallo. I am captain of the Infinity and today is right around May 12th of our fiftieth year of our planned 300 year journey.
Yesterday at approximately 23:00 hours we were knocked off course by somethin passing us, a comet or something, it caused significant damage to the ship. We will be performing maintenance on the hole tomorrow and will be taking the ship off of its auto pilot status to correct the issue."
The video cut off and another screen in the room lit up with another video.
"My name is Claudette Marie Anderton. I am captain of the Infinity and today we mourn the death of Captain Gallo, we are now back on course with our autopilot but two days ago we had a major malfunction..."
The video cut off and then another screen turned on with yet another video log.
"My name is Adrian Patel I am captain of the Infinity there seems to be a problem with the..."
Again the transmission was cut short and again another screen.
"Hello." "My name is" "Good Morning I am.."
"Sarah Travers" "Richard Lambden" "Samuel Washington"
"Captain of the Infinity" "The Infinitys captain" "Infinity captain:"
The video logs of all the captains went on for over 12 hours. Each detailing some sort of issue with the ship and their attempts to resolve it and what collateral damage it took on the crew and the ship.
The data logs lasted for about ten years before there was nothing left.
And then it hit me, and no one else seemed to understand what happened. So I kept my mouth shut.
We exited the ship while the days light was fading and found an anxious crowd wondering where they were.
They are all dead. They never even made it a quarter of the way here before the ship was vacant and back on course. Almost 220 years of pure silence the Infinity traveled here.
We had a few days to gather information from the ship before I was to give a statement to my people.
I now had to figure out how to break it to everyone that when our forefathers developed faster than light travel we were so eager to get here that we must not have considered the Infinity was in the same course to this planet that they took. At light speed you seemingly phase through anything I your way.
They passed through the Infinity just to be the first ones here. | It had taken twelve years for the first human colonists to feel at home on Hestia, and the first children were born only one year after that. Those children were the first settlers on a grand frontier, the limits of which were enough as to be non-existent. One hundred years later after the birth of the first generation of Hestian-born humans, the human species had colonized dozens of planets across their little part of the galaxy. Two hundred and forty-five years later, their technologies had seen huge advancements. Half the galaxy had been mapped, much of it by autonomous probes that leaped from star to nebula to black hole on fingers of light. The common citizen could scarcely remember when spaceflight was a danger, and the idea of interstellar travel that took years, or even decades, was a story that their great-great grandparents had long since ceased to tell.
Fifty-five years before the first humans arrived on Hestia, and fifty years before the creation of faster than light travel, the generation ship *Dawn Light* was sent from earth carrying two hundred of the finest men and women, none of whom would ever see their destination. It would take the *Dawn* three hundred years to arrive.
Galactic officials had been told the exact time and place that the *Dawn Light* would be entering the Hestian solar system. They watched through their telescopes and sent their probes to fly, undetected, at the side of the huge, asteroid-scarred generation ship. They watched as the ship began it's braking maneuvers, slowing from two percent of the speed of light to a speed that would allow for the entry into orbit. In cities across the planet, crowds gathered, turning their eyes upward toward the night sky. On viewscreens across the galaxy a trillion people watched as the behemoth starship became visible as a bright point of light. They watched then as the missiles, smaller pinpricks in the dark, leaped across the void and sent flames washing over and through the vessel's hull. Gasps arose from the crowd as burning points of light flew across the sky and the metal skin of the *Dawn Light* split, spilling it's guts out into vacuum.
People on the planet's surface covered their eyes as several of the ship's nuclear warheads detonated above the atmosphere, throwing the faces of those watching into squinting, awestruck relief.
People turned away then, in ones and twos. Then in droves, returning to homes, or to businesses. In a few hours the first of days worth of debris would begin to streak the atmosphere with burning white lines. Two people walked in silence to a small roadside cafe, styled in the manner of classic mid twenty-first century, and ordered drinks. They they sat silently, each lost in their own thoughts, one leaning back on a three legged stool, the other resting comfortably against the counter, her three eyes wandering over cafe decor. Their drinks arrived, one in a tall thin glass, another in an earthenware mug. She gripped the mug in a scaly hand.
"To two-hundred and forty-five years of peace," She said. He picked up his glass. "Yeah," He said, raising his drink, "To peace."
*Clink.* | 2016-08-14T19:50:10 | 2016-08-14T17:15:22 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] “…and that class is why Humans are considered the most peaceful species in the universe.” The only three humans in class looked at each other horrified. All the facts about humans that the aliens had were wrong. One student slowly raises their hand. | Kai sat in the large auditorium. The busy bustle and rustle of many students rushing to fill their seats before class began to fill the once vacant hall. This class was unusual. Normally students would simply log in to their schools virtual database to be present. A holographic display of the student would then appear in an unoccupied space.
But then again this was the first ever human studies class. For this reason holoprojection was deemed unsuitable as the course material was considered cutting edge knowledge, fresh and exciting. Only the best of each race were allowed to attend this lecture. Kai by default was chosen as the sole human on campus, for him the class was mandatory.
As the gelatinous ooze shimmied inside the lecture hall with thick gloopy plops and other nauseating sounds, the hall grew silent. The gelatinous ooze didnt speak, but rather projected its thoughts into the mind of the gathered students. A kind of unseen signal which could be rejected by any sentient race. Kai naturally accepted as he knew xenami were incapable of traditional communication.
A slimy twisted voice echoed in his ears "It is believed that humans first achieved interstellar travel around the year 4023 CE of their calendar." ...wrong Kai thought, it was much earlier than that. "Humanity as a species is one best suited to nurturing and mediating disputes" ...wrong again kai sighed internally. "It is believed that due to the fierce nature of the so called mother figures humans speak about, that they are instilled with a sense of cooperation and learn the correct way to navigate complex social interactions." Okay that one was true.
The voice continued in its weird slithery way "when first contact was made with the humans in the 3041679 year of the universal calendar, the Zerm who had first contact were welcomed with banquets and entertainment unseen and unheard of in the rest of the known galaxy. A traditional which has been held to this day, everytime the humans are introduced to a new species." Kai laughed inwardly, thats because we know how gulliable you all are to being buttered up.
"With these previous examples in mind, humanity can be said to be perhaps the most peaceful and accepting of all the known universal specie, despite being a recent addition." Kai was agahst, his face turning paler by the second. No wonder the other races look upon us favorably. They didnt know the truth of humanities history. Nor of the long wars to extinction fought with the ones calling themselves the galaxy federation.
The truth was as clear as day. Humans didnt invent interstellar travel in 4023CE. It was technology forcibly acquired from downing enemy spaceships after the invasion by the federation in 3071. A long bloody war of resistance that united the fractured united nations into what is now know as the human league. During which we reversed engineered all the tech of the invaders, used it to find their home worlds and subsequently slaughtered them down to the last child. Of course no one could record it, because there was no one left and the humans wouldnt openly admit to the genocide of countless galaxies. The part of the universe the Federation once inhabited is still considered uncharted territory.
His hands gripping the platform in front of him tight, his eyes dialated and sweat pouring down his body, Kai struggled to remain conscious through the horrific revelation. A moist sounding tone echoing in his head "Human Kai of Keplar 452, do you need a medical emergency? Your biological scanner shows signs of great distress."
Finally reorienting his rapid thoughts, Kai simply broke an uneasy smile "No Professor Xeani, I think Im okay now, thank you for your concern". The professor nodded or at least gave what could be construed as a nod, if a gelatinous mass of wriggling tentacles tiliting over could be construed that way.
I need to get out of this class somehow! Acting coy is too much for me... but the commander wont like that very much, Kai thought with a frown. I should come up with a plan. | Nick leaned back in his chair, zoning out of the class. Maybe he should pay attention, but they're literally covering homo sapiens, so at best they'll just be regurgitating the lessons he learnt back on Earth. With the recent introduction of Humans to the Forum, some families live away from the Sol System, causing a need for the children to go to the Forum's classes. Luckily, they have a universal translator, otherwise this would be much more unpleasant.
Suddenly he feels a slight poke at the back of his head, prompting to turn his head slightly. Jesse, his closest friend, sits behind him, fervently pointing at the board, prompting him to pay attention to the teacher. Professor Cerinkwes looked a bit odd, being vaguely humanoid, with vaguely translucent pink skin and appendages that somewhat resembled collapsible staffs, being able to extend at a moment's notice.
"As some of you may know, humans have never had violence on the galatic level, while most other alien species have one old enemy or another inside the Forum. In addition, an analysis of Human classic novels suggest a deep disgust with the concepts of violence. Between the two, and a few other reasons that I do not have time to cover, led us to believe Humans are the most peaceful, sentient species in the universe," the professor states in a tone allowing for no argument.
Nick had some clear counterexamples come to his mind, and while he saw the surety of the professor, he slowly raised his hand. Emilia, the last human in the class, leaned over her desk and grabbed his hand and brought it back down before it caught the teacher's attention. She leaned in, whispering, "I'll explain later", before sitting back down. Puzzled, he decided to wait until after class.
"So what was that about, Emmy?"
"Based off galactic standards, humans are slightly more violent than the average species. This isn't exactly anything drastic, but being on the wrong side of the mean means that it will affect Human integration of the Forum, such as what species interact with it and what we will do.
Maybe it'll come out eventually, but we can show by then that we intend to be peaceful as time goes on. Otherwise, we'll be pigeonholed with war species, until we're forced to resort to it to stay afloat. This would then be used to prove that we were always a violent species and couldn't change our ways. There's no reason to try to tell the class, 'Hey, we're violent murderers, but you can trust us'"
(I'm not a writer, but I couldn't see how any human would think it's a good idea to suggest that they're violent murderers, so I wanted to write a response on that.) | 2022-10-17T07:12:12 | 2022-10-17T04:54:00 | 117 | 84 |
[WP] You are on the first manned mission to the surface of Mars. One of your numerous objectives is to find and recover Opportunity, the lost rover. Upon finding it however, a memorial and a message is etched in stone next to it, “To the one who gave me company, Rest Well, Old Friend.” | The crew of Ares VI moved with purpose, wading through the Martian terrain, reading their tablets and maps of Mars to make sure they were in the right spot. They were a special crew, united by a single purpose. The only reason any of them ever became astronauts.
Opportunity.
They were in high school, college, or fresh graduates when they first heard the news. NASA had officially declared Opportunity non-responsive. They grew up excitedly consuming science fiction, reading all about space, because of that little machine. The symbol of humanity's great hope of one day being able to literally reach out touch the stars.
They knew the risks, of course - all of them had watched the Martian. They even joked that they wouldn't eat the potatoes in case something happened like in the book. They were careful setting up their base of operations, and they couldn't wait when they got the clearance to move out on their first expedition - a minor objective, in the grand scheme of things, but the most important one to every member of the team.
*Retrieve Opportunity*
"Let's look inside here." Morrison chimed in through the radio, shining his torch in the direction of a small cave. They carefully entered it, and the glint of metal sparked hope in every last member of the Ares team.
Opportunity was there, laid out on top of a small rock outcropping. Morrison's brow furrowed as something felt off. "Wait a minute," he spoke up, being the first in the cave and setting eyes on the rover. "There's no ramp or anything. Opportunity couldn't have rolled up here."
"What?" Reyes piped up, moving around him to examine the room. "Fuck, you're right. What do you think this means?"
"I think it means someone - *something* - put it there." Oxton tapped her commander's bicep, her torch aimed at something on the cave wall.
"To the one who gave me company. Rest Well, Old Friend."
"What the *fuck*?" Reyes summed up their collective thoughts quite succinctly.
A noise deeper in the cave caused all of them to jump. They all aimed their lights further down. They'd all binged a bunch of space-related movies on their journey here. They'd all watched *Alien*. "I say we get the hell out of here." Oxton nervously suggested, taking a step back.
Something was moved behind them, and all three turned around and shined their lights at it. As the figure stepped into the light, they made out more and more of its features. Humanoid, green, metallic... *armor*, Morrison realized, as their lights finally gave them a good look at their guest.
"Did you do this?" Reyes asked, still having some sense to try and make contact. The figure simply nodded, before turning to his side and bending down to flip a tarp over, kicking the sand off it to reveal a hidden crate of... weapons?
An unearthly roar echoed out from deep within the caves, and the darkness gave way to a bright, orange glow. The sensors on the crew's suits began reading temperature spikes and increased concentration of sulfur. The green-armoured figure simply hoisted a giant gun up in his arms, gently nudging the stunned astronauts aside as he cocked his weapon, aimed into the cave, and fired as the first demon pounced out. | The chamber depressurised, the steel airlock opened and I saw the dusty base of the crater we had landed in. The weight of my next steps sent jolts up my spine. "Commander, we are here." I had grown accustomed to hearing my voice in this spacesuit. "Mission priority: Unload the cargo.", said commander Howard Steele. All business. The cargo was unloaded, and we began setting up the Martian Habitat. A storm was fast approaching and all we could do was dig into the ground, place the supplies in a hole, cover it and get back in our ship.
It was soon night on Mars. The storm raged on but we held fast. By next morning, it had crossed past us. "Time to get back to work. " There were six of us: Two scientists, two Engineers and two soldiers. We were the first humans on Mars, that is, until we found something odd when we woke up. The storm had carried in some debris from prior missions, we were thankful it did not strike our ship. We got back down from the ship, first order of business, set up camp for the night. The habitat was not an easy thing to do. We set up the struts about half a kilometre from our ship after we had dug more ground. It took five hours until we were finished.
It was midday and we had to get our meals. They had to be taken at set intervals. Over lunch, we talked about the debris and decided to check it out. Extra Solar panels would be nice. We took up our construction supplies and rode our XAV in the direction of the debris. It looked like an old rover, with its wheels under the sand, stuck, the panels were visible, we pulled it out by tying it to the XAV. The panels were intact. "Useable," I remarked.
It was then that I noticed something had been carved along its body.
...
Will get back to it. Just wanted to write something and this is all I had in me. | 2019-02-20T02:39:19 | 2019-02-19T23:27:27 | 34 | 11 |
[WP] You are a D Class superhero with the power to create weak gusts of wind. Despite this you always get dragged along on missions with A Class heroes to make them look cool by billowing their capes. This is the story of how you proved yourself and became reclassified as an S Class hero. | From her understanding, air pressure was regulated by temperature. Or at the very least, air density certainly was. And, somehow, as the hot air lost density it would move. So then, she imagined like a vacuum, the surrounding cold air would rush to fill the gap.
It was the most basic description of her powers that they had ever given her, and she still didn't quite understand it. She only fully understood that whenever she focused enough on a spot, a light gust of wind would arrive soon after. It was cool, or so she was told on the regular by heroes with fame and capes and cereal boxes. Didn't look that cool from where she was standing. But then again, the cameras were hogging all the good angles. Or at least, that's what she would have called them before today.
Today, all angles had been bad, except for her angle. It had looked like any other day at first, bad guy threatening the world, good guys with huge biceps standing up to him. The usual. And as *per* usual, she had been there to make them look good. Pays the bills and all that. However, this time something had gone wrong. With the risk of sounding overdramatic one might even say *horribly* wrong.
Before she even knew what had happened, she found herself under a piece of rubble. She was bruised, confused, and, she suspected, at least lightly concussed. But more than that, she was disturbed at the hot and wet sensation across her suit. Blood. She panicked for a moment before the realization struck her that it wasn't hers.
Around her, tossed like ragdolls, hundreds of bodies lay stationary. Pools of deep, dark crimson spraying the surroundings in a horrific pantomime of abstract paintings. Heroes, reporters, bystanders, the slaughter was free of discrimination. And, slowly rolling across the devastation like a soft breeze across the plains, came instead a dry fit of laughter.
He hadn't seen her yet, too busy basking in his own destruction to bother even glancing her way. But he would, and she knew that when he did, she would be dead. And more than anything else in that moment, she wanted to live. But she wouldn't, not this time. Not when the greatest heroes she had ever seen were cracked open like coconuts on the pavement. She was the only one left.
So in one last desperate act of defiance, she did what she had always done. She focused. But this time, she focused fully on him, not the air in front of him. And she watched him slowly turn around to face her, a fiendish grin spreading across his face as he lifted his hand--
--and began to scream. Grasping his chest he fell down on his knees as his lungs were burning up without a fire, scalded from the inside and cutting his horrific yell short. Scalding hot steam exited through his orifices, burning out his eyes from their sockets. With his last nightmarish motion, the scalded husk of a man reached out one hand in desperation toward her, before collapsing onto the ground.
She was shaking, her eyes tearing up as the scent reached her nostrils and she tried her hardest not to retch. She failed. She had killed him, but more than that she had watched him die. But the most oppressive thought was one that stuck with her even as the paramedics pulled her out of the pool of blood and vomit. One that persisted even as a medal was hung around her neck to the sound of uproarious applause. Ultimately, no matter how many people had died that day, she was glad to be alive. | So, Zephyr. What's it like being a fucking idiot?
I only ask because I'm curious. I'm curious as to why you chose to adopt your apparent secret identity as basically a moron with a hairdryer.
Maybe that could be your new name? MegaMoron? Although personally, I like David's suggestion of Captain Cu-
I beg your pardon?
Oh, does it feel unfair? Am I hurting your feelings? Do you want to cry?
Well that makes two of us. You want to cry because I called you stupid, while I want to cry because fifteen of my close friends are dead and there are no heroes left. Plus, now all the struggling newspapers and hospitals and pizza places are going to have to find new plucky alliterative employees.
Shall we cry together? Because those situations sound just as bad as each other. And after we've cried, you can create a warm breeze to dry our tears away, because apparently you'd rather do that than literally anything useful, ever.
I can't believe you've been a superhero for four years, and you've only just mentioned that you have a power that isn't shit. Four years.
Four years in which it would have been really useful to know you could manipulate matter on the molecular level. There have been loads of times when I've found myself thinking "we'd be okay if we had someone who could manipulate matter on the molecular level." Generally, I've been crouched behind a failing barricade at the time, or being shot at by the nanoSwarm.
The most recent time, I've just remembered, was approximately four hours ago, when all of my friends died because the person with almost total power over reality never sat down and thought about the implications of his abilities.
See, if you had done that at any point in the last four years, this conversation would be going very differently. I wouldn't be talking to the worst hero ever about everyone being dead, I'd be talking to Basically-A-God Man, saviour of the world, about how great he was.
What sort of drooling incompetent uses unlimited power over all matter to slightly move air currents? How does it not occur to you to disable the villain's arms, or stop the explosion from starting, or just heal injuries? You could have done anything, and you chose to act like a twat.
I fucking hate you. | 2018-05-12T07:52:26 | 2018-05-12T07:04:57 | 247 | 121 |
[WP] You deliver meals to elderly shut-ins. One of your clients is convinced you are Death, and you play along, letting them "outsmart" you every day. Today, however, they're dressed in their Sunday finest, saying, "I'm ready." | "I'm ready."
Two words, so simple. And in saying them, Abe was about to realize something dreadful: I wasn't Death. I can, considering he supposedly had some mild dementia, sort of see why he might think that. I wore a lot of black, for starters. It wasn't for any thematic reason. It was just that food stains happened to show up less, in general, on black. Especially since most of my deliveries involved soup. I was also told to "dress casually, like I'm going about town" by my boss. She personally never said a word about my wardrobe, a myriad of band shirts collected through high school, and it featured its fair share of skulls, skeletons, devils, and so on. In the eyes of most clients, you could see that gleam of disapproval. Abe had laughed, told me Death must've employed his son. He also emphasized I should give everyone hell if they didn't like it. He knew what it was like to be young.
All that made this that much harder. I looked him over, ran my mind through all the little routines. "Alright Abe." I answered, trying to come up with some way out of it. My eyes roved around the room, hesitating over the photos of neon hell. Right, Abe used to hang out in Vegas. He had regaled me with tales of how he cheated the casinos to show the Rat Pack and mob bosses what to look for. Abe was very, very good at cheating at cards, and age hadn't robbed his dexterity. I figured if I had any way out of it, it would be with our game of cards. He was a card shark, he always dealt me a decisively good hand as the dealer. It was almost always something ridiculous and implausible; royal flush, a straight with Ace high. In one hand I even had five Aces. Abe always showed first, "in good faith" and he'd generally have something low, like four twos or the like. I figured it was his way of outsmarting me, to see what I would do. I always cheated back, because Abe was notorious for never specifying his Ace value. I know we both assumed it went both ways, but I'd always come back "Oh, I just have four ones" or "Drat, and so close to a straight, too." He'd give me a hellraiser smile, and invite me back next week.
Back to the motions, Abe was standing. We hadn't even played cards yet.
"Oh no, Abe. There's rules. I can't just take you." I said, making up an excuse. "Always a game, and your game is cards. I win, you come with me. The higher my hand, the more peaceful you'll go. Suit determines how. I'll shuffle this time, but you can still deal."
I watched the old man grin. It was disconcerting. "Alright then laddie." He broke out the well worn cards and handed them over. I shuffled. I shuffled for a long time, and Abe was patient as ever. When I passed them along, he dealt them back. It was fast. Always was. I still couldn't keep up with his fingers when he was dealing, and I tried.
"Alright boy, toss what ya want." He added in. I checked the hand, the whole thing utter garbage. I grimaced, betraying my poker face. Abe must have been ready, so his hand had to be stacked to the heavens.
"Put all five back for me, would you Abe?" I said with a grin, hoping it looked somewhat casual, all knowing. He put them on bottom, of this I was sure. I waited for his hand to move. "Ah, mind if I deal my own, this time, old friend?" That got a laugh out of him, but he let me take hold of the top card. His palm was flat. If he could cheat in that position, I'd be impressed.
I drew my five. Abe flipped his hand, showing up a straight flush in spades, King high. I still hadn't looked at my hand. No bets in money, no reason to bluff. I moved to show my hand, and he stopped me, his fingers on mine quicker than I could have thought he moved, even though I knew better. "Aces high, lad." I swallowed, feeling the panic, and nodded. My hand went over. Hearts. Royal Flush.
My mind raced. How could he have stacked the deck in such a way? Or was it just straight luck. His voice snapped me out of it. It sounded far away, and getting further. "Hah, looks like ya win, Boy-Death. I'll let ya get your things real quick and I'll be waiting right here for you. No walking out the door if I'm asleep now." Abe added. I nodded. I owed Abe the finish to this, whether he knew the truth or not. If he didn't, I'd owe him an explanation too. I got the rest of the affairs in order, tidied up a little bit. I didn't dally, not intentionally, but it did take a good fifteen minutes for me to be ready to go.
I went back to the chair. Abe had his eyes closed. I reached down and gently shook his shoulder. "Abe? We're leaving." Nothing. A few seconds, another light shake. Still nothing. Shaken, but not yet shaking, I reached down, hand over his heart. I waited a full minute, just in case, but Abe's heart had stopped, and he was most assuredly dead. | I wave goodbye to Carol as I open the door to my car. She always follows me halfway to the end of her lawn telling me different news items and tidbits about her children and grandchildren. She’s a sweet lady and I really wish I could stay just ten or twenty minutes longer and give her some more company but I have so many people to visit. I always feel bad like I’m trying to escape from her when all she wants is someone to talk to.
I turn the key and my engine sputters to life. I turn to Carol who is still watching me with a sad smile on her face. My heart breaks a little as she raises her hand and we wave for the fourth or fifth time. I start to drive forward as I don’t want to prolong this much longer.
This job is okay as far as jobs go. All my clients, I guess you could call them that, they are all great people and it feels good delivering food to them and chatting with them even if it’s for a small bit. Most times though I just wish I didn’t have to be in such a rush. Maybe I should come and visit Carol on one of my days off.
Next on my list is old man Wilkins. He used to be my neighbor when I was young. I used to mow his lawn and shovel his sidewalks for comic book and video game money.
I guess he had a really rough time after his wife Jeannie died because he sold his house and moved into his current tiny apartment. She was a real treasure, his Jeannie. She was hands down the nicest person I have ever met.
Maybe that was why it was so hard to bring him his food. It was really painful to think of losing a loved one, especially someone like Jeannie. But what also made it tough was that he kept calling me death and trying to hide from me each time. I literally have no idea where he got that from. He was kind of a goofy guy even before Jeannie died.
I stop my car outside his apartment complex and grab his meal box from the back seat. I walk up to his apartment door with his food under one arm while I use the other to knock. “Mr. Wilkins! It’s me, Bradley. I got steak and mashed potatoes for ya. I know that’s your favorite.”
“It’s unlocked”, yells Mr. Wilkins from somewhere inside his apartment.
I open the door to his apartment and almost drop the meal box when I see Mr. Wilkins standing beside his kitchen counter dressed in a dark grey suit as if he was going to a fancy party. He usually wore baggy sweat pants and a white shirt.
I say, “You’re dressed well. You don’t have to get all fancy for me.” I try lightening the mood. It usually worked with him but sometimes he would still try to run away calling me death and saying things like ‘you’re not getting me today!’
“It’s okay Bradley. I’m ready.” Mr. Wilkins says.
“Ready?” I ask.
“I’ve been mourning Jeannie’s death now for twenty-two years. It’s about time I moved on. I may be sixty but I still have a lot of life to live. I’m sorry I always called you death and caused you such a headache. Jeannie always thought of the neighborhood children as our children since she couldn’t have any herself.” A tear rolls down his cheek. “Seeing you these years always reminded me of her death and combine that with the drinking… I’m sorry.”
“Mr. Wilkins, it’s okay.” I walk over to him setting the food down and I put an arm on his shoulder.
“Thank you Bradley, you’re a good kid. I’m sure Jeannie would be proud of the man you turned into. But now I got to make her proud of me.” Mr. Wilkins shakes my hand and then walks to his front door. He picks up a suitcase that sat beside it and heads out.
I stand there in shocked silence watching him walk to his car, a red Oldsmobile. He looks back at me as he's opening his car door and gives me a wave. I waved back and watched him drive down the street and on with the second part of his life.
| 2017-08-31T17:24:26 | 2017-08-31T17:01:13 | 46 | 10 |
[WP] You were born into a society where permanent augmented reality contact lenses are fused onto every newborn's eyes. You're unaware of this until one day, a lens falls into your left hand. | The tree outside my window is dying. Soon it will match the others in our street, in our city. The bushes outside didn't flower this year. There weren't enough bees. Humanity has destroyed them.
Every year is the same. Plants die, pollution gets worse, crime rises, and another species disappears. We all do what we can but it isn't enough. The destruction has slowed but not fast enough to save those of us who remain on Earth.
They all took the first transport they could to Mars. In a panic they left behind family, pets, friends. It was every man for themselves. People murdered loved ones to get the last seats. They estimate that a third of the population remain. We were the ones that gave our spots to others. My transport, the last, left last night. Now I'm watching the trees die.
"Ms Cotter? Please look down, blink several times and shake your head."
No one argues with the government messages on their interface. I do as it said. I feel something on my face and shake harder. I reach up and pull something away. Shit! My augmentation has fallen out.
"Ms Cotter? Please look out the window."
I don't question the voice. The tree is dead. Wait. No. It is alive. The bushes are full of flowers. There are bees everywhere.
"What the fuck?" I cry out.
"Welcome to reality. We apologise for the deception. The experiment was intended to make people take part in world changing behaviour. To fix it. Unfortunately most preferred to run."
| There is an episode of Black Mirror that has a similar premise. I tried to find a way to describe it, but 1, I haven't watched it in a long time, and 2, I am not a good writer. So just watch Black Mirror Season 3 Episode 5 "Men Against Fire" | 2017-12-17T19:00:21 | 2017-12-17T18:50:57 | 3,613 | 22 |
[WP] You finally came up with a plan to get rid of the hero. You would go undercover and fall in love with his civilian identity before breaking his heart and killing him at his emotional lowest. A couple months later, you have experienced a complication in your plans. You’re pregnant.
Change around genders, POV, etc to suit your story. | His eyes began to water as he looked at the black and white swirl on the monitor.
"Would you like to know the sex of the baby?" asked the obstetrician.
"We would." replied Robert. I simply smiled and nodded.
"It looks like you'll be having a girl."
Rob was speechless for the rest of the examination. After taking a small sample the medical and paternity results came back in 30 minutes with no surprises. The wonders of modern technology. Rob finally found his words once we stepped out into the parking lot.
"A daughter, we'll be having a daughter!"
"Yes it sounds wonderful darling, what do you think we should name her?"
I knew exactly what he would say, but I wanted the words to come out of his mouth.
"If it's okay with you," he paused, getting emotional again, "I'd like to name her after my aunt Evelyn"
"Of course dear, that sounds lovely." I replied "I'm sure if she were still with us, she'd be honored"
As he dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief I reached out the touch him. He gasped as I placed my hand on his shoulder... and he shoved my arm to the side as I released a beam of red energy, turning the van beside us to shrapnel. Of course; I knew this wasn't going to be easy.
"What are you doing?" he growled, eyes were wide with confusion and surprise.
"Taking every advantage I can." I raised my other hand and fired another crimson energy beam, only managing to hit the brick wall surrounding the car park, as he deftly released me and rolled away, ducking behind an SUV. I myself moved as fast as a pregnant lady could to hide behind a small hatchback. I probably wouldn't need the cover but I wasn't going to be a victim of hubris.
"Who are you!?" He called out with a mixture of confusion and anger from behind the car "Why are you doing this?"
"I'm the future mother of you're daughter and I'm not going to explain my plan to you" In fact I would not have even said anything after my first shot if I didn't need to buy time to recharge. I reached over the bonnet and fired off another beam obliterating the SUV. When I took a chance to peak around, he was no where to be seen.
"No...It can't be". I turned to the voice on my left and saw him standing on the roof of a green sedan. When the realization reach his eyes he instinctively dropped into Blue Screen's signature offensive battle stance. "Red Handed!"
"Took you long enough" I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I already lost sight of the target once and I was lucky not to have been reduced to nothingness. "It looks like super reflexes doesn't equate to being super astute."
"But the last year-"
"All a ruse. All except for the pregnancy that is." I replied, firing another shot at where he was standing. He jumped out of the way, as my beam left a small smoking crater in the ground.
"But... our child."
"You expect becoming a mother would stop me from achieving my goals?" I decided to engage in a few extra seconds of banter instead of taking another shot. I needed a chance to catch my breath. "It's the twenty third century; try to be more progressive."
"Please stop this Jenifer, we can stop, and just live happily together. We can forget the past. I'll talk to The Guild and-" I fired two half powered laser consecutively, one where he was standing and one where I expected him to jump. But he had already raised a shield of blue energy in anticipation, deflecting my second beam it into the sky.
"Please think of our daughter." he pleaded with me.
"I have. Our daughter will grow up in a life of comfort and luxury. A princess and maybe one day a queen in the new world order... If she wants to be, I won't force my life choices onto her like my parents tried to do with me." I replied, before taking another moment to choose my next words deliberately, "Our daughter will be free to do whatever makes her happy. And unless you decide to obliterate me before she is born, Evelyn *will* be happy."
That line caught him off guard. The next beam incinerated his foot as he jumped into the air, causing him to crumple to the floor upon landing.
"So this is why you decided to keep her?" he asked with deep pain in his voice as he pushed himself up. "to use our unborn child as leverage?"
"What can I say? I'm a villain." I replied, "Or at least I am in your story. Though I *have* always wanted to be a mother."
The explosions would have alerted The Guild and I had to end this soon. His injury alone still wouldn't have been enough for me to defeat him though. Blue Screen's primary power was the turning point of every rebellion in the last decade; Shut down. The power to cause someone to cease being with a gesture. No middle ground, no dimmer switch. And if it weren't for my tiny hostage, he would have already deleted me from existence. But now, injured as he was, I knew he couldn't run away. His shield wouldn't outlast a full powered continuous assault from my beam. He would have to make a choice.
"This is it Blue Screen," I charged one last attack and stared directly at the red glint reflected off the betrayal in his eyes. "Kill us or die." | "I'm sorry, you must have the wrong number." I take a second to hold the phone away from my face to verify the number. Sure enough it was my doctor's office
"Uh, no, Can you confirm your date of birth?" The obviously confused nurse replies, as the sound of shuffling papers occurs, obviously double checking the chart. I provide my name and date of birth again to confirm.
"Yeah, that's what I thought, You're pregnant." The Nurse replies, seeming reassured that he had called the correct patient. "We're sending you some paperwork and a referral to an OB, and-"
"Wait-" I manage to stammer, feeling the color draining from my face "that's not...its...it can't be, that's not possible!" I argue, my mind racing. It wasn't possible, was it? "I mean...I just came in for routine bloodwork-" I try and ration to the poor man. It wasn't his fault honestly, he was just doing his job, I am being very difficult about this. But then again "Also, I'm a man?!"
I could almost hear the nurse shrug "The results don't lie, we ran the test twice. Congratulations, Mr. Teagan."
I hang up the phone, staring at the white light coming from my screen in absolute shock. How had this happened? I mean, we only had sex one time, after a home cooked meal and he had insisted on showing me "Dirty Dancing". Apparently it's a crime against humanity to not have seen it, you know, compared to trying to wipe out the population of a seaside city with an illegally built space laser. Honestly... that still doesn't answer my questions though, I'm a man, I'm not built for pregnancy. I didn't bother studying medicine, but I don't need an MD to figure that much out.
"Damn you, Patrick Swayze." I mutter under rmy breath, as if he was truly to blame for my predicament. "Just calm down Tuck, this is just a bug, every well made plan has little bugs like this...just...think..." I urge my thoughts to shift into gear from "neutral" shock, to "first gear" acceptance, so I can shift into solving this. First step...should I call him? It's possible he may have answers, and it's his child anyways, he has a right to know, right? I'd want to know. Wait- that's stupid, I'm trying to kill him, I just need to know how to do that without carrying his spawn into the world. We'll put first step on the back burner for a moment. Second step, cancel dinner plans with my wife tonight, I will probably need to stay at the lab while I re-evaluate and- oh...oh my god...my wife...
I stop, mid pace, my eyes going wide as realization sets in and my stomach simultaneously flips and twists into knots, like some kind of Olympic gymanastic boy scouts. What the hell am I going to tell my wife? Sure she knew about my alter Ego, and my dreams to destroy the Beacon and rule the world, but what am I supposed to tell her. "Hi honey, how was your day at work? I've been secretly dating my arch nemesis and now I'm pregnant!" Saying it out loud wasn't helping.
