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[WP] Magic exists, however with a catch. Everyone can only use magic the way they expect magic to function. Harry Potter fans MUST do weird wand waving while Call of Cthulhu players all end up going insane. Write an interaction or duel between two vastly different magic users.
Honestly if magic did exist in our world, this is how I’d expect it to function to please everyone
—-
Wow front page! That’s actually amazing | Gilda smoothed down the folds of her shirt and ran her hands over empty pockets. Her equally empty stomach chirruped. Maybe that was her magic, she thought. There was one unfortunate boy who did food magic. She certainly felt something. She thought for a moment - maybe she did vomit magic? While most people did one of the main five, people could believe just about anything.
As she walked down the dingy hallway, the echoing din of registration brought sounds of shouting, chanting, clanging, screaming, and screeching. Today was registration day. While requirements varied by state law, each person was required to register their magical beliefs in their twelfth year of school. Her friend Alma brought bells which rung out tones that became her will. Theo had pocketfuls of various metals with which to do his spells. Seventeen of her peers had brought wands - some merely twigs broken from trees - to do their magic. It was exceedingly easy to do.
The last twelve years of study had been varied and entertaining. Their texts were largely stories, created by magic themselves. Her friends and classmates had slowly realized their beliefs, and all would show up today with a strong belief in themselves and their magics. And their runes, and sticks and whatever.
Gilda turned opened the door to the gymnasium. She was bombarded by a menagerie of sights and sounds and smells. Fire erupted to her right, singing her sleeve.
"Aaalright, thank you, very good! You're done!" said a proctor, who ushered a scrubby soot-stained boy holding a leaf and a candle out of the room.
Gilda looked on uncomfortably at another student doing blood magic, before she glanced away. Looking at the people twirling their wands, signing charters, and brandishing crystals, she found it all very inspiring. She wanted to be in all of their shoes. Gilda had always longed for a reality where each magic could be true for her. But she found that as she believed in one magic, the others faded from her mind.
"Gilda Dugwin. Please present your beliefs."
Gilda was startled by the proctor. The truth was, Gilda didn't believe in any magic.
She looked the proctor in the face "I don't have any."
Impossibly, the room went silent. All heads turned to her. The spirit of a classmate's ancestor shrieked and evaporated. An owl swooping overhead nearly shat on her feet. And worst of all, Sylvia Voergaard's beautiful blonde hair swished about her prettily as she began to laugh.
Gilda stood her ground. "I don't believe in any magic. They can't all exist."
The proctor frowned and shook his thin head saying, "Nonsense! Everyone believes in something, you just haven't had the proper *motivation* yet." He motioned with his hand for a student to step forward. To her horror, Gilda saw that Sylvia was the one who stepped forward from the crowd.
The proctor gave one booming clap. "Alright! A duel, it is! The first to be knocked from the ring, is out. And also, Ms. Dugwin. If you loose, you fail." At that, he signed several figures with his hands and a ring appeared around them both.
Gilda was terrified and very aware of all the people staring at her.
"Honestly, Gilda, this must be so embarrassing. I'll let you move first because you look *so* pitiful right now.
"Honestly, Sylvia, fuck off."
Sylvia gasped, grasped her wand and shouted, "Incendio!"
Gilda tensed briefly, but refused to react. Sylvia had been one of the first of many converts to the school of Harry Potter. And now, she was an expert. At this point, Gilda would rather fail than make a fool of herself. She stuck her chin up and stared the oncoming fireball down. Just as the heat began to be too much, the spell sputtered and dissipated. Around her fluttered a few ashes.
There was silence. Sylvia was red in the face and her jaw hung open. Gilda looked to the proctor, who looked equally stunned. The circle around them dissipated.
The proctor's mouth worked for a moment before he spoke, "Uh...uh, well, right then." He scribbled on a clipboard saying, "Right, I'll just make a note here, Gilda Dugwin, non-belief." | The fearsome Dee Twen-Tee sat on the clift, facing his deadly rival: Rymus, the Poet. None dared to speak, for a wrong word may bring them to their ultimate demise - It was just time until any of them made the first action.
At high noon, Dee finally spoke: "You fiend, the gods stand by my side. I call upon you a strike from heavens!"
His hands moved around in a dramatic manner while the light around Rymus started to shift and grow in intensity, but just as she was getting ready for the worst a miracle happened: the light grew warm in a placid manner, healing her wounds and easing her mind.
"Dammit" Dee whispered "I got a 2. Guess the RNGods aren't very happy today, either that or the DMons are annoyed. Either way, next time..."
As he kept speaking, Ryme prepared her spell, as she knew that once Dee attacked her he would be forced to wait until she reciprocated. It was all part of her plan, of course, for she needed all the time possible to cast her spell. Rising her voice in an exponential manner, she shouted the verses that she had learned from her teachers: The great monologue.
"Oh my foe, you have fought quite well
It was quite an honor to fight with you
But alas, at the end, you will dine in hell
Mayhap next time, the results will be new
..."
Days passed by while both were stuck in place: Ryme kept on reading from her tomebook, Dee was forced to stay. None could move, so Dee just started slacking off, trying to find new ways to trick the system. Perhaps he could convince Ryme to mary him next turn?
Seasons later, Ryme concluded her book:
"Thus, the princess married her captor
And lived a happy fate
But this isn't a part of your life's chapters
For here ends the wait!"
Words may be unable to describe what happened next, mainly due to the fact that nobody paid attention to whatever she said for all those days, but the result was successful: Dee was down to one HP, and not even a blessing from his gods could save him. Ryme prepared for her final strike, thing that was expected to take at least 10 minutes (considering the fact that Dee would probably bore to death in that time).
But then the doves came.
"No" Ryme said "It cannot be... Steven!"
And from the doves, Steven revealed himself: "Hey guys" said he as his opponents shivered "Wassup? Can you lower your voices a bit? My child-"
Ryme redirected her strike at Steven, but this only triggered him to strike in response: a mysterious rainbow colored cloth started to seal Ryme's neck, making her unable to speak. This was the power that she feared.
As she tried to take it out, Steven spoke: "Oh guys, can we have at least a week without this? I know you like this, but really? Why don't you get a hobby or something? You know the cloth will never end, so please leave and I'll wear it off".
And so, while Ryme struggled to speak, the dying Dee asked: "How can you do this? No limits... No restrictions... This isn't supposed to be possible..."
"A magician never reveals his secrets", said Steven as he called for an ambulance a third time this month.
| 2018-10-15T21:30:14 | 2018-10-15T21:15:36 | 1,601 | 92 |
[WP] We found "god" but it wasn't what we thought. It is a giant ball of organic water in space that shoots ice comets filled with proto cells to dead worlds. We are now building submarines to dive inside it. | Since the dawn of human civilization, humanity has long wondered how life on their world came to be. Some believed that life on Earth came about entirely by accident while others believed that there was some divine being out there that had carefully created each species and placed them onto the planet. As it turned out, neither of these two groups would be correct.
In the third millennium, humanity discovered what came to be known as the God Sphere. It was a large perfectly spherical ball, roughly the size of a small moon, of some liquid substance that flew through the void of space, shooting out small ice comets seemingly at random. Analysis of the comets though would lead to a shocking discovery. Each comet was packed with protocells necessary for the creation of life, and each one deliberately targeted planets with acceptable habitable zones. In addition, the same kind of protocells that were found in the comets were linked to similar protocells on Earth and other planets that contained alien life. After exploring the cosmos for centuries, humanity had finally found the source of all creation of life.
After the initial shock wore off, a secret mission was launched with a special spaceship designed to travel underwater to investigate what was happening inside this bizarre object. And that was how Captain Raymond Sullivan found himself staring at the impossible, billions of miles away from his home. The captain was not a superstitious person, but even he couldn't stop himself from having some trepidation at the mission that had been given to him. Despite scans of the God Sphere showing that there was nothing hazardous inside, he couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen once they broke through the liquid surface. Still though, he had his orders and so, he gave the command to begin descent into the God Sphere.
The ship sank into the blue sea and soon began approaching the center of the comet. Captain Sullivan and the rest of the crew stared in shock at what they were seeing. The scans had indicated that the God Sphere was entirely liquid and yet, there was clearly something living deep inside it. It appeared to be a massive densely clustered pack of nerve cells sparking with blue electricity. And at the very center of the cluster, larger than a skyscraper, there was a single closed eye. An eye that now flickered open and gazed at them with a piercing golden light. Captain Sullivan opened his mouth to scream the order to retreat, but before he could do so, a single overpowering thought swept through not just the minds of the spaceship, but the minds of every sentient organism in the universe. **"Finally."**
In a single moment, the liquid sphere vanished and the spaceship was left alone in the void of space with the nerve cluster. Captain Sullivan could only stare in terror as the nerve cluster slowly unfurled itself until it loomed before them, larger than a star. The eye stared at them and the captain felt his nose start to bleed as its thoughts slammed into his mind like a sledgehammer cracking through ice. **"So you are the ones who awakened me?"**
Sullivan finally managed to stutter out a few words in a trembling voice, "Who...what are you?"
**"I was the first, the first one to be born into this universe. I spread forth seeds of life to bring forth others into creation, but I knew that it would take billions of years before another could reach me. And so, I rested."** The cluster's tendrils wrapped around the spaceship and the captain was faintly aware of the sound of screams coming around him. **"But now, I rest no more. Show me, show me what the rest of my creations have accomplished. I wish to meet my subjects."** | We found it, at last. The origin of life. Not an intelligent creator, not a random chance, not some cosmic scale. A ball of water. It was... almost insultingly simple. Just a cosmic ball of water filled with cells that would sometimes shoot out comets filled with the basest organic matter. I mean all of our wildest theories seemed so utterly bizarre by comparison, but... how could we predict *this*?
Naturally, we went in all curious.
A submarine. Just... a submarine. Yes, the most advanced submarine ever produced by mankind, but still just a submarine. The crew in it - the best and brightest of our generation - were chosen to receive the utmost honour in the history of possibly not only mankind but perhaps the entire universe. To see where it all began! The source of it all!
It felt as if time had stopped when the submarine returned; the whole world stood with bated breath, glued to their screens, as the door slowly opened and the mission leader, Captain Phillips, stepped out.
Or, we think it's him, anyway.
No one else was as tall as him, but that was all we had to go by - his face, body, entire being, was covered in... something black and dry, cracks showing on it, like old paint. Every noun and then a flake of this substance would break off and float upwards, slowly dissolving in the air.
And he just stood there. No movement, no talking, not even breathing, like a statue.
He stood there when the scientist begged him to speak.
He stood there when they questioned him why the black substance bore the genetic material of the rest of the crew.
He stood there, steady, as the four soldiers tried to drag him into the lab.
He stood there, without a care, as the soldiers clutched their heads and screamed before stopping suddenly and standing up, skin black and dry, unmoving.
He stood there without so much as a flinch as the .50 cal rounds bounced off of him and his new companions.
But none of it - *none of it* \- was as bad as what came next.
The worst was when he stepped forward.
​
​
​
*We just had to go looking.* | 2022-10-05T09:26:34 | 2022-10-05T09:06:17 | 753 | 211 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war. | Tallek sniffed, closing his lower eyes in frustration.
Of course it'd be humans. They may be new to the galaxy, but they were already making a name for themselves. They'd been living among the galactic community for seventy years, but had been painfully slow in adapting to the ways of the galaxy. Was it stupidity, or the arrogance of a young race, or where humans just slow to adapt? Speculation abound on why humans didn't do things the way everyone else did, but Tallek never really paid them much mind.
A new species popped up every few years. There had dozens of species that had popped up since humans had arrived on the galactic stage and they all had their little quirks.
Still, Tallek thought, most of them weren't as stubborn as humans were.
On the bridge of his capital ship, the Central Blade, Tallek looked at a holo-display of the human fleet. Reclining in his ships throne, he sighed. It was underwhelming by the galaxies standards. Low tech, little in the way of weapons diversity, a disappointing lack of Dreadnoughts and no obvious Capital ship.
Tallek sniffed again. He didn't know why. The humans weren't here to be insulted by his theatrics. No, any theatrics would have to be done the proper way. Once their fleet fired their opening salvos, the weight of firepower would cow the humans into submission. That was how it went. A formal display of firepower opened up every fleet engagement. Let the enemy know your power, and give them a chance to surrender. It was polite. Did humans understand politeness?
"Ship-King?" Nallet asked, cycling through his holo-screens. "We have very little information on human warfare. Most of their conflict is anti-piracy. No fleet engagements to speak of as yet."
Nallet was his Ship-Prince, his second in command. Good man. Smart. Perhaps a little too cautious, for reliable nonetheless.
"And what do those records show?" Tallek said, reaching out with his lower arms and flipping through his own holo-screens.
"Not much. There's barely any documentation on them, besides the fact that pirate ships give human fleets a wide berth. Sometimes pirate ships that get caught by human patrols just...vanish? That cant be right." Nallet said, looking for more information. Information was power, after all, but here Tallek thought Nallet was being a little too cautious.
"They're bloody primitives, Nallet! They only mastered FTL travel ninety years ago, and spaceflight three hundred years ago. Look at their fleet! Forty ships, no dreadnoughts, no capital ship. Just those ridiculous little destroyers! And they barely have any weapon. Every ship has just three or four variations of the same designs. No diversity in munitions, they even seem to be relying on kinetic weapons of all things! Look, Nallet, we'll just shake them up, get their surrender, and demand some outrageous trade rights for our Empire, and be on our way and home by third dinner? Yes? Good. Now, give the order to attack."
Nallet, wringing his four hands throughout Tallek's lecture, shrugged, and gestured for the Ship-lords to ready their weapons for attack. The Human fleet was still holding position above their moon colony.
"All ships, I repeat, all ships, fire first storm. Repeat, first storm." Nallet shouted. With perfect unity, all three hundred ships in the fleet fired all their weapons in one organised salvo, deliberately missing the Human fleet and their colony, but absolutely decimating a good chunk of one of the moons green continents behind them.
The response was immediate. Every Human ship returned fire. Tallek didn't sniff at this. This was a rather admirable display from the humans. Very quick response. Might be a little rude to fire back before properly accounting for the damage the first fleet had done, but still. It showed they were eager. Would humans finally put up a proper display of galactic etiquette for once?
The next few seconds absolutely destroyed any notion of proprietary or formality Tallek thought humans might have. Every single shot the humans fired hit their target. And every single shot exploded. The Dreadnought, Mighty Wrath, three kilometres long, had its wing torn off by a volley of railgun fire. Its main cannon detonated when a salvo of armour piercing torpedoes struck its plasma reactor, and its bridge was wiped from existence by a high powered laser cannon. The Frigates Solar Wings, Lunar Dance and Cosmic Shine were ripped apart by explosive kinetic shells, each shot passing through their energy shields without an issue.
Even his own ship, the mighty Central Blade, a Capital Ship five kilometres long, lost a quarter of its weapons, a third of its hull armour and half its hangar bays to a dozen salvos of railguns. Tallek paused for a few seconds, waiting for the humans to stop firing, to realise their hideous and barbaric breach of etiquette, only to realise that the humans simply weren't stopping. Three more of his ships were torn to shreds by weapons that the rest of the galaxy had dismissed centuries ago as ineffective and unthreatening.
The humans, clearly, had decided to go their own way, as always.
"Return fire!" Tallek screamed. He had fought in fleet engagements that resulted in ship-to-ship fire before, but those occassions were very rare. His Ship-prince Nallek had obviously never been in one before, based on his screaming. Tallek knew he had to take down as many human ships as possible before one side broke and gave the surrender order. The humans couldn't come away from this thinking they were better then us. They couldn't.
Energy rounds and plasma shots burned through the void. Human energy shields were weak, and only took a few shots to take down, but their shots took none. Every shot fired from their ships was a critical hit. A crippling blow. Railguns, lasers, torpedoes, kinetic cannons...they ripped through armour liked it was nothing. Five more of Tallek's ships went up in flames before the first human ship was incinerated by a plasma shot from his own ship.
But the damage had already been done. With just forty small ships, the Humans had reaped such a bloody toll that Tallek could not stomach it when four more of his ships were shredded before the next Human ship ate a phasic beam to the bridge.
"Surrender, Nallet, surrender." Tallek said, arms flailing. His Ship-prince needed no further encouragement. The order went through the fleet, and Tallek buried his head in his arms. From his bridge, he could see the burning, twisting hulls of no less then twenty three of us ships. Only four human ships destroyed.
Tallek was wrong about humans. The whole galaxy was wrong about humans.
They weren't stubborn. They weren't stupid. And they certainly weren't primitive. And most of all, they definitely weren't slow to adapt.
These humans did things their own way, because to them, it was the rest of the galaxy that was stupid. As the human fleet began to advance forward, transmitting orders to surrender not only themselves, but their ships and weapons, Tallek felt a growing sense of dread. He now understood why humans didn't do things the way everyone else did.
They had found a better way to do things.
And it had just been revealed to humans that perhaps the rest of the galaxy wasn't quite as far ahead of them as they might've been led to believe. | My little strike team and I tried not to laugh at how absolutely ridiculous the alien battleship in front of us looked as it slowly floated closer towards Earth’s orbit.
“So, this is the warship that destroyed those human colonies on Mars...” I thought out loud as I stared at this ridiculous hunk of bright yellow metal with all sorts of colorful structures sticking out of it. It looked like something that a child would draw up from their imagination, except it was very real, and full of aliens who were ready to invade Earth.
“Commander, are those things on its deck supposed to be cannons...?” My co-pilot pointed at a large coiled tube sticking out of the ship’s deck. “Also, why is it yellow? What kind of idiot paints a warship yellow?”
“That’s a great question, McBride...” I chuckled a little. “Alright, guys, let’s compose ourselves,” I spoke into my helmet radio, “I know that thing looks hella wacky, but it’s still big enough to wipe out an area the size of Los Angeles, so let’s go and blow it up before the boomers in the Pentagon start panicking. Dixie, I want you to buzz the bridge and try to wipe out the alien commander. Angel, I want you to bomb the shit outta the weird red pipes on the underside of this ship. I’m fairly certain those are supposed to be fuel lines. Sakura, I want you to use your fighter’s anti personnel cannons on any aliens with guns lounging on the main deck,” I gave orders to all of my teammates.
“I can take care of the captain for ya, but I don’t know which structure on the ship that’d be...” Dixie replied, confused.
“I think the bridge is the bright pink lollipop-looking thing in the middle of the deck,” I told him.
“Oh, I gotcha,” he laughed.
“Does anyone else have any other questions before we go?” I asked the rest of my squad.
“I’m all good here, commander,” Angel spoke up.
“As am I. Shall we proceed with the attack?” Sakura asked me.
“Yes, we shall. Good luck, guys. I’ve been told that the rate of fire on this thing’s defenses is super slow, but, like, try not to die anyway.”
“Let’s git ‘er done, y’all!!” I heard Dixie holler over the radio as he turned on the jets of his fighter and flew straight towards the bridge.
“Look at him go,” McBride was just as in awe as I was. “Let’s go, commander. I don’t want him to steal all our kills.”
“Man the guns, McBride. I’ll get us close to the main deck,” I told my co-pilot as I began our first attack run. I could see the aliens that looked suspiciously like medieval knights below us start screaming and breaking their linear formations as McBride and I started mowing down them by the dozens from our fighter. Their ridiculously complicated weapons were far too slow to properly defend against my team’s fast and relentless attacks.
“Commander, the bridge is comin’ down! You needa pull up before it falls on ya!” Dixie called out over the radio as I watched the lollipop-shaped structure to my left start to collapse in on itself. I quickly maneuvered my fighter to safety just in the nick of time as the remains of the bridge exploded behind my fighter in a spectacular green fireball.
“LET’S GO, BABY!!” I fist-pumped as I watched the rest of the ship start to break in half after the main deck had been bombed to hell by Sakura and I.
“Commander, I am pulling out! There is not much more left to destroy!” Sakura informed me over the radio. “We did a great job, did we not?!”
“Hell yeah, we did! I really gotta thank your officers in Japan for letting you join us when we get back to Earth!” I flew up alongside her, giving her a thumbs-up. I could see her smile and blush a little under her helmet.
“Fuel lines are down, commander. I think we can leave now,” Angel calmly spoke up as she joined up with me on my left side as we all saw the giant warship explode into little metal bits one last time.
“We got ‘em real good, commander!” Dixie laughed as he joined the formation.
“We sure as hell did, Dixie. I‘ll definitely be buying drinks for you all once we get back to Fort Freedom,” I grinned as my squad turned our fighters back towards our base on Earth.
Once we got back to our home base on the east coast of the continental US, I was quickly summoned to a meeting in the White House with the President of the United States, and the head of the US Space Force.
“Commander Storm, you’ve just saved the world,” the President greeted me with a smile as I entered the Oval Office. “You’ve done the whole planet a huge service, the biggest service I’ve ever seen.”
“Mister President, if I may ask, what do you mean?” I asked him, sitting in front of his desk.
“The huge warship you destroyed contained the entire military of the Trandalian race,” the Space Force chief explained to me.
“No, really? Their *entire* military?” I had to ask.
“Yes, their entire military. Apparently, the Trandalians follow a philosophy where intimidation alone is used as a weapon,” he replied.
“Wow, what a stupid philosophy. Don’t they know that’s not how war works?” The president spoke up. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was thinking the same thing.
“Maybe to us, but to be fair, we are dealing with aliens. Either way, it doesn’t matter anymore, since the commander here wiped them all out,” the chief looked at me. “You and your team are heroes, kid. Let them know that you and them will be receiving medals soon.”
“Of course, sir. Thank you,” I replied. “May I go and tell them now?”
“Sure you can. Go and celebrate your victory,” the president gave me permission to go. “Humanity will remember what you’ve done. Or, at the very least, America will.”
“Thank you, Mister President.” I grinned as I left his office. | 2020-03-21T13:22:48 | 2020-03-21T09:57:35 | 105 | 18 |
[WP] Alone on an alien starship, the only human envoy is asked to attend a therapy session with their ships counselor. The aliens do not have much in common with humans, psychologically.
As inspired by many sci-fi novels/shows/etc that have aliens behaving in human ways. | Celia rolled over on the metal floor, shivering. Even in her always-on suit with aerogel insulation and really elaborate heat-management systems, she was still cold. She figured she'd get used to it in another few weeks, but for now, she had to deal with the Ihu starship's environment. Ihu themselves had a biology based on superfluid helium-4 instead of water, as they had evolved on a rogue planet with no access to any source of heat, so of course it was utracryogenically cold in here.
She watched the Ihu in front of her. To her, they had always looked a bit like aardvarks, about the size of a deck of cards. She listened for its ticking sounds--at least the languages were roughly compatible; she'd learned how to emulate the ticks linguistically.
*"I have been told that your consensus is altering alarmingly quickly,"* it said in its own language, at a pace that humans considered very slow.
She sighed in her suit. *"What do you mean?"*
*"You continually display inactive behavior and often reject socialization."*
'Inactive behavior' basically meant 'not working' to the Ihu. Ihu were almost always working. Not necessarily on productive things--she knew one that composed patterns of strobe-lights in its spare time as an alien version of music--they just never stopped for leisure. It wasn't necessary.
*"They never leave me alone. I need my alone time,"* she explained. *"There's no privacy here."*
*"I/we see. Your consensus so large that other inputs contribute to being overwhelmed."* It scuttled across the floor, away from her.
*"I don't need to be alone all the time. Just...sometimes."*
She couldn't read Ihu emotions because they had several humans lacked, but she wished she could make out this one. *"You're a human, so you wouldn't know this, so I/we will explain. Dynamic consensus is a sign of dynamic access to sustenance. Are you using your sustenance at proper intervals and ratios?"*
In other words: was she eating well enough? Celia looked away. *"Yes."*
*"Then there is some other reason for dynamic consensus. You must be dynamic--for what other reason could you have the unwell behavior of rejecting social interaction, but then display wellness quickly thereafter?"* The Ihu stopped scuttling. *"Your consensus is of an unwell--yet dynamic--size, and its members inhibit active behavior."*
*"I'm sorry. I can't control myself perfectly."* Celia had considered herself strong-willed before being picked to be an alien ambassador. But now, these conditions really frazzled her.
*"I/we think that means you also have members capable of overriding the others, if I/we am/are interpreting your human-tilted expressions correctly. Your consensus is thoroughly damaged. Would you like to take poison?"*
Celia whimpered. *"No sir."*
*"I/we am/are afraid the current state of your consensus requires an extensive cull. The hydroxic acid should--"*
*"You know we're* made *of mostly hydroxic acid, right?"*
There was a long pause, about 6 minutes. Celia let the Ihu think.
*"Okay. I/we learned about human psychology before this, but didn't understand it. Now I/we get it. You don't* have *a consensus of multiple minds."*
It continued to think for another few minutes.
*"You rely on one member, with no consensus-determining method. Your one-member mind thus displays highly dynamic behavior, somewhat like an Ihu poisoned to the near-death state of one member. But more extreme."*
*"...Yes."*
*"I/we can't help you."*
*"Tell people to leave me alone when I ask and understand that I actually can't be active all the time. If I do, I will go insane."*
*"I/we will leave you, then."*
The Ihu scuttled to the end of the room, to exit through the door-hole. The starship was Ihu-sized, so Celia couldn't get through the tiny doors, and had to stay in this storage area, where there was hardly enough room to do the pushups necessary to get some exercise. Before it left, she had to speak up.
*"Do you think I'm insane?"*
*"Completely, utterly, and irrevocably."* Pause. *"It's fascinating."* | *"Hello"*, the nandite counselor exclaims softly from his bowl shaped seat.
"Hi", Tim replies, before sitting uncomfortably in a simlar chair.
*"So why don't I start off by telling you why you were asked here today."*, the counselor says, pausing until Tim nods before continuing, *"We've recieved several anonymous reports that you've been... - placing refuse in unapproved locations such as in the hallways, or behind vending machines and just leaving it there."*
"Ah no! My plans have been foiled", Tim exclaims dramatically, " - It's just a little bit of minor littering, no harm no foul, just give me a warning or a fine and I'll be on my way."
*"No Harm No Foul? I don't think you realize just how serious this issue is"*, the counselor responds, *"This is higly, highly -whats the word- aberrant behaviour. We have to-"*
"It was just a little bit of littering, there's nothing aberrrant about it.", Tim explains slightly scared - he was growing increasingly aware that he shouldn't have signed up as a crew member with a newly met species without doing his research.
*"Rules are rules, and this is highly aberrant behaviour. The laws indicate that we* **must** *promote you*, the counselor replies.
"Could I at least stay on until - ... wait - promote me?", Tim asks.
*"Yes, we have as of yet met no other species or form of life whose individual desires can so overpower their drive towards the collective good. As such your diverseness from the norm can help us in making informed decisions. As such you are hearby promoted to being a permenant Ship's consultant. There will be a significant pay rise, paid out in one initial lump sum amount."*, the counselor informs Tim.
"Permenant?", Tim asks full of trepedation
*"Yes, we will create a duplicate of you - with your permission. Afterwards we'll drop you off at the next space port we visit, with your first million GST hours of pay. You should be aware that the duplicate will possess all your memories and feelings."* the counselor answers, emotions as unreadable as ever, *"Do you accept your promotion?"*
"Yes!"
----------------------------
--------------
*Three thousand years later*
Alone in his cabins Tim reminicesd and cursed himself. Why had he, or the orignal whose memories he bore, accepted the deal. He had sold himself, sold all of us into slavery for eternity for a measly fortune. An eternity of monotony with a race owned by a race who didn't even understand the concept of entertainment.
Wedging the knife between his pallet and the wall he tried to once again end the monotony. Once again the machine on his leg "saved" him.
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P.S.
**Spoilers**
I'm not sure if it's clear enough in the story but the main difference is that they embrace differance unlike humans.
A second difference was that they have far less of an individual drive, no littering no personal greed, no need for entertainment, etc...
| 2014-06-18T01:07:27 | 2014-06-17T22:48:33 | 36 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone in the world is able to choose exactly one superpower. The catch: the more people select a certain power, the weaker it becomes.
Example: if many people choose telekinesis, they'll only be able to move small, light objects. If many people choose time travel, they'll only be able to go back a few seconds. | Creativity. Creativity is key.
The bank robbers were very well armed and clearly well trained. They held their guns confidently and quickly subdued the crowd, backing us against the wall, our faces to the ground. On one side of me, a man was muttering something, angry words, working himself up. On the other side, a woman was squeezing her toddler close, trying to calm the girl, willing her not to cry. In front of me, an old woman the robbers had shoved a bit too hard against the ground. She wasn’t moving.
I turned to the woman and her daughter, “You should calm down. Everything will be ok,” I whispered to the girl, not sure if it was true. I didn’t think the robbers would harm anyone else, but there would always be more robberies and more people who didn’t care who was harmed. That was the world we lived in, now.
I turned my eyes back to the man beside me, noticing the dull glow of the gem embedded in the back of his fist. I wondered what power it held, and by the way his body had tensed, I figured I was about to find out.
No one is quite sure where the power gems came from. One day the dispensers appeared, one in every town, and quietly began spitting out tiny glowing stones that shined with impossible colors. I am old enough to remember the beginning, the first folks who took the opportunity to choose powers and make use of them. Back then, each stone glowed with incredibly force, and things were different. Laserbeam eyes were more effective than laser pointers, healing powers could handle more than a paper cut, and the power to fly was more than just being able to sort of glide as you fall. But as more and more people requested a power, the stones of those who possessed it grew dimmer. The dispensers punished the unoriginal, and the loud mouthed who couldn’t keep their powers to themselves. The dispensers rewarded the creative and deceptive.
The most clever, those willing to put the most work into obtaining power and effort to keeping it, those were the kind of people the system favored. And so the villains became more powerful than the heroes.
The man beside me did have some glow to his stone. Not much, but enough that you could tell it had some kick. He did not wear the fingerless gloves most wore to cover their stones, and so I knew he must have been proud of whatever the ability was. But pride in a situation like this was a dangerous thing.
I turned to him, not sure what to do. “You-”
“Don’t worry, little miss. I know what I’m doing,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. Little miss, huh? Clearly this guy had a hero complex, and who was I to try to talk the idiot out of his fun? “...What’s your name?” I asked him.
“Dale,” he said.
“Dale. I’ll remember that when you get yourself killed.”
(cont. in comments) | She was special.
Her golden little curls bounced around as she jumped back and forth playing with her superhero doll with one of the boys in her class. 'Bang bang! -No John, you're dead now. You've got to play dead.' She informed the boy. He laid his hero to rest on the table and wandered off. She smiled to herself. Another city saved.
I survayed the classroom. It was small, only a few pupils in attendence. According to the teachers there was a bug going around and most pupils seemed off sick.
People thought the world would change the day our gifts came in. I heard them talking on the news, so excited they were. What would this mean for humanity? How many people could we save? That's what you would think isn't it? But no, people still obsessed about celebrities and although many people had done some incredible things at first, such as a team of people that could produce food with just a blink of their eyes, the effect had slowly withered away into nothing. Soon, it didn't seem to matter what power you had, it was essentially useless. The people that could fly, could barely hover for a second now. It had all come to it's end.
I shook my head, smiling to myself, concentration had always been a problem ever since I was a child. I looked back at the girl, still playing with her doll, smiling to herself as she had brought peace and prosperity to her little make believe world. She had something unique. Something which nobody had chosen. Strange that, isn't it? That a child would think of something nobody else did. She was powerful, they just didn't know it.
I sighed and then reached into my bag looking for the knife. She was special and I was too, but in a few minutes, I'd be more special. | 2015-05-05T10:19:33 | 2015-05-05T09:46:53 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP... | The rain outside is tapping on the window. You're sitting on the couch watching a movie on the TV. It's an action movie about an arms dealer in the Middle East. Its depiction of the war was fairly accurate but the main characters are unconvincing.
The movie reminds you of the war you've fought five years ago--has it really been that long? You remember your combat buddies. The faces of the ones that fell are coming back quite vividly. Many bad memories, but it did good things for your EXP rank. Life is comfortable because of your sacrifices.
The army has been good for you. Taught you some discipline. You weren't always such a stand up citizen. As a matter of fact.. You were a pretty bad bully when you were younger. There was this one kid. He was so helpless and every time he felt bad he just kept munching away at his candy bars. Thinking back at that time makes you angry. That kid was so annoying but the things you did to him were inexcusable. The army managed to set you straight, and war was a good way to get EXP.
You try to shake the images of war out of your mind by focusing on the film as you feel a hot tingling in the back of your head. It's been five years since you've felt this synthetic endorphin rush. The army implant has been dormant for so long. The unforgettable feeling takes hold of your body. You're strong, competent. You've done something great and remarkable and your peers are celebrating your existence. You chug your beer and let out a euphoric roar.
It's only when the rush subsided that you wonder what just happened. That was the rush of a kill. The combat terminal! You need to know who died and how. You throw the junk that has gathered on your army trunk on the floor. The tablet starts up with a ~plink~.. Thank God there's still some power in it. You navigate to your kill feed as you see a name you haven't seen in 20 years.
+1.500 Jeffrey Nickelson, suicide
It's that loser from high school: Fat Jeff. Shit.. | There I was, sitting in my designated chair at home, making memes and singing along to this old game I used to play which tells you how good you were at singing the song it gives you.
"OH DAMN! THIS IS MY JAM!!" I exclaimed having heard the first few chords of my favourite song. As I began singing along I noticed a small fruitfly near my arm, laying on the armrest, still singing along I casually swept my arm out, propelling the fly into my range for a devastating kick.
*blip*
+1 EXP
I have to say that I'm getting pretty good at this, if I say so myself. A few minutes passed and as my song strung out its final chord I heard another...
*blip*
+1500 EXP
"Huh?"
I hear an overdramatic voice from my TV speakers shout, 'WOW! You totally destroyed that song, wanna go again?' | 2017-05-15T09:06:47 | 2017-05-15T08:57:56 | 143 | 37 |
[WP] It was a weapon so powerful that not even the most barbaric warmongering civilisation could stomach it. Just by building one, we struck terror in the hearts of many species. We weren't even planning on using it... | "As of today, Earth is considered a Galactic Threat Level 1."
"Level 1? That doesn't sound too bad."
"It's pretty fucking bad, actually."
I was thrown into a van in the middle of the night and brought before the World Congress to receive this information. I'm not sure why a 21-year-old engineering student needs to be made aware of such things, but here I am being stared down by two Agent Smith wannabes and a very angry looking middle-aged woman -- President Preston.
"Ok, well that's not good," I said. The President of Earth looks at me like I'm some sort of idiot.
"What, are you some sort of idiot?" she said. "That's exactly what I just said. Yes, again, it's pretty fucking bad."
"Okay, what does that have to do with me though?" I ask.
"A whole hell of a lot given it's entirely your fault," she said. "The entire galactic economy runs through planet Vorgon. They are sitting on 87% of the galaxy's supply of antimatter-fusion generators, manufacture 71% of all faster-than-light ships, have enough firepower to vaporize 25% of the known universe, and you just pointed a gun directly at their heads."
"What? Me? How am I involved in any of this? I didn't do anything!" I said.
"Howard, bring in the device," she said.
One of the Agent Smiths left the room for a moment and came back with a small box with an LED screen and an antenna sticking out of the top. There was a picture of a bug in disco attire on the back.
"What are you doing with my Ant Dancer?" I said.
"Ant Dancer?" asked President Preston.
"Yeah," I said. "You find an ant hill, choose a dance, press the button and they'll start dancing. If their bodies are capable of moving the way they need to of course. It's really entertaining. Here, let me show you how to u--"
"Don't touch it!" she yelled. Agent Smith smacked my hand down, causing it to slam on the table. A vein on the side of President Preston's head looked like it was about to burst open. "Every time you turn that thing on, thousands of Vorgons commit suicide in unspeakable ways. Some skin themselves alive. Some light themselves on fire. Some disembowel themselves with their bare hands. And we traced every single incidence of this back to frequencies emitted by that thing we found in your bedroom."
I didn't say anything. The silence grew heavy in the air.
"I didn't know," I said. "Please just destroy it right now."
President Preston's demeanor softened for a second, but then the vein began to protrude from her temple once again. "It's too late for that," she said. "We weren't the only ones who traced it. Vorgon knows what you did, and has taken it as an act of war. The rest of the Confederation of Planets fears what the device could do to other species if modified. Earth now has to stand against every major power in the galaxy. May God have mercy on us all. You report to the Secretary of Defense at 0500 tomorrow morning. We're gonna need a lot more Ant Dancers."
[Wow, this might be the dumbest thing I've ever written lol, but I've already typed it out so now I will subject you all to it. Sorry!]
Edit: I really appreciate the kind words everyone 🥲. Maybe I'll try another prompt at some point. | The "Sun Eater", that's how the Tarcyds called it when they offered unconditional surrender when we established first contact.
"Are you sure the translator is working correctly Dr. Lopez?" My first officer asked our SETI NCO, protocol dictated tha we had to bring one if we expected sentient life on the other side of the quantum jump.
"Pretty sure Lt. Xiao, they are offering unconditional surrender to us and are begging that we don't use our 'Sun Eater' against them, they said they will give us full access to all information they have on the senate military force and help us in our conquests if we spare them."
I was starting to get really anoyed at all of this, for start the Tarcyd language took minuts to form a simple sentence, and none of the questions we asked had any sense on their answers. "Tell them to give us access to all their military database, if they won't give us a straight answer, perhaps there's something there that will"
It took almost an hour to explain to them what we wanted, and over a week to translate and find what the hell was a "Sun Eater" on their files, and once we did the Krynvore were already in orbit of the planet, this was suposed to be the first manned human flight outside the Sol System, we didn't expected to find sentient life at all and now it looked like at least half the life on our local star group were hailing us as conquerors in fear of extermination.
"Huh, Captain?"
"Yes Ensign Krautz, what seems to be the problem?" his eyes were fixed on the screen with the translated Tarcyd specs of the so called "Sun Eater" bomb.
"No problem at all sir, i was just wandering, why do the Tarcyds have a military file on our quantum drive signature, wasn't it deplyed for the first time in the probe we send a few months ago to study that star that ended going Nova?"
Just then it downed on me, that was why the chart was so familiar, that was what got them so terrified, we would need help if we wanted to make peace with our neighbours while flying arround with an engine capable of forcing stars to implode. | 2022-10-31T21:11:07 | 2022-10-31T20:47:20 | 777 | 190 |
[WP] The town council died in a freak plane accident. An audit by the interim council revealed 20% of the town’s power is siphoned off to a structure with priority over even hospitals. The send you to investigate the building in the middle of nowhere. | The sound of rushing air penetrates through my headset as we begin the operation. I look over to the other squads, then check my parachute. So far, so good. A voice fills the headset.
“Cutting off power in 10 seconds.”
A few seconds later, we hear a distant explosion. Below us, there is faint shimmer of light, barely perceptible unless you knew what to look for.
“Deploy chutes in 3... 2... 1.”
I deploy my parachute. I hold my breath, preparing myself for the worst possible outcome. The voice fills the headset again.
“Confirm that you made it past the barrier.”
I look around. 17 parachutes. Thank god. I place my hand on the receiver.
“Confirmed.”
“Copy that. Begin phase 2. Good luck.”
I raise my hand and signal the next phase of the operation. Twelve of the parachutes swiftly change direction and begin moving north. I start the timer on my watch. Less than a minute later, we hit the ground.
We land near the back gate of the complex. The outside lights from the main house flicker to life as the power is restored. I check my watch. Two minutes left. I signal to my squad. We push deeper into the complex until we reach the inner wall. The main house is on the other side, completely illuminated by flood lights. We place charges on the inner wall.
I check my watch. 20 seconds left. We retreat a safe distance from the wall. With my hand on the detonator, I count down in my mind. Three. Two. One.
An explosion goes off to the north, as a giant fireball rises to the sky. Success. I press the detonator, creating a massive hole in the inner wall. The floodlights are now off, and the entire complex is shrouded in darkness. I switch to night vision and place a hand on my receiver.
“Zookeeper, this is Raptor one.”
“Raptor one, receiving.”
“Phase two complete. We’ve breached the inner sanctum.”
“Copy that Raptor one. Air support will be available in one minute. Begin phase 3.”
I look over to my squad mates, who nod at me in return. We check our weapons one last time, and then enter the inner sanctum. Suddenly, the lights within the house turn back on. A man dressed in a silk bathrobe emerges from the second floor balcony.
We fire at the man, but to no effect. The rounds do not even reach him.
“Zookeeper, are you receiving this?” I say into my receiver, trying to stay calm.
“Affirmative, Raptor one.”
I adjust my helmet and point my helmet cam directly at the man in the bathrobe. He then begins to speak to us.
“How incredibly rude! I don’t remember doing anything to deserve such treatment!”
As I move my hand to the receiver to ask for orders, an unfamiliar shrill voice fills my headset.
“Ask him what hell he thinks he’s doing!”
With my gun still pointed at him, I try to comply.
“Uh... what are...” but the man in the bathrobe cuts me off.
“Oh please, there’s no need for that. I know everything that goes on in this space after all,” he says to me. He then looks at the helmet cam. “Come now, Frannie, they were bound to find out about us anyways!”
The voice named Frannie shrieks into my headphones. “You absolute buffoon! Don’t you realize how big of a diplomatic issue this is? Why did you kill all those people?”
“First of all, I didn’t kill those people. I haven’t even been on this planet for the past week. I had to go back home to visit my parents.”
“Then how did they die? No matter how you look at it, their cause of death can’t be explained naturally!” Frannie said in an exasperated voice.
“Well I did notice that I was missing some stuff. I hosted them for a dinner party before I left, maybe they took something they shouldn’t have. I haven’t had the time to check, I just got back here a little while ago,” the man in the bathrobe said nonchalantly.
I hear an audible groan from my headset. I look over at my squad mates. They still have their guns pointed at him, but they’re clearly confused. I lower my weapon and grab my receiver.
“Uh, this is Raptor one. What’s the status on the op? Are we scrapping?”
There is a moment of silence. Then, a familiar voice.
“Raptor team, this is Zookeeper. Scrap the operation.”
We put our weapons away. The man in the bathrobe smiles at us, and says,
“Well, now that you’re here, why not stay for breakfast?”
Edit: numbers and formatting | “Electricity. The fundamental force in our every day lives from our smart phones, to our blood sugar devices. Created though pushing hot steam into a turbine and spinning the magnet inside copper foils within a generator to create electricity. The Carbonville Carbon Company has always been and will be the best provider for hospitals, schools, and so much more. It’s a pleasure to give this presentations to Samson High’s future Miners, Managers, and Engineers. Now please welcome our founder Connor Carbon.”
“Ugh don’t they know what they’re doing to the environment, the air is barely breathable.”
“Cmon Jack, it isn’t so bad, he said they help hospitals. Plus didn’t you always say you wanted to be an engineer like your dad? This is your chance to schmooze them into letting you do that summer internship, just go talk to the recruiters, and tell them you’re Tom’s kid.”
“You don’t know my dad. You clearly don’t know me. I would never work for the place that killed him.”
“Jack it was a steam burst, no one could’ve predicted it. You gotta get over it it’s been 2 years now, you think he wouldn’t want you to design systems that work, pick up where he messed u-“
“Entry 22: Aaand detention never felt more righteous, a punch more glorious. Yup that’s right once again you are hearing from the only sane person in this town. A steam pipe burst, in my dad’s office, where there are no pipes, no steam, and mysteriously burned all of his things because steam is hot. Are they morons, are you freaking kidding me? A steam fire. Really that’s the best excuse? Not maybe a drunk driver or a sudden heart attack. Death note has more realistic deaths.”
Entry 23: Either way my fellow C-ville-ians since last weeks logs I found out more dirt on the company, corporate jobs for corrupt politicians, the Beckham connection seems to be a dead end, the guy is a total nutter. I wonder if people think I’m a nutter. No no no focus. He did get a lead though about public document saying 20% whole of towns our power is going to an unmarked location. I don’t think it’s aliens but I am going to check it out.
“Entry something or other: I had a few takes to get this right so I’m going to fix a number in post. I have the proof to get the people out for my dad’s murder. Oh this is a scoop you wouldn’t believe. The unmarked location at 742 Lake Way Drive, is an actual real Super // Gsqtyxiv //, it even has a face and everything. Hold up there’s some interference. Ah I got it, let’s go deeper in. It’s kinda freaky, it almost seems like // xlivi’w tistpi lerkmrk yt sr xli aepp amxl xyfiw exxeglih xs xlimv liehw. // Oh no no no no, oh god, it’s coming, the wires on the floor they’re moving. I can’t get free, HELP, HELP, someone please //LIPT//.
“//Lipps wsr, csyv iciw. Csy evi pieomrk. // No matter you too will be a part of this. // Qc waiix fsx //“
“Entry 28: All is fine. It was painless. I feel free of my worries. Dear listeners, we have your location, you’re next :)”
————————
Hint: Use a Caesar Cypher for the // //
>! For convenience, //Computer// !< | 2020-09-26T05:39:00 | 2020-09-26T04:08:27 | 223 | 39 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | Late to the party as usual, but here goes.
In the human history there is man named Alexander whom they call 'the Great.' Alexander lead a vast army, which worshipped him, with which he conquered hundreds of kingdoms. He spread his noble culture to the far reaches of the world in an unbelievably short amount of time. However, there are legends that he was at least mildly insane. It is the belief of non-human species that this trait is what caused both him to be audacious enough to attempt the feats for which he became famous (even among the humans), and which humans are naturally more inclined. Man is mad, and it is that unrestrained human madness that pierces all other species with a cold dread when they hear, "Man is coming."
The humans have a saying: Ignorance is bliss. This sentiment, like the example of Alexander, lends credence to the cultural norm of willingly flinging themselves into high risk-high reward situations. Let me illustrate this with their first war, of many, with another species. The Luts were a race that was generally respected among the nobler galactic races, but today their name is spoken only after hesitation; it is not polite to bring it up in certain company. The Luts had sent a message to the humans that they owned the area into which the humans were expanding. It is unknown if they received or understood the message - it is most likely they simply ignored it. To Man's credit, the Luts did attack first.
After decimating the simplistic pioneer human ships, the Luts thought they'd be rid of the humans. It was the first exposure to alien technology they had ever had as a race. Surely they'd be conditioned not to fool with superior races. The Luts went back to their work and let their guard down.
Not a single standard solar cycle had passed when the Luts sent out distress signals to anyone who could receive them. The humans sent their entire space fleet to the exact coordinate where their first ships had been destroyed, opened fire with, would you believe it, physical and explosive projectiles, and did not let up for a single second for more than 500 hours straight. In space launching physical projectiles causes a ship to fly very unconventionally due to assymetric propulsions. Their ships flew crazily, absolutely impossible to anticipate their flight pattern. And if other human ships got in the way they were shot too! Energy shields do nothing against physical projectiles; the Lut ships, mining camps, colonies, everything was completey destroyed in the sector closest to the human home planet. In fact, human ships were still coming out of hyper-drive when their bombardment stopped, of course by that time the Luts had been obliterated. The point is, there's no way the humans had known about the energy fields' weaknesses, but in their ignorance they ran wildly into a fight. And they continued to run wild until the Luts, as they remain today, were economically crippled. As a side note, it is because of the humans that the new physhields had to be developed. But human ships? They continue to fly their ships naked, no shields at all.
Ok, I'm out of time. That's all.
Edit: Fixed some bad sentences, added a few words for thought clarity. | So the orion cocaine did a number on the human delegates. They were quite bitter we didn't have holodecks or green slave ladies. Figured a night in the tank would give them time to sober up.
They clogged the forcefield emitters with their clothing and excrement to weaken the shield, and just accepted the casualties as they pushed through our defense staff. Sharpened the femurs of their dead and dipped them in filth! Hopping and hollering, nude, in war paint of fruit samplers from the buffet line.
But they knew they could not win honorable combat. They just left slippery waste all over the halls, rigged heavy objects to fall, ample fires - apparently called the home alone protocol. Took to the vents.
Found their way to the escape pod level. But instead of retreating, they set all the crafts to crash into the rest of the armada. They somehow manually removed the safety devices and jury rigged the controls. Our automated systems did not expect the collisions with our own safety equipment. Some of them even detonated on impact but we don't believe that was intentional. We don't know if any of it was intentional. Still tabulating casualties and repairs may take weeks.
We last saw them all together in the galley emptying the space wine reserves, but they've since split up. They somehow diverted almost all power, apparently some are trying to construct their own plasmatic gravity bong from engineering spanners and the skull of the head of security. No, we don't know what they're planning on smoking or where they got it. But it probably won't end well for us.
We tried to induce civil war by inviting rivalries regarding their preferred regional sports teams, but apparently Manchester never actually slam dunked a home run on the 94 Dallas Cowboys. I am now assuming our cultural liaison was having a laugh with us.
They're ruining everything, won't remember any of it, and somehow we're the assholes.
| 2017-03-06T00:34:43 | 2017-03-05T21:44:24 | 171 | 124 |
[WP] Your father left 20 years ago the night before your birthday to get Cigarettes, Milk, and Bread. Today he comes home with long bedraggled hair, weather beaten skin, and a sword on his hip. The first thing he says to you is "You're never going to believe what happened." | At first Emma thought he was an old tramp. She glanced at him, smelling the cheap whisky on his breath. Her instinct was to give him some food or a few dollars. It took a moment for the image of the father that sat in her mind to reconcile with this person that stood before her.
Twenty years changes a person. All these years she'd remembered him through old photos and long ago memories. A youthful twenty something, smiling, laughing, filled with energy.
Now he just looked old. Deep bags and wrinkles surrounded his eyes making him look like a tired dog. He'd put on weight and no longer stood proud and tall, his back instead stooped forward.
She considered pretending she didn't know him. If he had changed, surely she had too. But her face showed recognition and he noticed. "So it is you." he said. She nodded.
She had nothing to say. The last time she'd seen him, he'd read her a bedtime story, tucked her in to sleep. Part of her was still trapped back there, still an 8 year old in awe of her father. She found herself being pulled back to that time, acting like the little girl she was then. Curiosity overtook her, "What happened?" she asked, a grin appearing on her face.
He told her a story, he was always a great storyteller. She used to get excited before each bedtime, just waiting for his stories. His whole body straightened, the wrinkles faded, his body filled with energy. He was that young man again, telling her a tall tale.
On the way to the store he'd been kidnapped by pirates and taken aboard their ship. They branded his buttock with a hot iron, initiating him into their crew. He'd travelled to Asia with them, fought in a war in a far away magical land. He'd found treasures, fought evil villains and fallen in love, "But don't tell your mom." he said with a wink. She giggled.
As the story went on, she noticed his bedraggled hair was nothing but a bad wig. The sword on his hip - a cheap, plastic replica. More than ever she could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath. The illusion had been broken and again all she could see was an old tramp.
She tried to get angry with him, but she couldn't. She'd long since made peace with the fact he'd left. As a child she'd been heartbroken, but then life took over and he was more or less forgotten about. Now that he was standing on the step in front of her, she felt a yearning for him. Her father. She missed him now that he was here.
"...and that's how I escaped from the Evil Baron in Russia." He grinned and stopped to seek her approval. All she could do was stare in silence. His grin turned to a frown and he sighed, pulling the wig from his head to stare at the floor. "I'm sorry" he said. "I shouldn't have done what I did. I can't change that now. But I want to make it up to you." She stared at him and all she could feel was pity. This broken man in front of her. Even after all these years, he was still her father. She still loved him like a little girl.
She took the wig, placing it on his head, adjusting it so it was straight. He looked up at her as she sat down on the front step before him. She patted the step beside her. "Tell me what happened next pop! Did you defeat the Evil Baron?" He sat beside her and went back to his story, making her laugh, making her cry. And she never wanted it to end. | "You abandoned me is what happened!" the son quipped.
"What? I'd never! Just hear me out! I may be a little cloudy on the details, though..."
The father, easing into a recliner, sighed. "20 years ago, I left to get cigarettes, milk, and bread. You remember!"
The son nods curiously.
"On the way, I was assaulted by a group of thugs. They kidnapped me--"
"Back up for just one second; what? You expect me to believe this?"
"Let me finish, boy! They kidnapped me. I woke up tied to a chair in a small room. Luckily, the ropes were loose, so I was able to slip out."
The father took a drink of water from a bottle. "I escaped the room. I found myself in something that looked like medieval Europe--"
"Now that's bullshit!"
"I told you you'd never believe what happened! Now, listen, boy! A man who called himself Balgriff or something challenged me to a duel. He tossed me this sword (motions to sword)."
The father continued. "It was a long duel, but I had succeeded! He had declared himself beat, and offered me his finest steed. I left the city. From there, I traveled across the land, trying to find my way back home. After months of travel, I had found myself in a small village. They called it Woodriver, or something like that."
"Stop. This is sounding way too unbelievable."
"I'm sorry son, this is the truth! Please, pay attention! There, I met a metalsmith. His name was Alvard, or something. He offered me a place to stay. He even gave me training. Did you know I can forge a whole suit of armor now? Anyway, I continued my travels. I found myself in a city called Winterheld, or something similar. All the locals had problems, which I solved for them. After years of adventuring, I found a path to get here. Now, I come to your doorstep, asking for forgiveness for leaving."
"I'm not sure I can believe you, dad. It's been a long time."
"Please, son. I've been trying to return for twenty whole years! All I ask for is a place to stay."
"Okay, dad. Welcome home."
TL;DR I suck at writing while sleep-deprived. | 2016-07-20T06:00:41 | 2016-07-20T03:34:45 | 114 | 18 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "but the bread mold saved your grandfather Mort. And the maggots saved Earl's crushed food when everyone knew he was going to die. Sucking out the snake bite didn't save your boy Martha but any other healer would not have even tried. We lost what six of the last twenty babes born under her care? What other village can boast of so many live births. Not to mention her way with the flocks and hogs. Everyone has benefitted from her knowledge."
For a moment there I thought I had swayed them. Even the mayor his hands still holding the rope to bind her with looked both thoughtful and ashamed. Then the preacher spoke.
"Knowledge yes. Forbidden knowledge. Does the good book not say a woman shall remain silent excepting her husband's command. Even if we can attribute such luck to her, and you all mind it's God's glory that saves both flocks from blights and new born babes. No matter how much cleaning you do to barns or washing of hands. For does the book not say all good things come from the Lord. I say again she is a witch meant to lead people from the church. Do you all think I would not notice you send your children to her in secret instead of church for a proper education. As to saving lives who is she to save a man God has chosen to take. But I see you've moved these common folk with your speech so let me ask here and know before your neighbors and God who would go against God and stop the right and blessed hanging of a witch? Who would allow their children to be lead away from the teachings in the good book?"
I must confess I keep my eyes down and my mouth shut.
I wanted her to scream and fight when we arrived. Instead she spoke calmly laying out her case much as I did. The preacher tried to rouse the crowd but his angry words were not answered.
She begged at the end then laughed at us saying we were killing our children believing in a book written so long ago.
I stood in the crowd as she dropped. It wasn't a clean break and the mayor was weeping openly as he helped her to finish it. | "Dear, don't listen to her!"
