prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] A group of ants stumbles upon an abandoned ant colony. Inside, they find cryptic warnings scratched on the walls by a series of past inhabitants, foretelling impending doom wrought by something called "the Human". | "My lady, you summoned me to your chamber?" the Minister of State said cautiously as he entered the throne room. He had just seen the general in charge of defenses stomping out, and knew the war effort was not going particularly well.
Servants pulled the doors open all the way, exposing him with nowhere to hide from her piercing gaze.
"Yes," she called out. "Step forward."
He entered the center of the room, getting a full view of the queen.
"Our preparations for the coming doom from the 'Human' are going poorly," the queen said bluntly, waving her pincers in despair. "Has their been any word from our allies? Anyone we can count on?"
"Erm, yes," the Minister of State responding, patting the messages in his breast pocket.
"Well....?" she asked.
"I'm afraid it isn't going particularly well on that front either..."
She groaned as he pulled out the first correspondence.
"The moth community regrets your current plight and wishes that there were some way that we could help your war effort. However, we ourselves have sustained heavy losses at the Battle of Porch Light and find ourselves unable to come to your aid at this time. We wish you the best in this conflict, but we sadly cannot participate."
The queen nodded, trying to stay positive. "That's OK; there isn't much they could do anyway."
The Minister of State agreed, tossing that letter to the side.
"Let's see here..." he shuffled through the notes. "Ah, the ladybugs." He unfolded the letter. "Your Majesty, we wish that our services could be useful in this conflict. However, the humans seem to find us adorable. They are apparently unaware of our fearsome reputation and many successful campaigns against the Aphid threat. Should we join the battle, we would not be able to contribute very much."
The queen sighed.
"Here's one from the bee community," he said slowly. "We too have battled the humans for many years. They constantly plunder our home, stealing wax and honey. We're utterly powerless to stop them, so we have reached an uneasy truce: we now live in their white boxes and allow them some of our goods. Should we join this battle on the side of the Ants, I'm afraid it would upset the delicate balance."
The Queen heaved herself up in a sudden fit of rage. "COWARDS!" She called out to no one in particular. "Is there NO ONE who will help us??"
"There is one, Your Majesty." the minister said cautiously.
"WELL?" she roared.
He unfolded the dirty, stained note and held it up to the light. "Ahem: 'Oh yeah, baby. We'll fuck those bitches up! We'll fuck those bitches up *good*!!'" The Minister lowered the paper slowly. "That's all it says."
"Please don't say..." the Queen started, putting one hand over her eyes. "Please..."
"Yes," said the Minister. "It's the Wasps." | "For the last time, there is no Human", cried Dawkins, his eyes almost rolling into his brain as he spoke to the crowd.
Heavens, were they stupid.
"If there is no human", sounded an elderly woman's voice, "What is the rain? And the voice?"
Dawkins sighed. It was tiring, discussing with those simpletons. "The rain falls from the sky, it is a scientific event that
happens through the evaporation and then condensation of water in the clouds."
"The big rain, the one that fell today, is not like the rain from droplets in the sky, you know that!" Came another voice.
Dawkins gave up, shaking his head as he was booed off the stage.
Some ants just wanted to believe, no matter what.
Ever since they found the writing on the wall. "Beware of the Human and the acid rain", ants had gone crazy.
And then it rained, earlier, and of course, everyone was convinced the rain felt less like water, and more like fire. Acid. Citric. Evil.
Insisting they could hear voices from over the anthill, as the water poured down. Human voices, like thunders in the sky, speaking in unknown
languages of impending doom.
Lunatics. Crazy ants.
*Fanatics*, though Dawkins, making his way home through the main tunnel street.
He felt a drop, on his arm. With a chuckle, he wiped the water away.
*There it is again*, he though. *the so called 'acid devil rain'.*
Ants were such idiots, with their silly beliefs in the supernatural. Their insistence in assuming that what would destroy
them wouldn't be themselves, but a force beyond their imagination. Some kind of evil god. The 'Human'.
A second drop. Then a third.
Dawkins wiped the water again, bringing his wet hand close to his nose. He smelled it.
Acid. A strong, alkaline smell, like a drink.
*I'm imagining things*, he though, forcing himself to keep walking.
Another drop. Then another, then another. Then a hundred, then a thousand.
Soon, he was soaked. He stopped, in the middle of the street tunnel. All around him, ants stuck their faces outside little holes in their homes, watching the empty
street with scared eyes, then closing the curtains behind them.
He looked up. Water, the acid water, was dripping down from every orifice of the anthill. More, much more than ever
before.
*What was going on?*
"It's the doomsday!" Cried a hobo ant, running across the tunnel to the other side. "The acid rain is now stronger than
ever! We were warned! The Human is here!"
The ant disappeared on a hole in the opposite wall.
Dawkins looked up, then ahead at the empty street tunnel again.
That's when he heard the voice. A thunderous, deep voice, like nothing he had heard before.
It spoke in a language he couldn't understand; yet, inside him, Dawkins knew the words spoke of nothing but evil.
Doom. Death.