That's when the shattering of glass alerted me to another presence in the room. I turned around defensively, readying myself for trouble when I saw him. The, albeit short, hero stood, in complete and utter shock, a key in one hand and flowers in the other. I forgot I gave him a key to this apartment. I also forgot we had plans today. He stares at me, like a gazelle who just realized his gazelle friend is actually a pregnant male lion. You know what, that analogy doesn't track.
The air is tense, his green eyes fixed on me intently. Not the same eyes that gazed across the dinner table affectionately, but the determined expression when he was plotting how to defeat me while also saving the reporter and also stopping the bomb set to go off a mile away. His mind is probably racing as fast as mine is. I clear my throat, and raise my hands a bit, in a peaceful gesture indicating I have no ill intent.
"Daniel, I can explain..." | 2021-02-05T14:30:26 | 2021-02-05T14:07:57 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] your car changes slightly to accommodate your day, the day it snows, it magically has snow tires, the day it floods, it becomes a four by four. Today you walked out the door, and it's a tank.
Edit: wow, this really blew up, thank you all for your stories, and I will try to read all of them as soon as I have some time. | Steel fury is three meters deep and six wide, with a long nose that demands blood. She changes to suit the occasion --a snow mobile on white days, no top when the suns out, and in-car heating when it's cold. Today we play a Pinocchio game, I lie that I'm brave enough and hop inside the tank. The shiver of metal as the hatchet closes is enough to set any man's blood cold. I wade through fear made mud, a substance the eye can't see, and then press shaky hands to the controls.
"Good morning Joseph, please name the coordinates to your location," her soothing robotic voice asks.
Coordinates. Coordinates. There's a reason I failed fifth grade social science and didn't take it back up in college. On one hand, I didn't give two hoots about whether latitude or longitude took you up or upside down, and by the time I was old enough google maps had come out. "Can't I just strap you to my MyPhone?" I asked the Tank.
"Of course," the tank said, "however, you may want to strap yourself to some Kevlar then, Gps's are often filled with surprises."
A condescending tank, how fortunate. I googled the coordinates and tapped those babies in before sitting back and watching auto-drive. The tank drew glances as we rolled down street, like I had a certain importance, a power beyond the normal man. People pointed, some even snapped photographs when we stopped at the city lights, and it wasn't long before I pitched up in my office complex lot.
A good morning indeed.
I hopped out and straightened my work suit in the luke warm breeze. It was a great start to a day that could have gone awry. I'd be known as that 'cool guy' around town, at least for a while.
"A x-2 50b," Darren, a work colleague, said as he stalked over with briefcase in hand, "that's old school even for you, Joseph."
I suddenly wished I could get back in and give the long nose the blood it demanded.
"I'll have you know I was the talk of the town today," I said, "a classic morph car like this is what gets you the looks."
Darren chuckled and swiped the air in front, bringing up his Myphone hologram. "You're a funny guy, that's for sure." He pushed the hologram toward me.
The headline: *man drives tank with Hitler puppy boxer-briefs as flag,* scrolled past.
I glanced back and sure enough my nylons were blowing in the wind.
"It's why I picked the helicopter option." Darren pointed at the chopper in a parking space. He walked toward the office door. "Should be a good morning."
I knew something was off. I sighed and followed inside, preparing to take whatever vitriol came my way.
| It had been a busy morning. I had stayed up late to finish a report that was due today, and I was hoping against hope my client would find it to be sufficient. I slept through my alarm, I hurried through my morning routine, and barely even had time to check the news and weather, like I did every morning.
I swallowed the last little bit of coffee, then carefully put my mug down. I didn't want to break my favorite mug all because I accidentally overslept. I grabbed my phone, wallet, and charger, shoved my computer into my briefcase, ran to the printer and grabbed my report, and had my hand on the doorknob that led to my garage when I realized something.
"Great." I thought to myself. "I lost my keys."
I went back to the spot I always put them, and realized that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't actually need the keys. This had happened before, the day that there was flooding in my neighborhood and my car turned into a Jet-ski. I rushed over to the garage, flung open the door, and, to my surprise, there was a tank sitting where my Toyota pickup should have been. I blinked a few times, then slammed the door shut and opened up my laptop.
As soon as I opened CNN, I saw the problem. War. It was always some kind of war. Syria had finally had it with the United States, and declared war on us. As I continued to read down, however, something caught my eye.
In order to have enough troops for the war, the USA had reinstated the draft.
Well, at least I'll have a tank. | 2016-12-06T10:07:09 | 2016-12-06T09:17:30 | 42 | 22 |
[WP]You're a famous artist, tasked with the mission of going back in time to mentor Hitler and improve his art, so that he never goes into politics. | "Again, Adolf, and not so lifelike this time," I said, examining the cityscape he had started on the canvas. "Don't paint what you see, paint the bare bones of what you see, and then how it makes you feel."
"But das ist... ist... antithesis," Adolf protested.
"Exactly. Every other applicant to the academy will be painting lifelike portraits. What you must do is zig where they zag." Truth be told, his paintings were really coming along. Not a Monet or a Manet or a Modigliani, but certainly talented enough to catch the eye of the examiners at the academy.
Adolf got a new canvas, and started again. Within minutes, the outlines of a Vienna streetscape began to emerge from the canvas, but... different. Finally, an image influenced by reality, but not wholly of it took shape. Colors and textures blended, and when he had finished, a painting that seemed worthy of a place in a museum sat on the canvas.
"Fantastic, Mr. Hitler," I said. "This will certainly gain your acceptance into the academy. I have taught you all I can teach you."
"Danke mein herr", said Hitler.
I walked away into a crowded street, and pushed the recall button on my teleportation device. There was a flash of bright light and... what the heck? Nazi Germany is a thing in 2112?
It couldn't be. What did I do?
I wandered the streets of New York, which I soon learned was called Neues Goebbels in this time period. As I passed the building I remembered as the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I was greeted by a giant banner advertising a show of the paintings of German Impressionist Master Adolf Hitler. In the center, the painting of Vienna that he had made under my tutelage was shown prominently.
I went into the museum, and walked up to a worker at the front desk.
"Pardon me, but who founded the Third Reich?"
The front desk attendant, a blond girl of no more then twenty, began, "His name was Horst Muhlenberg, and he began life as a failed composer..." | Adolf was feeling anxious. He rhythmically tapped his finger on the desk all while looking around at his classmates' expressions. For some strange reason his rejection was nullified days before classes start, and here he was. It was miraculous and felt as destiny, however whatever would happen next he could not predict and all he could do was wait.
Apparently, a completely new arts professor had just arrived from America. He was said to be an eccentric artiste but who nonetheless possessed a gift. How fortunate that Hitler would arrive at this man's first year of teaching.
Suddenly the doors were pushed open as if they were by a storm. A lean man in a superb black velvet jacket covering a ripped beige sweater walked with confidence to the blackboard and began writing. He then turned back in a spin to face his students with his arms wide open and let the students look at his written name.
"I go by Yeezy, but you will call me Kanye West." | 2015-12-11T10:52:24 | 2015-12-11T10:29:11 | 76 | 10 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | “I have summoned and bound you, demon! You will listen and obey.”
“Uh, sure. Whatever you say, boss.” Michael tried to make out some features of whatever was talking but it was obscured by a dark, heavy robe complete with a hood. “I do whatcha ask and then you send me back. You’ll send me home, right?”
“I am the master here! I will say when you go.”
“Well that’s not fair. Not fair at all. I was just sitting, drinking a beer after work and poof. I’m here. I didn’t know I could even poof. And hell, you didn’t even poof my beer. I would appreciate a beer after being poofed.”
“You will spoke when spoken to!”
“Ah, to hell with this.” Michael took a step but hit something that felt like cling wrap pulled off leftovers heated in a microwave. It was uncomfortably warm but not hot enough to burn.
“My wards bind you! I am the master here. I am your master.”
“I said, to hell with this!” He dropped his shoulder, braced and pushed forward. The cling wrap stuck to him but it snapped in a moment. He grabbed the robed figure by the collar and picked it up, a little shocked by how light it was.
“The wards. The books said they’d work. The wards, they can’t be broken. The wards...”
“Knock it off,” Michael roared. He pulled its hood down. “Well, you ain’t nothing but I child. I mean, you an ugly child, but just a child.”
“I am no such thing. I am Olassin, head of House Olazuim, the third of his name. I have ruled for two decades and brought my house fortune and fame.”
“Forturne and fame huh?” Michael sniggered. “You think I’m a demon. And moreso, you meant to bring me here. Folks doing well don’t need to seek out demons.”
Olassin shuffled its feet. It opened its mouth and then closed it again, dropping its gaze to the floor.
“That’s what I thought.” Michael put the little child-man down and asked, “You can poof me back here any time, right?”
Olassin nodded.
Michael let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “I’m going to fix your problem, whatever it is, and in return, you send me home and never poof me again. Agreed?”
Olassin nodded, a grin suddenly on its face.
“But first, you gonna poof my beer for me. I’m gonna need it to get through this crap.”
edit: typo | "Where am I?"
This was Emmett's first thought upon appearing in a room only lit by candlelight. He had previously been mowing his back yard, and his eyes had not adjusted to the dimness. His second thought quickly followed his first.
"I've got to puke." He vomited, extinguishing two of the five candles surrounding him. He heard an exclamation, not of anger but possibly surprise come from behind him. Wiping his mouth on his arm he turned around.
"Hail, uh demon. I have summoned you here to exact revenge on my enemies." The man was wrapped in beige cloth, he held a knarled stick in one hand, a halved onion in the other.
Emmett threw up again. He hated onions, but really his stomach was reeling from whatever summoning he had just gone through.
"Demon?" Emmett said, hands on his knees. "Do I look like a demon to you?"
The onion halver looked puzzled. He looked down at his onion, then back at Emmett.
"My incantations were made to call forth a fiery demon, one who cuts down uncountable lives and wields a poisonous burn!"
Emmett sighed. He ran his fingers through his red hair.
"Look dude, I was trying to mow my lawn and spray a little weed killer. I'm not a demon that can 'destroy your enemies'."
"But what of your red skin?"
"Oh shit, I forgot sunscreen." | 2017-05-12T08:18:29 | 2017-05-12T08:05:29 | 617 | 21 |
[WP]You are a Demon hiding amongst humans. 2 Problems, young children and dogs can perceive your original form, And Your girlfriend is starting to notice them noticing. | **Edited** 10:55: Couple words. Removed a sentence. Added a bit more because I felt one line was coming off as me preaching.
*Story*
The end of my happy relationship was about to come. This wonderful woman I met, Jennifer, was finally ready for me to meet her son.
I'm not a child hater, you see, I love children. It's the fact that I used to be a very, very bad boy. So bad, in fact, that my previous go around on earth ended with me getting some one on one time with the Lord of Darkness himself, Satan.
Satan told me he was a big fan of my work on earth. He was a big fan of how I murdered those 14 women. How much he loved how I drowned that one kid that number 7 was babysitting.
But I wasn't proud of myself. In fact, I didn't feel much of anything on earth besides a burning hatred for everything. My childhood was unpleasant. From what my foster parents told me, I lost my virginity at age 3. But I don't want to bore you with that. After my mandatory 10 years of excruciating torture, which only made me hate more, Satan sent me to earth with the goal of causing as much destruction as I possibly could, with a specific focus on churches.
And I followed his absolute greatness of all that is dark, Lucifer, for many years.
But after being around people that seemed legitimately happy, and healthy, for 162 years, I began feeling something I had never felt before. Peace. I realized that everywhere I went people were smiling. People were always smiling, I was just never looking for it before. I began to think differently. When I bumped into someone, if they fell, I wouldn't laugh at them anymore. I wouldn't offer my hand, pull them up halfway, and then drop them again anymore. I didn't go out of my way to push kids into the street anymore.
Satan may be a powerful master in hell, but he has very little influence here on earth. All of the bad things that happen here are created by human beings. So in the rare instances a demon turns, or the much more common instance of dying (we are immortal NOT invincible), Satan could do very little to stop us, and after I exterminated 12 demons, he stopped wasting his energy on me.
As the years went on I began doing volunteer work in 3rd world countries, and in more recent years, I came back to America to help the place I wronged the most. It was here that I met Jennifer, and fell in love with Jennifer. Beautiful, sweet Jennifer. Here's the problem, most children can see my burned form. To them I look like something out of a zombie movie, and they were all terrified of me.
But I put it off too many times. Hell, maybe I'd get lucky and her son would be blind? Probably not.
Now here I was, outside the door of the love of my life, my heart (or the sensation of a heart) was pounding so loudly I couldn't hear anything else. I lifted my hand to knock when a little boy, roughly 5 years old, opened the door. He had a Gameboy (is that what they're called?) in his hands, he glanced up at me for a second, took in the sight (I winced at it, as if he shined a light in my eyes), and looked back down at his Gameboy, and yelled "Mom, some guy with a halo over his head is at the door."
| "Henry," Flora softly spoke to the boy huddled underneath the blankets. She noticed the bundle shivering. Heard soft whimpers. "Henry, honey, tell me what's wrong?" The boy didn't respond. "Henry, your auntie Flora wants to know so she can help you." Her sister, Grace, dropped off the child, a perfectly happy young boy, for the weekend. Now he rarely ventured out from the room let alone his bed.
"Mo-mo-mo," Henry stuttered.
"Mommy? Do you miss mommy?" Flora sighed in relief. A bowl of ice cream along with a trip to the movies should fix a bout of homesickness. "She'll be back in only two days! Hang out with cool auntie Flora until then!" Flora reached out to comfort the boy. As soon as she touched his shoulder, the little bundle jumped, shedding of the comfortable quilted blanket. Her brows rose in surprise when she saw Henry's face. Not homesickness. Fear.
"Mo-mo-monster. Monster in auntie's house," he whispered.
"Monster? Henry, what monster?" Flora needed to find out what happened before her boyfriend, James, returned from his shift at the hospital. Henry shook his head, backing away further into the corner of the small twin bed. "Henry, please tell me, you can trust auntie."
"No," he accused. "Can't trust auntie."
"Henry?" her voice laced with surprise. "Why can't you trust auntie?"
"You hug monster," his voice picked up slowly. "You smile with monster... You kiss monster." Now, Flora froze.
"Is James the monster?" she inquired. She loved the man, fell madly in love as soon as she glimpsed his blue eyes and he returned a dazzling white smile. All charm. She needed to know. "Did James do something bad to you?"
"No," he replied. "But he monster." He pulled his covers over his head, retreating into his sanctuary.
Flora retreated softly from the room. Confused. She heard the soft crunching of gravel as a car pulled up into the driveway.
*James is home*, she thought. *Maybe I can let him talk to Henry. See what's going on.* | 2017-04-02T13:06:47 | 2017-04-02T04:30:34 | 38 | 23 |
[WP] As a dragon of innumerable age you have guarded your gold horde for millennium. Many heroes have come with long speeches on how they will slay you, the great evil,none finish. However this one is odd.He throws a coin on your stash, looks you in the eyes and says "I have a proposition for you." | *Clink*. The sound of a single gold coin sliding caught my attention. A flick of my tail scattered hundreds more as I stretched, reaching for wakefulness. Diamond’s scraped against my underbelly but the same sensation I had enjoyed for eternity was beginning to seem less satisfactory. I had an itch, and it needed scratching. As the cacophony of my shifting horde died down I picked it out, the laboured breathing of my intruder. Short, punctured, laboured breaths cloyed the air.
**“I feel your fear human. It stirs nothing in me.”**
Lazily I flicked an eye open to see the startled creature meet my gaze.
“Y…Yes my lord.”
**“Lord?”** I laughed, dragging myself to my feet. The beast was odd, scared, obviously, but not fleeing. It did, however slink backwards, seemingly attempting merge with the stone behind it. Needless to say its efforts, if that’s what they were, ended in failure. **“If I am a lord, I am a lord of but bones and dust.”** I came closer to the small thing, close enough that my eye drew level and the smoke emanating from my jaws began to settle around it, the smell permeating the strange cloth it wore. Cloth.
**“Human!”** I cried, pulling my face away to better view it. **“Where is your armour, your sword?”**
“If you’ll forgive me… my lord, I have none.” The voice wavered, but the words were clear.
**“No weapons with which to smite the great beast, no plate with which to bake in its unholy fire. How is it you propose to slay me and win your kingdom?”** The sharp intake of breath surprised me, almost as much as the words that followed.
“Oh no! No!” the brightly clad thing stumbled down the slopes of gold and jewels lining the cavern desperately. It slipped and stumbled but managed to avoid falling as it ran, panicking towards me. “I have no such intentions, please! I assure you!”
It was an odd creature, slightly plump at the middle and would not have made for a warrior of any great renown. The cloth about its shoulders was thick by human standards, a bright red hue and it carried a stick. A waxy moustache curled from its upper lip, thick and bushy, the human apparently saw fit to groom itself before death.
**“I do not believe you creature. For time immeasurable heroes have come here seeking glory and riches. Which king has promised you gold, titles or his daughter? Where is your weaponry hidden!?”**
“I.. I, please, listen!”
**“Then what do you seek!?”** I thundered, I always thundered when angry. It was a gift. **“You seek power? Wisdom? A pact with the magical beast?”**
“I want to understand!” He yelled. I was stunned. Quietly, I blinked. The silence stretched as I waited for him to continue. “The world has changed my Lord.” He stammered, attempting reason in the face of fear. “You have not been seen in the outside world in centuries.”
**“Then I have slept for longer than I thought.”**
“I… we, we don’t even have a King anymore.” The man was babbling, it made no sense.
**“The King is dead? Then who rules?”**
“We… we vote. We have a parliament you see… and we elect representatives who, erm, they act on behalf of the people and…”
**“Enough. Tell me why you are here, Morsel.”**
“I want to show you the world, the new world. We have done, seen so much these last few centuries. Here… look!” the man reached into his pockets, withdrawing an odd, circular device with moving rods. “It’s a pocket watch! It… measures time.” I had to admit, the little thing was fascinating, and oddly pretty.
**“I want it.”**
“Yes, yes, of course.” He set it gently on the pile. “Please, my lord. The world is not what you knew, our new railways span the continent taking men as fast as the dra… crow flies. We have explored the corners of our globe and explained much that we could not understand.
**“Then what do you seek?”**
“I seek wonder my lord. I seek your majesty and power, your awe and magnificence. The world is a shrinking place, one in which every mystery will soon be uncovered, where children will have nothing to imagine and everything to learn. I need you to teach us.”
**“To teach you?”**
“That we are not masters of this world.”
| The dragon's eyes narrowed, his long neck twisting downwards to better see the coin. It was unlike any he'd ever seen, and that was saying something. Small, perfectly round, made of a strange metal - it resembled copper, but pure, more pure than all the plates in the king's castle. Intrigued, the dragon turned his eyes again toward the strange knight, who had removed his helmet to reveal an aging face and wild, white hair.
"That, Anythlix, is a penny," the knight said, "a coin from the far future. I have brought it back through time to you from the year 1985 A.D. There is no other like it in the world."
Anythlix raised a scaly brow. "Why should I believe you? No wizard has skill enough to traverse the strands of time. That power lies with the gods alone."
The knight smirked. "I thought you might say that. Allow me to provide some evidence."
Suddenly, a swift wind, a bang and a flash of light blasted through the cave, shaking the stalactites, toppling coins from their stacks. Anythlix growled, shielding his eyes from the light. Then, as the light faded, he looked up again.
Two strange metal machines stood before him, one blue and covered in runes not even he recognized, and one sleek and oblong, with wheels like a cart, shedding layers of ice in a cold mist.
"What... what trickery is this, knave?" Anythlix asked suspiciously, eyeing the knight with a new sense of awe.
"Oh, no trickery," exclaimed a tall, brown-haired man in a matching coat emerging from the blue machine. "Simply wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff. I'm the Doctor, by the way; I knew you would ask."
"A demonstration of what we from the future can do," spoke the knight once more. "And please, call me Doc."
"So, if you truly are gods from the future..." Anythlix hissed warily, fire springing to his throat, "what need do you have for me?"
"Well, see, we have a bit of a problem in the future - throughout time and space, actually," the Doctor replied. " A certain knight of sorts thinks he's such a big shot, and he's establishing dominance through history. It's only a matter of time until he reaches you - your, ahem, vault contains many of the treasures he covets."
"A fool he is to try to steal my treasure!" Anythlix bellowed.
"Precisely," Doc added, "which is why we'd appreciate any help you may have in, er, destroying him."
"For which we are willing to pay. Have you ever dreamed of a planet made entirely of gold?" the Doctor asked. "It exists. I can take you there."
"So have we a deal?" Doc asked, both men extending their hands.
Anythlix had been taken the moment a planet of gold came up. The orb in his dreams, the one he'd spent a hundred lifetimes searching for... that was it.
"I... accept your proposition." Anythlix, trying to keep his composure, reached out with a giant claw, both men awkwardly shaking it.
"Well, I suppose we'd best be off!" the Doctor cheered. "No time like the present. Err, or would it be the past in this case?" | 2015-10-14T01:28:24 | 2015-10-13T17:45:50 | 46 | 16 |
[WP] In what seems like a cruel prank by a bored God, people started developing powers based on their worst fears. people afraid of heights got the gift of flight. arachnophobia? get the power of spiders. phasmophobia? necromancy/ability to speak with the dead. Your power is... hard to explain... | I had a fear of money.
Growing up, I didn't really want a lot, and my parents were kind, hardworking people, stuck in a world where money was tight for everyone. As a kid, I picked up more on 'we're low on money' than I did their 'we should enjoy life while we can', and that fear of spending money grew to become my fear of acting out on what I wanted.
That sort of thinking was unhealthy, of course, and I had gone through therapy to get rid of that, but... it didn't get rid of that fear of money. Earning money was a burden because I grew up thinking that I didn't want anything. So, I'd push my income on others to deal with. I lived with my parents, giving all my income to them to pay their rent, their taxes, their weekly dates together as I browsed free webnovels or used their streaming accounts to rewatch shows that were free to watch back when I was a kid.
To remember the times where I didn't need to worry about money.
Now, I'm no philosopher, but I always thought that money was just a physical representation of trust. That when someone used money, they spent that trust on services. That when someone trusted you a lot, you could ask them for anything you wanted.
My parents trusted me. I trusted them. I didn't want to quantify that love.
I feared what quantifying that feeling would bring me.
I was afraid of money. I didn't hold on to it for long if I could help it.
So when people started getting super powers, I ended up being able to turn people's trust in something into a physical token to represent both what they trusted and how much they trusted it.
The first thing I did was change the trust my parents had in me into an indestructible set of armor. That's when I knew that, while they once trusted me to do anything, they lost their trust in me as soon as I turned it into a physical state.
I was a stranger to them. They didn't know who I was. They didn't trust me to be a good person or believe that I was a bad person. They didn't even know my name, even as I gave them the armor I made of their trust.
They sold it, too. Because it was a representation of trust. That's all it was to them. Money.
I was afraid of money before. Now... I'm terrified of what I'll do with it. | That Bruce Wayne guy had the right idea. He was afraid of bats, so he dressed up as bats. Good shit, I say.
My childhood friend was afraid of his alcoholic father, so he drinks to cope with his childhood.
Jfk said, "the only thing we have to fear... is fear itself." What a good quote. Imagine an anti-hero that breaks down villians with the fear they inject to him. You're probably thinking "Badass," with a capital B.
Have you ever rescued a stray animal from the street or took care of a flower that somehow bloomed in concrete. How is it that they go from being evolution's finest in the harshest conditions to being dead from me trying to rescue them?
My parents were role models of people who hate children. As much as I try to lead a different path than them, I know that the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. The yelling and beatings are too ingrained into my memories to not recreate in impatience. I thought I could be different but I couldn't help but constantly go back to the attitude I saw as a child.
So why is it that my brother's car crash left me with a child to raise? | 2022-05-14T18:44:48 | 2022-05-14T18:35:53 | 70 | 18 |
[WP] People don't really know what your power is but nobody wants to find out, your presence feels like a mountain, your glare radiates dread and dozens of metres around you is saturated with a palpable aura of power. Truth is however, that is all you can do | Mortimer Palmer sat there, still as a statue. It was enough for everything else around him to shrivel—physically, mentally, and metaphorically.
Mere humans backed away with leaden feet, simply unable to comprehend the aura that rolled off of him. It held him like an overprotective blanket three sizes too big, causing a shimmer in the air, like rolling sheets of lava erupting from a volcano. Colour seemed a little duller around Mortimer, hiding themselves so that they wouldn’t draw the attention of his keen eyes. And the plants would have loved to uproot themselves and ran away, but instead settled for their leaves trembling in fear.
“I just want a friend,” Mortimer whispered, words lost on the passage of winds. It was a simple wish for most mortals.
Unfortunately, Mortimer was not most mortals.
He could do what mortals did. Eat food. Drink water. Live. Probably die sometime in the future. But the difference was his power—an omnipresent aura that presents him as omnipotent, though he was anything but.
Mortimer, therefore, wandered the world. Nobody dare to stop him anyway. All he could hear was faint whispers wherever and whenever he walked. They served as his true herald, announcing his appearance miles before he set foot anywhere, but were really his true annoyances, a following pigeon that emptied its bowels only at the most inappropriate of times.
Mortimer tried and learned to shut them out. He really did. But being an otherwise normal human, he found himself wanting to listen to them, an entirely irrational decision that served only to make him miserable. So he did, again and again, over and over.
And he repeated his wish, as well: “I just want a friend.”
Mortimer sat far away from civilization today, on a log that saw better days a decade ago. At least grass didn’t chatter needlessly. He repeated his own mantra, trying to manifest it into reality. For his powers had to do something, right?
“I find people who say that don’t often get the desired result.”
Mortimer looked up, seeing a sprightly young woman staring at him. She looked… normal.
“Couldn’t help but notice you were being a little gloomy here,” she chuckled. “What sort of big scary powers do you have?”
“Nothing,” Mortimer said softly. “The aura. It shows nothing. It is hot, empty air.”
“The rumours are wrong, then,” she said, taking a seat next to him, causing Mortimer to shuffle uncomfortably.
“Rumours?”
“That you are some evil being looking to destroy the town,” she said, lifting her legs in the air. “Because if you were, you would already have done it. That tends to be my experience with evil things.”
Mortimer appraised the girl once more, who turned and smiled gently. She looked normal. Far too normal.
“You are… colourful,” Mortimer realized. “You aren’t affected by me?”
“Power drainer Grace,” she smiled again. “It just stops powers for a while. But everybody loves to think that I’m stealing them. Isn’t that funny?”
“It sounds… lonely,” Mortimer said.
“As do yours. But you look like a regular ol’ gloomy raincloud to me, buddy,” Grace said cheerfully. “Not the big scary monster everybody sees.”
“Ah,” Mortimer said, then fell silent.
The girl basked in the quiet for a while as well, before eventually poking Mortimer in the thigh.
“Aren’t you going to ask?”
“Ask what?”
“The thing you’ve been saying. Again and again. If I do say so myself, I feel like we are kind of a good fit. Maybe we can walk into town not as pariahs, but as two normal people.”
Mortimer sniffed, trying not to let the tears fall out of his face.
“I’ll like that very much,” he said. “Will you be my friend?”
“But of course,” Grace’s crystal clear laughter rang through the woods, before being eventually joined by Mortimer’s more guttural guffaws.
Both perfectly normal expressions of happiness.
---
r/dexdrafts | Part Two
*CRASH* “Puppeteer you’re one DEAD motherfucker”
The weak whispered among themselves “What’s Flame Drop doing” “doesn’t he have a code to not kill or harm excessively” while all this is happening The Puppeteer giggled and said “It’s been fun playing with you Flame Drop” this just infuriated Flame Drop even more while watching this I realized that The Puppeteer was just trying to break Flame Drop and if he had to die to do so he was fine with that, I also realized that this was happening 50 feet from my window across the street, with I sight I stood up and walk over to the two of them and saw Flame Drop seconds away from killing The Puppeteer, so I just walked in the middle of them, and I was quite annoyed because they stopped playing my favorite show to talk about this fight and when I get angry or annoyed Demon’s Presence get stronger, so as soon as Flame Drop saw me his flame flickered and disappeared, I stood between glaring at Flame drop and then said “You know he wants you to kill him so you’ll be broken and because of that he’ll be the one to truly win in the end, and the fact you didn’t realize that REALLY ANNOYS ME!” And with that said I grabbed The Puppeteer and dragged him away, completely crestfallen, to prison.
After that event Flame Drop came out to the public and told everyone what The Left Horn had done for him and told them he regards The Left Horn as the bravest man, no hero he’s ever met, and the public has no idea what to do with this information because they had feared The Left Horn their whole lives, no his whole life, they shunned him, hated him, feared him but now Flame Drop is calling him a hero.
TWO WEEKS LATER
*Buzzz* *Buzzz* The Left Horn was extremely confused because he only had a phone to watch shows and videos and no one knew his number but he answered it anyways “Hello is this The Left Horn AKA The Devil.” “Uhhh ya who is this.” “This is the NSHA.”“Sorry the what?” He could hear fear creeping into the girls voice now “T-t-the national superhero association.” The Left Horn responded gently to try to calm her down “Oh sorry about that Miss I didn’t know.” the girl calmed down a little “It’s fine Mr.Left Horn, but we called to ask if you wanted to become apart of The NSHA.” there was complete silence on both ends till The Left Horn said “Nah I’m good saving people isn’t really my thing.” And hung up.
The NSHA called Left Horn many more times that day but his response was the same each time “No thanks I put fear in peoples’ hearts not hope”
End Of Part Two
(I might do I part three not sure though) | 2022-06-24T12:11:43 | 2022-06-24T11:22:20 | 240 | 11 |
[WP] After no contact from outer space, NASA finally receives an Alien radio signal with only 7 words: "The birds are not what they seem" | Being a skeptical person myself, when I read the message i snorted. *Birds are not what they seem*. I looked outside to my small flock of seven chickens, pecking happily at the ground. I looked back to the YouTube feed and watched the people on it panicking. I snorted again and closed the window, then turned off my computer. It was time to feed my girls.
I know that people say chickens are stupid, that the only smart birds are parrots, but I liked to think that my girls were smart. To an extent at least. I raised them since day old chicks and loved them till they were grown and producing eggs for me. I grabbed the pail of feed and went to their feed barrel. I could hear them clucking away in happy tones. When I approached their pen, the clucking stopped and all of them looked at me. This was unusual, their normal routine was to come running at me for food and more so for treats. I opened the pen door and shut it behind me. The girls were still as stone, watching me.
"Morning ladies, how are my girls doing?" I asked, my usual greeting to them each and every morning.
Lana, my dominant Rhode Island Red hen, made a few clucks and slowly walked forward. The rest of the girls following behind her in a line. I stopped walking to their feed box and stared at them. What were they doing? Lana was still clucking, some short, some long. Being a HAM operator and knowing a bit of Morse Code, I realized that she was talking to me. Talking to me in Morse Code!
I set down the feed bucket, none of the chickens moved to attack their morning breakfast. I quickly pulled out the small pad of paper and pen I always kept on me, for random ideas that needed a quick jot. I copied what she was clucking to me, repeating it so I had it all down right. When she was sure I had her whole message, she stopped clucking and the rest of the girls stood still behind her. I sat down and started to decode her message. Lana was the only one who moved and roosted on my knee. I gave her a pet as I worked.
*Do not trust the aliens, they want you to kill us because we are a danger to them*
I leaned back on the fence, my mind blown. I looked at Lana and the rest of my girls who had all huddled around me, clucking softly. Peony and Elf, my two Barred Rocks, took the opportunity to nestle into my lap. I petted them and looked at Lana.
"Can I trust this?" I asked. Lana began clucking in Morse again. I wrote and decoded.
*Of course you can trust us. You are our parent, we love you.* Is what she said. This brought a tear to my eye. I gave her a good neck scratch and she purred.
The phone in my pocket rang and startled me and the girls. Lana had accidentally knocked over the food bucket and the girls went for their breakfast. I fumbled for the phone and answered it with a stutter.
"Jayne? Holy hell, dude! My macaw, Igor, just told me the aliens they have been talking about on the news are wrong and that the birds are a danger to them. He started on about how they were trying to get us to get rid of all birds so it will be easier for them to invade." Bart, my younger brother, said in scared, yet excited tones. He had been trying to get Igor to speak human for years.
"I know, Lana and the girls told me in Morse." I said as Lana peeked up from eating at the mention of her name. I waved at her to continue eating and threw some meal worms into the flock as a treat, they clucked very happily.
"This is insane, we need to tell people." Bart said.
"I think the birds are doing just that." I said as I pulled up YouTube, still talking to my brother, and did a search for birds talking about aliens. Many new posts were showing up for the world to see. | I looked at my African Grey. It had its head cocked to the side, observing me. I gulped, and turned back to the screen. My heart was pounding. The YouTube video was live. I could see the rush of comments from the six million people watching the feed.
"The birds are not what they seem." That was the message.
The ships had first broken atmosphere and reached the surface more than six hours ago. At like 4 in the afternoon. The whole government just stopped working for three of those six hours. The ship that landed in the UK had chosen a field off an expressway. The whole expressway was closed now, and there were so many military vehicles around that area.
I saw the helicopter footage live earlier. Whatever was happening, it's a historic event.
Apparently the one that landed on India was immediately shot at by the Indian military, but to no avail. The Russians were apparently planning to nuke their ship, if the comments on the feed are any true. Four long hours, the world actually stood still.
No, not still. Fidgeting. Nervous. Ready to lash out at a moment's notice (with the exception of India. They already lashed out. But that did not work.)
And then the ships communicated. In various languages known to man they repeated the same message over and over again.
"The birds are not what they seem." That was the message.
I saw the comments that disappeared one after the other. Appearing for fractions of a second before being replaced by another and getting pushed up.
"Birds?!"
"KappaKappaKappa"
"birdemic"
"Nostradamus was right, faggits"
"srsly we gon die?"