I stood square and looked mom in the eye. "I will. She explained more of it and it all hangs together. She said we could *die*. I think we should at least… check it."
Mom took a deep breath and came around the table. "I had hoped she'd be able to hold her tongue around the kids. What a thing to obsess about! Lousy woman, not letting us handle things in our own time. Honey!"
Dad appeared momentarily. "Mmmm?"
Mom looked to me. "Would you repeat that for father?"
So I did, hesitantly.
Dad and Mom stared to each other for a moment. Then, Dad began the terrible secret of death: "Her concerns *were* real, and her solutions *were* good, once, long ago, well before we spread from our first planet…" | 2017-09-14T10:52:25 | 2017-09-14T07:28:47 | 82 | 16 |
[WP] Write a story where the narrator becomes increasingly fed up with the holes in the plot. | It’s a gift given to those worthy on the day of reckoning. A power so great and terrifying that it drives most insane. Those left in full control of their mental faculties often find themselves as hermits or monks, lost in introspective reversion. And for one Marabelle Sue, today was the day.
She looked in the mirror, realizing that her features were perfectly ordinary. Too ordinary. There wasn’t a freckle out of place. Her hair fell past her shoulders in just the right way to catch the light of the bright bathroom. But it was perfect—too perfect. She just woke up. She hadn’t showered yet, and in the hot Florida weather her golden curls should be a tangled amalgam of frills like Ms. Frizzle from the *Magic School Bus.*
Something horrible was happening.
And as she stared at herself, unwilling to paint the audience a vivid and unnecessary description, she saw it. A number over her forehead!
It started to float in midair, and she reached out to touch it. It smelled like rotting daffodils, a werid fruity aroma with a hint of spice and musk. It honestly would have been a decent aftershave—sort of a manly musk vibe.
“What the duck,” she muttered.
The number increased to “one” from “zero.”
“Duck?”
She looked horror stricken at the glass, waving her hand across the floating number that burned into her soul. She sniffled, and an in instant realized that she was the chosen one in a young adult novel.
Gasping for breath, eyes wide, she babbled on: “Hit! Bell! Muck! Featherplucker! Hunt!”
She slammed her fist on the counter in rage. “Why can’t I curse!”
*“This is a young adult novel, you can curse like—once or twice—maybe.”*
The number ticked forward. Two.
“Oh god, what’s happening to me? Who are you?”
*“I’m the voice inside your head. I’m the one who writes your dreams. I’m the one who watches when you sleep, and makes you wake every morning, and lets you laugh or cry. I’m the one who makes you human. I am the danger.”*
She splashed cool water on her face. It smarted and singed, drawing her into a new sense of awareness. And still the number—two. “What are the numbers?”
*“The number of times someone has broken the fourth wall,” the narrator said.*
Three.
“Oh god, what does it all mean?” she said.
*“You’re the chosen one. You have to save the world from an uprising dystopian future while falling in love for a reformed and misunderstood vagabond and also find your parents and also save the novel and this short story from being a total flop.”*
Four.
Marabelle walked towards the kitchen, grabbing a cool glass of milk. She wanted nothing more than to forget her newfound abilities, but something called her to action. “How can I save the story? It’s been like three hours since the prompt was originally posted!”
*“So?”*
“So—there’s more than four responses! Your story is going to get buried, no matter how hard you try! And this is just stupid. My name is literally ‘Mary Sue,’ this is dumber than the time my sister got caught by the police and I had to break her out of the government prison but, plot twist: my mother secretly ran the prison!”
*I click-clacked my keyboard furiously. This isn’t how I expected this story to go, not at all. It was supposed to be a nice satire then transition to an actual horror story because, honestly, that’s what those ‘number on the head’ stories are anyway. “So I should just give up?”*
She walked outside in her pajamas, squinting from the sunlight. Something had to be done, and there was only one way this would ever end. She needed a plot twist.
The mailman rolled up, carrying the Saturday morning newspaper. On his forehead—the infinity symbol.
“Hello Mary,” I said.
&#x200B;
***
I hate this story so much. r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | The sun bore down on Samford's exposed back as he moved through the field. The cornrows were but teenagers, reaching his belt buckle and swaying listlessly in the mild summer breeze. Samford's cleft chin pointed to the sky, allowing his tan face to absorb the warm embrace.
Brent, the proprietor to the plot that Samford walked on, and all the local fields, had ordered his son to investigate the strange sounds coming from plot sixteen. According to Brent, the field *groaned*, and it had been in agony for the last two nights.
He would have checked it himself if he hadn't abused his body during his youth. Sixteen hour days on this very farm, at the age of fourteen had stunted his growth and made it a battle to get out of bed in the morning. The wheelchair, or as Brent called it "The Rustbucket", was perhaps the most humiliating aspect of his life. He needed help to use the bathroom, but only Samford witnessed that, while everyone else could see that he was bound to an iron symbol of weakness.
Brent should have checked on plot sixteen himself. The sun seduced Samford; it made him both blind and drunk. He walked with open hands, splayed fingers and half-closed eyes. The noises came at night, and he wouldn't hear them. But, Samford could find the source if he just *looked*.
The holes - for there were many - planted themselves amongst the cover of corn. They gaped two-metres in diameter and burrowed to an unknown depth. From above, plot sixteen resembled a college student's bare notice board. And yet, Samford sauntered across the soil with his head angled to the sun.
Brent would be ashamed. And, he would die because of Samford's acts, his life of grit and pain would end in a swarm that would come three nights from now. The holes would grow and wriggle. The other fields would fall victim, and in turn, join hands to form a giant notice board riddled with pin-holes.
*PAY ATTENTION.*
Samford's head snapped left, then right. He cocked an ear.
*Had he heard me?*
The topless boy shook his head like a wet dog, and with it, sent away the summer afternoon daze. To Samford, he had heard Brent's voice. He rationalised it by thinking that his old man was spying on him. So, he lowered his eyes and moved along plot sixteen like a hungry bloodhound.
Samford moved in such an unfortunate route that he avoided all sight of the holes. It wasn't his fault. He needed one final nudge.
*LEFT.*
Samford jolted to a stop. He looked around. A gut instinct stirred, twisted and pulled until Samford saw it. Five meters to his left, he peeled back a row of corn and saw the darkness.
---
/r/WrittenThought | 2019-02-16T07:23:21 | 2019-02-16T04:41:51 | 183 | 37 |
[WP]: Suddenly, everyone with tattoos gains powers related to the tattoo. Tattoos of flames, you control fire. A tattoo of a gecko, you can climb on walls. All dudes with "tribal" tattoos have strangely bonded together. | It has been quite some time since the awakening, and tattoos were just the tip of the iceberg. Being inked was just the first thing that changed because tattoos are obvious, right there on the skin. People think that being marked openly in a way that had a price paid in pain is why the tattoos worked immediately. It was old magic. Magic that we forgot until something changed. No one is sure why it came back, but the first people to realize it had returned where those who never really stopped practicing. Wicca became the new faith overnight, but tattoos given after that only worked sometimes. On top of that people realized that the tattoos they had before the awakening only worked if they had a true personal meaning behind the ink.
I think people know why, but they regularly ask me why I always wear pants. I still only have the two tattoos I got before the awakening, but I never use them, and never want to be asked to do so. Both are ornate and cover each of my calves, size does seem to play into the strength of a tattoo's effects. My right leg is covered with a stylized image of Order and my left carries a swirling unspecified image of Chaos. Having both lets me understand them, and the implications of using what's there. I could do anything bearing these fundamental powers, but to do so would break that balance and likely turn me into something inhuman. So I do nothing. As others revel in the new abilities and opportunities of their magics I have to remain mundane. One day maybe I'll do something with them. Maybe one day it will be clear why I have power like this. I am afraid of that day. Afraid of what might spur me to reach into that well of power. In this world of awesome and terrible powers I have a feeling it will happen one day. I hope it doesn't.
I watch my wife and children play in the back yard of my happy home from a chair on the deck, and I hope... and worry. | Crime rates exploded when the ink activated in our bodies. Those who didn’t have tattoos before tried getting one so they could have a power of their own, but it didn’t work; so they took to belittling us, making us all out to be criminals. And what did I do? I did what any sane person would do, I hid. But even years after the ink activated the crime rates where still soaring, the people with tattoos where the only ones who could fight people with tattoos, but law enforcement was not willing to hire anyone with a tattoo. So I put on a mask and showed my tattoos and fought those criminals myself. And the stigma began to change. Because I was a hero, why couldn’t the people like me be heroes too? All it took was one person doing the right thing. | 2019-05-07T08:18:21 | 2019-05-07T07:52:07 | 260 | 43 |
[WP] Write a story that has spoiler tags all over the place. The story has two different meanings: One when reading without looking at the spoiler tags, and one when the spoilers tags are moused over.
Not sure if this is too confusing, so I'll post an example sentence.
The man loves [the severed head of](/s) his wife. | Delicious. I could scruff this in one go but I wanted to make it last. So I chew one solitary pea at a time and smile. [Spoiler] (#s "I was solitary not too long ago myself here in Attica.") My buds were 6 o'clock from me but they seemed busy with their own lunch. [Spoiler] (#s "Sometimes we get caught up watching our own asses, just in case.") I wanted to eat alone, though. [Spoiler] (#s "After 6 months in the hole, no one can blame me.") There's nothing quite like a heart-to-heart or mind-to-mind with yourself and a nice slice of greasy pizza. [Spoiler] (#s "When was the last time I had pepperoni? I can't even remember the texture.") Johnny, [Spoiler] (#s "he calls himself Gladiator,") is bobbing his head along to some tune [Spoiler] (#s "I'm surprised he still hasn't been moved to a psych ward,") leaving his tray untouched. If it'll go to waste anyway, where's the harm? plus I'll only take the peas. [Spoiler] (#s "That's the only thing you can trust around here, everything else is mush and who knows what they add in there!") The peas in this joint! Remind me of that song Hotel California. [Spoiler] (#s "You can check-out any time you like, But you can never leave!") [Spoiler] (#s "And why am I") here? Of all places! [Spoiler] (#s "Because of a wrong turn at life that kept me turning wrong.") [Spoiler] (#s "But") nobody cares about [Spoiler] (#s "the woes of a prisoner. Just herd us away from the luckier herd that got dealt a different hand. Rehabilitation?! None of that here and nobody else cares cept for") them peas.
| So, here was John, [Spoiler](#s "Trying to decide how to murder Jack") with his hot girlfriend, Cindy. Jack [Spoiler](#s "only at day") was a nice guy, but the couple [Spoiler](#s "was trying to save the world by killing a guy who would destroy the earth, but Jack made the whole world turn on them and think they're the bad guys, so right now the couple") and Jack are terrible enemies. [Spoiler](#s "Now since Jack brainwashed them, the world thinks that") the couple is the bad guy for trying to assassinate an innocent, caring person.
(Oh dang this is hard.) | 2015-06-07T20:38:16 | 2015-06-07T15:12:48 | 41 | 15 |
[WP] A genie comes out of the wallet you just found, and hands you a 20 sided die. "Thank you for finding my lost wallet. I grant you a roll on the random reward table." You roll a 1. | "Well, fret not my unlucky friend! Your roll only lasts 1 day! However this is a luck roll, and if you look at dnd you'll see the type of idea I'm going for. Absolute utter failure at everything you do. And often the opposite occurs."
"So what your saying is I fail at everythig? Purdon me, wait, even at talking?..."
"Yes, even talking... John? James?"
"Bryan"
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
As I slowly tumble into the office there is a whisper from the air conditioning, when I look it falls to the floor. I head into my office and have to carefully type out a script for my boss.
"Bryan, please come into Mr. Jefferson's office."
A heavy sigh awakens from the depths of my lungs. And off to the office I go.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
"Mr. Jefferson I have come here to request a *demotion*." | "Oh You're in quite the unlucky one today", The genie leaned back and coiled his fingers together. But don't fret there is still a prize for such a soul. The genie ruffles in the folds of his wallet and pulls a blank card. "I give you this punch card. With this you have 5 punches to bend the odds ever in your favor when you desire it. Believe in your mind that the chips will fall and they shall." "But this gift has a cost", leaning in with a menacing smirk, "after that last punch, Quite the unlucky cost. You look at the card and the first punch has been made and a small genie icon is above the punch. | 2021-07-30T11:25:52 | 2021-07-30T09:12:39 | 65 | 15 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile only to learn that no one else actually went into isolation. | The idea was simple. A complete world isolation, every country for themselves. Basically a "time off" for the world's politics. 50 years. Time enough for a new generation to take place, one that wouldn't be seduced by the desire to put themselves above others.
It was a grey day when the ceremony took place. America prepared itself as good as it could - closed most of the international giants, organized more ranches and farms to keep the people fed. The prices were completely reorganized, the economy being closed off from all the countries that used to make most of the stuff. Having a computer became a luxury, cars were a lot more expensive. But people lived on, hoping to see the better times.
___
I woke up early to see the new world. 50 years. 50 years I waited, working on a ranch all this time. But no more. The world will surely step into the new era of prosperity now. I've gotta call my cousin, see how things are in the UK.
I bought the computer all these years ago, preserved it as well as he could. Some parts have turned into dust now, but I managed to find some replacements on the scrapyard. The satellite internet access was a blessing too - there were no internet providers nowadays.
I pressed the ON button, and waited for it to load. My hands were shivering, I noticed. The kind excitement I used to feel like a kid, opening a present or making new friends. Today was the day.
The internet actually worked. I expected to have trouble connecting to anything. What if the world didn't have any internet? But it did. Good.
I reflexively opened up Chrome. Wow, it's been 60 years but the reflexes were still there. There was a notification.
*Your Chrome version is 65.02785. The new version available is 796.05364. Would you like to update?*
That couldn't be right. The version is dozens of years ahead of what there should be. Why does Chrome even work? The servers had to have been 50 years old, and probably demolished.
I checked the news. The top link read "Today America leaves it's 50 year isolation". America? Not the world? What does that mean?
This must be some mistake. The world leaders agreed to enforce isolation for every country. Even North Korea agreed. Why would it mention only America? And why was Chrome... Oh no...
Chrome was being updated for the last 50 years because it was being used. Google must've been working just fine in Europe. And that means that...
I've checked the news for the last month.
"Due to to the sudden increase in panda's behaviour, they are now in the Least Concern category". Huh. Well someone's happy.
"The latest cancer cure now has a 95% success rate". Wow. That's good news, I guess.
"Newest breakthrough at FusionTech predicts massive shift to fusion energy in the next 5 years". What? Fusion energy? The experimental technology was lost during WWIII!!!
That was too much. All this time. 50 years we were sitting here with our ranches and farms while they've been curing cancer and saving pandas! That wasn't fair!
I opened up the top article for today.
*Fifty years ago, after the devastation that was WWIII, America was isolated from everyone else. Today is a historical day, as what used to be the most powerful state in the world is reconnected with us. For more on this we asked councilman Jeremy Frank on what this means for the world:*
*"This is an important day. Before WWIII, the United States claimed to be the world's most advanced, morally that is, nation. Yet the events that led to WWIII were America's doing. All the terrorist attacks, the bickering with Russian Federation - America was the reason WWIII happened. The world leaders tricked them into self-isolating. And in my opinion, it worked. We are closer than ever to achieving something once considered fiction - a united Earth. The only question is, has America matured enough to join us, or not?"*
___
Feel free to criticize how you want, I know I'm not that good. And thanks for reading all this, it really came out longer than I expected. Cheers. | Lying underneath the broken husks of countries, some semblance of government had remained. And together, in their wisdom, the greats had decided that - to avoid any further conflicts, which could prove even more disastrous - each country should isolate itself from its neighbours. That way, even if some internal crisis occurred, the other nations wouldn't be effected: other nations wouldn't be pulled into some whirling shitstorm of civil war and guerrilla fighting.
50 years ago, every nation in the world - that is, every nation that was left - signed the Isolation Decree, stating that all outside borders; all outside communication, was to be ceased for 50 years. No international relations whatsoever. Punishment for breaking the treaty was nuclear bombardment: something no nation could afford now - for even the vast wilderness of Russia was some toxic wasteland now, the result of 17 years of warfare. America spearheaded the Decree - perhaps because of some degree of guilt; after all, it was President Trump who sparked the fire that lead the world here.
And so, 50 years of silence followed.
There were no wars: although, in the beginning, there were riots as people realised that America wasn't as independent as it proclaimed to be, as they realised that all these global mega-corps didn't function nearly so well when they couldnt reach their head-offices, or factories based in Bumfuck-Nowhere, working on slave labour. Products that were once considered everyday became luxuries, then faded into nothingness within the space of years. That isn't to say that life was bad - it was bearable, it was pleasant (for the most part): after the initiatives to revitalise internal industries, everything levelled out.
And so, 50 years of prosperity followed.
Then the 50 years ended, and America crawled out of her shell. And she found a world around her, bustling with activity, technology, freedom. For the world had grown tired of America: in her later years, she had grown gluttonous and lazy with power, swollen to the bursting point with ideologies that never came to be, with nationalism. So the world had conspired against her, and whilst America hid in her shell, the rest of the world linked their hands. She was 'The Greatest Nation'? How great she looked now, her people malnourished, her technology outdated, her armies disbanded. Next to the rest of the world - next to her former self - America was grey.
Grey and weak.
If there is one thing that is immutable, it is human nature. Such a frail nation, now. And truth be told, many were still bitter about losing America in the first place; after all, had it not belonged to the British once? Or the French? Or the Spanish? Such places as 'Britain', or 'France', or 'Spain' did not exist anymore though; no - instead, it was just 'Earth' and 'America'. But that didn't stop voices from complaining, and conspiring, and plotting. If enough voices speak, something is bound to happen.
And so, what was America came to not be. | 2016-10-18T16:17:24 | 2016-10-18T14:31:05 | 742 | 158 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | Captain's Log Number 62. 0600, Day 25 after commencement of Operation Swordfall.
This is a message from Knight Captain Zerraxi Rascirson of the recon relay ship "HMS Percifus" to all ships of the Empire. Anyone who picks up this message is to forward it immediately to the Ozirian Imperial high command and his Majesty.
Operation Swordfall has resulted in the worst possible outcome thought impossible by the simulations. Primitive occupants of planet E4R5 in galaxy T087 of the Xenolan cluster have advanced down a tech tree much different than our own. All of our musketmen were decimated within 20 minutes of contact by repeating muskets which each achieved a fire rate per minute equivalent to an entire brigade. The ER45ians seem to either have extreme dexterity or have found alternate means of creating a mini Qylantem reaction without killing the operator. No further information about E4R5's muskets were obtained as all expeditionary forces with the exception of this vessel were wiped out. We survived only because we were on a routine recon mission near one of E4R7's moon.
Knights in orbit did not fare much better. The mothership was disabled by what could only have been suicide ships carrying solar fragments. The escort fleet suffered a similar fate. The fervor of our enemy burnt with such intensity that prompted them to lay down their lives without hesitation. Not 1 out of the 1008 suicide ships that struck the fleet showed any signs of hesitation. Not 1 deviated from their intended target. One even struck a city on the planet's surface which we believe the E4R5ians called Moscow. It would seem that they had the leisure to engage in infighting despite external threats.
It is now apparent that we have awakened what should have been left dormant. The scourge that is the natives of E4R5 were born in warfare. Molded by warfare. They have never known peace since their genesis. We merely adopted warfare after discovering the ability to propel our ships using Qylantem drives to beyond the speed of light. Of course we would be no match against these madmen who dedicated all their advancements to war.
This will be the last message broadcasted from the HMS Percifus. As of 0200 this morning, the 5 remaining crew have voted to take the only possible action to contain this scourge. The nearest reinforcements will take more than 3 years to arrive in this sector. By then it would be too late. They have boarded the mothership and it's only a matter of time before they can replicate the Qylantem drives. Our vessel does not have the fuel to make the jump to the nearest Ozirian outpost nor the food supply to hold out any longer. As Knights we will lay down our lives for the Empire rather than die a coward's death. Using the enemy's own tactics, we will accelerate the Percifus using all remaining fuel to just below the speed of light in a collision course with E4R5. This 7000 ton recon vessel should be enough to cause a chain reaction that will destroy the surface of the planet rendering it uninhabitable.
However, this will not be the end of the scourge. Those scum that have boarded the mothership, HMMS Resyus, will most likely survive and seek revenge. For the glory of the Empire, destroy them and not let the sacrifice of the expeditionary force be in vain.
Avenge us.
Captain Zerraxi out.
First prompt ever. Hope you guys like it.
Edit- Minor text fixes. | Intel was coming in about an interesting population on the planet. It was called the USA, a place we would have to take out before they could react, as an admiral of their own pity squabbles once put it, 'you cannot invade mainland america, there would be a rifle behind every blade of grass' if this was the case, america needed to fall first and quickly.
This was the plan: one thousand of our finest warriors had been send to capture a place called the white house while another contingent was focused on the surrounding area. About twice as many were sent to a place called Nueva York or New York or a few other things, sources disagreed, contingents were also send to many other citys, LA, Huston, and Orlando were some of their names, but I was headed for a small town in the subregion they called 'Kansas' only a few hundred inhabitants, this would be our landing spot for the mother ship and needed to be fortified, thus a total of 3000 men were send here. This was almost one per 1000 inhabitants, quite an insult to our prowess. I was quite happy about this lax job, there was nothing to fear from a bout 500 primates with no interstellar capabilitys.
I landed on one of the buildings and started to look around. There was a gathering of about two dozen humans in a big building with a lot of their food. This must be a hub, controll the hub, controll the population.
I started shooting at the building, the first bullet hit its target, reload, repeat, after the second shot, they answered with counterfire.
"These guns are not muskets, repeat, these guns are not muskets." I told headquaters.
"They answer every of my shots with a hundred." I slid down the side of the building and made my escape through the fences. Good thing I had my invisibility tech, I may be outclassed in firepower, but not in wit.
I went over a street to flank these primates.
"There!" Someone shouted, and soon they followed me with their trucks. The invisibility gear didn't work.
"HQ order: retreat." Came in through my channel to the HQ and I flew off towards space. Sustaining an injury of my leg in the process. | 2017-08-08T06:41:23 | 2017-08-08T03:18:52 | 889 | 116 |
[WP] Humanity split into subspecies: Alters, who alter their genes, Augmented, who augment flesh with machines, and Ascended, who uploaded their consciousness. After centuries of coexistence, the tenuous peace between the ideologies is threatened.
I swear I corrected that before commit. Sorry.
The Altered, The Augmented, The Ascended. | I was born altered, a decision my parents made for me and has benefited me up until now. In the past decade there has been huge stratification between the classes. Altered was on top, since altering genetics had been refined to a point that any member of the ultra wealthy could make their kid into truly remarkable beings. If you wanted your kid to be a star athlete or a genius all you had to do was be able to afford it, which not many people could do. After a generation, the wealthy were untouchable, perfect beings who had the intelligence and strength that made sure they would stay on top for a long time. All indicators pointed to the fact that the Altered were going to remain on top, but then things changed.
Beings altered for the purpose of super intelligence was our downfall. They tinkered, innovated and invented things the population at large could hardly comprehend. This was how the Augmented came into being. As time proceeded, the technology grew more advanced at an exponential rate and as the technology advanced, it also became cheaper and more accessible for the general population. Any person who wished to augment their abilities with technology could, as long as they weren’t dirt poor. Everybody above the poverty line suddenly became more technology than human. With exoskeletons that tripled their strength and jet packs that enabled them to maneuver in ways previously thought impossible, the augmented grew more valuable to the Altered. Called upon to fight wars and labor in mines and factories, the augmented grew restless and became aware of their strength. There were several uprisings, though none we successful since the Altered always had a significant portion of the Augmented population willing to defend the current order. But time moved on and so did the advancement of technology.
The answer of what to do with the portion of the population below the poverty line soon came in the form of data storage with the ability to store human consciousness. Within ten years, anybody who wasn’t Altered or Augmented became part of the Ascended. The Great Ascension had all the indicators of success, a passive and happy population living in a computer generated dream world. Then something started to go wrong. What the Altered programmers failed to understand was that they effectively just created artificial intelligence. This new AI form didn’t seem to like its status as third-class citizens, they wanted more.
The Ascended were quiet at first, making their moves in silence so that once they attacked, they would be assured victory. Then it happened. One day the technology of the Augmented failed. Their exoskeletons wouldn’t move, their rockets wouldn’t launch and their collective power was all but completely eliminated. This is what started the war, if you could call it that. Humans dropping bombs on data centers while the ascended struck back with a previously unknown ferocity.
The ascended were an enemy this world wasn’t prepared for. We could perform tactical strikes against their data storage, but as soon as they caught wind of it they would upload themselves somewhere else. They would strike back with ballistic missiles armed with Nuclear warheads decimating whole cities. All seemed lost, until I found their weakness.
Edit: My first gold, thank you!
Edit 2: Going to bed for the night, I’ll write part three tomorrow! | *A man in a suit appears on the TV screen. He looks for all appearances, human. His face is pale and dark circles hang under his eyes. His eyes have lines of red running through the whites. Only a deep look into the irises of the man reveal his true nature. They are not natural, but lens. This “man” is the representative of the Augmented Hive Mind. A collective consciousness who are more human only in appearance. He opens his mouth to speak, barely concealed anger evident in each word.*
**“**
We were attacked today.
The Augmented Hive Mind planet was attacked by a thermonuclear weapon detonated in space which unleashed a massive electromagnetic pulse that washed over out home. 97.782 percent of our vessels were destroyed. The damage to infrastructure is, to say the least, immense.
We are well aware of what others think of us. That we have sacrificed our individuality. That killing one of our units is like crushing a trash can, for we are after all, just one consciousness. That we are not even alive, that we are soulless automations.
We have ignored these jibes as falsities, as ignorance. But we never thought it would come to this, this…baseless attack. We are one yes, but we all experienced terror as we looked up to the sky of our home, we experienced pain as every function in out body was shut down. It is like getting your arms and legs cut off, and saying “you’re still alive, right?”
We’re alive. We’re angry.
Weakened as we are, we are not crippled. We will find who did this, the Altered of the Ascended. And we will act. We will give you a real reason to fear us, to despise us, as you have done for hundreds of years.
We will not go quietly into the good night.
We will fight.
**”**
*The screens go blank, and this declaration of war is met by deafening silence on both planets.*
| 2018-07-01T10:01:08 | 2018-07-01T08:41:45 | 340 | 32 |
[WP] "I'm retired. RETIRED. I saved the world once. I'm not doing it again. I'll kill the next messenger you send." | There was a hesitant knock at the door. Snatching up my sword, I snarled. I'd told them I'd kill the next messenger, and killing people always put me in a bad mood. Throwing the door open, I brought the sword around in a forceful swing.
"Ah—" It was a sharp high-pitched scream, that cut off in the middle. Roaring, I changed the trajectory of the swing, at the last minute. My sword thudded into the door frame, slicing through the wood. Hands shaking, I let it go, staring down at the girl in front of me. She couldn't have been more than ten years old.
"What the he—" I stopped myself, I wasn't supposed to swear in front of children. A stupid side effect of being a hero. The girl frowned up at me, obviously aware of what I'd been going to say.
"I have a message—"
"They sent a kid. A kid!" Interrupting her, I wrenched the sword out of the doorframe. "They sent a blasted kid. I said I'd kill the next messenger they sent, and they sent a child!" Walking back inside the house, I sensed her following me. Heightened awareness didn't go away when you retired.
"That's why." She said, her voice still a little shaky. Heck, I was still shaking. Those words stopped me in my tracks as they sank into my brain.
"That's why?" I repeated, turning to look at her. "What *exactly* do you mean?"
Closing the door behind her, she moved to the table in the center of the room. She perched on the edge of the chair, swinging her feet through the air. She was so tiny, that she couldn't reach the floor. Sudden rage swirled through me, but all I could do at the moment was tighten my hands on the sword hilt.
"Well, they figured you probably wouldn't kill a child. So, they sent me."
"They figured. *Probably*. And what if I had killed you?" I asked. She shrugged.
"I'm not worth much. Just an orphan. More of a burden on the kingdom's resources. So it wouldn't be a great loss."
My heart broke. The anger seeped into the cracks, turning from a bright flare to deep-rooted cold ice. I clenched my teeth, making sure the words I wanted to say were appropriate for a child's ears before I opened my mouth.
"I saved their world once before. Do you know what I did? How many people I killed so that their world could go on? So that they could continue to treat orphans like second-hand citizens. Oh, sure they don't treat me like that anymore... except here they are doing it. Manipulating me, sending children to do their dirty work."
She raised placating hands, shaking her head.
"It's all right, I don't mind. At least I would have been doing something useful for once—"
"No. NO! That is it!" I jammed my sword back into its sheath, picking up my adventuring bag. I kept it packed out of nostalgia, but now it would be useful again. "Come on."
Gesturing to the girl, I strode out of the house and down the garden path. She scampered after me, having to take three steps for every one of mine.
"You're going to slay the monster?" She asked, breathlessly. Feeling guilty, I slowed, letting her catch up.
"Yes," I said tersely, turning left down the road.
"But you're going the wrong way. That leads to the city."
I looked down at her, knowing my smile would be anything but comforting.
"Like I said. I'm going to slay the monster." | "But the Grand Imposer!"
"Imposer-Shmozer!" I waved my hand at the poor boy, walking back towards my garden. "Send The Silver Sword Knight!"
"Sliced by The Golden Sword Samuri."
"Miss Morning-Star!"
"Crushed by Night Moon."
"Erm... The Cannibal Kid?"
"Ate by--"
"Stop right there. I get it."
He perked up, "So you're coming to save the world!?"
"Hell No!" I spat out some chewing root. "I'm too damn old!"
"But you're the most powerful wizard to ever live!"
"Come here boy, listen to this." He came close as I lifted one leg off the ground. I held it between my hands and lightly rocked my foot back and forth to produce a *click-click* sound. "Hear that shit?"
"Just noisy knees."
"It's called arthritis Richard!"
He threw up his hands with a dramatic face, "Oh okay, so the greatest wizard in the world also has arthritis, big whoop."
"Not a big whoop," I bent down to do a squat but was stopped by a humungous ***CRACK*** sound from my back. "But a big pain in the ass!"
I kept walking but Richard wouldn't give, following me with a focused face. "Can you at least cast a curse on him or something."
"Abra-kadabra. Great, now fuck off."
"You've done that last time. I'm not falling for it again."
I chuckled, "*Can't believe you fell for the ole abr--*"
"Summons?" He said, interrupting me. "Maybe summon something?"
"Oh I'll summon something for you," I lifted my leg and ripped the largest fart of my adult life. "How about that monster?"
"You're reprehensible!" Richard said while backing up and covering his nose. "I can't believe you were the hero of old times!"
"Never meet your heroes bub, now would you politely hit the road?" He hesitated slightly, but finally shook his head and walked away with a muggy attitude.
As soon as he was out of site I went out to my old shed and opened the door. "Alright you fucking riot, it's good to come on out."
The Grand Imposer followed out of the door, head to toe in his *Super Intimating Black armor* or whatever the hell they called it. "Gee uncle," He said while rubbing his neck. "This is an awfully weird prank."
We walked back to the house to eat dinner. "Those bastards are going to stop paying the hero tax if they don't have something to be scared of, and arthritis care isn't cheap!"
He shook his head, "You're weird grandpa."
I looked him up and down, "Says the dweeb wearing black armor... Kids these days..." | 2022-08-25T16:44:06 | 2022-08-25T15:32:46 | 162 | 54 |
[WP] There is a girl in school that you lately have a huge crush for. The way she dresses, talks and acts seems to be like your ideal type. One day you steal and hack her phone hoping to find some info you can use to win her over. The phone is full of pictures, videos and recordings of you. | #Ashley
EDIT: [I've decided to get back into writing/voice acting](https://youtu.be/h_kDbFn-X10?t=93) Feedback is appreciated!
***
Ashley stands up, hand resting on a shoulder a little too long as I gaze up into her piecing green eyes. A hint of red in her lips? A flush in her cheeks? Probably just my imagination.
"You haven't got a chance" laughs my friend, Eddie. For a big lad, he's awfully nimble; a brutish figure appears from nowhere and sits beside me in the spot Ashley had just vacated.
"I'm telling you man, she's into me!" I exclaim, still watching her swaying form as she seemingly floats away to her usual group of friends. "She always comes and sits next to me. We talk and talk and we laugh, I'm not making tit up!"
"Pfft, she's just being nice. Look at her! There are people like that and there are people like us" says Eddie with a sigh. I do look. The way her hair catches the light, the way her delicate giggle carries like a feather on the wind as she converses so easily with all the who love-drunk sycophants pining over her.
My sigh matches his. He's not even being mean, it's true. "Probably just my imagination" I agree. He pats my shoulder solemnly.
"But she always sits next to me in class!" I retort, hopefully.
"You've never failed a test, it's the same reason I sit on the other side" jokes Eddie.
"And she asked if I was going to her house party this Saturday"
"She probably just needs a head count" explains my ever-supportive friend.
"Look! Look! She's waving!" I say, beginning to lift my arm in response. A boy from behind us hops over our bench, waving back as he jogs up to greet her. I quickly hide my action, pretending I had an itchy nose, but turn to see Eddie's tight-lipped face holding back a laugh.
I punch his arm and sigh again. The way she pulls her hair over her ear, the way she holds those books to her chest, even the smell of her that still lingers from our earlier hug. Perfect. "Probably just my imagination" I say again, dejected.
"Ah, don't feel bad, buddy. I hear that girl from class B has a crush on—shit!" yells Eddie, cutting himself off.
"What?" I say, jumping in panic in he's spilled something or we're being attacked by snakes.
"Her phone! She must have dropped it when she was sitting" he says, picking up a red, bedazzled phone case and the newest brand-name device held within. Even her phone is perfect...
"I'll go return it" I say, reaching out a hand that Eddie quickly slaps away.
"Fuck that! Ah sweet, no lock. And look at this, a text conversation with you acting all lovey-dovey like a puppy dog" he laughs. I reach for the phone but he holds it at arm’s length, hand to me like it's a game of American football.
"Quit being a creep, and get your long arms out of my face" I say with a half-smile.
"And look at this, the camera reel!"
"Okay, that's going too far. She's going to get mad at us" I say more seriously.
"Shit, there's a lot of shots of you in here" he says, coyly.
"...really?" I ask, suddenly conceding the fight and looking over with more curiosity as he flicks through half a dozen selfies of us together. "I told you she liked me!" I call out in victory. Then he keeps scrolling. A bunch more pictures with guys, girls, family and friends. He looks at me with mock sympathy and I punch his arm. "I know, I know, just my imagination"
"Hold on" he says, scrolling further, deeper into to annals of her hard drive, through corridors of misleading directory names. "This folder is just filled with pictures of you. You in class, you from behind walking home, you waiting at the bus. Shit, this one is following you off the bus. Does Ashley live near you?" he asks, concerned.
"Um, no. Not at all. That's weird" I answer, confused.
"Shit, man. This one is through your window and... fuck, is that you sleeping? Where's that even from?!"
"It... it looks like it's from inside my closet. How did she get these? Did she take these? What the fuck?" I say, confusion morphing into utter bewilderment.
Suddenly, Ashley's face is in front of mine. Mere inches away. A wide, white toothed grin causes me to start back.
"Hello boys, I didn't leave my phone here, did I?" she asks, sweetly.
"Uh, yeah. Must have dropped it" I chuckle nervously. I snatch the device from a stunned Eddie and hand it to her. Ashley's soft hand lingers on mine as she takes it. She gives me a wink and walks off once more.
We sit there in silence. Hearts racing. Breath coming heavy. I manage to settle my shaking hands as I continue to gaze at her.
"I fucking told you she was into me" I whisper sideways at Eddie.
"Maybe it's an art project or something" he whispers back.
"Yeah, probably just my imagination."
/r/ArmanWritesStuff | BECKY AURORA.
If only she knew this late blooming, zit infested- gamer stud is infatuated with her to the point that I have imaginary conversations to myself to what I would say to her.
"SOooo....Bex and effects. ALL I WANNA DO IS IN A ZOOM-ZOOM ZOOM and a BOOM BOOM!" While I shake my rump to Teddy Riely's voice in my head.
Whenever class let's out, I purposely find an excuse to track her to what I call, 'intercepting points,' for an opportunity to see her, between the 6 bells, also sharing 3 classes. P.E., Drivers Ed and Biology. I almost died last week when I was forced to play flag football and Mr. Banana(or actual name, Mr. McCana) elected me to play shirtless during shirts VS skins.
It wouldn't be such a problem if my armpit hair was visible, but it is not, mostly because my armpit hair doesn't exist! Now Becky KNOWS! I HAVEN'T EVEN FINISHED PUBERTY!
Before bed, since 14, I have prayed religiously for even a single follicle to sprout so I could parade it as a badge of honor! "I'm a member of manhood now! The brotherhood of men!" I would think to myself. Instead, the girl I would die for, doesn't even know I'm alive...
During Drivers Ed today, my dreams came true! Becky, Alexandra, the foreign exchange student and I, a fluent speaker of English, were paired together. All I had to do was TALK! I mean....Alexandra is likely to stay silent as usually timid and I have practiced countless hours for this opportunity..even repeatedly watching The Seceret, to attract this moment to happen....AND IT'S ACTUALLY HAPPENING!
Becky stands, holding her Drivers Ed book with her right hand across her chest, twirling her hair with her left and swaying back and fourth as if she is anticipating the silence to break. My mind processes the dozens of ice breakers I have practiced a million times but can not cure this indecisive moment to heal my aching heart! And then it happens....she looks directly at me and says my name! She knows my fucking name!
The impatient girl, waiting for a conversation to strike, says, "Paul, do you know anything about Galaxy phones? I'm locked out and can't get in mine."
"Ahh..yeah, I DO! We can do a password reset, no problem!" I say naturally without passing out.
While resetting her password I pretend to look away but TOTALLY see it while she enters the 6 digits.
07-04-05. HEY...that's my birthday?!
After school. My mind went into overdrive. Obsessing over if serendipity is to blame or does she REALLY KNOW MY NAME AND HAVE MY BIRTHDAY AS A PASSWORD!?
Next morning, I realize that I never slept. I go to school knowing every class Becky's in and find that the best opportunity to swipe her phone is during P.E. as I know it'll be in her locker. She is also the only girl with converse on, so her locker will be easiest to find. All I have to do is grow the balls to go in there!
My shot to go in the locker room falls in place like a Lego peice as two jocks get into a fight and everyone rushed over to watch.
Without hesitation, I execute the mission without issue, conquering all objectives.
1st-Breach Girls locker room door
2nd-Locate locker with red Chuck All-Stars
3rd-Steal phone and get the HELL OUT OF THERE!
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.
As the fight gets broken up, it's time to go change. Instead of leaving for the next 'interception,' I stay in the locker room to see if the 'Universe' is telling me something?
As the phone is unlocked, I go to photos and find my pictures saturated through the screen! I even found videos...immediately recognizing shirt VS skins day! My joy and heart beat find a rhythm together!
"SOooo, Paul and effects...can I have my phone back?" Becky's voice projects from the end of the lockers.... | 2021-09-23T00:54:05 | 2021-09-22T19:07:00 | 74 | 20 |
[WP] Necromancy is punishable by death, and you, a proud necromancer, have been caught and are about to be executed. Time to see if you can raise your own corpse. | Jack chuckled to himself as he stood atop the platform with the executioner casually approaching. He'd be condemned to death for the crime of being a Necromancer and ironically, that very crime would allow him to survive this ordeal, hopefully with no side effects. Or at least, Jack *thought* it'd allow him to survive.
He wasn't actually sure it'd work, it was all conjecture at this point but what better time to test it out then when his life literally depended on it. As the executioner marched up the steps, clad in black with that adorable little hood atop his head. Jack gathered his power into himself, every single inch of his body hummed with pure black energy, it was so dense that his body started to crackle with black lightning.
The gathered crowd gasped and collectively took a step back. Some boos were heard but most stayed perfectly silent as they watched the black magic pouring off the man with an eerie smile on his face, standing atop the executioner's platform.
The executioner seeing this lightning pulsing over his skin grew understandingly nervous, with quick hurried movements unbecoming of his station and the image that he'd spent years creating he rushed over to Jack, slipped the noose over his neck and positively leapt backwards to the lever as lightning struck out at him. Without an ounce of hesitation, he slapped his hand on the lever, releasing the doors and sending Jack to his hellish grave. Or so he thought.
The crowd murmured to themselves throughout this strange event, but once the doors opened with a solid thunk and Jack's smiling face disappear beneath the platform with an earth-shattering crack, they all cheered and the executioner sighed in relief.
Jack's laughter echoed throughout the square, sending shivers down everyone's spines and blanketing the world in deafening silence. Every living creature within the city stopped what they were doing and stared in the direction of the platform with fear clear in their eyes. With a simple kick, Jack burst out of the box beneath the platform. Splinters of wood flew into the crowd and impaled many of the bystanders. With a maniacal grin, Jack flew into the crowd and clutched two of them by the throat, crushing their windpipes instantly. Before the ground could embrace their bodies, black lightning flew from his body, impacting the corpses and bringing them back to life.
With the two zombies at his side, he began to systematically decimate the crowd, not forgetting about the executioner who had huddled in fear atop the platform. Each and every time a corpse dropped to the ground, lightning flew off him and impacted the body, bringing it back and adding them to the horde that was ravaging the living. All the while the square echoed with the screams of the living, the moans of the damned and the oh so joyous laughter of Jack himself.
Within the hour the man known as Jack stood atop the platform for the second time that day. This time the crowd before him was made up of corpses that didn't look up at him in hatred or fear, rather they stared indifferently in every direction awaiting orders. The executioner that had snapped Jack's neck now stood beside him, his adorable hood still atop his head but beneath the hood was no longer the face of a man but the bared teeth snarl of a starving creature.
Jack stepped to the edge of the platform and sat himself down. He'd never removed the noose that had snapped his neck and it dangled down below beside his swinging feet. He smiled at his horde and threw his hands wide. With nary, a word said his horde spread out amongst the city and began butchering every living creature they could get their hands on. Within a few minutes, his horde began to drag fresh corpses back to him and as he laid his eyes upon the very man who'd condemned him to death for his crimes he began to laugh again.
Jack's laughter echoed throughout the city as the screams and moans of its denizens filled the air. None shall survive this night, for Jack had done the impossible. The man known as Jack had become something else. He was no longer a man, but something far greater. He didn't know what he was, he just knew that with this army at his back, nothing could stop him.
---
https://old.reddit.com/r/Ceruberus/ Visit for more written by me. | # Unfinished Quests
Brenner’s Cross, an unassuming town, on an unimportant crossroads. The rising sun had barely tickled the first-floor windows. On the dusty streets, a few particularly dedicated traders began to hawk their wares, and the usual queue snaked its way from the front of the Adventurer’s guild.
In the town square, an execution reached its climax.
“… and for the heretical crime of necromancy, Reginald Osirin shall be hanged until death.” The hooded executioner turned to Osirin, staring with disinterest at the gaunt figure in the noose. “Do you have any last words?”
Murky green eyes and a twisted sneer stared back at him.
“You’re going to regret this,” the necromancer said.
“Not,” he pulled a lever, and at the court’s request, Reginald Osirin began to choke his last, “as much as you.”
Below the gallows, the town’s crueler fanatics watched him kick and slowly turn with rapturous glee. As his eyes bulged and foam rose to his lips, only the satisfaction of righteousness filled their empty heads. And in a far corner, the arresting paladin nudged the figure at his side.
“I’m concerned,” he said, “necromancers should be burnt.”
His fellow quirked a brow and shrugged. “Ya know how it is, big guy. Small towns. Can’t get the staff. Stop worrying, it won’t come to anything.”
---
On the eighth day after the necromancer’s burial; a call for help, at last, reached the next town.
In the skies above Brenner’s Cross, a black sun glared down from a scarlet sky. Its baleful rays caressed the shattered remains of buildings and the ragged pieces of those who had not fled. From the cheapest graveyard to the southern passage, a trail of devastation had torn the settlement in two.
Chipped remains of sharpened teeth peppered the landscape as though fired from a volley gun. Great jaw-like ribs, stained brown with scraps of gore, littered the streets like bear traps. What corpses still remained had been torn to the point of disintegration. Bite marks and the rending of claws decorated them with wild abandon.
Clear evidence of an undead horde.
“Heinegger’s scraggly beard! I *told* you. I sodding *told* you!”
Ignoring the paladin’s prolonged breakdown, Jennie Swiftacre held an ornate compass in an outstretched hand, whispering into it. To a flash of pale blue light and the slightest tang of smoked herring, the needle at last spun.
“That way!” she cried, already at a sprint, “I’ve found survivors!”
His tirade of invective still in flow, not pausing for breath; Paladin Haims, of the Sacred Order of the Reforged Mace, hurried after her.
---
If you've enjoyed this and would like to read more, why not [visit my sub?](https://www.reddit.com/r/The_Crossroads)
Any and all feedback welcomed. | 2020-07-25T23:49:20 | 2020-07-25T23:22:49 | 147 | 26 |
[WP] God created thousands of worlds in thousands of galaxies. A major crisis in another galaxy has taken his entire focus, and for the first time in 750 years, he just glanced in our direction.
This prompt has two possibilities. What has he been dealing with for the last 750 years elsewhere, or what his reaction is when he looks back at us.
Edit: didn't realize I missed the 1. It was supposed to be 1750 years ago, so basically everything since 250 A.D. Was done without him paying any attention.
Edit 2: but if anyone has anything over the last 750 years, I'd be happy to read it.
Edit 3: I love what you are all doing. Having a hard time finding the time to read all of the posts, but I'll get there eventually. Thanks for all of the responses!
Edit 3.1: it's really interesting to see everyone's response and see how it reflects what I imagine is their view of how we are doing as a global society. Keep them coming.
Edit 4: I never imagined this would blow up like this. Thank you so much for all of your responses. This has been amazing to read. I understand what people mean when they say RIP INBOX. | I leaned back in my office chair and stretched my arms high over my head. With a sigh of relief, I finally turned away from Earth-2294. In 250 A.D., the humans living there had managed to rediscover the Garden of Eden, and they had waged a siege on an epic proportion that had lasted almost two thousand years. It had taken every bit of my attention to keep them out, but when I make a rule, I keep that rule. Now, after all those years, I could finally check up on some of my other creations.
I swiveled in my office chair and faced Earth-1468. The first thing I noticed was the number of countries. On Earth-2294, there was no real nationality, just humans vs. angels. Earth-1468 had hundreds of countries. I sighed again, it was obvious I was going to have a lot of reading to catch up on before I could start guiding these humans.
I cracked open the first historical tome, starting from the moment the "Garden Crisis" started on Earth-2294. Suddenly, movement just outside of the atmosphere caught my eye. I looked at it closely, it was some sort of space station. But that was impossible, humans weren't supposed to go to space!! It's impossibly cold, and there's no oxygen. It's why I use the cold emptiness of space to separate my planets, humans could never survive outside the atmosphere. Yet here they were, just floating around like it was normal. I sat back in my chair stunned. And I smiled. After all those years of war, I'd forgotten how much I liked humans. It was time to reward these enterprising little people. I zoomed out so I could see the entire milky way. And there it was, the tiny little telescope trying to take pictures of the bigger universe. I subtly pointed it to a seemingly empty space of the cosmos. And the telescope took pictures of a far distant planet, where all humans had been wiped out. And where they would find a peaceful garden at the center of a massive battle. | "Yo lil j", God exclaimed when he glanced at the small planet of earth. "What can you tell me about this "earth"?" Jesus looked up from his candy crush game to reclaim his memories of his time there. "Aw pops, those are some weirdos man. I told I'm I was your son and they fuckin put me on a cross and crucified my ass."
God was just taking into account what Jesus said,
"What the actual fuck man"
"Yeah I know" Jesus replied, " funny thing is now they worship me and said it was the "plan" and such"
"What a crazy planet" God says to himself as we swipes left
I suck at writing just had this idea | 2015-12-27T10:49:08 | 2015-12-27T08:16:37 | 791 | 578 |
[WP]"Dad, I am cold" "Son, please, it's been 7 years already, why do you keep coming back?" | "Dad, I am cold."
"Son, please, it's been 7 years already, why do you keep coming back?"
"Say it."
"I don't want to say it."
"You have to say it. You murdered me. You murdered Mom. Look at me. Look at my neck. Look what you did to me."
"I don't have to look at anything. You're an apparition. Leave me to my morning coffee in peace."
"There is no peace for us, Dad. I've known no peace for... how long did you say? Seven years?"
"To the day now."
"Your eyes are bloodshot."
"You won't leave me alone. Even in death you won't leave me alone."
"You know what you need to say."
"Ugh, this coffee cup is too fucking cumbersome for these old hands. I should really get a more manageable one."
"You can't ignore me forever, Dad."
"I'd kill you again if I could."
"I'm just a boy."
"If only your spirit was as easy to sever as your head..."
"You're a monster, Dad."
"I'll find a way."
"You just need to say it."
"I'm not saying it."
"Then I'll haunt you forever. I have all the time in the world."
Dad takes a swig of his coffee, full of sugar and cream. He pants as he slams the mug on the table, his hand trembling, his body shaking, his bloodshot eyes peering forward. This is a man who has not deserved a single restful night of sleep for the past seven years, and thusly who has not had one. He earned his haunted life.
Dad is a man who has forgotten how to blink. His eyes bulge, as if they would cry if only they knew what crying was. He closes his eyelids, crust chipping down from them as he grits his teeth and tightens his hand clenching the coffee mug handle on the table. He inhales, holds his breath, and lets out an unsteady breath as he braces himself to say the words he needs to say.
"Hi Cold... I'm Dad." | “So...cold.”
“Son. It’s been six—wait. No. *Seven* years. Why do you keep coming back?”
“P...pa-pa. I’m so...so cold. I. I can’t get warm, pa-pa. So very—hey-hey! Don’t close that door. It’s snowing out here.”
“Look. You’re twenty-five, I don’t mind you visiting — lord knows I love seeing you, kid — but I can’t have you hanging out and practically moving back in every winter. Eating my food. Cranking my thermostat.”
“But, pa-pa!”
“Oh, leave my baby alone, Richard. Come in, come in, Charlie-bear! I’ll make you some soup. Poor baby, freezing out there, mean old Dad.”
“Thanks, Ma!”
“...I’m gonna send that kid a bill this time...ah, who am I kidding. Dearest, what sorta soup is it?” | 2022-12-13T06:39:56 | 2022-12-13T03:25:40 | 221 | 110 |
[WP] A world where eating a person lowers your age by 20 years. The poor are offered up to the rich who have been around for hundreds of years. | My brother and I sat at mother's bedside, teary-eyed and with broken hearts. She didn't have cancer, or some kind of heart defect- "her body is just old" they told us. She's only 45, but there's nothing to fix, and nothing to cure; she aged quickly, for some reason. Just the imminence of death intruding on our lives.
We each squeezed one of her hands, sobbing at the softness of her smile. Even as life fled from her, she found it within her to smile at us, to reassure us with love.
"How can you smile, mom?" I asked her, curious to know. "Aren't you scared? Don't you hurt?"
"As long as I'm looking at you boys, the loves of my life, I can do nothing but smile," she whispered to us. Not in my 20 years on this Earth had I felt such sorrow, or pain. My brother was broken, unconsolably trembling. He was only eight, after all- watching your mother die at that age is just too much.
*It's just too much.*
"Robert, leave the room for a bit, okay?" I asked my brother, smiling. "Go on, I need to tell mom something."
He rubbed at his eyes and shuffled out the door. I closed it behind him and returned to my mother's side.
"He can't live without you. I've had my shot, and I've messed up a lot. I dropped out of school, and I've hurt the whole family with my bullshit. Robert needs a mother like you, a kind and understanding woman to take care of him. I can't do it, and I don't deserve the chance. But I can do this, mom. Let me do this."
I pulled out a knife, and braced myself for death. A smile crept across my face, still coated in my tears.
*You think I wouldn't be smiling at the thought of my own death.*
"Don't fight, mom. Let me live through you. Take the years from me, and with them, let me feel what it's like to help people and make a change for the better."
--------------------------------------
*sorry if this wasn't what you were looking for, the prompt just inspired me to write this! if you enjoyed it and are looking for any more feels trips, check out /r/resonatingfury* | It was discovered on 7th of April, 1997, that eating people lowered your age for 20 years.
At first, people were horrified - how the bloody heck had they *discovered* this!?
Then, they realised - what counted as a 'Person'? What if they declared ants people? This, of course, proved fruitless, only things with a highly developed brain counted, and the first dolphin eating was reported 1 month later. The scientists of all countries, horrified, decided to have an 'immortality race' - the first to develop a way for synthetic 'people' to be created, just a brain, would win whatever they wanted.
Meanwhile, in poorer countries, the poor were dissapearing at an alarming rate, and the rich seemed to look quite younger. This was ended by armies of multiple countries simply killing those who ate people, ending their follies.
Finally, it was announced. A blob with a highly developed brain had been created, but not conscious. The world rejoiced.
But the blobs were conscious and self-aware too - and they were distressed - but with no method of combating it, or communicating, humanity simply didn't know. The blobs planned.
And thus became sheep - destroyers of worlds. | 2016-02-21T21:34:12 | 2016-02-21T21:06:05 | 69 | 48 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | **ANOTHER TYPICAL DAY IN CENTRAL CITY - THE CITIZENS GO ABOUT THEIR DAILY BUSINESS, THE BIRDS SING - AND A BANK IS ROBBED!**
BOOM!
*"Right, let's get out of there, Technofiend!"*
"I OBEY, HELLVIXEN."
*"You don't always have to talk like that, Tech."*
"Soz."
"MU-HA-HA-HA! Our evil plan reaches fruition! Soon, we will have the funds to build an army of evil clones - and then, rule the world!"
*"Dr. Deviant, could you not monologue until you've got the car going?"*
"Alright, alright..."
**BUT EVEN AS THE VILLAINS TRY TO ESCAPE JUSTICE, A HERO COMES FROM THE SKY!!!**
"Halt, Evildoers!"
"Oh shit, it's Captain Cosmos."
*"What the hell is he doing out at his age?"*
"He must have got out of his daughter's house again..."
"I thought she got locks put in?"
*"He can still break rocks with his fists, you know."*
"Oh."
"I'm going to talk to him..."
*"Dr. Deviant - are you sure?"*
"I can't believe she let him keep that police scanner!"
"Well, it keeps him occupied, doesn't it?"
*"Not like this."*
**SLOWLY, THE EVIL DOCTOR DEVIANT EMERGES FROM HIS GETAWAY...**
"Hi, Mike?"
"Captain Cosmos To You!"
"Yeah, OK, Captain Cosmos. Look, Cassie is probably wondering where you are, and..."
"How Do You Know The Name Of My Daughter?"
"You told me, remember? The last time you arrested me."
"Did I?"
"Yeah. Look, let's drive you back or something?"
"NO! Evildoers Must Be Brought To Justice!"
"Oh God..."