*The Human God*, Dawkins though, feeling every inch of his body dripping with the cold feeling of the acid water that
poured from above, all around him. To his sides, some constructions were starting to crumble, big, solid walls falling apart with the
weight of the water that kept falling from somewhere evil, right over their heads.
*I didn't believe, and now I'm being punished*, Dawkins though, falling to his knees. Ignoring the
meaning of the words that thundered above his head, the Human God words, Dawkins dropped all the way to the floor, face touching the wet dirty, eyes pressed
closed as he listened to the thundering sound of death, one last time.
It was the end.
"Should I light it?" Sounded the first thunder voice, with a chuckle.
"Wait, I think I have another deodorant can somewhere... Nah", cried another, a second, even more powerful sounding
voice. "Light the match."
| 2015-01-14T17:26:56 | 2015-01-14T15:26:29 | 212 | 67 |
[WP] Everybody in the world has a superpower that compliments their soulmates superpower. When together, both their powers increase in strength exponentially. You have the most useless power ever, when one day......
Edit: Wow! This has blown up.. Massive thanks for the gold, it's great to see my prompt inspiring so many great stories.
'Til next time peeps... | I've lived a pretty sheltered life.
You'd think the power to use the powers of those surrounding you would be awesome in a world where everyone has a power of their own but you'd be dead wrong. Lots of people hurt themselves and others when their powers first manifest. There are of course lots of people with powers of little consequence, but the major powers are often quite debilitating in the beginning. Those that became great had to learn how to control their powers and I was sorely lacking in that department. While I was able to copy the powers of those around me, I always lacked the control to take advantage of them. I once set my house on fire because some kind of fire manipulator was passing by my house while I had a bad dream. I have broken many things just because someone with mediocre super-strength was to close by while I was working on something.
When your powers are fluctuating all the time it is quite impossible to learn control, so all these powers were more trouble than they were worth and I generally tried to stray away from others so as not to cause trouble for anyone or even myself. I really thought I was little more than a big disaster waiting to happen ever since my power manifested.
When they first showed the inhibitors I was quite intrigued. Finally there was a way for me to keep my powers suppressed so I could be around others without too much trouble. I remember how incredibly happy I was when I got mine and it has truly changed my life.
So I bet you understand how scared I was at first when my inhibitor got destroyed in that attack earlier today, but you probably also know what has brought me hereby now.
While I was scared at first I quickly noticed something was different. I knew exactly how to control all the powers I had available. I knew their limits and their potential and I could use them all. I managed to fight of two of the most dangerous villains we know. Both of them incredibly powerful on their own and together they have leveled cities in the past. today though I managed to stop them singlehandedly. I think they didn't take it well to be defeated to by some unknown guy with a scrubby beard and a cheap shirt, but that's not too important at the moment.
I tend to talk a lot when I am nervous and I am really not used to doing something like this. I mean I told you I've tried to avoid others for a long time now, but you know how they say that when we find our soul-mates our powers will grow exponentially?
I don't want to put any pressure on you but I'd just like to ask you one simple question: "Would you like to go on a date sometime?" | John and I were heading to the pub to do the speed dating we signed up for. We hoped to see if we can find our soulmate. John was able to see 5 seconds in to the future. Which was good, but not great, and was hoping he can see farther. He wonders how far he would see if he finds his soulmate. I, on the other hand, can pop like a small firework. I just make a loud noise and throw off enough energy to move a leaf, an inch away from me.
As we approach the pub, we notice a few people showing off what they can do. One guy was able to levitate 2 inches, off the ground. Another girl was able to create water drops from her finger tips. One person was just blue skinned. One girl seemed to be getting hit a few times, while one guy managed to balance a bottle on his finger.
We go around the tables, trying to get to know each other for two minutes. I can see John flirting his way, knowing what to say, since he can see if they like his answer or not, before they know. His power is not that bad, since it gets him laid more times than I can count. I can see him writing her number on a scratch sheet of paper, before she gives it to him. Another deal sealed for him tonight.
The timer goes off and we switch seats. I move over and notice her right away. Long black silk hair. Around 4 ft, 8 in. 100 lbs. Hazel eyes, and ruby red lips. She says her name is Lucy and has really tough skin. I say my name is pop, and my power is to Rudy. She laughs and wants to know more of this power. I apologize and say my name is Rudy, and have the power to pop. I asked her about her power, and she explains that it takes a lot to hurt her. She said she once got hit by a golf club, and didn't feel a thing.
She told me to hit her as hard as I could, and she wouldn't feel it. I give her a weird look, but she insist. I give her a small shoulder tap, but she insist I hit her harder. I tap her harder and it feels really hard. She insisted I give her a good punch, and don't hold back. So I humor her and punch her arm really hard. This time it felt like hitting a steel wall. She then has a concerned look on her. She says that her body has always been able to take a hit, but never turned hard as stone before.