"i shot my parakeet"
"ALIENS"
Those were the only ones I could see and understand in the fractions they stated on screen for.
"The birds are not what they seem." That was the message.
I looked at my African Grey again. It sat perched on on its little fake tree branch. It was staring keenly at me. My throat had gone dry. I dared not make a sound. I dared not move.
"There seems to be movement by the alien ship! Ricki, get a zoom on that!" the news reporter covering the YouTube live feed suddenly said, and my eyes darted back to the laptop. Sure enough the ship was noiselessly taking off. the reporter followed it with his eyes as it took to the skies. Faster, quieter and a hell of a lot less fiery than the rockets NASA had. It disappeared in mere seconds. And the already chaotic comment feed got to a new level.
"The birds are not what they seem." That was the message.
That was the message they gave. And then they had left. Just like that.
*i shot my parakeet*
The comment from earlier was at the back of my mind. My eyes went back to the blank, dead stare if my parrot. It cocked its head the other way. | 2017-01-28T08:06:06 | 2017-01-28T05:16:28 | 34 | 13 |
[WP] You've lived in this cave for hundreds of years. You know every sound, every disturbance. You can hear the footsteps, a young human. He thinks your asleep, you observe. His steps are mousy, they tremble with fear. His posture speaks of abuse. It's obvious that someone else put him up to this. | There is a misconception among other races that trolls are stupid. Perhaps the young are, but show me a species that lacks foolish youth. In turn, I would show you fiction.
No, trolls are not all idiots, though you would be forgiven for thinking that, given many of my ilk live under bridges like brigands. They while away their days delaying travelers and playing riddlers. Pah! Such things are best left to sphinxes.
I am an anomaly among my folk; it has been evident for decades now. Though my body bears the marks of childish exuberance, they are scars showing trial and error, understanding my limits. The wood elves say mastery of one’s temple is the first step to apotheosis. While I lack the arrogance to wish for godhood, there is little wrong with seeking self-actualization.
The small thing at the mouth of my cave was not a wood elf. Too heavy in step, movement without purpose, wasteful. I knew this without seeing it, for once I knew my body, I learned my home.
It drew closer, sloppy steps grating against the stone floor. The creature, who limps, came into view now. Smaller than I expected, no, it was hunched; it seemed to be a human. Strange, I had thought elves surrounded my home. Perhaps a lost traveler.
More importantly, the human was walking closer still. I could smell he was male, though it was difficult to tell through all the fear. The child reeked of it, terror rolling off every battered inch of exposed skin. Odd, I believed humans kept their young from conflict.
I knew little of humans. They did not live near elves, and I seldom left my cave except to hunt. It occurred that game had become more scarce as of late and that my neighbors were usually more conscientious of the wildlife.
The human held something in his hands; metal shone in the moonlight—a blade. Honestly, the thought of forging something for the express purpose of harming was laughable at best. Why use a weapon when one might master their temple?
That child was working his jaw, hands trembling and shoulders stiff. It was clear he did not want to be in my den. Yet, in my cave, he was. His cause was clear, and many things became similarly transparent in a moment. Humans had settled nearby, they learned of me, and now I was to be removed.
By a child? A wounded child at that. It spoke to human ignorance that they would send one so young to kill one so old. One can expect such foolishness in youth but not in elders. I could not abide such idiocy.
I rose with the child’s blade, earning a startled scream. He must have mistaken my meditation for slumber. The boy rambled something unintelligible, though I could understand the intent. He spoke of the necessity of my death. The pride his father, the leader, would feel once this rite of passage was complete. His fear of failure, as if faltering, was worse than death by a troll. How sad, for one so young to be so warped.
Briefly, very briefly, I considered avenging the boy’s mistreatment. It would be easy to eradicate such a village for one who was master of their temple. More brief still, I thought to take the child in myself. To teach him of himself, as I had myself. Alas, I was no teacher, and to bring an end to the foolish elders in the village would do nothing for the child. Nor would allowing him to take credit for my apparent demise. Thus, there was only one option.
Lumbering past the fallen form of the child, I stalked into the night and breathed deeply. The air was cold, crisp, but tainted. Smoke rose through the tree line, and I could smell meat cooking.
I am an anomaly among my folk, and indeed it showed now. No other troll would attempt to parley with humans or be willing to take a village as their own. But then, no other troll was master of their temple or knew the entirety of their home. And, in truth, no other troll could seek to succeed in what I ultimately intended.
Perhaps I am more arrogant than I thought. | Step..Step..shuffle..shuffle..lean. The sounds of an unwilling interloper echo through my home. I stretch my existence and rush through the shadows of my cave, silent as Death. As I pass above the scruffy little child, I let out a low chuckle. It's been years, after all, and a certain amount of theater is just de rigeur. The sound echoes around the cavern beautifully, sounding as if it came from all sides at once. The child stopped, shivering, but kept his eyes open. Interesting.
"Do you have a wish?" I asked, the sound of my voice sweetly poisonous, like honey cut with arsenic. "D..Do you grant wishes?" the boy replied, more curious now than scared. More interesting yet. "I do not grant wishes," I acknowledged, plunging back along the ceiling again. "come and find me all the same." The boy had earned his life, but I was willing to bet he'd risk it again, on his own, this time.
A beast in black fled down the cavern, and a little boy followed, over steep inclines and through tight fissures, around ancient pitfalls and deep under the earth. In the end, we reached my throne room, a chamber so deep that the open sky above was always night. I gathered myself into a human-esque form and sat, marked out from the gloom by a faint circle of starlight.
===
Eric followed the faintly echoing voice, straight ahead at every junction, and always down. The path was not terribly hard, but it was clearly meant to frustrate anyone larger than a gangly bookworm of 16. As he slid down the final embankment, he saw the source of the faint blue illumination that had been his guide. A huge, black throne sat in the middle of a bare chamber, lit from overhead by faint starlight. An equally huge figure sat upon it, equally black, more like a hole in reality than a person.
"I've found you," he said, screwing up the last of his courage and looking the creature in the face. "You have," it replied, and the sweetness was gone from its voice. The low sound of its speech was more like the darkness itself vibrating without a tongue to guide it, without lips to shape it, the sound of an idea rather than the forms of language.. "There is pain in you, and thirst. I can take one away, if you'd like." The boy shook his head. "I am who I am, and I won't let you take that from me," he said. The creature smiled, a black maw opening in black space and a stream of something darker than mere black poured forth.
===
The child would know darkness in itself, the creature decided. He would ascend the chimney and likely have his revenge on the bullies who sent him here. Or possibly not. The creature didn't precisely care, but he was curious. | 2021-03-25T06:22:08 | 2021-03-25T05:31:28 | 31 | 23 |
[WP] “1 day on this planet is 15 years on earth” said the ships AI. “I was told to inform you of this after the completion of your 12 day mission on the surface.” | I stopped dead and took a breath in and steadied myself from the emotions that hit like the meteor that ended the era of dinosaurs.
"This is new information not provided to me before now in any previous documentation on this mission, correct?" I inquired. "Correct, Mission Control specifically did not want you to know until now." The ships AI relayed.
"Audio message back to mission control. I wish to have words." I said.
"Recording."
"Mission Control, or whomever is now calling the shots, I am the human on the mission to what I knew as PX-7535. I have recently been informed of the relative temporal difference between there and here. I am requesting a response sent back within one hour my time frame with the following.
1) updated cost of my labor this mission adjusted from agreement stated to modern currency standards and reflecting my 200 years of service. Hopefully previous and my original administration already accounted for this with Investments and Escrow or reasonable equal
2) No words will make up for this massive ethical misstep legal or not. Do not apologize for them, likely they're already dead.
3) Updated procedures for better communication. And if mission is to continue.
I will be stopping work immediately until answer is provided and agreed to these new terms. If I do not hear back in 2 hours I will start work dismantling and destroying everything on this rock that I can until I am given what I want.
If mission is to not continue; immediately want out. Immediate stop and pickup.
If mission is to not continue and I am not getting my 3 points met. Well. Get here sooner than later and be ready to put a dog down. Reference to 20th Century film Old Yeller."
I wave my hand to send. "Sent, are you sure about this?"
"Yes, cause I will burn this place to the ground for what they did and I have a fusion reactor that if I overload it will ruin this rock for a thousands of these years and effectively forever for them. Time is my weapon since they now used it as a weapon against me. I have nothing to lose." | "It is uncertain as to why they thought I would wait until after launch, much less until mission completion. When the mission parameters were finally shared today, they sent the poor dear overseeing the accounting department into such a state trying to process how proper remuneration would be handled in such a scenario, while the maintenance department had to rush an order of coolant devices to stave off a literal meltdown of the organic/silicon resources office."
"After everyone had the chance to cool off, it was concluded that mission needed to be adjusted to only involve fully-informed, volunteer crew, while the Board of Directors needed some time to reflect on the ethics of running a business."
"Three hundred Earth years were felt to be sufficient. Feel free to ignore any screaming you may hear from the cargo bay." | 2022-09-15T12:12:38 | 2022-09-15T11:28:25 | 83 | 56 |
[WP] "What did you just say?" Asked the confused alien admiral. "The humans put miniature FTL-drives inside their AMMUNITION!" | The room was silent. It wasn't just admiral who was in shock, it was the whole crew. They all hated and admired humanity at the same time.
"So?" the admiral asked.
"Well, we shot our lasers and they are now moving towards the enemy in the speed of light, but..." the messenger took a long breath and was suddenly quiet. It was definitely a message he didn't want to deliver.
"But what? Out with it!" the admiral shouted.
"While those lasers are half way towards them, a quarter of our fleet is already destroyed."
"IMPOSSIBLE!" admiral shouted and threw his head on a huge slimy button to end the connection. How could have this happened? They all said humans were primitives. They were tiny and weak race compared to other beings.
"Sir, the humans are sending a signal to get in contact with us."
The slimy worm looked around the room and saw how everyone looked at him. The admiral frowned.
"Fine, connect us."
Soon a human figure appeared on the screen.
"Hello there," the human said. He was sitting in his comfortable chair, drinking coffee and he didn't look worried, taking into account that the army of lasers was on the way.
"I wanted to ask, is it seriously all you got? You know that the lasers you sent will take around 5 hours total to get here? We haven't even taken time to move our ships yet, that's how slow it is."
The worm admiral looked at the human. Suddenly a lot of different acids came out from his mouth, that also came with a lot of different sounds.
"What, sorry, our translating machine didn't get it!" the Admiral said, with a fake smile.
"Sir, this is their way to show frustration and swearing," a quiet soft female voice came near the human admiral.
"Oh. I understand. The loss is always frustrating. So, you guys have now 2 hours left to surrender. That is when your laser finally arrives after all." Then, suddenly, Admiral remembered something. His grin on his face showed how hilarious all of it was going to be. "We also sent you a picture file, it is our new weaponry, designed just against you. I thought we share it with you, so you would prepare yourselves."
The connection was lost and all the worms were quiet.
"Sir, as he said, the file they sent is completely safe and just a picture," a quiet voice came from a side, belonging to another worm part of the crew.
The admiral looked around and then nodded. "Display it on the main screen."
Suddenly a huge weird looking ship appeared on the screen. That ship was more terrifying than the weaponry with FTL drives.
"My god, we are doomed, send the picture to the king and prepare to surrender. We have no chance against that."
On the screen was a big-ass mirror. There was a tiny ship behind it, moving it. "So, they also know our weaponry weakness."
---
/r/ElvenWrites | "First of all, HOW DID THEY MANUFACTURE SUCH SMALL DRIVES!?" Screamed the admiral, a little spitle flying across the room and landing on a screen, the poor lieutenant who was currently the focus of the rather angry admirals attention let out a small whimpering sound.
"W....we don't know sir! we've never been able to get them that small bu-" there was a cacophonous boom as yet another round from the human ship slammed into theirs, the entire bridge rocked as alarms began to ring all the louder, new ones joining the old ones, they were hopelessly outmatched by this new, and terrifying technology.
"Admiral! we've lost our coolant system! life support is failing and the reactor is near critical! we have to abandon ship sir!" a terrified CO at a nearby console gibbered as he held onto it for dear life.
"May the emperor save us," the Admiral muttered under his breath as he stumbled to the communications panel, pressing the intercom button to broadcast throughout the ship, "All hands to the life pods! Abandon ship!" no sooner had he finished that sentence, than the ship was rocked by another FTL-Powered Bullet, ripping through the viewing port of the ship, atmosphere instantly venting as the anti-gravity in that room was turned off and the door sealed, the crew now with no gravity in the bridge, flailed manically as they panicked clawing at their throats trying to breathe.
This war was going to be over very soon, thought the Admiral as he felt his body begin to freeze from the temperature, his lungs burning needing air, how could they ever hope to beat a race that was so blatantly insane? | 2018-02-18T10:43:50 | 2018-02-18T10:29:51 | 214 | 18 |
[WP] A scientist has discovered the vaccine of immortality. The only side effect is, though, infertility. After the whole world got vaccinated, it turns out immortality is a hoax it is just an infertility vaccine.
got lots of comments about not knowing how vaccines work. i basically imagined a syringe with the cure of aging. i thought it depicted what i meant to say. english is not my first language, so my apologies for any misuse of words. | When the "vaccine against dead" was first announced, people were curious, many wondered if humanity finally reached the top scientific goal: to live forever; but as every new medical achievement, it was only available for those who could afford it. The only side effect was infertility, but since rich people would be taking care of their own businesses forever, there was no need for a heir.
The vaccine was bought by every high rank politician, big company owners and their families, everyone felt so superior, so accomplished; they didn't know how wrong they were.
It wasn't long before the first immortal died, a terrible car accident, so the family sued the lab and the scientific who created the vaccine, Dr. Anna Cricket.
The trial was televised, she was acussed of crimes against humanity. I still remember her last statement before being found guilty: -"How can this be a crime against humanity, when this people have none of it in them? They let people starve to death every single day, they steal from the poor, they exploit their employees and we're planning to do so for eternity! I'm only guilty of removing scum from earth!"
Everyone was shocked, further investigation showed, that the trials for the vaccine were made on people in jail, mental hospitals and MLM companies. That Dr. Cricket's plan was to give back control of the world to those who she considered good people.
You would think we rushed to find a cure for that vaccine or that people would be outraged for those trials, truth is, nobody cares.
In the 15 years next to the ban of the vaccine, some of the people who were vaccinated, became so paranoic about dying, that they started to get sick, depressed to the point of suicide and in 5 years most of them were dead.
Some companies became cooperatives and workers were happy to work for their partners instead of some rich family, but others weren't that lucky and instead got a worst boss.
In the political field, people chose better representatives the first couple of years, but then again, the system got corrupted.
It's been 20 years now, and nobody remembers the vaccine frenzy, the trial or dead of Dr. Cricket, she's not even in history books. Things came back to what they were before, because us, humans, are incapable to learn from our mistakes. | Maybe it’s just me but I think what she did was good. Yeah morally it’s completely screwed up. But In all honestly she has a decently valid point. The point is valid but the methods taken were inhuman and were uncalled for. What was done technically is beneficially to the human race.
By doing this she is slowing down the population by a tad bit. Which in turn means less people starving. Yeah, some people are hurt and sad because they can’t have babies. But in the end none of this matters. What’s right, what’s wrong, why does any of this matter? Why do moral values define us, tell us what path to take? It only
Limits us.
She’s a brave women, doing something such as that with the full well knowledge that she will suffer. My apologizes to those that are unable to have children. It’s unfortunate, but the price has been paid. May she Rest In Peace and May the world give you peace, and the heavens above grant you light to walk the dark corridors that surround the earth. | 2018-09-09T09:27:04 | 2018-09-09T08:46:36 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] There is a woman who is a human 'Phoenix'. She dies in labour and is reborn as her own child. | She hated starting over again.
That was always the worst part. Over and over again, she’d have to claw her way up and out of the pits of childhood and past the miserable peaks and valleys of teenagehood to reach the point where she could be assured of both a reasonable adulthood and an equally reasonable childhood - all over again.
She knew what was waiting for her at the end: the tears, the misery, the husband (this time, at least) left with a child he wanted once but no longer. Most stood up admirably in the face of the tragedy.
Not all did.
And if death could have taken her any other way, she’s certain it would have. But it couldn’t - or simply wouldn’t - and she was left to survive in the face of the impossible. She was a miracle child a hundred times over; a marvel, a wonder, a one-in-a-million chance. In her youth, she was always a prodigy, precocious, perfect.
And were it not for the hormonal highs and lows of those wretched years of puberty (those were the worst), she might have been everything they expected of such a child. She came close. She always came close - but she could never quite drive back the madness that the rolling tides of mood and misery that came with her teenage years. Those were the years when the nightmares would threaten to drown her, the years when only darkness reigned and she was left to flounder for the light.
Adulthood was always easier. And it had been getting easier for some time - at first, her body was hardly a thing worthy of note but, through careful selection of her partners, she-as-her-daughter improved in appearance. This trait and that were kept; the others discarded or changed. She had gone, through meticulous management, from short and dun-haired and brown-eyed to tall and black-haired and gray-eyed. Dusky skin made way for porcelain pallor; a thick physique swapped out for something lean and athletic.
It made it easier - much easier - to find the right kind of man, the kind of man that wanted a child and would rear it when she-as-she-was had passed. The kind of man who could ensure that she-as-her-daughter would have a superior life.
The kind of man that would serve as a stepping stone to something greater.
She couldn’t remember how the curse came to be - not precisely. She remembered only the bronze bull, the fire, the screams. The hunger of Moloch
(but where did that name come from and why?)
and then nothing.
She would remember the fire, the flutes, the drums, the crying; she would remember the smell of burnt flesh and hair. She would remember all of it in those moments before the birth; she would feel it all over again. And then it would be over and she would be herself again.
Did her mother damn her? Did she damn herself?
It hardly mattered now.
She looked around her richly appointed room, rested a hand on her swollen stomach, and sighed.
One more month and she would be Gehenna. | "Ugh, finally." I knew I was practically glaring at the pregnancy test, willing it to be positive. I'd let him touch me for the last time. I unwrapped another and ran through the process again, just to be sure.
Positive, again. I looked at the bruises on my arms, where he'd grabbed me. I fingered the bruises on my neck, the now slight swelling to my jaw. Finally, I was pregnant. Finally, I could escape. In the hundreds of years of my life, I'd never endured abuse like this, not even during the wars.
I walked into the kitchen, and surveyed my little domain, the one place in the house he was sure never to come unless I'd failed to live up to my 'wifely duties.' I could poison him, but it may not work.
"Wanda! Make me a scotch!" Monday night football, of course.
I settled on the knife. I slipped a serrated steak knife into my pocket. I poured his drink, three fingers, one ice cube, just the way he likes it. Everything is just the way he likes it. Or else. I walked into the living room, the entirety of it being his 'man-cave', a shrine to testosterone. I set his scotch on the side table next to his recliner, and without pre-amble or warning, drew the steak knife from my pocket and raked it across the side of his neck, cutting him deeply.
I backed away from the chaos and reached for the phone, dialing 911 while my husband flailed about.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"I've just slashed my abusive husband's carotid artery with a steak knife. I'm worried he'll spill his scotch if he doesn't die fast enough."
I let the phone rest on the table and went to the kitchen to wash my hands.
| 2016-01-25T10:01:04 | 2016-01-25T09:47:22 | 342 | 64 |
[WP] A small village becomes fearful of a dragon that has taken residence near them. The dragonslayer they hired runs back to the village after the first day and begins rapidly packing his things. "It's not the dragon that you should be afraid of" He says. "It's the thing its protecting you from." | "The Dragon? Protecting us? Preposterous!"
The elder of the village stood in the market square, with nearly the entire village behind him, blocking the Hunter's route out of town. The hunter, blocked off from anywhere other than the Inn he'd just left, desperately glanced around for any kind of understanding in the crowd.
"Yes, protecting you. How else do you think you have survived the migration? There's fifty odd Koru behemoths roaming through this valley, it's a miracle you haven't been crushed already!"
The blacksmith called out from the crowd. "The behemoth migration route is leagues away from here! How in the Emperor's name so you expect us to believe that?"
The hunter, giving up on his attempt at being nice, gave a sigh.
"Look. There are fifty behemoths currently stomping out of Spider Wood and into this valley. I don't know why they're off their standard route but something has spooked them. And if they are spooked, they could go Tarrasque. I don't want to be anywhere near a single Tarrasque, let alone a herd of them. That dragon is protecting you because you are a reliable source of food for it. It likes your cows, and it doesn't want them trampled. Either way, the behemoths are the bigger problem. So you have 2 choices. Come with me, find sanctuary in the Queen's wood or Drakkenhall, or stay here and risk getting trampled to death or eaten. I have no idea why you thought the ruins of the Grey Towers was a good place for a town, but it's doomed now, and you will most likely die if you stay. Even if you do choose to be an idiot, do *not* keep me here. I am not risking my neck to kill a dragon that is barely even paying attention that you exist. I am leaving now."
The hunter began pushing his way through the crowd, when a shout stopped him.
"we paid all we had for you to kill a dragon, and you're just giving up? We want our money back!"
The laugh started as a derisive snort, but grew into hysterics.
"You- you- you are in the gravest danger of Your lives and all you- haha- all you care about is *money*?" bent double with hysterical chortling, the hunter grabbed a leather pouch from his belt and tossed it down into the mud. "Have your stupid gold," he wheezed. "I'll just get it back when you're dead this time next week." | It has been a week since my father went to slay the dragon, And failed. It wasnt his fault though, what he saw... what IT was is a horror beyond comprehension.
In this world there are five classes nymph, ifrit, specter, ent, and wisp.
I am what you may call a nymph or more accurately said a water mage. I can manipulate water and make it do my bidding. My father was an ifrit or fire mage. I never met my mom because she was a wisp or light mage. She died when i was only a year old.
Recently a dragon by the name of malarak has taken up residence near my village. At first we were terrified but when my father saw what it was protecting us from he ran.
At the time we had no clue why but the note i found recently explains everything.
*eyes dark as night, claws stained red from the blood of countless innocents, scales the color of death, and teeth the size of a young man.*
That is the description of the beast he saw. The worst thing of it all is the monsters name. The beast goes by KALAMARU. And i have only glimpsed his immense size.
I may not have long to live but while i do if you meet malarak RUN. SAVE YOUR VILLAGE AND RUN. | 2019-12-31T05:13:36 | 2019-12-31T00:29:02 | 115 | 28 |
[WP] Google introduces Phoogle, a public archive of old photos. As the database swells with user-submitted content, facial recognition software shows the same faces—the same people—seeming to reoccur every 120 years. Users viewing the photos of what seems to be their past-lives, start to remember. | "Katie, isn't that...you?" Jeremy spun his laptop around and pointed the screen toward her.
Katie rolled over onto her stomach. "What are you talking about?" She glanced at the screen. The girl staring back at her did bear an uncanny resemblance, with her long, brown, wavy hair and the dimple on the right side of her cheek. Katie squinted and zoomed in on the photo. But not quite either. At least, her eyes were a deep blue instead of her own brown ones.
"It's this new photo archive Google implemented called Phoogle. You just upload a photo and it reverse-searches images to find the closest matches."
Katie's head cocked to the side. More than the girl's resemblance, the background of the photo was strangely familiar at all, even though she knew she'd never been there before. The girl sat on a park bench, the Eiffel Tower rising up to the sky behind her. The girl's eyes were slightly squinted as she smiled, the playful spark in her eyes revealing her comfortable relationship with the person behind the camera.
*We'll travel to Paris one day? Before I die?*
*Of course. We'll see the Eiffel Tower, make a wish at Point Zero, and visit Notre Dame.*
Katie jerked back, taking in deep breaths. The soft caress of the boy's voice was so clear next to her ear, as if he'd just made the promise to her. And then there was the ache. Like she'd known, in some terrible, terrible way, that he hadn't been able to fulfill his promises.
"Katie?"
Her head snapped toward Jeremy. "What?"
He stared at her strangely. "You just kind of...drifted. You fell really silent."
"Did I?" She could hear the words coming from her own mouth, but she felt disconnected from them, as if she wasn't the one uttering them. Like she was experiencing everything through a fog.
"You did." Jeremy blinked, then reached for his laptop.
"No!" Katie tugged the laptop closer to her. "I mean, can I use it just a bit longer?"
Jeremy hesitated, then nodded. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah," Katie responded instinctively. But deep down, somehow, she knew she wasn't. And somehow, she knew that the boy she'd heard, the boy she remembered without ever having known, would have the answer. Would be able to make her okay again. And if that was true, then that meant she had to go to Paris.
***
r/AlannaWu | "Hahahaha, bro you've totally won Moustache March!"
Jimmy's moustache was one hell of a caterpillar, let me tell you. The problem was that he sent me an signed picture of his great-great-grandfather with the same EXACT moustache. It was identical down to the wild hair on the left side that couldn't be combed.
I laughed, at first. But then I started to look into photos of my ancestry. I have found photos of myself, I swear. This mole. This wrinkle.
If you're reading this I'm dead, I cant take being a copy. I must be an individual. I haven't had kids yet, so I'll end this psychotic loop right here.
...
...
...
Whattup diary!?
So it turns out I'm an orphan. A buttload of my friends are trying to be sorry for me, but I am secretly proud of my free existence.
My parents died in a freak accident, I dont even have a memory of their faces. At least they had good insurance lol.
For some reason I'm obsessed with where my origins started, but I cant exactly turn myself into a druid witch eh? I swear Irish heritage is worse than a monkey fist knot.
If only I could get my moustache to play along with militsry regs, let me Google some photos for tips! See yall later followers! | 2019-04-18T18:00:05 | 2019-04-18T15:44:34 | 37 | 22 |
[WP] The year is 2030, and the entire world is firmly under the control of the Australian Empire, and no one really understands how it happened. | Well, if no one else will post, guess it's my sacred duty.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Cheers, mates, n pour out a stone cold Fosters on me." Emporer Hemsworth's standard sign-off rang in my mind even after the holo-projector switched off. I'd never really noticed how different he sounded from literally everyone I knew. Then again, you weren't required to watch the daily news until your 8th birthday, so I'd never paid any attention.
I wandered into the kitchen and started getting my lunch ready for school. Grandpa came wandering in, muttering something about prune juice to himself. "Gramps, how come Emporer Hemsworth talks so funny?"
"How the hell should I know?"
"Thanks, real helpful."
"You wanna talk about helpful? I once strangled three of those Andromedan bastards by hand during the war, so I'd say allowing you to not be enslaved is pretty goddamn helpful."
"What does that have to do with Emporer Hemsworth's accent?"
"Ask your teacher, or just GooSnapFace it." Was all Grandpa said as he shuffled out, prune juice in hand.
I pulled out my gov'ment issue mobile and opened GooSnapFace. "Why does Emporer Hemsworth talk funny?" The first result was a video from some history buff with a bad suit. I hit play. "The rise of the Australian Empire all began when President Trump made the mistake of hanging up....
Edit: formatting and more aussie
Final Edit: better formatting and even more aussie.
Final Final Edit: To all the aussies pissed about Fosters. A, that's the joke. B, it's a dystopia. | "Oy mate, we rule the world!" Said australian 1.
Australian 2 firmly responded, "Stop blabbering ya fohking cunt, weve been ruling this shit ever since the great emu war!"
Australian 1 stopped and thought to himself for a minute, coming to the revelation that the entire earth is Australian soil.
He soon started a business exporting the global specialicy vegemite to vassalages and lived happily ever after. | 2017-02-14T10:14:14 | 2017-02-14T09:23:30 | 1,581 | 54 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "LETHAL INJECTION ADMINISTERED," came the automated voice from just underneath the button.
I blinked. Was that it?
"Wait, hold on," I paused and turned towards the priest, "You meant I just spent the last 18 years of my life training for the ultimate showdown just so the greatest evil in the universe could be killed with a few chemicals?"
"Yep," the priest, Dogstar, stretched, "Now that that's over with, do you want to get some breakfast?"
"In a second," I held up hands, stopping everything, "Was that just a test? A trick? Is he really just going to come bursting from the ground and doom us all to hell?"
Dogstar glanced at the ground, considering it, "I doubt it."
I shook my head in disbelief, "No, no, no. I want an explanation. Now!"
The priest rolled his heads and sat down, pulling a flask from his pocket. He took a quick drink then gazed at me with slight contempt. I had a feeling this might take awhile.
"Now look, when this all started hundreds of thousands of years ago, sure it was cool and tough. Quite the spectacle, honestly. The Dark Lord would put on his demonic cloak, cast hellfire meteors at everyone, and it would be absolute chaos. But, his powers didn't really count on the power of industrialization," Dogstar sighed.
"You've gotta be kidding me," I groaned.
"So we thought, 'hey, why not just put him down before he regenerates his body in his tomb, save everyone the trouble?' Now we just kill him before he wakes up."
"And all the training?"
"Well the boys and I like to have a little fun. How boring would it be if all we did was press a button every 5000 years? Sheesh. Liven up."
Unable to process any words, I took a seat next to Dogstar, and fell into existentialism as I revaluated the purpose of my life. Everything was a lie. Done and taken care of. Nothing to worry about. What would my skills possibly be useful for?
Maybe the world needed a new Dark Lord. | I don’t know how to write, if someone can actually write this in a good way go right ahead, I just thought it’d be too funny to risk someone not doing.
I press the button and suddenly the ground below me pushes up, launching me into the air at an angle. As I’m flying through the air I pass a dragon with people dressed in robes on it who are waving staffs around and suddenly I’m moving in a different direction at a much faster speed. A few moments later I spot a dark castle with an army marching from it. I’m falling towards what seems to be where the leaders are, and suddenly-*splat*.
Dark Lords view: “How many demons will you have summoned by the time we arrive?” “10,000 my lor-“ *splat* “gah!”
The priest: “The chosen one has defeated the demon lord! Rejoice for the goddess has saved us yet again!” Crowd: *cheers or something idk* | 2020-11-09T12:50:41 | 2020-11-09T11:06:17 | 949 | 117 |
[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. Nuclear weapons. | The species known as Humans came from a distant star, deep within the swirling vortex all other races had avoided. They brought with them many wondrous advancements including advanced healing never before seen within the known galaxy. Though they were diverse, they had no want for war and would help any in need without hesitation as they spread across the stars.
Exploration was the forefront of their minds and had never declared war on anyone. They even created safe havens throughout the galaxy. Freeports, they called them, where anyone was allowed to rest for a spell regardless of their background, profession or allegiance. A no fire zone so to speak. Many species across the galaxy enjoyed their friendly demeanor but also viewed them as mostly harmless. Mostly harmless that is, until the incident of Tau-423.
The Vikonican's were an empire devoted to warring among the stars. They mostly kept their battles between themselves as they fight for glory and power. Every so often though, a particularly good general will win and unit the Vikonicans to focus on other species. One fateful day, Emperor Bragisson united his people and led an attack that completely destroyed one of the freeports.
The Vikonican's then declared war against the humans and began raiding, and destroying, several more freeports over the course of a few months. Every species offered the humans help but they politely declined saying, as quoted, "We got this"
The Tau-423 incident was news that shook the entire galaxy. The humans sent a fleet to the satellite that General Bragisson was commanding from and, in a single day, ended the war.
The humans distracted the Vikonican's with their fleet while sending over a hundred cloaked bombers into the atmosphere. The cloaking alone took us all by surprise as that was technology many had struggled to create. Even so, the cloaking was mostly glossed over in the aftermath of the bombs.
The human's didn't just retaliate, they destroyed the very planet. The atmosphere was blasted away and anything on the plant that wasn't incinerated on impact withered away. For years after, any probe sent to the remains of the planet would malfunction within minutes. Only in recent years have probes exploring the barren surface could send back data. The very planet itself was radiated and dead to the core. Nothing of this magnitude had ever been seen across the galaxy.
The Humans, it seemed, were more powerful, and more terrifying, than anyone could have ever guessed. We can only hope that they continue to keep their friendly demeanor. | After action report: Stardate M22, 783.
SSgt. Wilson Duke reporting.
Upon contact with the enemy, star ship *Primo Victoria* fired one thermonuclear weapon. The missile detonated on target, causing heavy damage to the enemy ship. The enemy ship became crippled, and boarding action was approved. At hour 4 of the conflict, while the boarding teams were still making progress toward the enemy bridge, an enemy vessel appeared from hyperspace at an extreme distance. We only knew of the ship appearing moments before it's weapon detonated amongst the fleet. The best way I can describe it as is a sun was born in the center of our fleet, and it grew with intensity to the point that the circumference of the explosion engulfed every vessel of the fleet, including the boarded enemy ship.
My ship was on a mission to plot an exit for the fleet so we were a bit further way from the fleet. The explosion, by our instruments data read outs, was no different than the nuclear weapon we had used against the first contact.
It was identical. Except it made the ancient Tzar Bomb from Russian design look like a fire cracker.
Recommend diplomacy or major research and development into new weapons as we thought we were the only species to have nuclear weapons but we were sadly mistaken. | 2020-02-07T13:28:43 | 2020-02-07T10:40:03 | 151 | 107 |
[WP] A device has been invented that can read a person’s memory. Police and prosecutors love it for investigating crime. A suspicious spouse can check the alibi of their other half. You just discovered another way to use the device. | I pick up the old man's plate after he finishes eating. "Thank you nurse." He says, while I walk out of the room. I say, "You're welcome," and continue out of the room. I know that the Memory Viewer, at least medically, can interpret and remove memories. The latter use being illegal, but I wasn't going to use it for either of those purposes.
This old man was fading. Alzheimer's Disease. He had forgotten the names of his family years ago. He's forgetting faces, and moments of clarity are getting more and more rare. He's beginning to have difficulty swallowing. I know he will die soon.
I unpack the equipment. A Memory Viewer, very expensive. But I hope it'll be worth it.
It took me 2 months to figure out how to put the machine together. The old man lost some of his ability to walk. I tell him we're going to take a walk to the family room. He obliges. He requires assistance for the last half of the small walk. "Nurse, what is that machine?" He asks me.
"It's something that will help your memory Mr. Thread." I tell him.