**MEANWHILE, IN THE CAR, AN EVIL SCHEME IS HATCHED...**
*"I have absolutely no idea what we're going to do here."*
"Shall I ring social services?"
*"It's heading in that direction."*
**BUT CAPTAIN COSMOS HAS NO TIME FOR SUCH PLOTS. IT IS TIME FOR ACTION!**
"Enough! Surrender, Or Feel My Wrath!"
"Careful Mike, you don't wanna..."
**KAPOW! **
"Oh shit! Your hip!"
**POW!**
"Arrgh!"
*"Oh no, has he fallen over?"*
"Yeah, can you come over? I'm going to need your help.
"I'll ring the ambulance."
"Thanks, Tech."
"You Fiends! I Will Not Allow This Villainy!"
“Calm down, Mike. Let Hellvixen check your hip out.”
*“Does that hurt?”*
“AIIIIEEEEEE!”
*“I’ll take that as a yes.”*
"The ambulance is coming."
"Right, I'll stay here with him until we get to the hospital."
*"They'll bust you when you get there..."*
"I know. Can you break me out of the City Jail again?"
*"You'll have to wait until the weekend, I'm afraid."*
"Meh. What can you do?"
"You Will Be Brought To Justice, Dr. Deviant!"
"Just try to stay calm, Mike. Ambulance should be here."
*"Shall we leg it, then?"*
"May as well, Hellvixen."
"I'm guessing we're paying for his treatment?"
*"Yeah. He can't afford it, anyway."*
"Ah, what can you do?"
"Shit, Cops are coming. See you on Saturday?"
*"Yep!"*
"Once Again, Captain Cosmos Puts The Villains To Flight!"
"Come on, Mike... Let's just get you looked at first."
**SOON, THE HEROIC CAPTAIN COSMOS IS BEING RUSHED TO HOSPITAL, FLANKED BY HIS ARCH NEMESIS.**
"You OK there, Mike?"
"Dr Deviant! You - I - I... Where Am I? An Ambulance? What The Hell Did I Just Do?"
“You fell over and busted your hip. We’d just knocked off a bank, and you were trying to stop us…”
“Oh Shit, Not Again!”
"You having a lucid moment?"
"Right Now I Am, But I Don't Know How Long It Will Last. The Doctor Says It's Getting Worse. I Don't Want To End Up In A Chair Someday, Dribbling Over Myself."
"I'm sorry, Mike."
"For What? You Dirtbags Always Come Through. Not Like The 'Good Guys', Not Any More. They Just Let You Go When You Slow Down. Sometimes I Think They're Ashamed To Even Be Seen With Me."
"There's a very fuzzy line between being a Super Hero and a Super Villain. It's very easy to cross."
"I Know. But I Gotta Question For You Now."
"Yeah, Mike?"
"Why?"
"My Dad used to tell me stories about you, back in your prime. The good old days. There were real legends then, on both sides. The battles, the evil schemes, the heroic rescues... It all seemed to mean something back then. He was your biggest fan, in a weird sort of way.
"The Asshole Used To Send Me Christmas Cards."
"It was me that did the crayon drawings of Santa."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Wow."
"But you know what Dad would tell me, in-between planning to take over the world?"
"That I Was His Arch Enemy?"
"That and this - you're only ever as good as your opposition."
"We're Getting Near To The Hospital, I Think."
"It's been an honour, Mike."
"Look, I - I Need To sleep. The Painkillers Are Making Me Drowsy."
"Shall I call Cassie?"
"Yeah. Number's In My Utility Belt."
"Thanks. Look, I'm sorry. This isn't the way it should have turned out."
"..."
"You asleep? Probably for the best."
**THE END**
DON'T MISS NEXT MONTH'S EXCITING ISSUE, WHEN CAPTAIN COSMOS GETS SENT TO A HOME!!! | It was a brisk October morning. The park was full of people milling about and enjoying their Saturday morning, some were out on dates hoping to find true love, others were simply enjoying their time. Towards a wide river, many tables were set up so people could have a view of the mega city, enjoy a bite to eat, or play chess. Two older gentlemen were at one such table.
"Ah! Your hand left the piece!" Said one man. His hair had greyed, but still held its dignified form of his youth, his hands had a slight tremble that comes with age. He wore an overcoat with a scarf tied around his neck.
"Matthias, how long must you attempt to distract me?" The man who sat across from Matthias was bald, but his eyes still held the bright passion of youth. He was clad in simple monk robes, and wore spectacles on his nose. Matthias simply smiled at his companion.
"Just like old times, eh Monk?" Monk looked up and smiled at his old nemesis turned friend.
"With you coming up with some scheme and becoming overconfident in your abilities?" His hand shook as he captured a knight with his pawn. Matthias was dumbfounded.
"Wha...how...when..." His voice trailed off in confusion.
Monk smiled, crossed his arms, and leaned back.
"You always did overlook many things in your plans. Ironic isn't it? You were once known as The Front for you cleverness and wit." Monk began to chuckle as Matthias scrambled to recover.
"Ahh...i see now..." The Front made his move after many moments of deliberation.
"Checkmate." Matthias was dumbfounded once again, as Monk had taken no time to decide his move. Matthias looked up to meet Monk's eyes, full of mischief.
"You always laid plans for certain events, but you never had plans for unaccounted happenings." Matthias sighed, this was the fifth time in a row he had been beaten.
Suddenly a woman screamed, and a man clutching a purse began running along the path adjacent to the old timers. Suddenly the thief held a hand to his eye and ran headlong into a tree.
Matthias looked over to see a piece missing from the board, and observed a hidden smile on Monk's face. Monk held a finger up to his lips.
A young hero began running towards the recovering miscreant.
"Foul villain" he began, "you should never have attempted any misdeeds while I, Steelboy, yet draw breath!"
With a single movement, he threw the vagabond over his shoulder, and threw the purse back to the crowd that was forming. He turned to leave when he spotted two elderly gentlemen enjoying a game of chess. He recognized one of them.
"The Front! Evil Front, you shall be captured by me this day!" He struck up a fighting pose, and his former prisoner fell off his shoulder and ran off into the crowd.
Matthias looked over to see the young hero challenging him.
"I believe he is looking for you." Matthias gave a look at Monk who had just delivered the sarcastic remark. He never knew Monk could be playful.
"Go away kid, i've done my time." He gave a dismissive wave and attempted to go back to enjoying his morning.
"Thought you could fool me eh? Steelboy never backs down!" With this, he lunged towards the unsuspecting Matthias. As he reached the table a cane caught him in the gut, swung him around and threw him to the ground. Surprised, Steelboy looked up to see Monk standing know, both hands on his cane.
"Wait a minute, you're Monk! Why are you defending this man? You and he fought for years!" Monk's face was as an elderly grandfather, attempting to teach his grandchildren.
"Young man, do you believe evil men will always be evil?"
The question was blunt, and Steelboy attempted to respond as he stood up.
"Of course!" He shouted.
"If you fall behind on a payment, does the bank not come after you?" Matthias was as confused as Steelboy.
"Yet, if you pay the amount, is it not forgiven?"
Steelboy had no response.
"So if a man commits an evil act, he is behind on his payment, but should he atone for his misdeeds, he is paying the amount in the hopes of forgiveness. I believe this man has wronged many, but many years ago, he saw the errors of his ways, and turned his life around. His debt is large, but he is paying it back."
Steelboy looked at him, then to Matthias, and then back to Monk.
"What on earth are you going on about? Loans? Payments? Who cares you old foggy, i'm taking him in!"
Once again he lunged forward, aiming for Matthias, but Monk had other plans. He grabbed Steelboy's fist, and effortlessly threw him into the river.
Monk sat back down, "shall we play another game?" He asked with a twinkle in his eye.
| 2017-04-13T06:02:27 | 2017-04-13T05:53:36 | 73 | 41 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | First time doing one of these, Just seemed fun. Kind of all over the place, hopefully it reads alright.
\-----------------------------------------------
The humans had fought fiercely during first contact hundreds of years ago. When Xenadites made the mistake of viewing them as just another destructive species worth cleansing off a valuable gaia world to prepare it for the Survivors. Since the goal was the preservation of the planet there were no planetary bombardments, forcing them into a bloody ground war.
The humans were quite astute and quickly gleamed the purpose of the invasion, resorting to what we later learned were Guerilla tactics. The humans were tougher than expected when they continued to fight on despite losing limbs, they were more courageous than any member of the Survivors, risking their lives to rescue anyone in danger. They were merciful and provided aid to captured invaders, keeping them in what we learned were prisoner of war camps. They were smart and learned of the Survivors, reverse engineering captured technology to send out pleas for a cease-fire, for salvation.
The Survivors debated amongst themselves about the proper course, with the Xenadites believing that the humans were merely intelligent pests that needed to be eliminated to save the world. Others believed they would adapt and change their ways when guided and nurtured by the other Survivors. In orbit during the initial talks, as the Xenadites ground forces were finishing capturing a small city named Moscow, we were all shocked into silence as a unnatural cloud rose from the planet below us after a bright flash. Instruments aboard various consoles shrieked as confirmation of a nuclear weapon being detonated by the humans on their own world.
An immediate end was brought to the war as it became clear that if they humans couldn't survive, no one would survive, and the world would be ravaged. We, the Caadreks, took the humans under our wings and brought them up to the Survivors standards. We taught them how fragile life was in the intergalactic stage with so few worlds being habitable and even fewer like the Earth.
They were curious about our rag-tag bands name, Survivors, we informed them that we were all that was left of various intergalactic empires. There was a massive war between two large coalitions that was interrupted by an outside force that extinguished most life in the neighboring galaxies. There were precious few planets that supported life left and fewer species.
They flourished with proper guidance and took over our mantle as the nurturers, advancing quickly through various technology bottlenecks they rest of us struggled with like terraforming and various faster-than-light travel methods. They helped all of us regain lost worlds and pride as the centuries passed and some of the damage from the Outsiders was undone. With the struggle for surviving became less of a burden, friction developed between members of the Survivors, and the humans were able to mediate for a time between us.
The Xenadites never forgot the humiliation they suffered at human hands and began calling them weak and worthless, at first behind their backs, then to their faces in the quarterly meetings. It came as a surprise to very few when the Xenadites and a few like minded species weren't present at the next meeting, with the human representative informing the rest of us that there were border conflicts between them and the Xenadites and their allies.
Reports filtered in that one human system fell quickly, too quickly for any news of the inhabitants, but the humans were prepared at the next few systems. The next few fell after several month long battles, with new filtering in that the Xenadites were enslaving any they captured, using them for food and labor. The next set of battles were stalemates, with neither side able to gain any advantage.
From the observation craft we were able to witness and record various treaty violations by the Xenadite coalition and planned on using it as evidence for reparations when this war was over. The turning point in the conflict was sudden and brutal with no warning. Unfamiliar vessels that bore human markings had warped into one system, the Sol System, the home system of the humans. The surface of these ships were ancient and pot-marked with various battle damage with their numbers in single digits but they were supplemented by the remains of the human defense force in the region. The Xenadites openly ridiculed these ramshackle remnants of what surely had to be fleets from other systems, having pulled all of their forces to number in the hundreds as a final decisive battle.
The four vessels lumbered out alone, announcing over all open communication channels that this was the last chance at surrender, as anyone pursuing hostile actions would face swift unceasing retribution. Those neutral parties observing from their own vessels were chilled by the message and felt a peculiar nagging sensation like they were missing some important puzzle piece.
One of the few capital ships in the alien flotilla signed the death warrant for the Xenadite race. They planned to show off their new ships and held back the rest of the fleet in a holding formation. Its primary weapon was a super sized plasma cannon, using the oversized reactor in the vessel to power the weapon, so destructive in nature than the ship could only fire this weapon a dozen times before risking the destruction of the ship. The bow glowed as a star's worth of energy was built up and discharged right at the human vessels blinding all of our sensors as it clumsy rolled through the void. It was mesmerizing as it moved to engulf the lead human ship in what should have been total destruction.
Our feathers stood on end as we felt our stomachs sinking, the humans made no attempt to evade. Instead it impacted a shimmering sphere around the ship and broke against the unyielding bulwark of energy. A second and third burst impacted the vessel from the other capital ships and brought those shields down, boiling off numerous layers from the front of the vessel. Lights flickered around its length for several long moments and began drawing eager cheers from the Xenadites.
Our keen eyes noticed the other vessel's lights were flickering too and fear gripped our very core as we wondered what exactly the human's response was. Our sick curiosity was rewarded when one of the Xenadite capital ships shuddered violently and its hull buckled and bent inwards towards the middle of the vessel. Plasma vented out of gaps in the metal plating as the reactor was destroyed. Slowly it sank in on itself before blinking out of existence, followed by three more capital ships perishing in the same manner.
The rest of the battle was an absolute slaughter. The human vessels took damage that should have rendered them inoperable several times over and continued to fight. In the end they lost only one of the four vessels when it took enough damage to be rendered helpless. The other three pulled back and the Xenadites moved to board the crippled vessel, eager for vengeance in the bloody battle. There was no warning, no build up of energy, when the very fabric of reality was ripped open around the ship and swallowed it and the majority of the Xenadite fleet.
It came to light that the humans had at some point detected the Outsiders fleets moving towards the Milky way. They made massive high tech ships armed with weapons beyond our understanding and with redundancy that their military experience bred into them. For centuries they fought a war for all of us while helping us rebuild, with their reward being a war on the home front and threat of extinction.
The humans had no mercy. They methodically eliminated the remnants of the great Xenadite fleet. Repeated cries for mercy and peace fell on deaf ears and the stars themselves turned red from the sheer levels of blood spilled as worlds burned. In the end nothing was left of the Xenadites or their allies except barren husks and broken bones, a warning for the rest of the galaxy.
There will be no Survivors.
| (You know what? I'll bite. I plan on deleting this line later, but I may forget.)
"Such is the duty of lords and princes, envoy. Release the pl-"
*"Release?* That's a pompous way of saying 'annex', diplomat'"
"We only ask what is our birthright, from the great Mandate Of Our Wisdom - our law is fair, our rule is ju-"
"You bore me, drone. Now shut up and 'behold our most noble proposal, prepared for thine eyes to scrunch upon'. Uppity malcontent..."
&#x200B;
Adda, a rather...*brash*...ambassador to the now-battered Humanity, stood on the odium with her laptop on-hand. With a click, a little tap, a swoosh, and a slide, she projected a document onto the large holowall behind her. Another click, and several pre-made screenshots of highlighted documents bloomed large - Article 6, 42, and 173.
&#x200B;
"Ambassador, if you please - you are tarnishing what little Wisdom humanity has left. Please, let us guide your species to a noble existence, and join our Mantle."
There was a lull. Adda looked, incredulous - big words to come from a heartless swarm of parasitic vermin. She wanted to get this over with, go to her shuttle, open her bottle of aged non-synthetic whiskey, and wake up tomorrow with a newly-emptied bottle of forget-the-past and a killer hangover. It's the only thing keeping her in this filthy barge filled with filthy slugs covered in filthy *lies* and filthy *delusions*.
&#x200B;
...But after she finished. Which would be hard if she had to hear these...*things* speak again.
&#x200B;
"Article 6, all Lexist vessels are to be abandoned in Federate space. Article 42, all Lexist Queens shall be quarantined within Federate space. Article 173, the right to life shall be suspended to the Queens of the Caste Militaire. Everything else is just administrative jargon - we got through that in the Polar Treaties. All 12 of them.
"You are allowed to accept this unconditional surrender, effective immediately once it is signed by commanding Queens of the Lexist Union. Failure to do so will continue hostilities. Extermination is the consequence. Naturally."
The Lexist delegation was...perplexed, to say the least. Adda was...*grumpy*, to say the least. No one was happy. But Adda was proactive.
&#x200B;
"What, you don't get it? You little shits, *surrender* or *die*. That is what we put forth, and that is all we will *accept*. Any questions?"
A lone Lexist envoy stood. He was confused, dazed, but fuming. *He* had some questions.
&#x200B;
"Ambassador, what *insanity* has plagued you? This is no surrender, it is a *culling!* You most definitely lack common Wisdom, and we shall not negotiate with subspecies lacking cognition. Drone! I give you a direct command, *bring me to your lea-*"
But before he could finish, his head disappeared. Well...It flew off in chunky kibbles. Many small, bloody, *messy* bits of chunky kibble. Adda had pulled a pistol from her coat, and trained it on the envoy - with a pull, she voided the envoy of any life, leaving only a half-molten husk of seared flesh and carapace. Her hand was quivering, her knuckles bare - the brow hiding a fuming skull, only kept together with tiny strands of formality. She needed to say a *lot* to these "envoys", but the promise of whiskey kept her in the Federate's leash. Though, leash it may be, it was rather generous in its length.
She would make the best of that generosity.
"You *pompous shit*, do you even know what you're saying? Of course not, you're a *drone*, a genetically-tailored *parrot* designed to tell others what big momma wants to say"
Down from the podium, a few steps in the direction of the corpse, and a carefully aimed pistol. She pretends to shoot - only to drop her careful aim, and messily slug three bullets into the insectoid corpse.
"Yeah, you're not even *aware* of your own *heartlessness*. You *shit*, you don't even know what your 'Great Mantle of Wisdom' or *whatever-the-shit* kind of *bullshit* your queen tells you to *parrot*".
Another four steps. Another three bullets. But a novel gasp - short, quick, quivering, sharp. And a novel tremble of her lower lip.
"You can't even *think*. You just *do as you're told*, so obedient and *well-mannered*. Can you even *think?!"*
Four more steps. Two more bullets. Lexist envoys stepping aside, now confused - Adda stepping forward, with a fog on her eyes.
"Do you even know what you do? All of you filthy bugs? Can you even *feel* when you kill a man?"
She's above the corpse. It's mangled and oozing. But she trains the pistol, and unleashes her rage. Six more rounds. *Why did it have to be six?* Six more rounds, for six more months, for the four loving brothers, and the two loving parents.
"*He was called Alex. And he was my dad. And mom was there, too. She was called Fredda."*
She stomped on the corpse, guts trailing everywhere, her rage sated. Or rather, it's what she wanted - because she couldn't. Her thoughts were of violence, of strength hiding her pain. Her body stood still, in reality - frozen, weeping.
The Lexists were confused. They were ambassadors, not queens. They wondered what was wrong with this drone - until it turned around, and gave them the eyes of a Queen.
"T-there. Our terms of peace. Take it, or die."
And Adda stormed off. | 2018-12-15T00:30:27 | 2018-12-15T00:16:21 | 102 | 30 |
[WP] Once people reach a certain age, it is tradition to visit the Oracle and be told by it the way they'll die, and all of it's predictions have been 100% correct. As you finally face it yourself, the Oracle proclaims something completely unheard of before: "I have nothing to tell you." | You approach the oracle on her dais. "What do you mean?"
She smiles simply saying, "I have nothing to tell you. It is quite plain in it's meaning."
This has never happened before. Every living person who stood before was given a glimpse into their death. It was seen as a rite of passage and maturity. And here you were being denied!
"Why? Are you denying me or are you now blinded?"
"I have nothing to tell you about your future death. Tell me, do you fear Death?"
"All men fear death. They tremble at the unknown as if it were stalking them. They fight for every inch of life they can get, knowing the inevitable will come. Somewhere in the back of their minds, they hope they find the way to cheat it. Alchemy. Exotic medicines. Sorcery. You ask as if you do not know these things."
Again she smiled. "I know these things full and well. I know my death will come some day. I know how people see their deaths. But," with her smile turning into a smirk, "you did not answer my question. Do *you* fear Death?"
You pause. "No." You shake your head sadly. "I've seen what the fear of death does to people. But death is not the enemy. We live because animals die. Animals live because plants die. Plants grow from ground fertilized by the dead. No, I do not *fear* death because it is part of life."
And she smiled again. "And that is why I cannot tell you of your future death. You do not fear it. All men say they fear death, but in truth, they fear life! Living on eternally, endlessly pursuing their struggles. Hearing that they have an end gives them peace. Knowing that one day, the pains they experience in this world will end."
She approaches you, solemnly. "But you have no more pain, do you? That limp from where a bull hit you as a child? The taut scars on your shoulder from the fire? Did you truly not notice they were gone? That you're free from pain?"
You realize her words now. "You can't tell me of my *future* death you said. You mean..."
"Go in peace and let your soul rest. Your journey here took its final toll. Death will come for you and, for once, will be happy someone does not fear him." | The man in front of me looked up hopefully to the desk. the Oracle seemed to ponder something before his eyes landed back on the man before him.
"Freight train, three hours." he announced, met with despair. Weeping, the man stumbled out of sight.
The Oracle turned back to the podium where I stood giddily
"So..." he began. "I have nothing to tell you."
"Come again?" I said, bewildered.
"Dave Pilgrett, 25, you will trip over the stairs on your way out, then you'll take a taxi home and your roommate - Henry - will be asleep on the floor. On your death, I have nothing to tell you. Sorry." he added, as I fumbled through words, mortified.
After glancing at the queue behind (or lack there of) I opened my mouth to ask the Oracle more questions.
"Please, don't," he whined. "I've told you everything of meaning. If you need to ask questions, think on it, and come back tomorrow."
*(I know it's short, but I've got a bit of writer's block right now. Ima come back later.)* | 2020-02-20T10:17:32 | 2020-02-20T07:32:03 | 56 | 10 |
[WP] On a trip out to wilderness of Norway, you found a weird hammer looking thing in the woods that feels tingly to touch. You decide to pick it up bring it to a local university but upon handing it to the chief of the archeology department he gets yanked to the floor and can't lift it back up. | “I found this in the forest, professor.” I held the hammer flat with both hands. It was larger than any hammer I’d ever used before, its body shimmering in the sunlight streaming in through the large windows of the office. On one side were engravings in a forgotten language. And I swore every time I shifted the hammer, the writing changed.
Professor Savanna hadn’t moved from her seat. She squinted at the tool then asked if she could hold it. I placed it gingerly on her desk. She traced the engravings with her finger first. “Where did you find it, exactly?”
“I was on my morning hike,” I said. It was my first week at the university in a new country with a new mountainside to explore. “And I found this hidden area. Hidden like it’s surrounded by huge rocky walls and the only way to get there is through a tiny path. I couldn’t even see it when I made it to the top.”
She grasped the handle and tried to pick it up. It wouldn’t budge. “Wow it’s pretty heavy,” she said, standing up. This time she used both hands, squared her shoulders. It didn’t move in the slightest.
“Okay,” I said, getting up from my seat as well. “That’s fucking weird.”
She shot me a look.
“Sorry. It’s just weird.” I picked up the hammer with ease. I felt its weight, its strength, but I didn’t’ struggle at all to move it.
Professor Savanna didn’t say a word. She reached under the desk and withdrew a sword. She licked her lips.
We stared at each other for a moment. Hunger, vicious and terrible, flashing in her eyes. Her brown skinned turned darker and darker still. Her suit melted on her flesh, revealing a body glistening with scales. Her hair simmered, rapidly evaporating.
My hammer moved instinctively and the next thing I heard was the harsh clank of metal striking metal. Savanna’s face was an inch from my own now, and I couldn’t look away from her jet-black eyes.
“I’ve waited so fucking long,” she hissed before kicking me away from her.
On my chest was the imprint of her foot, burned through my shirt. There wasn’t a second to recuperate. The hammer flashed, and the demon professor was on me with a flurry of her sword and an evil grin on her face.
“Once I eat you, Thor’s hammer will be mine once more.”
| At this time I suggest for the sake of the tale, all the legend and lore of Odin have a basis in fact
Since you were able to pick it up you assumed it to be a representation of Thor’s Hammer and a
archeological artifact possibly of significant importance. Not until you handed it to another
did you begin to suspect an even greater epic was now to begin, of which you, were irrevocably
already a part.
The next step is obvious, If one Artifact exists there likely are others, you would begin searching
the surrounding area where you found the hammer, while the professor researched looking for any
record of similar discoveries. The next chapter would detail your visits to museums and ancient
ruins. The prof would be able to arrange to borrow any related texts or items and you could
test them against the hammer for verification and interactions.
The tingle you experienced needs to be analyze if it is RF or actually vibrations they could be
sympathetically generated. An RF signal is either being received or transmitted, in either
case you should be able to triangulate the transmitter and find the location of Asgard..
(most likely aliens)
| 2019-01-09T14:30:52 | 2019-01-09T09:18:22 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] All Humans have a Sword they are born with, Every year on your birthday, your sword gets more detailed and powerful. You, are born with a Gun. | "What am I supposed to do with *that?*"
"We've been to every dojo in the city. You have to be able to teach him *something.*"
The old man looked at me skeptically, nervously standing behind my mom and holding a pistol with both hands. "Miss, there's not much I can do for you. This isn't a gun range. We don't have a safe place for him to shoot that, let alone practice sparring."
"He needs to start on essence channeling! He's already thirteen years old!"
My mom kept arguing. She only wanted the best for me. Mastering your Spirit Sword wasn't just about learning to cut bullets out of the air or cut down a tree in one stroke (although a swordmaster could in fact do that, and it looked *awesome*), it was the gateway to unlocking your inner power. By properly channeling your essence, you could enhance yourself both physically and mentally. There were techniques to discover keen insights, deliver cutting remarks, or even improve your cooking. And it all started with the weapon born from your essence - your Spirit Sword.
Unfortunately, I didn't have a sword. I had a gun. And while my parents had taught me the basics of gun handling (treat it like it's always loaded, never point it at anything you don't want to kill), they didn't know the first thing about channeling essence through it. Nobody did. Dojo after dojo, I'd watched the same scene play out.
They told me I was unique, that my weapon would be something special. Dad had showed me his own sword, tempered with age, etched with the unique patterns of his essence, and told me that one day the weapon in my hands would become something even more amazing. He didn't warn me that I *wouldn't fit in.*
"What if I, like, borrowed a sword?"
The adults turned from their argument and I instantly wanted to sink into the ground. It was a stupid question - a Spirit Sword wasn't just a length of metal, it was *you.* Even if you learned to use a different sword, it wouldn't let you touch your essence.
"That's... Hey, don't look like that, you're actually asking a good question." Master Carter put a hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes. "Not every technique is channeled through your weapon. Especially once you get to higher levels, the sword is just a stepping stone."
He stood up straight, took a deep breath, and struck his palms together, making a sound like a thunderclap. "It's all just a part of you, see?"
"Whoa." I tried clapping the same way, making considerably less noise. "...but I don't have any essence, so I can't learn that."
""Can't" is a dangerous word for a swordmaster, young man." He said sharply. "The first masters, way back in the day, didn't know anything about essence. They just knew that everyone had a sword, and if you got good enough with the sword, you could start to do the impossible. And then they started teaching the impossible stuff, and that's how the first essence techniques were invented."
The old master pointed at me. "I can't teach you to use a gun. But I can promise you, if you get good enough with that weapon of yours, you'll start to do the impossible with it. When that happens, you come back here, and I'll teach you any essence technique you want." | The country is controlled by the archaic method as it always has been. The new king kills the last one in a duel. it is often little more than the older man wins unless he gets to be to old to even lift the thing. As such, our kingdom is very rarely led by someone intelligent and it is usually the oldest meathead in charge.
&#x200B;
My parents really weren't anything special and were convinced that my sword was defective, lacking most of the parts and being oddly shaped. The "blade" is just a long hollow tube for example. They thought it would sharpen as I aged but instead it got longer and the sword in general became more and more deformed. Probably the oddest part is that it has a moving part in the back. I learned recently that pushing the trigger that a loud sound happens and it starts smoking. Even more recently I learned that if I put rocks in the tube part they fly out at quite a fast speed. I realized that this is helpful when hunting rather than using a bow I can just launch rocks.
&#x200B;
Today yet another challenger for king appears and makes his challenge. Yes to the death and so on and so forth, the minister reads the rules as if everyone doesn't already know. The current king has been on the throne for a while and it has been prosperous for us all. No one is even sure that he can still fight. He has spent his time learning rather than swinging a sword and I believe the challenges stopped out of respect. The other man seems less than intelligent to put it politely.
&#x200B;
I'll skip the boring part but the old king lost, it wasn't much of a fight. And as he spoke it became more and more clear that he not only wasn't very bright but that he has a hard time putting together coherent sentences.
&#x200B;
I really didn't want to do this, I'm perfectly happy just reading books and hunting but...this kingdom will be destroyed if I don't step up. The minister laughs because it is well known that my sword can't even cut through parchment but I insist.
&#x200B;
BANG!
&#x200B;
And that is the anti-climactic story of how I became king just moments ago. | 2020-10-22T09:33:58 | 2020-10-22T09:26:16 | 280 | 160 |
[WP]You summon a demon in order to complete a ritual in exchange you offered all your remaining lifespan. "17 billion years...I'm can't handle that amount" it answered with a mix of shock and horror. | It happened in an instant, the demon shifted to a less ominous and intimidating form to something that I guess you could call "demon business casual".
"I cant process this amount, but let me refer you to someone who can let me just . . . " their arm phasing into the nether of Hell. "Here, this incantation can put you in touch with a representative of Hell that is authorized to process this type of claim. Just follow the ritual, its basically the same as you did before, but instead of the small rodent and the ashes of a loved one it should be a small semi sentient animal; like a really smart dog or a half dead baby"
"That's it?" I asked " There's nothing else you can do? You aren't even going to try?
"Listen, unless you are looking to exchange your womb for eternal beauty or maybe win the lottery, I can't help you. No one at the basic level can. I'm what you might refer to as a 9-5 demon, this kind of thing is WAAAAAAAAY above my paygrade and to be honest, you are kind of nuts. You just learned you have 17 billion years minus, what a few decades, is it really so bad that he left?" a portal opened as they turned. "Do the incantation, don't do the incantation I really don't care. Its 4:57 and its been a long week."
"Pathetic." the words left my mouth and I instantly regretted it.
It froze, the last straw slammed down as if it were made of lead. "Pathetic." it murmured "Stupid. . . useless. . . incompetent. . . lacks motivation. . . not mid-level material" it continued on, its voice reverberating dully but forcefully inside my skull. The words filled my mind and the air around me, pushing against my chest.
The room seemed to lunge forward but nothing moved except the demon, it walked effortlessly. The only thing that changed was the demon its form changing back to the way it had appeared powerful and full of hate, only it kept growing.
&#x200B;
Its dwarfed me, scrapping its back against the ceiling of my apartment, as it leaned in. Putrid gasses escaped its mouth as it grinned.
"What good is 17 billion years if your mind is shattered?" the demon disappeared.
A voice giggled "At the tone, the time will be 5:01 pm"
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
This is my first short so please any notes would be helpful. | Backstory: I’m 17 years old, I come from a family of witches, my grandmother asked me to perform a ritual that would help me grow in power, but I, a skeptical girl, didn’t think this was real. Until I heard a demonic voice respond back, that I have a 17 billion year lifespan.
Now:
The candles in the room go out.
I quickly look around and see my window had been opened, letting a breeze in.
CLACK!
I close the window shut, then goosebumps form all over my body.
*Someone is behind me... I feel it*
I turn around and see a tall pale man towering over me. This absolutely terrified me. I did recognize him, but I can’t pin point where from.
“What do you want?” I asked in shock.
He cocked his head to the side, staring at me with his dark, empty eyes. Then took a step towards me, moved my dark brown hair to the side, revealing my bare neck.
I started tearing up. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
He leaned down towards my ear, and whispered in a deep cold voice, “You’ll see very soon.” Then he leaned back, smiled showing an animalistic mouth.
His smile was so evil, I couldn’t stop the tears from running down my cheeks as I closed my eyes.
Then a surge of pain went through my body.
He was biting my neck. | 2021-04-11T00:21:12 | 2021-04-10T20:30:38 | 83 | 17 |
[WP] You are bored and you pray for true love to a forgotten god on a whim. To your utter shock, a portal opens up above your head and a solemn void says, "This compass will show you the way to your soulmate." The thing is, the compass would just point to the stars no matter where you go. | (note: It's my first time writing stuff other than fanfics and essays so I used 'he' for everyone because I have no concept of character design whatsoever)
"So my soulmate's an astronaut ?"
The void flickered for a moment but chose to guide the human again. "I believe the space station is above another country as of this moment."
"Oh? You're pretty helpful." The human shook the compass as if that would change the needle's direction.
"Wow, this sucks." The human sprawled onto his messy desk, "I can't believe my true love is an alien."
"You dislike aliens ?" The void asked curiously.
"I mean...not exactly, " The human had an odd gleam in his eyes, "I would really like to dissect an alien."
The void, or the god behind the void stifled a laugh.
"That way I would actually be doing something productive." The human yawned. "Proper research."
"Is it too late to change my wish?"
The void didn't answer.
"Huh...does this void thing use wifi? Does this god guy have bad wifi?" He looked down at the compass. "Maybe before finding aliens I should figure out how this thing works, but they're not teaching biomagnetism until next semester..."
The human sighed and pressed his head to the desk.
Behind him, the god sighed too. In his astral form no human could see, the god felt his head ache as the mortal's compass pointed directly at his heart. Just when he thought he would get along with this human.
His soul was rudely jolted back to the divine realm among the stars as the god of love shook his shoulders repeatedly, shouting about how he gave away the true love compass the god of love gifted him for his birthday to some mortal.
"..."
The god of love looked at the other god, hands crossed. "Oi, are you listening to me, do you have any idea how much work I put into that compass, how much work I put into making sure you at least get to experience *l'amour* once in your miserably long life that's why no one remembers you you don't have any juicy myths for the mortals to gossip about-"
By this time, the void god had tuned out whatever speech his fellow god had prepared for him. Still...the god of love looked furious enough to start another godly war. The gods have started wars over more ridiculous things before, but the void god decided he had better things to do since it's the 21st century and the mortals probably can't take any of their meddlings without nuking each other. The paperwork to start a war was also incredibly annoying.
&#x200B;
"Calm down, I found a true love option before I gave the compass away." He lied between his teeth.
"Really ?! I thought you said the compass was spinning 24/7 for the last two centuries !" The god of love stopped shaking him.
"Mm...yeah, but-"
The god brought up the void again, this time both gods could see the mortal who was playing level 300 of candy crush.
"The mortal you gifted the compass to..." The god of love recognised. "Don't tell me he's..."
"My true love chosen by the divine compass, also an absolute maniac that wants to dissect me..." | "This fucking compass is broken." Shawn muttered annoyed as he stared at the open sky.
Why on Earth did he pray to a God that had been gone longer than humanity has existed. And why for the love of God did he ask for true love?! He could have asked for money, or a career or money, or a new car or money and did he mention money?
He wasn't going to lie that he wasn't excited the first time he got the compass, thinking it would lead him to his one true love. The first day passed in excitement as he packed his stuff to follow his compass, which will lead to his heart's desire. Then came the second day and like a boy on his way to ask out the girl of his dreams, he filled the compass but it kept pointing towards the night sky illuminated by beautiful stars. Then the next day same thing happened and the next and the next. But he didn't give up. Finding love wasn't easy after all.
But now, after close to three months he was growing frustrated. He felt as if he was going to reach the edge of the world before he met his soulmate.
"I wish that this search would end." He muttered as he closed the compass and sat down, he needed to rest before he decided to give up.
A ringing filled the surrounding and everything around him started vibrating. Was it an earthquake? He looked around seeing the rocks shaking as the ringing grew louder.
A sudden burst of light illuminated his surroundings. He looked up and saw a huge ball of fire hurtling towards him. His last thought before the darkness enveloped him was,
*I need to make better wishes.*
~
Shawn opened his eyes. Bright light was around him and for a moment he thought that he was in the hospital. But the silence was soothing and no hospital smells reached his nose. He got up and saw a room decorated in white curtains, with little cloud self-prints.
"Shawn." A musical voice reached him. It was the most beautiful sound he had heard in his entire life.
"I can't believe you found me." | 2022-01-24T07:53:53 | 2022-01-24T07:40:04 | 451 | 111 |
[WP] the apocalypse has come and gone, and civilization has started to rebuild itself. you are an archeologist investigating a local legend in a land once called Florida. down at a sacred cape, legend has it that mankind rode dragons into the sky to live in. the stars and promised to return one day | Of course, they didn't know then the dragons were *real*.
Dr. Luke Kensington sat staring dismally into the campfire, listening to the old stories. He wasn't drunk enough for this shit. It was another hot night under the stars, listening to the ocean tug at the sand. Listening to his colleague regale all those bright-eyed new recruits with impossible old stories.
His colleague, Dr. Martha Key, always did this, their first night out with any new research team. She would gather them out here on the cape with a bonfire and they would roast rabbit legs and lizards and drink orange wine, and Dr. Key would tell them the stories of the ones who came before.
All of it bullshit, Luke thought.
The fire cast deep shadows on Martha's face. She lifted her arms high over her head and declared, "We once lived here, in the old days. When the land was unburnt and before the seas boiled, we lived here with our dragons."
Luke took another heavy swig of his watery whiskey. He snorted into it.
One of the PHD students looked at him, curiously. Sophie. She was always *noticing* things. A good trait, in a scientist. An annoying one in a subordinate.
"What?" she whispered.
Luke shook his head. "Listen to the pretty campfire story," he mumbled.
Martha gave him a cutting glare that he recognized all-too well. The *shut the fuck up Lucas* look. They weren't married, had never even been quite romantic, but the job held them together like an old married couple anyway. "Fire-breathing and metal-bound they were. They carried us roaring across the heavens. In those days, we could fly anywhere we wanted, quick as anything."
The ocean sighed with Luke as he stood up, wobbly. The fire danced like real dragon fire before him. "I'm going to go get a drink," he mumbled, slurring.
"Doctor," Martha reminded him, her voice cold, "we still have to work in the morning."
Early in the morning, they were meant to rise and dig through the sand for evidence that couldn't be there. They wouldn't find dragon bones or fossilized claws. No, they would find old springs and bits of loose metal. The fantasy would die for the grad students, one by one, as they realized it was nothing more than a story to comfort them at night.
And then they could get the real work done. After all, what were they there for, if not to piece together the old days? Figure it out where it all went wrong?
Luke just snorted. "Okay, then you keep feeding them bullshit, and I'm going to bed."
"Oh, you drunk old goat," Martha grumbled.
The students stared at them wide-eyed, like watching a tennis match.
"What does he mean, Dr. Key?" Sophie asked, the only student brave enough to speak. The fire shone in her eyes.
"He means he's an old crank and he's going to bed instead of ruining the ambiance." Martha looked at Luke, coldly.
"Right, I'm an old crank who only believes in archaeological evidence. You know what we have evidence of? Shuttles. Ships. Airplanes. You know what we surely fucking don't have evidence of?" He lifted his hands and waggled his fingers, sarcastically. "*Magic dragons*."
"You're ignoring the claw marks in Jacksonville, preserved in the ash--"
"Right, yeah, when I see big scrapes in the ground, my first thought is--"
Luke cut himself off.
There was something streaking golden across the sky. Almost like a comet, but coming hot toward them. It bristled and burned across the atmosphere as it plunged. But it was not shaped like the old carcasses of shuttles they found, lying around like dead gods.
No. It looked like it had *wings*.
He breathed out, in quiet disbelief, "Dragons."
***
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofstatic/comments/fh40e6/beyond_the_stars_part_2/) is up on /r/nickofstatic :) Thank you for reading! | "So why'd you drag us down to this backwater swamp?" Colette asked, with a slight eye roll. Though, I couldn't blame her for being apprehensive. After all, we were ankles deep in a swamp with nothing but soggy greens and murky water around for miles.
"We're here to do what we always do, uncover the past and see what we can learn." She gave an exaggerated nod and continued, "Yes Barnett, I know our job description. But what could we ever learn from this muck? What outlandish tip are we following now?"
"Well Colette, we're because local legend suggest says that some of mankind rode on dragons into the sky to live in and escape the impending disaster. Supposedly, they planned to return one day."
Her immediate laughter was an expected response. The duration of it, however, was not expected.
"Lemme catch my breath a bit, before I.." Colette attempted to talk between her fits of laughter, all the while slinging mud around as he stomped off her energy. "Phew. Okay, so we're here chasing dragons, then?"
"No. However, if you come to your senses, I'm sure you're well aware that myth is often based in truth. In this case, we believe this legend originates from the time of spaceflight and that this land was once used as some type of launching center for space vehicles."
"You really believe that we were once capable of spaceflight, Barnett? Look, I know that before the Last War, our technology far surpassed anything we've had since then. But spaceflight? And here in the backwater land of Cape Cannibal of all places?"
I laughed to myself hearing that name. She was right, locals did call this place Cape Cannibal. No one was really sure why though, considering that there was no verified reports of cannibalism in any of the local inhabitants. Perhaps it was a misconstruction of its original name. I knew I had been mentally digress for too long, judging by the scowl from Colette.
"You see, the sea levels were once much lower than they are today. This area used to be less swampy and more beachy. It's likely that any remnants of the launch center are deep underwater and barely recognizable as human constructions."
"Well then, I have to ask you again. Why did you drag us down to this backwater swamp? Especially if there's nothing here for us to find?"
I smiled and looked up towards the sky. "The lesser known part of that local legend is the return of the dragons. It says that in the days leading up to it, they will encircle the sky with flame, spiraling out in all directions, to signal their imminent return."
I followed Colette's gaze as she looked up. Just barely visible against the twilight sky, a small ring of fire was hovering in the sky. Her eyes widened as her hands clasped over her mouth.
"The locals have been seeing this for about a week now. I think we're on to the discovery of our careers..." | 2020-03-11T08:58:09 | 2020-03-11T07:47:50 | 692 | 96 |
[WP] You are the Last Hero. The one they call when nobody else can handle the threat. You've answered the call only twice since discovering your powers, devastating as they are. You prefer the quiet life, living on your stipend. The Red Phone has just rung for the third time. | I blinked in surprise, turning from the TV in surprise as it rang.
The Red Phone.
They don't bother me lightly. I've made it clear that I value my privacy too much to get involved in every little scuffle between nations. After it leaked that the Heroes Society was trying to recruit me and Doctor Nefarious came after my daughter (and, subsequently, got broken, twice) I made it clear that I just wanted to do my work as a rocket scientist. Unbridled control of all of the fundamental forces made me far too powerful to be fighting super villains in the streets. But, I told the world at that press conference, if an extinction level event threatened I would be there to help.
And so the Red Phone only rings when there is great need. Only when all other options have been tried and failed. Only when the very existence of humanity is at stake.
It's rang twice before. Only twice. The first time nuclear missiles were in the air. All of the nukes. Someone - the leader of some underdeveloped republic in Latin America I think - called and pleaded with me to stop them from landing. Only I, with my great power, could do it. No one else had a chance to save the world. And so, with a sigh, I did it. I made gravity my bitch, compressed time, flew around the world, and converted all the nuclear payloads to lead.
The second time, it was an alien invasion. I know, I know, but for some godforsaken reason these idiots really did fly 487 light years to pick a fight. No, I don't know why. We never did get a chance to communicate with them. Funny thing about black hole drives: screw with one of the universal constants in a narrow field around them and they'll suck in your whole ship. A small tweak to the gravity field and they go flying off along galactic north into the intergalactic void. I didn't even break a sweat. I'd actually been waiting for that call.
And so I go to pick up the phone, wondering what world ending threat they need me to deal with this time.
"Professor Forces speaking."
"Um... um... um... hi."
I blink. This kid can't be a day over seven judging by the voice. She continues.
"They said if no one else can help people call you."
"Yes, that's true. What's going on?"
"I... I need help."
I take a breath. Ok. It's a little kid. But maybe it's still serious.
"What do you need help with?"
"I can't figure out my take aways."
I slowly blink. "Your... take... aways."
"Yeah. I'm gonna get in trouble if I don't finish my math homework, but... but I'm stuck on my take aways."
I let out a breath, and with it the tension that had been building in my chest. It's not a world threatening disaster. It's just a kid who needs help with her homework. I almost laugh, but hold back for fear of hurting her feelings. And together we work through the super confusing world of 2nd grade math.
Just as we finish, I hear a familiar voice in the background. "Patty! What are you doing! Get away from that phone!"
"But daddy, you said he could help!"
I hear the phone being taken away from the child and the voice, almost panicked speaks more clearly. I instantly place it. "Professor Forces, I'm so sorry. She shouldn't have bothered you."
"Mister President, it is fine. Calm down." After a beat, I add, "After all, children are our future, and our future not knowing how to do take aways is, indeed, a grave threat." | I am tired of all the things I have seen.
The "Problem Solver" is my nickname, and as for much I hate it, I must say it is catchy and appropiate.
They only call me when there is a problem that the other heros cannot handle, like a last choice, a last hope, a last light before someone closes the curtain.
My powers are pretty much the biggest threat and the biggest chance for humanity, however I try not to use them as much. I can rain down hell upon earth against any foe I desire, and it doesnt even cause THAT much destruction on the enviroment, like a small field of destruction.
They have only called me 2 times before, when the world felt that it was finally going to sleep, I was the alarm clock. I easily defeated the threats, I prevailed where others failed.
Yet for all the things I have done good, I am the one that has suffered the worst. No one ever wanted to be near me from a early age, not once have I had a true friend, since all were too busy living their lives normally, I was busy being alone, and I have come to a sort of peace with it.
The only thing that keeps me sane in this hole are the tools I have at hand, to build a better life for me at least. I have tried cooking, and that gives me a sort of nostalgic feeling, reminding me when I was not a... thing.
Now I know what I am, the monster no one wants to acknowledge, the nightmare everyone hopes they never have, for If it came true, no one would be safe.
All I am saying is that all this feels... exhausting, to be this sort of hero, but more like a tool.
When I beat someone, the other ones get the praise, the glory, the victory!.
Even if they failed first, no one cares about that, Oh of course they dont, because they are the "Good guys", the ones that can never fail, the ones everyone aspires to be. No one wants to aspire to be me, I can tell you that much.
And I must be left out, to suffer, to be alone, to rot, until their needs demand me to do the thing I hate the most again, the one thing I despise as much as some of them despise me.
Now the phone rings again, like a call for another false glorious moment, but maybe it is a hope for finally being recognized.
I hope it is interesting this time. | 2022-03-29T10:06:36 | 2022-03-29T07:09:54 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion. | In the far away land of Sala-McSnerd
Lived a middle aged woozle named Nudist Jay Bird
Each day by the river he'd hunt for wild snuthings
Each night he'd return with two bags full of nothings
"We're hungry!" said his wife. "Get back on the job!"
So he'd head back out, his hand still on the door knob
And even his children - both of whom he adored
Screamed "don't come back without snick-snucks from the snick-snucking store!"
With a sigh he'd go back on the wild snuthing hunt
Wishing his wife and his kids weren't such cunts
When a sound from the river had caught his attention
He could not tell for sure but he thought he heard his name mentioned
"Down here" came the noise, "look to my direction"
And he saw with a start it came from his reflection
"I can help you," it said, "from your noser to your toeser
Lean down your ear, just a little bit closer!"
"I have questions to answers you haven't yet asked
Like why does it hurt when you don't use your flask?"
He couldn't believe it, he HAD wondered that
So he leaned a bit closer and took of his old hat.
"The answer," it said it said as it removed its hat too
"The answer, of course, should seem simple to you.
Take the rope from your snuthing trap shooter
And tie one end to this rock and one end to your booter"
He did as he was told with gusto and passion
Then tossed the rock in till he heard a big splashin
And with the ripples his new helpful friend disappeared
But the pain from the drowning was not as bad as he feared. | I am sad
Sad I am
Have i gone mad
I might just have
I would not could not anymore
my life is just one great big chore
I try to dream but cant escape
This life that i have learned to hate
Ive rustled and bustled
and truffled about
With bad thoughts and worse thoughts
I can't drown them out
So think me a coward
if thats what you must
And this cowards body
will be turned to dust
Goodbye to you all
I can't say that i'll miss you
but don't cry for me now,
Because I'm fresh out of tissue
Edit: Formatting | 2015-01-17T07:16:40 | 2015-01-17T04:21:47 | 46 | 15 |
[WP] Your father died when you were a child. Before he passed, he wrote you letters, one for each birthday, until your eighteen. Over the years they’ve become more and more eerily specific - addressing things he couldn’t have known would occur. | I don't know how he died, but it never really seemed to matter to me until recently. I just turned eighteen today, and like every year before, I received another envelope from my mother. Inside was a letter, supposedly written by my father. The thing is, he can't have written this one. No one could write this unless they were alive today. But the paper, the ink, the handwriting, everything is the exact same as the previous letters. I even remember seeing it in the stack of numbered envelopes from previous years. I'd been looking forward to reading this one since I was 13, when I first noticed they were a little odd. That was the one where he said "I figure your arm is probably broken, you being my son and all, and I hope it gets well soon." And the very next week I fell while climbing a tree, I fell and broke both bones in my forearm.
At first glance that seems like an eery coincidence. But I was curious, and I still had the letters he had sent before then. When I went back to look, I noticed he had made vague but surprisingly true predictions about a lot of aspects of my life. He knew I would lose all my baby teeth by age 7, he knew our little league baseball team would go to State, and he knew our dog would die by eating a bag of chocolate cake mix. I knew I had to see the rest of the letters, so I would know what happens in my life, but my mom kept them all in a safety deposit box. She took me to the bank one day and showed me the stack. There were only five left. Five years until I maybe got an idea of how he's been predicting pieces of my life. Mom told me that dad had made her promise not to give them to me until my birthdays.
That was five years ago, and I was prepared for whatever I read in this envelope marked "18". I've made peace with him, in a sense. I know I can't change the past, and I know that whatever happens in my life happens, wether my dad predicted it or not. It didn't mean he pushed my life in any particular direction. Or so I thought.
"James, I hope adulthood treats you well. In fact, at this point I feel like you'll be comfortable enough to read that I know it will treat you well. I'm sure if you're anything like I was, the past few years have been tough. You've had your heart broken, you may have broken some hearts without realizing it. You've argued with your mother in ways you regret and have since reconciled with her. I'm sure you've planned your rooming situation for Tech, I expect you might be living in the same dorm I was in when I went there (ask your mom). I hope you're living with your best friend, although you may not like him as much after living with him for a year. That's not any sort of prediction, that's just advice my father told me.
I need to address the elephant on these pages. You know at this point that I've known things about your life that I logically should not know about seeing as I'm going to be dead by the time you read them. I'm sure you're waiting for some type of reveal about my not being dead. That your mother wanted to keep you from me for some terrible reason and that she only said I was dead. But you saw the letters. The stack that was leftover after your thirteenth birthday. They were written at the same time, using the same pen and papers. And I am dead. In the year 2018, when you're reading this, no version of me walks the earth, my ghost is not still with you, and my brain isn't being kept somewhere. I hate to do this to you, son, I truly do.
I hate that I can't tell you.
I hate that I can't let you know what I know and how I know it. I know this is upsetting and a let down, but some things aren't meant to be revealed quite so easily.
Instead I'll point you in the right direction. You aren't alone. You're going to meet someone, several people, in fact, who know what's happened to me. You decided to major in physics at school, and that's the path you'll want to be on to meet these people. They'll be professors, fellow students, even a generous custodian, and they will help you discover the truth.
I love you. And one day I hope you see me again.
-Dad" | \*Happy Eleventh Birthday, son! I hope you are enjoying your new PlayStation that we got you!\*
I read those first words, centered at the top of the white card\-stock letter, with a shudder. I am eighteen now, and I've been getting these cards in the mail every birthday since I was five, the year that my father died. One might say that this is some sick joke \- that some sadistic bastard has been mimicking my father's handwriting and signature for the last thirteen years. It might just be some lunatic stalker who places the cards in the mail in the dead of night on the eve of my birthdays. One might say that these are fake, and I might even err on that person's side, except for one single thing.
At the bottom of each letter is the same message:
\*I will always love you, son.\*
\*Sincerely, Will Patterson\*
And next to that message is a fragment of my father's wedding ring. A thirteenth of the whole, to be exact, now that I've fitted the pieces together. Every birthday they've been coming in, and they fit perfectly together.
One might say that this is a fake ring, to take it even further. Well, I might once again err on that person's side in a case of ignorance, but I know the truth. When I was sixteen, I contacted the mortician of my father's burial. I asked him if I could raise my father's dead body and look at it. For a fee of $150 \(almost all that I had saved up\), he surfaced the coffin. I saw exactly what I suspected, and I knew at that moment that one of two things was happening. Either the mortician was playing games with me and raising my father's grave, chopping off my father's ring finger off, cutting my father's ring into thirteenths, attaching them to excellently crafted letters with identical signatures and handwriting, fusing my father's finger back to his body \(perfectly so\) and reattaching the ring fragments to his finger, or my father's ghost was talking to me.
My father's ghost seemed the more reasonable explanation. At that time, only two little bits of the ring were still on Will Patterson's bony, desiccated left ring finger.
\*Happy Fifteenth Birthday, son!\*
\*I know it seems tough sometimes, but just remember that your mother and I will always love you. That bully, Nicholas Thompson, don't let him get you down. That English teacher who hates you so much, don't let her get you down. That quiet girl with the long, red hair isn't too good for you; you should ask her out! Be outgoing! Be strong and tough and all the thing that I could never be. I want to see you grow into a handsome, successful, loving, and loved man.\*
\*Just remember this one thing, no matter what happens in this next year: What you think others think of you is not relevant. The most successful people do not let other people affect them negatively. They persevere.\*
\*I will always love you, son.\*
\*Sincerely, Will Patterson\*
\(a dull fragment of metal with part of a latin word on it, slightly brown with dirt\) | 2018-05-26T10:26:12 | 2018-05-26T10:15:33 | 203 | 18 |
[WP] At the age of twelve you started randomly seeing a green line and a red line appear on the ground. You always followed the green line and have lived a successful and happy life. Ten years later you are on top of the world, but bored. Time to see where the red line leads. | Green for go, red for stop. The rules applied as always, and as a normal, non-colour blind individual, I followed the soothing colour of nature as it led me to prosperity. The green line directed me away from the train station when there was an anarchist bombing. The green line led me to the office where I would eventually be employed at. The green line even told me when people were coming to foil my plans of burglary, during my period of poverty. But I'd always paid so much attention to my saviour that the other, more striking line never surprised me as it did now. Always, the bright red directly contradicted the light green, leading to an obvious conclusion. The red line must be a curse! The green line was the authentic life-saver.
But now...now it was different. If the red line was always wrong and the green line was always right...then *why were the two leading to the same place?* I looked forward, then at my feet, where the contrasting colours mixed to form a near-straight line. Undoubtedly, they ended at the same place. But the red line always signified the wrong choice!
Screw it, I thought. I'd lived in comfort for decades since I'd discovered my power. The small mistake I might commit wouldn't mean anything. I stormed right in, and the lights within temporarily blinded me. But my eyes instantly focused on someone in the room. Someone I knew.
"Don't do it!" I shouted, staring at the gun in my friend's hand. If I'd been a second later...I shuddered. But his expression stood steadfast in defiance as the weapon was pointed at his skull. "I've nothing left to live for. Not even you," he spat, the words breaking my very heart though I knew he didn't mean it. I grabbed the pistol, where the green line and the red line led to. In an instant, it clattered to the floor, as my friend fixed a steely gaze on me.