She asks me to show her my power next. I say it is not very interesting as hers, but she insisted. So I breathe in and hold my hand out to a paper and concentrate on popping. I can feel the energy building up and just as I'm about to pop, I can hear John jump off his seat and run towards me. He yells for me to stop, but it's too late. I can feel it coming. The energy build up was intense. I can hear myself pop, and tried to aim towards the paper, but John's distraction caused me to pop a coin. It flies towards John's speed date at great speed, but luckily John manages to jump between the coin and the woman, and prevent the coin from hitting her.
I apologize and he mentions how the coin would've hit her eye, causing permanent blindness on that eye, but good thing he saw it before it happened.
At the end of the day, I got a number and John got 4 numbers. We were satisfied. We didn't find our soulmate but we know we will get laid, and for us, that is as good as we want for now.
Edit, words. | 2015-10-10T08:55:28 | 2015-10-10T08:42:59 | 54 | 21 |
[WP] When you were a child, you saw your parent(s) get killed by a delusional man who claimed he was a time traveler. You thought he was just crazy, but as years pass and you grow older, your best friend starts to look eerily similar to your parent(s) killer. | "Why, Kent?" I said, voice low and raspy. "Why go back and kill my parents?"
He didn't answer; just stood and stared at me. Was that pity in his stoic blue eyes? I wanted to tear him apart, and almost by rote I recalled all the various ways I had planned to do it already, with every contingency accounted for.
"They were good people. And you *know* what their deaths--their *murders* did to me."
Still no response; just that eerie, supernatural quiet. I was having trouble keeping the rage from spilling into violence.
"*Answer me*, damn it."
He took off his glasses and began to clean them, eyes staring down at his hands while he did so. "I'm sorry. You know I am. But there was no other way."
He stopped cleaning, but instead of putting the glasses back on, he simply raised his eyes and met my angry, broken gaze. *"This world needs a Batman."* | June 13th, 1999. This day was burned into my memory and because of it I found my life's work. In broad daylight a man barged through the door and killed both of my parents and my sister, but when he turned to me he didn't shoot... He just looked me in the eyes and told me that he was from the future and he left. From that day forward I swore that I would find him and kill him. I inherited enough money that I was able to distance myself from the rest of the world to work on my new obsession. In the basement of the house that my family was slaughtered I made my machine. Never letting anyone to see what I was making because that could be how this nightmare started. I never really believed that the monster was actually from the future, but just to be safe I shrouded my invention in secret. Finally, 17 years to the day, I had finished it. My time machine. Just as I punched in the date I hear the phone ring. I never disconnected the phone because of the answering machine, but no one had ever called the number before today. It was an old friend who had moved to India before my family was taken and he was back in town for the weekend. Hearing his voice it created a flood of memories of what life was like before my obsession took over and so I caved and told him what I had done with my life. Through my sobs he says that this could make a lot of money for the both of us. I tell him that to preserve as much of the future that I could I was going to destroy the machine after I stopped the murder. He asked me to wait until he was there so that he could help and so I waited. Within the hour the doorbell rang and I unlocked the door and let my friend in. Then I saw him. I saw his eyes, the killer's eyes. He said no hard feelings but the money was to good to pass up.
He ended my nightmare there, and left to start it again. | 2016-06-13T07:51:36 | 2016-06-13T06:50:11 | 89 | 16 |
[WP] Eye colour means everything here. Brown control the earth, blue controls the water, white controls the sky. There are so many colours and each important but you were the first born with yellow eyes. | Every colour has a power.
Brown controls the earth.
Blue controls the water.
White controls the sky.
There are many colours, and some are more common than others.
Grey, the colour of ashes, is the most common colour. Grey controls fire.
The least common was Purple, the eye colour of the royal family that has ruled for millennia, and the controllers of shadows.
It *was* Purple.
Until me.
I'm Yellow.
The first Yellow.
And I can control people. | No one is suppose to be amazing, not really. Life is suppose to be an ordinary struggle to continue living an ordinary life until the eventual ordinary death. Maybe some people could accomplish amazing things, but not someone from such an ordinary past as myself. My mother was an ordinary green eye, only capable of keeping the flowers on the table healthy. My father was a white eye, but only strong enough to create a soft breeze on the warm summer days.
Why then did I have yellow eyes? And why did I have an amplitude with my color in the 99th percentile? I thought that maybe it was a fluke, a glitch in the magical system we lived in. It would have made sense, since my powers appeared non-existant. I couldn't ever control anything, no element would bend to my whim. Still, I lived in the modern day, and the modern day uncovered the true potential of my power.
They say a green eye will weep with joy when they first see a forrest as a kid, and that the blue eye with smile all day when they find an ocean. Every color is attracted to their element, and when I got to visit the experimental Tokamak fusion reactor as a college graduate student, I knew I was in love. The tour guide yelled for me as I ran towards the machine, and the security tried to stop me before I could get close. I faintly recall that one of them may have even shot me, not that it mattered. Once my hand touched the side of the reactor, everything changed. | 2016-08-08T11:30:41 | 2016-08-08T11:27:39 | 55 | 26 |
[WP] We contact alien life and find that the vast majority of aliens exist in a slower time frame. Humans are perceived as extremely agile, mentally quick, and have very short lives. | The Strangers frightened us, at first, and, looking back at the old texts, I'm sure we terrified them, as well. Imagine walking into your kitchen and discovering the roaches are all out in the light, and have decided to form a parliament. Now imagine if they sent an embassy to you. *That's* what we must have been to them. To us, they were forces of nature, colossi operating a loose empire that spanned galaxies. I think what frightened us the most, at least at first, was that they were all so *similar* – though they, like us, had no way to go faster than light, every settlement of theirs seemed nearly identical. There were no major cultural divergences, no heterodoxies among a people who might not hear from the most distant reaches of their empire for millennia. For humans, such an idea was insane – some wondered if they were really "alive" at all.