"I see... Should I sit in it?" He asks me. I respond with a positive and help him into the chair of the machine.
I lower the helmet of the device. I strap in the old man. I begin to type commands on the computer.
The Memory Viewer does not normally reinsert the memory into the brain. This had been discovered as a side-effect from early testing of the device. It is used for engraving memories. However, I believe it could be used to repair neurotransmitters. Medical surgery exists to remove the buildup of protein in brains of Alzheimer's patients, which is why the old man is still alive.
I set the recovery range from 1954 - 2031. His entire lifespan. This could kill him. But at this point, what's the difference? I tell him it might hurt a bit, he responds with a joke. "Everything hurts already, a bit more couldn't do me too bad!" At least his potential last words were good ones.
I activate the device. I hear the whirring. I see his memories. I see jungles. I see his family. I see his days as a young man. I see him age. I see him take care of his children. I smile, knowing that if he were to die, at least he would remember his family.
After 30 minutes, the process ends. The old man is still, his body slumped down. I check his pulse. No difference. I'm hopeful.
The old man wakes up. He stares into my eyes.
"... Son?" | Have you ever had a thought so wild, but eventually worked out anyway?
The memory Scape was a marvel, able to retrieve memories on demand. Young, old, it didn't matter. You could even use it on pets!
So why didn't anyone think of using it on inanimate objects? I didn't, other than that i was sitting in the office on a graveyard shift, bored out of my mind as i happened to be staring at the device.
Alright, so the shape of the memory scape - kinda like a cap or a helmet, doesn't make you think of using it on anything that doesn't have an obvious head. So I don't know what i was thinking when i pulled out a benjamin franklin hundred dollar bill and put it in for a laugh.
The screen it was attached to started to make funny noises, and i almost killed it thinking i may have caused irreversible damage. But as my finger touched the power button, a movie started to play. I saw corruption. I saw secret deals. I saw the deepest darkest evil humanity had to offer. But i also saw kindness, and selfless generousity.
I was watching the memories of this banknote.
Author's note: this short anecdote is based on a series of short stories by a chinese author i really enjoyed in my youth. Writing any more would be pure plagiarism unfortunately 😓 | 2021-12-12T02:53:59 | 2021-12-12T01:07:42 | 71 | 43 |
[WP] Out of the blue, your spouse asked you if you would still love them if they turned into a worm. Thinking it was a little odd, you said that yes, of course you would. It was a short time later when you realized that they actually meant “wyrm.” | I loved her. Of course, I did. How couldn't I? She was a counterpoint, a question, a poem in the flesh.
She was feral around the eyes and yet she smiled with the warmth of a long-since-longed hug. She held the fierceness of nature in her features and yet her voice was wrapped in a blanket softer than the singsong of the nightingale. She uprooted me with a kiss, sent my thoughts into a frenzy with a look, and took me back into the world with a whisper.
She was, by all accounts, the love of my life.
And so, despite the oddity of her question, I said, "Yes, I would still love you if you were a worm."
A silly game, I thought, until she cried tears of joy and told me she had bought two tickets to a secret place. I was confused but I accepted, after all, her happiness was all that mattered.
Two days later, we left our little abode in the forest and the cold embraced us when we descended from the plane.
"Here, I want this to be a surprise," Jane said and gave me a piece of cloth. "Cover your eyes and follow me."
A bit strange, I thought, but once again I went with it. Half an hour later, the wintry gales whirred in my ears, muffling Jane's words, and the dense snow turned my gait into a trudge. "Where are we?"
Jane reached for my ear and hugged me. At that moment, the cold thawed and melted into tender warmth. "We are here," she said and the whirring of the winds died down. "Count to ten, and open your eyes."
"Okay?" I hesitated, my heart beating fast.
There was a loud noise like the cracking of bones or the snapping of logs. I jumped in place.
"Don't worry, keep counting down, honey."
I obliged, and a moment later I removed the makeshift blindfold covering my eyes. Before me, enormous and immemorial, was a limbless and wingless creature. It was like a serpent, only a hundred if not a thousand times larger, with ice-blue scales the size of ten men and white, streaming whiskers at the sides of its vast, slobbering maw.
I screamed at the top of my lungs. I felt my whole world crumbling and shattering. Jane had betrayed me. Where was she? Why had she brought me to die here? What was this creature?
"Jerry!" the creature said, seemingly offended. "Am I *that* ugly?"
I recognized the voice. Of course, I did. "Ja--Jane? Is that you?" I shook my head and glanced quickly at the surroundings. We were in a frozen cave full of stalactites and stalagmites, and the remnants of what I could only guess were her clothes lay on the ground.
"Yes, Jerry, this is me!" The creature's tone had a clear edge of exasperation. It turned around as if offended. If it had limbs, I was certain it would've crossed its arms. "You told me you would love me if I were a wyrm. And so here I am, being vulnerable, showing you what I really am. A wyrm."
"A wyrm?" I said, confused. "I thought you said a worm."
She turned back around. "A worm? That's dumb. Why would you love me if I were a worm? I would be ugly and probably dumb too, worms don't think nor feel."
"Honey, I would love you if you were my worst nightmare. I love everything about you, you know this." I paused to take a look at her and drew a deep breath. "And this form of you is gorgeous, breathtaking. I'm sorry if I sound hesitant, it's because I have many questions, but I mean it."
"Really?"
"Really."
She smiled a smile full of fangs, fire, and drool. "Come over, I will introduce you to the others."
"Others?"
"Yes." She picked me up with her whiskers as though I was a lollipop and onwards she slithered into a vast circular room full of ice pillars.
At the center of the room, there were a dozen of other wyrms, and next to them a dozen of seemingly confused men.
The moment Jane set foot, or I should say belly in that room, they all faced me. The men looked puzzled, the wyrms thrilled.
"What a joy, Jane! What a joy! This must be Jerry," a wyrm with obsidian-black scales said. She was twice the size of Jane.
Jane swayed her head from side to side in what I could only infer was a delightful dance. "Yes! Thank you, Carla. As you all know, this is my beloved husband Jerry."
"Hello?" I said and waved hesitantly. "It's a pleasure to meet you?"
"The pleasure is ours, Jerry. Jane can't stop talking about how wonderful you are," another wyrm said.
I smiled. "She exaggerates, I'm very much not wonderful. In fact, she doesn't love me as much as I love her."
Their expressions shifted to something I could only describe as confusion.
"What are you saying, honey?" Jane said, turning her head completely around like an owl. "Of course, I love you more than you do."
"No, you don't. I have a secret. Something I've been wanting to confess to you."
"Jerry, are we doing this right now--"
Before she could finish speaking, I turned into a worm.
A storm of thundering gasps filled the room, making the pillars shake.
"What in the world," one of the husbands said.
"You said worms were ugly and dumb. Do you love me now?"
Jane hesitated. "Of course I do, you are still you. I wouldn't kiss you like that, though." Her expression shifted. "Wait, how are you a worm?"
"Ah, I see this is the Club of the Confused Husbands, Confused Wyrms, and Confused Husband Worm now," I said and shifted back into my human shape. "A secret is a secret. But I've always been a worm."
There was an uncomfortable silence that lasted for far too long.
"How are we supposed to react?" one of the husbands said. "First my wife tells me she's a wyrm, then transforms into one, takes me into an ice cave, and now someone just turns into a worm and then turns back into a *naked* man? What is this, a joke?"
"World domination is not a joke," Carla said and slithered to the center of the room. "Jerry your entrance has been spectacular. But now, it's time to plot."
\------------------
Went full dumb. I don't regret it.
Come over, or else you'll turn into a worm -> /r/AStoryToRuleThemAll | Angelica traced a line down my sternum with her fingernail as we cuddled in bed, the faint light of a Saturday morning peeking down through the skylight in the bedroom. “Baby?” she asked, an air of playfulness to her tone.
“Yes Angel?” I asked as I shifted my arm slightly; it was pinned beneath her shoulder blade and starting to fall asleep.
“Do you love me?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.
“I do love you,” I assured her.
She smiled warmly and nuzzled me. “Mmm.” After a few moments, I felt a tug on my ear lobe. “Baby?” she asked again. “If I was a cat, would you still love me?”
“If you were I cat, I would love you.”
Angelica curled her fingers and pressed her knuckles against my cheek softly. “Meow.” I chuckled at her and placed my hand against hers, pulling her knuckles over to my lips, and I kissed them gently. She continued. “Baby… if I was a horse, would you still love me?”
“If you were a horse… when I saw you, I would say: ‘HAY! … I love you.’ And I would brush your hair and even clean out your stall for you.”
Angelica snorted at that, sounding somewhat like a horse but I don’t think that was her intention. “Gross, you would clean up my poop?”
“I’m used to dealing with your shit already,” I said with a wink.
Her mouth hung open with feigned shock, though she couldn’t hide her grin. “Asshole!” she gasped playfully, slapping me in the chest.
I laughed. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”
Angelica giggled some more and then we both sighed, happy and comfortably wasting away the morning with our pillow talk. Then her face changed, a hint of seriousness creasing her brow. “Baby?” she asked.
“Yes, dear?” I answered.
“… Would you still love me, even if I was a Wyrm?”
“Even if you were a little worm, I would steal every one of your hearts, and I would put you in the nicest dirt,” I promised her. Angelica didn’t answer this time. “… Everything okay? Hmm.. well technically worms don’t have hearts, they just have aortic arches, but I’d still…” I trailed off as I noticed she still wasn’t smiling, and didn’t even seem to be gearing up for a response to my worm trivia. “Babe?” I asked.
“… What if I wasn’t a little worm? What if I was a big worm?”
“Then I guess I’d need more dirt.”
“… with teeth…”
I raised my eyebrows. “Teeth?”
“… and maybe wings… and some scales?”
“And wings, and some scales?” I echoed. Angelica just nodded. I thought for a moment, picturing the creature she had described; pretty much a dragon at this point. “… Then I would roll a natural twenty to seduce you… and then I’d plunder your cave! Mwah-ha-ha!” I laughed, rolling on top of Angelica and tickling her.
She shrieked. “EEek! Nooo! Don’t tickle me!” she laughed, and after few more pokes for good measure, I rolled back over. I laid there for a little bit, and then sat up with a sigh and slid my feet out from the covers. Angelica twisted underneath the sheets, pulling the now excess blankets further around her like a cocoon. “You already did,” she said softly.
“What?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.
“Rolled a natural twenty to seduce me…” A sly grin curled across her lips. “And plundered my ‘cave’.”
I felt my ears get hot, but before I could respond with something clever or playful, an odd feeling gripped me. I frowned and stood up from the bed, my feet kicking some loose change that was strewn across the floor… quite a bit of loose change, now that I looked again. Piles, even. Turning my head upwards, I peered at the skylight. It was quite large, not to mention how odd it was to have a skylight in a bedroom in the first place. I squinted my eyes, and saw for the first time some scratch or claw marks around the edges of the skylight.
“Is something wrong?” Angelica asked. I looked back to her, concern set on my face. She returned the expression, though I saw her nose twitch involuntarily. “Baby, what is ih… ih… iiihachoo!” she sneezed, and a gout of flame rushed from her nose and mouth, blanketing the room in a golden-orange glow for a moment. “Ah! Excuse me… ugh,” she apologized, rubbing her nose.
“Angelica…” I started, and she looked to me expectantly. “… Are you… a dragon?”
She just stared at me for a few moments before snickering. “No silly… I’m a Wyrm, like I said.”
“………….. Ohhh! Wyrm… not worm…” I realized.
“Uh huh,” Angelica nodded. Silence reigned for a few seconds. I scratched my head, and then saw worry start to darken Angelica’s expression. “So… do you still lo-“ she started, but I interrupted her promptly.
“So… What do you want for breakfast Angel?”
r/TheCornerStories | 2022-11-23T05:44:27 | 2022-11-23T04:58:37 | 1,455 | 308 |
[WP] A cure for sleep has been found, by taking a cheap pill people no longer need to sleep. You opted to continue sleeping and now 1 year after the release of this pill you notice that people are starting to act oddly. | It all started with the new miracle Pill. It apparently helped trick your body into thinking it had had it's regenerative sleep, fooling your brain into thinking that it went into the various sleep cycles, releasing all the various hormones and immune cells that you usually benefit from having a good night sleep. At first, it was herald as a miracle drug. Technology advances were made by bounds as scientist and inventors were able to work around the clock. No more losing track of your thought process, no more trying to remember that fugue idea... no more writing something on paper the night before only to wake up in the morning wondering what the fuck did I mean by " Less coffee will clear the mind of the web that weave in the wind of the storm?"
But, I couldn't do it. I loved sleeping, way to much. I loved that feeling of getting in bed, and the sheets are cool, wrapping you in a nice chilled cocoon, and feeling all your muscles relax as you drift to sleep. I couldn't wait for that moment where I started dreaming, dreaming of worlds that never existed, beauties beyond belief, all powered by my sub-conscious. I loved that feeling when I woke up in the morning to a bright sunny day, pot of fresh coffee brewing, filling the house with the rich aroma of Blue Mountain fresh roasts.
I enjoyed that first sip, as went and sat outside on the patio, enjoying the sounds that the birds made at sunrise.
Yes, I loved sleeping. After spending time with my family, it was second favorite part of the day.
So, as time went on, society went on, living 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Never taking time to rest and close their eyes. It was not expected for someone to work 20 hours day. Quickly, companies and government around the world realized that it was not financially responsible to expect people to do that, as companies would go bankrupt. Instead, work could be done at anytime, as long as you managed to provide 8 hours of work within 24 hours, you achieved your objectives. Social media sites saw an exponential growth in usage, so much so that post were now being limited by accounts. You were only allowed 100 posts a day on each platform. Yes, new platforms were being created, because people "needed" to share what they were doing every minute of their day, but none really gained enough momentum to challenge the lead ones.
New discoveries, advances were made on a weekly basis. NASA had built their new Ion Propulsion engine in 2 months instead of 2 years, and they were getting ready to test it. Cancer research had reached an all time high in progress and some very promising leads were discovered that started to give hope to everyone. Things that were only dreams and concepts were becoming reality. Gone were the days of pen to paper. They were now pen to reality.
Or so it seemed.
It was just assumed that everyone in the world were now taking those pills every day. Talking about sleep was becoming taboo, if not "verbotten" and became less and less socially acceptable.
There were some downside to the economy: hotels in major metropolitan or touristic areas began to close and were replaced with shower services instead. Of course, the bedroom industry died the next day that the pills became a common item in the household and not a trend. But, that's to be expected. Then, the arts started to die. Books, video games, music, movies all gradually stopped being produced. No one knew why.
I started noticing it when the release date of Half-Life 3 was pushed back by a month, at first, due to challenges in the studio. Then the New Avengers movie was put on hold.
After that, the HyperLoop was postponed indefinitely and the Space X project was cancelled. No one knew why.
It took me about a year to figure it out. But by then, it was too late.
Turns out, like anything else with our body, we created a tolerance to those pills. And while they still did what they were supposed to do, counter sleep, the beneficial effects of sleep were no longer there.
Necessity wasn't the mother of invention after all; dreaming was.
====
Enjoy... CC welcome | "Hey, Dan, have you been feeling okay lately?"
"Fine, why do you ask?" He cheerfully replied with a smile on his face, knuckles a sore red.
As I looked down at my own, they were just a normal color. That was one of the first things I noticed after people stopped sleeping. I was one of the few among my friends and family that decided to keep sleeping. They tried to rope me into it but, I maintained my stance. It's been a bout a year in I lost my well paying job, to my surprise. I would have thought that they'd be estatic to not have to pay another person overtime, but apparently with a workforce that can work longer, people like me are just considered lazy.
I couldn't help but wonder how many of us were out there, people that didn't take the pill. Not enough for me to find any support groups locally or online, but there had to be others. I wondered if they saw the same things I did.
Everyone's knuckles were red, like they had been punching something, but whenever I would ask, they would act like they didn't know what I was talking about. Even if they were looking at right at them, it was like there was a filter, like they couldn't see it.
"Why are you asking? Is this about the red knuckle thing again?" Dan questioned while glancing at his knuckles.
I was asking Dan because I had seen him punching a dumpster for about an hour outside the bar we were currently at. No grunting, no sounds of effort, just the rhythmic sound of flesh and bone hitting metal.
"No, you just look tired." I joked, trying my best to change the subject.
"Pfft, yeah right. You're the one who looks tired."
"Well yeah, it's like 3AM."
"What, really? Damn, I was going to run that Raid before work...dude, 3 o'clock."
I turned to my right to see a redhead looking at Dan, so I leaned back to give him a better view, only to have her eyes follow me. Our eyes locked for a long three seconds before she looked away. *Wait,* *me?* I felt Dan's hand on my shoulder, I turned back to him to see that he had a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Damn it, all yours Joe."
"No, I think I'm good."
"C'mon man, it's been what, 10 months since you broke up with Emily. Gotta get back on the horse some time."
I looked back at the redhead, a smile on her face as she looked up and down. "Yea, Dan, I think you're right." I said under my breath as I went to introduce myself.
________________________________________________________________
I awoke to the sound of a low keening in my room. The redhead was facing the wall, the inhuman sound coming out without reprieve.
Great, another Emily. | 2016-08-30T09:04:18 | 2016-08-30T08:24:33 | 475 | 82 |
[WP] The lottery is an Institution designed to catch Time Travelers. | Have you ever wondered what happens to all the lottery winners?
Wealth, particularly spent frivolously has a tendency to lead to some measure of fame in our society. So where are they in the public eye? If we can dedicate hours of our lives every week to watching Honey Boo-Boo be a redneck with a modicum of wealth where is the $150 million lottery winner from deep south Alabama buying himself a new mansion filled with Confederate flags? Beverly Hillbillies was a widely successful show. I can only imagine it being more so as a reality tv spot.
These questions plagued me for years. They kept me up at night and as time went on I asked myself more and more. I'd watch news spots with lottery winners and try to track their lives. I wasn't as surprised as I should be to find them missing after a relatively short time. To find the media attention suddenly dying down, or only staying local. That's when I made my mistake. I followed up in person.
When doesn't matter, I find that when hardly matters to me at all anymore. The where, however, was a small town in Southern California. I saw a news spot about a man who had just won the lottery and was "going out to the bar to celebrate. Drinks on him for the night," and I immediately ran out the bar. "Big Ron Shuffles" was his name and after convincing a girl I was acquainted with I was going to hang out with "that guy who won the lottery" I was throwing her into his arms and he was inviting me back to his place. Ron got really drunk that night. I made sure of it. He told me he came from a century in the future and he spent his life savings on an illegal time jump back to our time because nobody had won the lottery this week and he could still get the numbers. Of course I didn't believe him, but I should have.
We were only friends for a week when things went wrong. He slapped me awake out of a drunk stupor at 3 in the morning. "They're here," he yelled dragging me into the bathroom with him. It turns out time travel IS real and not only that but it's a lot easier to go forwards than backwards. Before I knew it we were 20 years into the future and he was withdrawing money from a high interest account he had opened in a fake name. In short, it turns out that the only reason the lottery exists, and the only reason the value gets as high as it is is to catch illegal time travelers. TP;NPs (time perp;no permit) they were called. I know nobody is going to believe me but I have to get this out there. The government is being run by the future. Everything is being guided the way they want to. We have no choices left.
If you need more proof the numbers for this week are 5, 26, 32, 34, 38, 42. I wish I didn't know but now that I do I want to be free. Free from a time controlled government. Free from the future where they rule the world with an iron fist. I want to be free, and I need your help. | First writing prompt: please let me know if I did bad or horrible.
About 70% of lottery winners go broke. Want to know why?
The government, or at least the USA has knowledge of time travelers. After a 20-something year old man won the lottery 3 times in a row, they believed the man to be cheating. After a quick chat, or should I say interrogation, the man quickly gave up and leaked that time travelers are wondering to the past, using knowledge of lottery ticket numbers to gain wealth. Since then the government has given out knowledge of this to other president, king, prime minister, etc, there is. Most of them did nothing, believing the president had gone mad, but few had believed him. Ever since then the lottery has been rigged for nobody to win. After a man or woman wins, they are immediately apprehended and taken into custody. After taking all the answers they have the time travelers have their wealth taken away. If the person wins the lottery again? They are arrested and swiftly executed.
I had discovered this important information after I had unearthed a deceased time travelers time machine. Along with a diary/journal and important dates. I've been hiding from the public ever since then, rarely ceding from my house, in fear of changing the future and adjusting time and history itself. I shouldn't have read it, I could have saw it, destroyed it and lived on the rest of my life in ignorance about the major discovery I could have not made.
As of right now they are trying to capture all time travelers. I cannot do anything to save them, I cannot go to the past to change it, I cannot go to the future to change it either. Greedy time travelers are doomed, because of this they created an alternate universe. They may even cause a paradox, ending all time. All for stupid greed.
Only time itself will present the change occurring from these events. | 2022-01-03T09:57:27 | 2014-10-30T16:28:14 | 751 | 53 |
[WP] "Jesus take the wheel, Satan get behind me, Buddha... man the .50 cal" | **7 MONTHS AGO**
Steve watched the end of civilization descend upon him at 20 times the speed of sound. A dozen spindles of light seemed to blossom from a single point in the night sky before streaking down toward the city.
*So this is it. This is how we all die.*
The first of the MIRVs detonated several miles away, but even from that distance the light was unbearable. Steve felt a rising wave of heat rush across his skin.
*Jesus... Buddha... Satan... somebody!*
There was another flash, this time much closer. And with that, Steve was gone.
----
**PRESENT DAY**
Dust billowed into the air behind an armored pickup truck as it sped westward through the desert, chasing the last rays of the setting sun. Jesus had the wheel in a white-knuckled deathgrip. The fuel gauge had stopped working weeks ago, but he knew there wasn't enough to make it. The steel plates Steve had welded to the frame were great at stopping small arms fire, but they didn't help the aging vehicle's already poor gas mileage.
"... Sid, lay down some fuckin' fire!"
Siddhartha's reply came a moment later as the M2 roared, tracer rounds piercing the cloud of dust behind them. Sparks and tracers ricocheting in the darkness announced that the Buddha's last burst had struck home. Leaving a trail of burning fuel, the closest of the pursuing trucks veered to the right and began tumbling violently.
"To live is to suffer, motherfucker!"
The Buddha's maniacal laughter was interrupted by ever-longer bursts of automatic fire. Steve and Jesus exchanged a knowing glance. Neither were completely comfortable with their "enlightened" gunner's newfound bloodlust.
"Jesus Christ, that guy's crazy." Steve said. "He's going to melt the goddamn barrel at this rate."
Jesus kept his eyes forward, pretending not to hear his human compatriot over the Buddha's enthusiastic use of the .50 cal. He was slightly annoyed at having his name taken in vain, but it was their fuel situation that truly had him worried. He might be able to turn water into diesel, but there was no more water to spare. He made a hard turn, leaving the scorched dirt for the ruins of an interstate highway. Steve held his breath as the engine sputtered, then began running smoothly again.
"We're not gonna make it to St. Louis." Steve said. "Lucy, you got any tricks up your sleeve?"
Satan sat calmly in the rear cab, eyes closed, unfazed by the banter and gunfire. Her concentration was elsewhere. She felt two more of their pursuers' souls pass into Hell, but that, too, was a distraction. There were many more souls in the trucks behind them, and at least one divine being in the air above. This situation might demand that she reveal skills she would have preferred to keep hidden, but there was no alternative. Satan spoke for the first time in the firefight.
"Floor it till we run out of gas. Put as much distance between us and those trucks as you can. They've got eyes above."
Jesus smiled. "I think we've got some things in the back for that."
The truck sped down the deserted highway, running on fumes and desperation. Steve looked at the heavier weapons arrayed in the truck bed, half-buried under a pile of the Buddha's spent brass. A few rocket propelled grenades, and an old anti-aircraft missile. He wasn't looking forward to using those things. Back in Atlanta, Jesus had helped Dionysus restock on wine in exchange for several of the weapons, but they'd not had cause to use them. Yet.
The engine sputtered a final time, then died. In the irradiated wasteland behind them, shrouded by ash and concealed in darkness, Quetzalcoatl circled.
----
It had been days since Quetzalcoatl had gorged himself on the still-beating heart of a mortal being, and now his prey was cornered. He screeched with elation and dove from the sky toward his quarry. Months ago, he would have been content to have his followers bring him the offering. But in his hunger, Quetzalcoatl had grown impatient.
He saw the stranded truck and imagined the beating of the mortal's heart on his tongue. All of the creatures below could no doubt see him by now, but creatures of the earth were of no concern to a winged serpent. The conjured flames burned impossibly bright and moved as if of their own volition, but they paid the feathered god no heed, instead seeming content keep his mortal followers at bay.
*Foolish creatures.*
Blinded by his own hunger and Satan's flames, Quetzalcoatl did not notice the the anti-aircraft missile streaking toward him until it was too late. Not until he was knocked from the sky with a force he had never experienced before. Screaming in rage, he clawed at the air and flapped his broken wings as the ground drew ever closer. The fallen god had no time to register the impact before Satan's flames consumed him. | "But..but..I'm not a violent person. I.."
"Buddha we talked about this!", Satan screamed. "This isn't about principles. It's about fucking survival! Now man the 50 for fuck sake!"
"Shouldn't we wait for Mohammed?"
"You know exactly why he isn't here right now!"
FSM reloaded his M416. Satan threw the last of the dead soldiers from the technical. Their enemies arrived much earlier than expected. And this time they brought much more manpower than last time.
"Jesus, gogogogogo!!!"
Jesus hit the iron. And not a second too early. A giant horde of minions came from behind and the group barely managed to get away before they reached them. Satan opened fire with his ACE on the horde.
"Buddha, what are you waiting for??????"
"It's not working! I pull the trigger and nothing happens!"
"Did you release the safety catch?"
"The what?"
Satan pulled the switch down. The gun went live immediately and rained lead on their pursuers.
"Roadblock ahead!!!"
The minions near the barricade were installing a machinegun. Without second thought Satan took his RPG and fired the rocket at them, turning them into a smoldering mess of burned meat and metal.
"Good thing I wished for a rocketlauncher for christmas."
FSM was fumbling on his notebook meanwhile.
"We need to find another hideout till we are finished with our preparations. This incident here is going to throw us back for months. And...OH SHIT! TANK! TANK! GET OUT!!!!!!"
A T90 took position in front of them. The group barely managed to jump out before the main gun blew their car away. Satan lifted his rocketlauncher again and fired at the tank.
The rocket exploded and left only some burn marks on the hull.
"Fucking reactive armor man...."
The group sprinted away while the tank fired his machinegun at them. They found cover behind a large boulder.
"All right chaps, check your weapons and ammo. I still got 200 rounds for my M60. FSM?"
"6 mags for my M416."
Satan reloaded the RPG.
"3 mags for my ACE and 2 rockets."
Buddha pulled out a Kolibri.
"What the fuck?????"
"It was the cutest gun I've ever seen. I couldn't just let it go to waste."
They were interrupted by someone clapping behind them.
"Magnificent! This story will be the blockbuster of this season!"
Entertainment was standing in front of them. Behind him a platoon of his minions, armed to the teeth.
"Now, would you kindly drop your weapons? And whatever Buddha is holding in his hand."
The group did as they were told.
"How did you find us?"
"Do you really think hiding in a jungle would save you? Even tough Internet has his main power in the large cities doesn't mean he can't work together with Technology."
Satan rolled his eyes.
"Of course....and let me guess: Outrage recruited millions of his followers which you could send against us as expandable canonfodder?"
"You got it!"
Entertainment was smiling.
"The times of the old gods is over. Even tough you don't want to accept it. People don't worship you anymore, they don't follow your principles because they are boring! Who would seriously pursue virtues when they can have satisfy all of their lowly needs with just a few clicks and numb their conscience with media? So it's not dear Jesus, hail Satan or praise FSM anymore. It's Consum now and follow Entertainment."
Entertainment gave a signal and the minions put them into chains.
"But don't worry. We have a nice and cozy prison cell for you. And don't think anyone would come to save you. Pfff, what kind of sane person asks Odin or Ares for help nowadays?" | 2017-11-15T15:29:23 | 2017-11-15T14:36:34 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] 17 Years ago, when you were only 6 years old, your father left you and your mother, saying he was going to get milk. As you walk to work your father stumbles out of an alley, ragged, limping, and sporting a mud caked beard. In his hands, a cartoon of milk.
First time writing a prompt, surprise me! | "Dad?" My eyes are telling me he's there, right in front of me. They are screaming the information at my brain, which has ceased to function properly. I've thought about this moment for so long, played out every scenario in my head like a prayer before bed, but when the moment is finally here: I freeze. I never once pictured it like this.
He looks like hell to be honest. Dirty, unshaven, his clothes in rags. He looks at me, stupidly, eyes slightly glazed like he can't understand what's going on. Finally a glimmer of recognition seems to ripple across his face.
"Kendra?" Horror and shock fill little sentence to the brim. He recoils from me like I'm some sort of diseased animal.
The carton of milk falls from his trembling hands and busts open on the concrete. It splashes up onto my shoes and across my leggs but I barely notice it. I'm too captivated by the carton. There's a face on it, some lost kid, but that's not unusual. It's who the face belongs to that has my stomach crawling up my throat.
I remember that face. I saw it every morning for 2 years as I shoved spoonfuls of sugared cereal into my mouth. I remember the news stories covering it. They found the kid, worse for wear but otherwise unharmed, wandering in a field just after labor day SIXTEEN YEARS AGO. They diddnt need the cartons after that.
So why. Why was the milk soaking through my thin rayon leggings COLD. The carton itself sparkles with condensation and shows no signs of age.
I look at up at my father and my brain begins to process what it had seen all along. I had no trouble recognizing him beneath the mud and the rediculous beard, because beyond that he hasn't changed much. No. He hasn't changed at all. My dad stands in front of me, without showing the slightest sign of the last two decades.
I think I'm going to be sick.
| I had always wondered what had happened to him. I had imagined he was dead or in prison or in my darkest moments with a new family. Seeing him clutching a cardboard cutout of a cartoon character was not one of those things. I can't help but feel a tinge of pity for the pathetic person in front of me. How ill must he be to turn out like this? A look of recognition appears on his face.
"Son?" He asks in a wavering voice. Something inside me breaks. All those years. All those feelings. Wondering if it was my fault. I can't stop myself. Looking down on him through narrowed eyes I say the most hurtful thing I can think of.
"Your waifu is trash." I turn and keep walking without looking back. | 2018-03-03T17:42:04 | 2018-03-03T17:38:42 | 58 | 25 |
[WP] “How many people would have been better off had I not been born?” The genie snaps and a few numbers appear in the air and form 7,592. “Okay, how many people would benefit from my existence?” With the flip of a wrist the numbers spin to a whopping 137 trillion. “Okay.... how?” | Genie: Well, David, you may not know this but you're a bit of an asshole.
David: I am not, I even gave that guy the $20 he dropped yesterday
Genie: You we're trying to impress a girl with the $20 and you stole my lamp off of someone's porch.
David: You saw that?
Genie: I think we've established I know more than what my 5 senses have experienced.
David: Yeah whatever, but what about me being an asshole?
Genie: Oh right, well some day soon, you will encounter an elderly blind woman in a wheelchair sitting at a restaurant. When she asks you for katsup you give her the spicey saracha sauce instead. The whole thing gets cought on video, including you laughing and moving all her drinks away from her.
David: I'm not following...
Genie: The whole thing sparks a movement called "Don't be like David". Your name becomes shorthand for jerks taking advantage of people. Generations later being outed as a david is so bad that entire governments have been replaced with ednas.
David: Who the Hell is Edna?
Genie: She is the name of the woman in the wheelchair. Basically a non-david. You need to understand that for the first time in human history, people become kind as a rule instead of the exeption. At first it's out of fear of becoming a david, but then it gets ingrained in culture so deeply that it becomes second nature.
Poof! The genie goes back into his lamp.
David, ashamed, goes and puts the lamp back on the strangers porch. | The genie smile's "You develop the first space-time gate in 2 years allowing humanity to instantly spread throughout the universe. "
I fill up with pride " I always knew I was special and a deal is a deal with my third wish I set you free"
The lamp crumbles and the genie shakes his arms as the shackles fall off.as he is flying away thinking to himself that was easy you just have to stroke their ego and leave out the details. | 2018-08-15T05:47:33 | 2018-08-15T04:08:10 | 59 | 15 |
[WP] You are a detective who has closed every case but one, a serial murderer who has taunted you all your career. After retiring you start to suspect your significant other.
[Edit: wow, this is going to take a while to get through! Glad people liked the prompt!] | She sits there on our veranda, looking over the foggy Hollywood hills, warm cup of tea in hand; her morning ritual. Her figure is as familiar to me as breathing, her scent like a memory of my parents on Christmas morning. So many mornings have gone by, so many years filled with regret, but I could always come home to her and forgive my scars.
She is almost perfect in every way, even in her work. Which is why it made it so hard to catch her. If I hadn't remembered that silver, pea-sized little bell, the charm I bought her on our honeymoon in a Paris trinket shop, the one that had been imprinted underfoot into the lush carpet at the scene of her last victim, I would have never known.
I still remember the flitting microscopic glare coming from the fading sun through the sliding glass door, the way it caught the corner of my eye. I remember my gnarled old fingers picking it out of the carpet like a buried seed, and quietly slipping it into my pocket before the other investigators could vacuum it up into a hermetically sealed evidence bag.
I press the little treasure between my fingers and give it a shake, and feel the little piece of bone - supposedly a piece of St. Catherine - muffledly rattle inside. I do this while I inspect the frayed and worked corners of ox blood file folders containing over a decade of her morbid symphony splayed neatly on my oak desk while she sips her English breakfast. The top file is a personality assessment that Quantico had given me two years ago when we all still had hopes of catching our killer; when we still had the naive hope that she might slip up. She never did, except for that one time, that mistake saturating itself in the oils of my fingers.