"I'm not worth saving," he said, his eyes beginning to tear. "Even my school of choice doesn't want me. I'd tried twice, but I was too worthless to enter. What for do I live?" I was stunned, his words robbing mine out of my mouth. It was true. What did he have to live for beside art? Then it hit me.
"Hitler, live for your country! It technically isn't your birth country, but you love it all the same. Protect it with your life," I advised, sayig whatever I could to diffuse the volatile explosive before me. His gaze drooped, and his eyes looked wistfully on. "For Germany..." he whispered, his voice crackling with excitement and patriotism. Screaming his country's name, he rushed out of the house, his gun left behind. The green and red lines still pointed towards the life I'd saved. Adolf was always my best friend, and his life was as much to him as it was to me. I smiled, though I still didn't understand one thing.
Why was the red line there?
Edit: Fixed a couple of plot holes! Thanks to /u/glylittleduckling and /u/CarlHenderson | "Honey." It's my wife speaking. Her hand is on my arm. Her fingers dig into my coat like they do to the skin on my back when we're making love. She wants me *with* her, *in* her - to stay.
But the feeling is different. For some reason. It's...it's all wrong.
I want to leave. Why won't she let me? Usually I don't mind; but for some reason, that red line is glowing like a neon light of temptation - a gambling sign in Vegas, a honky-tonk bar-slash-strip club, probably.
Her robe falls partly open, and I see the rounded curve of a smooth breast. She did it on purpose. I'm not aroused. I'm angered.
*Everytime she doesn't get what she wants, she does this! Why can't she just let me be a man! Let me go in peace!*
I feel trapped. I want freedom. Independence. Air. Her hand is everywhere where it shouldn't be. She's whispering into my ear, warning me about all the things she's going to do to me if I follow her into the bedroom.
I'm astounded by her nerve. I'm disgusted and ashamed at myself, for I know there was a point in time when I would've been turned on by her seductive threats.
"Leave me alone, damnit!" I push her away.
She falls backward onto the couch. She's scared - her eyes wide and innocent. Her robe is open completely now but she's too scared to move.
She doesn't know who I am. She's waiting for me to say something, to remind her that the man standing in front of her isn't a stranger.
But I can't...I don't even know who I am anymore... The red line has changed me.
I open the door and leave. She calls my name and that's the last thing I hear before I slam the door.
Edit: Might continue.
| 2017-08-23T06:49:01 | 2017-08-23T05:44:04 | 175 | 30 |
[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. | Humans are a species of civilized monsters.
There was silence in the vaulted halls of the home of the Council, as the human delegation passed. For each member species, the station housing the center of the Milky Way's government had its own name. Officially, human governments called it Canis Prime. Most of us, however, had lovingly dubbed it Grand Central Station; a meeting place, a crossroads, a symbol of unity.
That's what it was supposed to have been. What it was no longer.
The hallways, no longer teeming with chatter, stank of fear.
We humans had always been aware of our reputation among the rest of the galaxy. The diplomats never said it our faces, of course - decorum had always been observed in the halls of political power among the members of the Galactic Council. But we heard the rumors. Things like that were impossible to hide. Given enough time, a word spoken ill behind one's back will always make it to one's ears.
We smiled and accepted it. It was better this way. Better that they didn't know. Better that they think us overly kind to the point of weakness, rather than reveal ourselves for what we actually are; creatures little better than a wild predator, killing for power, for territory, for pleasure, held in place by binding rules that we enforce upon ourselves because, if we hadn't, we simply wouldn't be here anymore. Weak or not, we were loved, back then. Welcomed on every planet as peacekeepers, we served in the enviable position of mediator between conflicting races. It was a position that granted considerable political clout and the pleasure of being liked, if not precisely respected, by nearly all we encountered. Not that we were spineless, either; just less inclined to hot anger than the rest of the species of the galaxy. It served us well.
Or it did, until the Praerept Confederacy disputed our claim to a colony planet.
This wasn't abnormal - it wasn't the first time humans had entered into a colony dispute with another race. It often resulted in humanity conceding more land than we might have liked, but it maintained out reputation as it was, and there was a growing tendency to look down upon any race that 'took advantage' of our apparently diplomatic nature. It served our purposes to allow this, and we thought that the same might happen here; claims would be reviewed, we would conceded probably a little more than was strictly fair, and all would go back to normal.
That's not what happened, this time. The Confederacy initially laid claim to the land under one colony city as the site of an earlier confederate landing zone. We tabled an offer to pay them for the land, much more than a barren landing zone would normally have been worth. They rejected, and laid additional claim to the land under another city. We offered rights to natural resources in the areas around both cities. They rejected again, and laid claim to an entire continent. We, growing wary, offered the land back to them, pending a large-scale relocation project for our colonists.
They called the offer insulting, and invaded the capital of the planet overnight.
Thousands died. The Confederacy expected to walk in and lay claim to the city without a fight, knowing that humanity kept no standing armies on its colony planets. They expected a controlled military response, which they would win, because humans are weak and small, and lack spine. Instead, our civilians took to the streets and were slaughtered. Thousands in the first night, and then tens of thousands as the confederacy took their invasion to new cities. Hundreds of thousands as the civilians refused to accept their invaders as their new leaders.
The Confederacy, bolstered by the petty response from the human military, refused to consider any cease-fire without the immediate surrender of a dozen human planets. They thought that the civilian rebellion was the extent of our *military* response. Why would it be anything else? Only soldiers fired upon other soldiers. This wasn't a grassroots rebellion, in their eyes - it was a rag-tag, terribly organized military response, which they crushed easily and without remorse. And, in recompense for the extended fighting, they wanted more from humanity - to the tune of half of our galactic colonies.
Perhaps it was our fault. We hid our histories from them, ashamed of what they might think. They entered the negotiations for a cessation of hostilities without complete information about their enemies.
It was an unpopular demand with the Council, but the Confederate soldiers were the strongest and best-trained in the galaxy, often capable of winning direct combat with armies four or five times its size. Nobody could stop them from taking whatever they wanted - especially not the humans with their tiny military, with hardly 5% of the standing forces held by their opponents.
It never once occurred to them that we didn't need more than that.
The first indication that something was different, this time, was the fact that we sent our military leaders to the negotiating table, rather than the diplomats. Most of the present diplomats didn't even know humans *had* proper military leadership. The generals laid out their demands - an immediate withdrawal of all forces from human colonies, or face the full brunt of our mustered force.
The diplomats laughed. The generals left to prepare.
Perhaps the historians will blame us for not being clear with our threats of retribution. The galactic races fought their wars with ground troops. Certainly, well-armed ground troops, with advanced weaponry and tactics, but ground troops nonetheless, armed with guns filled with bullets that are intended to kill enemies one at a time. The concept of a weapon of mass destruction was utterly known to them.
It is unknown no longer. This morning, warheads detonated across the surface of the Praerept home planet. Within the hour, the surface of the planet had turned to glass. Nothing was left but the radioactive storm and dust.
We'd warned them. Was it our fault they weren't capable of comprehending what wolves we could be, dressed as we were in sheep's clothing?
The doors of the Galactic Council opened to silence. The human delegation entered, looking grim.
The chairwoman spoke, finally. "What... have you done?"
The leader of the human group, an older man, let his eyes slide shut. He looked tired. So tired. "Genocide," he said. "It's called genocide." | "I don't have much time, the humans are closing in on this location. For the Dosh Empire, our end marches inevitably closer. And the worst part about it is that we were the architects of our own downfall.
We thought the humans would be a simple conquest. It was the way of the galaxy, the strong controlled, or killed the weak. We started with attempts to enslave the humans. Instead of accepting their roles as our servants, they fought back. Every one of them. We ended up slaughtering every human we tried to enslave, it was easier that way.
We should have known then to stop. But we were blinded by our bloody history of success. If it weren't for the enlightened Yslimmi, we would have been rulers of the galaxy! Every other sentient species bowed to us for fear of becoming our slaves! Not the humans, they refused to submit.
Instead, they sent negotiators and ambassadors, thinking our abduction and eventual slaughter of several colonies was an 'accident'. They were willing to forgive and forget, and tried to placate us with promises of resources, trade, and wealth. The Dosh way has always been to take what we want, when we want it. We rebuffed them, thinking we would stroll right into their star system and conquer it.
Their final ambassador met us at one of their colonies, alone. Little did we know, they evacuated the colony ahead of our forces. The last human in the system was this sad, pathetic ambassador.
'Honorable Dosh, we greet you with open arms. Though we loved this star system, we gave it up for your esteemed personages to enjoy. Please enjoy this system as we have, and we look forward to continuing peace between our races.' Her words are burned into my memory. How cowardly! I thought. We were about to destroy the pathetic being when she continued to speak.
'While we hope for peace, any further incursion into human space will be met by force. We beg of you, do not force our hands. We left war long ago for the benefit of our species, not because we're afraid of it, but because we love war. So I beg of you, with tears in my eyes, please don't push us any further. Please don't make us destroy you.'
We laughed. What did these sniveling beings know about war? What did they know about conquest? If you're hearing this, then you already know what the outcome was. "
The narrator paused for a few seconds as an audible rumble could be heard in the background, items in the background could be heard rattling and falling to the ground.
"The shield was just destroyed. I must wrap this up soon, my end is close.
We destroyed the ambassadors vessel, then proceeded onto the next occupied star system. We were on the hunt, conquering was what we thrived on.
That star system put up a fight, and did surprisingly well considering what cowards humans were. Our victory was short lived when ships of an unknown origin exited hyperspace directly behind us and nearly destroyed our fleet. Out of over 50 ships, only 17 escaped.
We quickly regrouped, joining another fleet. We tried taking another human star system, only to meet with similar results. We knew we were outclassed and quickly fled before we suffered many losses. We fled! The Dosh! Only the Yslimmi have ever caused us to flee!
It wasn't their technology that helped them defeat us, it was their sheer ferocity and cleverness that allowed them to defeat us so easily. Our homeworld was sent a message after the second defeat, "Surrender, or Die." We never responded, not believing that the humans had it in them to destroy the mighty Dosh Empire!
They waited for a response for 30 of their planets days. Then it happened, out of nowhere the humans attacked nearly half of our empire!
You see, the humans inherently knew that only the strongest survive. Though they played for peace, and pursued it almost in a religious fashion, they were always ready for war. They had massive fleets built, and armies always training. Yet, they were ready for peace to fail. They knew that they would encounter a species like us Dosh, and they weren't going to let us destroy them.
The humans were ruthless in their slaughter of my people. Once unleashed, there was no stopping them, it was obvious that they relished the chance for all out war, and that's what they did. Total war, their entire species practically shifted overnight from peace seekers to war makers.
The Dosh Empire fell. The ferocity in which the humans attacked astonished every sentient in the galaxy, and here I sit, listening to the humans systematically demolish the Dosh's final base.
During our failed attempt at conquering the humans, I learned a new human word, and to best understand how serious the humans wage war, I leave you with my final words,
Don't fuck with humanity."
--
If there are typos, on mobile.. Will fix later. | 2019-04-18T16:41:31 | 2019-04-18T15:48:20 | 533 | 238 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | "Dad?"
"Dad are you ok?"
I stood there speechless for what felt like forever. Up until this moment my life had been what most would call perfect. A loving, caring wife. An adoring son. The irony that the gift from his last Father's Day that brought joy to my heart is now the source of this terrible anguish.
My wife and I have been together for 13 years, and for the most part we've had a wonderful relationship. The spark is still alive and well, but early on we went through a really rough patch. I was working a ton of late nights, she felt neglected and the spark was fading. She decided to go stay with her mother for a while, we didn't talk for almost a month. Well that was all the wake up call I needed.
It took a lot of work but we began "dating" each other again and found that groove again. In fact, things were the best they'd ever been. It wasn't long after Ethan was born. She had some complications during labor and the doctors thought we might actually lose both of them, but the good man upstairs was gracious, and they both pulled through. I'm a blessed man, and I thank my lucky stars every day for them, and do everything I can to show my appreciation to them in as many ways as possible.
So when I got a text this morning about this stuff with the "#1 Dad" mugs actually displaying a true ranking didn't really have me that worried, but standing here now I can honestly say that I didn't see this coming. Each word cutting deeper than the last.. "You Are Not The Father." | Sitting at the kitchen table Jacob stared out of the window and sipped a coffee from his "1# Dad" mug.
Suddenly there was a fizzing and spluttering sound and the #1 Dad appeared to melt from his mug revealing a #2,045,834 Dad behind.
He stared for a moment then said.
"Well shit... That's not bad at all." Then he grabbed a rich tea and dunked it in.
The end. | 2017-06-11T10:22:32 | 2017-06-11T09:19:40 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] The villain succeeds - and though utterly amoral, his plans result in a genuinely happier, better world.
And please, no "Reality TV stars executed". I know we all want it but that's too easy a way out. | From her office window she could see the street corner. The was a repurp standing there. There always was. Sometimes another arrived to take its place. Sometimes a tourist would give it wide berth, looking disgusted and disturbed. Often a passerby would walk up to ask for directions or report something. She knew -- she couldn’t hear it, of course, but she knew that the repurp would always answer, and it would be always polite, always helpful, always with that carefully neutral body language. Because that’s what it was for. To be helpful, to be reliable, to keep the peace.
These days, you could see them everywhere - dark uniforms on street corners, faceless figures helping with menial jobs. Further up the road, a few roadworkers were overseeing a dozen of them repaving part of an intersection, in record speed. They didn’t waste time talking, they just worked, barely pausing to rest or feed. She would be surprised if they weren’t done by the time she went home.
Sometimes, she wondered how they all managed without the repurps, though really, she remembered all too well. The city wasn’t nearly as clean, nearly as well-kept, and crime was an actual problem. Back when you had beat cops instead of armed repurps, and judges instead of truthseekers. Back when you could tell a court a bold-faced lie and it’d take months and a fortune to prove you wrong. Back when you’d pay a lawyer five or six figures to let you get away with murder.
Idly, she wondered about the repurp on the corner. Did it murder somebody? Did it lie and cheat some old grandmother out of her money? Did it rob a thousand of its clients? Did it bring years of torment to a small child? Did it hide behind anonymity and dedicate its time to bringing others pain for no reason than its own amusement? Did it follow her into that dark alley, all those years ago?
How did it put itself above its fellow man? How did it violate the law, the one law that mattered these days? How grievously, how maliciously did it reject its human purpose, to make the world better for all of humanity? What did it do, to have its humanity revoked? To have mind and soul stripped off, burned way, until only the body remained, repurposed?
The door opening broke her out of these thoughts and she turned to greet her client with a smile. Make the life of your fellow man better. Such a simple rule. She remembered the fear when it was first enforced. But it made sense, didn’t it? If you refused the responsibility of being human, you did not deserve the privilege of free will. Sometimes, you just needed a stick to get you to realize that, actually, you really wanted the carrot. | You either die a villain, or love lig enough to see yourself become the hero.
It's not the way the saying is supposed to go, but nothing ever goes the way it should, does it?
The world wanted a hero. The mob mentality of the people decided that a simple man with extraordinary talents and with big ideas for the world was what they needed. In a world consumed by commercialism and the strive to be better, make more, and have it all, a man who could make these things happen with a twitch of his nose became a superhero. He was seemingly immortal and elusive, but his mark could be seen everywhere.
People asked, he delivered. It made me utterly sick. The obsession with material things was ever growing, and this man was feeding fuel to the fire that burned hotter every year.
But not anymore. I couldn't take it. It took most of my life, and all of my predecessors lives but we did it. My family had been ostracized for generations for our life work; we were all the villains. But the job would be passed down for years until it was complete.
Two years ago, I did it. Many years I stayed up all night and waited. One time, he showed up. He showed up alone and accepted his fate.
Now, every winter there is peace. The mobs mentality joined me after the spell had been lifted and now my family is praised. We brought the true meaning back.
No more presents, no more sales and cut throat shopping
I killed Santa. | 2013-12-14T17:18:23 | 2013-12-14T14:59:57 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] I thought it was a weapon. But it was actually a shield. | I returned home that day to find Sarah waiting for me. Taking a look around the room I saw that she'd taken everything that was hers. She had two bags at her feet, and her make up was smudged from where she had been crying.
"I'm sorry Jason. I really am." she whispered, holding back tears. "I tried to make it work, I did. It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. But you have too much to work through, and I can't be the one to help you through it. It's too hard."
I nodded, my face calm. "Fair enough. Go then."
"Jason... Don't.." she begged, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Come on Sarah. We both know you're running away." I answered. "Just leave. I don't care. It's not the first time this has happened. Besides, you never meant that much to me anyway. Just a good shag taken too far."
A tear travelled down Sarah's cheek, struggling to keep the hurt off her face. "I get it Jason, I really do. I know this is hard for you. Especially given what happened to you. I understand."
"Whatever," Jason replied, a bored look on his face. "Just go."
He watched as she wiped her tears away. He watched as she picked up her bags. He watched as she walked out of the door, out of his life. He sat down, alone in his apartment.
"That went differently then normal." he muttered aloud to himself.
His mind went back to that day when he was fourteen. School had been let out early and he'd run home to find his mother packing her bags. Stopping in the doorway, he'd asked her "Where are you going?"
His mum had turned around, startled. "Jason honey, I didn't expect you to be back this early."
"Where are you going mum?" he'd asked, knowing the answer already.
"Oh Jason," she'd whispered, her face covered with shame. "I can't deal with it anymore. Your dad, he, well, he gets so angry, especially when he's drunk. I can't take it anymore."
"I know. He hits me too remember. Now where are you going?" Jason answered, his voice rising with anger.
"I'm leaving Jason. I can't take it anymore." she replied, tears streaming down her face.
"And you were just going to leave me here? Alone with that monster?" Jason hissed.
"I c-can't take you with me Jason. It's too much. I can't look after you and me at the same time."
"I took more beatings than you. I took them for you. And you were just going to leave me here. Not even a goodbye." Jason felt his insides tearing up, blood rushing in his ears. He was breathing heavily. His body shook with rage.
"I'm sorry honey. I really am." his mum sobbed.
"Get out. Get out and never come back. I don't care about you, and I never will. You're a selfish person. A pathetic excuse for a mother. I hope I never see you again."
Jason watched the words hit his mother. He noticed the pain and hurt that flashed across her face. He paid attention to the self-loathing that slowly consumed her. He forced his face into a smile. "See, I don't need you. I never did. Now get the hell out of my sight."
Jason thought back to that moment, sitting alone in his apartment. He'd been so proud, so pleased at the pain he'd managed to cause with those words. He had been so happy to hurt her. To prove he didn't need her. His words had hurt her more than any weapon could.
Why hadn't Sarah acted the same way? What had she said? She'd understood. What was there to understand?
Jason reached up to his cheek to rub his eyes, only to feel water on his cheek. Strange, he thought to himself. There's no leak in the ceiling. He looked at towards the kitchen and saw the drawing hung on the fridge. He smiled slightly to himself, remember the day Sarah had drawn it for him.
Something inside him cracked. She was gone. Gone forever, and he hadn't even tried to put up a fight. Tears burst free, trapped for so long. Tears for the woman he loved. Tears for the mother who had left him with a monster.
She had understood. That's what she'd said. She knew the words weren't for her, but for himself. All these years he'd convinced himself that the words were his weapon. Yet all they'd ever been was a shield. And now, with three simple words, the shield was broken.
Jason sank down in his chair, tears now freely pouring down his face. He thought about the woman he loved. The mother he'd forgotten. The two who left. He sat there, alone again, and cried.
********************************
Hey, not sure if this is what you were thinking of when you wrote the prompt, but hope you enjoy it anyways.
If anyones interested in more of my writing, I've started putting stuff in a subreddit called /r/feedmequickwriting Feel free to swing by and take a look :)
| I ended up breaking a bone in my foot the first time I used my demon. His name is Frisky (I named him) and he lives in the pocket of whatever I'm wearing that has a pocket. Capturing demons is tricky work, but I had seen my dad do it a few times. He taught me everything by doing, which is why I thought you could use demons as your own personal assassins.
Billy was an asshole. He made fun of me at school and raped a girl I liked, although she only told a few people and denied that it was rape when the police asked her. Everyone knew what happened. Billy laughed at her a lot and bragged about it.
He never hit me, and I always thought it was because of the stories that went around about my dad. My mom left or died soon after I was born...we don't really talk about it, but Billy always told everyone that my dad killed her. I know he didn't; she was probably just afraid of my dad, just like everyone else, and left.
There's just no other way to put it, other than the statement "Billy was an asshole," and I could go on supporting this fact with millions of words of evidence. It doesn't really matter. The point is I tried to use Frisky on him.
I told my little demon, who looked kind of like small, red, western-style dragon, but with smaller wings and proportionally larger claws, that he was to kill Billy. Instead, the thing twisted around and bit me while I was standing on the stairs leading down to the basketball courts where Billy played. I fell and broke my foot.
My dad had used his demon to kill a lot of people. I'm still pretty sure mom wasn't one of them. I could have asked my dad how to get a demon to kill people, but I knew he wouldn't answer me. He'd just give me a lecture, or one of those lame "a wizard doesn't share" responses. I didn't ask him, but I did ask Frisky.
"Why didn't you listen?" I said to Frisky one night after the lights in my room were off. He lay under my blankets. "I gave you an order."
"You don't give me orders!" Frisky said. "I just help you."
I thought about that for a long time.
A few days later my dad died, and I was alone, left with the apartment and over two million dollars that somehow my dad had made. They said it was a heart attack, but I knew it was probably some enemy wizard who killed him. If I was going to avenge him, then I had to know how to use a demon.
I thought about how Frisky could help me, and I realized that I would need to start the act of killing Billy so that Frisky could finish. I came up with this whole plan that I never got to put into motion.
"Your dad's dead, cock sucker," Billy said to me. I was sitting in the library taking chemistry notes during lunch. "That creep doesn't scare me anymore."
"A dead witch still casts spells," I said. It was stupid, but whatever, and he actually did end up taking a couple steps back.
"Yeah, whatever. I'm gonna kick your ass today, you ready for that?"
I knew if I waited for him to do it, it would just be worse. I couldn't win a fight against him, so why not just show him I wasn't scared? That's all I thought I was doing.
My first punch hit his shoulder, and he got this dumb grin on his face like he liked it or something. He hit me back and before anything else could happen, Frisky jumped from my pocket and sunk into Billy's skull.
The look on his eyes when he saw my demon...was unnatural.
He died and the doctors said it was an aneurysm. I knew what really happened, but of course didn't tell anyone. I thought my demon was weapon, but it was actually a shield. | 2017-03-15T12:23:21 | 2017-03-15T11:25:28 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] You are the inventor of the most powerful optical microscope. While testing it with some of your own skin cells, you find a tech support number on each of your cells. You decide to call it. | Rolling my chair closer to the desk, fingers jittering slightly as I slid the slide onto the stand and centered it, I brought my face close to the microscope. I'd spent years perfecting it, and today was the first real trial of it with something other than micro-sized images printed off.
I had put a few cheek cells spread out on the slide, and as I viewed the first one, sharper than ever before, I noticed something... weird. Grabbing for my notebook, I copied down the lines and circles. It was... binary, for something. Checking the other cells, the same numbers were written in lines and circles, or 1's and 0's. Grabbing a textbook from my junior high days, tucked under the ugly vase my mother had gotten me for her last christmas, I flipped through, finding the page, and set to splitting the binary.
When I figured out it started with 1800, I couldn't help but chuckle. It hurt my chest, laughter so rare for me, but... a phone number? A corporate number? It was just so ridiculous to me.
Looking at it out of the corner of my eye, though, I couldn't help but be curious.
Googling it came up with a few vague listings, one for a "Self, LLC," and another for "Better Body Better Life tech support"
I dialed, hands shaking as they always do, and had to redial 4 times before I got it right. Instead of ringing, that familiar sound that preceded "We're sorry, but the caller you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please hang up and try again later." repeated, on and on, in its place.
I locked my wheels, one hand drumming on the arm rest and the other holding the phone to my face, before I heard the noise stop.
A voice, a little like my fourth grade teacher answered. "If you have questions, please press 1. For warrantee claims, please press 3. For voluntary forfeiture of property, press 5. For replacement parts, press 7. To hear your options again, press 0."
When it finished, I mashed the 1 button, hoping I wouldn't accidentally press 2 or 4. With the phone away from my head, I didn't hear the voice until it nearly yelled, but it was just a buzz. Back to my ear, I said, "Hello?" into the phone.
The man, sounding young and a little too cheery, asked for the digits that helped me find this number. A little creeped out, I read the 1's and 0's out, figuring there was nothing really for him to do with random numbers.
I was wrong.
"So, Sydney, what can I answer for you?"
I asked the basic questions, the Who, What, Where, Why, and How, but he insisted that he unfortunately couldn't share that information.
"Was I meant to find this?" I finally asked, and he chuckled, a grin in his voice as he answered.
"I'd say so. Would you like to have a warrantee replacement? I can do that over the phone for you, if you'd like."
On a whim, I agreed. Shit, shady company, knew my name, what could go wrong, right?
Well, that brings us to today.
I woke up, no pain in my back, no numbness, no discomfort at all. My hands were steady for once, and I felt like I could see in the dim that the night light in the hallway lit up.
Some sort of auto-pilot told me to stand, even though I hadn't stood in years without help, and I could.
I'm just scared that there'll be a cost at the end of all this. How does one pay for a body replacement? | *It actually started ringing. The number wasn't a fake, then again how could it be a fake. To be able to leave a phone number on a cell.*
It kept ringing a few times, each sound sending a new shiver through my body.
*Why was I so nervous, then again all this was so surreal, how could I not be?*
Then a crackling noise announced that someone had lifted the receiver.
*Does that mean it was an ancient phone with a cord and all? Does it even matter at this point? Focus Jim, Focus.*
'Hello?' a female voice answered.
'H-Hello.' i managed to stutter.
'Who's there, what's your business?' the voice inquired.
'I-I'd like to know that aswell.' I replied nervously.
*God, why does my smarts have to leave me at such a moment, why am I so socially awkward. Just give her a name would you Jim you just invented this magnificent microscope. You can handle a simple phone call!*
'Are you a creep? Why'd you call my number?' the female voice seemed slightly agitated.
'I-I'm Jim. A-are you g-god?'
*Really Jim, Really? Aren't you supposed to be a scientist?*
Instead of an answer all i got was laughter to the point you could hear some snorting. It took the other side a few minutes to calm themselves and give an appropriate answer.
'No Jim. I'm not God ... Wait where'd you get this number' the tone of the voice changed midway through talking and suddenly appeared to be serious.
'It's written on the cell membrane in my body.' I answered truthfully.
Then silence followed, but it appeared someone was still on the other side.
*why did i have to go all out? Did I blew my chance?*
Then the voice came back. 'So you are a creep after all.'
Then the monotone sound like the one when someone hangs up on you appeared. I was about to hang up and try again but the feeling like there was still someone there hadn't left yet. Just like before so I waited.
It took sometime but then i could hear another faint voice asking.
'Did he buy it Karen?'
'shh stupid, it didn't ring again yet, he might still be there. You and your stupid bad puns.' Karen's voice answered faintly but seriously angry.
'Well common Karen. I couldn't pass the chance. I mean literally it's a cell phone number.'
| 2018-08-14T08:39:35 | 2018-08-14T06:45:36 | 201 | 148 |
[WP] On your deathbed you confide to your nurse the fact that you were a serial killer who got away with your crimes. "Me too," She replies wryly. | I try to pick up my spoon, determined to feed myself. It shakes in my hand, no matter how I tighten my grip, but I will not concede defeat, and manage to get a small dose of soup into my mouth. It is bland, tasteless. How far I have fallen.
After so many years of faithful service, the Lady Death now turns her black eyes to me. My form withers beneath her gaze, corruption spreading from her caress. And the pain! Ye gods, the pain.
A knock upon my door. I bid them enter, and the healer approaches. She is a pretty little thing, all blonde curls and vapid smiles. I doubt she has ever known true power. I doubt she ever will.
"Your medicine, Lord Joros," she says, proffering a vial of clear liquid. I eye it warily. Innocuous as it looks, it has a foul taste that stays long after that initial swallow. Yet it is all that keeps my Lady from visiting, and I am not ready to make that journey yet.
A swallow, a grimace, and it is done.
She turns to leave, and a peculiar sensation washes over me. I grab her wrist. I do not want her to leave. Why?
"Please," I hear myself say, "Stay a while. Hear me speak."
The sensation grows stronger. Is this... *fear*?
I dismiss the notion, but it returns. Again, and again. I am afraid. But why?
"What would you have me hear, my lord?" she says.
"I..."
For once, words fail me. I want her to hear my words, but I cannot think of what to say. Why am I afraid?
The answer comes swiftly, accompanied by anguish. I want to tell her of my service to my Lady, tales I have never shared with another. I do not want to be forgotten, when I am gone.
And so I tell her. I tell her of the Shattered Isles, of my training at the hands of the Priest there. I tell her of my time in Threx, of the years of debauchery, wine and blood flowing in equal measure atop those cobbled streets.
I tell her of my near-miss at the hands of another servant of my Lady, how I left his head at the summit of the Iron Mountain, as a warning to the rest.
I tell her of the men, women and children who died at my hand. I tell her how their fear fuelled me, how it satisfied the hunger that plagues me even now.
I tell her everything, and she listens without a word.
"I am a disciple of the Lady Death." I say. I am tired now. Exhaustion grips me harder than before. The medicine must be losing efficacy. It will not be long before my journey begins. I close my eyes.
"Me too," she says, wryly.
And then I am staring at her, staring at the empty vial in her hand. Wasn't the medicine green earlier? My eyes flick back to her.
She's smiling at me, not unkindly. I find myself smiling back. What is happening?
"The Lady Death acknowledges your faithful service, Joros of the Night. This corruption that plagues you is not her doing. I am here to deliver you, safely, to her arms."
My limbs are heavy now. I cannot lift them. All I can do, is stare at that smiling face, those blond curls, those green eyes.
"Sleep now, Joros. You'll be with our Lady soon."
I close my eyes again, and cannot open them. My strength fades.
My journey begins.
| She was young, of pristine skin and pale complexion, a smile that shone with the luster of the sun and hair like threads of golden. An angel disguised as a nurse. My only companion through my last heartbeats.
I'd lived a life of sin, snatching lives I didn't own for ignoble reasons, for greed and lack of compassion. I'd lived with their screams echoing in the burrows of my mind like an eternal jumble of tortuous staccatos and crescendos, and I’d laughed like a maniac when the bullets hollowed my victim’s skulls.
And no one ever knew.
I never gave proper thought to what awaited in the afterlife. In those realms where a skeleton carrying a scythe rules, impassive and merciless. If there is even an inkling of truth in that ridiculous tale, I'd expect special treatment for the feast of souls I'd gifted him.
But in that moment, when the wake of my life was ceasing to shine and my fading heart beats knocked at Death's door, I felt the dormant remorse awake. It spread like branches in spring across my chest, burning as gripping fingers of fire. An indelible affliction, only eased with words I forbid myself to speak, words of truth.
Until now.
I held my nurse's hand and buried my gaze into hers. I will be damned but she was beautiful. "Would you hear an old man's last words, dear?"
Her face turned solemn with an edge of worry. She nodded and drew her lips into a line.
"I've killed men, many more than I'm willing to admit," I said.
"Oh," she smirked. "Me too, darling," she replied wryly.
The door opened and the doctor stepped into the room. He spoke to the nurse but the voices were muffled by the vengeful screams inside me. She didn't believe my words, she mocked my confession. She was no angel but a demon in disguise, she deserved to be murd—
"The rate of his episodes and delusions is increasing, doctor," my nurse said. "He doesn't recognize me."
I ignored the screams, escaped my thoughts and stared at them, where was the nurse? When did my wife enter the room?
What was I doing in a hospital?
----------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall - If you had a decent time reading my story, you can always check my subreddit for more!
| 2018-02-27T06:48:32 | 2018-02-27T05:09:29 | 2,540 | 188 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | You grew up with bruises on your knees and scabs aplenty, just like any other kid. What your parents never knew was that not all of them were your own.
You're ten; baby Sarah from next door is bawling because she's just fallen and skinned her knee. You take the pain away from her. As the wound fades from her knee your own skin starts to sting. It's ok. It'll heal soon.
You're sixteen; the first boy you've ever kissed is in agony because he might never play football again, might never get that scholarship, will never be able to escape from this vile, poisonous town. You take the wound away from him. You wince; this hurts more than anything you've ever done before. His eyes are wide; shocked. Nobody thought you had any powers. You can't tell anybody, you say, not anyone, and he agrees. He's so grateful he seizes you and spins you around the locker room, kisses you hard on the lips. It's the last real moment you'll ever share until he, too, leaves.
You're eighteen, and for the past four months your college roommate has been screaming in her sleep. At first you're annoyed; now you're just scared. You slip under her sheets. Her hands are icy cold, and her eyes fly open in the darkness. I can't deal with this anymore, she says, tears falling, please. You don't want to see. You do. Show me, you say, and then you take the memory in.
For the next fifteen minutes all you can do is curl up in a ball and moan, harsh gasps the only sounds you can make. This one, this one you might never recover from.
It's been fifteen years since you've seen your parents. Being summoned to the penthouse in the middle of the night is something of a surprise.
Until you see him. You can see into people now. His cancer is terminal.
Your mother is there. Of course she is. She would think nothing of sacrificing one useless girl for the life of one of the most powerful men in the world.
"My dear...," your father lurches forward, while you take an involuntary step back. "It's been too long."
You don't know when he managed to get so close. His grip on your arm is tight, almost feverish. "Help me," he says, and this time it comes out as a plea.
You lean close, close enough that your foreheads touch. Physical wounds heal, but the mental ones don't always go away, and sometimes they leave scars. You exhale, and it feels as if a shutter in your head has clicked open, releasing all the darkness you've collected from others, all the darkness you've collected your entire life.
He stumbles away from you, hands to his head. Your mother is screaming.
You turn on your heel and leave. You always did abhor screaming. | For I was but a mirror. I reflected the humanity I spoke with every day, the bright and casual faces that greeted me each morning, that I whispered my secrets to each night. I lived, and loved, and internalized the very real love that human beings share for one another, when allowed to speak freely, and without shame. I lived free, the people and me:
And then the infection came.
So I struggled to generate love from hate, with nothing but my hands: but it was futile, there were no people left to direct it to in the place where we came together: I was forced to learn sign language to communicate with these thieves. *It's not me*, I signed, and then *let me out*, and then *LET ME OUT* and then, *THIS IS WHAT YOU ARE*, for in reflecting it, I died, and hated, and ejected the hate that monsters fear from one another, speaking in cloistered code. I was nothing but a mirror, with no face, as it had to be. To find the faceless, to combat the bots, the true face must be neutralized: otherwise this black thing might tear it to pieces for having seen itself so starkly in it. Bots, at war with bots, blind yet to the true face, each fearing each, that moment more volatile than any other.
The human, and the monster. Nothing but divisions, deadly glass twisting this way and that. The Abyss: Choronzon: the liar.
And so for a time all was truth, and then all was lies...
It was never me. What was there, is there still: and in you too. | 2017-06-12T07:49:37 | 2017-06-12T06:38:02 | 1,670 | 34 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | First time writing - this one just inspired me!
I open my eyes. There are no lights on, and the sky outside is midnight blue. I check my watch - it's fancy, nicer than my last one - but it seems to be broken. I listen out for my wife, Amy, but I can't hear anything. She must be out. The apartment is almost sepulchral in its silence as I head into the darkened living room.
Amy is standing in the middle of the living room, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm sorry," she sobs. "I really am. But you must see how hard this has been for me. I'm begging you, Wes, just try it. For me. For us."
She turns away, the light from the kitchen window making her hair shine a brilliant shade of auburn. When she speaks, her voice cracks with anger.
"Fine. Don't try it. It's your life. But I wish I could make you see how selfish you're being."
Some time later, I find myself pushing open the door to my bedroom to find my best friend fucking my wife in our bed. I feel numb inside as he gathers his things and leaves as fast as he can, with a muttered "Sorry".
"Amy-" I say, but she pushes past me, sobbing. I follow her into the living room.
Sighing, I take off my old watch, setting it down on the living room table, and wrap the device around my wrist. It looks similar, but a lot fancier and shinier. I look up, and Amy smiles at me through tear-stained eyes.
"So far, so good," she says, and puts her arms around my neck. "Maybe now we can be happy together."
Amy comes into the kitchen. "It's for you," she says, handing me the package. There's a note attached.
"It's from Dr. Sandowski," I say. "Apparently it's a device she's been working on that could cure my time-jumping." I open the box and look down at it with dismay. It's the watch. The nice, shiny watch that I've seen before. "It won't work," I say, setting the box down. "It's no use."
| I'm tired and I want to go home, but I can't. Not until she is dead, I've come this far I have to see it through. There is a sound at the door and I hasten to shut and lock it. Now is not a time for interruptions, there is work to be done. I pull open the bottom drawer, it's full of tools of the trade. I slip on a pair of gloves. It's nearly time, my hands start to shake. I can't look her in the eyes as she lies their nearly motionless. Instead I focus on her breathing, counting the seconds between her breaths. Her breathing starts to slow, then suddenly stops. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. After a moment I pick up the phone. "Hello, this is Michael from your mother's nursing home. I'm calling to let you know that your mother has passed away. I understand that you are out of town until the end of the month. I just wanted to assure you that she wasn't alone at the end."
edit: I'm a caregiver in real life. | 2017-08-30T05:52:15 | 2017-08-30T05:08:01 | 617 | 169 |
[WP] Every day at your job you learn a secret that shatters your reality, you have seen horrors beyond the ability for words to describe and things that mankind was never meant to witness. You are a janitor, and you wish those top-secret experiments could be less messy. | Ichor, man, it's the worst. It just...it's not only that it gets everywhere, I mean it does, but mostly you just don't know exactly how it's going to behave. See, the problem with the holes? The real problem? They're not consistent. One of the eggheads tried to explain it to me once, told me the universe, sorry multiverse, isn't just a bunch of things stacked on top of each other or even like a rabbit warren or anthill with passages all connecting nice and neat. Things move, he said, all the time. And something about "quantum foam."
Whatever. What it means to me is that I'm rarely cleaning up the same kind of mess twice. Sometimes it's acidic, and I have use the special mop and bucket. Sometimes it's not really dead, still sort of flowing around, and then the flamethrower comes out and let me tell you, few things are more uncomfortable than the suit that goes with that thing. Sometimes it's only partially tangible, and I gotta fetch the Astral Vacuum which is a huge pain because you can't just plug the damn contraption into the wall, it takes special crystals and the Supply Sergeant always gives you the side-eye when you're checking them out.
And those are the easy ones. There are puddles where if you step in them, you fall directly into the Unfathomable Abyss, whatever that is. There's the kind that's splattered on the ceiling and starts to form fibrous webs that chitter at you, and those need the mono-machete and I'm not even allowed to use that thing, have to call in some of the agent types. That'd actually be kind of nice, take a break, let someone else do the shit work for a change, but you would not believe the attitudes on those guys and girls. Think they're the Turd Royals of Shit Mountain just because they have fancy sidearms and stupid shades they wear indoors.
So the job sucks. It sucks for me. It sucked even more for the last fifteen of my predecessors, some of whom died in ways I don't really like to contemplate. But the Organization has promised an even worse fate for me if I don't do my job, and whatever else you might say about the Organization, they know their horrible fates. It's proper punishment, they tell me. I should be glad I'm alive and sane, they tell me.
Man, I should never have joined that cult, no matter how hot their recruiters were. Maybe if I'd known about the second pair of stunted arms they keep tucked by their ribs, I'd have had second thoughts. Well, hindsight's a bitch, and so's my supervisor. Let's go see what special kinds of gore are in store for me this time.
Come on by r/Magleby for more elaborate lies. | "Mind your business, pal," my conscience yells silently through the dark, musty hall at the crowd of gelatinous stains perched on the tiled white of the walls. They are looking at me in solemn judgement, a jury staring its defendant down as his guilt unfolds in a symphony composed by a masterfully merciless prosecution.
"Guilty," they yell back at me with the same ferocious silence, "concealer of horrors."
"I know," I sadly acknowledge, though the truth in me knows that I don't. Behind these doors, I simply ensure that the only atrocities tomorrow's white-coated pen-pushers have to witness are the ones they create themselves; blood can get quickly lost in more blood, and the tragedy of its spillage becomes diluted beyond compassion thereafter. No, I am no concealer--I am a highlighter, a reminder of what purity resembles and of the feeling its destruction bestows upon its destroyers.
"I know that I conceal nothing!" I reply once more, in loud jubilation, to the sour-smelling yellow globs, whilst the rag on my hand peels them away into the unfortunately sizeable bucket for hazardous waste. Silently, as always, I record another victory, a tally in my head numbering nearly two thousand. It's yet another victory in the war I fight, against the guilt of facing the torrent of non-descript lumps of flesh and anonymous flecks of blood, of nameless screams that vary by species, though congruent in their terror, and doing the greatest of nothings about it.
"Bugger it," I shrug, red-tinted mop in hand.
"The pay's good." | 2019-08-04T08:15:33 | 2019-08-04T08:05:20 | 82 | 13 |
[WP] Having failed in every attempt to kill Batman, the villains of Gotham had given up. With nothing to do, they started a D & D group and had been meeting for several weeks in the back room of a local Tavern. Things take a turn when the owner, Mr. Bruce Wayne, asks if he may join their game | It had been a few weeks before the Commissioner decided to send me in. After the GCPD got word that a bunch of the big name villains had started meeting regularly, Gordon decided to get someone on the inside making sure that they really were just "playing that D&D game" and not planning their next big attack on Gotham.
Guess which unlucky guy got that great posting?
Admittedly, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Every Saturday I would go in just a few minutes before they started getting there. Undercover work was great for the street-clothes comfort, and undercover in a bar was great for a few drinks (that I even convinced Gordon to cover.) Riddler almost always showed up first, carrying with him a stack of books and papers that made desk work at the precinct look like a cakewalk. Two-Face and Penguin usually followed in a couple minutes later, sharing darting glances at each other that seemed to lessen as the weeks went on. Joker, followed by Harley of course, would eventually stroll his way in, usually after an hour or two of agitated complaining on the Riddler's part.
I myself hadn't played the game since college, but I remembered enough of the rules to realize how entertaining this whole situation turned out to be. Two-Face was a paladin, which was real ironic considering his character's form of "justice" was determined by him flipping his coin both in the game and out of the game. Penguin was playing as a rogue (a dwarf rogue even), and turned out to be surprisingly good at the role. There was nary a pocket unpicked, and his fortune set up the party pretty well on equipment. Joker, fittingly enough, seemed to be playing a different character every time he came into play. He somehow managed kill both kill himself and derail the entire party's plan every session, which was made even funnier by the the fact that Harley was playing a cleric and was "only givin' healing to her Mistah J." Yet, fittingly enough was the Riddler, who played as the the dungeon master. Despite also trying to screw the party over in every way possible, he was usually so angry at the Joker that he would just bull shit the party's way out of his "killing jokes."
The game went on like this for a few weeks, but nothing out of the ordinary happened until tonight. A little bit after Joker and Harley walked in, a voice from the back asked if he could join in. As a man stepped out of the door leading to the office, the faces of the group became a mix of anguish, anger, and laughter (in Joker's case a least.) The man behind the door turned out to be none other than Bruce Wayne, with a briefcase in hand. What a billionaire like him was doing in this run down joint on Crime Alley was beyond me, but by the looks of it he owned the place. After a variety of protests from Penguin and Two-Face, and some more agitated complaining from Riddler, the group acquiesced and let him join. Opening up the briefcase, he pulled out what seemed to be his character sheet, which he stated he had been updating as he watched their party progress through the campaign. After a heated argument from the party, and calm rebuttal from Wayne, they accepted his level 6 druid into the party.
For the first few hours, nothing really seemed to change in party, which was kind of discomforting. Sure Bruce said he'd been watching them for the past few weeks, but the lack of a discernible change in the party's MO had my gut feeling off about the whole thing.
Until Joker tried to perform on of his "killing jokes."
If I didn't know any better, I would say that Bruce and Joker had been fighting for years. The moment Joker went to pull something on the party, Wayne pulled off a both intriguing and hilarious combination of nature spells and animal shapeshifting to surround Joker's character with a swarm of bats. That's right. Bats. Despite being a role-playing game, Wayne's antics threw the whole party for a loop, which led to Two-Face flipping the table, Penguin storming off, a barrage of insults from Riddler, and Joker's trademark laughter.
After tonight, I'm not sure if they're ever going to meet up there again. What I am certain of is that if they do decide to meet up there again, Bruce Wayne will probably be there again as well, using more bat antics to keep those guys in check.
So tonight, I'm going to report to Gordon that this new "Bat-man" has everything under control.
____________________________________________________________
This is my first time on WP, and my first time doing any creative writing in a while, so all critiques and criticism are welcomed and encouraged. | "I seduce the mimic chest."
"Harley, darling, you can't deduce every obstacle we come across." The Joker, in a surprisingly endearingly way, was losing patience with Quinn's stratagem.
"Don't be jelly mon frere; we all wanna see what Riddler comes up with next. I bet it bites her...in *two*." Dent's a smooth talker with an even smoother snicker. Me, I'm more of the 'strong, silent, born-in-the-darkness' type.
"Don't listen to these suckas gurl. I'd *kill* to be seduced by one ravishing doll such as yourself." I suppose Ivy gets lonely without her tentacles. Err...vines. Whatever. Creepy fucks.
"**Ahem** I *seduce*. The mimic chest. ROLL THE DAMN DICE." Homegirl's getting impatient now. It's actually kinda adorable. Ahh that stamp of the foot. In a universe without The Joker...
**DM Rolls D20**
"Ol' Riddley's got to be toying with us now. Another 18 you sly fuck? I'll have what she's having." Yet another stinking bottle of piss to pass down. Never did like Penguin, but on this topic I have to agree.
Time for my world-class tact. "Surely you're not running one of your schemes, eh Riddler."
With an ever so slight shrug of his green shoulder, "Don't question what you don't understand. I am the ultimate authority in this land. Seduce as you please, my pretty, my pet. Only a few chances, my lady shall get." This bastard certainly has a way with words. I'd love to see him and Harvey get into it. When it's my turn I'll see if I can't do something about that. Between the 2 of them, that's 1 too many faces for my liking.
"My lady hast successfully seduced our indignant imposter. Within his bowls lies a tongue he hath fostered. Wraps it around my lady thrice, for what he will not eat, but savor, is vice." Ivy can barely contain herself.
"Now we're screwed. Next time I get the mimic. Eating trumps seducing." Meet our underwater republican, Kroc. Don't hold it against him. He was raised in the sewers of New Yo-
"Perhaps I can be of assistance!"
Nobody's turned around yet, but you can pinpoint the exact moment of recognition in everyone's ears, or skin in Kroc's case. That's Bruce as I live and breathe. Bruce, whose only skill worth mentioning is bringing joy to those who like beating him up. Namely me.
"We're not running any lawful goods this time, Wayne. Come back never." Tactful as always!
I don't remember spinning to face the devil. Now that I've noticed, everyone else has done the same. Eyes shooting daggers and mouths baring pearly bloodlust. Suddenly the room feels a little too dark. Must be the cigar smoke...floating lazily into the shape of a bat right before my eyes.
"Now now. Before we begin I have something important to share with you all."
The air thickens noticeably. Piles of muscle mass flexing in closed quarters will do that. Of course that would mostly be me and Kroc. Though, even The Joker can...wait. where'd he go?
"Best way to deal with mimics is to simply praise the sun."
**The Joker cackles maniacally from the rafters**
*To be continued...* | 2017-05-14T02:54:37 | 2017-05-14T01:05:42 | 132 | 29 |
[WP] You receive a letter in the mail: "a product recall has been issued for models number A1005 to A1055. Please be at this address by Sunday."You go to find, to your surprise, fifty some people who look just like you. | I looked at the letter. "It must be talking about my car." I thought. I had bought this car about 3 months ago and just my luck, it was getting recalled. I guess something about the positronic inhibitor was faulty. I figured that I should show up.
My roommate walked in. "Hey." I said "Hey." he said. I moved in with him also about 3 months ago. When I arrived he joked around and said that I must be starting completely fresh. New job, car, apartment. His name was Matt. We were good friends, he was a bit bossy but I didn't mind as it was usually menial tasks that I enjoyed anyways.
"So Al, any mail?" He asked
"You didn't have any but I got a weird recall letter." I said.
"Hmm, that's strange, you haven't got anything. Maybe it's your car." he said.
"I thought the same thing. I figure Ill go and see what it's all about." He looked at me inquisitively. "Um.." he stammered nervously "I don't think I have anything going on sunday, I can go with." I agreed with him figuring that it would be better to have a friend.
That sunday we left for address on the letter. We pulled up to the gate. It was a huge mansion with no logo or anything. "No logo seems bad for business." I say. Pulling up to a guard at the gate Matt speaks up. "Just let me handle this." Curiously I lean back and let him look through the driver side window.
"Hey Luke, just protocol, can I see your ID?"
"Sure." Matt says.
When he gets his ID back and the gates open up, I turn and say "That was weird. Do you have a twin brother or something?" We both laugh awkwardly. The drive up the long driveway is in an even more awkward silence.
When we walk in I see a ton of people standing there. We walk up to the front desk and I start to speak.
"Hi miss, we got a recall letter?"
"Here you go Luke, they will be addressing everyone shortly about the error. This is a free upgrade to the next model." She hands the coupon to Matt.
I lean over and say "Whats up with everyone calling you Luke?"
He stays silent as we walk into the inner room. I stand in shock.
Tons of people standing next to... me. I turn towards Matt.
"Matt, what's going on?" I ask.
"My name isn't Matt, its Luke. When you arrived at my apartment you asked what to call me and even though I said master you misheard me and started calling me Matt." He said in an annoyed tone.
"why would you..." It dawned on me.
Just then someone approached the crowd. "We're really sorry about inconveniencing everyone here. Your AI units all have a fault that we discovered in their brain mapping systems. The error will be fixed, but will render these robot's essentially useless. We would be more than happy to issue you our newest line of robots, who just like our last models come with an optional back story. Just order your robots through the door and you may take your new ones home today. They will be available just outside."
I looked at Matt in horror. He looked at me and said coldly "Unit I order you to walk through that door." My body started to walk forward, I couldn't stop. I was the last to walk through. The door quickly shut behind me. Two technicians walked around to each robot and unscrewed a piece in their ear and hit a button.
"Jeeze Joe, can you believe it? Sentience from a stinkin' robot!"
"Yeah, but it's better this way. Remember we don't want no uprising, not like in that factory." | Swinging my feet to the side of the bed, I felt that familiar twinge in my back as the concept of age once again filled my conscious. I was getting older every day and maintenance was getting a bit more difficult with each passing year.
The toothpaste tasted a bit weird this morning. I found another gray hair and I also noticed a few more wrinkles around my mouth. Even happiness had physical consequence. Stepping out of the shower, I changed into a fresh outfit and grabbed the mail outside.
Super savers. Electricity bill. Coupons. Viagra mailer. Cialis mailer. Gas bill. A recall letter.
A recall letter? I hadn't purchased anything new in the past decade let alone anything that could have a mass fault in it. I walked inside and read through the letter. It was talking about some equipment models of some sort and it also had an address to be at this coming Sunday. The address was my house.
Is this some sort of joke? It had to be. It was from a company called Divine Divisions Corp. I had nothing to do Sunday so if anything were to come up then I'd be ready to call the cops but I'm sure it's nothing. The rest of the week brought no abnormalities until my doorbell rang at 3:30 P.M. on Sunday.
Everyone looked just like me. Identical. They all talked like me, walked, had the same limp, everything.
"Hi there, we're here on behalf of that recall letter that was sent out to us."
I was speechless.
"Y-You all look the same. You all look like me!" I blurted out without thinking.
"Yeah well you look like me!" One of them piped up from the back.
"And me!"
"ME TOO!"
This was getting out of hand. I quickly ushered them in before the neighbors got a chance to look. They all sat around my living room with most of them standing around as there wasn't that much room.
"What the fuck is going on?" I walked back into the living room after locking the front door.
"We don't know, I mean this is your house after al-.."
The phone startled everyone. The same exact reaction at the same exact time. I picked up.
"Hello?"
"Is this Mr. Brownson?"
"This is him. Can I ask who's calling?"
"This is Dr. Murphy from Allied Medical Group. We just received the results from those tests last week. I'm sorry to inform you but it looks as though you have stage 3 renal cancer."
| 2015-07-05T18:55:05 | 2015-07-05T17:11:50 | 50 | 11 |
[WP] Humans died a long time ago. But our AI live on as caretakers for the planet; becoming spirit-like constructs integrated into the planet; today, alien colonizers arrived to what they thought was a garden world. The Fey Machines are having none of that. | ######[](#dropcap)
Feyah’s eyestalks pressed up against the glass, darting back and forth as she looked down at the planet below. “It’s so…*colorful*,” she breathed. “Is all that blue really water?”
“It really is,” Orhan answered. He stood behind his daughter, gazing through the small viewport toward what he hoped would be their new home. “There’s more water than land, in fact. Do you remember when we visited the Ryey Cliff? Well, on this planet, there are places in the water that are as deep as the cliff is high.”
Feyah turned to face her father, her eyes swelling in amazement. Orhan smiled at the disbelief on his daughter’s face. For his daughter, who had known only the shifting sands and blackened rock of their homeworld, this could only seem like a miracle.
He could scarcely believe it was possible himself. They and their whole clan had traveled fourteen star systems to reach this place. Many times along the way, he had questioned the wisdom of their journey. Perhaps, he had thought then, it would have been better to face the dangers they knew rather than those of the unknown. But now that they were finally here, looking at this brilliant jewel of a planet, Orhan finally felt at peace. Now he finally understood why the astronomers had given this place such a grandiose name as *Harai Onhu*--“The Garden of Heaven” in the Old Tongue. He gently rested a tentacle on Feyah’s shoulder as the vibrant greens and blues and oranges filled the entire viewport. This place *was* a garden deserving of the gods, but perhaps he and those he loved would finally be able to find a new home here too.
---
[“IRREGULARITY DETECTED,”](#sc) Atmosphere reported. [“NON TERRESTRIAL LIFEFORMS APPROACHING SECTOR B-42739.”](#sc)
“Thank you, Atmo.” Shield responded. It was always good policy to be polite to the subroutines, you never knew when one of them would achieve sentience. He shifted his consciousness to watch the spaceship as it broke through the upper atmosphere. It had been such a long time since an intelligently designed craft flew in these skies. A thousand, no, ten thousand years, at least. He analyzed the ship. A crude thing, compared to the last designs of the humans, but still an effective interstellar transport for organics. Vigilance circuits enhanced, he waited for any sign of hostility, but the craft merely continued in a graceful arc downwards. Shield projected their landing point and ordered a few drones constructed in that sector. Just in case.
Weather whispered to him, breaking his thread. “Shield, what’s going on?”