We couldn't communicate – not directly. They were the ones who broke the barrier, though, in humanity's defense, they'd started on the project before we knew they existed. They kidnapped a few of our number from one of the outer colonies, and… sampled them, using the results to breed a string of pseudo-human creatures with progressively more alien minds, growing more like themselves. Supposedly, the process took "mere millennia" – their words, not mine. We had a way to communicate, if only by playing Telephone.
The first thing we did, of course, was find out a better way to communicate – a more direct one. It took perhaps two centuries to come up with a mathematical code that satisfied both parties, after which the demi-humans were quietly "disposed of" by both parties. Humanity had never been comfortable with them, and the Strangers, well… the translators were a tool, and they had a better one now.
That, we discovered, was the *truly* terrifying thing about them. We manufactured tools from metal and plastic; they *grew* them, sometimes taking eons to breed the perfect servitors. Their starships were something between whales and seedpods; their breathing apparati, mutualistic plants; their cold-weather clothing, bloodsucking mammals covered in dense fur. From their perspective, of course, it made far more sense; living tools may not last as long, but they could reproduce, and the extra time it took to get a working design paid off in resources saved in under one of their lifespans. But to us, they appeared as demigods, shaping whole ecosystems for their convenience – and not in the haphazard, destructive way that humans did, but with the grace and finesse and total amorality of mad gods.
When we finally made proper contact with them, the first thing they dictated to us was a map. These are the safe places, they told us. So long as you stay within these boundaries, the only perils you need concern yourselves with are equipment failures. We were happy to comply, as it turns out; the boundaries they laid out comprised most stars and the fastest routes between them. Only the great outer dark was barred to us. We asked, of course, what dangers lay out there, but the Strangers were cagey; eventually, we just settled, glad to have come to a peaceful arrangement.
But, inevitably, we took forays into the forbidden territories – not with ships, but with surveillance equipment. And we discovered that, parliament of roaches that we were, we were being tolerated, not embraced as equals. We were allowed the run of the low places, to cling to the shadows of planets and stars – but we were not the masters of the house by any stretch of the imagination. | "I wonder what it's like in there," Kevin said as I flicked my cigarette down in the ravine below. My neck was sore from staring at the ship, and I knew I'd feel it in the morning.
"I bet they know." I motioned to the watchtowers which had recently been erected below the magnificent vessel in the sky.
"They just don't tell us," I continued, "because if it's something fucked up, they wouldn't want people to panic." The light from the setting sun gleamed brilliantly off the vessel. The light show would soon begin.
Kevin opened his mouth, but then hesitated mid thought. I took this opportunity to grab another smoke from the pack sitting between us. Whether he noticed or not, he didn't seem to mind.
"They don't know anything, man. If they did, we would too. Who knows, maybe it is just some sort of alien drone like they say, but I think there are aliens aboard."
"Well, it makes sense doesn't it? Why send a crew when you'r-" My words faltered as a beam of shone across the ledge we were sitting on. Kevin began to rub his hands together frantically as a smile grew across his face.
"OH BOY HERE WE GO"
Suddenly, the dark ravine was lit brighter than it had been earlier in the afternoon. Though I had already seen this a hundred times, each time was like the first. The setting sun had bathed the faceted vessel and it shone brilliantly in the light, giving off a glittering disco-ball like effect. Even the moon (which we were lucky enough to see tonight) was lit up with rectangular spots of light, which raced quickly across the surface. The rotation of the vessel was almost indiscernible to the eye, but the way the light patches soared across ground revealed the great object's dull momentum.
Just as suddenly as the reflections had began, they now began to draw further away as the sun began to doze beyond the horizon.
I yawned and stretched, clearing my throat and hawking a ball of cigarette phlegm into the ravine below. I watched it as is broke apart on it's way down.
"So," Kevin said in a suggestive way, "Pizza?"
"Nah, sorry man, I got work in the morning".
I didn't have work the next day, but as much as I enjoyed hanging out with Kevin, I just couldn't bear another couple hours of him talking about the UFO. It was all anyone had talked about since the three years since it had arrived, and my hometown had become the centre of the universe, as far as the rest of the world was concerned.
It's ridiculous, I thought to myself as I made way way through the packed streets towards my apartment. Some people are actually paying crazy amounts of money just for a place to stay in town. They really think this thing's actually going to open up, idiots. If there had been a time, it would've been when they first landed.