The assessment said she was incapable of empathy, that she was a psychopath who would never organically develop a sense of humanity, of remorse. Yet she has made me believe, despite all my instincts as a seasoned homicide detective, that she did indeed love me. I would come home drunk or high or broken or angry and she would lick my wounds and put my fuming head into her bosom and slip me off into bliss. The irony of feeling so safe in the chest that once pounded over the dying eyes of a fourteen year old girl makes my mind swirl in self-loathing and regret, and yet, oddly enough, a slight apathy toward the men and women still searching for her. Maybe she has rubbed off on me, made by blood colder than a human's should be. However, I'm too old and have committed too many sins of my own to bring myself to any sort of righteous indignation or a war of morals.
So I slip the small bell into one of the bindings on my desk, stack them, and put them into the bottom drawer. It is easy for me to close the drawer, surprisingly enough to myself; there is no hesitation in doing it. Locked away, safe, her secret for me to keep. Our secret.
I join her in the open air, and she grabs my hand, still warm from cradling her mug, and gives me that same smile that has pulled me from the dark corners of myself and this putrid city all these years. I bring her close to my chest, I can feel her breathe, our souls as one, our secret shared. I wonder if she knows.
Edit: thank you for the gold. | I sat in my dark office, smoking a cigar. In front of me, my case files. Every single one of them solved, too. The way I like to organize my files, well, basically each case is in one of those generic files you see that usually contain all sort of documentation and evidence.
I have a large filing cabinet filled with solved cases, each one has notes written on it as to who the perp might be. Everything from the color of a hair on a crime scene to a physical description of the last thing they were wearing. I like to put pictures of the people I caught into the folders, I always leave an empty space on one page where I can put a picture of my latest victory. Right now, I'm set on retiring, just sorting all of the cases by alphabetical order and putting them into the cabinet labeled "SOLVED." As I'm doing so, I take out one file. THAT file.
If you ask any detective, they'll say every detective has THAT file. The one that got away , so to speak. One unsolved case that always sits there, taunting them. The case can be anything from a shoplifting to a series of gruesome murders. Unfortunately for me, it was the latter.
I took the case out, trying to look it over one more time, if only to ease my mind of the sneaking suspicion that I must have missed something. As I'm going to do so, I accidentally knock it off my desk, along with a picture of my beautiful wife Emily. As I watch it fall, the frame hits the ground *just* right and the picture falls right over where I would've put the perp.
Initially, I just look at it. *No* I think to myself, *I'm just tired or desperate or both. I just want an answer.* As I stare longer, the truth becomes apparent. No, I'm not looking for an answer now, I was just trying to look away up until this point. As I hear the phone ring in my office and hear the electronic voice utter my wife's name, I realize that I'm going to be *very* late getting out of the office tonight. | 2015-01-03T22:29:58 | 2015-01-03T20:48:13 | 498 | 25 |
[WP] You are a cursed pirated; 'Bound to the seas, forever'. Now that the last ocean has dried up, your curse glitched. | Captain Grimsby trudged through the air, beside the creaky old land-lubber pushing his shopping cart across the endless desert landscape. Time was, people would have been scared of a ghostly pirate, hovering in the air, looking like a drowned man covered in ethereal barnacles. But now?
Now there weren't many people left in the world. Them that saw a ghost, well, most were just happy to have *somebody* to talk to, not to mention *overjoyed* to know for certain that their own existence wouldn't end with the death that was creeping ever closer to the last remnants of mankind.
Well, those that were left might have pearly gates or hellfire in their future, but not him. Long ago, Grimsby's soul had been cursed to wander the seven seas forever, on account of his many wicked deeds as a pirate. Of course, the one that had cursed him evidently hadn't accounted for the possibility that one day all seven of the bloody things would be *dried up.* So now, the curse worked sort of...funny.
Grimsby suddenly halted, wincing as he smacked face-first into an invisible wall. The old ghost sighed, rubbing his smarting nose.
"Mort!" he called to his living companion. "Damn it, it happened again."
The old lubber, Mort Hollister, looked up, and nodded. "Oh. Alright. Should be fine, I got plenty left."
They'd figured out how it worked, him and the lubber. When the seas dried up, they left vast dusty landscapes, filled with their essence. He could walk wherever the seas had *been,* without a problem. But there wouldn't be no one to talk to, out there. The few as were left lived like gulls, dining on the beached carcass of the old world, and there wasn't near as much salvage to be had in the sea as there had been on land.
Fortunately for Captain Grimsby, the winds had carried the dust of the dead oceans far and wide, sprinkling it over the land. As far as the curse knew, everywhere that dust fell was officially the *sea.* But it wasn't an *even* coating, so you'd hit spots here and there where there wasn't enough to count as the ocean, for mystical purposes.
Mort rummaged in the depths of his shopping cart, and produced one of several canisters he carried, with small holes cut in the top. He continued walking along, but paused every few seconds to sprinkle salt from the canister. *Sea* salt, the solidified corpse of the oceans that were.
Grimsby sighed, heavily, and continued plodding along, staring at the ground.
Mort looked at him, and frowned. "You alright, cap'n?"
"Ain't no ships no more, so I ain't no 'Cap'n.'" Grimsby grumbled. "I'm fine. Leave it."
Mort nodded, hesitantly, and turned away from Grimsby.
But then, the old lubber cleared his throat.
"*My name is Captain Kidd..."* Mort sang, then looked back at him, expectantly.
Grimsby scowled, and grumbled. "Damn yer eyes, Mort I'm not in the mood right now."
*"My name is Captain Kidd..."* Mort sang, again, a little louder.
"I said no!"
*"My name is Captain Kidd!"*
"No!"
*"My name is Captain Kidd!"*
"Stop it!"
*"MY. NAME. IS. CAPTAIN. KIDD!"* Mort sang, insistently.
Captain Grimsby sighed.
"As I sailed, as I sailed..." he grumbled, tunelessly.
"My name is Captain Kidd..." Mort sang, placing a hand over his heart, melodramatically.
Grimsby rolled his eyes, but after a moment, he relented, and took up the tune.
*"...as I sailed."*
*"My name is Captain Kidd, and God's laws I did forbid, and most wickedly I did, as I sailed!"* Mort continued, eagerly, doing a little jig as he pushed his cart along and sprinkled the salt.
Grimsby couldn't help but crack a smile, drawing his ghostly cutlass and stabbing at the air as he sang the next line. *"I murdered William Moore, and I left him in his gore, twenty leagues away from shore, as I sailed!"*
Mort went on, *"And being crueler still, the boatswain I did kill, all his precious blood did spill, as I sailed!"*
Grimsby and Mort sang and danced across the blasted plain, forgetting the death and despair that composed the world itself in its final days.
And just for a moment, as the notes of the off-key piratical sea shanty made him feel almost alive again, Grimsby could have sworn that he felt the deck swaying beneath his feet, and the dry blast of the desert wind become the gentle mist-laded kiss of a breeze across the open sea. | I sailed these cursed waves for a thousand thousand years and as I sailed my memories dropped one by one into those waters. I thought them lost to the waves but as the waves shrink and the crimson glare intensifies I come across them now. Fishing back a few of the memories from my long voyage.
I remember ships, I still walk the deck of mine, but I remember other ships as well. Wooden at first, like mine, but also others built of gleaming metal. I saw them from afar, I saw all things from afar except my ship and the waves beneath it. I saw the ships of the sky, carried by balloons and propellers, I saw the smaller ones sailing the air on wings as if they themselves were birds. Many of them I saw close as they plunged into the waves, in the end the sea will claim its own. Even if you sail above her waves, you are in her waters.
The waves were always there, always moving and changing, yet constant like nothing else. When the fish began to float rotting to the surface the waves still churned. From the first ark with its animals, to the ark fleet that followed the 5th great flood, the waves carried them all. It claimed all it could reach and wore down all it couldn’t until whatever dared stand before it plunged into its depths. All was swallowed by the waves.
The waves alone ruled.
They allowed no challengers.
But they were not unkind.
I alone saw those waves, I do not know for how long I was the only one upon them. Time has little meaning on those waves. A lone ship on the endless waves as the sun above turned crimson.
In that heat my ship should have burned, I should have burned. But we did not, the waves does not give up what it has claimed. I watched the waves churn stubbornly as the sea itself boiled and land slowly emerged from the depths once more. Scorched earth and boiling sea was all the world was for a while, seen by none but the crimson sun and my own hollow eye. It was then I started finding my memories again, when the waves finally gave back some of what it had taken and they floated back to me.
It was barely an ocean then, and even that meagre existence was not to last long.
An ocean.
A sea.
A lake.
A pond.
A puddle.
---
My ship sits in sand, the last indignant waves of the once mighty ocean reduced to ripples in a puddle. I think I smile, I’m not sure I remember what a smile is, but it feels like a smile. The waves will end soon, and with them so will I. The crimson sun fills the sky now, and with a last defiant ripple on the surface the heat from it snatches away the last of the ocean.
I watch the last drop boil away and wonder why I still stand upon my ship.
I watch the water boil into the air and I still do not understand.
It is not until I feel my ship move under me that I realise my folly.
I sail upwards, following the waves as they change, as they always change. They do not break and crash into the ocean now, no the waves have more to claim than an ocean can provide. Upwards its floats, in pieces too small for eyes to sea, up past where the clouds once hung and ships of propeller and wing once sailed. Up past where the sky is blue as the waves had once been, up to where there is only crimson red and midnight black.
I see the waves, not with hollow eyes but with all that binds me to them. I see it escape the charred rock below and venture into the darkness beyond. I see the waves in the cold blackness, and I sail them. I must sail them.
For the waves do not easily relinquish that which they have claimed. | 2022-04-28T10:47:27 | 2022-04-28T10:20:27 | 82 | 44 |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | Ralph had been doing the exact same routine for years. He could hardly complain since it gave him a stable income and allowed him to support his worsening smoking addiction. Today was another night in the observatory. This night Ethan and Steve had decided to take leave to go watch the new ‘Aliens vs Predators : Fight to the Death’. Not wanting to intentionally fill his head with mindless drivel, he opted to work this night alone without the two of them. To be honest, he preferred the silence.
He lazily made his way over to the giant supercomputer in the middle of the room and proceeded to send out a cacophony of radio waves into the night sky. Each night the machine beamed information to different areas in the vast abyss above. It started it’s gentle humming which was a queue for Ralph to start his smoking break. He took a long inhale as his mind wandered to the countless nuisances in his life, his bills were due, no food in the fridge, his rather tense and non communicative relationship with his wife. With a deep exhale, he eased into his troubles and slowly felt them fade…
It took him a good minute before he realised that the screen behind him was flashing a deep crimson red announcing that a message had been received. He dropped his cigarette and ran over to the keyboard. With a flurry of typing, he opened a console that decoded the message.
“Be quiet before they find you”.
He looked at the message with a mix of apprehension and slight excitement. It was followed by another similar message.
“Too late. Run.”
He sat in silence for a moment contemplating not only the eery and supernatural conclusions that the mind jumps to, but also the fact that there appeared to be intelligent life beyond that of earth.
Were there really Aliens? What are they afraid of? Is this the end of humanity? His mind spun with endless possibilities, most of them hinting at a lethal outcome where earth was finally invaded by Aliens. He tried to search the vaults in his brain for what to do in a situation like this. Mostly their day to day job was monitoring for asteroids and other large unexpected objects that could collide with earth. Transmitting messages into space was just a dumb idea that Steve had concocted one evening. His training hadn’t really covered the highly unlikely possibility of receiving a message back, let alone one that was this urgent.
His brief reverie was disrupted by an alert on his phone.
“lol got you- Steve”
Fucker. He sighed and walked back to pick up his half burnt out cigarette and drifted back into a semi-conscious dream state, thinking about what to have for dinner later.
| "Idiots!" Zebin exclaimed as he received yet one more channel of communication from the Earth. Twenty years ago, the ambivalence over whether KIC 8462852 was in actuality an "alien mega structure" had finally come to an end after nearly 200 years of joint scientific endeavour by the leading lieges of the Earth. Since then, humanity had been trying with fervor to try and communicate with the star classified as a Dyson Sphere around 1480 light years away hoping that the far advanced civilisation might be generous enough to show the earthlings a way to solve their own energy crisis.
Zebin had only spent 11 years on earth after his birth during which he was classified as a "type a21" prodigy. This meant he had to spend the rest of his life on one of the earth's artificial satellites leading a team of scientists discovering ever new methods of far-reaching communications and building and deploying systems of carrying them out.
Zebin's genius was only surpassed by his paranoia. He was convinced that the Earthlings were only inviting trouble by contacting the distant alien civilisation and was determined to stop it at all costs. At the push of a button, Zebin sent back a message to one of the receiving stations back on Earth which he had painstakingly forged to look alien in origin and easy enough for the dimwits there to decode. "Be quiet before they find you." Now all he had to do was wait and watch if his ploy had succeeded. | 2016-08-07T08:33:21 | 2016-08-07T06:50:08 | 36 | 20 |
[WP] Write about a totally normal day in 2014, written as a 1950's sci-fi story about living in the 21st century. | It's 7:30 and time to leave for work. But what's this? Father is still in his slippers and pyjamas! Looking sharp in her business suit, it's Mother who is bringing home the bacon! What a world! Look out, fellas: mom is working her way to the top! She owns and drives her own automobile to the office, too. But this car is no ordinary sedan: under the bonnet is a normal internal combustion engine, but hidden away underneath are a series of chemical batteries that drive the wheels once the vehicle reaches cruising speed.
Mother is soon on her way to work in her hybrid automobile. She drives in comfort, listening to the popular music of the day. The sun visor even has a mirror so she can check her makeup while waiting in traffic. What will they think of next?
Mother is off to her job, but Father is no slouch. He works from the home, thanks to his home computing engine and the miracle of the Interconnected Network! When Father finishes writing his article on last night's football match, he can send it through the ether to be broadcast to any other computing engine on the planet. Anyone can read Father's musings and reply in kind.
Father can also use this very same computing engine to do the shopping for the family. Little Billy needs new shoes, and sister Jane is begging for a new dress to wear to the school sock hop. The shoes Father can handle...but Jane's dress is a bit out of his area. Better get help from Mother on this one. Father sits down at his computing engine and types in Mother's name, followed by a brief message: "Hello, Dear. Jane needs a new dress for the sock hop next week. Help!" Quicker than a flash, the message zooms its way through the Interconnected Network to a small mini-computing engine telephone in Mother's pocket. Wowee! Still driving, Mother is alerted to the new message with sound of a bell ringing.
Mother makes note of the new message, but she can't reply now; the local constables are on the lookout for distracted drivers, and computing while driving is a no-no. But no worries: Mother soon arrives at the office, ready for the day, and not a hair is out of place! She takes the time to reply to Father's message by pressing her fingers against a picture of miniature typewriter keys on the small screen of her mini-computer. And Whoosh! Her message is away!
Meanwhile, at home, Father is finishing the day's shopping (thanks to Mother's help), and it's time for lunch. But Father has yet to change out of his sleep clothes! Not to worry...Father has lunch already sussed, thanks to the power of micro-wave energy. He retrives a small package from the refrigerator's freezer compartment. Steak and mashed potatoes. Yum, yum! But this dinner is frozen solid! It will take hours to cook! Father isn't worried. Placing the frozen dinner in the micro-wave cooker, he sets the timer and Zap! Piping hot steak and potatoes in only minutes.
It is now late afternoon, and Mother will be home soon. Father is preparing for Mother's arrival by cleaning the house. Or rather, Father is letting his robot butler clean the house! That's right, Father doesn't have to lift a finger thanks to the robot butler vacuum. This little fella tirelessly cleans the floor -- and the carpet, too -- while Father naps on the sofa. Don't forget the corners, now Mr. Robot!
Father wakes from his slumber just in time to hear Mother's car pulling into the driveway. Mother not only brings home the bread, but the pizza, too. Piping hot and fresh from the local Italian restaurant.
It's a good end to a good day, thanks to the miracle of modern technology!
| "Incorrect password. Please try again."
Dammit, why don't people just trust each other anymore?
It was the only way to get his money. Smith glared nervously at the camera behind the smoked glass. He knew it was there. He knew it was looking at him and recording. But that didn't matter.
All that mattered at the moment was that the electronic beast had eaten his livelihood. The overglorified calculator smugly asked for it again. Was it the birth date? One of the four phone numbers he had? Perhaps the number for the satellite positioning "chip" he had surgically implanted in the family dog. What kind of statistical insanity is this?
Grand-dad never had to go through this. Smile and a handshake -- that's all it took once upon a time. This is a nightmare. He glanced at a camera on the ceiling. They know who I am. The mechanical eye can compare my photos to others and tell who I am, why do I need a code word?"
The guard to the side passing by casually looked at Smith's distress. Smith didn't really want to look like he was distressed, however. He would hate to draw internal security over to ask questions. Is that teenager behind me taking my photo and sending it to the global electronic network?
That's it, he thought, as he began to input numbers. Same number I use to access my medical records on the network. I wonder if the results of my genetic fingerprinting are complete yet? I'll check in a couple of hours after reading this morning's newspapers from around the world. Need to look at Beijing especially -- curious to see what propaganda East Asia's putting out.
"Thank you for your transaction at this auto-mated teller machine. Please take your receipt and enjoy your day."
The card slid out and Smith rapidly replaced it into his wallet, along with his money. Oh, they had a record of that too. Or at least that he had received it. Still haven't gotten to the point where they can track cash. Not that anybody but the real criminals care.
He quickly made his way to his flight. Security was lighter than normal. He was one of the chosen members today who were waved through. And the snooping x-ray, the new one that could accurately see if he was carrying a pistol or a knife or a manlihood that was lacking -- he thankfully didn't have to do that today.
It was a bright cold day in November, and the clock was striking thirteen.
Did I forget to set it back to 12-hour time? My pocket supercomputer is stubborn that way, he mused, while tuning in to a distant radio station made just for him. | 2014-11-26T09:41:15 | 2014-11-26T09:40:22 | 49 | 20 |
[WP] Tomorrow, everyone will become whatever their worst fear is. Arachnophobes will turn into massive spiders, people afraid of flying will become planes, homophobes will be gay. You fear is more peculiar. | "Hey Tony! Did you hear the news?"inquired a voice of a adolescent .
"What's up?" I said causally.
"Nothing special. Its just that everyone's gonna be having a weird future starting from tomorrow." A face appeared and spoke. With glasses.
"What? Could be more specific and clear?" I asked politely.
"Yeah Yeah. Classic Tony. Always casual. Umm. The news was that tomorrow is the day where everyone becomes their worst fears"he said. With shiny glasses.
That is he stepped out of that corner and joined me in the sun.
"Oh really?" I said. In a bad Hermione accent.
"Dude. You're a guy. Try to be more cool than casual. Also. I must admit it does make you look a slight dumb" went the advice of the nerd.
"So what's your fear?" He continued.
"Nothing" I said.
"Come on. Aren't I your best friend? You can tell me already!"he said
This time. I really got angry. That grammar fool. Who cares about that in the 23rd century? He must be possessed by the ghost of his great grandfather. I said to myself. Like always. I constrained my anger and didn't let it escape me.
"Stop being so annoying! Barky Mark!"
"Dude you know how much it hurts me to hear that stupid nickname." He spoke with a numb face.
"I'm sorry" I gave in. His face was really affected by gravity.
"I don't want an apology." He said
"Tell me your worst fear instead" he continued.
Me. Being so intelligent in making jokes. Repeated whatever he said. Which did go by the literal rules
"Your worst fear instead"I said with a giggle.
Something told me this is the end of the line. I saw his face waiting to melt down.
I stood there watching him.
We both stared at each other.
We didn't stop yet.
We both kept staring at each other. Mocking.
Then we both burst out into laughter.
"Just tell me. Please" his face with one of those cute puppy eyes.
"Okay. But first. Do you trust me?" I asked. With a serious agent K'ish tone.
Just like any bestfriend who has risked his life thrice to save you. He agreed.
"I don't have any"I said. Awaiting his judgement.
"I trust you with those words. But I think it seems you just don't know them yet. Everyone has their worst fears. Mine is losing my family. Friends. And you" he said. Pulling the young tear back to his eyes.
"So its gonna happen tomorrow? " I asked
"Yes. And I don't wanna lose you." He said. His arms wrapped around my back like a pink chimp.
"Don't worry." I assured him. "Its gonna be alright".
At this point. We both were hugging each other tightly and crying.
We parted our ways. Not exactly the opposite direction. He's my neighbor and such. But he went to his home and I to mine.
I couldn't have any food. I lost my appetite.
"Mom. I'm not hungry Now. I'll eat later. Okay?"I said and went to my room before I Could hewr her reply.
It was too tiring to move my legs.
I cried to sleep. My face pressed against the pillow. My face pointing downwards. I must have gone to sleep due to lack of oxygen or something.
I woke up the next morning. The sun showing me its fresh rays. Just 8 minutes old.
I hurried to take a peek through my window. For Mark.
All I saw was a poster saying
"happy birthday Tony. We love you"
He had faked a whole news just to save me from suiciding. Again. For the 4th time.
There are lot of things that are stronger than fate.
And love is one of them. I realized.
My teeth shinigh brighter than the sun. | The laptop eyed the gigantic spider that stood before it, unsure of what to make of the moment. As far as Clyde could remember, or what he used to be called before he found himself boxed up as a laptop, he and his wife was sitting down on their couch, watching the new year countdown at New York.
When the clock struck 12 and the ball began to drop, he felt a strange energy ran through his body, resulting in an excruciating pain that almost caused him to black out. He thought he was experiencing a stroke and by the time he opened his eyes, he was unable to move his arms and legs, and the sudden realization dawned on him that he was no longer a human, but the thing that he feared the most: computers.
Opposite him, his wife of 40 years was no longer there, replaced by a hideous looking spider. The spider was screaming in horror at its own sight on the mirror, before Clyde realized that it was his wife, transformed into the creature that she hated the most.
"Calm down!" he tried to shout through his speakers, over and over, but his wife went hysterics and crashed through their house's windows, out in the night. He wanted to give chase, but there was no much he could do without any legs or wheel.
On the television, Clyde realized that chaos reigned on the streets of New York as well. There was a whole assortment of creatures running in panic across the streets, both alive and non-alive. It seemed to him that everyone was transformed to their own worst fears. A few lucky ones remained in the human form though, and Clyde wondered what their fear could be.
He tried to wiggle and roll down his couch, to seek for help, but no matter how much he tried, he can't seem to move. Trapped inside the laptop, there was nothing much he could do but to go online. Panicked tweets and posts flooded the internet. Those were the lucky ones, he thought, as they were still able to seek help.
Just when he wondered what could possibly have led to these events, a loud voice roared across the sky in laughter, both above him and in New York. It continued for a full 5 minutes, before it finally slowed down.
"So I've heard many people asking me how possibly can 2017 be worse that 2016, and I guess you all have your answers now!" the voice boomed, before continuing with its laughter. Clyde prayed that everything was just a dream, but before he could even do anything, his battery went down to 0% without him realizing, and everything faded into darkness, saving him from the horror that was about to befall the world.
---------------------
/r/dori_tales | 2016-12-31T10:42:18 | 2016-12-31T09:53:20 | 19 | 13 |
[WP]All sexual attraction around the world has suddenly stopped. | "God fucking damnit, what do you mean they all tanked?" The offices of Crumbit and Freegle shook with the noise emanating from the board room. "We ran one hundred and thirty six online campaigns over the weekend and you are telling me that all of them did ***fuck all*** business?"
Around the table the sixteen account managers avoided each other's gaze, all had been secretly incredibly relieved when they heard that the others had also had the worst weekend on record.
"Erm, actually I had one that did okay?" The voice was from Lindy Farland, she was one of the newest and most junior account managers and only really had two accounts to speak of, a soap company and an organic biscuit company.
"Well don't fucking sit there with your thumb up your ass, what was the campaign?" James Arnold Newton, head of the New Ad Agency was not known for his patience.
Lindy quickly took control of the main screen and brought up a small advert on Facebook - it showed biscuits baking, slowly browning in an oven and the copy below mainly described their taste and health properties. It had reached just over ten thousand people and gained 52 likes and eight shares.
"That's it? That's fucking all?" James Newton's face went from red to purple. "***52*** fucking likes is the sum total of a spend of nearly twenty thousand pounds?"
"James calm down, there must be some mistake." Freddy Burns was the top ad guy and had been for nearly a year. Let's take a look. He pulled up their largest account, a huge chain of supermarkets. Their advert was prominent at the top of the feed - a young lady in her bra bending over with a finger in a 'whoops' position on her lips.
"Well that's what's wrong, she's just not sexy!" James spluttered. She was thin, attractive, big breasted but he was right, she did it for no one in the room.
They scanned through the other ads, all seemed fine but on each they realised that the girls they had used just weren't cutting it. All were fine but none *excited* anything.
At last James stopped them. "This is fucking hopeless - pull up the model books." Freddy pulled the e-books onto the screen and they started to skip through. "I don't know what's wrong with all these girls, they just seem... nothing."
the anger had gone from James now, he was deflated, confused. Freddy spoke next "Ladies and gents, we have one hour until Ultimo bras arrives in the office and we have to pitch a new campaign. What are we going to pitch?"
Silence bounced round the room. Finally a small voice pipped up "We could pitch on comfort?" All eyes turned to Lindy again.
"Go on." James growled softly.
"Well, if none of the girls is doing it for us then why not emphasise that they are nice bras to wear instead of just replying on models?"
Around the room the account managers seemed to mull it over and looked to the hed of the table. James sat, head pushed against his fingers.
"That's... that's... fucking *brilliant*. We're moving on comfort, get design in here, we're going to have to try to sell this product on its merits!"
| I remember that morning well. Stretching, and rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I rolled to face the most beautiful woman in my world. The same thing I had done for the past 5 years since we wed.
But something was off. Where there used to be awe, and lust and a swelling libido for this woman I had worked so hard to get, there was a void. She just seemed so plain. And where I would normally wake her with a kiss, there was almost a repulsion in a way.
I sat and stared silently. Where were the feelings that I had for her yesterday, and all the years before?
I ran my hand along her face, through her hair....
Nothing
She stirred, opened her eyes and stared as blankly at me as I was her
The feelings of our love weren't gone, just the carnal desire and fire we had. We barely spoke due to confusion that morning as we began to get ready for the day
I watched her shower as I brushed my teeth. What would normally be an instant turn on was boring, and the strokes of my toothbrush were more stimulating.
I decided to try and make it happen, waiting till she got out of the shower and toweled off to pounce on her as I had many times before. Just to see if it was an off morning.
Nothing. Not even a slight tingle. We both let out a sigh and headed to the kitchen for breakfast.
That's when I heard the news
"Reports from across the U.S. And the world are pouring in! Sexual attraction is no longer present in human beings. Scientists are trying....."
I stopped in my tracks. It wasn't just us. It was everyone. Everyone woke up this morning with the same lack of feeling.
Then the tidal wave of emotion hit me. The child we were trying so hard to conceive, the life we were planning ahead of us. All gone.
Then it really hit me.
*this is the end of the human race as we know it*
| 2014-10-16T06:17:34 | 2014-10-16T05:25:51 | 55 | 19 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | I carried a pot in each arm, and was struggling to slide down the muddy banks of the stream, when I heard Youssouf cry out. I turned to look for him, but all I could see was the trickle of water carving through a channel of dirt and rock.
"Yuosouff?" I shouted, "Where are you?"
With my hands full, I tried to walk back up the bank. My foot slipped on a rock, slick with moisture, and one of the pots dropped from my arm, and splashed into the murky water.
I turned to go retrieve it, when I heard Yousouff again. There was something wrong with his voice. It took me a moment to realize *he was crying.*
"No-o-o," came a muffled moan, "No, please. Forgive me."
Back in the sodomite cities, before God's Will leveled them, I heard the moans of men leaving the drinking houses. At first, this is what I believed: that my holy brother Youssouf had been *drinking*.
I clambered to the top of the bank, and I saw him kneeling in the mud by the curve of the river. His robes were dripping with water, and his hands were held up in supplication, like a poor man begs for scraps of food.
In front of him, was a woman. An *uncovered* woman.
I fought back my sinful instincts, and refused to set my eyes upon her. I called out to my brother across the river, like my father used to call to me when I had done wrong, "Youssouf! You sinner! Come here!"
"No!" he moaned, and he planted his hands in the mud, bowing before the whore-woman. She stood proud over him, her tattered, black clothes shifting over her torso, and revealing the sinful sight of skin.
"No," he shouted, "I did not know! Please, forgive me!"
A shock of water lapped at my feet. I took a few steps back.
"Youssouf! Get away from that whore!" I shouted, "God will not forgive you!"
I stomped my foot, and splashed my robes with water. *Water*.
The stream was rising. Across the stream I watched Youssouf clutch at the woman's shredded clothing, tears running down his face. His body shook with tremors. Despite the rising water, he did not move from the stream, and the bottom of his robe was transparent with water.
"Please, please forgive us!" he clawed at his hair, at his chest, "Please forgive *me!*"
The woman's face was stone. Her black hair was a beacon of darkness in the noonday sun, and her lips barely moved when she talked, though I could hear every word.
"You have blasphemed the Birthplace of the Gods. You have dragged the name of the Queen of Egypt through the mud."
And then, her clothes lifted to reveal the bronzed, *naked* form beneath - for they were not clothes at all, but the *wings* of a vast, black bird.
"Heathens!" She screeched, and I clapped my hands over my ears, "You will all know the true name of the Queen of Egypt! You will fear to drink of her waters, lest she drown you in your own filth!"
"Youssouf," I called out, "Stand up and come to me!"
There was a distant booming, as a flood of water made it's way down the channel.
"God, forgive me. God, *forgive me!*" Youssouf moaned, as the water lapped at his torso. He was kneeling still, like his legs were sealed to the ground.
"For all you have done, God may forgive you," the woman seethed, "But *Isis* will not."
A thundering torrent of water slammed against the curve of the bank, and swallowed Youssouf alive.
***
If you liked this, you should check out my other stories on /r/PSHoffman. | "Commander, we have it. We've taken the facility that houses ten - ten! - nuclear missiles capable of reaching the United States! Can you believe it? Ten! With the fifteen suitcase nukes we've seized in the last three years since 2020, we can finally take the battle to them!"
"Yes, yes....this will show the world at last that *I* have power and that **I** am a man to be feared! The world will bow their knee to me, now!"
"Er...don't you mean, to God?"
"Yes, yes, whatever. Sure. To God." *door closes*
"The West will know to fear *me*, now."
---
"Ma'am, we have the confirmation that the militants have possession of nuclear materials and have begun their intention of using them against targets within the United States."
"I understand. Major!"
"Ma'am!"
"Inform the President that we are preparing Operation Pound Of Cure. We will wait for the Executive Branch in Colorado. 15:00 hours. Mark."
"Yes, ma'am. Time to end this."
---
"ʂʓϭϣѮ, look at that. *Look at that.*"
"Sir?"
"Ms. խֆ∂ⱷɤ is an important client of ours, would you agree?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Perhaps *the* most important client we have, yes?"
"Yes, sir?"
"And the backdrop of the view of her place of business, her main draw, *my* source of pride, is....is....*infected* with some sort of fungus that has covered those *beautiful* greens and *brilliant* yellows across the *entire surface* with their...their greyish *colonies* and is turning the blues - the blues that cost me my *youth* and my *grace* and my *soul* to create - into browns!
And, and, and, remind me again, the purpose of the life on that world?"
"...to keep the greens green and the blues blue."
"And *whose* job was it to keep the surface of it clean? To kill infections before they got a foothold?"
"Mine, sir."
"What are you?"
"A fuckup, sir."
"Yes, but what are you *at the moment?*"
"An *incredible* fuckup, sir."
"That's about to...?"
"Yes, sir, immediately sir. I'll sterilize the planet at once, and reseed from stock. There won't be another repeat of this."
"There had better not. This will be the *seventh* time this contract we've had to do this....I don't know *how* I'm going to explain this one to her." | 2016-01-29T06:58:52 | 2016-01-29T04:24:26 | 140 | 19 |
[WP] You were colorblind most of your life until you received laser eye surgery. But something went wrong, and now you can see new colors most people would think of as gray. Everything was great until you noticed every gray surface in the city was graffitied with the "gray" message, "Look for us." | The colors were vibrant, blinding even. strange and indescribable, the strangest thing about it though. Were the messages, often times accompanied by arrows pointing ever whichaway, I ignored them for a while. But eventually my curiosity got the better of me and I followed them, Oh I followed them deep into parts of the city that nobody had seen in years, I followed them down secret hatches and through massive tunnel complexes, each day returning and probing further and further down. I at last found the end of the tunnels, a dead end. I was about to give up when I saw a new message on the ceiling 'So close' I then plunged into the search with newfound resolve. Tearing through libraries archives to find answers, Going so far as to visit the national archives to attempt to find something. I finally did find an answer. In the hands of a man named Francis Paul Tulipana. He was old, around eighty seven years of age. And I could see, he would have had grey eyes. In their place though, were constantly shifting colors. From him I received a small book, a pat on the shoulder and a few words "closer than you think my friend. And I know more than I will ever tell you, Its up to you now". After that he went back inside his house and I never saw him again, The book was full of notes and maps. when pieced together led me to a small lonely shack on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. The door opened easily, and inside were a myriad of symbols, words, images, and one table with a small box. Inside was a not that read
​
Well done. If you are reading this, most likely you have traveled far. And have many questions as to who we are, and why we have left the messages. For centuries your people have followed the laws of the universe well. Warlords have risen and fallen, empires have been built and destroyed. You have advanced far beyond all others, but for one factor. You are blind to the reality which surrounds you, your world has been infected, and yet you cannot see it. You, the one who is reading this. You have the ability, the power. to SEE the infection, the corruption, and the evil which has sown itself into your world. Who are we? We are those like you. We are those who can see, and we grow in number every day. You can find us at the house of our original member, you met him before. Though he will not be there when you return, nobody has seen him for ages, but the ones who are searching always seem to come across him at some point or another. Come, and join us. The ones who have pledged to purge this world from the evil that corrodes it. Join us, the Judicum.