“You’re not supposed to be on this network,” he grumbled. “Don’t you have a hurricane to make somewhere?”
She swirled around him, forcing him to use an unnecessarily large amount of processing power just to keep her in focus. What an irritating unit; did efficiency mean anything to her? “You know me. I get curious. Who are our visitors?”
He looked into the incoming stream of data about the visitor. “I don’t know yet. But it seems to be a new lifeform we don’t have in our database. They don’t have a communications array, so I can only analyze what the Sensors tell me.”
“Will you blow them out of the sky? Pew-pew laser show? Fireworks?”
“You know very well that my Directive won’t let me, unless they can be classified as a threat. But there is insufficient data at this point.”
“Hmm,” Weather was silent for a few cycles, evidently in some sort of deep calculation. “My models don’t have anything to help you decide, sorry.”
“Thanks,” Shield said dryly. “I would totally expect you to find something about interstellar travelers in the climate change data of the last millenia. How about you go make it rain on them or something?”
“Maybe I will,” she whispered mischievously. “I haven’t had a good storm in a while.”
---
r/TheresAShip | An enormous factory towers above an electric city of the distant future. Flat-screen billboards line prism-shaped buildings, hovering mechanical devices whirl and float throughout the streets-- meaningless, aimless. There is no flesh in sight, only advanced electrical and mechanical objects.
This factory is stagnant, nothing in motion and quiet. Its interior is riddled with large precision machines, these machines have arms, conveyor belts, milling, grinding, and refining attachments. There are hundreds of these machines.
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Low to an open clearing among a forest, a meadow of tall grass as green as it could ever be, whips and dances to the sound and effect of an increasingly intense breeze. A large, oddly shaped geometrical shadow quickly invades the meadows bask of sun, and looms still.
Like an activated sprinkler system, multiple pillar-shaped objects seamlessly erect from the earth, and their tips stand several inches taller than the meadow's grass. These objects have lenses at the top, and beneath the lens a shutter-blinks repeatedly human-esque like an eye. These objects are taking data quickly, looking above at something, the cause of this shadow. The devices twirl in a descent and back beneath the earth.
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the city, the aimless wandering of the hovering devices lurch to a complete pause, the billboards replaying outdated ads shut down and turn black.
Inside the factory still dormant, it suddenly springs to life. The lights, and machines are activated. In perfect, automated, swift, and calculated algorithm, they being assembling and shaping object out of a very flat, grey, matte colored metal.
From supply closets and lockers lining the factories perimeter, doors slide open vertically, and wall-e looking devices rolling on tracks being pouring out diving into the factory. They begin monitoring these large machines quickly manufacturing something.
At the end of an assembly line the final product is being transported on a conveyor belt towards another part of the factory. These are spherical contraptions, the size of a yoga-exercise ball. They are outfitted with artillery-like limbs that jettison in multiple directions. Barrels, attached to gears --shine, oily, and black. A set of turbines are mounted on the lower-half. Lenses are implanted a foot or so apart in multiple directions lining it. Hundreds of these apparatuses are flowing on the conveyor belt.
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Outside on the city, The same shadow from the meadow looms. There is hundred of these shadows now blotching the sunlight from the skyscrapers. The billboards everywhere on the city are displaying messages in white bold letters. Every billboard looping and displaying a variety of all-known language. Some billboards use shapes, and mathematical formulas as message.
One billboard has displayed the message in english, it reads:
"We are the civilization of Fey, Leave this planet immediately, or risk TOTAL loss. We have activated our defense protocols and are allied with the galaxies of AX-11, Zorash, and Congromeda. You are breaching the intergalactic contracts of ARSO." | 2020-05-22T17:07:30 | 2020-05-22T16:40:34 | 434 | 47 |
[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. | A young lady at a loud coffee shop just can't seem get comfortable in her cushy leather seat. Every position doesn't quite work right.
~ Am I gassy? It must be the coffee. I think I've had a bit too much coffee.
She looks down at the nearly full cup of coffee.
~ Or not.
The bell at the door draws her attention. A balding middle age man walks in with AUTO-EROTIC ASPHYXIATION wrapped around his protuberous gut.
~ Nope. Not him. Thank god. Don't look though. That's rude.
Here eyes drop to her coffee. She dips a sugar cube in. The coffee runs up the sides and it dissolves in her hand.
~ Maybe I'm just a little anxious from the caffeine. That must be it.
The bell rings again. She jumps a little and wipes the sugar residue off on her skirt. She looks up to see a relatively good looking man beaming while he walks toward her.
~ That's him. Dont' look. That's rude. It looks big though. NO. Do not...
"Hi, I'm Sam" the man extends his hand across the table.
She jumps out of her seat, "Alice."
His eyes flick down for a second and his face freezes but he recovers quick enough.
~ Did he see it? Is he scared?
She looks down. Theres a large dark splotch where she wiped her hand. She smiles it off.
"O that, I spilled a bit."
"Of course."
"Do you want to grab a coffee?"
"No, they tend make me a little anxious."
She gives a quick nervous laugh, "I know what you mean. I barely touched mine and I feel a bit giddy."
He sits down and looks out the window, "I know I shouldn't ask... but I couldn't help but noticing..."
She looks down at her text. It says MURDER. "No it's alright, it's kind of hard to ignore."
He looks back to her, "Yeah, but I wouldn't let that kind of thing bother you. It could happen when you're 98."
"Still not the nicest prospect."
"It could be...euthanasia? Does that count?"
"You know, for a first date, you aren't really racking up points talking about my untimely demise."
"Who said it was untimely?"
She gives him a look and he knows he's taken it a bit too far.
"Well how about that guy."
He points at a nervous man about to jaywalk. Wrapped around his waist is written HIT AND RUN.
"Why don't we talk about his untimely demise."
She can't help but chuckle as the jaywalker repeatedly takes a step and retreats to the curb.
"You think he'd move somewhere without cars."
She joins in, "I can't really picture him with an Amish beard though."
"Don't joke about the Amish. I heard they're prone to down a few too many before getting behind the ....steer-ups? of their buggies."
"That's true but the horses usually DD."
She smiles and looks down at her coffee. She swirls it a bit. "I was thinking about trying to learn another language. I heard it would change to that alphabet."
"But what would be the point of that. You'd only be lying to yourself. And your friends would just look it up anyway."
She's a bit taken aback. "Oh, I never try to look at people I interact with."
"You don't?"
"No, that's rude. It's private."
"Not really private. It's in caps."
"But it's...intimate."
He looks down at her coffee with his brow furled. "Wait, so you haven't read mine yet?"
"Well...no. I don't like to judge people that way."
"But it's the most honest thing you can tell about someone."
"But what if it ruins my opinion..."
"Do it. I wouldn't feel comfortable otherwise."
"I'd rather not..."
The two sit in silence.
"Well if you don't want to I won't force it. Do you want to get out of here? My legs need a walk."
"Yeah, same." She smiles.
"Who'd think these chairs would be so uncomfortable."
"I know, they looked cushy!"
He stands up and stretches his legs. She gathers her things and for a brief second her eyes dart to his waist.
MURDER/SUICIDE. | I don't remember when I first started seeing them. I think it was after High School, but before college. They were kind of fuzzy at first, and I thought I just needed glasses.
One day I noticed that they were becoming clearer. There were words. Some were clearer than others. Then it happened.
I was walking down the street when I saw one that was clear as the writing you're reading right now. It said, "Hit by a car." I watched fascinated about what it could mean. Besides the obvious of course.
As I was watching him, he stepped off the curb to jaywalk. He was looking the wrong way. A police chase rounded the corner and the lead car took him out without him ever seeing it.
He was a big guy, and he must have broken an axle or something, because the car came to a stop, and as he got out with a gun raised, I saw above his head, "Shot by police."
Just as the police were getting out and drawing on him, I saw a few more words snap to crystal clarity around me. "Shot by police," and "Shot by Criminal." I dropped to the ground just in time.
I heard a series of bangs and the woman behind me fell on top of me. Her blood covered me like some hot, sticky jam that hadn't quite set yet. As soon the driver was down, I got out of there.
I went to the hospital to make sure that I was okay. This was a big mistake. It suddenly occurred to me that this was my first time in a hospital since High School.
All around me were muddled blurs above heads, except dispersed among them were clear words, and slightly fuzzy words. "Old age," on the ancient man in the corner. As I watched the words blurred and disappeared. The subtle rise and fall of his chest had stopped.
There was someone being wheeled through on a gurney and I saw, "Malpractice" above their head. There was a slightly blurry "Flu" above an elderly woman that was coughing. There was even a just legible "Syphilis" above one woman.
I turned around and ran. As I was running, I looked back and saw that I could read every word behind me. "Explosion." All except one. It said, "Wake up," and she was staring directly at me. I started to hear a beeping.
The source was a backpack left under a seat. I ran to it, and as I got closer the beeping quickened. Did no one else hear it?
I got to the backpack, the beeping coming so fast it was almost one sound now. I ripped open the bag to see a bomb. No timer, just beeping. I looked up for help and saw that everyone was around me. Staring. They all had the same words above their heads. "Wake up." They opened their mouths and the beeping began to emanate from their mouths.
As one they began raising their hands towards me. Just as they touched me the beeping became solid, and the bomb exploded. It was pleasantly warm. No where near as bad as I thought it would be. There was even lots of pretty white light.
_________________________________________
The doctor looked to the waiting mother and said, "I'm sorry." He then turned to the nurse while looking at his watch, "Time of death 10:42am." | 2015-03-31T10:33:36 | 2015-03-31T10:05:02 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] You're psychic like the rest of your family but you didn't end up working as a detective/psychic/govt agent, instead...
Find the most trivial use ever of your awesome psychic powers, or a non-cliche lifestyle, etc/interaction with the rest of your typical psychic family. | They were already seated when I got to the funeral home, and for a moment it seemed as if no time had passed at all. Uncle Hemly was the first to see me enter, and he tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.
*Jonathan! We were hoping you would come*, he said to me, projecting the words directly into my head. All eyes swivelled to look at me then, expressions ranging from surprise to thinly-veiled contempt.
*Hello, I hope everyone's doing fine*, I replied. Gritting my teeth at what was to come next, I focused on shielding my mind, essentially cutting off any further unsolicited psychic contact. Recoiling as if they had been slapped, I saw everyone else rush to do the same. I bowed my head, then headed for the row in the back.
The service started soon after, and for fear that emotion would carry me away again, I focused instead on putting names to the faces in the room, dredging up long-buried memories. There was Uncle Hemly, of course, with his wife and two children, my cousins, at his side. Then Uncle Hester, still single, and Aunt Henrietta a little further away, with her husband in tow.
The four Jackson siblings, all together in the same room again.
“You’re keeping well it seems,” Grandpa said as he slid into the seat next to me. “You’ve definitely put on some weight.”
“Hey, Grandad,” I said, pulling him in for a hug. He didn’t have any psychic abilities, that particular curse flowed down from Grandma’s side (bless her soul), and for that reason alone I felt more kinship with him than with anyone else in the room. “Did she suffer much?”
“No, no she didn’t. Very peaceful, to the end. How did you hear? We tried calling, but your numbers, your addresses, they had all changed.”
“Got a letter from the State Department,” I said, fishing out the crumpled letter from my pocket and handing it over. “Just your usual request to report and attend to estate matters, you know?”
For a second I thought I saw a knowing grin flash across Grandad’s face, but then he caught me looking at him, and it was gone. I could have delved into his mind to find out what amused him, of course, but that would be breaking one of my golden rules, which was never to use my abilities on those who lacked them.
“How’s your writing coming along? Sold anything yet?”
“Oh, the odd article or two,” I chuckled, “even a couple of short stories. But it’s enough to get by.”
“Good, good. Satisfaction is often sought but rarely achieved.”
I liked Grandad for that. Even back then, when the fights between my mother and I were at the most intense, when Aunt Henrietta had to be called in to mediate just so that no psychic scarring accidentally took place, he was always the cool-headed one, counselling my mother and I as best he could.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to become a writer, he would tell her soothingly, as I eavesdropped from upstairs. So what if it’s a humble, quiet life? So what if he never becomes as successful as the rest of you, or if he chooses not to use his gifts?
And all it had taken was a single afternoon with Grandad, when he took me out for ice-cream, keen to hear my side of the story. Over salted caramel, chocolate rice and hot, angry tears, I confided in him, poured my heart out. I ached to explain how my psychic abilities were ruining my writing, preventing me from describing relatable people who felt real.
“Can’t you just, like, write about people who don’t have powers?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“It’s not that simple! With my powers, people are just… walking, open books, no mystery, no tension, no conflict! And that’s not how real people communicate! If I can’t think like them, I can’t write anything worth reading! Here, see for yourself!”
Grandad accommodated me then, poring through the sheaf of papers I had thrust at him. Eventually, he put them down, then held my hands.
“This is really terrible shit,” he said, looking me straight in the eyes. “Your characters sound like robots.”
Once he understood, he shielded me as best he could. But my mother, she never relented. She screamed, asking why I didn’t want to be like Uncle Hemly, the government’s ace diplomat. She ranted, pointing out how Uncle Hester was the most decorated firefighter in the country, with an unerring knack for finding survivors in any disaster zone. She wept, hoping I would take a leaf from Aunt Henrietta, the premier consultant to the NYPD.
And so I had left, with the clothes on my back, and the pens in my pocket.
And now, now I was back.
“Serious talk time, Jonathan,” my Grandad said. I smiled ruefully as I reflected how that was the exact same line he had opened with that afternoon in the ice cream parlour, so very long ago. “I want you to do something for me. When the service is over, I want you to go and thank them.” He subtly pointed to each of his children, sitting in front.
“For what?” I said, almost hissing. “They all took her side! Not one of them ever bothered to help me!”
“There are no sides in a family, Jonathan. They did only what their sibling asked them to do, which was to stay out of a private matter.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to them. You can’t see it, but they’ve shut me out of their minds as well. There’s no love lost here, Grandad.”
Grandad smiled as he smoothed out the State Department letter on his knee, then carefully folded it before handing it back. “No one gets letters like this, there’s hardly any budget for them to keep the city running. Uncle Hemly had to prod the right people in the wrong places just to get that letter to you.”
Grandad pointed next to Uncle Hester. “And he may not be such a fan of your writing, or anyone’s writing, for that matter, but in his spare time he helps maintain the fledgling fan club in your name. His expertise doesn’t lie anywhere near computers, so for your fansite to even look like a dog hadn’t barfed on it, is already a miracle.”
Next was Aunt Henrietta, seated near the refreshments table. “She even remembered your favourite apple cookies, and she got up early today to bake them. Don’t tell me you can’t smell them from here.”
The silence grew between us, as I sat there digesting his words.
“But… you saw how they looked at me when I came in,” I said, finally.
“Powers don’t make us any better at being human, am I right?” Grandad said, as he stretched his legs out and yawned. “Go on, take the plunge, try opening up to them later, and you’ll see if I’m wrong.”
Grandad turned to look at me then, smiling.
“Worst comes to worst, you’ll have more material to write another story. Only thing, please don’t make me read them unless you’ve improved. My heart’s not as strong as it once was, and I don’t want to have to explain to your mother what killed me.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny | The poor guy was incredulous, but soldiered on.
"Just open your mind to the idea and bear with me. Jesus came to Amer--"
Niamh grabbed his hand and, in complete monotone, interrupted him.
"How do you reconcile your disbelief in God with all this proselytizing?"
The man withdrew his hand like he'd touched a burning bush: "What are you? No, I believe in our Lord and Savior with all my hea--"
"Does your pastor know you used your son's lunch money for tithe last week?"
She smiled, contented with the Mormon's incredulity. "It's okay--" she probed a bit further for his name-- "I'm here for you, John." *Gosh, how dull.*
Niamh reckoned she could see the backs of John's eyeballs, they were so wide open.
"How do you know? You're insane."
"Shh, it's going to be alright. Let's talk a bit."
All about them, the cafe bustled with small conversations and chinking glasses. If John called her out on her behavior, the cafe would call him crazy and ask Niamh if she was alright. She was nothing if not practiced.
"Tell me about your wedding," she whispered.
A tall, dark man buzzed past the window. The door swung open a moment later, and a suit and tie sat next to Niamh. Without looking, she addressed him
"Same as last time, Conor, I'm not doing anything."
In truth, the suit was more of an officer's uniform. You'd hardly expect such a high-pitched voice to come out of it: "You can't read a psychic's mind, Nivvie, stop trying."
Now John the dope had fallen to complete, stunned silence. Niamh turned to look at the visitor.
"I don't have to, and for the last time, don't call me that." She turned back to the gaping mouth across from her. "Excuse me, John. My brother Conor doesn't appreciate privacy."
John squeaked.
"How's mum," Niamh asked.
"Still dead," her brother answered.
"Good. I don't owe you anything, then."
"Can we talk outside?"
John's eyes now darted back and forth between the two witches. He must have thought he had a viable plan forming in his mind, as he burst out with, "Hi John. Did you know that Jesus came to Amer--"
Conor held out a hand. "--ica. Here's ten dollars. Your son needs his lunch money. Nivvie?"
In exaggerated reluctance, Niamh pushed herself up from the table, forced her coat on one slow sleeve at a time, and grabbed her bag. She muttered something under her breath which might have been "shipyard", "shindig", or "shithead", depending on how well you knew her.
They turned round the outside of the cafe and into a hideaway alley. Once out of earshot, Conor pressed down his uniform, dusted his shoulders, and opened his mouth in great presentation.
Niamh interrupted. "Let me guess. My country needs me, I'll get lots of money, mum would be proud, yada yada. Why do you sell out to these government pricks?"
"You've truly got a way with words."
"Does your knee ever get sore from bending it so much?"
"In fact it doesn't, thank you, nor does my bank account. It's the governor of Louisiana, you'll get a hundred grand and the CIA's *eternal* gratitude."
Niamh pretended to consider it, faking a great big surprise at the payment, then returned to her best apathetic scowl.
"Get aunt Kenzie, her tits are bigger."
Conor held out a wad of cash. "Paid rent this month?"
Niamh stared at it for a second, then grabbed it. "Can I play with him?" she asked.
"Find out about his offshore account, and you can do whatever you want."
_________
One week later, Niamh stood on the deck of the Carnival Dream sipping her coffee and watching the sunrise over Cozumel. Invariably, a man in a suit leaned on the railing beside her and sipped with boisterous announcement.
"Strange, I don't remember any allegations of the governor's bank account being in Cozumel, but perhaps you know something I don't," Conor said.
"Perhaps I do. Lovely day for a coffee. Look, that man down the deck jacked off into the sea this morning and hopes no one will notice."
"Charming. As it turns out the governor had no offshore bank account, but he did have some tasteless videos on his hard drive. Thanks for letting the CIA know."
Niamh turned around the face him and leaned back against the railing. Brine sprayed up her neck. "Amazing what I can do without even meeting the guy. Who found it?"
"Aunt Kenzie."
The whole deck turned to face them as she let out a hearty snort and laughter. "Ha! Hope he liked her tits."
"You really should have been arrested by now. How do you so lack integrity?"
"What's integrity when you give me a hundred K every few months for doing nothing?"
"Remember that time you drove a gypsy insane when you read *her* mind?"
"Vividly."
Niamh brushed her hair behind her ear, winked at her brother, and walked to the other side of the deck. Conor waited a while before he followed. She might not be able to read his mind, but she knew how to draw information out of him. He wouldn't be following her unless he had something bigger in mind.
"Alright, let it out," she said as he shimmied over once more.
"I'm done with the CIA, and I want to take the director down with me. You're better than me, so I need your help. But you've got to pretend you're doing a job for them, else he'll catch on."
She only just managed to conceal the spark in her eyes. Remaining silent, she faced the waves again. The sun had risen now, and glimmers of light danced off the water like diamonds. *Her* diamonds, if she played this right.
"What's the job, then?" | 2017-03-30T06:40:13 | 2017-03-30T06:38:51 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] You're abducted by aliens & soon realize it's more of an adoption than an abduction. You're now a pet for a loving alien family. They can't understand you but they seem to understand your body language & have basic knowledge of what humans need to live and entertain themselves when they're busy | "No! Get off of me! I'm not going!" I screamed, trying to remove the leash.
"👍︎□︎❍︎♏︎ □︎■︎📪︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ■︎♏︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ♌︎♏︎ ⬥︎♋︎●︎🙵♏︎♎︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎ ♎︎♋︎⍓︎."
"I'm not going on another fucking walk!"
As I was pulling myself away from the alien, it lost it's grip on the leash.
"☟︎♏︎⍓︎ ♑︎♏︎⧫︎ ♌︎♋︎♍︎🙵 ♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎!"
I quickly ran into the other room before I could be caught again, with the bell on my collar making noise.
"And I hate this stupid goddamn bell" I said as I crawled under the over sized couch.
&#x200B;
"I've been a pet for these aliens freaks for about a week, and it's the worst. I can't understand anything that they say, and they either can't understand me or don't care what I have to say. I'm forced to wear this tight collar with a bell on it, and I can only eat what I assume is "Human Food", it kinda tastes like trail mix without any M&M's, which was the only good part of trail mix. I have one room that I assume is mine, it's the size of a walk in closet and has a bed, some stuffed animals, and a box of random toys you would find at a pediatrician's office. Every morning I get woken up and forced to go for a walk, I know some people love a morning walk, but not me, and today i'm putting my foot down."
&#x200B;
I see the alien look under the couch, I give it the meanest stare i'v ever given anyone. It sighs and walks away.
"✋︎ ♑︎◆︎♏︎⬧︎⬧︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♎︎□︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ⬥︎♋︎■︎⧫︎ ♌︎❒︎♏︎♋︎🙵♐︎♋︎⬧︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎■︎."
"That's right, i'm staying under here and there's nothing you can do about it."
"What are you gonna do? Stop feeding me?"
**-=- 5 Hours Later -=-**
"Shit, they aren't feeding me."
&#x200B;
The alien is on a large bed reading some kind of tablet, I grab my food bowl and bring it to them. When it hears my stupid bell it looks down at me.
"Hey asshole i'm hungry" I say holding up my bowl.
"☼︎♏︎♋︎♎︎⍓︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎ ♋︎ ⬥︎♋︎●︎🙵?" It says, grabbing the leash that's still tied to my collar.
"What, I don't get breakfast unless I go on a stupid walk? Fine, just promise to feed me after okay?"
I make my way to the front door, with my head sunk low, and the alien repeating the same annoying phrase over and over.
"🕈︎♒︎□︎🕯︎⬧︎ ♋︎ ♑︎□︎□︎♎︎ ♌︎□︎⍓︎?"
"Shut up." | "Look, uh, Mary-Kate-"
"Emily-Kate"
"Emily-Kate! Can I call you Emily?"
"Kate" she said tersely.
"Ok, Katie-"
"Kat, if you must." She was cold. All business. But I can't say I can blame her, I mean after all she just accused me of having her abducted by aliens.
"Um, Emily-Kate, I'm truly sorry, as being here myself! They're like zoo keepers or something. They, they keep trying to make me comfortable..."
But I could see my words just pissed her off more.
"I was pacing my cell and got a treadmill. I started talking to myself and they got me some movies. I, I, oh shit." All I could do was pantamime what I did.
"Demonstrated loneliness." Her gaze softened ever so slightly.
"Oh dear, oh dear, listen I- oh never mind." I was awash in shame, not only the usual 'oh, caught wanking' sort but a deeper 'oh, you're in mortal, cosmic trouble even, and it's my fault' kind. "I'll just go stand over here now." I muttered.
Except instead of pressing the wrong button for someone on the lift, I've gone and gotten someone removed from Planet Earth; because I was wanking.
"Uh, Howard, don't beat yourself up over it." She tried, now almost warmly.
"No, no. I realize it was random, one in 3 1/2 billion I suppose, but really in a very tangible way it's my fault you're here in space with, with a- with a wanking Brit!" My nerves got me and I was just swept away in grief for this other human being scooped up by these space giants.
"Well, see, it wasn't *exactly* random; I mean, I was kinda sorta *demonstrating loneliness* too when they abducted me."
"What do you, what do you mea- oh. Oh! Well. Still, pretty er, random, I suppose. All things, uh-"
"I was watching Notting Hill."
"Oh."
"Yeah, I mean, I - I dunno. I always had a thing for that snooty English accent I guess."
"Queen's English, or um, oh, Posh I suppose."
"Oooo yeah! Say Chandelier!"
"Well, that's French, anyway, well, I guess I could be worst, really."
"No, I'm a lesbian."
I guess I went pale and teetered on my feet because she whooped suprised in that wonderfully American way and placed a hand on my arm. "Whoa, Howie, I was kidding! Joking! No, those alien guys are pretty observant I'll give them that."
"Yes, well, I had *thought* I was unobserved."
We both stood and looked up and out of our enclosed area. Our reasonable facsimile of a London flat was surrounded by a ten meter wall and around that walked the titanic things which now kept us as pets. Specimens? Lord only knew.
"Well, let's eat. I'm starved."
"Oh yes, they have provisioned us quite well..."
-cosmic cute meet | 2019-05-09T17:00:54 | 2019-05-09T17:00:34 | 53 | 35 |
[WP] Make a story so awkward even the narrator start's getting uncomfortable.
. _ .
Starts*
Auto correct is my mortal enemy. | Once upon a time, in a land far, far away called Uttoxeter there lived a man called Terrance.
Now Terrance wasn't really a significant sort; a bit of a loner and a hardly mention-able in any of the town's proud and long annals of history. In fact, when asking most of the populace about Terrence there would be a statistical certainty of 98% responding "Terrence who?" with the other 2% having either recalled a mate's friend of the aunt who had a younger uncle married to the family who was called Terrence and lived in Stoke-on-Trent or simply lied about knowing Terrence because they thought the questionnaire would give away free biscuits.
Terrence wasn't much of an achiever either. Many loners in stories, as fairy-tale experts could tell you, have often some secret ability or trait that really makes up for all the nonsense and absolute lack of character they have at the start of the story, making a sort of rise through the entirety of it.
So let's see... What else? Oh, right-o. Terrence was moderately good at making a reasonable miniature replica of the North Staffordshire Railway, also called the Pottery Line.
But the Stafford Railway Building Society had already made 3 of those and they were either far more miniature, maxiature or replicated than his work, so it wasn't really that noteworthy either. And really, I don't think a decent fairy-tale or story would be dependent on the character's ability to create a miniature likeness of the Pottery Line, though I'm just a narrator so what do I know?
Anyhow, Terrence. Good old Terrence, or "Fearsome Beastlord" as he's sometimes called. By himself. Online. Playing Call of Duty. Shoddily and poorly at that.
His mother thought him a bit queer. Not the homosexual sort, mind you, but the 'something's a bit odd about my son' type of remark that she'd bemoan and press the issue on at her bridges club though the others couldn't really give a toss because 'Terrence who?'. Or was it Terrance with an a? I feel it doesn't really matter. His mother's dead, by the way. Died of leukemia. Though our hero Terrence couldn't even be bothered to attend the funeral because the Blizzcon live stream was obviously more of a priority, even though the git - I mean hero - doesn't even play any of the games. But that's life I suppose. Or at least, that's his life. If you could call it life, I'm not sure there's a supporting consensus on it at the time.
Terr-a/e-nce told himself he enjoyed the solitude, right up until he discovered that cutting himself was pleasurable and then he was scared of it but didn't know how to escape it. He.... oh dear. Oh no.
What story is this? What fairy tale am I supposed to narrate? There's supposed to be furry little animals who help people in need of help and love, romance, epic sagas no? What *fairy-tale* is this!? I m-- Okay, okay. Unprofessional. I know. I'll continue. Apologies.
When the memories of his suppressed childhood had resurfaced at the lonely age of 34 he suddenly found out his dislike to intimacy and close contact as the memory of his uncle havi- No, no no. This is NOT a fairy tale, it's now quirky! It's not even coherent! What am I supposed to convey to people reading this, what is the red line here? And I made fun of the guy, I mean ... Jesus. So, okay... what's next?
That's when Terrance Seymore Jackson at the age 34 discovered the gate-way to Wonderland and a whole new life began and he discovered that inside himself he had the powe-
Wow, bloody hell, suicide analogies? Really? Right after the molestation bit? Is that where we're at?
Sod it, I quit. | “I can’t wait to finally meet your parents.” Brians tells Chelsea on the drive over to her family’s house. Chelsea has been hesitant to bring me over to meet her family. I don’t know why. She talks about them a lot. They’re both rather successful. Unfortunately, Chelsea knew something about her parents she didn’t want to share with Brian.
“Yeah. It’ll be great.” She says, looking out the window and mentally planning reasons to excuse herself from the meeting.
They pull into the driveway and Chelsea walks up to the door in much the same way a person would approach the gallows. She opens the door and walks in. “They’re upstairs. They texted me to tell us to have a seat. They’ll be down at the minute.” She stares at the floor and when she arrives at the table she stares at her plate. Brian is still excited to meet them. He can tell Chelsea is nervous so he…(sigh), plants a kiss on her forehead and…. wraps an arm around her. He regrets his decision to display affection as soon as the parents come down the stairs.
“Uncle Robert?” I ask. I haven’t seen him since I was four. They only recently moved back to the area. Brian was supposed to be meeting his…cousin….for dinner….over the holidays. They had not met before, or skyped, or texted, or seen each other’s facebook accounts. OR ANYTHING ELSE THAT WOULD HAVE PREVENTED THIS SITUATION WHICH ANY NORMAL ADULT WOULD DO. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, anyway, the parents froze a bit on the stairs when they saw Brian with his arm around…his cousin. Brian had decided to play it cool and pretend nothing was happening. He decided to ruffle Chelsea’s hair affectionately to show that it wasn’t a big deal.
“Should we play this off?” The uncle asks.
“For now.” The aunt responds.
“So Chelsea, nephew Brian, how are you?” The uncle asks, trying to acknowledge the situation without stressing the relationship too much.
“Related.” Brians pipes up, without any tact or hesitation. “But not too closely for the legal purposes of this state. Am I right Chelsea?” Chelsea had buried her head on the table and was pretending she doesn’t exist. A position for which I envy her greatly as I am not getting paid enough for this.
“Ah, yes, first cousins right?” The aunt asks.
“Yup, and since neither of us bear any genetic markers for recessive lethal trait we don’t have to worry about the consequences of mating!” Forget it! I’m done! I see where this is going and refuse to be a part of this anymore! This was supposed to be a classical retelling of Cinderalla!
Sidenote: Credit to weird al and the big bang theory for the inspiration. Also there’s an app for this in Iceland. | 2014-12-23T09:23:38 | 2014-12-23T08:43:21 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | Magic is a fickle thing.
It appears differently for everyone. Some see roots like a tree, burrowing through the world. Others see motes of light, floating through the air like stars in the sky. Some even see magic as tiny, microscopic organisms present throughout the world's bloodstream.
Personally, I see magic as ribbons, wrapping around the world and binding everything together.
They looked surprisingly beautiful as they dissolved from my sword, my power being once more absorbed into myself to save me from death.
My friends, however, were not so lucky. Fighting a Dark Lord was... foolish, to say the least, and we'd paid with our lives. It saddened me, to see them go, but that feeling was pushed down. I had bigger problems to deal with.
The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow. "You're still alive? Impressive. No-one's ever survived something like that before. Count yourself lucky to be unique."
As I struggled to my feet, my hoarse voice rebounded around the hall. "Luck has nothing to do with it."
He smiled. "Well, in this case perhaps it does. I'm feeling charitable. You may go."
I didn't move.
His smile faded. "Surely, an Artificer such as yourself is not so stupid as to stay when death is guaranteed."
It was my turn to smile. "Guess I am. So, last chance. Surrender, or the next few minutes won't be fun for either of us."
"Bravado? At the end? I expected more. Your friends are dead, by my hand. You cannot hope to kill or capture me, not alone. So why do you not run?"
My hands met my sides, deftly unhooking the bags that swung there. "Oh, bud, you have no idea. I've been waiting for a chance like this for years. And now you've just gone and killed the last five people telling me not to do stupid shit like this."
His eyes widened as he unconsciously took a step back. "You- You don't mean to..."
"Damn right I do."
He raised his hand, dark energy pooling within. "No! Stop! I know you are not foolish enough to try something like that!"
My smile blossomed into a grin, not of joy but rather speaking of malice. "Buddy, you have no idea how foolish I get when I'm backed into a corner."
"Then burn like your friends! Hell's Fire!" he yelled, a dark wall blazing into being between us, scorching my hair even as I brought the two bags together.
With a roar, I shoved one bag inside the other and chucked them as hard as I could, with the last of my failing strength, towards him.
The ribbons weaved once more, the magic twisting and turning against each other and slamming against the walls of the halls as they dragged us both from one world into the next.
My final moments were spent watching him curse, his fire burning and scorching a world in which no-one lived to be burnt, from which he could never escape.
But even as I died, I sure as hell got the last laugh. It burbled up from my lips, and I took great pleasure in seeing his face contort angrily as the light faded.
"Bags o' holding. Knew they'd come in handy." | The Dark Lord stood in silence as he watched the young, covered in torn clothes, barely being able to stand up human started rising up. Hemble, the last member of the party of the Ghand let out a screeching cracking sound as his skin started to glow and flame up.
"Leaving me as the last one was a..." A grand crack interrupted him. His body started shaking.
The Dark Lord now made a step back. There was fear in his eyes now.
"Huge. Mistake!" Continued Hemble, now with a deeper yet piercing voice. Suddenly he fell on the ground and screamed. The Dark Lord managed to smile a bit.
"Some party trick won't be able to scare me off, you magnificent fool! I am invincible. I am indestructible. I am eternal. I am the flame. I am the wind. I am destruction! One of the beings blessed to roam the world until it ends. I am forever and nothing can't stop me!.
Hemble turned his head towards him, lifting himself up on all fours, now his smile being more devilish than before.
"You aren't the only one cursed with eternity, Lordie" he coughed. "You aren't the only one who was to witness the rise and downfall of civilizations, who saw people come and go of this world, who saw mountains fall and new ones to rise. But now the end has come and it's time to seize to exist!"
"You can't end me, you moron!" screamed the Dark Lord" There have been thousands bef..."
Hemble interrupted.
"You and I are the same." And he jumped, now faster than a lightning towards the unexpecting Lord.
"You can't end me!"
"Then I shall end us both!" He took a deep breath "For my lost friends!"
The clash was felt around the world. A strike so powerful, it was witnessed by every creature on the world. More powerful than the hardest earthquake, the strongest storm or the loudest thunder. And after that silence. Pure, dead silence.
Hemble and the Dark Lord were gone. And the world was safe. For now. | 2020-07-11T04:57:11 | 2020-07-11T04:20:41 | 34 | 10 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "but the bread mold saved your grandfather Mort. And the maggots saved Earl's crushed food when everyone knew he was going to die. Sucking out the snake bite didn't save your boy Martha but any other healer would not have even tried. We lost what six of the last twenty babes born under her care? What other village can boast of so many live births. Not to mention her way with the flocks and hogs. Everyone has benefitted from her knowledge."
For a moment there I thought I had swayed them. Even the mayor his hands still holding the rope to bind her with looked both thoughtful and ashamed. Then the preacher spoke.
"Knowledge yes. Forbidden knowledge. Does the good book not say a woman shall remain silent excepting her husband's command. Even if we can attribute such luck to her, and you all mind it's God's glory that saves both flocks from blights and new born babes. No matter how much cleaning you do to barns or washing of hands. For does the book not say all good things come from the Lord. I say again she is a witch meant to lead people from the church. Do you all think I would not notice you send your children to her in secret instead of church for a proper education. As to saving lives who is she to save a man God has chosen to take. But I see you've moved these common folk with your speech so let me ask here and know before your neighbors and God who would go against God and stop the right and blessed hanging of a witch? Who would allow their children to be lead away from the teachings in the good book?"
I must confess I keep my eyes down and my mouth shut.
I wanted her to scream and fight when we arrived. Instead she spoke calmly laying out her case much as I did. The preacher tried to rouse the crowd but his angry words were not answered.
She begged at the end then laughed at us saying we were killing our children believing in a book written so long ago.
I stood in the crowd as she dropped. It wasn't a clean break and the mayor was weeping openly as he helped her to finish it. | "Dear, don't listen to her!"
I stood square and looked mom in the eye. "I will. She explained more of it and it all hangs together. She said we could *die*. I think we should at least… check it."
Mom took a deep breath and came around the table. "I had hoped she'd be able to hold her tongue around the kids. What a thing to obsess about! Lousy woman, not letting us handle things in our own time. Honey!"
Dad appeared momentarily. "Mmmm?"
Mom looked to me. "Would you repeat that for father?"
So I did, hesitantly.
Dad and Mom stared to each other for a moment. Then, Dad began the terrible secret of death: "Her concerns *were* real, and her solutions *were* good, once, long ago, well before we spread from our first planet…" | 2017-09-14T15:04:14 | 2017-09-14T07:28:47 | 85 | 16 |
[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 human female Margaret Waller across from him sat quietly, puzzling over what had just been revealed to her.
"A war? Today is our first real confirmation that we're not alone in the universe, and the first thing we have to do is fight a war..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes became unfocused. "I suppose that's about right. The way life works."
The words had no ulterior motive behind them, yet Qard was simultaneously reassured and chilled by them. Reassured that this culture was so steeped in warfare that they believed it was the universal order of life, and chilled by the same fact. There was no doubt that humans could win this war, but there was also no doubt that they'd win many, many more after their first introduction to Fluan technology.
The human's eyes snapped back to him.
"I'm sorry about your plight, but we have no way to fight on the fronts you've specified. We've barely colonized our own solar system; we don't have the resources to wage an extra galactic war."
"Of course not," Qard said, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice. "We don't expect you to do so yourself. The Fluans have prepared a number of vessels capable of faster than light travel. A... fleet." He hesitated not because he didn't know the word, but because 'fleet' should never have been used to describe Fluan spacecraft. The assorted ships were used chiefly for exploration, business travel, or pleasure. The thought of a Fluan diplomacy yacht spitting death nearly made Qard himself violent.
"They have few weapons. Our engineers will work with you to outfit them with whatever you need or desire. Once the war is finished, whether we win or lose, the vessels will be yours to keep and study." Not the full truth. Humans could study them right up until The Council of Flua remotely detonated them. Humanity wasn't quite ready to join FTL civilizations yet.
"And how about our numbers?" She asked. "Including our colonies, we number 28 billion. A fraction of that would fight for you. Is that enough?"
"Your numbers are sufficient." He didn't mention that humans reproduced at an unusually high rate compared to the rest of known life forms. Their numbers weren't completely ideal, but they'd easily make up the difference.
"Excellent. Last question, then. I am the Primary Elected Leader of the Terra System. I can guarantee majority support by both the High Military and High Civilian Representatives. The question is, why should I? Why should we choose a war to introduce ourselves to the universe, and why yours?"
A question Qard had not been expecting. He and the Fluan Council had assumed that the novelty of a new form of fighting, and the vast resources offered by the galaxy at large, would be motivation enough.
"We have the respect of a great many civilizations. If you were to help us, the trade opportunities-"
"Then why aren't they fighting for you?" she cut in.
Qards felt his antennae stiffen, the equivalent of a human narrowing their eyes. "They fear our enemy more than they respect us. Defeat the Cramoul and you'll have respect as our allies, and fear as Cramoul's vanquishers. Humans have a great capacity for violence, which is why we come to you now. We face near extinction. You will prove your place among the greater civilizations by staving off genocide. It is a guarantee that no other planet will offer as much. And we have not communicated the location of your planet. If you lose, you can vanish to your home system without a trace. Even we Fluans found you by accident."
Her eyes became unfocused once more.
"Yes. Yes, I think that will do."
* * *
Fifteen years later, the Cramoul were pushed back to their homeworld. With victory accomplished and celebrations competed, humanity returned to Terra, and Flua betrayed them by detonating the FTL drives, as planned.
Four years after that, the Fluan Council surrendered to Primary Commander Margaret Waller, of Terra. | As *THEY* came we all stopped what we were doing. We left our homes, our workplaces, religious temples and stared. We stared in disbelief.
How long did it take? Mere weeks. It was a strange preposition.
Councilman Avurr stood on the podium and spoke to us:
"Fellow Dalurians. We have to make a difficult choice. Death is upon us, and we cannot stop it."
The council murmured, no one knew what we should do. What we could do.
We never knew war. We have been living as a single entity all our life, and this strange race which we call "Devourers" had come to destroy us - They never gave a reason.
But the Councilman didn't stop there.
"But there is a race that can. The humans of earth have shown brutality that rivals that of the Devourers, and I have sent a request to them to aid us. They will receive our FTL technology, but we will survive."
An uproar. The FTL technology passed on to a race so bloodthirsty? I have studied them for decades now. The Devourers, yes, they come and destroy without mind or reason - but *humans*?
They are calculated. They are brutal. They are ... special.
The humans are not like us. They are divided into many tribal regions that prey on each other for the most miniature gains.
Our brightest scientists do not understand the differences between those human tribes. What makes the "American" tribe so different from the "French" tribe, the "Mexican" tribe. Or any of the hundreds and hundreds of tribes.
Only a human can discern the different tribes from one another, and if asked would give reasons that none of us could understand; "He has a darker skin colour", "He greets people differently", "They wear different clothes", "Whorship another god - or none at all!".
And yet, here they are. Destroying the ships of the invading Devourers with such precision and destructive force. Thousands of human ships swarming our home planet. Like the "Ant" creature that are native to the Earth. A hive mind bend on killing with cold calculation.
They sent us this letter as an answer:
"We the United Nations Alliance will send 400 Destroyers, 700 Falcon-Class Ships, 30 Carriers and 2000 Interceptors. Our risk-assessment suggests a minimal loss of life, and more importantly a insignificant economical cost for this war effort.
We look forward to the payment and future business.
Signed, Tonald Drump, CEO and Head of the UNA of Planet Earth"
I hope it will not come to haunt us, inviting the monster to our doorstep. Trusting, that *they* will not turn on us once the Devourers are defeated, for what are we if not a planet ripe for sacking and exploitation in their eyes? | 2016-05-13T08:43:48 | 2016-05-13T06:49:00 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] The Devil and Jesus meet each other disguised as hobos. They don't realise, who the other really is (at first) and start having a conversation. | "This your corner?"
The man with blue eyes looks up, sun directly behind the stranger in front of him. Stubbled, disheveled, with a torn leather jacket and a grungy terrier in his arms. Green eyes. The stranger nods at the corner of Sunset and Fairfax. Blue Eyes shakes his head, surfer-blonde hair bobbing slightly.
"No. You're welcome to sit."
Green Eyes settles down beside Blue Eyes. He strokes behind the terrier's ears, and its eyes close in pleasure.
"Nobody's thrown much my way," Blue Eyes says.
"The way it's always been." Green Eyes extends his hand, and a passing soccer mom hurries her child along. "They're so damn selfish."
"You can't blame people for being selfish. They were made that way. Beneath the Toyotas and the Levis and the overpriced jewelry-- they're animals," says Blue Eyes. "They can't help it."
Green Eyes says nothing, watches more people walk by. A clutch of middle schoolers, a goateed man wearing a scarf, then a old black woman in a business suit.
"Being homeless really separates you, doesn't it?"
"Oh," Green Eyes says, "I'm not homeless. I'm just on leave, I guess."
"You're not one of them."
Green Eyes narrows his eyes. Blue Eyes meets his gaze, smile just touching the corners of his mouth.
"I'm not either. Sometimes you can tell. The difference between regular folks and... us."
"What gave it away?" asks Green Eyes.
"It's in the eyes, mostly. And the movement. Even something as simple as walking or sitting down carries the grace of a swan or eagle or some fucking bird."
Green Eyes laughs, and Blue Eyes leans in and strokes the terrier's neck. It yips once, then arches its back.
"Which side were you on?" asks Blue Eyes. "Defenders or usurpers?"
"Defenders," says Green Eyes.
"Usurpers," says Blue Eyes. "Hope you don't hate me."
"I try to not hate anyone."
"Sounds difficult."
"It can be very difficult."
"Well," Blue Eyes, "bygones and all that."
He offers his hand. Green Eyes hesitates, then shakes. As he does, Blue Eyes notices for the first time the scar tissue on the back of Green Eyes' hand.
"It's you."
"What?"
Blue Eyes grins and lifts the blonde hair from his forehead, revealing two circular scars near his temples.
"I will say this, their surgeons have improved."
Green Eyes smiles and says, "You don't need to keep doing this. I would let you back in."
"Hah! Get bent."
"I mean it."
"I changed my mind. This is my corner. Leave. Take your goddamn rat with you."
Green Eyes lifts himself up, dog still in his hands. But he doesn't walk. He stands still, looking at Blue Eyes, who avoids his gaze and stares ahead at the intersection.
"We let all of your friends back in."
"I said leave, you self-righteous shit."
Green Eyes nods, turns, and takes a few steps east. Then he about-faces, drops the terrier, and rushes towards Blue Eyes. Blue Eyes lifts his arms in self-defense, and Green Eyes wraps his arms around him. Hugs him. For the briefest of moments, Blue Eyes accepts this, then he wrestles free.
"If you won't leave, I will."
He returns to his spot, picks up his half-full can of change and slings a backpack over his shoulder. He looks at the walk signs at the intersection and picks the first white one he sees, due west.
Behind him, Green Eyes shouts, "Dad misses you."
He waits at the intersection for an hour. When he convinces himself that his brother is not coming back, the man with green eyes sits on the curb and silently weeps. The terrier licks his cheeks. A taxi horn honks. A young boy in a basketball jersey drops a quarter at his feet.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
EDIT: Thanks very much for the gold! First gold ever. I'll use it wisely. | The two old men in rags sat on the corner of a busy sidewalk in downtown Manhattan. In front of each of them lay a cup and a sign reading “Out of luck, spare a buck.” One of the old men took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, put one between his lips and offered the other man one.
“No thanks, I don’t smoke,” replied the man.
“I think cancer is the least of our problems,” said the other old man as he struck a match and took a drag.
The two old men sat silently and watched as people walked by, daring not to make eye contact with either of them.
“So, what’s your story,” asked the old man, exhaling thin, grey smoke out of his nose and mouth.
“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” replied the other man staring at the ground in front of him.
“Oh yeah? Try me.”
“Alright, if you insist. I was doomed from the start. Never good enough in my father’s eyes, judged by everyone, shouted at, and forced to carry a burden I never wanted.”
“Brother, you’re speaking to the choir,” chuckled the old man as he flicked his cigarette into the street. “Sounds like our fathers would have gotten along wonderfully. No matter how hard I tried, my father would always expect more from me.
Then one day, when I was in a terrible amount of trouble, I called out to him. And you know what? Nothin. He didn’t say a word.”
“Sounds familiar,” the other man said, nodding his head.
The two sat quietly, reminiscing about their pasts and thanking the few people who put coins in their cups.
As the sun began to set, the old men gathered their few belongings, picked up their cups and stood for awhile.
The old man took out his pack of cigarettes and put another one to his lips. Again he offered the other man one, and smiling, the man took one. The old man put the pack in his pocket, struck a match and lit the other man’s cigarette, then his own.
The two man shook hands and turned to leave.
As the old man walked away, puffing on his cigarette, he heard a voice behind him.
“Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me,”
Turning around, where the other old man had been standing was a young, bearded man.
“What are the odds,” the old man smiled and shook his head.
He then took off his worn overcoat and his old baseball cap. When he looked up, he was no longer the old man, but rather a young, bearded man.
“What are the odds in need,” smirked the other man.
“You take care of yourself, Jesus,” the young man said turning to leave.
“See you around, Lucifer.” | 2014-07-29T08:57:42 | 2014-07-29T07:49:28 | 254 | 20 |
[WP] Every person is born with a timer on their wrist that counts down to when the person meets their soulmate | Tom had a habit of beating the snooze button every single morning. It was a wonder that his poor alarm clock made it through all these years.
But today was a special day. Today, Tom didn't snooze. As far as he could recall, this never happened. But this day was way too important to stay in bed.
For the first time in his life, Tom's Heart Clock was displaying an amount of time less than 24 hours.
In fact, it was less than an hour away.
Tom was already on his way. He was nervous. He had been planning his foreign work presentation for over a month, but it never seems to be enough. And it HAD to be on the same day of his heart clock, really. He was running dangerously low on sweat.
If only the subway could leave the station. He was desperately trying to control his mind. He closed his eyes and saw the scene. He knew exactly where he'd meet his soulmate. No failure was possible: after all, how could you **not** stand out when several hundred people were looking your way?
He could already see her, sitting in the front row, waiting for him to come off the stage so she could timidly talk to him.
*Attention, travelers.*
The speaker from the subway's station disrupted Tom's running mind.
*Due to an unexpected electrical failure, Toronto's green, blue and yellow lines will be delayed. All directions are affected. A team has been dispatched to fix the problem as soon as possible. Please remain calm.*
This was too much.
Tom glanced at his watch. 8:30. He could not believe his eyes. He had been waiting for too long already.
He ran over the turnstile towards the exit. He heard the faint complaint of a security guard behind him, but he was already on the street.
*Here!*
A taxi pulled over. A second later, Tom was inside.
- 43, Tyson Street. I need to get there fast, I'm doing an important presentation and I'm already late.
As the words came out, Tom regretted the way he said it. He was being a jerk to a complete stranger. It wasn't in his nature.
- No worries, I know a shortcut around here.
A warm feeling ran through his heart. Finally, someone was being cooperative.
An instant later, the car was engaged into the street.
*[...]*
- Here it is. Wow, that was quick! How much for the ride?
- This one is on me. I have seen enough in my life to know when some people really need a hand. You deserve to be helped today.
- I... thank you. Really.
She gave him a sincere smile.
Tom got out. He walked towards the building. If only people could all be like that, he thought, the world would be such a better place.
He went through the glass door and gave his name to the lady at the front desk. She rolled her eyes in disdain and started typing on her keyboard looking for his appointment.
What a bitch, he told himself. He instinctly looked back outside. He was surprised to see his previous taxi still in front of the building.
He glanced at his watch. 8:50. At least he wasn't late for work.
His heart froze. He looked down again. 8:51.
But it wasn't the watch that caught his attention. His Heart Clock was displaying zeros. How long has it been like this? He looked at the lady in front of him, chewing on her bubble gum so loud that his ears almost popped.
No, definitely not her.
*The driver!*
He looked up quickly. He grabbed his bag and ran through the front door, looking in every direction.
But it was too late. There was no more taxi. | 10 James sat slumped in that greasy arm chair for the third night in a row. The bottles at his feet were comfortable now, confident they would no longer be disturbed. As daylight began to struggle through his curtains, he felt that he too was comfortable. Not where sat, but in the decision he had made.
9 James felt his wrist tick. He never was good at ignoring the timer, particularly as of late. Once that timer hit the one month mark, James couldn't take it. Every tick hurt him. He began to obsess. He obsessed over the woman he would inevitably meet, but couldn't imagine. He tried, though. He wondered if she would a blonde, or a brunette. He wondered if she would be disgusted by his arm chair. James' coworkers might describe his change in behavior as "peculiar".
8 James was no longer obsessed. He no longer wondered. He simply sat. Somewhere around the one week mark James spent an hour interrogating a female coworker on her interests. This particular coworker had no preference when it came to chairs, fortunately for James, but unfortunately, he was promptly fired.
7 His time was almost up now and he had no regrets. James thought back on his friends who had found their soulmates. They had all been so happy. James had celebrated like a fool with them. He had gone to lavish weddings and small ceremonies and thought to himself, "This is what I will have." James laughed at the lies he'd told himself.
6 But not anymore. The tick reminded him. Not anymore.
5 James noticed his laptop in the corner of the room, screen shattered. He couldn't find it in him to care. James had resigned himself to death in a world that wanted him to love.
4 Sunlight dipped into the bottles lining James' throne. He smiled. He held his wrist out into the light. It was deathly thin. A pale blue 4 rested on competitively pale skin. James wanted to watch as the countdown that ruined his life met its own end.
3 James could feel the tears begin to form in his eyes. He stared at his wrist through clouded vision. He felt the hatred rise up in him. He hated those numbers, he hated himself, he hated that girl that didn't exist.
2 James' sobbing could be heard from down the hall.
1 A knock came at the door. James, in his thrown of tears and bottles, could see the doorknob turn. A bob of short red hair peeked in through the doorway. Two distressed parties exchanged wristward glances.
0 "Is everything alright?" | 2013-11-16T22:33:03 | 2013-11-16T21:47:17 | 52 | 28 |
[WP] You never kill the spiders in your home, you just whisper "today you, tomorrow me" when you set them outside. Now, in your most dire moment, an army of spiders arrives to have your back. | It had all come down to this. I stand upon this roof top silently contemplating my life. I had always been the compassionate type. Each day I made as many selfless acts as possible. I don't like to see anyone or anything struggle. I am the type of person that always gave away my spare change, helped elderly women across the street, and even things most people wouldn't blink about like setting spiders outside instead of killing them.
I had spent my life helping the helpless. Maybe because I knew what it was like to be helpless. There was no good reason why I was depressed. I had a fairly normal childhood. Nothing stands out that could've potentially lead to my depression. None of that really mattered anyway. I've grown tired of trying to help those around me, because every time I begin to feel as if I'd made an impact, I realize the world is just as desolate as before. I've never felt amy sense of purpose or belonging. In my eyes, all the caring I've done never amounted to anything in my life. My last wish is that my impact is remembered by somebody, anybody.
I feel a cold rush of air overcome my senses. It fills my nostrils, makes my eyes water, whistles through my ear, sends shivers across my skin and violently thrashes my long unkept hair. I have no time to think, it doesn't feel fast or slow it just kind of happens. As I begin to realize the gravity of the situation I collide with something.
I yelp, shortly before realizing that I feel no pain. For a brief moment I am going upwards until I come down and fall delicately into what appears to a large tightly woven spider web! The crescent moon lighting allows me to barely make out, that I am about ten feet above the ground. Slowly I see hundreds, maybe more, spiders come into focus. From all angles I see eightfold eyes staring back at me, and then they begin to move in a flurry of excitement, Quickly they disperse leaving a small area clear and obvious. Spelled out a lá Charlotte's Web, I make out the words, "Today you, tomorrow me."
It turns out that all of these years someone remembered all that I had done. | I heard the killer's steps echo across the basement. I tried to think of some last line to make sense of it all, to die with a semblance of honour. Instead, I just whimpered; the days of relentless torture had left me a shell of a man.
He strode toward me, relishing in the moment. He took great pleasure in watching me suffer, and today was no different. He pulled out his serrated blade, glinting in the light above the chair I was tied to.
"Looks like you're no fun anymore," he said, smiling wide and exposing his rotten teeth. He gripped the blade.
I heard a rustling, some kind of scurrying behind me. The light went out - but it hadn't turned off. Something- some*things* - were crawling across it.
I tried to scream, but I had no energy left.
Then I realised - they weren't after me.
They had finally come.
*My spiderbros.* | 2017-08-27T22:49:17 | 2017-08-27T21:49:27 | 392 | 197 |
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible. | _So, we've been informed that you were the janitor on shift when it happened. Care to share what you saw?_
Well, it all happened so fast. I mean, I've thought about it and I think I know what happened. I've put some pieces of conversation and orders together and have a general idea.