I took one last look as I reached my apartment door, elbowing those who were leaned against it, staring vacantly at the ship. Come to think of it, lots of people were staring at it tonight, more than usual. And the light show had been over for quite some time now. I tapped one of the onlookers on the shoulder, "Hey, what's the deal with the UFO? Why's everyone in such a fuss about it tonight?"
The stranger looked at me curiously, he had a wild look in his eye, and clearly wasn't from town. One of the UFO nutjobs who had shown up when this had all began.
He made deep, uncomfortable eye contact with me and said, "Don't you listen to the radio, guy? The UFO started rotating counter-clockwise today"
"Cool man, it's done all sorts of odd things, it's a UFO, right? Nothing that won't be there tomorrow, not worth getting a cold over." He smiled at me dismissively and nodded. When I got into my apartment I was bushed from the walk back from the ravine, so I didn't bother taking my shoes off, I just tossed by bag on the floor and then laid down in bed on my back, looking up through the skylight at the stars.
I had just shut my eyes when I heard a loud whooping noise, which slowly grew louder into a cheer. I sat up in bed and started fumbling with my shoelaces, as the muted noises from the crowd outside grew from cheers to screams.
"Oh shit," I said silently to myself. After three long years of hovering over the town like a silent sentinel, the UFO had begun to awaken... | 2016-08-22T23:30:46 | 2016-08-22T21:02:54 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] The Deep Woods are a fearsome place, filled with screams and lights and terrible magic. But in the depths of the forest lives an ancient dragon who constructs all the sounds and sights to keep people away, because he just wants to be left alone. | “Leave me,” Tamot, the Eldritch, snarled.
The dragon towered over the silhouette emerging from the forest clearing. A hunter, no doubt. This time, he would be ready for them.
The person paused. Tamot watched them with curiosity as the smoke from his nostrils twisted and coiled in the scant light, creating horrid shapes. For good measure he shivered, causing the thousands of scales across his body to grate each other in a blurry cacophony.
Yet, that didn’t deter the figure. They walked forward with ginger steps into the light, as if unfazed by the dragon’s every attempt to scare them off.
And that’s when Tamot could clearly see them.
It was a girl… A human girl no more than eight years of age. She almost resembled a ghost, a pale thing dressed in ratty clothes barely clinging to her thin frame. She peered up at Tamot, one eye hidden in a thick mess of curly hair.
“Are you the dragon people say live in the forest, sir?” she asked, a meek voice still strong with everlasting curiosity.
Tamot hadn’t heard a human’s voice in ages. Almost as long ago as when people still believed in dragons. And yet, here was this girl who not knew of him but weathered his attempts to scare her.
“What do you want?” Tamot asked. He punctuated the question with another puff of smoke.
The girl looked him up and down, as if uncertain of how to respond. She fidgeted a moment, looking down at her feet, and then miraculously found the courage to not run off.
“I need one of your scales please, Mr. Dragon, sir.”
At this, Tamot shot fire from his mouth. It was instinctual, as if he could still feel the blades piercing his flesh, carving him away at like a holiday ham. The flames narrowly missed the girl by a few inches, but the new smell of burnt hair wafted through the clearing.
The girl took a step back on quivering legs. She glanced behind her at the forest, as if considering making an emergency retreat.
*Good*, Tamot thought. *Leave and never come back*.
As if hearing his thoughts, she dug her heels in and remained in place.
“Please, sir,” the girl said. “I need a scale or my Pa said I couldn’t come back home. Said a girl like me can’t work like my brothers can so I need to make money some other way.”
Silence followed her words. They were genuine, by no doubt. Tamot could see the darkness in a man’s heart from a mile away. He had been a victim of greed, and he didn’t intend to fall for their traps again.
And yet, here was this girl. She did what many hadn’t in hundreds of years. And for what – to prove her worth? She didn’t deserve to be mistreated like that.
No one did.
“You cannot have one my scales,” Tamot finally said.
The girl looked down with a gloomy expression.
“But, you are free to stay here with me. There is no need to return to a place where you’re unwanted. Does that sound fair?”
First shock then unrelenting happiness ran across the girl’s face. She flashed the dragon a grin, a few gaps in her smile. An eager nod was her answer.
And for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Tamot began to believe again that not all humans are evil. | The Deep Woods weren't kind to visitors. The muddy, peaty soil underfoot sucked and dragged at travellers' feet. Horses disappeared in bogs. Roots twisted and turned, the trees groaning their displeasure at having a stranger in their midst. It was said they walked when the moon was high. Paths became goat trails, and puddles became paths.
Travellers and wanderers returned with white hair; eyes wide with fear, and the echoes of screams still echoing in their ears. The green, mossy canopy overhead muffled sounds. Even the birds were silent. An oppressive air hung on the forest, sure as a panther settling into a crouch before springing. The cries that rebounded from the thick, dense wood, and the burning smell of magic that kept people away.
No one had ever praised Maggie for her navigational skills, and it was no surprise that she found herself lost in the Deep Woods. The market town miles away, Bess the pig was starting to slow down, despite Maggie's best efforts to drive the beast forward. With mud on her boots, Maggie was hopelessly twisted around. Hunger rolled in her belly. Determined to keep going, Maggie spotted a familiar looking tree ahead and aimed for it, tapping Bess lightly with the switch.