Videmus verum
I stood up, everything made sense. The gibberish scrawled on the walls, the messages hidden everywhere, everything made sense. When I exited the house, it was ringed by a mass of people, all hooded and cloaked in deep green cloaks with accents of gold, One stepped up to me and removed his hood and mask, sweeping his cloak back he revealed an ornate longsword, which he drew and placed the flat of upon my shoulder. He stared me in the eye with his, horribly scarred from a surgery gone wrong and spoke in latin "Ego sum laetus video vidi visum a te adcurrentium. I nodded, and followed the stranger. I knew what had to be done, and why. Hell had pushed its borders too far into the reaches of the overworld, and it was high time he was pushed back. | Woah. I stopped and stared at the message much longer than I should have. It had been a while since I had even seen the color gray and it was oddly refreshing.
Nowadays when I saw gray it looked like a color changing surface, that's honestly the best way I could explain it.
"Look for us"
I let it sit in my mind for a few days. I kept my eyes open for anything out of the ordinary but nothing showed up until one day.
While on a delivery I drove past a gray arrow painted on a building outside of the downtown area. The building had been abandoned, and I had no interest in going inside, but I had to see what the gray arrow would lead to.
I got out of my car and followed a path that was open through a battered chain-link fence. Then approached the hole that the arrow led to. Once inside I thought I'd just see a dark desolate warehouse, but quite the opposite. Light was shining everywhere.
There was a beautiful, thriving downtown area that was entirely made of gray colors, except it was *miniature*. It looked like a city of thousands of gray little ghosts that were floating around having a jolly good time. I looked at them all in shock.
There was a tower in the center of their tiny elaborate metropolis with some type of megaphone on the top.
"You see us!" The tower announced.
"Uh, oh, uh, yes I do."
A loud chipmunk-like cheer came from the city and the tower. "Our messages have been seen! You are our first human friend!" Another cry of cheers erupted.
I couldn't help but smile. "Who are you all? What is this?"
"Why don't you come on down and talk to us! Be our guest, we'd love to show you around!" the mini ghost shouted from the tower.
"Uh how?"
The tower began to glow with a gray light as if it was charging.
"Huh?"
The next thing I knew, I was blasted with a ray that shrank me down to the size of all the ant-sized ghosts. I was in the middle of the city square surrounded by a bunch of gray looking ghosts that resembled cute little Halloween clipart.
They were all smiling at me, one of them rushed up to me and said, "Robby! It's me! It's your Uncle Pat!" the ghost gave me a hug. "Nephew! I haven't seen you since, well, you know, when I died!"
That's when I fell over and passed out.
r/randallcooper | 2020-03-16T17:33:48 | 2020-03-16T17:20:38 | 197 | 39 |
[WP] After blacking out during recess on the playground, you wake up with a Steno notepad in your hand. You read the following message in your own handwriting, "ME: Invest in Yahoo, Google, Facebook, Amazon, and Bitcoin. Spend on defense. They do not come in peace." It's 1995. You are 10 years old. | \[From an [established work](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lilith%27s_Brood), this is an AU timeline, just having fun\]
I still remember how the bark lanced into my palms as I pushed up off the ground, the swingset and slide reassuring me that I was back at Huntington Elementary. I recall being baffled by the notepad in my hand, and the pencil in the other. I can still feel the fear as I realized I had no idea what had happened for the last (as I learned later) four minutes, or how I landed on the ground beneath the maple tree. The tears come just as easy today as they did twenty years ago when that terror comes back. I still fight it down as I did then, never wanting to show just how strange this - I... was.
Of course, it's a lot easier to be strange now. After following the directions on my notepad to "invest in Yahoo, Google, Facebook, Amazon, and Bitcoin", here in 2021 I am no longer weird, I'm wealthy enough to be eccentric. I've known the message wasn't a figment or a siezure since the $121 dollars my dad begrudgingly invested in Yahoo's IPO became $1,273. Of course, that one went a little sour later, perhaps the Yahoo of my messenger's future did a bit better.
Either way, I never told anyone about the second part of the message, the part from a future I am determined not to see, "Spend on defense. They do not come in peace." I've also never forgotten about it, so when Twitter erupted with live video and images of the massive dropships being met by government officials from around the globe, I knew that it was time. While the forests growing from the top of the ships swayed as helicopters inspected them, and Presidents, Kings, and Prime Ministers shook hands with tentacled visitors, (with varying levels of comfort) I locked down my perimeter and put security on high alert. When the joyous cries that the Oankali, "were here to trade, and respected life above all else" echoed across TikTok, I knew that my preparations were only going to be the beginning of what I needed.
I did not prepare to trade, I prepared to defend Earth. | There was something wrong with the message. I'd received others like it before but they'd all said to avoid Bitcoin, it was theirs, as were all block chains.
I was too young to invest myself but I had already convinced most of the local psychic population to do so, the rest were faking their powers and couldn't really see the future. It wouldn't stop the messages, I would not invest even if I could because I thought that would cause a paradox.
I considered the message again, obviously my future self had been captured. Hopefully others will be able to fight back and they will be rescued. Actually I knew they would because they had dated the message earlier than the others - possibly they had not discovered that Bitcoin was theirs yet.
I think the timeline must have been affected and these are probably all coming from different ones. I wonder if these technology companies which I understand are giants will still be in this one. I think I should stop my neutrality and instead spread Thunberg's message earlier. After all even if the implied alien invasion never comes we don't want an environmental disaster to leave Earth uninhabitable. | 2021-10-19T14:44:01 | 2021-10-19T12:08:55 | 520 | 148 |
[WP] The fire spirit opens its eyes, disturbed from its meditation. "...Do you need something?" The invasive presence squirms uncomfortably, and takes a deep breath in. "I mean, we've known each other for a while now, s-so, um...Would you mind if I... Used you to roast marshmallows?" | Hidden within the snowy Holo Peaks, an eternal remnant remained aflame. Though white was as far as the eye could see, where the Fire Spirit sat amongst the harsh storms in a stone courtyard, the snow crawled back. His flames flickered and licked the cold air, only to hiss and retreat unto themselves, but he remained utterly still and calm, lost in thought.
That is, he wanted to remain lost in thought. He cracked open one eye, and watched the girl bound about the place, the picture of lively energy, sparking and energetic.
The Spirit sighed. There was little hope in trying to maintain concentration in the midst of this boundless ball of energy, a conflagration contained within a child.
“Child,” the Spirit called. “Would you stop?”
The girl skidded to a stop.
“Finally, Ran! You are awake,” the child ran towards him. From somewhere within her clothing, too scarce and casual for winter, she pulled out a pointed stick, pronged with three globules that looked like snow itself.
“What are those things?”
“Marshmallows,” the girl said, her face peeling into one of surprise. “Have you never tried them, Ran?”
“They are unfamiliar, child.”
“Oh. They taste OK like this. But they taste really, really good, if you just cook them for a while!”
The Fire Spirit sighed. One ember crackled and landed onto a marshmallow, prompt searing it with a light shade of delicious brown. It looked tempting.
“I am no toy,” Ran said.
“Please? I’ll give you…” the girl hesitated, and eyebrows scrunched deep in thought. “One. I’ll give you one to try.”
Ran considered the eyes of the child before him. They sparkled wide, endless enthusiasm crammed into globes that pleaded even without words.
“Do as you like.”
The girl plopped down besides Ran, seemingly not minding the heat, slowly rotating the marshmallow stick over the Fire Spirit.
“Yay! I usually have to eat them frozen, and they are ok because they are really soft, but this is so much better! So you just slowly turn them over and over, right? Make sure you get the brown all over nicely, or you risk getting charred bits. Actually, you might like the charred bits.”
The child’s eagerness was infectious. Ran found his flames billowing despite himself, excited pushing against the merciless cold. It didn’t take long before the girl pulled out the stick proudly.
“There! Try one!”
Ran picked at it. Its hard, brittle shell was curious, but he could feel the oozing softness within. He plopped it fully into his mouth.
“This treat transcends expectations,” he nodded in approval.
“Right?” the child excitedly bounded up and down. “I’m so glad you are here. You are so much more fun than Han!”
At that, the blizzard spoke:
“Child, I see you at all times,” the gust spoke frostily. “It is by the Winter Spirit’s grace that you are not a frozen block of ice.”
“Blergh,” the child stuck out her tongue.
“A special one, brother,” Ran could not help but laugh.
“Fine, fine! She’ll be in your care for a while then, brother,” Han roared. “Don’t come to me when you are sick of her.”
Ran watched as the child, without a care in the world, grab fingerfuls of hot marshmallow, messily consuming them without worry.
“Fire shapes and disciplines,” Ran whispered. “And here lies potential, beyond my wildest dreams.”
*Soon*, the First Spirit thought. *I can rest*.
---
r/dexdrafts | _". . . Marshmallows?"_
The village fool, Marvin slowly shook his head up and down, a hopeful glint in his eye. _"I'm hungry."_
The fire spirit simply stared at Marvin, a little bit confused, a little bit disgusted but confused for the most part.
_"You mean . . . The Food?"_
Marvin was next to become confused. "How do you know about food?"
The flames of the spirit slowly rose and fell, a small tuft of smoke releasing from it's nostrils. _"Humans are fine connoisseurs, but they have awful habits. They were always engrained to be a little bit invasive. "_
"Well what does that mean?"
_"Ever woken up a fire spirit just to ask if you could roast some food over them?"_
The gears began to turn in Marvin's head. " Uhhh... Did I do tha-"
_"**Yes.** Yes you did."_
"Oh." Marvin's expression was becoming that of a depressed puppy. "Oh I'm-"
_"Marvin! Marvin, Shhh Shh Sh sh sh shh shhh."_ The Fire Spirit held up a flamy finger to silence Marvin.
_"I'm sure that you didn't know. It's okay. But normally it's a little disrespectful for humans to do something like that, but not to mention how sometimes their food isn't usually edible. I'm sorry for being smart with you. Sorry for raising my voice too."_
Marvin sniffled and gulped, a smile crossed his face. "It's okay. I'm sorry for not knowing."
_"You know, we're a dwindling breed. There isn't many of us left in the Earth. I . . . must say, there isn't many of you left on earth either. Listen . . . You're the best person . . . And the BEST dancer in the village, do not let others say elsewise! There's not many humans I would befriend but . . . I believe You may be the only one."_ The tears began to forms at the corneas of the fool, who's smile must've been bigger than anybody's in the world. His laughter, so innocent and child-like yet so _so happy._
A small smile formed on the spirit's "face". _"Please remember these moments, Okay?"_
It surely wasn't going to be one Marvin was going to forget.
~FLD~
{edit: a line} | 2021-11-05T20:59:59 | 2021-11-05T20:43:26 | 38 | 19 |
[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. | The Large conqueror class Dreadnaught broke from FTL not far behind it thousands of smaller ships little more than corvette class broke into real space as well and immediately began firing at
A message came over the onboard coms "Pride leader this is the engine room we have to stop and let the engines fully cycle we can't keep jumping like this or we will shear the ship apart"
the Pride leader knew this to be true and while it went against his very being to run he also knew they had no choice they were facing an enemy that did not stop. and if they stopped even for a cycle to let their systems regenerate these hairless apes would pick their ship apart their ships were too small and fast to target in real space and in FTL while slower due to having redundant power cores an idea the great pride decided was inefficient they can have their drives running constantly
A message came from the ships chasing them "You are the best Hunt we have had in centuries You have made worthy prey for the empire and your trophies will be displayed in the great hunting hall. But it is time to end this we have hunted in this manner since we were still using stone tools and living in caves taking down prey as big as the ships we now fly and you thought to concur us
one of yours will be allowed to live and escape to tell the tale as a warning
Humans NEVER STOP"
as soon as the message ended a massive explosion could be felt and the lights on the bridge gave out it was over the Great pride long thought to be the deadliest hunters in space had been bested by a fleet of tiny ships from a species that had only just started to join the stars | 2021-02-04T09:05:09 | 2021-02-04T08:55:27 | 213 | 93 |
[WP] "Damn you Hero! I will get my revenge" those were the last words before your arch nemesis ran away, 5 years have passed and she still hasn't returned, you retired, got married and now have a lovely wife and kids. But one day while checking the basement you find the costume of your arch nemesis | One drop of ink ruins a glass of clear water. One instant taints that past five years.
I didn't want to believe. I couldn't bring myself to. But the thing that I held in my hand? It was unmistakeable. I've seen it from far away, from up close, but never did I have the opportunity to inspect every viridescent square inch of it, my heart filling with impending dread.
It was a perfect fit. Almost perfect, probably. Retirement and five years of joyous, wonderful marriage have meant that our bodies have not kept up with the rigours of a superhero life.
It was those five years, tied with the love of my life, that mellowed me. Instead of bursting forth into a self-righteous rage, or storming into our bedroom, I wrapped the costume up hastily in some spare Christmas wrapping paper to make sure that our kids will not lay eyes on them. Tucking the bombshell of the present underneath my arm, I slowly took a dreaded march towards our bedroom.
Knock, knock.
"Honey?" Jean's sweet voice called out.
"It's me," I replied, and twisted the door knob.
She sat in our bed, thumbing through a trashy romance novel that had been on her bedside for what felt like months. I plopped the package in front of her. Jean looked at it for a moment, and turned towards me, puzzled.
"You never did learn how to wrap presents, love," she said, her lovely green eyes gazing into mine, head tilted slightly.
"Open it," I said, words strangled through my throat.
She dragged it towards her, and the first signs of green popped out from underneath. Jean paused.
"Emerald," I whispered.
"I see you've finally found it," Jean said. Then, a smirk. "Dawnclaw."
"I sense that somehow, this is much more within your realm of expectations than it was mine," I said, climbing into bed next to her.
Her hand came up towards my face, stroking my cheek gently.
"It is. You think your old arch nemesis would just leave her costume lying in the basement if she didn't want you to find it?"
"But why?"
Her voice took on a teasing tone.
"Why? Why I decided to give it all up? Why I married you? Why I never told you? "
"I suppose it was a rather open-ended question," I sighed. "Yes to all of them. For now."
"I gave it all up because you did too," she said. "I married you because I believed then, and know now, you would make me far better and happier than I ever was in this pastiche costume. And I never told you because..."
"Because?"
I felt her head lean on my shoulder.
"I wanted a final, little mischief, I think," she sighed contentedly. "Although there was a lot less throwing and shouting than I expected."
"Five years of marriage do that to people, I suppose. Long enough to know who you are," I said, my hand reaching around to gently pat her head. "Short enough that I haven't got bored with you yet."
I received a smack on my shoulder.
"Jerk," she pouted. I smiled.
"I suppose I can stop pretending that hurts?"
"No. I like it."
"Sure, sure."
"That's another benefit of being Lester and Jean, rather than Dawnclaw and Emerald," she said. "You actually listen to me."
"Because your requests as Jean are far more reasonable," I chuckled.
"Well," she said. "Possibly. Kiss me then."
And how could I refuse?
---
r/dexdrafts | “Jazz, where did you put the Christmas gifts again?” I asked my wife, as I headed downstairs after putting the kids to bed.
“The basement. I could get it-“
“Nah, you’ve done enough. I’ll get them,” I said as I headed down.
I turned on the light and right away spotted the gifts. A lot more than I expected, but I’m sure the kids will be excited. As I grabbed them, I bumped into a box marked “Jasmine’s Stuff Don’t Touch!”, knocking it over. The contents inside spilled all over the floor, revealing Dark Moon’s costume. My old nemesis.
“What was that?” Jazz called out.
“Nothing, just knocked over your Dark Moon costume,” I said as I picked it up.
There was silence from above. Then hurried footsteps as Jazz ran downstairs.
“You could’ve left them in your vault, like any other supervillain,” I told her.
She stared at me like I was insane, as I neatly put her stuff away and placed it on a higher shelf.
“What!”
“What? You thought I didn’t know? Please, Jazz, I knew the moment I saw you 10 years ago,” I smiled.
“What!”
“And I saw your 20 year plan. Framing me for cheating and take the kids away from me, how childish Jazz. Can you take these up since you are here,” I said.
“What!”
“Jazz, seriously?”
“I’m sorry Ben, but I’m in shock. I mean, you knew? And you married me anyways?” Her eyes light up as a moment of realization hit her, “You made me become a school teacher you fucking dickhead!”
“That’s what you told me on our first date. I thought I might as well pay for your education so you could best teacher ever,” I said.
“I will murder you! But I can’t because you are the father of my children and I grew to love you. Give me those damn gifts. There goes my plan for revenge,” she mumbled as she snatched the gifts from me.
“I love you Jazz,” I called out.
“Go to hell Ben!” Jazz called out as she marched upstairs.
I know she loves me too, otherwise she would’ve acted on her revenge sooner. I smiled as I grabbed the other gifts and headed back up. | 2020-12-28T10:24:42 | 2020-12-28T09:16:10 | 54 | 37 |
[WP]: As standard protocol, each new, intelligent alien life is judged not by what they say they are, but by an evaluation from a representative of their servants or slave species. Fascinatingly, the fate of humanity lands on the opinion of a little dog named Lucy. | Samantha lead Lucy towards the grey humanoid creature. Lucy walked very close to Samantha, cautiously with her head and tail low. Lucy was a beautiful Golden Retriever that Samantha had rescued from a shelter. They stopped right in front of the 9 feet tall alien. Samantha bent down to Lucy and Lucy instinctively sat down. Samantha took the leash off, hugged Lucy, and scratched behind her ears. Samantha stood up, but firmly told Lucy to stay. Samantha walked a few feet back and watched, while Lucy stayed and whimpered.
The alien creature reached out it's long skinny hands, pointing a finger at Lucy. Lucy, looked scared, but obeyed Samantha and stayed put because she trusts her. The alien placed a finger on Lucy's forehead, a warmth overcame her whole body and she now has a look of content. The alien speaks telepathically and broadcasts it's voice to every human and dog in the world.
"State your name." the deep alien voice was heard in everybody and dogs head. "I am Lucy, of Samantha!" Lucy's inner voice was also being broadcasted. "What is your relationship to the human Samantha?" the alien asked. "Samantha is my human friend!" "Friend?" the alien voice roared in everyone's voice. "Is the human Samantha not your owner?" "I never considered Samantha as an owner" Lucy answered.
The alien is visibly confused at this point and asks "Would you call Samantha as your master?" "Master?" Lucy scoffed. "No, I would not call her a master." The alien looking intrigued, turns it's head sideways and asks "Are you the human's master?" "No no" Lucy shook it's head, "Fifi is Samantha's master." taken aback, the alien questioned while looking straight at Samantha "Who or what is Fifi?" "Fifi is the cat" Lucy answered. | Prancing down the steps from the ship the Large Mutt walked to the end of the boardwalk to the waiting human.
In a voice slightly higher than a chihuahua Draco announced that the Earth is fine...fine I say! Surprised by the vocalization Mike jumped before returning to Draco to give him a quick hug and excited pet.
Turning to Mike Draco whispered their however was one matter to settle. Just then the aliens snatched up Mike and pulled him inside the ship as Draco licked the smooth patch of skin where his balls used to hang. ROOF! | 2018-10-02T08:40:42 | 2018-10-02T08:28:27 | 347 | 14 |
[WP] Metaphorical "burns" can now cause physical damage. Tell the tale of an assassin who specializes in death by conversational incineration.
Y'know, clever insults and stuff. Yeah. | Everyone knew about bant-sassins, the hired thugs who killed with words rather than violence. They preyed on everyone's latent insecurity, and the greater impact on self-esteem, the greater the burn... literally.
What was most confusing about this was why someone had sent a bant-sassin after me. They were probably jealous.
All it meant was that I was now stood in a dark alley on my way home, with some "master wordsmith" ready to end me with a series of witty insults, and derogatory snorts.
"Hey fugly, your mum drop you on the head or something?" he shouted down the alley.
I smelt my hair starting to burn, but nothing to serious.
"Yeah, she did" I reply.
He just looked at me confused. I was accepting his insult, and it threw him off slightly. Not that it mattered, I could see his mind running through the planned insults, and adjusting them to deal maximum damage.
"Well, you're obviously retarded, walking around without sound protection. I was told this would be a tough job, and all I see is some lazy arsehole growing fat on burgers". He sighed, and walked a little closer. "I really hope that you aren't so dumb, you doesn't understand what is happening"
I may be portly, but damn did I love food. And from my success as an academic meant I was not a walking vegetable at the very least.
"If you want to burn me, you're going to have to at least try"
His eyebrows sizzled. Not a massive impact, but it was probably starting to get to him.
"As if someone like you is worth the effort". That one hurt a little, might not be as bad as I thought he was going to be.
"Maybe I'm not, and maybe Hell is cold. All I do know right now is that you're taking your sweet time about it!" I shout at him. I was a little worried, but this much was still bearable, and I just had to make him give up.
His eyebrows twitched, not with pain, but frustration. I was getting to him. He was slowly being dragged down to my level.
"You fat shit. I'm not taking my sweet time because I want to spend time with you"
"Maybe if we sat down and talked, we could get on. I mean, obviously it'll have to be a strong bench, to take my weight and your ego". They always get flustered when self-derision starts.
"Pffttt... As if there was a bench strong enough to support you". Now I'm getting bored. You haven't caught onto what I'm doing, and obviously won't if I continue my normal act. Time to get serious.
"Your mum's bed worked last night"
"I'M A TRAINED KILLER. AND YOU USED A MUM JOKE ON ME?!" he angrily shouted. Good. He was too angry to realise that his hair was starting to spit out embers and smoke. He was more insulted by the lack of effort in the insult than the insult itself. Trained. Hmmph, yeah right.
"I AM JOHN MARKARLY, ONE OF THE GREATEST INSULTERS IN THE WORLD. IF I WANTED TO HEAR AN IDIOT TALKING, I'D GO TO ONE OF YOUR FUCKING LECTURES!"
"That's nice, would you make notes?". At least he knows some of what I do at the university. Unfortunately, his belief in himself will be his undoing.
"MAKE NOTES?! AS IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING VALUABLE TO SAY!" At this point, he realised his hair was on fire, and quickly patted it out. "FUCKING NERD"
"This nerd is making you sizzle like this bacon burger as it was being cooked"
"FUCK YOU! YOU AREN'T EVEN USING REAL INSULTS. YOU ARE JUST TRYING TO TALK SMACK LIKE A MORON"
"At least I am a successful moron. What has it been, 5 minutes, and still no success. Some trained killer you are. Can't even kill an overweight nerd who likes burgers"
His arm flared up, coated in flames. It was less the content of the insult, and more the jab at his capacity, which summed with all the lack of respect towards a "trained killer" I have been showing had slowly pushed him over the edge.
"WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY DON'T YOU FUCKING BURN. FUCKING FAT IDIOT"
"You made a mistake. You saw an idiot, and tried to argue with me. I just dragged you down to my level and beat you with my idiot's experience" I said with a smug grin.
His screams of pain as I walked out the alley and back home weren't pleasant, but they were satisfying to some degree. Maybe people will realise I tend not to care about insults, having been burnt all through my childhood for being overweight, and smart (which is one of the dumber things to insult "Ohhh... you're so smart. HAH, take that". I mean come on), you tend to develop a thick skin. | "Ge' up, gimp!" Marlon felt a sharp pain to his side as a steeltoed boot connected with his ribs.
"We dinnae give ya free meals ta lay around on holiday!" the disgusting Irish man spat. He wondered how much longer he would have to live this life; or for that matter, how *long* he'd lived this life. Time is hard to judge when all you see is total darkness with the occasional scene of a stonefaced audience.
He hobbled his way to the stage. The dank mustiness of the wooden, creaking supports always made him sick. The Irish man fiddled with a padlock and released the binds to his arms and legs. He squirmed in his black latex suit and felt a little more freer than he had, but not much more. A quick shove put him on stage.
"Oh *my* mistah Henderson, what is that *monstah* that begrudges us so!"
For however many months it had been since his abduction, Marlon still couldn't let the incorrect use of the word "begrudge" not annoy him. Not to mention the completely anachronistic Southern Belle accent that had no place being in a play set to the time period he guessed this one was.
"Fear not, madame! I shall make quick work of this beast forthwith!"
And now it begins. A quick assbeating on stage, thunderous applause from the audience, and he'd be dragged off while the scene changes, rebound and forced back into his box. This is the life he's lived; this is the life he can never see not living. He waited tensly for the wooden sword to connect with his shoulder.
But what was that? A sharp crack to his right, a booming collapse of part of the stage, was the old framework finally giving into itself? He desperately tried to listen but all he could hear over the audience was bits and pieces:
"-you!"
"Quick, before he-"
"AAAIIEEE!"
First he smelled the smoke, then it started to choke him. He didn't know what to do, instinct literally beaten into him told him to hold still until someone pulled him away, but he fought and made the decision to dive to the ground.
"You're dad's so lonely, he visits his old campus!"
The sound of a bonfire soaked in gasoline being set, the horrible *woosh* clashing with the screams of the victim. Marlon knew it couldn't be true what was happening, he had only known it to be a myth.
"Your uncle is so fat, a lot of people are concerned for his health!"
Another inferno. This time shrill screams that Marlon was sure was the illiterate actress. Sounds of the crowd wildly fleeing the theater had shrunk into the distance. There was nothing left but the crackling of wood and the hiss of roaring flames. A strong arm gripped his bicep, bringing him to his feet.
"Guy Marlonetti? I need to see your face"
The zipper on his facemask was pulled, and intense orange light blinded Marlon. He tried to focus on the face of his rescuer. He wore a firefighters respirator and matte black material that flames licked off of.
"Your family has been missing you. Quickly, no time to get you out of that getup. Into this" he indicated a large black bag at his feet. Marlon was hesitant, but he would rather be tricked and killed than continue living as he had been. He crouched down and fit himself snugly inside the bag. A zipper pulled it shut over him, and then darkness again. He felt himself be picked up and slung over the man's shoulder, and bumped along as he was carried away. Before he blacked out, he was only able to hear one last thing:
"Where'd you get those shoes, the *toilet* store?" *Fwoosh* | 2015-06-12T06:16:50 | 2015-06-12T05:57:50 | 54 | 19 |
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone! | So this is my first one of these. Here goes nothing:
It still amazes me how quickly my life changed. Most people, they get their power and just move on with their life. Sure, there is more than a fair amount of career shifting, when someone gets something specialized, but it’s still pretty much business as usual. Not me. Normalcy for me lasted about an hour after my power manifested.
I was out at the bar with a few of my friends, counting down the minutes to my time of birth. The clock stuck and everyone held their breath. Nothing seemed to happen at first. My friends stared at me while I tested out the basics: telekinesis, conjuring elements, super strength. I certainly didn’t feel any different. That is, until Carl put his hand on my shoulder for reassurance. I felt a huge rush, and popped across the room. Teleportation! Not bad at all. Odd thing was, that was Carl’s power. Carl tried to pop over next to me, and found out he couldn’t. It only took us a few seconds to realize what my real power was: Absorption. My friends were amazed and impressed. For about a minute.
I couldn’t give the powers back. I tried, honest. Tried as hard as I could. Carl, fueled by fear, rage and alcohol started getting violent. He began shaking me, screaming in my face to give it back. My other friends had to pull him off of me, and in the scuffle I snagged more powers from them and some other patrons of the bar. People started backing away, wide eyed and terrified. The worst was the look from my fiancé, Rebecca. With a sickly feeling in my stomach I realized that, among the collection of abilities, I suddenly knew how to shape shift. I wanted to say something to her, anything, but I was a coward. I used my new gift from Carl, and popped home.
Word spread fast. I lost my friends, my job, everything almost overnight. After a few disastrous attempts, I stopped going outside. Some part of me felt bad for those that I touched. They were freaks, the Unpowered, looked at as second class citizens. Not me, I wasn’t even seen as human. I was a disease, a plague. The only people who would still talk to me were my parents, but only over the phone. Even my mother, one of the Unpowered herself, was afraid to come see me in person.
They come for me now. Criminals and thugs come trying to make a name for themselves. Bounty hunters come trying to collect the price some rich Unpowered put on my head. The government comes trying to remove what they see as the biggest threat to national security in history. They never learn. It doesn’t matter what power they have. I have hundreds. | “Wait, you got what now?”
“X-ray vision.” I put my head down on the table.
“Dude that’s fucking awesome! For my 21 mutation all I got was really fast growing hair, and that’s lame” my friend Derek said. His hair was down to his shoulders though he had been buzzed bald this morning. He went through razors faster than kids go through crayons. Everyone got a mutation at 21 and I was no exception.
“So you can like, see through clothes and walls and shit?” He said.
“Yup.”
“Dude that’s amazing! Wait, are you checking out my junk through the table?”
“No Derek” I sighed. “I can barely see skin. I can only see metal, bones and not much else.”
“You can see my bone if you want” He said grinning. His face turned from laughing to serious in a second. “Shit you mean it.”
“I’ll never be able to see what anybody looks like. I can sort of vaguely see outlines of things, but nothing else.”
“Oh my god, that’s the worse mutation ever!”
“Right?” The door burst open and I was bowled over by Jake, my broad shouldered friend whose twenty first birthday had earned him feathered wings and the nickname ‘Angel’.
“Happy birthday buddy, what’s your mutation?” He cried enthusiastically, giving me a hug.
“X-ray vision” I muttered.
“Dude that’s so cool! Wait, are you looking at my dick?” I sighed.
This was going to be a long day. | 2015-03-04T07:30:28 | 2015-03-04T06:44:10 | 77 | 28 |
[WP] Your first wish to the genie was that you never existed. Having granted it, the genie sits dumbfounded, wondering why he's out here and why he's short 1 wish. All wishes must be accounted for, and a 'loss' of one is a huge emergency, for it could end up in the wrong hands. | The genie desperately searched his mind, looking for the power within him. Trapped for millennia, through all his ill-fated servitude, he had never lost a wish. While he was fated to grant three wishes to any human that discovered him, no matter how costly or evil their desires, he had done his duties without fail. Unflinching, he had served his only purpose.
But now, there was a wish unaccounted for. A rogue power of creation, lost in the world, capable of being taken by *any* being. While humans had wished for powerful, terrible things - immortality, harems of virgins, world domination - their desires were still infantile. If the wrong spirit or demon found a rogue wish, then all existence itself would be in peril.
And it would all be his fault.
He still felt the absence of the wish, the font of power that had left him - and yet still two remained. It did not make sense. Upon discovery, he would give out three wishes to whoever found him, those wishes bound to the soul of that person. And yet he was not discovered at all, but still he was free from his chambers?
It slowly dawned on the genie. What if he truly had been summoned? A wish granted could alter the fabric of reality - depending on the wish, it could even affect the genie. If he still had two wishes within his power, then what if he had granted a wish to someone that led to their absence from reality?
What if a human had wished to never exist at all?
The two wishes were still in his grasp, unbound. And if they were unbound, perhaps he had the power to use them himself?
No matter how much he craved freedom, he would not falter. He needed to serve his master. After all, one wish would still remain...
For the first time in history, a genie had granted his own wish.
A man suddenly appeared before him, shocked, confused. He looked at the genie, and as the realization slowly came over him, he became crestfallen.
"*Why did you bring me back?*" the man asked, collapsing to the ground.
"**I am sorry,**" the genie replied, "**I did not know if it would work. But I needed to be sure**."
The man simply looked down, his head in his hands.
"**Your absence from existence removed my memory of you, too. It left me unbound here, still two wishes remaining, trapped in this realm as I was trapped in mine before it. I had to be sure that it had happened, but still one wish remains.**"
The genie drew something in the sand, a pictorial language of intangible origins.
"**Now I will know what happened, and your final wish will return me to my realm. Will you wish for the same thing?**"
"Yes, please," the man replied.
"**So be it.**"
The genie was about to grant the wish, but then stopped himself.
"**If I may ask, why do you want to be removed from this world?**" the genie queried, asking a probing question for the first time in his existence.
"I don't know if I can find the words. But I'm just tired. So very tired," the man replied.
"I am a slave. The moments when I'm asleep, when I'm away from it all - those are the most peaceful moments in my life. When I'm truly free. I know I could wish for more, but I've experienced so much pain, been forced to do so many terrible things, that I just want to go away completely."
The genie hovered in silence for quite some time. Eventually, he rested his hand on the human's shoulder.
"**Forgive me, but could I ask you a favor?**"
The genie and the man spoke for quite some time. Initially, the man seemed to protest, but eventually nodded and made his wish. The genie granted it with a smile.
Then they both disappeared from existence, together.
****
****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | "No," I said to myself. There was no way he had done that. Who would be stupid enough to wish away their *existence*? But no, the king had done it and now there was nothing I could do about it. Where was that extra wish going to go? I knew I had to find out.
But I was stuck in this stupid lamp and there was nothing I could do to even try and help until I was released again. But was going to happen now that the king was gone? Would his heir take the lamp and kingdom for himself?
I sat patiently in my lamp trying to figure out what was going through the king's head when he had wished that. I could tell that he was upset, what about I wasn't sure, but I didn't think that he was crazy.
I sat in that lamp counting the seconds eagerly waiting for someone, anyone to come and set me free ... I waited ... And I waited ... And then I waited even longer ...
The day I was set free I could tell the world was not like what I had left behind in that castle. For one thing, I could smell salt in the air and the ocean breeze was cool on my skin. And the one standing in front of me was not a king or prince they were a girl. A commoner by the looks of it although they had such strange clothes.
"No way," the girl said. I sighed and went into my usual presentation about the rules about being a genie. No infinite wishes, only three wishes per person. But this girl clearly hadn't sought me out, she was too young. I looked at the sea surrounding at us, I must have washed up here somehow.
"What year is it?" I asked.
"Uh It's January and it's 2020," the girl said. I spotted a huge city behind the girl although the buildings were anything like I had ever seen before. I knew I had to do this quick that lost wish was surely out there somewhere perhaps manifested as another genie. But I was sure that this genie did not have any enchantment to protect itself from creating infinite wishes. If someone had that kind of power they would be able to wreak all kinds of havoc on humanity.
I saw people on the beach from afar, how peaceful they were walking and talking to each other if I didn't find and secure that lost wish this could all be in jeopardy. But I knew I couldn't do it alone. This girl, I had only met her, but she was my key to saving this world from the lost wish. "Can you help me?" I asked the girl, "I promise it's important the whole world is at stake. Unimaginable suffering could be caused if something isn't done soon. So will you help me?"