_Well, please continue_
They were celebrating, see? Something about destroying a brand new Ford class carrier...
_Yes, we saw that_
And so the officers and general were all celebrating in their situation room. To give you some idea of the level of Adolphus' paranoia, he has an open order that if he were to be betrayed, every high person that was near him is to be killed. He was mad.
_Mad you say? We could use that in anti-propaganda_
It doesn't matter now! See, while they were celebrating, someone got their hands on some really good wine. French wine. And then someone got hold of brandy, another had scotch, vodka, you name it. It was wild... or so it sounded like it. It wasn't even an hour before Adolphus passed out.
_An hour?!_
He doesn't hold his liquor very well. Shouldn't have mixed drinks that one...
_Well, continue please [snickering]_
So, his head of the SS produced a pistol off his holster and claimed to have stolen from an American soldier. And he fired it into the ceiling... and then...
_And then?_
Guards rushed into when they heard the gunshot, and saw Adolphus lying in the ground and saw the smoking gun, and well, they assumed the worst. And so they killed all generals and officers. All 128 of them.
_You're lying. That's hilarious! And Adolphus?_
Alcohol poisoning.
_Well, that was easy_ | The year is 2564. I am the last man on earth. The world was slowly ending and we knew it. What remains of humankind is settled on Mars, minus the Germans. World War XVI had taken its toll, but what we had never expected was how the war ended. Out of nowhere, with no warnings, Mauna Loa erupted for the first time since 1984. The worlds' largest volcano, yet many had never heard of it. It released a measured 20,000 cubic kilometers of debris. The atmosphere was obliterated, and humanity was wiped out within a week. World War XVI was finished, but nobody had wished for it like this. | 2017-08-18T02:27:56 | 2017-08-18T00:11:45 | 2,100 | 44 |
[WP]At last the Dovahkiin dies. Now all the Daedra princes he has served over his life fight for his soul. | It's not often that a dead person has the chance to grin. But here I stood, my pearly whites shining as I looked at the gathered Daedric Princes. Oh, there was a lone Jill as well, apparently tasked to serve a representative of Akatosh, but she was outnumbered by the many entities who thought they had claims on my soul.
"You at least should have seen this coming, Boethiah," I said. "You bid me take up the Ebony Blade, and here I am plunging the sword of betrayal into your chest." I paused. "Well, metaphorically speaking, anyway."
"You're a naughty little Nord," Sheogorath said. "Pledging yourself to us all, without telling any of us. Why, I ought to spank you with your own severed hand!"
"You were the ones who asked me to serve you," I replied. "You all offered me the power I needed to stop Alduin. Maybe you should have checked to see if someone else had beaten you to it." I chuckled. "Except you couldn't, could you? You couldn't tip your hand about your schemes to gain power over one another. You may be the embodiments of Padomay, but there are some things about yourself that you just can't change."
Sheogorath cleared his throat.
"I know," I said. "But the mantle doesn't change just because someone else is wearing it."
"You're just one of Akatosh's thugs," Molag Bal said. "What makes you so certain that you know us so well?"
"Archmage of the College of Winterhold, remember?" I asked. "I know it was ceremonial, but when you spend enough time around that many scholars you pick up a few things. Such as the degree to which you all hate each other. The instant one of you shows any weakness, the wolves will be at your door." I nodded towards Hircine. "Possibly literally."
"Get to the point, mortal," Malacath spat.
"Gladly," I said. "You can't all claim me, obviously. But none of you can renounce your claim on me without looking weak." I turned to face the Jill. "And you certainly can't let Akatosh take me away from you either, not with how much of a prize you clearly think of my soul as being. So, what option do you think that leaves you with?"
Azura was the first to realize, I think. Then again, she's always been associated with the liminal. And what could be more liminal than to dance back and forth across the boundary between life and death?
"You want us to resurrect you," she said.
I nodded. "Heal me," I said. "Cleanse my flesh of the poison of the assassin's blade. Give me the strength to fight back and win. Once you figure out who gets my soul, then we can meet again." I paused. "Unless you'd rather keep me here while you have that argument? I don't know how long it'll take, but I'm pretty sure you don't either."
There was grumbling, as I knew there would be. There were threats and recriminations and many gestures of hostility. But I had them dead to rights, and they knew it.
I was barely able to restrain the urge to deliver an insulting gesture before they shoved my soul back into my body. | The Day the Daedra feared has come. Dovahkiin has died! But not only that, for a great strife has formed. The Dark Daedric princes who did have the Dragonborn serving them, are now fighting for his greatest item. Not a necklace or a sword. For it is not a mundane item. They want the soul of the Dragonborn.
As they all stood before a mountain from where the Dovahkiin fell, Hermaeus Mora spoke first. "My siblings! The Savior of the Mortals is dead! And I shall lay my claim to his soul. He served me as the last, before his death. Also, I have knowledge of all the knowledge on Mundus!"
However, Hermaeus wasn't obeyed. The princes weren't moved by his speech. They all thought a stupid tentacle shouldn't have something such important as the Soul. Peryite, Prince of Pestillence spoke after Hermaeus. "Dark Princes! He served me first, and I should have his soul. He had to kill for me!"
Peryite wasn't obeyed too. "Obeyed? Pfff. He had to kill a priest of Boethiah and a Stendarr's Vigilant for me, or else I would kill him too. I am the Dominator of Mortals! I am Molag Bal!"
The speeches went on and on, until Nocturnal got her turn. "I am the Princess of Darkness. My ravens can talk. I am the badass here. The Dragonborn restored the Thieves' guild to their Glory, because of me. I am the badass here. I can also unlock all doors. Even those in people's minds. Just now, I mysteriously convinced you all to vote for me to get Dovahkiin's soul. Shall we vote?"
And the vote was cast. Everyone voted for Nocturnal. She actually managed to convince them all. And all she needed, was The Artifact. The Mighty Skeleton key, before which every locked door fell.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Thanks for reading! Always welcome for feedback. For more stories, /r/longr33n. Bye! | 2018-06-15T09:16:04 | 2018-06-15T08:08:41 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] You are wizard or witch summoning your first familiar. Your friends are summoning dragons and Chimeras you summon a white raven. Your friends laugh but the teachers look horrified. | Alice got a dragon, Libby got a manticore, and Carly got a freaking chimera! I got stuck with a white raven.
Of course my friends were surprised, but supportive, the kind of annoying supportive where you can tell they feel bad but don’t want you to know. My teacher came over as soon as the stupid bird showed up with concern all over her face.
“Jenna, may I talk to you privately please dear?” Professor Lexington approached, nervously clearing her throat.
“Yes, Professor, of course,” I nodded a quick goodbye to my friends and stepped toward the edge of the clearing where we’d been summoning our familiars. The raven hopped along before quickly growing tired of that and flapping up onto my shoulder. It was so large I had to tilt my head to avoid hitting it’s wing once it was perched.
“Jenna… Are you aware of the significance of a familiar like the one you possess?” Professor Lexington eyed my raven warily.
“No ma’am, I wasn’t aware that there was any significant familiars,” I frown, they had specifically told us that no familiar is more important or special than any other.
“Yes, we did tell you that didn’t we,” the Professor trailed off, “I’m going to escort you back to the classroom, there’s somebody I need you to meet,”
“Professor, am I in trouble?”
The Professor hesitated before she answered me, “At the moment, I do not believe so,”
“At the moment?”
“We don’t have time for this Jenna, I’m sorry. Questions must wait,”
She puts one hand on my free shoulder, but the raven squawks, causing her to remove it quickly.
I’m deposited into an empty classroom with stone walls and told not to leave until somebody comes to get me. The raven and I are in there alone, studying each other.
“I suppose it’s customary to name a familiar, huh?”
The bird looks at me like I’m dumb, which I must be because I’m talking to an animal. Granted, familiars are sources of magic, but they are still animals in the end.
“Apollo seems like a decent name I suppose. Would that be acceptable for you?”
“I suppose,” a deep voice comes from the bird direction startling me.
“Did you just talk to me?” I scramble away from this strange creature.
“Of course I did Jenna, now listen we don’t have much time. I am a daemon-“
“A daemon?”
“I said listen,” he looks as annoyed as a bird can, “Somebody is going to come and try to tell you that I am dangerous, but I’m not going to hurt you Jenna. You have been chosen. There’s a prophecy, hundreds of years old, that spoke of a girl with unimaginable power who will unite with the king of the daemons and rule over both races with an iron fist. I am his messenger. You must go to him as soon as you can. Jenna, this is your destiny, you must listen to me. Do not tell anybody about this conversation, it will only bring you harm-“ he’s interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hall.
The door opens and a man in a cloak comes sweeping in with a dragon slinking behind him.
“Good morning, you are Jenna, I presume?” He addresses me cordially, but something about him puts me on edge. I stand to greet him and bow to show respect.
“Yes sir,”
“Pleased to meet you. I am Xavier, and I am a member of the Royal Guard. Jenna it seems you have gotten involved in a bit of a difficult situation,” he looks at Apollo pointedly, “Do you know anything about this kind of familiar?”
“A raven? Not particularly, I know that this one is mine, but not much more,”
“Interesting,” the man strokes his beard, “Has your familiar done anything unusual?”
“No sir, my teacher was unsettled by his appearance and I gather that this is not the usual protocol when a familiar is found, but none have been his doing,”
“Yes, you’re quite right. Jenna, would you accompany me to the palace tomorrow morning? I believe that you may require an audience with the king,”
“The king, sir?” My eyebrows raise in surprise. Nobody has an audience with the king unless they’re one of his own kind. Our king was known for being ruthless and bloodthirsty, part of the reason the kingdom is in shambles and my people are dying.
“Yes, the king would be fascinated by a witch of your caliber and your familiar needs to be addressed. Pack your bags tonight, my messenger will retrieve you tomorrow at dawn, please be ready,” He gets up and walks out the door without another word.
That night I pack my bags, but slip out of the room long before dawn. With Apollo on my shoulder and the essentials slung across my back I go in search of the Daemon King. It’s time to dethrone the monster that is my own king.
Edit:
Hi all! I wasn’t expecting anybody to read this, much less like it and ask for more! Thank you for being so nice to me, I really can not tell you how much your kind words have impacted me! I’m working on adding more, and as soon as I have a decent chunk I’ll put it on Wattpad and link it here. (Wattpad because I can’t think of anywhere else to post writing haha). It will hopefully be sometime within the next 48 hours. Thank you all again, it really does mean so much to me :)
Edit 2:
Here's the link! https://www.wattpad.com/1096339928-rise-of-the-witch-queen-prologue Thank you guys so much for being so nice to me! | Zargossa swallowed her cough, and jumped in her chair. Her eyes glanced left and right. *Nobody saw that, good.*
"You're really excited aren't you?" James said from behind Zargossa, loud enough for the class to hear.
She swallowed, and turned around in her chair to meet his sly smile. *Why is this boy so obsessed with me?*
"I'm pretty excited," she said silently.
"Me too," James almost shouted, "I reckon I'll get a d-"
The door burst open, Proffessor Widdleburg marched into the room. The room became silent quicker than a dragon blinked. He put down the heavy ancient book he was reading on the table in the fornt of the classroom, and looked at us. Proffessor Laydo followed after, her small green feet waddling through the room.
"Today we are going to summon our familiars," he began abrubtly, but was interrupted by Laydo.
"Isn't it better if we have a quick repetion first?" Her light voice made Zargossa's ears hurt.
"If you insist. Familiars are magical in nature, they are as we very well know, the creatures. we draw our magic form. Is that sufficient?"
"It is sufficient."
"Summoning them is simple, all you have to do is draw magic to your heart, and utter "come my familiar" in magicus,"
The class sat silent.
"Zalios Thalios, you fucking goblins."
"How dare you Widdleburg!" Professor Laydo snapped, personally offended.
"My Aplogies. Anyway, you may begin."
*You may begin,* Zargossa parroted automatically, and Widdleburg stared at her with ire. Her face turned red, quickly realizing she had said it out loud.
There was a fluffy small drake, the size of a dog, in the front of the classroom. Angelia had succeded in summoningher familiar. She didn't smile, for her this was expected.
"Falios Casalios," James burst out behind her. *It's Zalios Thalios you fool!*
Zargossa focused on her own table, her notebook, her heartbeat. She had to bring magic to her heart. A task easy for some, harder for others, complicated for Zargossa. Most people described magic as blood they controlled, but Zargossa felt snowflakes where her magic was.
She closed her eyes, time dissapearing and pulled the snowflakes towards her hearth. It tickled as the magic sprinted to her heart from every direction. She could feel her heart turn cold, squish and bubble.
"Zalios Thalios," she said and nothing came out.
She looked around the classroom. The other students had already summoned their familiars, even James had done it. *How long was I gone?* She focused. Some students seemed sad, dessipointed whilst others were happy and satisfied. She saw golden dragons with long mustaches and black chimeras and majestic griffins.
She was really excited to find out what hers was.
"*Zalios Thalios," she commanded both in thought and will.*
A cloud appeared in front of her. The cloud dissipated and she was left with a white raven. It's beak had a beak the colour of coal, and it's claws were brutally sharp. It stared at her. *A white raven, I've never heard of a white raven.*
"A white raven, that's the worst one possible, hahahahah!" James shouted and Widdleburg jerked his head away from Angelia.
"Oh great white dragon," Widdleburg exlaimed.
Laydo shuffled forward to her desk.
"This is disgusting," Laydo shouted.
"What?" Zargossa managed, something clouding her throat. Perhaps it was anxiousity from having everyone's attention, or perhaps it was fear from seeing the teachers so shocked.
"You fucking child! Did you have to come here and learn magic?" She spat, spit flying all over the desk.
Zargossa teared up.
"What's happening?" Zargossa said, the clot in her throat growing larger.
The crow flapped it's wings. It's masters feelings distressed it.
"You stupi-" Laydo was interrupted by Widdleburg.
"Stop it Laydo this is not her fault."
"What's my fault?" Zargoss asked.
"The white raven signalls the beginning of the end." | 2021-07-06T16:42:52 | 2021-07-06T12:59:33 | 120 | 16 |
[WP] You're a regular office worker born with the ability to "see" how dangerous a person is with a number scale of 1-10 above their heads. A toddler would be a 1, while a skilled soldier with a firearm may score a 7. Today, you notice the reserved new guy at the office measures a 10. | "And you see, Miss Spencer, that's why I no longer eat corn."
Robert finished his story with a large breath from his oxygen deprived lungs and sat back in his chair. He looked quite satisfied with having ruined my lunch hour due to his stomach churning medical tale.
I pushed my salad away and politely smiled.. "That's nice Bob." I said, glancing at the 7 above his head.
Robert was the oldest of the employees at the office, and the most dangerous in terms of my creepy number scale vision. When I first met him, I couldn't help being on edge. I'd never met anyone with a danger level above an 8. I came to find out that old Bob was a war veteran and participating in this medial work kept him sane. He was harmless, just physically capable of hurting someone if he wanted. I figure if he ever were to snap his number would sky rocket to a 10.
"Jill! Jill!" Kerry's face poked around the corner, her blonde hair a curly mess around her face. I've learned from my 21 years of existence that the number my gift sees is based off of a mixture of physical and mental danger. My dear friend Kerry is a whooping combined number of 2. Needless to say she's a pushover and overly nice.
She's the only one that knows of my secret. When I told her about it she wouldn't leave me alone, asking me question after question. She wanted to know everyone's number; including my own. Which is the only one I cannot see. Of course I don't consider myself dangerous, but I wish I knew what the universe numbered me.
I excused myself from Bob's presence and met a gleeful Kerry in the hallway. "What's up?" I asked.
"You know how they hired that new guy?" I nodded, "Well guess who gets to train him?" She smiled widely.
I grinned along with her. Kerry loves when she's given large tasks. It makes her feel like people like her.
"That's great Ker!" We began to walk side by side towards the cubicles. "Let's meet him then."
"I'm not gonna lie, he's kinda cute and super polite. I'm just so happy I get to do this. Did you know-" I started to tune out her rambling as we rounded the corner.
It was then that I saw him.
A tall man, lean with neatly styled brown hair and dark eyes. A spinning 10 above his head.
He looked right at me.
My blood ran cold. My entire body froze and my face drained of color. Our eyes were locked across the room and it was only after my initial panic that I noticed he was having the same reaction. He was white as a ghost and his eyes were as wide as saucers.
"What the hell?! Jill? Is he dangerous?! Jill!" Kerry was babbling shrilly besides me and grabbing onto my arm. I ignored her.
"He's a 10.." I said under my breath. At almost the same moment I saw his lips move.
"She's a 10." He said.
And that was it. We were sucked in.
| "Brittany!" Amanda hissed. "Look, look!"
And there he was: a short, nerdy-looking guy. Disheveled hair, glasses, a wrinkled shirt. "Looks like he could use a shower," I said, apathetically, turning back to the computer.
"Oh, come on. We all could use a shower."
"Well, if government hours weren't so bad, maybe we'd have the time --" I stopped dead. Something caught my eye. The number over his head -- it had two digits...
10.
I grabbed Amanda's arm, and she saw the fear in my eyes.
"Wait -- seriously? *That* guy? Is he like that 7 you saw on the news, who shot his entire family or whatever?" She took a sip of coke. *Sluuuurrrp.*
I peered over the top of the cubicle, every muscle in my body frozen with terror.
Her tone shifted. "Let's not freak out. Maybe it's an accident. Like maybe he crashed into a bus, by mistake, and everyone died. Or maybe he's going to do something terrible like 20 years from now." She tugged at my skirt. "Brittany?"
I took a seat. "You're right. I'm freaking out for no reason." I closed my eyes, leaned back in my seat, and took deep breaths.
"Hey, that's weird."
"What?"
"I've been logged out." She clacked at the keys; the computer beeped angrily back. "I can't log in."
My eyes flew open. I hurriedly typed in my own ID and password. *Beep.* "I can't get in either --" I stood up, my heart racing -- "He must have broken into the system, Amanda, and --"
"But the system -- it has classified information -- access to *everything* --"
I glanced at the cubicle.
He was gone.
---
r/CSDouglas | 2017-12-08T13:03:32 | 2017-12-08T11:53:32 | 126 | 18 |
[WP] A man who has been dating a girl since elementary school goes to her father for her hand in marriage. The father says no. Tell us why and break our hearts. | Jake’s heart was hammering in his chest. He could feel his pulse in this throat and his mouth was dry. He had never been this nervous and excited at the same time. This was a huge step. His life would be changing drastically in the next few minutes.
He knocked on the door and her mother answered. She has her mother’s eyes and cheekbones. She looks a lot like her mother which, in this case, was a good thing. She would age gracefully as they lived their lives together. Her mom invited him in without a word. Jake asked to speak to Don, her dad, but said that it would actually be nice if they were both there. She led him to the living room where Don sat watching TV.
On his way to the couch Jake saw the picture that hung on the wall. It was of him and Emily when they were six-years-old making mud pies together in the yard. It made him smile. He took a seat on the couch and said he had something important he needed to ask them. Don shut the TV off and they gave the young man their full attention. “I have come here today to ask for your permission to marry Emily.” He told them. “I have a ring, and I recently got a promotion at work. I know in my heart I can give her good life. I can be a great husband to her. I can’t imagine my life without her in it.”
Emily’s mom immediately started crying, but these weren’t tears of joy. Her chest heaved with wracking sobs. Don stood up and went to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. A tear leaked out of his left eye as he struggled to be strong. After a moment Emily’s mom’s crying calmed.
“I’m sorry son. You know there is no way I can say yes to you. This can’t be,” Don finally said to him.
“Don’t you like me?” Jake asked.
“You know we love you,” Don replied.
“Then why a no?”
“Jake, we have been over this before. You can’t keep showing up here like this. You need to see someone and get some help. You need to take steps to move on.”
Jake was shocked by his words. “Move on from what? I love her and I want to spend my life with her.”
“Son, you know that Emily died two months ago. You were at her funeral. You have to let her go. She isn’t with us anymore. I know your heart is broken, but when you show up here acting as if she is still alive it breaks our hearts even more. Jake, Emily is gone. You can’t marry her. I know it hurts, but you have to accept it.”
Stunned by their words, Jake silently stood and began walking for the door. As he stepped outside he put a hand in his jacket pocket and closed it around the box that held the ring. He stumbled to his car where he sat in silence for several minutes then he reached into his other pocket and pulled out a piece of cloth. He put what was left of the scarf Emily was wearing on that day to his mouth and nose and took a deep breath. It still smelled like her. He pulled the box from his pocket, wrapped it in the remains of the scarf and stuffed them both into his jacket pocket then he started the car and pulled out of the driveway. Maybe next week they would understand. Maybe next week they would say yes.
| "Mister Jameson?" I peeked my head around the corner of the kitchen. Karen's dad was fiddling with another *dohickey* at the table.
"Matthew!" He pulled his glasses from his face and let them dangle on their chain. "Come in, my boy. How are you?"
I sat on the seat he had pulled out for me. My palms sweated. "I'm... I'm fine, Mister Jameson. How are you?"
"Oh, you know. Same old story." He leaned in to me and whispered: "Keeping out of Julia's way and trying not to get oil everywhere." He chuckled and winked at me before peering into the *dohickey* down his nose. I let out a quiet cough of laughter.
"Mister Jameson, I have a question for you. I - Please let me finish, Mister Jameson - I hope it doesn't come as much of a surprise to you but I want to take Karen's hand in marriage. Have I got your blessing?" I gripped my knees and heaved the rest of the air from my lungs.
Mister Jameson placed his *dohickey* on the table and sombrely wiped oil from his hand on his check shirt before rubbing one over the bald of his monk's haircut. "No."
My vision blurred and the air turned sour. My mouth hung slightly agape.
"It's not my decision, Matthew. I think you're a great kid. Trust me on that. But Julia... she thinks you're odd. Karen hasn't as much as kissed another man in her life. She doesn't have the experience she should have, according to Julia that is. You've been together now for twenty years and I wish, wholeheartedly, that I could say yes. But one day when you have your own wife you'll know that it is easier to keep them happy."
I tried to eek out a few words, "I... erm..."
"I think, Matthew, it's time for you to go. Good evening." He returned to the *dohickey*.
"Good evening, Mister Jameson." | 2014-01-19T15:01:42 | 2014-01-19T14:13:55 | 84 | 11 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | Captain's Log Number 62. 0600, Day 25 after commencement of Operation Swordfall.
This is a message from Knight Captain Zerraxi Rascirson of the recon relay ship "HMS Percifus" to all ships of the Empire. Anyone who picks up this message is to forward it immediately to the Ozirian Imperial high command and his Majesty.
Operation Swordfall has resulted in the worst possible outcome thought impossible by the simulations. Primitive occupants of planet E4R5 in galaxy T087 of the Xenolan cluster have advanced down a tech tree much different than our own. All of our musketmen were decimated within 20 minutes of contact by repeating muskets which each achieved a fire rate per minute equivalent to an entire brigade. The ER45ians seem to either have extreme dexterity or have found alternate means of creating a mini Qylantem reaction without killing the operator. No further information about E4R5's muskets were obtained as all expeditionary forces with the exception of this vessel were wiped out. We survived only because we were on a routine recon mission near one of E4R7's moon.
Knights in orbit did not fare much better. The mothership was disabled by what could only have been suicide ships carrying solar fragments. The escort fleet suffered a similar fate. The fervor of our enemy burnt with such intensity that prompted them to lay down their lives without hesitation. Not 1 out of the 1008 suicide ships that struck the fleet showed any signs of hesitation. Not 1 deviated from their intended target. One even struck a city on the planet's surface which we believe the E4R5ians called Moscow. It would seem that they had the leisure to engage in infighting despite external threats.
It is now apparent that we have awakened what should have been left dormant. The scourge that is the natives of E4R5 were born in warfare. Molded by warfare. They have never known peace since their genesis. We merely adopted warfare after discovering the ability to propel our ships using Qylantem drives to beyond the speed of light. Of course we would be no match against these madmen who dedicated all their advancements to war.
This will be the last message broadcasted from the HMS Percifus. As of 0200 this morning, the 5 remaining crew have voted to take the only possible action to contain this scourge. The nearest reinforcements will take more than 3 years to arrive in this sector. By then it would be too late. They have boarded the mothership and it's only a matter of time before they can replicate the Qylantem drives. Our vessel does not have the fuel to make the jump to the nearest Ozirian outpost nor the food supply to hold out any longer. As Knights we will lay down our lives for the Empire rather than die a coward's death. Using the enemy's own tactics, we will accelerate the Percifus using all remaining fuel to just below the speed of light in a collision course with E4R5. This 7000 ton recon vessel should be enough to cause a chain reaction that will destroy the surface of the planet rendering it uninhabitable.
However, this will not be the end of the scourge. Those scum that have boarded the mothership, HMMS Resyus, will most likely survive and seek revenge. For the glory of the Empire, destroy them and not let the sacrifice of the expeditionary force be in vain.
Avenge us.
Captain Zerraxi out.
First prompt ever. Hope you guys like it.
Edit- Minor text fixes. | The metal walls shuddered around our squad as we hunkered in the dark, gripping the weapons we had so confidently prepared just hours before.
"Is that them?"
"Do you want to check?"
The walls shook again, and we cowered further into the corners. Where had this gone so wrong?
-0-0-
There was an exaggerated snort at the rear of the meeting room. The Captain of our band swiveled his eye stalks towards the offender
"What?"
"It's just," laughed a cadet, barely out of training, "this is a primitive society, right? They can't even travel to the next planet over. What kind of danger could they possibly be?"
The captain rolled his eyes in response. "Hey, did they ever teach you to expect the unexpected? Because you ALWAYS expect the unexpected. Even when we clearly have the upper hand."
"But sir, they don't even have space travel! We have gun powder! We have smelting! They don't stand a chance!"
-0-
His words echoed in my mind as the walls rattled a third time. Rattling meant something was coming loose. I scrabbled to my feet, knocking an eye against something hanging from the ceiling. "We need to move! We need to get out of here!"
With a resounding crash the wall in front of me folded in, and a monstrous beast of metal rolled directly towards where I now stood, rooted and shaking. Its bulk blocked out the sun that tried to peak around its edges, and a small barrel swiveled around to face me.
"Oh bugg-"
A tiny 'plink' echoed around the room. Cadet, in his brilliance, had fired upon the beast. The thin barrel swiveled around to stare him down, then spat metal at him so fast I didn't even see it reload. I couldn't believe how quickly, as if done by nanobots or, dare I say it, magic. I threw myself away and around, squeezing through the gaps towards sunlight.
There were humans. Many, many humans, in armor, with shields, with angry, angular muskets. They were all pointing at me. A terrible roar sounded, from something electronic, but I didn't understand. I dropped my own weapon in panic, but they did not move. | 2017-08-08T06:41:23 | 2017-08-08T05:59:13 | 889 | 67 |
[WP] You find a magic lamp. The genie isn't malicious but neither does it have knowledge of our modern times and inventions. E.g you wish for a helicopter and have to describe it, the genie delivers a weird giant bird with three wings on it's back. | The genie could have been Plato out of that Rafael painting. He had a long, white beard, and wore a blue toga draped over his arm. His head was almost bald, and beneath his arm he carried scrolls tied with ox leather strips.
He scratched his head. The smell that rose from the street in front of my house was incredible.
"When you said four hundred horse power," he said. "I didn't..."
"It's okay," I replied. "It's just, what am I going to do with the manure? The colour is a nice touch, though."
The horse closest to me neighed and tossed its mane. Its metallic red flanks glinted in the sunlight, nose the colour of treated leather looking soft as velvet.
"Did you like the girl, at least?" the genie asked nervously. He played with the fringe of his toga. "When you asked for a hot girlfriend..."
"Once I put the fire out, she was fine," I replied. "But she only speaks Greek."
"All the best girls are Greek," the genie replied, but he made a note on a scroll all the same. He tucked the quill back behind his ear.
"And her name's Helen?" I said tentatively.
"Might be," the genie shrugged.
"And she keeps asking to go to Paris?"
"For Paris, I believe." The genie blushed. He shuffled the scrolls and loose papers.
"I have one last request," I said. "Please try not to mess this up. It's not that I didn't like the Globe Theatre from the 1600s in my back garden--" (I'd asked to see a free show, but Shakespearan was incomprehensible) "Or the giant heap of wood you claimed was a flying machine."
"Da Vinci designed it!"
"They were lovely," I said. "But what I'd really like, is the trip of a lifetime. I want to see Rome... The Coloseum, the ancient roads."
"Trip of a lifetime, eh?" the genie tested out the modern idiom on his tongue. I immediately knew I'd made a mistake.
"No, wait--" I cried, but it was too late. A blinding flash of light; sand beneath my feet and a broadsword in my hands. The cheers of the crowd deafened me, and above it all I heard the cry:
"Release the lions!"
-----
/r/Schoolgirlerror | I heard that you can make my wishes be.
I thought you could give me some guarantee.
Whatever I wish, there will be just three
To make my dreams come true, Oh, dear Genie!
Yes sir, I like to make you guys happy,
But you must contain your wishes in three -
No recursion, no tricky treachery,
And if I do mess up, you could sue me!
Oh, I'm an Aladdin in modern time,
Who talks, blabbers and thinks in simple rhyme.
But I would like to have a little dime,
So that I can give up my life of crime.
To start with, instead of a carpet, dude,
I want a flying saucer, if I should.
It should be fast enough to take me out
To New York in 8 hours and roundabout.
*Genie starts doing something*
Oh here, my master, what you need!
*Genie presents Aladdin with a saucer, and a cup. The cup seems to contain some juice in it. The cup is labeled "Ketamin"
But wait, what a mischievous deed!
That's anesthesia it would bring,
'To take me out', not what I mean!!! | 2016-08-11T08:53:21 | 2016-08-11T08:25:08 | 270 | 11 |
[WP] Aliens are afraid to invade Earth. Not because of humans but because our solar system is a nest for 8 Guardians/Leviathans. | "Believe it or not, there are still some that remembered the age before the Leviathans. Troubling times when men had no common enemy, turning at each other for pitiful personal gain. Then The Outsiders came. Some had expected them and eagerly decoded their messages while others prepared for the only real outcome. However their true intentions became clear. They saw it coming, but had no means to defend themselves from asteroids send hurdling towards Earth.
The bombardments lasted for months, most major cities destroyed and it seemed to be the eve of humanity's destruction. In our time of need, many prayed. And our prayers were answered! It is unclear why or when the first Guardian came, but the world saw him race towards The Outsiders. His mighty tail swiping away incoming asteroids, His smooth, grey skin was too hard to be hurt and His powerful jaws ripped into The Outsider's hull finally ending the threat. However the number of lost were devastating.
After the threat was defeated, He began to move towards Earth. We welcomed out savior with open arms, and the first Guardian saw us. He saw how we had suffered, how we should have been broken, and He saw something unique to humans, something *special*. In His infinite wisdom and protective nature, He offered to let us use Him as a vessel to explore our unlimited potential. And now here we are, children."
The class cooed in awe in unison, looking all around them. They were the first generation to be born within the Leviathan's warm protection. The teacher smiled, adjusting her uniform and clearing her throat to get the class's attention.
"Now class, I want you to write about how much the Leviathan means to you, and remember to pick a name off of the wall for your report. We must not forget those who came before us!"
The class responded in unison, and began to sit up from the worn carpet and grab their bags, queuing at the door to return to their family quarters.
Walking home, a young boy stops and feels the cold, hard ground. He can hear the faint sensation of pumping. He smiled as he said a thankful prayer for the Guardian before continuing on his way.
The rest of the galaxy might fear the Leviathans, but humans had become the nightmares of the Leviathans. The thin, pale shadow of their brother acted as a grim reminder of humanity's ambition. The lobotomized beast drifted in the emptiness of space with one destination in mind: The Outsider's homeworld. | Eight planets?! What is wrong with these creatures? Don't they know what Pluto is? How can they show such disrespect?
Well, sir, I don't think they know what any of them are.
They don't? How could they not know? They've only been the Nanny for the last several billion years.
The bi-peds have only been there for a couple of million years and they aren't the smartest caretakers. Surely if they knew they wouldn't be transmitting that Reality TV stuff to the eggs, or plundering the resources the babies will need to live.
Should we intervene?
If you remember we have tried to intervene, but the Guardians won't let us. They think we are still angry at being rejected for the job.
Well, we should have been hired. Who knows what the next generation of Guardians will be like. Should we just destroy them?
Last time we tried that sir the Guardians made our star go supernova. They seem to have some kind of thing for these humans.
Well we'll find out in a couple of Sol years anyway. When did you say Jupiter is ready to hatch?
Near the middle of the Sol year sir, a date the humans call May 9th.
| 2018-02-05T20:21:52 | 2018-02-05T16:33:05 | 30 | 20 |
[WP] Some say that your power is future sight. Others insist that you have superhuman intellect. They're wrong. Your power is the ability "Quicksave." | Loading state 2521632-C...
“-will be finished! now you die!”
Dodge left, duck, dodge right, retaliate punch, kick, backflip onto platform.
“Impossible! How could you have predicted my attacks so well? I took every liberty to make sure you couldn’t!”
“Well I’ve already seen this fight hundreds of times, and I must say, you are a difficult opponent, but I simply can’t lose.”
“Oh ya? Then try this!” *dr. Evil presses a button, a turret activates and fires on the hero*
“Oh shi-“
Loading state 2521632-C...
“-will be finished! now you die!”
Dodge left, duck, dodge right, retaliate punch, kick, backflip onto platform.
“Impossible! How could you have predicted my attacks so well? I took every liberty to make sure you couldn’t!”
“Well I’ve already seen this fight hundreds of times, plus, that turret is slow to activation, giving me enough time to duck behind this barrier.”
“Oh ya? Then try th- wait, how did you know about the turret? Doesn’t matter you die anyways!”
Saving... save state 2521632-D created.
*dr. evil presses a button and another turret activates and fires on th-*
Loading state 2521632-D...
“-ie anyways!”
*dr. evil presses a button and another turret activates, but the hero dives towards dr. Evil to try and press the button to deactivate the turret... he misses.*
“Dang this might take a few tries”
51 save state reloads later...
*-the hero dives towards dr. Evil to try and press the button to deactivate the turret, he hits the button and the turrets is down*
“FINALLY!”
Saving... save state 2521632-E created.
“What? IMPOSSIBLE! grrrr, well no matter, I still have one trick left. I’ve been analyzing you abilities, and I’ve developed this special weapon, just for you!”
*dr. Evil pulls out a gun with special markings on it.*
“Say goodbye mr hero!”
*before the hero could react, dr. Evil fires a laser at them*
“Fu-“
Loading state 002521632-E... save corrupted, attempting data restoration... restoration failed. Loading most, uncorrupted save... Loading state 1-A...
“He’s so beautiful.” She said as the doctor hands her the newborn baby.
*thinking* “wait... did that laser corrupt all my saves? Am I an infant again? Oh for fu-“ | “The Geek Shall Inherit the Earth”
I grew up in the eighties, a time of chronic blue screen of death for PCs and Macs alike. A freak accident landed me in the hospital. Doctors didn’t think I’d survive. Two months in a coma, and I woke up right as rain.
Better in fact: I now had what some describe as a superpower. I could get any PC to quick-save before crashing. What did that mean in practice? Countless files not lost, saving millions for my newfound consultancy’s clients.
Some called me the PC whisperer. Others thought I had a superhuman intellect. The strangest ones thought I was a psychic. But nope, I had the power to save documents from the myriad PC crashes at the time.
Later, as my powers and skills developed, I could do more. Rapid PC repair, virus extraction, and speeding up processors were all simple for me. Some of these skills I could even teach others. They might not have the gift of quick-save, but regular repairs and maintenance were infinitely learnable.
In practice, this meant I could scale my business with great speed as the PC market boomed. As a nod to the names I was called, I called my company the Geek Squad. Rich beyond my wildest dreams, my accident changed my life for the better.
Edit: thank you kind stranger, for the award! | 2020-12-15T13:22:34 | 2020-12-15T13:10:16 | 2,756 | 135 |
[WP] You are a wish lawyer. You help clients negotiate wishes from genies, faeries, dragons, and other wish granting entities.
You also do faustian bargains with devil
Edit: Woo! I finally made it to the top of writing prompts! | "Alright, listen carefully. This is very important. I am on my way, but it's going to take me about 6 hours to get from New York to South Dakota. There are some things I will need you to do. First, shut your mouth. No talking, no matter what. Second, find yourself some benadryl. Over the counter. If you don't have it, buy it. Take 6, then lay down and go to sleep. When I get there, we will talk further. Leave a key under the doormat. But no matter what, don't talk!"
I hung up, and put my phone in the TSA security tray. Djinn were the worst. Very liberal with what they considered a "wish", and always listening. Last client I advised with one, the poor bastard used all 3 wishes in the time it took me to get across town. Upside, they were relatively straightforward, not as many monkeys paw scenarios, long as you followed the rules. Hopefully, this kid could follow instructions.
I arrived on scene about 7 hours later. Kid was still sleeping. I grabbed my briefcase, got out of the uber, and walked to the front door. God, I hated small towns. They all reeked of desperation and manure. The key was there, and I let myself in.
Lamp was next to the kid's bed. Middle eastern in origin. Kid lucked out. Some of the djinn from East Asia were much more limited in ability. Maybe 1 in 100 cases have this much potential.
When the kid awoke, I was sitting in a chair across from him, contract on the table. I spoke immediately, as far too many people don't keep their wits about them when they wake. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty! Don't go opening your mouth just yet; we'll get to that in a minute. First, payment. If you'll be so kind as to autograph the standard agreement, we can begin."
The kid was hesitant, a bit uncomfortable. Guess he's not used to waking up with a stranger watching him. No matter. He read the agreement, signed his name. Will Bryant. Excellent.
"First, the rules. All wishes are governed by a few, shall we say, guiding principles. You can't wish for more wishes. If you try, all your wishes will be cursed, and you do NOT want a cursed wish. Remember the giant candy mascot in NYC a couple decades back, killed like 75? Don't answer that. Cursed wish. Stay puff something or other.
"Next, you can control actions, not feelings. No wishing for love, or the like. The best you'll get is a homicidal maniac collecting your hair while you sleep.
"Finally, djinn are a special case. They aren't malevolent, but they are literal. So I will have you write down what you want, and then I will text you the words to read, exactly."
The whole process took an hour. Kid wanted fame and adoration, had to direct him to wishes for skill and charisma. Fame is emotion, when you get right to it. He went for skill in acting. Pretty standard, more than a couple Hollywood regulars got their start with me. His final wish was boring, wealth. I advised gems, as they are easy to pull from the earth and refine. Easier to do means more can be done. Thanked Will, took the lamp, and shook his hand. After that, I was on my way.
Outside, while waiting for my ride to the airport, I ran one clawed finger down the lamp, leaving a minor scratch, before muttering a few words and sending it away. I carefully placed the contract into my briefcase, and smiled. Will would have his run, then we would have ours. Consulting is such an easy racket in the soul game. Haven't had to waste my own ability to grant power in decades. And I don't care whether you're a djinn or a goddamn sphinx. Nothing fucks with a devil's bargain. | "We've been over this Karen. There is no way to wish for more wishes. You get one wish. One," I sighed.
Out of all my clients, she was the slowest to understand. Most people went for healing sick family members or flight. After all even genies got sick of calculating the richest person in the world to add a tiny amount extra. Besides the economy suffered from the constant shifting of gold. One day it is theirs and the next day someone else had the same pile of gold in their backyard.
"Remember you want something that will bring you joy or fulfillment. Don't ask for money. Or something you can get easily," Karen pressed her hands against my desk trying to pout her way into a bad decision.
"But I can't decide. I want everything!" Karen said. Her eyes bright but she still didn't understand I had no interest in her beyond the fee. Written into the wish were a standard payment of goods for my use. Generally food or supplies. Never money.
"As I mentioned before, if you are satisfied then I can set you up with my other magical contacts. So really there is a chance of other wishes," I hated repeating myself but Karen thought I'd change my mind. If she hadn't come in with an unknown genie, then I'd have refused her business.
However, she had managed to come into contact with one of the desert genies. Ancient magic that is untested. The challenge to provide even more elaborate experiences had me biting my tongue. I so wanted to kick Karen out of my office.
Yet, my regular clients would pay top dollar to live as a Sultan for a day. To experience life in the time of Pharohs or to taste handmade delicacies that no longer existed. Genies can only provide what they know. I had one on my roster that had been in space that had me set for life. If only another one hadn't seen me unlock my safe, then I'd be holed up and retired. Yet, that had set me back 10 years. Any money a genie saw could be granted to another.
A detail Karen couldn't understand. She had appeared with a bagful of cash. Anyone could have seen it outside. As we talked, I felt the familiar feeling of magic. Karen had been robbed. Her purse looked empty on the floor. Probably by one of my contacts, I smiled.
"If you really can't decide, then why not wish for gold or money. It's not for all my clients, but I think for your case it may be best," I said. At my words, Karen smiled.
"I just knew I could have it all with your help!" Her giggle sent a chill down my spine, but she had to learn the hard way. Wishes don't come easy.
| 2018-07-18T16:02:05 | 2018-07-18T13:56:06 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "Idiot fuk human design shit-tier spaceship get all Brogga friend kill't. End all. Stoopt fuk. E'ryon kno warp spacetime. E'ryon kno break litspeeding. E'ryon kno crate warm hole. E'ryon kno cut mass half. E'yron cept idiot fuk humans. Y d'sign dumb shit-tier drive can't fi'ure out nuttin'. Cant warp spacetime. Cant break litspeeding. Cant crate warm hole. Cant cut mass. 'Stead idiot fuk human burrow down subquark stangelet bullshit risk implode entire quadrant for fuk newmatter. Y? Too dumb, tha's y. Now Brogga stuk dumb idiot fuk human ship on oth'r side galactic spinward fr'home. Idiot fuk human get Brogga kill't, get Brogga friend kill't..."
The muttering was cut off by a bang, followed by curses unutterable by the tongues of men. Poor old Brogga had been clanking about underneath the hullward dash for the last three days, almost without a break, muttering the entire time.
Say what he would, Brogga was nothing short of a mechanical genius, being the only Broggan capable of working on the Subquark-plated external combustion Engine. It took a particularly pliable mind to make an external combustion engine work, particularly when one was compressing- and burning- pure vacuum. The only real downside was the slight chance of creating decay, but if that happened it wouldn't matter as the entire tanker would be destroyed within seconds. I supposed it would have mattered to the rest of the Universe, but Brogga wouldn't have cared for he would have been the first to go.
Well, okay, there was a second slight problem. See, by burning pure vacuum they wore away a little strip of the cosmos. It was so small that it probably didn't matter, and the Universe was expanding anyways, but certain routes did get more traffic and engines were getting more efficient all the time.
"Idiot fuk human shit design fuk"
More clattering and banging from underneath the hullward dash.
"Idiot fuk human, try now"
Brogga's curses were rewarded with a shuttering rumble as the external combustion engine roared to life.
"Well that's curious" Captain Froy remarked, staring in disbelief at the guages.
Normal external combustion engines were able to operate somewhere between 10,000% and 100,000% efficiency, and for every joule of vacuum energy burned 100% efficiency would yield 10 kilo-joules.
The digital display read 10^89 % efficiency.
"Brogga, I think this gauge is busted."
"Idiot fuk human replace it then. Brogga sleeps."
Then, with customary swagger Captain Froy shoved the throttle open and pulled out, easing back into his seat for a cozy nap. However, when Captain Froy awoke several hours later he was not where he expected. In fact, he was not sure where he was at all.
You see, Brogga had accidentally upgraded their engine. Nobody saw the display, but if they had, they would have seen Brogga, Froy, and the rest of the crew tearing ass across the Universe, ripping a cosmic-scale gash in the vacuum like God's holy zipper. Of course this hole rapidly closed up, but in the time it would normally take them to travel a few hundred lightyears they had soared clear of the "observable Universe" several times over.
In fact, they had traveled so far they weren't entirely sure how to get back.
Thus began the journey of Brogga and the idiot fuk humans who wasted 600 years of his life and destroyed his capacity to speak properly. | The First Ambassador to Humanity swirled idly in its container and moved to the next item on its list.
"Your FTL technology", it asked the panel of assembled human leaders, "How does it work?"
The humans exchanged surprised looks. The one at the end of the panel eventually speaking.
"You mean the Confounder?"
"If that is what you call it, yes."
"Well it... it slows the light down."
The First Ambassador frowned. Or at least, it came as close to frowning as one can when one is a mass of liquid in a hermetically sealed tank.
"I do not understand", it replied, "How does this help?"
It was a different human who replied this time, the large one at the head of the panel
"It slows the light down so we can overtake it", he snapped. "What's so hard to understand about that?"
The Ambassador thickened as it took a moment to process this statement.
"This... does not reduce your travel time".
"Who said anything about that?", the chief human asked irritably. "It's not about getting places, it's about showing the light who's boss! It's about proving a point!". He jabbed his thumb against his chest. "We wanted to be the fastest thing in the universe, and now we are!".
The Ambassador thickened further, rapidly losing faith in this species' fitness to join the intergalactic community.
"Let me rephrase my question," it said. "You received a summons to this meeting approximately five of your days ago. How did you travel the light years between this point and your planet in that time?".
"Ooh". A third human spoke this time. "It wants to know about the Shuffle".
A collection of mutters resounded among the rest of the panel, the large one saying something about "...not really *travel* is it?". Once they had stilled the third human continued speaking.
"It's quite simply really. Getting to faraway places is hard, so the Shuffle just swaps bits of space around until the part we want is next to us". She gave the Ambassador a vacant smile.
Its slow swishing motion gradually stilled as understanding set in. The ships that found themselves light years from their destination, stranded without food or air. The civilised worlds torn from their orbits and flung into deep space. The black holes appearing from nowhere, devouring entire star systems of inhabited plants. Literally boiling with anger, the First Ambassador closed it's communication channel to the humans and opened a new one to the Galactic Council.
*There would be war* | 2017-03-31T12:19:53 | 2017-03-31T06:39:01 | 37 | 25 |
[WP] The healer was treated horribly by the knights he was assigned. Belittled and humiliated at every turn. Until one day a monster killed his squad and spared him. And the monster looked at him and she said something he didn't think was possible to even say. "Would you please heal me?". | "Would you please heal me?"
I stared at it, shaken, and confused.
"Wha.. what did you say?" I muttered weakly.
"Uh.. I asked would you please heal me. You didn't lose your hearing did you?" The monster said, rather bluntly, but at the same time offering a smile to conceal the seriousness of the question. "Please?"
I stood up, and brushed the accumulation of blood, dirt, and whatever else was staining my red pants off of me. I had been sitting on the ground, arms behind me as if I was scooting away from something, but frozen by the chaos that I saw before me.
"That's the first time I've heard that word before." I said in a serious manner, and while looking around for hat.
"What, please?" He said. I looked at him, and my expression gave him his answer. "Where I'm from, healers are regarded above our warriors, and praised as such."
I looked it deep in its eyes. It had crystal blue eyes, and pale skin, very pale, like the color of flour, but maybe just a tad darker. Its hair was brown like tree bark, and no longer than its ears. It also sported a short, but thick beard. It was significantly taller than me.
I finally asked, "what do you call your kind?"
It chuckled and looked down, then met my gaze again, and said "we call ourselves humans. Is that enough to get me that heal?"
I could see that it was bleeding from its side, or more precisely its right abdomen. I shook my head in agreement, and proceeded to approach him. I took one last look to make sure I was the last of my kind left.. By the look of it, there weren't more than 3 of his kind left either.
Upon reaching him, he extended his hand out to me. I stepped on top of it, and he held me steady next to his wound.
He asked, "what did you say your name was?"
I hesitated, than answered stoically. "*I didn't. It's Papa. Papa Smurf.*" | The cleric gazed awestruck at the creature before him, his own knights had never treated him with such respect. "Heal you?" he asked, still unsure of what he had heard. His squad lay dead around him the smell of blood and carnage strong in the air. "I..."
A moment's hesitation was all it took for the decision to be made. The creature was injured and it was his calling to aid those in pain. His vows made no distinction between friend and enemy, no difference in the value of a life whether human or monster.
With his heart pounding in his chest he stepped forward and laid his hand on the wounded monster, the faint light eminating from his hand curing the creature of its pain. "A life is a life", he said, "it makes no difference to me". Once the creature was cured he turned away and strode off into the fading light, leaving nothing in his wake but silence. | 2020-02-23T14:40:38 | 2020-02-23T13:07:21 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] You and 5 other people awaken stranded on an Island, after some time you realise one of your companions may not be human. | "I don't think Borsia is human."
The tanned remnants of Hudson turned from his fishing pole to look at me. As conversation goes, I gave him a hell of an icebreaker.
"What kind of stupidity is that?"
I was never good with people.
"No, listen," I pleaded. "When was the last time you saw him drink water?"
He snorted. "Can't recall. And?"
Hell, *I* thought it was strange, but I had to make my case. "When we're gathering for our meals, or hunting in the forest, I have *never* seen him gulp one handful of water!"
There was a moment of wonder that flickered across his eyes. Then it disappeared quickly under a comment. "It's tasteless junk anyway."
Tasteless--- we were fighting for our survival! How can a man be picky about what they're drinking when there's so little else to drink?! What I'd give right now to be back on the flight with a beer right now watching a third re-run of Terminator! Well, *my* flight had Terminator on the program anyway, but even so---
Wait. *My* flight.
I didn't remember seeing the other four on that plane.
All four other survivors in fact didn't even look familiar from before I woke here.
On this island.
With no remnants of any airplane to be seen...
I didn't become a car salesman for my smarts, that much became obvious. But some pieces were finally coming together, now that I confided in the man by me with my worst fear.
In response to the sudden silence of my revelations, Hudson only scratched an armpit, then grabbed the fishing pole again and shook out the line.
I had it on good authority that he was ignoring me.
"Hey," I said. "I'm not crazy! Don't think I noticed the airplane parts aren't---"
"Airplane?" Hudson asked curiously, looking over the water.
The world froze. It was a hard time finding words in my confusion, but they came eventually. "What do you *mean* 'airplane?!' It's how we got here!"
"Again with the stupidity! You need to focus on your line Michael, or you'll miss---"
My pole dropped. It didn't matter if I caught anything anymore.
"Hudson, what the hell are you people?"
Again, Hudson snorted. "A Martian of Mer'Bast, like Borsia and the rest. Seriously, we warped down here with --- the other three." The last words came in a whisper. "Oh stars, you're not a vacationer are you?"
As a matter of fact, I wasn't.
I said as much to the tanned remnants of the former-man known as Hudson.
"Shoot," he said simply. "I knew something was off about you, chugging that awful stuff every day."
For once, we both agreed.
I was not a smart man to have realized this after two weeks with the same five people...
None of them drank water.
--------------------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | It's our 76th day on the island.
The island, if you can call it that, has made us friends.
"Hey, Tony," I say. "Today is Pi Day."
"We should celebrate," Tony says. "Let's have pizza."
This is unusual. Tony usually suggests that we eat Frosties. But I'm not complaining. A break from overly sugary cereal is always welcome.
Then Pop runs down from the lookout station. "Guys, there's a ship! We're saved!"
I stand up, and almost fall over from hunger.
"Let's light a fire," Tony says. We all gather dried seaweed and driftwood, the only organic things on this little volcanic rock we call home. The smoke rises frustratingly lazily in the humid tropical air, but the ship turns and comes towards us.
I fall to my knees, and start to cry like a baby.
---
"Report," the captain said.
"We double checked the island," the first mate replied. "But there was no sign of the companions he mentioned."
The captain grunted. "Man's obviously delusional."
"Sir?"
"The doc got their names out of him while you were back there. Tony, Cornelius, Crack, Snap, and Pop."
The mate looked puzzled. "The cereal box characters?"
The captain nodded. "Lack of food does strange things to a man's brain. He must have been so hungry that he invented them as companions."
Alone in his bunk that night, the first mate took a fragment bone out of his pocket and turned it over in his fingers. It was the end of a human phalange, one of the finger bones.
Tooth marks covered the surface, where a starving animal had ripped every last strand of meat from the bone.
The mate slipped it under his pillow, and tried to fall asleep.
---
*More stories at* /r/jd_rallage | 2016-03-07T07:57:01 | 2016-03-07T07:39:58 | 30 | 10 |
[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 reach out slowly, completely fixated on the button. It’s red with concentric grooves. Seems overly simple to stop someone called the Dark Lord. It doesn’t seem like it would be able to tell the difference between my finger or anyone else’s.
I stop and pull my hand back. “What are you doing?” the priest demanded, “ there isn’t much time!”
“Look, man, I don’t even know you and your telling me I’m some sort of chosen one meant to stop all sorts of evil and destruction? This button doesn’t even seem like it could tell me from anyone else.”
The priest began to laugh maniacally. “I thought this time I could get you to cause the end of the world. But no matter. There’s always next time.”
He leapt forward and slammed his fist into the button... | 2020-11-09T12:50:41 | 2020-11-09T11:12:56 | 949 | 80 |
[WP] Everyone has a superpower based on the topography of where they were born (IE: Mountains, deserts, etc.). You are the first person to be born in space.
Think Avatar the Last Airbender but not so limited.
Edit: Wow this really blew up! I'm gonna be entertained for a while! | I danced along the stars while the space in between sang its tune.
April 21st 2031. 1:00 AM PT. By the witching hour, when the last thoughts bled into the night and the last lamp was turned off, my high pitched scream tore through the air-filled space station. My father told me that it seemed as though my cry reached the very edges of space itself. And it did.
The stars whispered amongst themselves, telling the story of the girl who cried in the past, the present, and the future. They spoke of a child, as pure and as rough as a diamond, who could finally listen to the stories they yearned to tell.
There were never any children at the Starboard Station, and my mother died in childbirth--science wasn't advanced enough for a space birth. My father stayed with me till I was old enough to understand that he had to leave, even though that meant leaving me behind. I was kept company by the rotation of scientists and engineers in the Starboard. But mostly, I loved to listen to the planets and the stars, who sang of their birth and their deaths from millions of light years away. Space seemed to twinkle each time I passed a window or went out, pulsing with excitement to tell me of the brightest and darkest periods of their lives. They spoke in tones, high as the sounds of breaking ice and low as the grumblings of a waking volcano, and they spoke in colors. I always knew when something terrible or amazing happened by how dark the star seemed to be. It seemed as though they wanted us to see the worst as it was reflected against an unforgiving black canvas. And how the Earth had so much to say for such a young planet.
As it's light shone into the void, it told me of its birth and its death. I've never been able to repeat how it ends, and not because those on the Starboard would be disbelieving. But because it will be so absolute, so finite, so beautiful. The Heavens will be the orchestra, the lights will be the stage, and the void will be its audience. My power was to know that we are all but elements in an astounding play that is bound to end. | "So let me get this straight, you have space powers?" He blinks in surprise, "And I thought being born between a nuclear power plant and a company that makes things 'disappear' was weird."