"Come on, pig," Maggie said. "We've got to get you to town." Selling Bess would bring money. Money that meant the difference between a winter growing fat on oatcakes, salt fish and pumpkins, and a winter spent huddling together for warmth eating straw to fill bellies.
Light flashed beneath the canopy of the trees as Maggie hurried forward. Long tendrils hung from branches, covered in a winding, parasitic moss. They wavered slightly in a breeze Maggie couldn't seem to feel.
"We shouldn't be in here," she told the pig. Bess rolled her eyes. It should never have been Maggie who took Bess to market, but coincidences being what they were, she was here. Wandering off the path in search of a place to rest had been a bad idea. Continuing past the sign that read: *Death awaits all ye who enter here,* had been a worse one.
A scream filtered through the trees. Like chalk on a blackboard, it scratched at Maggie's teeth and she shuddered. At the corner of her vision, a fallen tree seemed to move. She turned round to it, and Bess seized the opportunity to drop down into a boggy, wet, mulch patch.
"Get up," Maggie said desperately. The tree's bark was unusual. Though brown, and covered with moss, it had a copper sheen to it if she looked hard enough. There were no roots protruding from the end; it only snaked into the darkness of the Deep Woods and disappeared.
"Get up Bessie," Maggie tried again. Bess categorically refused. Her trotters were tired.
The fallen tree moved, this time in a way that was completely un-tree-like. It slithered, dragging across the ground. Saplings and shrubs bent beneath its weight, and Maggie felt the tremble in the ground.
"Who goes there?" The voice that spoke was old as gravestones. It seemed to rip the sanctity of the forest in two. The moss quivered.
"It's me," Maggie said shyly. "Maggie. And my pig, Bess."
"What brings you to the Deep Woods?"
With horror, Maggie realised the tree-trunk was a tail. Thick as an old oak, it curled around her like a careful embrace. From the boughs above her emerged a head, large as a house. It ducked to look her, held her in its gaze with one, golden eye. Yellow as honey, it drew Maggie in until she felt herself go weak at the knees.
"Mostly a mistake," she said. "I got lost. I need to get to Market town, so I can sell Bess."
The golden eye blinked. A path appeared beneath Maggie's feet, the forest parting like a flock of birds to show the market town glowing beneath the distant sunset.
"There's your way out," the voice said again. "And if anyone asks, tell them I terrified you."
"You did terrify me," Maggie said indignantly. Bess had fainted into the mud.
"I am not terrifying," the beast ducked back into the boughs, fading into the brown of the trees once more. "Not compared to what I am hiding from."
| 2016-09-16T06:20:13 | 2016-09-16T06:09:59 | 92 | 11 |
[WP] Once a name has been used it becomes unavailable until the person using it passes away. With over 7 billion people on earth people are starting to get... creative. | "It was 9:48 AM, I was awoken by a phone call. I lazily limped to the phone, then picked it up.
"Hello, LAXVER, GOD OF THE GALAXY 832?"
It was 3JEKELASLU, a good friend of mine...But why would he be calling me at this time?
'Pretty good, 3JEKELASLU, you?" I answered.
"Pretty bad, that bitch TASTYBITCH8AA left me...Can I vent to you?"
"Sure, how'd it happen?"
He cleared his throat, "Well, I was getting suspicious of TASTYBITCH8AA, because she kept on leaving in the middle of the night to go "shopping," You know?"
"Yeah, sounds suspicious."
"Well, I followed her, and guess who I see?"
"Who?"
"She was walking with her ex, AAAaaaAAAXllOIiu!"
"*NO!*"
"Yeah, so I confronted her, and then out of nowhere, AAAaaaAAAXllOIiu pulls out a knife, and threatens me. So , I told her we're through, and ran away."
"Did you call the cops on that douche?"
"No, but I'm going to, I jus-" There was a loud crash in the background. "OH GOD MY EYES!" 3JEKELASLU yelled.
"OH NO! 3JEKELASLU, ARE YOU OKAY?!?!"
"LAXVER...REMEMBER ME....!"
Then I heard the the sound of my friend dying, slowly."
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"Oh," she said, "That's...A really long name."
"Yeah, I get that a lot." I replied, "My name is written as a story, my parents wanted it to be original..."
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Come to /r/PurpleOtterTales for more of my stories!
Edit: Fixed 3JEKELASLU's name
| Back in the year 2025, a new law was enacted worldwide. The law was created in an effort to reduce the occurrence of identity theft; only one person was allowed to have a certain first name at any one time. People who were born before the law were given new identities. The new name usually consisted of their original first name with a string of numbers. My parents are Luke0025489 and Stephanie24570031.
At the birth of a child, parents are required to type in the child's proposed name into the name database. After they hit the enter key, they sit and pray that their chosen name has not already been registered. Parents had different strategies for naming their children. Some would choose a name, and add a string of numbers. Sometimes the numbers had a meaning. Since it was now impossible to name your child after someone, the next form of flattery was to use the person's birthdate in the child's name.