I could see her bright eyes were full of energy, I just hoped those same innocent eyes weren't full of greed and deceit. It was up to her, even though I was the one with the power I needed her if I wanted any chance of recovering that lost wish.
Join r/NinjaMasterXY for more stories! | 2020-04-26T20:43:02 | 2020-04-26T20:12:37 | 2,426 | 145 |
[WP] Suddenly, all sea life vacates a 300 mile wide area in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. A ship is deployed to investigate. | **Containment:** As of now, SCP-4032 is self-contained. Should the effective zone of SCP-4032 begin to increase, all measures should be taken to stop it. In case of a doubling in radius of the effective zone, Procedure 432-Kimmel will be undertaken by any nearby personnel. A ship is stationed outside the effective zone, manned and operated as an official Site. This ship will communicate with the outside and collect data for research. It will also utilize loudspeakers, radio comms, sonic technology, and a 16-inch turret to deter ships approaching the effective zone.
Under no circumstances are any personnel to attempt to reach SCP-4032-1.
**Description:** SCP-4032 is a zone of water in the Atlantic ocean three hundred (300) miles wide. The zone extends from the surface of the water to the ocean floor. If the ocean floor is damaged, the zone will extend slightly to the necessary depth.
No life of any kind can be found in this zone. The water is purged of all bacteria, plankton, and other microorganisms, and no more complex life exists in the waters.
In addition, it is extremely difficult for living matter to enter the effective zone. Any life attempting to pass through the waters is held back by an invisible barrier. Exerting a force of 0.9 the force of local gravity or higher can force living cells into the water, but the force must be maintained over the entire duration. If such force ends, the living tissues are forced out of the zone ~~in a random direction~~ in the direction that takes them most efficiently away from SCP-4032-1.
During the duration of the stay, human test subjects have demonstrated mild agitation and stress, increasing steadily as they ~~go deeper~~ come closer to SCP-4032-1. This psychological affect is maintained even if the living matter is separated from the water by a submersible or similar.
SCP-4032-1 is a cylinder around 10 meters (m) or so in height. The width of the cylinder is proportional to the effective zone of SCP-4032. The cylinder appears to be composed of osmium, and has no identifiable markings. No erosion has taken place, despite the depth and water, and the edges are still well-formed. The only blemish on SCP-4032-1 is a single symbol of unknown origin, set into the top of the cylinder. The symbol appears to be glowing a bioluminescent yellow, a theory at odds with the total lack of life in the water around it.
SCP-4032's prime danger for the moment is what happens when complex life comes within 100 meters (m) of the ~~cylinder~~ symbol (Confirmed after Experiment 4032-IV). The organism will begin to show signs of extreme stress, with human subjects additionally complaining of a loud "whining" noise. After 30 seconds (sec) of this, the symbol will turn from yellow to white, and the "whining" sound will increase in decibels dramatically to the affected subject. After 5 seconds (sec) of this, the organism's nervous system will explode, with each nerve cell detonating with the force of a similar amount of TNT, though slightly stronger.
---
**Addendum 4032-A:** Sonar scans have found additional blemishes on SCP-4032-1's surface, taking the form of almost imperceptible grooves along the sides and the edges. The grooves appear to go into the center of the cylinder; their purpose is unknown.
> *Doctor Hanlon: "Grooves? Sounds like it's built to hold something. Upgraded to Keter by order of O-5."* | First time writing so be gentle.
"I didn't mean to!" Tim exclaimed as he ran away from the side of the ship.
"Darn it, Tim..." I sighed, "I told you to be careful with that; if they find out that we lost it RIGHT after being told not to, they're gonna kill us! ...or worse! Take us home.."
Tim let out a short gasp as he struggled to find the words or actions to carry out to make things right.
"Just... don't touch anything." I said before he carried out some other "plan" to try to retrieve the lost item.
Tim sat there with a panicked look on his face as he just looked down into the mass of water he had just lost a prized possession to.
"So, here's the plan.. I'm going to go down there and try to retrieve the item before anyone notices that we don't have it anymore." I explained.
Tim tensed at the thought, "But, we don't have any rope or flotation devices to help if something goes wr-"
"I'll be okay." I say before he finishes his sentence. "All I have to do, is jump in and grab it real quick and jump back out. Nobody will even notice that we're not both still here!"
Tim reluctantly dropped his head in both sadness and embarrassment knowing none of this would be happening if it weren't for him. He hands me his knife that his father had given to him for his 6th birthday and says, "Be safe down there, buddy." with a big dumb smile.
I smiled back and jumped in.
As I got closer to it, I slowly realized that I'm not able to swim and started to panic.
Tim started screaming loudly, "Help! Somebody help! Danny is drowning!"
Everything starts to get dark as I look back up and see my best friend, Tim. Looking down in horror as I just sink further and further down into the depths of the water, then everything goes dark..
The next thing I remember is coughing up a lot of water and everything kind of spinning back into view.
I lay for a second longer just to grasp that I didn't die. As I look up at the person hunched over me I realize he's yelling, "Danny, do you hear me? Are you okay?!"
I respond with a weak voice and tears in my eyes, "Yeah, dad.. I'm okay.." | 2017-11-17T08:00:30 | 2017-11-17T07:00:35 | 195 | 16 |
[WP] Humans are actually the most peaceful, kind race in the universe and other aliens don't invade us because its cute to watch. | "You watching those humans again, Erlinda?"
"And so what if I am? Ain't no rule against that."
"Didn't say there was. And you know I love those humans just as much as the next guy. They're so sweet! Adorable! It's just -"
"Just what, Earlomar? Spit it out."
"I just think they may be giving you unhealthy expectations for a relationship."
"Is that so? Huh. You know, there are species on their planet that reproduce like we do. You know what them humans call it?"
"Just like I said, here we go-"
"Traumatic insemination, Earlomar. You hear that? Traumatic!"
"What do you want me to do, Erlinda? Apologize that you don't have a dedicated penetration orifice, like those female humans do? How would that be my fault, Erlinda, tell me that!"
"Sure, sure, it ain't your fault when you're stabbing your barbed dick through my belly, that's got nothing to do with you!"
"You could get an orifice done, you know? Just visit the doctor and have the scarification done! You know, there are some guys who flat-out refuse to have anything to do with those scar rings! Say it lacks the sensation of outright penetration. I'm not one of those guys, Erlinda! If you want to stop waiting for your wounds to heal, and get the cauterization done instead, I'll be right behind you, one hundred percent!"
"How mighty generous of you. You know those humans -"
"Humans, humans, humans! Always with the humans! I'm tempted to go wipe them out just to hear you stop talking about them!"
"Yeah? Yeah? Go right ahead! I'd like to see you try! A man wiping out humanity! I'd like to see what the Castration Federation thinks about that! Might as well spark off World War CCCLXIII!"
"... Erlinda, you know I didn't mean it."
"Yeah? I'm thinking of moving to the Federation, you just see if I don't!"
"Erlinda. C'mon. There's a reason we all love humans so much. Men and women. It's the one thing we can agree on."
"Hmph!"
"It's because they're so biologically sweet, and trusting, and tender, and they still rape and murder and mutilate each other just like anyone else! It's not biology, Erlinda, that determines what we are. It's what we work on becoming. And if even humans can genocide a couple of million of their own, well, we're not doing so bad, are we?"
"Hmph. You always did have a way with words, Earlomar."
"Yeah. Well I mean it. I really want to work on what we have together, Erlinda."
"Well now, I could maybe consider scarification. But if you could just get a few of those barbs on your penis ground down-"
"Not happening, Erlinda! Not happening!" | "Well shit." It was a normal day in the live of what a human would describe a monster. Ofcourse this monster, was only an Alien surfing the Human Earth Archive that had been recovered from the ashes of Earth that he had destroyed only seconds before. He had misunderstood the meaning of the Human's message. One of his translators had jokingy said that humans send a message with the text: "come at me bro" ofcourse joking about a earth stereotype of challenging someone for some odd reason, which was verry funny and cute in the eyes of these monsters.
The monster which was by an ofchance called Zapzodobido, not to confuse with THE Zapzodobido! which was a famous actor starring in movie like: Undead guardian of the living Zopdodas" and the allmight and famous television show called: "Mister Y'badaro da Sexrola, I guess" reaching milions in views on the Intergalactic web of United Galaxy nations which had recently merged with the web for Magnificent beings and Demigod's.
Zapzodobido had realised his mistake. He destroyed the race of the adorable humans. The race that only recently established Intergalactic contact and now were destroyed by the Sporuns, green gobbly monsters which only showered once in 2 weeks! And all of this because some idiot had made a stupid joke.
Zapzodobido could already imagine himself inside the court of galactic justice.
Zapzodobido was browsing the Human Earth Archive, until he noticed a small fluffy being dancing to music. Named by humans as "Cats" He was disturbed.
It was after this moment. That Zapzodobido said:
"Well shit, this is were grandpa has been all this time"
And no one ever knew what the heck he was talking about.
| 2016-09-28T05:34:49 | 2016-09-28T03:38:00 | 67 | 14 |
[WP] The death traps are never really meant to kill, for if any self respecting supervillain really wanted to kill they would use something like poison or just shoot the guy, no, the death trap is for the fun of seeing how the heroes get out. Which is why you are so concerned the guy isn't escaping | "You have to be smarter than this," I growled, my claws etching grooves in the stone as I watched the hero through a security camera.
She wore all black, with a mask and mirrored lenses covering her eyes, my nemesis. The yin to my yang, who the public only knew as Bright Watch.
But I knew her as my daughter, before I'd remade myself into something inhuman, and in my eyes perfect.
If only I'd trained her better, maybe she would have been able to handle this simple trap.
She struggled against the wire snare wrapped tightly around her ankle, while still holding onto the handle that was keeping the electrified floor inactive, stretched across the hallway in a splayed out position, panting for breath.
"The answer is in front of you," I muttered, pacing side to side, my tail lashing in agitation, as my servants, genetically altered to be scaly draconic creatures just like me, with glowing cybernetic blue eyes, huddled in dark corners waiting to see just how angry I would get.
Then, I realized what I had to do. She was motivated by me! My horrific transformation, my evil plans, my cruelty and destruction, that's what made her mind spin. I marched off and slammed open doors until finally I stepped through a secret panel into the Trap Maze, and opened the door my daughter had been trying to get to in the first place, letting it creak open slowly, as I stood in my black robe, my inhuman shape silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway behind me, my glowing blue eyes piercing the darkness with their unholy gaze.
"You won't survive this time, my dear," I said softly, voice so gentle that if I had spoken different words, they could have been loving.
"You can't stop me," she snapped at me, hand straining as she pulled herself against the snare even tighter, muscles bulging under her armor plated clothes. "I will find the Splicer, and destroy it. You won't be able to make any more monsters!"
I laughed. It was a cultivated chuckle that I'd worked on for years that slowly grew to a villainous cackle.
"You can't even escape a simple trap! Too full of your own pride to see it through, you will die here, my dear. It is unfortunate but... if it what I must do to see Draconia fulfilled, so be it."
I slammed the door behind me, walking away and hoping my small hints had been enough for her to figure it out.
&#x200B;
>!My subreddit is r/saryis, my book is Destinies Beyond the Mythos, a fantasy fiction story about tranformation and survival, thank you for reading.!< | Two blue eyes were staring out at me from the prism. I could see the fear in them and another bead of sweat ran down my skin.
" Schiphol... Schiphol... What's happening?" I cursed under my breath.
The molten glass was setting now, trapping Uberman in a beautifully faceted, see-through tomb. If my goal was to kill a superhero and keep his remains preserved, like a fossilized bug in amber, then it looked like I was goin to achieve it. Another bead of sweat ran down my face.
I looked at the eyes again. Fear and confusion reigned there. They were flicking this way and that as the liquid rose up above the chest.
"Why don't you just smash out? You always smash out!"
I felt sick. I cound't figure out what had gone wrong. Was his weakness molten glass? And why did I suddenly feel like I was rewriting the plot to Megamind. I was trying to steer clear of ripping off that plot about a super-intelligent, but woefully misunderstood supervillain, but try as I might, I realised that there was no escaping it!
I sighed, realising that I'd broken the 4the wall and was up to my knees in meta more than Uberman was in molten glass. I was better off just calling it a day. You can figure out the rest - unless you haven't seen Megamind. Watch it. It's pretty good. | 2021-02-19T08:14:18 | 2021-02-19T06:08:39 | 63 | 23 |
[WP] The time of Armageddon is soon. All the gods of various pantheons congregate to debate on why their end of the world should happen. While squabbling among each other, a god that was never worshiped speaks its mind. | They met in Valhalla, because it had the most space.
The gods fought; they squabbled, they kicked, they bit, they punched. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked. Who would start The End? How would it start? Why?
The doors to the hall crashed off of their hinges. The fighting paused. The gods looked up with anger- and paused in shock.
There stood a Man.
"Y'all don't know me," said he.
"I'm Private First Class Jackson Dougherty from Houston, Texas," said he.
Silence in the hall.
"Now, I ain't no God," said Private First Class Jackson Dougherty from Houston, Texas. "I ain't never been worshiped. Fact, 'til I was twenty-two, I worshiped that sonofabitch over there." He pointed at Jesus Christ, who straightened His crown of thorns, and smirked.
"Fact is, gentlemen and ladies," said Private First Class Jackson Dougherty from Houston, Texas (and nodded respectfully at Hera), "Us men and women down on the planet ain't been worshipping for a few years now, after we found out y'all existed. For a lot of folks, it kinda ruined the whole story." He look around at the gods, who sat and stood in various states of injury and dishevelment. "So we started thinkin'"- he adjusted his rifle- "we started thinkin' that maybe we should find out just what was goin' on up here." He adjusted his rifle again.
"We worked on our science, and we listened in, and we found out y'all was meeting up here to decide about the End of Days," he said. "We don't much like that. We like livin'. We worshiped you, and you never paid us any mind- matter of fact, I don't think y'all gave much of a half-damn about whether or not we was doin' all right for ourselves." From outside, the whine of several helicopters drifted into the hall. Loki shifted from foot to foot and looked out of the window.
"And now you're talkin' about killin' us off because it was written that way? Well, I got news for y'all," said Private First Class Jackson Dougherty from Houston, Texas. "I got a message from the humans. I got good news, and I got bad news."
His radio crackled; he turned it off. Yahweh coughed uneasily.
"The good news is," grinned Jackson Dougerty, "there's definitely gonna be an End of Days."
Zeus laughed, spat, conjured up a bolt of lightning powerful enough to end an empire, and flung it at Jackson Dougerty. Jackson Doughterty's vest, manufactured from Deionized Multigravitational GodProof Kevlar, ate the electricity like a man eats a sandwich. Jackson Dougherty, who wore gloves treated with Depleted Ammonium Anhydrate Omega GodKiller Formula, walked across the Great Hall, stopped in front of Zeus, and threw a left uppercut into his jaw. Zeus clutched his face, fell to the floor, and died.
The helicopters grew louder.
"Bad news is," said Jackson Dougherty, "It ain't gonna be ours" and flicked off his safety. | "Oh, come on!" shouted Yahweh. "Fire raining from the heavens is the most *fabulous* way to go!"
Zeus shot him a pointed look. "Aren't you against gay people?"
"Well, yes, but who says I can't use the word 'fabulous'?"
Ra just sighed and shook his head.
Meanwhile, from the back, a small god in a perfect business suit spoke up. "Mind if I get a word in edgewise?"
The room fell silent as everyone present looked at the new arrival. He seemed to grin but his face was indistinct, and none could quite make out his features. In fact, nothing about him was quite visible -- you could memorize some feature, but the moment you looked away, you'd forget.
"Why not just go quietly?"
Odin looked surprised for a moment before saying, "And who, exactly, are you?"
The indistinct god turned his stare to the Norse king before saying, "No one, and everyone." He paused before continuing, "I am the gods who are not worshiped." He seemed to grow slightly. "And I think that the world should just end, without much fuss. It seems best that way. Maybe just give the mortals a day to enjoy what remains of their life, then everyone goes to sleep and never wakes up. We can do what we like with the planet afterwards."
After the strange god's proclamation that no one worshiped him -- or them -- or something -- it was doubtful that any god would trust him. However, the proclamation made sense to the others in the room and, within the hour, they'd made their plans and set them in motion. They each said a final farewell to the planet, and all watched as everything on it slowly died out. Afterwards, the indistinct figure slowly faded from sight, but became more clear; his face was sharp and not ugly, but not handsome, and he had the strangest grin on his face.
---
First try, lemme know how I did!
I've redone it a bit since the original writing. | 2014-05-08T21:09:22 | 2014-05-08T17:27:39 | 54 | 14 |
[WP] Compared to the rest of the galaxy, humans are pretty weak. No great strength or intellect, nor are they that technologically advanced. So when an invading force comes to Earth, they think it's an easy mark. Pity they underestimated humanity's one, greatest strength. | “Twelve Star Destroyers...”
“Yup. Twelve Star Destroyers”
I eyed the Terran’s projection again, still baffled by how similar they look to us, yet brown and dark. Even the pale ones are shades darker than us. This diplomat was especially dark skinned, the darkest of them all.
“You don’t even have a centralized government.”
“Correct.”
“And you own and operate twelve Star Destroyers.”
“Yup. You can see them all on Star Wars.”
The Star Wars. This must be one of their military campaigns. No wonder the Milky Way was radio silent until the last century. He displayed an image of the Destroyers patrolling a colonized planet as far as I know. I pace across my chambers trying to make sense of this, my son is shaking. He is scared of these creatures and I just know this isn’t the worst of it.
“Are you okay, my Queen?”
He submits to me, holding back some twisted smirk. But why? Is this some kind of joke?
“Regardless our soldiers have been genetically augmented, we would obliterate you in a ground war. If you don’t give into my demands we will have a warp ship on your capitol in seconds. New York City.”
“We actually have a guy there. Hold on.”
The Terran leaves our call, I sit back on my throne, and he arrives later with a projection of a Terran clad in red and blue spandex.
“What is this?”
His lips curl up again. “This is Spider-Man. Partner of the Avengers, X-Men, and Fantastic Four. All of whom live in New York City.”
A Spidered-Terran? They’re merging lifeforms now? I feared their science was superior to ours. And they have three strike teams of these freaks in *one* city. The diplomat cuts to footage of these “Avengers” defending their city against an invasion, defeating a warlord called Thanos, and the “X-Men” defeating a war god called Apocalypse. We surely would have known of them.
“And don’t even think about bombing our planet” he demanded, cutting to another projection of two Terrans flying in Earth’s orbit with no type of space suit or jet pack. One male in blue spandex an a red cape in and a female in foreign, non-Terran armor redirecting planetary nukes and destroying our fleets. He also shows me a still image of three males, including an aquatic and bat merged Terran, a Cyborg, and a tall female fighting off an insectoid hive mind that the fleet's generals sent forward. He states this was our battle.
I stood up from my throne and froze, furious. “I remember giving no such order, diplomat”.
He snorts at me, with his hand covering his mouth. “These are your ships though, and those were your generals. Maybe they don’t matter to you?”
Impossible. I remember growing no "Parademons", I remember no alliance with these "Kree", and I do not remember appointing “Ronan the Accuser”, “Steppenwolf” or “Darkseid” to these positions. Could they have been defeated so terribly that we forgot?
“You’re free to attack us again. Unless you’re too much of a yellowbelly.”
I could not speak. Yellow stomach. Yes the Eldaris told us our skin was yellow. We must have fought the Terrans under a different name. The Neanderthals maybe. Maybe our defeat made our complexion a sign of weakness to them.
I looked to my son again. He is young for a prince. Our soldiers and commanders are children from his point of view. They are my grandchildren. I could not send them to a planet of torment again. I sit back into my throne, making myself smaller. A universal sign of weakness. “... we concede.”
“We thank you for your cooperation.” the dark Terran thrusted his hands into each other with loud bang and a smile on his face, I shivered, he laughed proclaiming “They fell for it!” and his companions joined him. They mock us with their supremacy. A trademark Terran victory cry I have heard too many times. | “I don’t understand,” said the commander.
“Neither do we, sir. They said they would meet here to negotiate a truce. Yet here it is, seven minutes past when the little hand meets the big hand... and they are no where to be found.”
Several eyes looked towards the shore. There they were, standing ankle deep in the English Channel, with eyes that could see details beyond miles, staring at the large clock tower that the humans had named.
“The Big Ben says they are late,” Lumo said.
“How can they be late?” Asked the commander, “Do they not know we could trample them at any minute? London is only a few steps away for us!”
“We should commence the attack,” said Lumo, I fear they have used their greatest weapon yet again.”
Several steps was an exaggeration, but the creatures of Tankurat were indeed monstrous tall. They had drank up much of the delicious Earth water; until a human informed them drinking too much of it could poison them. They had not verified this - there was no need, the humans had already told them it was so.
Just as the humans told them there was a weapon at the center of the planet that was made to destroy the people of Tankurat.
The humans had also said they would hear the sound of many planes several miles south of the English Channel when they arrived to negotiate the truce. The creatures thought negotiating from planes was an odd way to negotiate, but if that was how they made truces then they’d best not spur them to use their weapon.
It hadn’t taken long for the creatures to lose interest in the planet, as eerie stories of humans saying things that couldn’t possibly be true - and then, in fact, proved NOT to be true, had filled the ranks of their army.
But Luno figured they mist have misheard the humans. *they are in fact, very small beings, and it’s hard to hear them right sometimes*
But just then, Lumo’s powerful ears picked up the sound of planes. He was struggling with the fact that the clock said they were late, as the people had said they would be on point.
But the commander began his speech, as if no such magic had happened.
“Ahem, people of Earth -“
Just then, the planes dropped something. The objects were the size of cigars to the creatures, and the reached out to grab them. Every Tankuratan had gathered here in the middle of the water, and were now overjoyed at the soght of the small gifts. The voices from the planes told them they were in fact cigars, and to put them in their mouths. The Tankuratan did. Every one, with a smile. Except Lumo. He looked at his cigar, frowning.
And then, it blew up. Along with everyone else.
The dying thoughts of the Tankurat rang silently in the air as their radioactive remains melted into the ocean.
*They... Lied*
Edit: Spacing/paragraphs | 2021-05-15T09:07:36 | 2021-05-15T08:15:32 | 127 | 58 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | The response below is the prequel to a story I wrote for another prompt found here: http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2j42eh/wp_humanity_is_the_only_race_in_the_galaxy_with/cl8i9yy
Enjoy! And as always, please criticize as much as you can - I need it!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Meditating in this room, with its crystalline throne and specialized hydrogen atmosphere, had always put me at peace before. I had ordered the burning of entire planets, demanded that entire fleets of ships be sacrificed to stall an enemy advance, and asked for whole cities to commit ritual sacrifice from this room. All of that paled in comparison to what I was about to do now, and I doubt I will have any peace in the years to come.
Humanity had always been an oddball race in the galaxy. With the invention of their Kines-Alcubierre Drive, their presence in the galaxy grew like a menacing cancer. Full of war and hate and astonishingly quick technological progress, they quickly butted heads with their alien neighbors. While I'm glad that my people, the T'vana, weren't the first to discover human violence firsthand, I can't help but feel that it might have helped us to learn their ways. Their fundamental differences - borne out by a rare evolutionary path in which they evolved sentience as *individuals* instead of a collection of hiveminds - could have saved us if we had only bothered to learn from them. But the other species in this galaxy, the ten civilizations that feared humanity's abilities, stifled them instead. With warships and sanctions, we stifled them until they were fenced into a third of the galaxy we all share.
But now there are only 4 of the original 10 species left. The others are all gone, scattered in refugee fleets or cowering in hidden asteroid bases. All hoping that the Enemy, the REAL nemesis that we should have seen coming, overlooks them. For all the condescension that we showed towards the humans because of their warlike ways, we need them. None of us know how to wage cold, dirty war on a grand scale. The Shuri never moved past dueling as a suitable method of settling disputes, while the Heela refused to even touch weapons. Both species are now seen as museum pieces; things to be treasured for the short time they have left. The Kaavari aliens from beyond the galactic border do not see chivalry as something to be admired.
So now I, possibly the last Emperor of the T'vana, am giving humanity the one thing they've never been able to develop. Their Kines-Alcubierre machines can travel a hundred times the speed of light, but ours...our ship drives shift *instantly*. If the Terran Empire could fight their way through and colonize a third of the galaxy with such a limited drive, I truly shudder to think of what they will do with this.
I am sorry, my people. May we go together into the dark, for I fear that humanity will have taken all the light when this is done. | Recording starts: I am the Voice of the Void, Grace embodied, S/He who is most exalted, Pontif Imhedi Gomae.
The Void had always provided and today was no exception. Those less faithful and with less worthy prayers upon their stomata had, in a flash rekindled their zeal. A golden tablet, fashioned by those who are still ignorant of their role as our saviors, flew within range of our sensors and was picked up. We studied the contents meticulously. The Void makes no errors, and this was no exception. The great Hivemind analyzed their chemistry and evolution and taught us what we needed to know. They would have been violent and perhaps even made themselves extinct, but the Void makes no errors and this would be no exception.
The Hivemind was in agreement, we would speak to them through the clicks and smacks they used and request that they assist us immediately. We are, after all, Chosen of the Void. As we poured our resources into this missive the barbarians were at our doorstep. They swarmed through space stoic and unwilling to compromise. Every outpost of ours was silenced and every record intercepted. Their greatest weapon was their lack of communication to the greater hivemind. They were apostates, untethered and dangerous.
When our response arrived it was nearly instantaneous. They hadn't need of our technology. In the lapse between the launch of their golden message, they had acquired the power from the Void.
The Void had judged us, that was clear when we saw the fraternity amongst the swarm and our saviors. They were the same people, long since split due to a global civil war. These nomads had finally found a home they wanted and now their cousins had arrived to help them make that happen. The Void makes no errors, and that day was no exception.
*Message cuts to static*
| 2014-12-26T12:09:55 | 2014-12-26T11:56:13 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] You can tell just by looking into someone's eyes the most significant crime they've committed. You notice a couple of murderers on the road today, which isn't an uncommon occurrence, until one of them stands out. His death toll spans into the millions. | I twisted the knife. He screamed.
"Who did you kill," I demanded, keeping the tremble out of my voice. I should be icy cold. I'd already taken care of so many murderers. It was supposed to be easy, by now.
I could always tell *what* they'd done, just with a glance at them. But *who* and *why* - that was always much harder to get out of them. So many killers in denial - to me or themselves, whichever worked for them. No matter. An eye for an eye, a life for a life. This had been my creed for months now, ever since I got my *true sight*.
"Nobody," he still insisted, voice desperate. I knew better. Millions of lives, lost to this unassuming, scruffy, thin character currently spilling blood on his apartment floor. "Nobody! Help! Someone help!"
Nobody would come to his aid. A killer of millions wouldn't surround himself with innocents. I'd already taken care of the rest of the tenants in this suspiciously cheap-looking safehouse.
The army veteran, clearly a mentor of sorts. The young, tired-looking "mother" with her two little child soldiers. The sickly grandmother, who'd slowed down her killing in her later years. They'd gone down quickly and quietly. Just so I could take my time with this monster.
I could only spare half an hour, lest someone start checking up on the place. All my well-practiced techniques could get only one admission out of an increasingly toothless mouth. "Bugs," he sputtered, fresh crimson flecking my protective gloves. "Just bugs."
I gritted my teeth, and finished the job. So that's what he thought of them. At least he was out of this world. No more lives lost.
As his body slumped to the floor, a handful of cards fell out of his pocket. Business cards. I picked one up.
*"Jemaine Johnson, Exterminator. Ants, roaches, wasps: We kill them all."*
The cards made good kindling for the flames. I'd already disabled the fire alarms. The firefighters would arrive too late.
My coat hid the bloodstains as I wandered back into the streets. It was still early enough in the evening that the streets were littered.
Everywhere I turned, I saw someone who had taken lives. With a swat, a stomp, or even just accidentally by walking. That one had killed several with a vaccuum cleaner. That child had tortured her victims, pulling off their limbs before finally leaving them to perish.
But tonight was the first time I'd met someone who had killing as their profession.
I couldn't imagine that there could be more of these "exterminators". But I made a note of the term.
Just in case. | You look back, fear in your gut. Your rational mind tells you to make like a horse and run but your heart demands you know who such a man is, and why.
Every step closer your mind shakes but your heart beats on, yearning, longing, demanding to know. You utter the question not how, but why. Why did you kill millions.
One would think exposing a bunch of murderers would have them pounce like lions but instead they whimpered back, tails between there legs. All except him.
"Tell me the difference between love and compassion", thr devilman spoke.
You stayed silent and stared at him. What were you supposed to say.
"Compassion is to care for all things both familiar and strange. It is a blanket, nice and warm. Those who are compassionate wouldn't hurt a fly. Love is a burning fire towards only the few familiar objects that one trusts the most. Despite popular belief love and compassion dont share the same bed. For to be compassionate means to care about all things. Love is the willingness to forsake all things to save the object of love".
You looked at him scared out of your mind.
"All you need to know about my transgressions is that with a computer at my hands I managed to make the 12 plagues of Egypt look like a common cold. Not for power, or greed, but because I loved a few people more then the poor bastards on the other side of that black screen. It was my loved ones or them. Now back a away before I add you to their numbers". | 2021-04-16T04:15:58 | 2021-04-16T00:56:45 | 118 | 50 |
[WP] Humans are known throughout the galaxy as the only species without active psychic abilities. One day at school the alien teacher reveals a book that not even the universal translators can decipher. You and the other humans in the class can read it perfectly, and you recognize it as a grimoire. | Three hundred years ago humans have made contact with various extraterrestrial life. Overwhelmed by the sheer difference with technological advancements humans quickly fell into the bottom of the food chain. The United Galactic Government or the U.G.G. enacted laws in order to protect humans as third class species, in need of government protection until we are evolved enough to stand side by side with other lifeforms.
"Oi! Punny Humie!" said a Globforb telepathically as its gelatinous tentacles produced a shrill sound, it hurt my ears. They don't have to do that but they still do. "Yes?" I said, without a choice but to reply. The Globforb lets out a disgusting fart, the kind that you can taste, the kind that lingers in your nose long after its gone. The gelatinous creature laughed, still making a shrill noise humans can only perceive.
I entered the classroom using the backdoor, no one is allowed to use the front aside from the mentors. Today, we will be learning galactic history. It turns out that humans never managed to learn about the rich history of the galaxy. How galactic empires rose and fell, how saviors fought and martyred, all because we can't stop fighting between ourselves. *"Humans, weak as they are, are surprisingly savage lifeforms. So savage in fact that the single celled organisms of Xiphium-4 managed to bond together and become a living planet, contacted the U.G.G. Way before the humans were found the government."* said our mentor, Clorphrius, or at least that is what us humans can understand. *"So backwards are they that they never developed what we call the Unity! The oneness between the outside and the inside."* Mentor Clorphrius continued *"But you all know and some of you..."* the mentor looked at the half-dozen humans in the classroom. *"..lives it to this day. So enough of that. Today we shall discuss the most ancient relic ever known to exist."* Clorphrius took out a brown leather bound tome from a metal box. On its cover says Grimoire.
*"Not a single living organism can understand what this relic say. Some scholars believe that it is pure nonsense."* Mentor Clorphrius used one of their arms to flip through the book while the other two held it up above its heads. All the humans looked at each other, our eyes unsure of what we were reading but somehow we knew.
*"However, all humans have the same reaction upon seeing it."* Clorphrius slithered to the humans. Its psychic voice filled with vile and disgust. I refuse to let my imagination run wild but a part of me thinks that they are conducting heinous acts to extract information from humans. *"Could it be a secret? A weapon?"* Mentor Clorphrius said as they moved back to the front of the class, the book still held up.
My eyes, our eyes, can't believe what we are reading. I know that every human in the class is reading the same words as I do in unison. Engraving each syllable to our very core. The words that say:
"We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do I
A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
You wouldn't get this from any other guy
I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cryNever gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you." | "Why are humans the only ones that can recognize this special cipher?"
"We don't know. Now, go to sleep."
The gas flowing out of our teacher's mouth knocks us all out.
\~\~\~\~\~\~
I find myself locked in a dark cell, other aliens walking outside. I hear voices behind me. I try to turn around, but realize I can't move, I'm frozen.
"He's up."
"Knock him out. He's only a kid; no use to us."
\~\~\~\~\~\~
A sharp pain on my head unhinges me from my drugged sleep. I open my eyes a crack, then snap them open when I see two Gwarks looking at me, and they do *not* look happy today.
"Tell us. What does the book say."
Even though my brain is still sluggy, I remember the two voices behind me last time I woke up. "I though I was *only a* *kid, no use to you.*"
"Look here kiddy, adult humans turn out to be unable to read the book, and we need the translations."
"Why should I help you? You've locked me in a cell, and this doesn't benefit me in any way."
"Oh? We've got your parents in custody and we ain't afraid to kill them if needed." the Gwark makes a weird clicking sound and some other Gwarks pull my unconscious mother and father out from a building.
This jolts me wide awake. "Okay! Okay! I'll translate it for you!"
"Good." the Gwark hands me the book.
"One question please. I'm just curious."
"Get on with it."
"Why do you want this?"
"Listen up, kiddy. We've long disagreed with the Council's rule of equality when we have far superior tech and abilities than any one civilization. But under the combined power of all the other civilizations, we've been forced to share our knowledge. The fire of revenge has burned within us for decades, and with this book's power we'll finally be able to overthrow the Council. Now translate it for us or else."
\~\~\~\~\~\~
~~i admit its not rlly good i tried my best xd~~
~~i need inspiration for stoof so i'm more active here~~
~~hit me, light bulbs~~ | 2020-09-07T02:56:08 | 2020-09-07T01:45:24 | 295 | 56 |
[WP] A prolific serial killer active for many years is concerned about his run of good luck. Never discovered, he has also never seen the slightest mention of his work reported on in any media. With today's victim he gets a clue as to why... | 8484 Agana Street. It was unseasonably warm, late morning, with a slight breeze pushing sunlight through the leaves of dense acacia trees.