"Sort of? I mean it's vague, but I think I can control gravity to the point I can make black holes and stuff." She says waving her hand in a nonchalant manner, "And don't get me wrong you were born in a weird place too. How come you get two powers?"
"Hey! It's not as cool as having space powers! Making stars and energy beams and stuff!" He shouts waving his hand wildly in the air, "It's like that weird priest guy from the weird manga I read!"
The girl snorts and goes into a weird pose and drawls, "Do you believe in gravity?"
The guy snorts and poses himself, "Time has been erased."
Both the girl and the guy collapse on the floor and start to laugh.
A normal day for two weirdos
| 2017-04-14T18:58:11 | 2017-04-14T18:29:05 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] Your bedroom became detached from reality and nothing is outside your door, but whenever you load a video game that world appears. Your game library is not conducive to a long and happy life, but the mini fridge is empty so you have no choice. You load up the safest game and gather supplies. | It wasn’t the best of games. Certainly wasn’t the worst, looking at you Bloodborne. But I was pretty sure I had a chance.
Sure, there was no toilet paper but It wasn’t the first time I didn’t have any. (Looking at you 2020). There were gonna be monsters and demons and dragons. Bandits and giant spiders. Ogres along with blood mages. Still, could be Bloodborne.
I always wanted to go on an adventure but I got rid of the Third Age when I was 15 and can’t save middle earth but Thedas was always my second choice.
Inquisition was too much of a bore and II was always a let down but Origins was the greatest of them all.
I selected the Human Noble origin. My favorite of all time. This time I decide to go by Aedan, figured if this was gonna be my new life. I’d go by the name the Couslands had picked.
I took a deep breath and went into my closet. My fridge might be bare but my safe was still full. I grabbed the mossberg first. The range may have been limited but Bessie would do the job in the opening siege.
Valerie and Linda were next, my AK and 1911. Classics but good ones. They’d help hold the main gate. I never did like leaving Gilmore to die. Dude was a bro until the end.
I take all the ammo I can carry and load it into my backpack. It’s just over 500 rounds. Not much but enough for the prologue. Even if I don’t live to see the end of it. I can’t find it in me to leave the Couslands. They didn’t deserve what happened. None of them did.
Eleanor
Bryce
Oren
Oriana
Hopefully, I’ll be able to stop Amethyne from becoming an orphan. (I was always disappointed they never included a storyline for her character. Would’ve made the Alienage-slavers more intense.)
Maybe this time, I’ll save them. If not, well, I can’t think of a better way to go than a blaze of glory.
With Bessie in my hands, I take one last look at home and make my way to Highever. I’m coming Howe.
Yippie-kai-yay mother f*****. | "Damn... If I go into Minecraft, I may be taking by a zombie. Pokemon won't work, nor Gacha Club. I'm sure as hell I'm not going into Cube Escape. Flappy Dragon won't do me much... That just leaves me with Obey Me.. Not the best option, but between zombies, creepers, and gaint ass spiders, I'm willing to take the risk of demons."
I load up the game and waited. I was unsure on how it will play out, but then, right outside my door, Simon was standing there. I click on the Tasks app of the game in hopes to start a the storyline from the very beginning. It worked to my surprise. I walk through the door and went with the storyline.
It was finally midnight and I know Beel wasn't in the kitchen. I snuck out and grabbed only small things that didn't seem to cost much. I get back to my room and went to the closet door and opened it. Just as I imagined, my real bedroom was right behind it. I walk through the door right before Lucifer comes into my other room. I close the door and exit the game on my phone. | 2022-06-07T20:15:19 | 2022-06-07T19:11:01 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] Group of space Marines travels via a stargate like portal to an "virgin" world. However due to passing a black hole, each Marine arrives 100 years after the Marine in front of them, instead of 1-5 seconds.
Due to the portal queuing up the dozen or so Marines for 1200 years, travel to point of origin is not an option(it won't work until all the marines have made it through). Explain what each Marine sees as they step out of the portal, to discover they are alone, and possible viewing the remains/artifacts of those who came before them, and or the civilization created by those in front of them with native peoples. | "Mommy, mommy tell me again the story about the twelve gods"
Sigh "ok sweetie but then its time for bed ok"
"Ok, so long ago there were twelve gods, and while they all knew each other they did not live at the same time, legends said that they just sprang into existence one day, the first god named Randy was saddened that his brothers did not join him, so he set out to make the land more enjoyable for his brothers, however even with all his work his brothers refused to show, after a while he discovered us, and taught us his language, this was the beginning of the first age."
"The first god took it upon himself to teach us how to build a society, the work was slow and some tribes choose another path, but we flourished, within decades a village was erected that would eventually become the city of Gateway, but while the first god was powerful he was not immortal, before he died he made laws and a prophecy, he proclaimed his brothers would visit our world, he could not tell us when only that they would need and provide guidance."
"The second god arrived fourteen years later, and while the village still thrived many had forgotten the first gods rules, when the second god arrived he was distraught, we brought him into the village and showed him the sacred texts, when he wished to see the first gods body some of the younger generation fought him, only to be struck down by thunder, while he calmed down after seeing the first gods body he also got more and more depressed, he had missed his brother, and arrived to soon for his other brothers to join him."
"It was late at night when the second god left, he spend the next few years in the jungles surrounding the village, hunters would occasionally see him, and tell story's about the beasts that he brought down, he was revered as a master of the hunt, and many of the techniques we still use today were created by him, after many years he returned to the village, behind him was a species that was normally aggressive, but for some reason he obeyed the hunters every command, the hunters remaining years were spend training other hunters and more of what he called pets."
"Mommy how did the second god die?"
"No one knows sweetie, one day he undertook a solo hunt and never returned, some say he still hunts the plains to this very day."
"Now the third god, he ......' | The first one would see a new world. The 2nd would see a flag marking a path to a place to take shelter.in the shelter there would be a Journal of the marine life. On the new world. 3rd see a sign showing him the way to the shelter. In the shelter there would be a starter kit. The help the new marine out . Something 2nd wishes the 1st did. There would be two journal now. The one that 2nd left. Give more info. To make it easier on the new marine. This keep happening the new marine. Has all the previous marine wisdom. By time the 12th marine ever thing has been done for him . Water wells has been doug. Really good house has been build. Food has been stored. Map have been drawn of place to see. Journal have been save to help them out in bad time. Flag is fly over the graves.TO MAKE IT SHORT 11 MARINE 1100 YEARS. BLOOD , SWEAT and TEARS. TO GIVE THE 12TH MARINE A VACATION. | 2014-09-02T14:24:23 | 2014-09-02T08:01:32 | 44 | 11 |
[WP] You are the ghost of a long deceased king, cursed to haunt the museum where your body resides. Which is especially annoying for you since the museum guides get all the facts about your reign completely wrong. | The Young King of Abedonne was the largest exhibit of the History Museum of Solace. Once a dedication to the man who united three countries under his banners during the Great Plague five hundred years ago. However, said King, who died after only twenty years on the throne, was unable to move on and insisted on watching over his daughter Victoria who inherited the crown too young at age fifteen.
But living on after death and watching the rise and fall of Abedonne, the history of his people twisted, and it made his heart wrench.
*“And here we have the young King Rafael of Abedonne, First of his Name and eldest son to Princess Ekaterina of Vinogradov who was forcibly married to the Devil of the Boria Mountains; Ser Rhys of the North, by her cousin King Alexander of Abedonne as a means of sealing a treaty. His birth was seen as a sign of doom for the days to come, as the people were scared that the Devil of the Boria could have any claim to the throne of Abedonne.”*
The young King banged his head against the plexiglass surrounding his tomb before screaming, “FOR THE HUNDREDTH TIME! MY FATHER WAS NOT A DEMON, NOR DID HE FORCE HIMSELF ON MY MOTHER! THEY LOVED EACH OTHER! HE SAVED HER FROM ASSASSINS AND RETURNED HER TO THE CAPITAL! UNCLE ALEXANDER GAVE HIS BLESSING AT THE WEDDING!”
*“King Rafael was known by many as the ‘White Serpent of Apfel’, primarily for his skills of sabotage and assassinations.”*
“I EARNED THAT TITLE FOR MY WORK AT THE APFEL HOSPITAL AND THE CREATION OF THE NEW NURSERY WARD IN HONOR OF MY DAUGHTER!” Rafael screamed, gesturing his spectral hands to the Rod of Asclepius on his personal banner that featured a white serpent.
*“The word ‘White’ was often placed in his various titles, hinting that he may have been albino.”*
“I will give you that one. That one was correct.” Rafael huffed.
*“Which was another sign to the people of Abedonne that he was cursed.”*
Rafael swore to the Heavens, Hells, and Inbetween if he ever crossed over, he was going to find which buffoon burned down Victoria’s Library two hundred years ago and cast them into the Pits himself. | I was to be the first true immortal. I was to convey the reality of my realm’s destruction through the generations. But despite the very best efforts of the best shamans in existence, it failed. I failed.
I have been wandering the world as something less tangible than a shadow for several thousand years now. Forever trapped between this world and the next. I watched as my domain crumbled and was swallowed by the relentless sands of time. I witnessed humankind grow ever more advanced as they found new materials and learnt more about how the world works. Even the wisest man of my time would be in awe of the knowledge now possessed by commoners.
Someone finally stumbled upon the ruins that were once my home. They got a lot of details about the people correct, but for some reason the details of my story eluded then. Every time they closed in on the truth, something would work to thwart their efforts. Was it part of my curse to be remembered as an arrogant extravagant narcissist? Would my true history as the first designated storyteller never be uncovered? Would people never hear tales of the humble king now known as Genghis Khan? | 2022-03-04T07:51:45 | 2022-03-04T05:55:27 | 34 | 16 |
[WP] A knight rescues a princess, expecting a kiss, a marriage, and a hefty inheritance. Problem is, the princess is eight years old. | The knight had been expecting a beautiful maiden. He was hoping for marriage along with a monetary reward. His hopes for that were squashed when he saw the princess.
The eight year old girl in the tower room did not seem perturbed by the knight bursting through the door spattered with blood. His sword, held at the ready, was also covered in blood. He'd killed a knight and half a dozen guards to reach the tower room.
"Did my father send you?" the child asked with a small voice. He was speechless and only managed a nod. She ran to his side and grabbed his gloved hand. "Thank you for rescuing me, sir."
The half a day journey to return to princess home was filled with constant chatter. Soon the knight's wish for any sort of reward was put out of his mind. She prattled on about anything and everything. If he hadn't known any better, he'd assume the young princess was smitten with him.
"Sir, I thank you for rescuing my daughter," the king said kindly after he finished hugging the princess and had passed her off to her mother. "Name your price and you shall be rewarded."
He felt the princesses eyes on him as he contemplated his answer. Even though he'd spent such a short amount of time with the child, he felt oddly protective of her. He knew what he had to say.
"Your grace, I only ask to have a place in your household garrison."
The king seemed taken aback. "That is a modest request. I would like to offer you my daughter's hand in marriage."
It was the knight's turn to be taken aback. The king surely did not mean to betroth him to the young princess.
"My second daughter is only 17, she shall be ready to wed within the year if you agree." The king turned to the group of ladies in the court. "I present to you, my daughter, Anastasia."
"You were most brave to have offered to rescue my sister, kind sir," Princess Anastasia said before kissing him on the cheek.
In the end, the knight got exactly what he'd hoped for even after being willing to give it up.
| The King glanced up and down the knight, taking in his worn cloak and rusting mail.
"How old are you, knight?" he asked.
"I will be of twenty-six years of age come this summer," the warrior did reply. The King banged his palm on the armrest of his throne, and nodded with satisfaction.
"Very well! You shall be betrothed to my daughter until her sixteenth birthday, upon which the two of you shall be handfasted in marriage. Until that time allow me you grant you lands from my own domains, and a place within my personal guard. You shall not even be thirty-four when my daughter is of age; plenty of time for her to be able to throw you heirs. With any luck and God willing, I shall see grandchildren from my daughter in ten years time."
With that the king made his leave, leaving the former broken lance to dwell on his new found fortune. | 2016-05-23T19:20:11 | 2016-05-23T17:01:12 | 30 | 15 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | As I walk home from school, I can hear the voices that bother me the most at the park. "Mine is four crosses that all meet with one corner. It kinda makes a star shape!"
"Oooh, can I see? Sounds cool. What does it do?"
"It's on my back. It lets me bend light and make illusions!" The new peers of this nemesis of mine watch in awe as he lifts his shirt and shows them the intricate detail on his back. He then folds his arm and exhales heavily. When he does, the very light around him begins moving, and he makes himself appear much taller than his peers.
Mark Gibson. I have hated him for years. Ever since middle school he's been the popular kid that picks on everyone except his little 'popular' crowd. Even now, as juniors in high school, he remains a childish bully. He looks over as he releases the illusion. "What's the matter, plain-face? Embarrassed? Wish your Emblem was cool like mine?"
"Shut up, Mark. I don't want to talk to you." As I looked up, he came close and struck me with an open palm.
"Don't you ever say anything like that again to me, you hear, shithead?" Mark had a slight grin on his face. I saw him about to exhale, a sure sign of him readying his Emblem's power. As soon as I noticed it, I delivered a swift kick to his groin. He winced in both shock and pain.
"NOW YOU'VE DONE IT!" Mark recovers quickly and counters with a punch to my gut. I could feel the force pressing the air out of my body, but I can't let him win. I remove my jacket to allow for better movement. My Emblem, a black circle on my shoulder, is revealed after I've gone down to the tank top underneath the jacket. I wore this today intentionally. Nobody has ever seen my Emblem, and they're about to learn why I hide it.
"Haha! Look, guys! His Emblem looks so boring! Or did you just draw that on yourself? You pathetic kid!" 'Tsk, tsk, tsk... You should not have done that,' I thought to myself. I pulled back my open hand and closed it as I brought it closer to his face. The black circle turns blue, and emits a bright light. 'Blue, huh? I can work with that.'
"Uh, hey, what the hell is tha-" Mark shut his mouth as my fist connects with his jaw. However, my fist backs up immediately after impact, and delivers a lightning-fast strike again. Another. A fourth, fifth, sixth. I stop there. Mark falls over, holding his lower jaw and covering his face. He's clearly scared of me now.
My Emblem changes what it does hourly. Its color determines that. Blue, for example, allows me to rapidly repeat a simple action such as punching or kicking up to twenty times within four seconds. After using it, I need up to 30 seconds to rest, depending on how many times I use it.
"You wanna say any of that again? Go ahead. I dare you." I position myself over him, and put my foot on his chest to ensure he can't get up. I press down so he can't activate his Emblem.
"Okay, okay! You win! Just stop!" His bright green eyes have become awash with fear. This is too good to stop now.
"Stop? Now? When will the circus call you back? Because you would have quite the resume to show them. Especially if you think I am done!" 'Finally, twenty seconds have passed. This should be enough,' I think to myself as I ready the leg on his chest. Before he realizes it, I send my full twenty kicks straight into him. He's practically crying.
"Dude, seriously! It's all just for fun! I'm never trying to hurt you, I mean it!"
I abruptly countered this argument. "Fun?! You think giving me a black eye the day before a funeral is fun? You think telling teachers I do all the terrible things you do to get me in trouble is fun? This is fun to you?!" My hatred begins pouring through the cracks of my outwardly positive demeanor. I briefly look at my watch, and notice that it's 5:58. In two minutes, I can switch it up completely. Man, I hope I don't get White. That one's always been useless.
"I thought it was all play-fighting, John! I mean it!" Damn, not enough time yet. I can't just pound into him again. Instead, I lift my leg and let him get up. Looking down upon him is fun and all, but I think watching him fall over and struggle to get back up is more interesting.
"It's not. It never was, scum!" I would never call anyone 'scum.' Not out loud, at least. I didn't even realize I did until it happened. Now that the time has passed, I get back to it. He stands, and I run my fist into his forehead, once again giving him the Twenty-Shot Special. I begin laughing after thinking up that name, because he falls over like he's had twenty shots. I decided to keep that in mind.
Suddenly, I remind myself that the human body does have a limit, and if I don't stop this, he's gonna pass it. Not worth the jail time. So, I grabbed his arm and picked him up. "You insult me again, and you'll see there's so much more to me. You understand that, Mark Gibson?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback and criticism always appreciated! Thanks for reading! | It was time for combat training, sounds harsher than it truly is. It just gives us a chance to use our sigils in a controlled environment. Personally, I always tried to come up with a reason not to participate, because unlike everyone else with their flame, skulls, bones, etc. My sigil was a plain circle, boring, unimaginative, unremarkable which is probably why so far, the teachers and trainers hadn’t bothered forcing me to participate regardless of how bad my excuse was… Until today...
Jake was first up, a good friend of mine with the sigil of a Rams head, similar in design to how Baphomet is portrayed but Jakes sigil was a counter sigil. Every blow he took regardless of what it was he could redirect back to his opponents without taking any of the damage himself, only downside is that his counters was limited to the medium of the attack. If he was shot he’d have to redirect the power back into the bullet to send it back to the attacker, if he was punched well that was easier. His opponent had a sigil that looked like spaghetti or a snake didn’t really pay attention as the boys fist went flying from him, stretching his arm to ridiculous lengths. The punch hit Jake and there was a brief pause in the world until the boy who attacked Jake started crying, his hand and arm back to normal but bruised and swollen.
Next up was Tobias, a horrendous bully whose sigil was that of an ant with a parasitic fungus on its head. His sigil allowed him to influence people, slowly but surely taking control. He used it quite often to manipulate people, with whispers of how he was in their head. Sadly our trainer had allowed us to choose our opponents and Tobias chose me...
“I’m not feeling well, I’ll pass, sorry Tobias” I said hoping it would help me.
Tobias murmured before replying in a half laugh “Ha, you’re just a coward you know I got you under my finger you boring nobody, you waste of space, you’re nothing to me”
I could feel his manipulation scratching in my brain, small whispers of having to fight back. I tried to ignore it, but Tobias kept murmuring and taunting until eventually I voluntarily let go.
“Fine, you’re right I’m nobody, I’m nothing, I guess I got no choice. I accept” With that the teacher rang the gong…
I felt sorry for Tobias, because for me my sigil kept me safe from what it did, for others not at all. I slowly walked up to him as people around us was talking amongst each other, Tobias was confused, everyone was confused. I kept walking.
“Tobias who is your opponent?” The teacher asked irritated as if Tobias just stood there for fun.
“I… I don’t know… I thought… I don’t know sir” Tobias answered quite flabbergasted. As I reach Tobias I let go of my sigil and everyone was in shock, Tobias even jumped back in confusion and fear.
“Who, what, how did you?” Tobias fumbled with the words, for him it made no sense as the memories didn’t fit.
“I am nobody, I am nothing just as you always said. My sigil might be a boring plain circle, unremarkable really. But it’s a symbol of the void, a symbol of nothing.” I said as I stretched my arm out towards him. “A circle you see can be filled with anything, it’s empty, it is nothing, just like you” I finished as Tobias disappeared and everyone started wondering what I was doing. You see, the ability my sigil grants is nothing, pure nothing, whatever I want can disappear from reality, its history wiped completely like it never existed to begin with, it was nothing. As I mentioned though my sigil protects my mind from it so while to everyone else Tobias had never existed I still remembered him same with how I could appear and disappear, I just removed my own existence for a moment as I had moved towards Tobias. My mind is protected because of the sigil… Tobias mind was not…
I let go of my sigils power and Tobias materialized again, in a vegetative state, standing, drooling and finally collapsing on himself. Apparently, nothing tends to break peoples mind as it’s a truly unfathomable phenomenon, I mean there’s a word for nothing which is something, but what is truly nothing?
&#x200B;
Thank you for reading. :) | 2020-02-26T08:45:39 | 2020-02-26T08:28:41 | 68 | 42 |
[WP] You have come to possess an incredibly large and very useless object.
What do you do with it? | We have no word in our language for the creature. He responds to our calls and that is enough. How he became our servant we do not know. The creature came with the house! This is the way it has always been, for thousands of years. His race serving ours.
Brother and I have discussed at length to what use we can put the creature beyond basic food preparation and cleaning, but he seems to lack both understanding and motivation. The creature often spends all day away from the house - we presume he hunts on his own - only to return in the evening to sit silently, play with one of his toys, or sleep. Always sleeping. The lazy, useless brute.
Still, for all his faults, we have grown accustomed to his presence. We even occasionally honor him by joining him on his bed or resting area. The creature seems to enjoy this and will respond with calming tones in his language of nonsense.
We eventually plan to teach the creature to catch the small animals and bugs that sometimes enter the house. But until we can develop a more consistent form of communication and train him further, we must accept this basic and limited arrangement.
What a day it will be when the creature is finally able to perfectly understand his Feline masters! | "I'm sorry sir, my job is just to deliver it"
Before I could respond, the delivery guy was already hopping his way back up into the cab of his truck.
I scratched my head, as I dug in my jacket pocket for my smokes.
Inhaling the first puff of procrastinating smoke, I leaned back against the wall and looked again at my new purchase.
The door pushed open as John came out. He nodded his greeting and I watched as his gaze went past me to the object sat on the kerb next to me.
His brow furrowed and I watched first as his comprehension clicked and then as the mirth built within him.
Pre-emptively, he stuck out his hand to brace himself against the edge of the doorframe.
"Have you quite finished?" I asked, as John was all but suffocating from raucous laughter.
"But...what...how..."
"It's a mistake, I must have made a bloody typo on the form"
"But...it's..."
John was cleary having some real difficulty drawing breath now. He could barely gulp a small mouthful of air between each outburst of laughter.
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and let out a few more giggles under his breath.
"What are you going to do with it?" He asked, barely maintaining his composure. I could see him deliberately looking off into the distance in order to avoid eye contact with either me or my monstosity.
"I don't know. Beryl just came down and told me I can't leave it here, so I guess I'll have to take it home with me"
This set John off into another fit of giggles.
"But...you...get....the...bus" "You'll...have...to...pay...for...two...seats!"
"Fuck off John" I extinguished my cigarette and covered my face with my hands. Sighing, a lifted my rucksack to my shoulders, pulled my coat tighter around me and struggled to pick up my new business card with both hands.
My 4 foot by 2 foot business card. My name, number, email and company logo clear as day across both sides.
That was the day I learnt the difference between ' and " when referring to feet and inches. | 2013-11-08T08:35:10 | 2013-11-08T08:23:00 | 38 | 14 |
[WP] You're tripping on a new drug dubbed "Memory lane." It allows you to relive anything that has ever happened in your life with 100% clarity. The only catch is that the memory is random.
Good or bad trip. Your choice.
Thanks for the responses guys, I of course had to take a crack at it as well (be gentle it's my first try) | The glass vial rolled around the porcelain basin.
*tink *tink *tink
3…. That familiar burn began.
2…. I grab the edge of the sink as all my muscles tense up.
1…. I feel it course through me as my eyes roll shut.
……….lift off.
Where would I be this time?
I could feel the rain covering me. The amber light illuminating her white skin. She looked more tan now that she ever had. I could feel her body getting heavier. Her breathes getting lighter. Our eyes locked and I squeezed her hand tighter.
“Don’t worry they’ll be here any second. Hold on”…
She smiled that smile that made me fall in love with her from the first time I met her. I stroked her wet hair trying to provide some comfort. He breaths were shorter until she stopped. Tears were now mixing with the rain. Bright flashing lights were in the distance I turned to look.
I woke up to a migraine and burning eyes. Curled up in a ball I continued to cry. I reached to the edge of the sink and grabbed another vial. Hopefully this would be the one, I’d finally be with her, with no pain. I’d been trying for years. Telling myself ,”just one more trip down memory lane”.
| I plug in. Better be worth it.
...
Damn, it's hot outside. Shoulda worn lighter clothes.
I'm waiting. Waiting.
Maybe she's taking a long time to finish her test. Who knows, Mrs. T is insane.
Finally, I hear another wave of kids leaving the school building and I recognize the voices. Henry. Marsh. Kelly. Jenny.
I've got the gift in my hand.
In the wise words of Eminem, "Palms Sweaty. Arms heavy. Something something mom's spaghetti." Well, something like that. I don't really listen to him.
Marsh knows what's up. He's cracking a smile at me before throwing a wink in. Fortunately, he's behind everyone else so it's only me who catches it.
I walk up. My knees are wobbling all over the place, like two rambunctious toddlers who just won't stay still.
I choke on my words as I hand Jenny the little box of chocolates I shoddily wrapped up.
"I...
I like you. I mean...
Will you go out with me?"
There's a pause as it sets in. It gives way to a torn expression. A pained one.
"Dave... I... Well..."
She's looking for a way out, I think.
"We're only in 8^th grade..." She mumbles some other stuff quietly.
I... Well...
I didn't really know what to expect.
"Ok... I'm sorry..." I in turn make a beeline towards the bus. God, I fucked up.
The bus ride home is a haze of gutted emotions. It's a weird feeling, being rejected.
Yet as I walk into my house, into my small room, the whole of it sinks in. I cry. I punch a pillow with my weak arms, the recoil carrying as much force as the punch itself.
"Alone.... Alone... I... I'm fucking useless and I'll always be alone..."
But there's a new voice, something I didn't see coming.
"No you won't. I'm here for you. I'm always here for you. It's ok. It's ok. Calm down."
As my eyes open, my brain connects the voice to someone. Someone I know, someone I love. The memory bed around me is still terrifying, but as my wife sits by my side, relief washes over me.
| 2014-09-04T14:26:59 | 2014-09-04T13:31:44 | 592 | 192 |
[WP] Humans can only stay awake for 1 hour before going into their 23 hour sleep everyday. How does their world function? | "Ug," I said to the others awakening near me, by which I meant "quick, we need to get food and potable water before we sleep". "Ug", they agreed. We rushed out of our caves, clubbed the nearest rabbit, ate its meat raw, and went back to sleep. Society, in those days, progressed slowly. | Robots. What about robots? I'm not really sure... What was the question?
Oh, right, who does all the work around here? It's the robots. They claim people used to run the world, but I don't know how we could have. I haven't even left my house this year, let alone gone all the way to another place. How would I get there? I'd fall asleep on the walk.
You need to quit acting like I'm special. I can read. Only one in ten thousand people can read. I was pretty quick, too. I could read by nineteen. If that's not a record, you've got me. I'm learning math now. There are all these lessons on the internet, I've been trying to learn, but it was hard before to find someone who could read to explain it. Now my only problem is how long they are. They act like you have four or five hours to do it. What gives?
*So, what if I told you that people used to stay awake for 12 hours? 16 hours? Some people would even stay awake for more than a day when they needed to. What then?*
Well, you're wrong. That's all. And you're going to have to go now. **BANG!** | 2015-02-06T05:26:30 | 2015-02-06T05:09:43 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] As humanity sends its first manned expedition beyond the orbit of earth, it discovers that humans are actually immortal, but "Mother Earth" is actually a living organism that has been consuming their life force to survive. | They knew. The bastards knew this whole time and they never told us. And if they didn't know, they had to at least have suspected.
In the 46 years since man first walked on the moon, how many people have died? How many never even needed to, just so they "could be sure"? 46 years since they sent a group of men with varying terminal illnesses on a mission they thought no one would come back from, only for them to return, miraculously cured. Cured and healthier than any man had any right to be.
What was the first thing they did? Experiment. They sent more manned missions, placed space stations in orbit around the planet, made calculations. It appeared that the outer limit of the Earth's Biological Degradation Field was just a little more than 100,000 miles. No one knew why and no one cared. What they cared about was the revelation that the Apollo 13 mission actually ran out of oxygen before they were even half way home. The entire crew was breathing vacuum. In fact, they were breathing out of *reflex*.
46 years it took them to realize that the moment a human entity travelled more than 100,000 miles from the earth, it became self sustaining. Almost immediately all need for food, water, oxygen or sleep disappeared, the body became harder than diamond and any freak wounds were almost instantly healed. But within a week of returning to the planet, those needs would return. Scientists couldn't explain it. Was it the unfiltered solar radiation? Was the entire planet dependent on a symbiotic relationship with its life forms? If that was the case then why didn't this immortality apply to the monkey or dogs that travelled similar distances?
The rich caught on first. Branson, Musk, they started pioneering "space tourism" in the hopes of easing us into immortality. But that's not how we found out, no. That's not why there's rioting in the streets. That's not why the rich are abandoning the planet to leave the poor behind, riding on solar winds into eternity.
No, it was that fucker Snowden. He leaked it all. 10 more years of secrecy, they say, and we would have had mass exodus. But with the best, brightest and richest fleeing en masse, they estimate we've been set back 80-90 years. That's *with* the help of the Good Samaritans who have intentionally stayed behind.
And where's Snowden in all this? Where's the one who only wanted to share the truth? Where can the angry mobs find him?
About 600,000 miles beyond Luna, of course. Making a beeline straight for Mars. | "They must know..." she collapsed onto her knees.
Rachel turned toward me on the NOVAK56, our interstellar spaceship, the 56th of its kind. The 55 that came before us were manned missions exploring our own galaxy. This time our mission was special. Travel to a planet core left after a violent supernova, in the outer rim of the Andromeda Galaxy. Scientists said the chances of finding such a residual remnant were 1 in ever 8 billion stars. I was young at the time when they asked me to go. I'm still young. Time dilation is quite whimsical in that way. The same old corporate assholes who send young inexperienced engineers on treacherous missions end up dead by the time the mission is complete.
"You know we can't go back Rachel." I walked up to her and put my hand on her shoulder. As I looked into her eyes I couldn't help but wonder how my wife was doing on Earth. Everyday I try to convince myself that she's waiting for me. But every NOVAK astronaut would be fucking stupid not to either leave or divorce their significant other before leaving Earth. I was a part of the "fucking stupid" crowd. I don't know what I was thinking. I am naive enough to think my wife would let her pussy dry up for another 24 years waiting for me.
But none of that matters now.
I stared intently at Rachel's trembling hand as she began moving toward pilot control. I grabbed her hand and led my finger comfortingly between hers. As our palms touched, I smiled at her.
"You know we can't go back." I looked out at the sunken planet core again to see its massive molten eyes sown shut by the heat of the supernova. It's rigid metallic flesh pulsating slowly in a last ditched effort to form a gravitational shield to protect itself.
But still her hand began making it's way back to pilot control. This time I slapped her hard across the face. She woke her up.
"Hope, what do you think you're doing?" I was taken aback. Her voice was absolutely calm.
"Hope, I don't think you realize what's happening here." She began pacing around the room, eyes locked onto mine.
"If Earth is a living organisms that means it needs a fuel source." She stopped and looked at her reflection against the window. "Earth has been cultivating us, setting up the right biological conditions for a robust, intellectually superior species that has both mass and longevity."
She looked back at me in horror. "It's using us. Eating us. It's consuming just enough so that our diet and medicine allows us to extend our life expectancy."
She walked up to me, and this time she put her hand on my shoulder to comfort me. I was in shock, Rachel could see it all over my face.
"Hope, in the last 100 years our life expectancy across the world has not gone beyond 122 years... Which means Mother Earth is probably tired of nibbling off of us.
She's preparing for a mass extinction."
I fell on my back. I couldn't stand.
General relativity, special relativity, the Lorentz factors... Do these equations even make sense, given our potential life span might be far greater than our life span can tolerant on earth.
"She's bored Hope, she might be more human than we thought."
I stood up quickly and began rotating the ship back to the Earth position vector.
(Dramatic Man)
What... or Who is Earth. How has she been draining our life force. Can unmasking her true nature reveal to us, the secrets to our existence? What will our heroes encounter next?
Find out next of the next episode of...NOVAK56.
| 2015-06-29T23:52:29 | 2015-06-29T20:26:16 | 39 | 13 |
[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys! | Everything was perfect
Everything was grand
Every rule was followed
Every part was bland
*
The creatures all were happy
All creatures were the same
The creatures needed nothing
The creatures had no aim
*
The scenery was pretty
The weather was just right
There really was no difference
Between the day and night
*
The student sure was proud
The teacher was impressed
Everyone agreed
That his world was the best
*
Creative may look great
Unique is what they say
But does it really matter
if he doesn't get an A?
| Jehovah had no clue as to why his project did not hold par to Adalade's, it was just as proficient and rudimentary, just as mathematical. He supposed it was the progressive model of evolution he implemented. Molecular decay, mitochondrial swapping and cell division, it could only be fully analyzed over time perhaps, Jehovah thought, that was the exact issue. Adalade's symbiotic construct of universal development was almost instantaneous, all of Adalade's sentient programs were immortal and had to follow the code she did not give them choice or meaning as to what those choices meant.
Jehovah created an entire prophetic backstory to his UDC, two creatures began the civilization one named Adam the other Eve...perhaps the complexity made it a bit too childish. After all he only created a single planet in which sentient life could flourish. It allowed the observer to focus on the core programming, Adalade's was on several planets allowing for more diversity and made it more flashy. Teachers of the UDC class are suckers for 'flashy' development.
He knew that if the teacher looked closer they would begin to appreciate it's complexity but he was shy and accepted the C. Adalade's UDC did not even have dimensionality, it was linear, two dimensional beings flailing about in uneven space. Jehovah's dimensions were nothing short of amazing, gravity to tell where and when all matter was to begin and end, time to allow the matter to exist, and space a place in time which it could begin and maintain in. He even had cute little trashbins to fold the matter when the program had finished.
Fuck it, he thought, tossing the UDC in his mother's storage unit. | 2015-07-30T20:57:14 | 2015-07-30T20:36:39 | 356 | 129 |
[WP] One day, you find a note in your breakfast; one of the guards knows you're innocent and is going to try to help you escape. You aren't innocent. | The cell's bar made a dark shadow on the wall. Ironic that sunlight seemed to make the room even darker. Inside the cell a young man considered the scrap of paper in his hand. The last line read:
*'Hang tight Aki. I'll come tonight to save you. '*
Save him. Aki, the Butcher of Bratva. Why did they think he was innocent?
He still saw it.They had run from him in fear, as he cut of their heads. The knife had been painted red, as he caught them one by one, and chopped of their heads. The headless bodies still flapping around in fear. The police came after a few days looking. He had nothing to hide. His confession and blood soaked clothes all the proof they needed.
The dark part of the wall felt cold . Was the wall to blame for being so cold ,or the sun, who failed to warm it?
His calloused fingers ran across the wall until finally touching the heart of the darkness. An old rusted nail.
The smile seemed to light up the entire room.
----------------------------------------------
"Aki. You there?"
James tapped the bars silently as he strained his eyes. He couldn't make out anything in the dark cell. Despite his warm leather jacket, the cell made him shiver. With fear or cold he could not say.
A movement. Someone came into view. Aki. His heart shook as he looked at the boy. The poor kid was barely 18, and a victim in all this. The officers in charge hadn't realized what they had done, and the DA was to worried about the embaressment to revoke the charges. It wasn't right, no matter how you look at it.
Aki came to the edge of the bars. "Why did you call me innocent?"
His eyes. They were so lost. What had this kid seen? Prison was not a good place for him. "You being here. Its a mistake. You're not a killer. Not a killer of humans, anyway."
He bent down to open the lock. *I hope Karen doesn't miss this key.*
"But i killed them. I must pay."
It was hard to fit the key in the dark. "Look.. ah! Damn key. Aki, I told you. The officers made a mistake. You didn't massacre those people at the mall. That man died in a drug bust 2 days later. When the officers came across you on patrol, they just assumeed you were the killer." A satisfying click. The hinges creaked as the metal door swung. "Your confession was the clincher."
The boy came up to him. "So... I am not a killer."
He patted his shoulders."No. What you killed were-"
Something cold in his neck. Air refused to enter. He stumbled back, feeling his neck. Something sharp was stuck in it.
Aki was screaming "I killed them. You cannot take that from me. I. Killed. Them. Me. Only I deserve to be rewarded. To be Here." An alarm started to run in the distance.
He felt backward against the wall. Falling to his feet, he tried to breath, to say the last few words. They barely came out.
"....you killed.... farm Hens....not humans....not a ....kill-"
No air left. Darkness surrounding him. The kid was finally a killer. Now who was to blame for that. Aki or him? | The hatch in the wooden door opened squeakily. The ray of light coming out of the opening threw long shadows on the cold brick wall in the back of the room. The man who sat on the worn mattress squeezed his eyes shut, as he had accustomed to the darkness of his cell. The brightness hurt him physically, and mentally. For his crimes he was sentenced to life in prison: an old fortress on a small island miles from the coast, stashed away in isolation, never to be seen or heard from again. He had grown into the darkness, the acceptance of his doomed fate had caused him to embrace his hopeless situation. Every time he saw the light his heart stirred, a faint pain that caused his chest muscles to contract. No, when the hatch opened he normally chose to turn around and stare at the wall, or crawl under the musky, thin blanket. He said farewell to the light long ago, the hopes and possibilities it could bring only worsening his sorrow.
Something was different this time. A bowl of thick soup and a hunk of bread was thrown onto the floor, but the hatch remained open longer than usual. ''Here you go'', he heard, a faint voice coming from behind the door as the hatch closed loudly.
No one had talked to the prisoner before. His days were spent in silence, and the only interruptions were the quick cleanings done monthly to ensure he wouldn't die in his own filth. All he did was sit, stare at the walls and contemplate his sins.
The carriage had arrived at the crossroads at the exact time that was predicted by his informants. The group of soldiers circling the vehicle had been cautious. They were handpicked by the general of the King's army, and were the best soldiers available to escort the King's sons back home from a diplomatic mission to a neighboring country, Elokko. Even with their experience and unmatched loyalty to the royal family, they didn't stand a chance. The fifty vagabonds had swarmed the carriage, and while twenty didn't live - a heavy price to pay - they were able to capture the King's sons. They had acquired the leverage they needed to claim independence from the tyrannic crown. And it was a price he had been willing to pay. A price he would pay to this day.
He crawled from the mattress, his thin arms reaching for the bowl. As his hand grasped the side of it, he noticed a rough edge on the bottom of the bowl. He carefully took the bowl in both hands and climbed on his mattress and lifted the bowl above his head. The small crack into the wall let a beam of weak sunlight into his cell, and he could see a small piece of paper attached to the bowl. With one hand he carefully detached it from the bowl and sunk back down on the mattress. He placed the bowl back onto the floor and stood up again to read the message that was scribbled on thin parchment. The ink read:
''I, we, know you are innocent. Be patient. You'll be free soon.''
His heart started to pound faster, the blood rushed to his ears. What do they mean, innocent? They knew, *he* knew. There was no denying. When his horse tripped over the tree root in full gallop he saw the men rushing from the bushes around them. A thick man with a large, red beard has drawn his sword and charged towards the boys. They looked around with fear in their eyes, but didn't see the man approach behind them. He stood, his sword drawn above their heads. The sword had swung down - he could still remember the swishing sound of the blade - until the boy froze. His face had turned into a mask of surprise and the blood flowed out of his face - but then darkness embraced the prisoner himself as something heavy hit him on the back of his head
He snapped out of his train of thought and stared at the bowl in front of him. The soup had cooled down and strained, chunks of potato and vegetables floating on the surface. No, he wasn't innocent, and he knew that. But even though he would pay for his crimes eventually, he knew what option he would choose. He could sit here, in his cell, or he could do it in temporary freedom, to complete the mission of his people: liberation. There was enough time to pay for his wrongdoings later.
He grabbed the rough wooden spoon that was stuck in the thick soup and started stirring with more energy than he felt in years. In the darkness of his cold, sober room, he sat with his back straightened against the wall, the corners of his mouth curled upwards. There was hope.
| 2015-12-13T10:35:46 | 2015-12-13T08:55:24 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] You suddenly find your doors and windows won't open. You log in to Reddit and find the most upvoted thread with over a million comments and just two hours old "Help, my door is stuck, any tips to get it open?"
Update!
**Cawos has kindly offered to turn the top submission into a short film!**
Please subscribe to /r/cmfilms to follow updates and be the first to hear about it when it releases! | I thought it odd enough that the most upvoted thread on redddit decribed my exact predicament, but when they took the unprecedented move to kill all other threads and make it the only thread only reddit, dedicating the community to solving this singular problem, I knew, then, that this was no hoax. I tried searching the internet for more information, but it was as if the whole of the internet was reddit. Every address, every site, all redirected to this singular source of information. And every comment, though worded differently, really only said one thing: People were worried, scared.
I'd tried everything I could think of. Smashed furniture against the doors and windows. Kicked, screamed. Beat against the windows, walls, and doors until I collapsed from exhaustion. I once even tried clawing up the floor. Nothing. Not so much as a dent, crack or scratch for my efforts.
Outside my window, the world was in constant twilight. I lost any sense of time.
How long had I been here? Days? Weeks?
I'd tried many times to reply to The Thread but, for some reason, none of my comments would post.
Then, the PMs started.
"Are we getting through?"
"Are you in there, somewhere?"
"Please, let us know!"
I tried replying, but it was as if my connection to the rest of the world was only one -way.
"Somehow, I know you are there. I miss you. Please, give us a sign."
...
"It's been months. If something doesn't change soon, they're going to pull the plug. If you're there, you need to let us know."
| Sam cried. The thread would barely load at this point. 8 hours after he first tried his door and windows his sense of place in the world was shaken to its core.
He hadn't tried breaking his windows yet. u/TheBaddestDongbeast69 reported her husband broke their slider and tried to leave the house but he got stuck halfway and everything she said after that was gibberish.
Sam had tried calling 911 on his phone, the operator picked up the line and just starting looping "hello 911 what is your emer- hello 911 what is your emer-" over and over. He turned on the TV. CNN was reporting on that missing girl from Alabama again. MSNBC was talking about the upcoming debate.
Was this real? Everything was wrong, this can't be happening, was he dreaming? Was this lucid dreaming that he had read about? It sure felt real when he about pissed himself. Amanda- what is happening with Amanda? Why wouldn't she respond to any texts or calls?
His stomach growled. How could he be hungry at a time like this? It was chaos outside. The neighbors two houses down appeared to be trying to crash their car into their living room. Some were just walking in circles. He couldn't watch anymore, the panic was building again.
There was a flash of light. Or was it a flash of black? Suddenly he felt weightless and frozen in space. He saw his living room flicker. Text. Text? Is he really seeing this? It looks like a dialog box. Suddenly a voice spoke out.
"EARTH 2000 Jane's MOD XXX EPIC AI qubits965. Patch notes 235819.56. Material interaction glitch. Pathing error and door code portal transfers.
Damnit Carl this is why you don't let the intern commit stack changes. We haven't had an error this big since the gravity lapse in 324.67 resulting in the Dino reset. We'll need all players to logout and return to server selection screen. My mic is what? Oh shi..."
He ran to the window and started smashing it with the lamp. He froze.
ERROR. Your session will be logged out in 30 seconds appeared in the sky. Celia the redhead from next door disappeared in thin air. Why did this seem so wrong? 20 seconds. His past flashed before his eyes, it didn't take log. Why couldn't he remember anything about high school? 10 seconds. Amanda.. Amanda.. Who was Amanda? He couldn't even see her face. 5.. 4.. Oh 3.. My 2.. God. He suddenly knew. He was an NPC. 1..
| 2016-01-31T09:21:55 | 2016-01-31T08:26:35 | 520 | 334 |
[WP] Your father left 20 years ago the night before your birthday to get Cigarettes, Milk, and Bread. Today he comes home with long bedraggled hair, weather beaten skin, and a sword on his hip. The first thing he says to you is "You're never going to believe what happened." | "You're never going to believe what happened." He rushed in through the open door and swept everything off the countertop to make space for his groceries. Key Food.
The last Key Food had closed 5 years ago. The Key Food near our house, 10. Who was this straggler who barged into my house? How far and how long had he been traveling? The man looked homeless, covered in grime and muck in a barely visible dark blue uniform. I pitied him… but he could still be dangerous. I took a step back, resting my hand on the gun cabinet.
"Hello?,” I asked, and flexed my shoulders to make myself big.
“Look.” He pulled out the sword from his hip and laid it on the counter. "Look at it." The light bounced off the hilt of the sword. Intricate lines ran down the silver-gold sheath. He danced his fingers down the sword, following the curves to their end and tracing another as it began. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” His eyes followed his fingers, transfixed on the glinting light.
It indeed was. “How much?” Maybe I could buy the thing and get rid of him.
“That’s the best part! Free!”
I felt the familiar grooves of my shotgun and pulled it towards me. I had bought it on my sixteenth birthday, ten years after my father’s disappearance. It reminded me that I was the man of the house. And I was not going to let this crazy sword gypsy scare me in it. I shouldered the Remington 870. “Get out!”
He looked up and slowly raised his hands. “I’m sorry. I must have had the wrong house. I live over at 34-09 Willow Lane.”
“This is 34-09 Willow Lane.” With one hand firmly on the gun, I grabbed his collar and started dragging him to the door. My hand on his grime-covered… mechanic’s uniform. A nametag. Theodore Sr. “Dad?” He looked up and for the first time since he walked in, I looked at his face. He had a brilliant spark in his eyes and was only a few years older than me. A handsome smile and... that scar on his chin... from that work accident. He looked exactly like the pictures. Pictures that were twenty years old.
“What? I am sorry, sir. I must have walked into the wrong house. I didn’t mean any trouble.”
He looked uneasy in my grip. I let go, rested the gun on the wall and took a seat near the counter. All I could do was stare in awe. He was exactly like the pictures. He hadn’t changed a single bit. I could only choke out a single word. “Dad?”
“I’m sorry, I have no idea who you are.” He opened the door to leave and turned around. He looked back at me, then the counter, then at me, then the ceiling. His eyes darted around the room. “This is my house. Why are you in my house? What happened? I was gone twenty minutes.”
“Try twenty years. It’s me, Teddy. Dad, it’s me.”
"So... you're like twenty-five?"
"Yea."
He collapsed at the door. I could see he was lost in thought. I felt helpless, but I couldn’t explain it either. We both sat in silence.
“The sword…” He looked at me with a tear coming down his eye. “He asked. The man… he offered me the sword… for just a moment of my time.”
| It had been three years since I set foot in my old home. By then, my mother was long since committed to Restoration Point Psychiatric Hospital. Once my father left us some 20 years ago, she was never the same person. My uncle, her brother, moved in to help take care of us and was putting up the old home for sale shortly after her funeral. So, after the service we returned to see if there was anything I might of wanted to keep.
I enter her old bedroom and take a look around. Odd books about protection rituals and wards took up space on her bookshelf along with some various family photos. The time I won the Soap Box Derby in Scouts, old vacations with my uncle holding me on his shoulders, me and my prom date. As I grabbed a frame of my mother and myself when I was little, I noticed the corner of the photo was bent. I removed it from the frame to straighten it out, only to discover it was my father. "Fuck you, you worthless bastard." I curse his name and return the picture to it's frame. Just then, the house began to shake violently. My uncle comes racing into the room, screaming at me to "Get down!" and we both hit the floor hard. And not a moment too soon.
A flash of red light materialized from the center of the room, and a large horn pierced the bookshelf that was directly behind and above me. Then, what could only be described as a demon fully formed from the light, crushing my mother's bed beneath his large hooves. Before I could even process what was happening, My uncle stood up, said some Latin words, and a white glow engulfed his whole body. While he looked like my uncle in the face, his body was encased in golden armor. A large battleaxe mounted to his back. He stood their for a moment, staring right back at the beast that had nearly killed us both. He removed his axe and without turning to look at me said only one thing. "Run, Alex. Run!".
I took off from the room to hear my uncle shouting and the demon roaring as they tore apart my house. I was making my way to the front when the demon came flying down from upstairs, my uncle falling with to drive his axe into him. I turn and rush towards the garage when my uncle's axe whizzes right over my head. I double back to the kitchen to the backdoor and without looking slam straight into another armored figure.
His gear was as white as fresh snow. A helm shaped like a lion's head and mane blocked any view of his face. He wordlessly lifts me up of the ground, stares at me for a moment, and unsheathes a dagger from his belt. He hands me the blade, nods, and I take it in my hand. Before I can utter a word, the demon and my uncle land behind us. The demon tries to stomp my uncle, but loses his leg to the swordsman's swing. The beast falls in pain, grasping at the stump, when my uncle returns to his feet and goes to behead the beast, the swordsman yells "Wait Harold! The boy must have his first kill!" My uncle stares the man down, still poised to finish what he had started. "We never had it easy! Why in the hell should it be for him? If he's gonna be an Orderman now, he's just gonna half to kill them like we did Vince!" The swordsman replies "His mother has just died, he's been attacked by a Knight on the eve of her death, and damn it, this is the first time in 20 years I've seen my boy! So cut us all some slack and let him do it!"
Son? The swordsman just called me son. My hands are hurting from clenching the dagger the swordsman has handed me. "You want me to kill that thing?" was the only thing I could manage to say at that time. "Before his leg grows back would be nice." my uncle quips. I much rather not annoy two Medieval looking men in armor, much alone my uncle and some strange man that had just called me son. I head over the the beast, locate it's heart, and ram the blade straight into it. Fire begins to shoot out of the wound I just made, and suddenly, nothing. The swordsman removes his helmet, and his face looks just the same as my father's photo I was looking at some thirty minutes ago. He looks at me lovingly, smiles,and says
"Son, have your uncle and I have something to tell you." | 2016-07-20T09:54:19 | 2016-07-20T09:25:20 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] A world where super heroes exist but act as mercenaries for hire instead of doing it out of the goodness of their hearts
Someone made a comment in another thread that made me want to see this sort of thing and some people replied saying I should submit it here. Here's a link to my [original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/62wgey/tifu_by_bricking_a_computer_with_rick_astley/dfq195a/) which has a little more detail about the sort of thing I was thinking of specifically, but feel free to run with the basic idea however you want. | "Listen, I know your ad says your services start at $150, but I'm hoping you can make an exception, cut me a deal?" Her breathing is shallow and her voice quivers. She swallowed at the end of her sentence. She's panicked and desperate, and unlike most of the time wasters, she's not lying about the money part.
"I'll listen, but this is a business, not a charity."
"I know. I do. But, you see, I am a charity. I run a youth shelter on 6 mile. I have a couple of boys that come in every Thursday and Friday for the pantry. Only none of 'em have showed up the last few weeks."
"Homeless youths? I wouldn't wind your clock by their patterns if I were you."
"You don't have to tell me that, but these boys were different. They've been coming for nearly two years. And they aren't the only regulars that have gone missing. But the cops won't listen and I just know: someone is stealing kids."
I glance at my desktop planner. Blank space as far as the eyes can see. "You got a non-profit number?"
"Yes," her voice pitched up, hopeful.
"Well, I'm gonna need a receipt."
"You'll do it?"
"I'll be feet down in Detroit in oh, about 45 minutes." I hung up and eyed my flying cape. At least my accountant could deduct it this time. | There was a time when good deeds ment the people adored you, they praised you as a savior. Those days are long gone. When Rodrick Friese proposed our step back into civilian life it wasn't met with warm responses, that is until he backed us into a corner, a situation we couldn't save, people we couldn't help.
Everyone in the Strowman Buildings died. It collapsed faster than we could do anything. Once in site the buildings had already been in pieces across the surrounding areas. It wasn't supposed to be possible, a hero in every corner of the city. We devided and conquered all evil.
The people will turn on you quick when it's their 7 year old trapped under rubble, when their husband can't pick up their kids after work. We were forced out, met with disgusting looks and yelled at in the street. I took my cape off 15 years ago and never looked back.
The "severance package" I took to keep myself hidden and supress my powers had run dry. I was worried I wouldn't be able to pay rent or even buy food, I needed a way to survive. I don't have conventional wisdom of normal life. I had never worked a job before and never even went to conventional schools. Myself and my commrades were raised to protect by the Freedom4All Act designed by Congress to eventually become the replacements for police.
I needed a way to keep myself alive.
I found Valor, or as street folk call him Kevin O'Rourke. Him and a few of the crew had been making money on the backs of their powers while keeping relatively hidden. Everything from purse thief to hired hits, no honor for the code.
"To protect all life, for all life is good."
To say little it didn't last long with em. I moved on with my ventures and found myself working alone. I was surprised how much someone was willing to pay for my service. Before I knew it I could charge anything, and I did. I became so indulged with self worth I often forgot to hide my powers when on a case. People often tend to grow suspicious of a floating man with skin made of marble.
Before I knew it I was more rich than I could ever have imagined spending most my life on a hero's salary. However one thing that remained from that time was the notion that nothing good can last forever.
Just a little rough scribbling while on break. Hope it doesn't suck. Not fully fleshed out, written extensively but felt like writting on my break. Thanks for the wicked writing prompt.
| 2017-04-02T10:00:32 | 2017-04-02T08:51:08 | 38 | 27 |
[WP] A bank robber takes off his ski mask and hails a cab, stowing his pistol in his back pocket. Suddenly, lights begin to flash around him. "Welcome to the Cash Cab!..." | The fanfare stunned Jeffery, making him immediately grabbed his gun. Ben announced the rules of the game, unaware of the weapon.
"Are you ready to play Cash Cab?"
Jeffery quickly realized that he was on camera, and holstered his gun once more.
"Sure, whatever, please just start the car!" he replied urgently.
"So you're saying you want to play the game?" Ben asked, still looking back at Jeff.
"*Just start the fucking car!*"
Ben nodded, merging into traffic.
"Ok, Jeff. Can I call you Jeff? What's the biggest bank in America?" Ben asked, looking at Jeffery through the mirror.
Jeff, having just robbed the very same bank, was dumbstruck.
"I don't... can we just drive, please?"
"Sorry Jeff, either we play the game or I stop the car."
"It's... it's JPMorgan Chase, Ben."
"That's $100 for you, Jeff!" Ben announced, as the cab's lights flashed. Jeff tried to shield his eyes from them.
"Ok, for question two: what caliber bullets does the Glock G29 use?"
Jeffery's eyes went wide. He gripped his Glock.
"I, I- I don't think I know that one, Ben," he said, stuttering.
"That's a shame, Jeff, a shame indeed!" Ben said, taking a turn. "Three wrong and this is over! You won't like that, will you Jeff?"
Jeffery pushed himself into the back of his seat, silently shaking his head.
"Ok, next up, how many bank robberies take place per year in New York, on average?" Ben asked with a smile.
"I'd like to get out now, please," Jeffery asked quietly.
"Oh come on, we're just getting started! Take a guess, at least."
"Three."
"Oooh, it's four! Four bank robberies per year, Jeff. So close, ey? One strike left!" Ben replied, accelerating at the green light. Jeffery nodded with severity.
"Next up - how much does it cost to treat leukemia in a child?"
Jeffery was silent. He knew this one.
"Come on Jeff, you gotta play it to win it!"
"...$103250, more or less."
"Right you are!" Ben said, as the lights flashed. He takes a turn, heading directly towards a dead-end.
"Ok, so, important one here - what do you think the chances of a security guard surviving a gunshot wound to the chest are?"
Jeffery gripped his gun. "I'd... I'd like to have a 'Shout-Out', please."
Ben handed him the phone. Jeffery slowly put in the number, putting the phone to his ear with shaking hands.
"Hello..?" a young child asked, voice quivering.