There were some creative strategies, and then there were some that were born out of frustration. One of my friends has the name chr1570ph3r, while another is ThisNameHasNeverBeenUsed.
My parents, though, they just entered random letters into the keyboard. The first day of school every year was horrible. Every teacher would just butcher my name, and I would have to explain how to pronounce it. I was embarrassed. There is so much responsibility in naming a person, and my parents blew it.
I always thought that, until I made it to high school. It was the first day of basic computer programming class. The teacher was sitting at his desk, typing something up on his computer. He saw me through the corner of his eye as I came through the door. "You here for the computer class? You're early. Write your name on this piece of paper to get your participation, then take a seat where ever you want."
After writing my name, I went and took a seat. A few minutes later, the teacher stopped typing and said my name perfectly. "Is this really your name! Seriously, you are so freaking lucky. Your parents have some great taste."
I looked at him confused. "How do you know how to pronounce my name? It's just a random string of characters."
He just looked at me, "Just a string of letters? Have your parents never told you about your name? Have you never googled it? Aren't you curious at all where it came from?"
"It's simple where it came from, my parents were lazy and just hit random buttons into the name registration."
"Listen, do yourself a favor, go google *'Everybody to the limit'*, it will all make sense after that."
"How the hell am I going to learn about my name, Fhqwhgads, from that?"
"Just trust me on this one."
---------------------------------------------
For more stories, you can check my new subreddit. r/vintnerwrites
| 2016-10-23T10:38:42 | 2016-10-23T10:21:58 | 986 | 136 |
[WP] you are an immortal and have lived a very long life. Everytime you die your body regenerates as you come back to life. Unfortunately, a serial killer finds out and sees you as the perfect victim to kill again and again. So he captures you. But he didn't expect you would play tricks on his mind | Months of imprisonment and it still hurt like hell. Every fingerprick, every cut, every dismemberment made my body cry out in pain. My nerves would regenerate with the rest of my body. There were no calluses or scars, there never were, only fresh skin.
He was punctual. Every day he'd drag me from the cell and kill me in one of dozens of ways. They weren't very creative anymore, even the times he chose to use torture. Some days were over in minutes, others he would go on for hours. But it always hurt. And he always threw me back into the cell.
And i always healed.
My limbs reattached and my bones regrew. My muscle and sinew reknitted itself. I would look down at my body and see it happen. 12 hours after my death, an entirely destroyed body and mind would be blinked away in minutes. Then i would open my eyes for another day.
Every day I'd wake up and see a "hint" on the table. A tool or something that would tell me how i would die that day. It was his way of keeping himself from boredom i suppose, but for me it was a small puzzle to pass the time. The most memorable being the time he laid a few metallic objects out. When the time came he assembled them into a gun and put a series of bullets into my chest.
At some point suicide became my religion. A promised paradise that i held onto. The concept of choice. How beautiful. But there was no way to kill myself. I had tried attacking him, but he would overpower me so easily.
I opened my eyes, the cell floor cold against my side. I glanced at the table: *A knife*. No puzzle, just a statement. If i was lucky I'd be stabbed once or twice and that would be the end of it. Most likely I'd be cut up until i bled to death, then i would watch the damage be undone from my out of body experience.
Bored, i looked around the floor and my eyes rested on something. A few shell casings from before. Like lightning an idea struck me. I quickly began thinking of a plan, both excited and hopelessly scared as i now had a chance and something to lose.
With a determination born from desperation i grabbed the shell casings and swallowed them whole...and then i started to choke. I couldnt breathe or swallow. I could get air. And no matter how hard my body's survival instinct fought to keep me alive, it couldnt stop this. For once in months of the cycle, i died before he killed me. And that was only the first part.
I watched myself from above as he came in 11 hours later, only to find my dead body. He thought i was sleeping at first and dragged me out, but i did nothing, my body limp. He grabbed the knife and drew a line down my side, the blood leaking out. I could see him grow more worried as he hit me harder and i had no reaction. He checked my body for signs of injury but there were none. He must've felt how cold i was. Then he checked my breathing. I saw dread spread across his face as he tried for an hour before he realized i wasnt coming back.
For the first time ever, i saw him start to cry. He set the knife down and leaned over me, his tears pouring down onto me. But i felt no pity. At that point it had been 12 hours and i started to reenter my body. This was it. The cut along my side vanished, but he was too emotional to tell. The shell casings slipped from my mouth to the floor with a *clink*.
He looked up but it was too late. In a flash i grabbed the knife and plunged it as deep into his chest as i could. He grew limp and that was it. I was free. I walked up the stairs and opened the door and never looked back | Blurred lines slowly turned into steel bars. I'm locked up. And very clearly not in the bathroom of the mall, the last place I remember being. "How the hell-" I try get up, but I immediately stop, then proceed slowly. Damn, the back of my head hurts. The door opens. "I see you're awake, finally." ugh. Not this again.