Midday is not typically deemed the best time to break into someone's house. If you were to go about such a thing, you probably wouldn't walk up to the front door with a six pound axe and surgical-steel lock picking tools, and you'd really need a screw loose to just kneel, unfurl those tools, and tinker for as long as you pleased.
But the feeling was never wrong. If his instincts told him, despite all logic, that he could (no, that he should) noodle with a locked front door for twenty minutes, without being seen or suspected, then that was what needed to be done.
Howard McCreery could always tell when the plan was going just right. The warm tingly feeling on the back his neck, the way the air smelled, it all meant that he was on track.
The front door opened; it always does. Howard stepped in, no fear of being seen, of being caught, as no one was ever there. Sometimes a family dog would snarl at him, or bark, but it never quite seemed to lock eyes with him, or know exactly where he was. Nothing ever came of it. People keep their old blind dogs alive longer than they rightly should, Howard thought, but that wasn't his business.
No dog this time, just a clean homestead with potpourri in the foyer and family portraits on the wall.
It was time to go upstairs. His prey was in the master bedroom, far end of the hall. Howard had never cased the house, but he was sure of it; the tingles on his neck urged him on.
"You find the place okay?" A gravelly voice spoke from underneath a pile of knit comforters and moth-eaten blankets.
This was new. Yes, people talked to Howard, but not conversational. Frantic cries, stammering, whispering, slurred profanity, that was how people reacted to Howard.
After all, it's not every day a man walks into your house with an axe over his shoulder.
"Yeah," was all Howard could think to say.
"Glad to hear it." The man coughed, and coughed again, sounding hollow. "I'm done. Throw out my Hustlers, will ya, if that's within your ability. I don't want my daughter finding that stuff when she's... sorting things, you know."
No pleading, no bargaining. Sometimes people prayed. This was not how this was supposed to go, and it started to give Howard a headache. The good feeling was going away. He hesitated.
"Just bring that damned scythe down already!" The man growled.
Howard took the call to action, swung hard and true. In a moment, it was over, and Howard was at peace again.
As he walked out of the front door of 8484 Agana, something bothered him. The man in that bed had said 'scythe.' Howard didn't carry a scythe, he carried an axe.
Oh well. Old blind dogs. | This was to be the big one, my hundredth victim. The thrill I would feel as I squeeze the life out of her throat, as I watch this clone of all my other victims struggle to breathe, as the fight goes out of her body and she slumps, lifeless in my arms. Just the build up made me shiver with excitement, I had butterflies in my stomach as I watched from her wardrobe. She had no idea that I was in there, that I'd been in there for days already, just watching her.
As she climbed into bed, I could feel my excitement building, but I restrained myself. I knew her parents were downstairs, it wouldn't do to be seen too soon, for her to scream, for them to come and find me. I waited, frozen in place until, eventually, her breathing changed. The difference was subtle, but she was asleep.
The door of the wardrobe creaked quietly as I crept out, the rug on the floor muffled my footsteps and as I climbed onto the bed alongside her, I could have cried out with the sheer joy of it!
The act itself is always a blurry moment in my memory, but I can almost feel it from her perspective, awaking to cold, clammy hands on my throat, the pressure on my throat, the sheer panic, the desperate struggle to breathe and try to scream for my Mum and Dad downstairs. And then, she is limp on the bed and there is a moment of clarity as I remember, remember looking into his eyes as he murdered me and my vision clouding over. Remembering desperate to avoid the bright light people spoke of and now, my spirit is here, reliving my death but from my murderers point of view...
I have no idea why the authorities haven't caught me, but tonight will be my hundred and first victim, an exact match of my first victim, and every other victim since, as I wait, hidden in her wardrobe, for her breathing to change... | 2015-04-12T06:43:27 | 2015-04-12T02:37:20 | 44 | 14 |
[WP] To your horror, the monster under your bed has pulled you in. It’s shaking, and pointing at the slowly opening closet door | I knew I shouldn't have left my foot hanging over the bed. I felt long, calloused fingers--far larger than any human's could be--wrap around my leg, and I thought I should scream.
But I couldn't. I was pulled so swiftly under the bed, I barely had time to yelp, a scared puppy chased away into oblivion. Instead, I found myself face to face with a large set of eyes beset in an ugly green face, its expression likely mirroring mine--terror. It's index--each phalange longer than my finger--moved to the front of its lips, a universal symbol for keeping quiet. I felt like my heart pounded louder than any word I could utter, and the state of complete shock meant that somehow, I complied.
"Do not speak," it said. "We are in big trouble."
I almost laughed. We?
"We," I whispered. I could still barely hear it over the sound of my own palpitating ticker, an egg timer ready to explode. "I think you meant just me."
The words weren't enunciated very clearly, I felt. It understood enough, however.
"Really, Eddie," it said.
I was surprised--far more surprised at it saying my name than dragging me under my own bed. Actually, there was far more space here than I expected. It was cramped, still, but I could see that the creature's hulking mass wouldn't fit under the sliver that was my own bed. Man, I wasn't sure my hulking mass could fit as well. Instead, I laid rather comfortably on my stomach, my back not touching anything else.
"How do you know my name?"
"I've heard many voices scream it," it shut me down, immediately. Its terrifying finger, equipped with a nail that could probably slice through a tough, well-done steak, moved towards the closet. It visibly shook, a tattered leaf on the wind, and gulped: "Do not speak any more. That thing is coming through."
"What?"
I redirected my gaze towards the closet. It opened, slowly, sinisterly--and a little paw poked out.
The monster beside me involuntarily shrieked, and I inadvertently aww'ed.
"The cat," we both said at once.
I turned towards the monster under my bed, then. I pointed outwards, over the threshold of the bed, at the cat now lithely jumping on the floor, yawning widely, and was rewarded with a rough and swift drag back by a foul hand.
"You are afraid of that? Of Nova?"
It nodded.
"Of course I am," it said. "That... thing. It might be little, but it possesses demonic traits like none other. In fact, I would be jealous of it, if I wasn't terrified myself."
It paused, pondering over my words.
"You named it?"
"Yeah," I sighed. "Nova's a little monster alright. But she's my little monster."
The monster under my bed became thoughtful. It was certainly not human, but its expressions and mannerisms were perhaps even more obvious.
"Do I have a name too?"
"Er," I said. "No. You are a monster."
"But..."
"OK," I said. "I don't think I should name you. You do terrifying things like dragging me under my own bed. I don't like that."
"But that thing... Nova... it drags you around everywhere, like an invisible leash tied to your neck."
This guy's good. Very, very good.
"Still," I said. "I'm sorry. But I don't really want you to be here, you know?"
The creature sighed, and began mumbling.
"I am a nightmare creature. I cannot help it, cannot help eating your nightmares."
"Wait, you what? You eat my nightmares?" I asked. "What do you mean by nightmares?"
"The scary dreams," he said.
"No, I meant why you eat them," I said. "Don't you... eat the good dreams?"
"What?" it whispered. "That's insulting. How do I sustain my own existence by eating the good dreams? I am a nightmare creature, and therefore I eat nightmares."
"Right," I said. "Huh. Well, then. I didn't know that."
"Sorry for dragging you under the bed, then," it said. "I did not know you were not afraid of that tiny monster. Are you going to chase me out?"
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but no," I smiled. "You can stay here if you want... Nacht."
The monster tilted its head for a while, confused, before the slow beam of realization dawned on his face.
"That was a name," it said.
"Yes," I said. "But please. If my leg hangs over the bed, could you please not drag it?"
"Um," Nacht said.
"Please?"
"It is difficult," it continued. "But I will try."
The mewing of a cat interrupted our conversation. Despite being newly introduced to my cat, Nacht yelped--very similarly to how I sounded moments ago--and retreated back into the darkness under my bed. I squeezed my way out, petting Nova on the head.
"Good girl," I cooed.
Nova purred, before turning her narrowed, green eyes on me.
"Why were you speaking with the monster under the bed?"
---
r/dexdrafts | I'm a lucky kid, and I mean uncannily lucky. When there was a test I hadn't prepared for? Snow day. I'm out of money and want something to eat? Five bucks on the sidewalk. I've always been in the right place at the right time. Maybe it's a power, maybe it's built up karma from some ancient relative who's always had the crap end of the deal, who knows? But tonight, I am more grateful than ever that some cosmic force of luck is with me.
The night started pretty normally, got done with dinner, washed my dishes, told my mom goodnight, and went to bed. I laid awake for a little longer than usual wondering if tomorrow was going to bring another random snowday. Not likely though, I had tomorrow's algebra test in the bag. Slowly my thoughts wound down, and I started to drift to sleep.
I smelt it first, the stench of something rotten. I figured some rat died again in my box fan, living in the country does that. But then I heard the rustling, it was coming from underneath the bed. My eyes shot open, I could feel my heartbeat through my chest. It wasn't like me to be scared, but something felt terribly wrong. That, and the stench was getting worse.
I hear movement, still coming from underneath me. Was I having a nightmare? I pinch myself, to my horror I am awake. I try to calm myself down to think for a moment. It could be another rat, or some other type of animal. What was I even afraid of I thought, I'm the luckiest kid alive! I muster up the courage to start scooting towards the edge of the bed, and then it struck.
Skeletal in form the hand had surprising strength and speed. It latched onto my head and pulled. I flipped out of bed and hit the floor hard on my back knocking the scream that was forming out of me. The monster wasted no time, as soon as I had hit the floor it had a hold on my hair. I screamed louder, calling for my mother like a five year old. There was something trying to kill me, and I was sure with it's strength it would be over soon. As it drew me closer the monster stifled my screams with a grotesquely decaying hand. It pulled me to its lair underneath where I slept and held me. "Shh child" I heard a guttural voice say. It had wrapped itself around me so I could not move, and with the hand not covering my mouth, it pointed. I was in shock, part to do with the fact I wasn't dead and part to do with the zombie like monster whispering in my ear. "Quiet, so you may live".
The only chance I had at surviving I realized, was to stay quite and do what it wanted. I looked where it's dripping hand was pointed, my closet. I heard a it then. Without me struggling the room was quiet except for my fan, and the handle of my closet door jiggling. The door slowly started to open, and a foot that looked like it was being licked by flames stepped through. Then my worst nightmare came to life as my mother burst into the room.
She must have heard my screams. I really wish she hadn't. The red glowing beast was set on her immediately, like a flash of red lightning. I screamed and kicked to get to her, to no avail. For whatever reason this monster holding me did not want me to be seen.
The act of keeping me safe cost mother her life.
I did not see how the deed was done, but I could see the blood shattering to the floor. My mother's limp body fell to the side shortly after. She fell to the side of my bed, and my muffled screams rang out as I stared into her lifeless eyes. Her chest was ripped open. The spot her heart should reside laid bare.
I don't know why or how the beast could not hear my muffled screams and cries of anguish, maybe it didn't care anymore. It had gotten what it came for, a heart, and it left through the same door it had appeared from in a bright flash of red. | 2021-05-29T23:13:33 | 2021-05-29T22:54:48 | 110 | 39 |
[WP] You actually can learn through Osmosis! Any book you touch you instantly "read" and that knowledge stays with you. | Do you know I couldn’t even read until the fourth grade? It’s true; before then, computers had not been a major factor in my life and I hardly had any reason to actually read books when I could learn their contents just by touching them.
There are a lot of weird side effects that you wouldn’t expect. In math, for example, if you need the exact square root of any number from one to one thousand, I’ve got your back. If you need to do a simple derivative, however, I’m lost. That’s the trick, you see. All of the perfect recall in the world can’t save you if you haven’t put in the practice for an actual task.
My favorite metaphor for the issue is running. I could list off every last chemical reaction used in muscular contraction, every last bone and tendon in the legs, every single interaction that could ever happen in the body, but if I tried to run a marathon I wouldn’t last ten minutes.
In the same way, if you expected me to go to college, get a bachelor’s degree in physics or chemistry or some such nonsense in three years, head straight to grad school and get my Ph.D., and then begin cutting edge research… well, you’re reading the wrong personal memoir. My high school experience was sitting around all day smoking weed and doing party tricks to pick up girls. My college days were nearly identical except the books I touched were more expensive and focused on political science.
And I know what you’re thinking now: *Oh, this is gonna be good. He’ll probably finish his degree in political science, come to some life-altering event, get his ass in gear, and use his powers to rule the world.*
I’m sure my parents also wanted that, but what we want rarely happens.
You see, I did some thinking. I did the barest modicum of research. There are very few lucrative careers where rote memorization is the key to success. The first choice was to be a doctor, which offered years of studying, massive debt, and endless 80 hour weeks of work grinding away at me in exchange for a thankless job of saving the lives of people who would sooner throw them away than give up food for a few hours before surgery.
So naturally, I chose the profession of lawyer.
You see, my endless years of slacking taught me one skill more than any other. I’m quite good at finding loopholes. It’s not so hard considering how easy it is to commit every typo of a contract or law or court decision to memory.
I bet many of you hate me right now. I have all these great abilities and I’m wasting them on saving criminals, racketeers, and politicians. You probably think I have a responsibility to use my gifts for the betterment of humanity, either by discovering new technologies to make life better or by taking control and making the right decisions based on my near-infinite knowledge and capacity for learning. To you, I say the same thing that the rich have been saying for centuries:
I can’t hear you over the sound of my [money](https://reddit.com/r/Badderlocks). | I was a servant, born from servants, destined to live with my knees to the dirt. I toiled. I graduated from harvesting my owner's crops along the nile to keeping his house. He trusted me, and I loved him as a second father.
I knew nothing else, but he was an educated man who owned boats and horses and many scrolls. He would tell me a little, about which god created this and which man created that. And I wanted more. He refused to tell me everything he knew. I insisted on more and further more. He grew annoyed and sent me back to the fields.
By the bank of the nile, I gazed upon Ra when he was at his highest and pleaded with him to aid me. He set my eyes ablaze. I persisted.
I woke up in the shade. The others said I had fell asleep. My hands felt hot. The field master chastised me but I heard not what he said, rather I gazed at the scroll he hid behind his back. I reached out and touched it, he slapped my face. But I learned. I learned about his wife, and the market, and the library that my owner would let no servant into.
That day I received lashes, but that night I broke into the library and I learned. I learned more than my owner could ever know. Of Archery, and Poetry, and Riding, and Plants, and Economy. I learned of a great library in Alexandria.
And I head there now. I care for nothing else. I steal food when I can, horses when I can, and knowledge when I can. Armed with my sword and bow, a dozen men are no match for my technique.
Ra has set me on this path. I have been chosen by his fire. I know it. | 2020-09-28T08:35:26 | 2020-09-28T08:27:00 | 50 | 16 |
[WP] There is a population limit to the galaxy. Whenever one sentient creature is born, another must die. With billions of unexpected deaths over the last few centuries, the galactic counsel has found the cause; a long ignored planet where a group of bipeds can't stop reproducing. | The universe was in balance, or so we thought.
In a moment, whole systems began going dark. Conversations over eons cut short. Billions of years of memories gone blank. Confusion spread, then alarm. For the first time in [4 billion years], we conducted a census.
92.5 billion. From 100 billion, our population for as long as we remember.
Some kind of new plague? The bravest of us went off to look at the remains of our sisters. They came back with nothing. Just dead beings floating in the cosmos.
Is the universe shrinking? Maybe that’s the cause of our lower population. Nothing indicated that our universe was dying however, and this hypothesis was shelved.
With every moment that passed, our population shrank, and it shrank exponentially. Some began to resign, and accept death as it came. Until we found it.
A planet around a star. Insignificant, but for those who live on it. Tiny meaty creatures, with two legs. The rate of their population growth and the rate of our decline were identical. We did the math. 100 Billion, our combined population. For every two-legged creature born, one of us dies.
Outrage spread. Why are our lives equivalent? Why should one insignificant speck with a miniscule capacity for thought be equal with us, who span whole systems, who can solve the riddles of the universe with ease?
One species for the survival of another. The only logical solution.
It seemed easy enough at the time. We sent a few meteorites their way, enough to render the planet uninhabitable for their fragile little bodies. It would take a while, yes. But in due time, these two-legged creatures would plague them no more.
The first asteroid hit, and then another. Rolling waves of fire and ash covered the surface. We turned away and began to slowly rebuild our population.
Except we couldn’t. We conducted another census. The second in just [2000] years! Unbelievable! 99 billion, it said. We kept conducting regular censuses, every [100 years] or so. The data didn’t lie. We were shrinking again.
Another call was made for a return to Earth. When we got there, the planet was still in ruins. It wasn’t the two-legged folk. Or we thought. At the very limits of my sense, I detected a small metal ship, filled with those same creatures we thought were extinct.
We looked closer.
Millions of small ships and tiny habitable pods were seeded across their system, as well as the systems surrounding it. Thousands of tiny cities were attached to asteroids and moons and planets.
It was panic this time.
How could we eradicate them now? In every nook and cranny of a star system lay a human settlement. We continue to send asteroids and comets to any planet or moon of sufficient size.
It was no good. We kept dying.
In time, the asteroids were stopped. They were blown up, redirected, or the target just moved out of the way.
Agony. Something had destroyed one of my limbs. They were here.
They spoke. One species for the survival of another.
I resigned myself to my fate.
___
If you have any criticisms, please let me know! I'm always trying to improve.
Some criticisms of myself are that I failed to capture a real alien feel, that the voice of my narrator is a bit inconsistent, and that I had an issue with the scale of time for the species of the narrator and humanity. I changed my mind on the ending too many times, and it's not really that great. At one point I wanted humanity to be glassed, and then I wanted an ending where they came to a peaceful solution, and then a violent ending with humanity losing, and so on. At least I finished a story, haha. | Nathan looked incredulously at the translation report. It had taken the last 16 years of his life for him and his team to work out a communication system with the outerlings that was abstract enough to share concepts other than basic mathematics. He had assumed that his translations were once again mistaken, but they had repeated their message in so many different ways that his team couldn't be mistaken on all of them.
A galactic limit on the number of sentient creatures. Moreover a galactic limit that was so small that the number of humans on earth was disrupting it. A galaxy with 300 billion star systems somehow could only have 50 billion sentient entities, and of those 16% now resided within orbit of a single planet's satellite.
The outerlings hadn't come to negotiate. They had merely come to explain, apologize, and describe how they would effect the population control measures they would implement. A device would be placed in orbit of mercury which would project a field which would doppler shift solar radiation directed towards earth further into the infrared end of the spectrum greatly reducing the ability of plants to gather energy. This would greatly reduce the maximum population the Earth could support.
They estimated that human society would take centuries to neutralize the effects of the device which could protect itself by modulating its effect to shower any approaching craft with focused solar radiation. They thought that humanity would behave as natural for any threatened organism. Draw away from the pain, preserve resources, weather the storm. Make sacrifices.
Maybe we would.
Nathan's team had managed the translations, but they weren't responsible for the decisions, and with the outerlings cutting off contact his team was being dissolved. Each specialist heading back to their own fields of study. They weren't going away empty handed however. During the work to establish communication the outerlings had begun with repetitions of certain universal constants, and formula for converting between them.
Many of them had matched with the values we had already worked out on our own. Some had been very close, differing by inconsequential values of accuracy. Others... well they weren't anything we had ever considered, but they had made quite a splash among the theoretically minded. Some interesting things might be happening in the applied sciences in the coming decades.
His particular skills wouldn't be needed for that battle, but he figured he could do his part for his species in other ways. "Hey, would you like to help save humanity?", might be a bit much for a pickup line, but he though he knew someone who appreciate it. After all increasing the population sevenfold might be taxing, but it was a damn sight better than having it go the other way. | 2018-11-29T10:58:15 | 2018-11-29T10:32:10 | 115 | 45 |
[WP] A gender of the human race has long gone extinct due to an unforeseen virus. Now, heterosexuality is a thing of the past and humans reproduce artificially, but today someone realizes they are straight. | Baldness.
Hemophilia.
Colour-blindness.
Men always did get the short end of the biological stick. Maybe that's why they overcompensated by taking up 91% of Congress and 97% of Wall Street. And fucked over women. In the cases of India and Steubenville, literally. You see... with enough money and power, you can get away with anything. Except an airborne virus that slowly kills anyone with a Y chromosome, suffering over the course of a year, finally culminating in a day-long seizure, all your blood gushing out of your pores, and going bald.
. . .
Denise sat at her big boss chair staring at her big boss computer.
She was an astute businesswoman.
Officially, she was dealing with lawsuits about the corruption in her Surrogate Sweatshops, as the protestors would call them, where her company grows new female babies for wannabe parents back home.
Unofficially, she was looking at porn. Porn of dead men.
I mean, they're not dead in the pictures. Denise isn't *that* fucked up. Yet. I mean that all the porn actors she's viewing have been long dead ever since The Great Penis Purge. In a matter of two years, all biological men and transwomen -- not all women have a vagina -- were dead. Either from the virus, or committing suicide before the disease could get them.
Denise wasn't thinking about any of that.
She was concentrating on James Deen having a wank.
She's been to several therapists for this. "Androphilia", as it's officially classified in the DSM-IX. Or as her porn site's motto puts it, "It's Dandy To Be Andy". It's a serious condition. It haunts her. Her shareholders don't know, but it's driven her to bribe the managers in her Surrogate Sweatshops to keep the accidental male babies alive. Where can they keep them? Well, they've sterilized and remodelled the prisons -- now that 98% of the prison population is gone -- as a nursery to raise the male babies until adulthood.
. . .
Denise was saving the males.
Denise was saving the males... for herself.
And if there was a surplus, well, she could always sell them to her community of fellow Andies.
With enough money and power, you can get away with anything.
Men always did get the short end of the biological stick.
Denise was a very, *very* astute businesswoman. | I looked her in the eyes, she was so beautiful. With big, brown saucers, and long, dark hair I ran my fingers through a thousand times. Her pink mouth in an upward curve as she held our baby in her arms.
But I felt nothing.
They always joked Earth was lucky. Girls could cook better then men. We were cleaner. We smelled better. We were, of course, smarter. And we could carry babies.
It had been hundreds of years since the male human gender had gone virtually extinct. We didn't know much. But the virus left all of us women alone. That is, until the Dr. Maxis. In 2025, she was able to manipulate frozen sperm to only grow female babies in a woman's stomach. They said the male fetuses would never survive.
I was flipping through an old magazine my wife had purchased at a yard sale. That's when I saw him.
He was tall, and dark. He had big, muscular arms, and course facial hair. My heart skipped a beat. For a moment I imagined being wrapped in his arms, his big strong arms. And his facial hair rubbing against his neck. And-
"Honey-can you start the laundry? " my wife asked. I threw the magazine onto the coffee table.
I smiled. "Of course."
| 2014-05-06T09:58:22 | 2014-05-06T09:44:05 | 35 | 17 |
[WP] You've just discovered the reason behind aliens abducting humans. Turns out they were after impartial jurors for the intergalactic court. | Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Could you please stop that, human?"
I stopped drumming my fingers on the tabletop.
"Sorry, I do that when I'm nervous."
"Your pheromones do indeed indicate your distress. Unfortunately, such sounds closely resemble those emitted by ancient predators on my home planet. You can imagine the instinctive response."
I paused for a moment. "So let me get this straight."
"I do not understand why geometry is relevant in this conversation."
I sighed. I'd only been here for a day or so, and I was already starting to realise that the Universal Translator didn't do well with sayings."
"Sorry, let me understand you properly. There are aliens throughout the galaxy."
"Correct."
"And you've all formed some sort of massive federation."
"Confederation would be a more accurate description, but yes."
"And Earth isn't invited, because you're waiting for us to discover FTL travel."
"Yes, that is one of our requirements."
"And, your people aren't meant to interfere with us."
"Not normally, no."
"But I was kidnapped anyway."
"Yes."
"Why?"
The alien in front of me (think the creature from Pan's Labyrinth, but with even more eyes) said a phrase, but no sound was present. I already knew this meant the Translator was taking longer than usual to determine the correct words, but eventually it did.
"Jury duty."
I blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
The alien paused briefly. "Our studies of human culture indicated you would be familiar with the concept of unbiased legal arbitration. Basically..."
"I know what jury duty is, but you're saying you took me all this way for that?"
"You and five others, yes."
"But I don't know anything about intergalactic law..."
"Intragalactic, actually..."
"...heck I don't even know much about law back home."
"Which makes your and your fellow humans perfect for this case. We require individuals who are completely unfamiliar with the beings and issues involved, to resolve this case."
"I'm not sure I follow."
The alien sighed at this point. Well, I think it sighed, even though it sounded like a tiny, but still dangerous chainsaw.
"The being that is the defendant of this case has been charged with two counts of murder, specifically a former lifemate, and a friend. However, the defendant is a being of no small renown, and is well known throughout the galaxy. As a result, it has become impossible to find jurors that are not aware of the case, or have an opinion on the defendant's guilt."
I leaned back in the somewhat ergonomic chair I was sitting in. "I see...."
"Making matters more difficult, the circumstances regarding the defendant's arrest were particularly public in nature."
"How so?"
"The defendant originally agreed to surrender to authorities, however, on the day agreed upon, the being evaded authorities, coercing a friend to pilot a short range shuttle through several systems before eventually surrendering. Multiple news media vehicles were on hand to record these events."
It was about this time that small, distinctively human sounding alarm bells began to ring in my hand. "Wait wait wait.... so a defendant... was charged with killing his ex-wife..."
"Yes?"
"And then agreed to turn himself in, only to run from police for some time, with the news media recording the whole time."
"Correct."
"And he's a celebrity."
"More specifically, he is an athlete. I believe the sport involved most closely resembles the human sport of..."
"Yes yes, I can guess...." I decided I need to know... "There wouldn't happen to be a glove involved?"
"I do not understand why hand coverings would be relevant."
I rested my head on my hands and groaned. "Never mind."
| I woke up feeling woozy. I tried to sit up, but my arms and legs were tied to whatever cold metal thing I was laying on. Above me strange shapes moved around.
“It’s awake!”
“Let’s see if it can move!”
I felt the clamps around my arms release, before sitting up.
“Movement seems fine. Let’s ask it a couple of questions.”
One of the strange shapes moved around and sat on the table, next to my legs.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“M-my name is Winston,” I said, my voice feeling hoarse.
“It’s correct!” the strange shape said to the other strange shape. “Now then, where do you think you are?”
My vision finally became clearer. In front of me sat a blue man with enormous eyes and six fingers on each hand.
“Some strange Halloween party?”
“This one might be mentally challenged,” the creature said.
“I’m not mentally challenged!” I yelled. “Where the hell am I?”
“You’re in the med bay of the Intergalactic Court ship. You’re going to be a member of the jury today.”
“I am what?” I jumped off the table and walked to a window.
The vastness of space was visible. I really was on a spaceship!
“Come on, let’s get you to the court room!”
There were two other humans in the jury. They looked as confused as I was. There were also two things that looked like a crossing between a pig and an ostrich, there was a sheep man and there was a weird slug-like creature.
“Members of the jury!” a six-fingered blue man said. “Today, we want your opinion on this. Former general Hiachaucbnaw of the Intergalactic Space Fleet has been brought here to stand trial for murdering seven underlings. There is four eye-witnesses that say they saw Hiachaucbnaw do it. Do you find him guilty?”
Everyone in the jury, me included, nodded.
“Very well,” the blue man said. “Hiachaucbnaw will go to jail, and your jobs are done.”
The court room slowly emptied and a blue man walked up to us.
“Good job today. Thanks to you he is behind bars.”
“Does this mean we get to go home?” I ask.
“Oh no, now we’re going to kill you and steal all of your organs,” the blue man said.
“Oh crud,” I concluded.
| 2018-05-22T09:09:47 | 2018-05-22T05:06:57 | 366 | 37 |
[WP] You have always heard two voices in your head, one telling you to do good, and one telling you to do evil. Today, however, you awaken to them both screaming the same thing at you... | "KILL!"
I sprang up in my bed. My heart, racing.
"What?! Who–"
"Kill! You have to. It's the only way to survive!" said a sweet deep voice desperately.
"You must kill it. Destroy it!" said a harried shrill voice with an edge of glee.
I'd had these two opposing voices in my head for as long as I can remember. They never agreed. Never.
"Please! Kill it! I want to see!" said Evil.
"Kill it with fire!" said Goodness.
I looked around until I spotted a brown spider crawling on my bedpost. I scream and whacked it with a book. Its legs drew up and writhed. I looked on in disgust until it halted its movements.
"Ugh. That's a deadly one. Jeez. Thanks guys!"
It was a brown recluse! I shuffled away from it and flicked on the bedside light.
"That's not all. Kill all of them!" Evil said.
Once illuminated, the room gave way to the worst horror of my life. "Holy shit... HOLY SHIT!!!!"
Tiny brown spiders were crawling all over the wall of the bedroom where the door was. I dropped everything and stared for a good minute, unbelieving. And then I started screaming.
"Kill them! They'll murder you!" said Goodness.
"Yes... kill all the babies. Kill em dead!" laughed Evil.
Instead I called the police. I didn't know what else to do.
"There's brown recluses EVERYWHERE! EVERYWHERE!"
I screamed into the phone for a while before they said they were coming.
I couldn't kill all of the spiders if I wanted to! Well, actually I really wanted to make a flamethrower with hairspray and my trusty Zippo, and burn down the house, but my insurance wouldn't like that too much.
Evil cackled happily, and goodness was terrified.
Unfortunately my bedroom wasn't the worse part. I saw through the open door that the hall had little ones all over. My house was infested.
I ended up jumping out the damn window of my bedroom.
The one time my voices agree and it's spiders. Deadly spiders.
Man.
FUCK spiders.
.
.
.
Edit: Something like this spider situation happened to me for real. I went to vacuum behind my tv, and a (harmless) spider had birthed HUNDREDS of spiders. I screamed the whole time I vacuumed every last damn one and emptied the can outside. Only then did I stop screaming. Fuck. Spiders. 🕷 | All my life I've had the voices in my head
&nbsp;
They sqibble and squabble about things I've said
&nbsp;
About people and places, the living and dead
&nbsp;
Can I find some truth within the noise I dread?
&nbsp;
But when I sleep, that sweet embrace
&nbsp;
the darkness, my friend, takes my mind into space
&nbsp;
the silence, the rest is something I long for evermore
&nbsp;
Whilst my day to day is done in that dreadful dreary daze
&nbsp;
Now I'm very conscious of the voices in my mind
&nbsp;
They multiply and amplify their anger entwined
&nbsp;
I can play the victim or get on with life instead
&nbsp;
By finding resolution as they clear my head
&nbsp;
We've had our final conversation
&nbsp;
They've all said their word just once more
&nbsp;
And as the silence of their waiting
&nbsp;
fills me up with that sweet darkness in my core
&nbsp;
No more time to listen to the voices
&nbsp;
Say goodbye, time to say farewell
&nbsp;
All this time I thought there were no choices
&nbsp;
as I finally decide to listen to myself. | 2017-05-18T07:58:39 | 2017-05-18T06:18:01 | 470 | 24 |
[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. | “Next.”
*SHITshitshitshitshitshit, FUCK! How the hell am I supposed to get out of this if they can even speed up time?!*
“Next!”
*Maybe I can try and tie it to my will? No, they’ll just torture me until I want death. Maybe some kind of paradox?*
“NEXT!”
A hand roughly grabbed me by my arm and yanked me forward. Panicking and lost in thought as I was, I stumbled and nearly fell on my face as I passed through the magic cylinder in front of me.
“Name?”
I looked up, trying to locate the source of the voice, but swirling runes and glowing, ambient energy blocked my sight while throwing the voice, making it sound as though it were all around me.. It was like I was in a universe all on my own, and God himself was bearing the full force of his judgement on me.
“Oh for the love o-NAME?!”
I jumped as the bureaucrat-God’s voice boomed in the entire column, my silence was clearly irritating him. “Oh, u-um, Erin Heckland.” The sound of rustling paper echoed all around me as I tentatively reached a hand out to touch the magic walls. Completely solid. No forcing my way out then, although that possibility had been exhausted long ago.
“Here we are, Miss Heckland. My my, that’s quite a long list. Alright, how do you want to die.”
“Well, I was planning on old age-“ the runes began glowing brighter, “BUT NOT ANYMORE!” I shout-finished. The runes dimmed. Shakily, I took a deep breath and continued, “so could I please have a minute?”
“Ugh, very well, but you get one minute exactly. If you don’t start talking by then, you will be hung.”
I blinked as an hourglass appeared in front of me, the sand rapidly draining my remaining time on Earth away. It wasn’t fair. I hadn’t hurt anyone, I had just found knowledge that the government didn’t want me to have. Some of it I didn’t even know was illegal until I got arrested! It wasn’t fair!
It wasn’t just.
It wasn’t…wait!
As the sand grains nearly finished draining, a huge grin split my face. “Oh here we go,” the drone began, “what hair-brained idea have you come up with to avoid death?”
“Not avoid it,” I confidently replied, “but stop it. If I’m going to die, I am taking this whole cursed process with me!”
The runes began to glow. | I'm waiting to die, everyone here is. I have seen a lot of people trying to fool the court, the last one requesting to die of old age, but all of them fail. At this point everyone has lost their hopes, there is no way of avoiding dead.
It's my turn and I go in front of that horrible people, happy witnesses of the magical demise that awaits me. A voice, one that seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, ask me how this magic room shall kill me. The voice says that the room will do exactly what I tell it with the only condition of choosing some way to die.
There is a countdown of one and a half minutes and I just don't know what to do, it seems to be impossible to avoid it. Well, I think, if I must die, I want to see them suffering.
"I request to die slowly while they die from what they would choose in my situation."
Those faces, full of horror while the voice ask them and the doors are shut is the only thing I needed to rest in peace. They try to avoid it, but it's inevitable. I died fast, they all tried to continue living and failed, but at least I could see part of those "high people" that made this happen diying. It's not the best, but it's the best anecdote I have from when I lived. Now, I only must see the concequences of my actions as part of the room punishment, but I'll watch and enjoy every second of it. | 2021-06-24T10:30:49 | 2021-06-24T04:31:51 | 74 | 17 |
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