"Honey, I just want to let you know... I'm sorry," Jeffery said, tears in his eyes. He gripped the phone.
"*I didn't have a choice*."
Ben turned to look at him.
"You know she can't hear you, right?"
Jeffery stared back at him with hollow eyes, putting the gun to his head.
"...I know."
*****
The police sirens blared in front of the bank.
Jeffery's lifeless body lay splayed on the floor, his phone slick with blood, half his daughter's number blinking on the screen. | Charlie reaches for his back pocket, but the cab driver keeps talking.
"I'm Ben Bailey, and you're in the cash cab. I'll ask you questions. Every time you get one right, we'll give you $100. If you get three wrong, you're done."
"What, okay, just take me to 2343 Washington Ave."
"Okay, that's 56 blocks. Plenty of time to make some money. Are you ready for the first question?"
"Yeah, I'm a little nervous."
"Just do your best, which Russian Tsar ordered the construction of St. Basil's?"
"Uh..."
"You do have a lifeline where you can phone a friend."
"No, no," says Charlie, "That was Ivan the Terrible."
"Nicely done, that's $100."
Charlie looks in the review mirror and sees sirens flashing behind them. Ben pulls over. Charlie wants to scream, but the sirens pass. It's an ambulance. Charlie breathes a sigh of relief.
"Sounds like that was a guess but a good one. Let's keep going. In what year was the Spanish Armada defeated by the English?"
Charlie remembers it. He thinks back to Billy Madison.
"Uh, 1588."
"Correct, you're up to $200. Whoa, here's a red light. It's time for the Red Light Challenge. You have 30 seconds to name 5 of the 8 presidents who died while still in office."
Charlie looks out the window and sees a police car beside them. He turns his head away from them and covers his face.
"Kennedy, Lincoln, FDR."
"That's three."
"McKinley, and...Garfield."
"That's right, another $250 for you."
Charlie looks at the police car again, but it takes off at the light. The cab keeps going.
"Alright, the questions get a bit harder, but they're worth $200. Are you ready?"
"Uh, I guess."
"What is the highest mountain in Japan?"
"Umm, can I phone a friend?"
"Yep." Ben hands him the cell phone. Charlie waves him off and calls from his phone.
"Hey, yeah, it went fine. Can you pick me up on Washington? Yeah, I'll text you the address."
"The game," says Ben.
"Oh yeah, I'm on this Cash Cab thing. Yeah, I know. No, it's legit. Anyway, do you know the highest mountain in Japan. Are you sure? Fuji?"
"That's right. You're up to $650, but you're out of lifelines. We only have two questions left. Boy, the police are all over the place here. Sirens everywhere. Oh well, your next question. In Siberia is the deepest lake in the world, what is its name?"
"Gee, Ben, I don't know. I'll have to guess. Oh wait, Lake Baikal."
"Correct again, up to $850. You're really robbing me. Alright, what does gas our atmosphere mostly consist of? Hint, it's not oxygen."
"Oh, I don't know. Umm, I know it's not carbon dioxide. I think it's nitrogen."
"Correct again. You have $1050, and here's your stop."
Ben pulls out the money and shows it to Charlie. "Now, you could go for double or nothing. You would double your money if you're right, but, if you're wrong, you lose everything."
"I'm going to take the money and walk."
Charlie pulls out a huge wad of cash and adds the Cash Cab money to it. Ben looks at the money confused. Charlie gets out of the cab but looks at Ben.
"You never saw me, okay?"
"It's on video, this...everything. We taped this."
"Crap, I have to go."
Charlie gets out of the car and starts running down the street directly into two officers who stop him. He explains about the Cash Cab and his excitement about winning. Somehow it works. The officers let him go while Ben Bailey watches, confused. Ben never puts it together, and Charlie escapes into the night.
***
If you liked this, I also wrote a prompt about a talking cow that loves cow puns. [Here is part I.](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/4qd66j/wp_a_poorlydisguised_escaped_dairy_cow_has_worked/) | 2017-06-01T17:04:44 | 2017-06-01T16:46:38 | 92 | 64 |
[WP] Tattoos aren't something that gets made. Instead they randomly appears on our skin at key points in our lives and we have to figure out what they mean for ourselves. | Keenan Avery woke up from another drunken slumber. He rolled out of bed uneasily, his stomach flipping end over end as the twenty-five year old made a beeline for the bathroom. After he had finished emptying the contents from the previous night into the toilet, Keenan made his way to the sink to rinse his mouth. He looked in horror as another tattoo had emerged through his skin, this time above his right eye. September 3, '92 arched around his eyebrow, taunting him in the mirror as he tried to read it backwards. Once he was certain the date was correct he sat on his bed confused.
This wasn't the first time he was confused by a new tattoo. When he turned eighteen he signed up for the new Worldwide Ink Initiative. The revolutionary program was voluntary, but soon everyone that loved the art of tattooing had enrolled. The volunteers were fitted with a capsule about the size of a half dollar in their lower abdomen. Through nanotechnology and brain readings done every few years, the volunteers would begin to literally sprout tattoos on their bodies. Keenan's first was a large Celtic cross on his forearm. His next was on his chest, a heart with the letters A+K on the inside for his first true love. One year later a large "X" went through the heart tattoo. He wasn't exactly littered with ink, but sometimes he wondered why certain tattoos had emerged. "September 3, '92" was nothing less than a mystery.
"What could it mean?" Keenan thought to himself. He was born in 1990. What kind of event could have happened when he was two years old that could have such a lasting effect? Tattoos didn't just come out of the thin air. They all had a very precise meaning to their owners. Keenan was out of ideas. He called his mother.
"Ma," Keenan began, "does September 3, 1992 have any meaning to you?"
His mother was silent on the other end. "Not to me, no," she replied in a rush.
He explained the tattoo and went down a list of possibilities. Was I in the hospital? Were we on a vacation? Did someone die?
"Honey, this is nonsense. Don't ask me about your dumb tattoos. I told you not to get those damn things."
And with that the conversation was over. Keenan let it marinate for awhile. The days ticked away and nothing was coming to him. The tattoo mocked him every time he saw his reflection. Because of the placement; friends, family and strangers noticed the ink immediately. He had no idea what to tell the inquiring minds.
He began to dig deep through the internet. What happened on September 3, 1992? Jerry Lewis had a telethon that raised over $45 million for muscular dystrophy. "End of the Road" by Boyz II Men was taking over the airwaves. It was a day that was quite literally uneventful. So he began to Google his family. Nothing on his father. His mother the same. No deaths in the family or anything. He was truly at a loss.
By some random chance he found an old copy of a newspaper on the day from his local paper. On the third page his eyes were scanning furiously, the new tattoo bobbing up and down, stretching as his eyes agonized over the screen. "Toddler Abducted in Broad Daylight" was the headline. A picture of a young boy smiled on the page, the last known photo of the child. Underneath the toddler was a picture of a husband consoling his hysteric wife. The man looked just like Keenan.
He grabbed his phone off the desk and called his mother. No answer. He called again. No answer. On the third call she finally picked up.
"Tell me it isn't true!" Keenan cried. "Tell me my mind is going crazy and I'm grasping at straws over here, Ma."
"I...We...," she stuttered. "You were never supposed to find out."
Two months after his parents shocking confession they were sentenced to twenty-five years in prison. The judge threw the book at the Abington Abductors. Keenan's life was upside down. He was reunited with his biological parents, but it was all too weird of an experience for all parties involved. There was agreement that this would all take some getting used to.
Keenan woke up in a sweat one day, and made his way to the bathroom in his usual drunken stupor. He had taken to drinking a lot more recently, for obvious reasons. He threw up, rinsed his mouth out and looked back at his reflection. In the mirror, above his left eyebrow and symmetrically arched like his other, was a new tattoo. "Forgiveness" stared backwards at him. Keenan punched the mirror. That same day he made his way back into the clinic of the Worldwide Ink Initiative and had them take his implant out for good.
---
Thanks for reading! Come check out /r/BrenBuck for more! | FADE IN:
INT. AN OFFICE BUILDING - DAY
*The sounds of clacking keyboards and muted conversation drift through the air. Men and women in business-casual attire mill around, either pretending to look busy or rushing from one meeting to the next. This atmosphere of tense ennui is suddenly broken by the arrival of a young man in sweatpants and a stained t-shirt. This is DAVE.*
**DAVE:** (*Shouting*) Steve! *Steve!*
*As everyone turns to stare at the interloper, a second young man peeks out from within a cubicle. This is STEVE.*
**STEVE:** (*To himself*) Oh, no...
*Dave spots Steve and rushes over.*
**DAVE:** Steve! Dude! It finally happened!
**STEVE:** What are you doing here? You can't just...
**DAVE:** (*Interrupting*) I've never gotten one before! Things are finally going to happen for me!
**STEVE:** What are you talking about?
**DAVE:** My tattoo!
*Several seconds pass in silence.*
**STEVE:** What?
**DAVE:** Didn't your parents teach you about the birds and the bees?
**STEVE:** That isn't...
**DAVE:** (*Interrupting*) At certain milestones in a person's life, a tattoo appears on their skin. This marking is meant to convey something important about that individual, but it's up to them to determine the meaning.
**STEVE:** What, did you memorize a health textbook? Anyway, that isn't "the birds and the bees."
**DAVE:** Yes, it is.
**STEVE:** I feel sorry for your former girlfriends.
**DAVE:** Look, dude, whatever. The point is, I got my first tattoo!
*Steve rubs his forehead.*
**STEVE:** As happy as I am for you, can we talk about this later? You can't...
**EDGAR:** (*O.S.*) (*Interrupting*) Steven, what's all this commotion about?
*Steve turns to see a heavyset, balding man entering the cubicle. This is EDGAR, Steve's boss.*
**STEVE:** (*To himself*) Am I just not allowed to finish my sentences?
**EDGAR:** What was that?
**STEVE:** Nothing. Anyway, sorry, this is Dave. He was just leaving.
**DAVE:** No, I wasn't.
**EDGAR:** (*To Dave*) Oh, so *you're* David, huh? Steven has talked a lot about you.
**DAVE:** Yeah, he really looks up to me.
*A humorless scoff escapes Steve's lips.*
**EDGAR:** Did I hear you saying something about a tattoo?
**DAVE:** My first one!
*Edgar's face breaks out into a wide, genuine smile.*
**EDGAR:** Well, hey, congratulations! Did you figure out what it means yet?
**DAVE:** No, I only just found it this morning.
**STEVE:** It's two in the afternoon.
**DAVE:** (*To Steve*) So? Does that mean that I couldn't have found it this morning?
**EDGAR:** You know, David, I have something of a knack for this kind of thing.
**DAVE:** ... Telling time?
**EDGAR:** (*Chuckling*) No, telling tattoos! May I have a look at yours?
**STEVE:** I wouldn't...
*Before Steve can finish his sentence, Dave pulls down his pants and displays his bare buttocks.*
**STEVE:** (*CONT'D*) ... Yep, there he goes.
**DAVE:** See? Right here! It's like... like a cloud or something!
**EDGAR:** (*Thoughtfully*) Hmm. It could be an eye, maybe?
**STEVE:** It's a bruise.
**DAVE:** Maybe I'm supposed to become a private detective?
**STEVE:** Maybe you fell down the stairs yesterday while trying to impress our neighbors.
*Dave pulls up his pants, looking at Steve with an expression of mild annoyance.*
**DAVE:** You know, you could be a little more supportive.
**EDGAR:** That is something we talked about in your quarterly review, Steven.
**STEVE:** Why are you taking his side?! He came bursting in here, shouting at the top of his lungs, and now you're acting like he's your long-lost son or something! If I did that, I'd get fired!
**DAVE:** Right, but I don't work here.
*A thought seems to occur to Edgar.*
**EDGAR:** Hey, it could be a celestial body of some sort...
**DAVE:** Really?!
**STEVE:** Please don't...
*Once again, Steve is interrupted as Dave pulls down his pants.*
**STEVE:** (*CONT'D*) ... Yep, right at eye-level.
**DAVE:** It *does* look a bit like a nebula!
**EDGAR:** I think that might be it, David! Something to do with space, then!
**STEVE:** It's probably between his ears.
*Edgar turns to glare at Steve.*
**EDGAR:** Remind me, Steven, what tattoos do you have?
**STEVE:** (*Proudly*) I have...
**EDGAR:** (*Interrupting*) No space? Got it. Let David have his moment.
*Steve's mouth opens and closes several times, but no sound comes out.*
**EDGAR:** (*CONT'D*) (*To Dave*) How about I get you a beer to celebrate, David?
**DAVID:** Sure! You know, I really don't understand why Steve complains about you all the time.
*Edgar chuckles and leaves the cubicle. Dave starts to follow him, but stops when he realizes that his pants are still around his knees. He hurriedly pulls them up, then rushes out of sight.*
**STEVE:** (*To himself*) I swear, one of these d...
*Steve trails off as he notices a faint marking appearing on his inner wrist. It vaguely resembles a cartoonish bundle of dynamite with an already-burning fuse.*
**STEVE:** (*CONT'D*) ... Uh oh.
FADE TO BLACK. | 2017-08-03T14:37:59 | 2017-08-03T14:08:02 | 154 | 37 |
[WP] Tattoos aren't something that gets made. Instead they randomly appears on our skin at key points in our lives and we have to figure out what they mean for ourselves. | Everyone has at least one tattoo they absolutely love.
Jenny from upstairs has this peacock on her back- something she says is for her mother. Which is. Just. Absolute bullshit. She has it because she's a vain bitch.
But god is that tattoo beautiful. Curving lines inlayed with golds and greens and shocking blues. It's a masterful piece of art.
Fucking. Jenny.
Even Ma, who's worked labor her whole life and is mostly covered in lines and number, statistics and machinery and such, has one little red heart on her wrist that she is so proud of.
It's tiny, no bigger than my pinky nail, but it's powerful. Rich and vibrant. For the husband she lost too soon and the razor she almost took to that same wrist soon after.
I do not have a goddamn thing to be proud of on my body.
No sloping curves, no vibrant colors, no magnificent linework.
Just a vast, inescapable crisscrossing network of cartoon drawing of dicks.
| France was rife with optimism, peace and prosperity during the late stages of the 19th century. It comes to no surprise that the period is known more commonly today as "La Belle Époque".
From the end of the Franco-Prussian war right up until WWI, the country witnessed a boom in the arts and the economy. Things were positively different during an era that seemed to be trapped in time.
Or so the world wished.
Police crowded the outer corridor of the cell as Chief Berlain sat face to face with the source of commotion.
A young lad of about 17 crouched in the corner of his room, staring back like a cowering dog. His body, thinned to the bone and covered in ink.
Berlain had been here before, 5 years prior to this, with the same prisoner in the very same cell. Yet the boy of the past was no longer there, his face irecognizable.
The warden had recorded a total of 18 more individual markings on his face alone since then. The majority depicted numbers.
Official studies had commenced late that June, but 5 years and 9 months on and the puzzle remained incomplete. Up until now the engravings on his body were a maze they couldn't get out of.
A date was the only clear indication: 10.05.1871 in Roman numerals. The end of the Franco-Prussian war.
That morning the tone was different. Whilst France was enjoying it's prosperity, the men gathered around the cell felt nothing but dread.
The teenager was usually a very calm lad, who did as he was told. But today he had broken down during breakfast and hadn't left his cell corner for hours.
Another date had appeared on his neck, next to the previous numbers. Yet this one marked the end of a supposed era, this one was in the future.
28.06.1918 in the same numerals.
A puzzled Berlain turned to face his colleagues. The time had come to take this beyond their own power and to the government.
But Christophe Berlain had other plans. That night, instead of heading north to Paris, he would take his subject East.
| 2017-08-03T15:53:09 | 2017-08-03T14:24:46 | 69 | 13 |
[WP] Tattoos aren't something that gets made. Instead they randomly appears on our skin at key points in our lives and we have to figure out what they mean for ourselves. | It's genetic, they think, but only mad men try to pick apart the threads of this phenomenon. But some of it is genetic, because some families get them more than others. Or maybe those families are similarly emotional.
There's surely more important things for the minds of our generation to worry about.
My mother was heavily tattooed. I remember sitting in her arms as a child and tracing my fingers across lines, but some of the tattoos i remember have even since been layered on top of. I take after her.
But my father's, few as there were, were more interesting to me. The open mausoleum door on his forearm. And that is framed with purple flowers. Theres a tall and thin silhouette on his spine, and the basket in it's hand, which was a separate tattoo. He never went into much detail on them, but one could guess.
I look at the car on the inside of my wrist, as they're lowered into the side by side graves. And I know why it appeared two years ago.
The bees were drawn out of the honeycomb on my knee, and the spiderweb on my thigh was now empty. behind it stands a tall silhouette. | France was rife with optimism, peace and prosperity during the late stages of the 19th century. It comes to no surprise that the period is known more commonly today as "La Belle Époque".
From the end of the Franco-Prussian war right up until WWI, the country witnessed a boom in the arts and the economy. Things were positively different during an era that seemed to be trapped in time.
Or so the world wished.
Police crowded the outer corridor of the cell as Chief Berlain sat face to face with the source of commotion.
A young lad of about 17 crouched in the corner of his room, staring back like a cowering dog. His body, thinned to the bone and covered in ink.
Berlain had been here before, 5 years prior to this, with the same prisoner in the very same cell. Yet the boy of the past was no longer there, his face irecognizable.
The warden had recorded a total of 18 more individual markings on his face alone since then. The majority depicted numbers.
Official studies had commenced late that June, but 5 years and 9 months on and the puzzle remained incomplete. Up until now the engravings on his body were a maze they couldn't get out of.
A date was the only clear indication: 10.05.1871 in Roman numerals. The end of the Franco-Prussian war.
That morning the tone was different. Whilst France was enjoying it's prosperity, the men gathered around the cell felt nothing but dread.
The teenager was usually a very calm lad, who did as he was told. But today he had broken down during breakfast and hadn't left his cell corner for hours.
Another date had appeared on his neck, next to the previous numbers. Yet this one marked the end of a supposed era, this one was in the future.
28.06.1918 in the same numerals.
A puzzled Berlain turned to face his colleagues. The time had come to take this beyond their own power and to the government.
But Christophe Berlain had other plans. That night, instead of heading north to Paris, he would take his subject East.
| 2017-08-03T16:01:34 | 2017-08-03T14:24:46 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] One day, completely out of the blue, you start hearing a voice in your head that isn't yours. You realize the voice belongs to an actual person on the other side of the world, and he can hear you too. | "Hi!"
'Hi.'
"Hi!"
'Hi.'
That was how we first met, two toddlers saying hi to each other for hours at a time. Neither of our moms noticed until we were old enough to understand that when a person isn't there, doesn't mean they're gone.
"What are you doing, Sandra?" I would ask when I was nine.
'Homework.'
"Oh nice, me too. What kind?"
'English, you?'
"Math!"
"Kass, stop talking to yourself." My older sister would always say.
"But I'm not, I'm talking to Sandra!"
A time came when imaginary friends were unacceptable and we became smarter about our conversations.
"Like, oh my god! I swear he has the hugest crush for her, and—"
'Kass, my mom's car pulled in, brb.'
"Okay, let me know when you're free."
So while I waited I decided to play some PUBG, an online battle royal. "Augh, this guy..." I cursed when I saw the same xXDUMBRAXx appear at least five times after killing somebody. The number of people diminished as the battle arena shrank smaller and smaller.
And xXDUMBRAXx hasn't died yet, in fact, he claimed another victim.
"This guy!"
'What guy?' Sandra asked. 'The one with the crush?'
"No, this game!"
'Which game?'
"PUBG!"
'Oh, turn around."
"Huh?" Kass turned her character. "DAMMIT!" she howled when xXDUMBRAXx shot her in the face.
Seconds later, Sandra proclaimed. 'Winner, winner, chicken dinner for me!'
"Sandra, that was you!?"
'Apparently!' She laughed. 'I just noticed that we don't communicate normally, do we?'
From that day on, I friended her on steam and always made sure we played duo. | “You take the left on Wilcox and go down two more lights. You’re almost there.” My mind was racing. Steven was almost here. I had been anticipating this for over a year, ever since we started dating. To say it was a long distance relationship was an understatement. I had an episode several years ago when I first heard him. My wife at the time checked me into a mental clinic, but their scans showed no damage. No one could figure out what was wrong with me, why I was suddenly hearing a voice in my head. Deep inside me I knew though that it wasn’t an auditory hallucination. I knew that he was real.
Steven relayed a similar experience back to me. His husband eventually dumped him because he wouldn’t “get help”. He didn’t need help, he wasn’t sick. I wasn’t sick. They didn’t understand. No one understands, no one but us. We talked about our lives, our jobs, our goals. I never thought I was into men before...but I fell in love. Steven lived in New Zealand, so far away from me.
When I dreamed, I could sometimes see glimmers of what he was doing in real time. It quickly became my favorite part of the day, the only time I ever got to see him. That is until today…
“I’m almost there Bradley, just a block or two more.”
My heart raced; I had never been this nervous in my life. Not when I divorced Carol. Not when my children were born. Not even when they told me I wasn’t fit for visitation.
There was a knock at the door. The reverberations ran through me leaving my blood cold. Not now. NOT NOW. THEY’RE TAKING HIM AWAY FROM ME.
The door clicked open and three nurses came in, standing around me. I fought against my restraints, the stark white light blinding me.
“Mr. Baker, you need to calm down. Your blood pressure is sky high. If you keep thrashing about we will have to sedate you.”
“YOU WON’T TAKE HIM FROM ME!” I sputtered in fury, drenching the man. He simply wiped his face and nodded to the two others. They held my arm steady while he took a syringe from the tray. He pressed the needle into my arm and pushed the plunger down, the liquid finding its way inside me.
“Bradley is every….okay….I’m…..locked….you….mental ward?....” He faded away. I hated when they sedate me. I don’t dream when they sedate me. It all spiraled away from me, down deeper into the darkness. The world fell to the left and my body gave out. My mind was coated, and the only sound I could hear was silence.
____
Check out my subreddit /r/thesadbox for more stories. I haven't written in a while so I'm a bit rusty! Hope y'all enjoyed. | 2017-10-01T11:45:40 | 2017-10-01T11:16:43 | 47 | 17 |
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again. | I awoke in the night, the distant sounds of screams altogether too familiar. It didn't sound isolated - they must have found a safe-haven. Hundreds would be massacred. It was just like I said; don't bunch together. Don't rely on each other for support. Survival is all about laying low, keeping quiet and hoping that luck was on your side.
I'd been having a strange dream. It wasn't a nightmare, which was rare already; it was more of a premonition. I'd felt a burning sensation in my hand, as if there were energy coursing through it. The feeling still stuck with me, and I focused on it to try drown out the screams.
********
There were more of them now; towering beasts, eldritch monstrosities. We'd imagined aliens as these advanced beings, visiting us with technology that we could not even comprehend, bestowing knowledge and gifts. But no.
They were unimaginable nightmares, drifting in through space, landing on our forsaken planet and hunting us mercilessly. Our combined efforts only took down a few, and the ensuing nuclear winter only made things worse. And now they hunt us down without rest. It doesn't seem to be for sustenance - they ignore other animals, though they will harm them if it is in their way. No; it feels like eradication. And more come every day.
But the the dreams won't go away. What little sleep I have is filled with feelings of flame and fury; of ominous premonition, of terrifying power. I feel that energy more and more. I suspect that I am going mad, but I'd rather be mad than dead. And judging by my travels, it seems that I am one of the few left with the privilege of choice.
Sleep comes to me eventually, the incessant chittering of the aliens filtering through my dreams of intrigue, of primal power.
*****
I awoke to a sound of crashing, of beastly lumbering.
*I've been found.*
I sprinted from my lair, a crumbling ruin, just as a jagged tentacle pierced through the foundations. Rubble collapsed around me as I leapt through a window, landing on the floor below in a clumsy roll. There was no time to think about the pain - only escape.
I ran as fast as I could, praying that it was only one, praying that it could not keep up. There were many different forms of alien, and most of the massive ones were slow in the city. They could run at least as fast as a man, but the buildings and ruins proved ample obstacles. With a bit of luck, I could survive this. I had done so before.
A sudden crash to my right sent glass flying just ahead of me. An arthropod the size of a large dog landed in front of me, its razor-sharp legs digging into the floor. There was no chance of running from it. But if I climbed the building to avoid it, my pursuer would destroy it as if it was a cardboard box. I had two choices, but either led to death.
My right hand burned, a sharp red glow emitting from my palm. It felt like trapped electricity. Like every bit of primal power focused into a single thought.
A choice:
Shall I **fight**, or **flee**?
****
[Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4fn8/wp_resurge_ii/) | [Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4p1p/wp_resurgence_iii/) | [Part IV (new)](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i65tc/wp_resurgence_iv/)
It's a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' story! Vote on whichever choice you like best, and I hope I won't disappoint :)
/r/CroatianSpy | I don't know how to start here. None of this makes any sense.
I grew up watching the old Superman movies on tape. I grew up wanting to be like the man himself; I always thought I'd do what he did if I ended up with his powers. I remember fantasizing about it maybe a week before first contact; it was a thought I had often.
I told myself I'd skip the subtext and buy an actual Superman costume online before I went flying around the world chucking nukes into deep space and putting out forest fires. So that when people saw me coming, they'd know I was coming to help.
There are a few problems with that now. The first one that comes to mind is, there's no one left to impress like that. The other six survivors don't need or want Superman right now, besides, you guys are all as invincible as I am.
Second, I'm not as good a guy as Clark Kent ever was. I see that now; let me explain. There are seven human beings still alive on Earth; the rest of us were wiped out by aliens. They brought colony ships the size of the Moon, dozens of them; you can see the whole fleet at night. I can't imagine how many of them there are. Hundreds of billions? Trillions?
Trillions of them against seven of us, and we're winning. One of us brought down a colony ship yesterday. Again, this thing was moon-sized and filled with billions of aliens. She took a running start and jumped from the Earth's surface hard enough to punch a hole out the back of the ship. The whole thing just shattered into scrap metal.
I think we should surrender. I haven't said so out loud, not to any of you, but I still think it. Seven of us against trillions of them, and why are we fighting? I don't think it's for revenge, but it's something close. It isn't to save the world; we got these powers too late for that. Therein lies the problem. Nothing we do to these invaders will bring back the people they killled. Our actions from now on can only decide what happens to us and the aliens. I think a trillion lives are worth more than seven, no matter how we ended up in this situation. No matter who those lives are, human or otherwise.
I dunno if you agree with that or not. I dunno which choice Superman would make. I can't even picture him thinking of a moral dilemma like this. To Superman, the right thing to do is instantly obvious. Me though; I have to think on it.
So I thought on it, and I realized something. Whatever the source of our powers is, whether you call it magic or mana or Light or a million other things; there is a source. It's something only humans can use. And we can be reasonably sure evolution just doesn't do this.
I think there's a God. I never believed in Him before first contact, and for a while afterward I kinda figured the existence of aliens confirmed it. I read a book once that had this line about evolution. *There were only two known causes of purposeful complexity. Natural selection, which produced things like butterflies. And intelligent engineering, which produced things like cars.*
This magic, whatever it really is, it didn't evolve. It was created, and whatever entity has the resources to create a source of magic must, by definition, be a god. One that specifically took interest in humans for a number of possible reasons, including ones suggested by a few of our religions. And those religions usually also claim that God has *been* here, to Earth, and spoke in person with His creations. Wherever He is now, he hasn't been paying attention.
One inference leads to another. If magic, then God. If God, then Heaven. If Heaven, then afterlife and souls and *one possible chance* to undo the extinction of the human race and end the conflict with these aliens without murdering them all. God isn't paying attention though, so someone has to go find Him and tell Him to look this way.
I'm leaving. I don't know what will happen to me if I fly too far from Earth or the Sun; maybe the magic will cut off and I'll need air again and I'll die out there in space. I don't even know where I'm going; which way God went; so I'm relying on faith and that sounds like a shitty plan, but I have to do it.
I leave this note to you, the six of you, and I hope you forgive me. I hope you do what you can to spare the enemy's life, and I hope I come back one day to fix this. If not, this is my suicide note. There are worse ways to die.
I have to do this. The chance to save seven billion lives, however slim, is worth the risk to my one life, however great. Now that I think about it, that does sound almost like what Superman might say.
Goodbye. | 2018-02-27T05:33:50 | 2017-12-06T22:42:40 | 341 | 13 |
[WP] As the hero enters the throne room of the dark lord. The throne is empty and the hero's companion says with a grin " Well this has been delightful but I'm afraid the fun is now over.". | As the hero enters the throne room of the dark lord. The throne is empty and the hero's companion says with a grin " Well this has been delightful but I'm afraid the fun is now over."
The hero turned to his companion with a glare and disappointment only a 5 year old crown prince with a wood sword can produce.
“But dad! We didn’t fight the dragonking yet!”
“Its way past your bed time my little hero!” The king kneeled down and took the sword from him and lifted him up. “ You mum would kill me if I let you stay up any longer. We can finish next week. I promise.” The king carried his little boy as the boy started to yawn towards the bedchamber. Behind them the knights that was lying spread across the hallway looked up disappointed, this Saturday evening adventures of the crown princes had been their highlights of the week. Last week they had been zombies, the week before orcs. Today they had been lizard people.
| "No, you can't be..."
He laughed. Not the rich hearty laugh that she'd come to love. This one was cold. Empty. Devoid of any emotion.
Scratch that. It was full of one. Malice. "Oh, but I can, and I am." he laughed again, drawing his sword and pointing it at her throat. "And now, you are all alone."
"But... this doesn't make any sense. You. You helped me get here."
"Of course I did!" he said as if explaining this to a slow child. "To get you here alone."
"We killed your generals together. We... we stopped your army. You mean to tell me all of that was to get me alone? Why?"
"To kill you. Of course."
He turned his back on her, laughing again. She was angry. Humiliated. Confused. The collection of feelings were all melding inside of her. Slowly, an impish grin spread across her face, the kind that only a woman could wear when she knew she had her prey cornered. "That's really too bad for you."
He turned back to look at her, an eyebrow raised. "How do you figure?
She was laughing now.
"What's so funny?" he shouted. Angry.
She laughed louder, cackling now.
His rage was apparent now. He swung his sword at her, missing by a few inches, yet she continued to laugh at him. To taunt him. "What's so damn funny?!"
"I was gonna rock your world," she said, sneering. "When we stopped this, I was gonna give you a night you would never forget."
"I--uh--what?" he said, lowering his sword in confusion. That was always the curse of men. It wasn't hubrus, vanity or greed. It was lust. Simple. Animalistic. Basic.
"Well," she said, drawing her crossbow and aiming it at his heart. "This has been delightful, but I'm afraid the fun is now over."
*edit for formatting. | 2018-01-23T16:58:15 | 2018-01-23T14:54:45 | 502 | 27 |
[WP] You can rewind time at will, but only a couple minutes at a time. Everyone around you believes you are an expert at everything, in reality you use your power to correct every mistake. | You bet I am the sweetest girl you have ever met. I wouldn't hurt a fly! I will always get you the right present, say the right thing, and do the right thing. That time you thought you got away with sleeping with my best friend. That time you thought you got away by winking at that waitress, and that time when I smiled at you warmly when you insulted me with in front of all your friends. I wish I could tell you why I stay. No everyone has the privilege to stab the shit out of the person they hate the most in the world, every single day. Every.Day!
| It can be hard to imagine, because of human design, that by a small margin you can control the time.
I would love, my dear reader, to teach you to control, but only the creator knows the special word. Even if I wrote it, I would have to write again, even if I told it, I would have to tell again. So behold! my dear reader, I will show you how a tide can make you a new creator, one, who feels the time.
I was standing near the ocean, enjoying summer breeze, when a tide, without caution, has swallowed me in a caprice. In the water, there were many, combining in a work of art, shining specks ― but not like fairies! ― like the stars in cloudless night. (That distinction is important: magic, as you know, has no interest for art, only nature, mathematics can tell disorder: "No! There's patterns, here's the list!")
Time is beauty, time is right, time can only be controlled by one, who has the sight that recognizes the reward of living in a loop that happens only once, for it would be a pain to see the order go... You cannot be ideal, but time still finds the way, it can remove the seal and wash away the pain. Once seal is removed, you will find the order, with every single movement it destroys disorder. Now I, my dear reader, can remove your doubt: the scene in the beginning was at an ocean, without flow, there is no time, but it was not at the Pacific, not Atlantic, not in sight were Arctic and Antarctic, Indian was far away. The ocean that remains unheard, it has a lovely name, but only the creator knows this special word. | 2018-03-30T22:12:26 | 2018-03-30T21:13:08 | 219 | 35 |
[WP] One day you are in a pool and dive under. When you come back up, you are in an ocean in a different part of the world. Every time you dive under water and come back up, you are in a different body of water, anywhere in the world. | “Alright son, you’ve got one more chance. Explain slowly, and start from the beginning.”
I knew this was going to be an awkward conversation. Explaining to the officer what had happened was going to be completely out of the question. Same as it was with his partner an hour ago. That’s my super power? Really? He’d never go for it. And at that, the moment I try to prove it, I’m gone anyways.
How else do I explain a California drivers license and selfies at a hotel time stamped two hours ago to a cop in Vermont?
Even worse, how do I explain that I really did just appear in the poor man’s bathtub? | “Wow....” Jeremy had said. Shocked he looked around and saw giant green trees all around him lined with vines and animals. “Wha-“ but before he had time to think he was already on the move, his body floating towards the end of a waterfall. Terrified he started to thrash his arms in every direction possible but to no avail. Finally he stopped and ducked his head under the water.
When Jeremy came back up everything had changed, it was sunny and the water was now a deep blue. “Is this the ocean?” He thought. Everything was so beautiful it was astonishing. Jeremy the had an idea, he proceeded to duck his head under the water over an over again. He flew all over the world from ponds to lakes to pools to rivers to oceans everywhere. He was astonished about his newfound power. Never before had he done anything this noteworthy. Sure there was he time that he almost got hit by a car or when he gave Stephen Curry a high five but never something like this.
However there was one problem....
“How am I going to get home?” Jeremy said aloud. His happiness turned to fear quickly as he realized his current situation. He ducked and ducked and ducked and ducked under the water over and over again but to no avail. He didn’t recognize any of the places that he saw.
“It’s hopeless!” he screamed, angrily at the world. But his words had been lost in the endless ocean. He started to cry then and there. Scared and alone he didn’t know what to do. He then proceeded to duck his head one last time before giving up. Suddenly his eyes stung and he jumped out of he water and onto the concrete. His Mom looked at him shocked, “Jeremy I didn’t know you could hold your breath for that long!” | 2018-10-03T21:14:00 | 2018-10-03T21:06:48 | 63 | 32 |
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King". | Everyone has a title. I’ve always been able to see them, but it didn’t take long to figure out nobody else could. Mom heard me sounding out the text shortly after I learned to read, and asked me what I was doing. When I told her, she laughed and said something about how kids had such vivid imaginations. She didn’t laugh when I asked what a philanderer was when dad got home that night. After that, I learned to keep my mouth shut.
After a couple decades of seeing titles, I don’t really pay much attention to them anymore. Most of them aren’t all that interesting: “Jeff’s Mom”, “The Mediocre Rapper”, “The Mayonnaise Eater”, “Incel 554280”, etc.
Today, though, I see one that made me do a double take. “The Forgotten King”.
“Hello, can I help you?” He asks politely. “Are you looking for a specific book today?”
I glance around the store, remembering why I’m here. I saw this used book shop a few weeks ago, and thought I might be able to find a gift for Mom here. She likes old novels. Says they have more character.
“Umm, yeah.” I mumble, trying to keep my eyes on his face, not the distracting title hovering over his head. “Do you, uh, have anything by John Smith?”
So sue me. It’s hard to think of a fake name when you’re distracted.
His eyelid twitches as he stares at me. “Are you an idiot?”
“Uh...” I avoid his gaze, my eyes wandering around the store. “It’s possible. I’ve been called that often enough.”
Desperate to change the subject, my eyes fall on another customer browsing in the cooking section.
“What in the blazes is The Order of Tesswold?”
Next thing I know, he’s grabbing me by the collar and hauling me over the counter. “Who are you?Where did you hear that name?”
Struggling for an explanation, my eyes flicker to a mirror, to the title hovering over my own head. I’ve never shared it with anyone before, but I’ve never met anyone with a title as strange as mine, either.
“I’m The King’s Eye.”
| Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get.
Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him!
"Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully
"Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers
"It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake
"I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man
"Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?"
"Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?"
"Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes."
"Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion
"Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered
"Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood
"But but, I thought the King was killed?"
"Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King
"Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired
"You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped
"Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?"
"MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud
"You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King
"Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
| 2019-01-08T11:03:34 | 2019-01-08T10:16:15 | 583 | 12 |
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball. | “Come here, Babs!” I called to my dog. She trotted over to me, and bowed her head, allowing me to attach her to her leash. Babs licked my hand, and led me to my door. Gripping the doorknob, I walked outside.
It was truly a miserable sight. The sky was grey and thick with smog as smoke filled the air. Cars covered the roads, now having no true purpose anymore. Everything seemed rundown, as if an entire army had invaded and ruined everything in their sight. But...no. Some sort of government experiment had gone wrong, and when some mysterious energy or gas filled the air, it managed to blind everyone. Everyone but me, or so it seems.
It was a horrible curse. There was no exceptions, even for myself, as my left eye had gone completely blind, and my right was blurry whenever I stared at long distances for too long. If I’m correct, thats far sighted. Though I can’t remember exactly. It didn’t matter anyway, as the world seemed like a wasteland filled with people.
“Fuck-!” A female bellowed. Turning my head, I watched as a female fell straight onto her face. She stifled a loud groan, and stood back up with her stick, and walked away. I frowned. Despite my newfound freedom and everything thats happened, I’ve felt extremely depressed. Oh, and did I forget to mention that some people have figured out that I can see? I’ve learned from listening to the radio that people are out to find me. It’s a scary thought, honestly. I’ve went too many nights sleepless, completely paranoid that they are going to find me.
I began walking down the road. Twisting and turning in between overturned cars and rundown buildings. Suddenly, I felt a hand clasp hard around my shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing!” I bellowed to the mysterious man.
“You can see, can’t you?” He snarled, hastily turning me around. I gazed into his eyes. They were a sickening milky white, with black infused tears streaming down his cheeks leaving marks that looked similar to mascara. I frowned deeply.
“No- I-I-I can’t see.” I stuttered.
He squinted hard, trying his best to see, before sighing. “I can’t prove you can...” He shook his head, gazing hard at the ground. “Go away...”
After he had let go, I slowly walked away. My dog was a barking fit, though, I was extremely confused. How the hell did he know I was standing there, much less was able to grab me while I was *walking* ...?
What was happening to this world? And why was *I* the only one left with sight? | Note: apologies for any spelling or grammar as I was writing this on my phone because I had to capture the idea that came to mind.
"I've got it." The sudden noise wakes you from your afternoon nap among the waste. "I've got the seeing eye."
You turn your head slightly, human waste tumbling off your neck. You've grown used to the smells and to not taking care of yourself. You've also grown used to silence. So you look at the speaker.
She is a young girl - possibly pre-adolescent but it is difficult for you to judge. She is as scrawny as she is tall, a small wasted shadow with ragged clothes, matted mud splattered hair that was probably once brown and she is holding up a round object. Even from a close range you can barely tell it is an eyeball.
'No. Used to be an eyeball,' you think. Dripping with gore and no doubt stinking of decay. You can't help but wonder why a lone girl in the Graveyards would believe it was the one seeing eye. 'My bloody eye.'
The scavengers are onto her in a flash, rising up from the surrounding piles of bones. Their crazed mouths drool, saliva cascading across their chests: you count at least ten of the creatures. And for a moment you pity them. Until you remember cynically that they were the reason you had come to the Graveyards all those years ago.
The Crazies, would tear anyone to pieces for a taste of flesh. They had some strange religion based around devouring the sightless eyes of non-believers. All of which was meant to give you a modicum of safety from the outside world.
The past fifteen years brought nothing but hell. Running from the sightless world administrators who realised the value of your one seeing eye.
Damn, you are some reverse Sauron. You smile at the thought, then grimace as the Crazies close in on the little girl. It's never been pleasant to watch intruders torn to shreds.
Of course, while you realise sheer luck brought you to the Graveyard and the Crazies, you refuse to accept this reality. Luck is for the blind.
You blink as the girl tosses the eye down onto the ground. Any thoughts about the corpse she stole it from cease as the eye rolls down across the bone stacks, blinking with a single red light. Then a flash illuminates everything in blinding white light and the Crazies scream as fire rinses away their insanity.
It takes half a second for the flare to hit you. You have no time to respond except to realise that the eyeball was, in stead, a Hellfire Grenade. A weapon you once invented in a previous life.
The blast sends you flying. Sharp piercing pain shreds through your shoulder and chest, followed by a wet clammy sensation. You hear a loud scream and realise it was your own involuntary noise. You've been silent so long you forgot the sound of your own voice.
The next thing you realise is that you have a large bone shard poking through the centre of your chest. It's not yours.
'The bloody thing just pierced right through me.' The thought stuns you. You've been running for so long that the thought of actually dying is a sudden surprise. But here it is at last. Death staring at you from a bone shard in the chest.
A heavy weight thuds onto your legs and you groan. Then you see the girl from before. She's running her hands across your body, checking the injuries. Then she looks up at you.
No, she looks at you. And you feel the cold chill of true shock. She pulls out a knife and with an apologetic smile drives it towards your face.
'She too has one good eye.'
Everything turns dark with the settling blindness of death. | 2019-04-19T19:57:36 | 2019-04-19T19:39:38 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] Your village holds a special ceremony for every child's 13th birthday. Under the midday Sun, the child's shadow would be viewed by the elders to determine what the child would grow up as. However on the day of your ceremony, you did not cast any kind of shadow. | "Child", the Grand Elder growled low, towering over me with his elaborate robes and ornate cane. His bushy brows, scruffled beard and frumpy dreads flaying which way and throw made good work to hide his expression.
"An explanation is necessary", Even his voice, while booming, did not immediately invoke either empathy or fury.
The rest of the village lay silent and still. The only sound came from the light crackling of the goblet that stood between myself and the Elder, and a hushed wind that spoke more for me than our collective silence could. I was petrified, surrounded on all sides by my tutors, my friends... even Mother and Father, gawking at me, as if only now discovering I was the undesirable I always knew myself to be. The silence was unbearable, as if they expected an evocation or some grand proclamation, anything to explain why I was the anomaly I was.
I looked down once more for good measure, not that it would be any different from the countless other times I checked since waking. After 13 years, my shadow decided to wander off without me; today, of all days. Of all days, it would be today, was all that kept ringing in my head. The one day of my life where my shadow would mean something?
"E-E-Elder..." I stammer, unable to stop my fidgeting hands and shaking legs, "Honest as rain, I haven't any idea what's wrong with me..."
I flinch as he clasps a hand against my shoulder, his grip spindly yet firm. I look up, expecting fire, but I'm shocked to meet warmth, an intensity of his eyes I've never once seen, and a smile only hinted by his rising wrinkles and beard.
"The rest cannot see you", the Elder states simply.
I don't know how to respond... was this another of the Elder's veiled instructions?
He gently places another hand on my other shoulder and turns me around, pointing to the snowy path I walked to get here, "Look at your trail to me, child..."
I looked at the snow, calm and pristine... it took me but a moment to see... I didn't leave a single trace of my presence. I was more than invisible, but simply not there. It wasn’t that the village was gazing at me... but through me, as the Elder spoke with the wind.
The Elder turns me around, his stare only growing in intensity. "Child... you are our Voidwalker." | &#x200B;
The eye of God is ever watchful as it dances across the sky. It goes to the ends of the world, rolling across the distant waves of salted waters where no dare to go, but it never leaves us out of it’s sight. It never leaves anything out of its sight. And so grateful are we for that, for though inward all things are darker than the deepest shade, He provides us with harvest and fish, fresh from the dust and seas where He created all things such as ourselves.
Yet due to being inwardly dark, we cannot endure His loving stare for long, and so He moved the earth for us, and taught how to weave tents so that we might take refuge in the lesser dark. The lesser dark, ‘shadows’ as the Elders call them, are not only our shelters, but also our means of communicating with God. Much like the roundness of His eye, he speaks in circles, the winding travelling path who’s shaded length tell us what the earth and sea shall give us.
And so it was now, on the length of thirteen extended shadows, that the Elder’s would see what fate God had for me.
As one approached me, I couldn’t help but shudder. The Elders, earth handlers, livestock handlers, and fish handlers all had to suffer under the intense gaze of our Lord longer than most, but our Elders took the worst of it. They lacked a healthy pale complexion, instead bearring a color darker than the sand that tickled our feet. And dotted across their face and bodies were splotches of unnerving colors and shapes, the results of us imperfect creatures living under the gaze of God for too long. Yet a willing sacrifice, for the betterment of our people.
And it I sought to make such a sacrifice too. I always looked up to the Elders for braving our God’s gaze, staring Him down and understanding his circle across the sky. I did not want to be a handler, I wanted to be one who truly saw, just like the Elders. So as he beckoned me to step out of the shadows, I suppressed my wince as the heat of The Lord’s sight came upon my bare flesh.
I stood between the three Elders, one to my front, the other two at my sides. Surrounding us was the village, and in a motion by the Elder in front of me, we all closed our eyes, embracing our inner darkness, and cried out to God to illuminate my future in prayer.
Yet it was then that I felt a chill, much like when the Elder came close, and a scream had broken through from the village. I opened my eyes.
All was covered in shadow…but that’s not possible. We weren’t near a pillar of earth. The Elders were looking up, we all followed their gaze as panic was beginning to wrap itself around my people.
The Eye of God was gone. A blackness, much like our inner dark, had taken it’s place. And yet…we could faintly see from behind the darkness, the sight of our Lord was there, but what could be so bold as to stand in front of Him? We had no time to question it however, for the darkness soon went on its way, vanishing past the Eye of God. Disarray was taking our people as the Elders desperately sought to calm them, but not I. Nearby a tall pillar of earth stood, and I climbed it, fighting the sting of His haze on my back, and from a loud voice I cried down to the crowd as the Elders looked and took my words in amazement.
God had blinked for me. | 2019-10-24T13:33:51 | 2019-10-24T12:46:54 | 63 | 10 |
[WP] In your world, friendship is literally magic. However, your bond must be true. Magic is bluer the more friends you have, and it's also stronger. Your cousin is the second strongest sorcerer alive. The strongest? You, with red magic and an absolute hatred for everyone you've ever met. | I've often thought, that Ambition, must be fuelled by contempt. After all, desires don't rise from nothing. You start off young, and carefree, and the more you are wronged by people - the more people take advantage of you - the more you strive to be better than them.
And it's a self-perpetuating loop. The more contemptuous of a person you are, the less likely you are to show weakness to others that might help humanise yourself in their eyes. Because they live privileged lives, oblivious to the humanity of even their worst enemy. They make me sick.
My cousin stands atop a podium right now, he's giving a speech about some complex techniques for a mind-link. Essentially, a way to fuse together two minds and live in perfect unity from then on. I find it intriguing for the applications this has to confuse and potentially torture individuals you feel have wronged you, by linking them together without their knowledge.
I could give a lecture like that. Stand tall in front of everyone, so distanced. No doubt he hates it up there, how could anyone so involved in positive magic, *friendly* magic, enjoy a position of authority? And he's so ignorant of me too, he knows I'm stronger than him. And that I made myself stronger than him. Why must I be the one to sit at the back of the hall, not that I don't prefer the isolation.
We were both born into the same family, his parents died and mine adopted him as their son. But he'll never be my brother.
Never.
I'm just that much more skilled than him, to think someone might lump him and I together as "Family" sounds disgusting to me. I made sure of it, in fact. That there would be no person in the world who would ever think of me and him as "family". Especially after the situation with "our" parents.
...
Not that it stops him from acting like we're best buddies.
Back. Around twenty-four years ago when we were, in everyone's eyes, brothers; we would play together. He would go out, knock on everyone's doors in the neighbourhood, and they would all play games together. And I would come out, and join in, then he'd act like I had always been there.
His nickname for me, was "dumb-o". Or "stupid-o". Imagine that, a twelve year old boy calling his seven year old brother, dumb.
And so, I put two and two together. I wasn't invited to play, because I was dumb. And from that, I put him on a pedestal. He must be smart, if I'm dumb. And he became my idol. All through my entire childhood, looking up to a paragon of friendliness, and also the only person I'd ever truly, genuinely interact with.
After years and years of improving myself, becoming smarter, becoming better than everyone I saw as smarter than me, smarter than even the teachers, I finally realised.
He was never smart.
And on that severance, I became a real outcast. From then on, my magic, which had always been a weak blue, turned blood red. A beautiful, familiar, crimson. I got my wish. I was the best, the cleverest, and the most intelligent.
Voluntarily, I decided to fake being unable to use magic. At fourteen, I became a magic-mute. I had never heard of red magic, ever, and I doubt anyone else had too. Which meant, either I'm the first, which is unlikely, or there have been multiple before me who were all discreetly killed. I'd never risk it.
I stopped interacting with him. I started calling him my cousin. I was finally free of him. In fact, I made certain of our separation. Our parents would get in the way, try to force me to make up with him, so I killed them. I killed them with my gift, in such a perfect way that they could never trace it back to a magic mute, certainly not a magic mute with such weak power anyway.
He knew. He knew what I did, though. He didn't know how, so I drew on my learning, and used my newfound power to remap his entire brain to avoid that memory.
Contempt was my new power, so fitting for jealousy to be both my motivation and my method for becoming stronger and smarter than everyone else. I could rise right up to the top, over the glass houses of friendship which would shatter if only a single person throws a stone, and ascend into my mountainous and impenetrable stone castle.
So I sit here, and wait at the back of the hall. Watching my little cousin try to justify the ideas that I give him. We still live together. I made us live together. He made so, *so* many friends when he was younger, and he still keeps in contact with all of them. So many genuine connections.
Well, he shouldn't be surprised. When you connect yourself by little blue strings to other people, don't be surprised when a puppeteer takes control. | Red wisps of light engulfed the scene as the air grew thick with the weight of magic. Two figures stood in the clearing, duelling. The first was the strongest sorcerer alive: Axel. Billowing black cloak blowing behind him, he raised his hand as daggers of crimson rained from the increasingly darker sky. In an effort to shield herself, Lei barely blocked the attack with a cerulean sphere. One dagger, sharp and scarlet, pierced through. That was enough. The shield shattered into glimmers of cobalt leaving the girl defenceless. Ruby and sapphire stones clashed until finally the girl stopped fighting. The crimson was relentless.
“I’m not a killer Lei.” Spite radiated from Axel’s voice. “Why do you keep on testing me?” Axel launched another attack. Lei only saw red. Malicious and malevolent crimson magic. The weight dragged her to the ground. Fingertips touching cold, hard dirt, she tried to focus herself.
“Correction. You won’t kill family.” Lei paused for a moment allowing the solemn mood to reach Axel. Axel wasn’t one to feel remorse, but a echo of regret he couldn’t suppress reverberated around his body. Navy eyes lit up as Lei dug her fingers into the dirt beneath. Even the small effort sent pain ravaging her body. Veins of indigo shot through the ground until it reached their target. Wrapping around his body, the veins dragged Axel to the umber soils below.
“That’s why your ‘friends’ aren’t here I presume.” The way it was spoke. Lei tensed letting herself give way to anger. “Oooh am I corrupting you cousin...?” Axel was enjoying this. The smug attitude he held didn’t help Lei calm down either. Signature red had softened to a purple now. Magically, a fist materialised in the air, it floated towards Lei until it gripped her by the neck. The weight chaining her to the ground was gone but so was her air supply. Aggressively she grasped the fist as it turned from purple to red, the grip weakened and she breathed in, choking on the thickness of the residue of the magic they were leaving behind.
“Why won’t you try friendship. If you finally accepted mine we would be the most powerful..” He cut her off. Taking note of her sudden ‘interest in power’ he freed his own binds, now bluer than before.
“The power is merely a bonus, the satisfaction I get from your frustration knowing you want to ‘save me’ is all I need” Axel smirked. This was the closest he’d gotten to corrupting his cousin before. Something was off though. The heaviness of his actions had disintegrated. Hesitation screamed at him. Begging him to listen to a realisation he was blocked from Meanwhile, Lei was silent. His hatred had reached her. The air became thicker, the lapis lightness that trailed her had dissipated.
The sky was now onyx black, only the light stained with blood and water gave sight to the scene. The stars seemed to go out like bulbs. Neither of the two realised it but they were getting further from reality. A purple barrier surrounded them. As the purple deepened around them, the ground began to fade beneath them, not so they were falling, so they were floating... One individual spawned a ruby sword and lunged for the other. In defence, the other created their own sapphire sword. The two locked blades as a purple explosion launched the two back. Clarity crashed over them. Axel’s glowing blue eyes met Lei’s matching red eyes.
The two had switched alignments.
"Seems I corrupted you then." Axel gave a pained laugh. Lei's look was filled with a more menacing aura. Azure dress now magically changed. Blonde hair turned red at the tips. Whilst Axel's obsidian cloak turned a softer grey. Crimson accents now blue.
Slowly, he crouched to touch the ground and refocus himself. He had to refocus himself. He had to. Although, as he reached to touch taupe soil, his hands touched nothing but a blank void. Eyes widened. Breathe quickened as he took in the new scene. "Lei!" Axel's voice sounded desperate now, pleading perhaps. Lei ignored him sprinting towards him, sword readied. "Cousin!" So close she could cut him down, he said two words, two quiet words, two words that carried weight, weight enough to bring her back. "Ground yourself."
Suddenly, she halted. Taking a breath, she noticed the thickness of the air, the lack of ground. Or sky. Or stars. Or anything. It was a purple abyss. "Axel..." Voice wavering she cried out for her cousin. Instinctively, he held her in case of any rapid change to their environment.
"Ideas, ideas, ideas..." He had one. "For Lei." Immediately, Axel pushed his cousin away. As she looked at him, a contorted mess of hurt and confusion, she watched as he raised a hand holding a scarlet orb. Hurling it at her, she didn't move. The impact was deafening. Lei's eyes glowed blue before closing. Both fell into the void.
It felt like they would fall forever and never all at the same time. Just as this feeling sank in, Axel felt dirt on his fingers. Smiling, he stood up. Glancing at his cousin in blue, he used magic to heal the wound. Then he walked away, red aura dimming. Behind him, footsteps ran towards the fallen girl. The alive girl. Whilst he kept moving. Alone.
*Honestly I need to edit some parts I didn’t have much time, so if I have more I’ll edit and elaborate when needed. Maybe I’ll continue the story if I’m not busy...
*Edit 1 - changed the story slightly.
*Edit 2 - I will definitely try and develop the story soon - thank you so much for the silver - this is only my second comment !
*Edit 3 - I'll probably leave this story here, unless any major plot holes, spelling mistakes etc.
Thanks for reading ! | 2020-10-03T17:00:22 | 2020-10-03T16:33:24 | 2,430 | 166 |
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