"Hi, you're here to murder me? Cool. Very creative. You're person #46895 to do so. My next death will be #100K-and-something. Please don't drown me, that is so boring." I yawn and take a closer look at the person who entered the room. A tall, thin man, with scars on his face. Ugh, could it get *any* more boring? "So you can either kill me and find out or I can just tell you: I regenerate as a baby. Good luck cleaning my diapers." The man snarls. "I won't clean your diaper. I will just kill you again. And again, and again. Until either of us die permanently." "Great. Can you please fill in this form for me? It's for my administration." I grab a folded piece of paper from my pocket, unfold it and hand it to him. "Reasons of killing, number of times you plan on killing me, name, age and preferred gender, current political preference, race, yadda yadda yadda." I drop the note on the ground. "I mean, if you kill me you can at least do this, for a woman's last wish?"
~~
A table. He tied me to a table. Come on. Where is the creativity? At least 90% of the people who killed me tied me to a table. That is how many people? 4689.5 times 9... A lot. A lot of people. I sigh.
"I see you're awake." "Dude, is that all you can say? You're not really creative, are you. Knocked me on the head, locked me up, spiked my food, tied me to the table..." I can't see my soon-to-be killer from here, but I know what his expression looks like. "**I AM NOT** like the others. I will kill you in ways you have never even *imagined*!" oh, come on. "Really? You're going to slice me in half? You're going to make a tiny cut with a dirty knife, giving me a wound that will slowly kill me whilst also hurting me a lot? You're going to rape me over and over and over again? Or are you planning on removing my skin? Tie me up my my arms and legs and tear me in 4? Make me bleed to death? Leave me here to starve? Or overfeed me? Bury me alive? Nah, you seem more like the slow-and-painful kind of guy. How about slowly carve away a piece of each of my limbs, till I am nothing but a body and a head?Say it and it has been done." suddenly, his face is really close to mine. "I WILL KILL YOU, WHATEVER YOU SAY!" "Wow man, you don't need to be so hot-headed."
~~
Excruciating pain fogs almost my entire mind. How long has it been? A week? A month? A year? I have lost all feeling of time. Which, sadly enough, wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. A whisper from outside. A proud voice, sounding like it wants to prove a point. "See. Ways you could *never* imagine." "It-" I breathe, with all my remaining strength. "has" everything hurts, so so much "beendonebefore" my last breath, the familiar warmth of death greets me.
~~
"WHE-WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" A piercing scream cuts though the room. It gets louder when one finger is cut off. Even louder when a toe follows. "SHUT UP!" "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH" Another toe. Another finger. "Be QUIET YOU STUPID BABY!" A little later, a little head rolls over the ground.
~~
"whe-ble-MEEEEEEEHHEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEEE!!!" another piercing scream. A smash. Silence.
Another scream. Another silence. Scream, silence, scream, silence. A seemingly endless circle. A baby reappears every time the old one dies. All remembering the lives of the previous ones.
~~
*ding dong* Sophia opens the door. "hello?" she looks around, but there is no one. "brbt? Flllllll. Eh-eh-WHEEEEEEEEEEEEE" Sophia looks down at the box in front of her door. "PATRICK! COME HERE!" She calls her husband. "A baby!"
(not 100% satisfied but it'll do.) | 2016-10-29T08:36:06 | 2016-10-29T08:31:22 | 507 | 57 |
[WP] In the canine world, humans are celestial beings who live for more than 500 years at a time. The caretaker of you and the past seven generations of your family will die soon. | The Cat Guardian is back, the smell of heavy sand and fur trailing behind her feet. She is sitting beside the Mistress, touching her hand, whispering something. I can understand things like *food* and *walk.* I cannot understand the heavy shove of these words, the wet ocean smell on her skin.
We went to the beach once, Mistress and the Cat Guardian. We stood beside the waves and judged the horizon. Mistress threw sticks into the surf and the Cat Guardian shied away from my wet paws.
Cat Guardian has two little demons that follow her. When we visit her, on long mornings, the cats slink through the rooms and tell me stories. They tell me about the way mice taste, how I am a stunted wolf, how they are tigers still in their tiny souls.
But today the demons are not with Cat Guardian. There is only her Bag of Secrets, a heavy heart, and a drawn look.
Cat Guardian brings me into the Room, where I have slept my whole life. There on the white bed, with the flowers and old stuffed animals I cannot chew. There Cat Guardian places me beside Mistress and lets her touch my throat, my nose, my ears.
I understand her words, for they are slow and familiar. "Be good."
Then Cat Guardian is kneeling beside Mistress. She is touching her face, her hands, her hair. She is saying things too quickly for me to understand. She is weeping openly, her hands rattling. Cat Guardian is younger, within her first cycle of celestial ability. She will live four hundred more years.
But not Mistress. I know then what Cat Guardian is saying. She is picking up the leash, she is whispering "walkies." She is looking away from Mistress.
"Be good, Blossom," Mistress says. "I love you."
Then Mistress turns away, to look at the windows. I am passed to another Being and taken from the white rooms, the white bed, the wonderful smell of flowers and cheese. I am taken into a car that smells like sand, to a world with demon tigers.
And no Mistress.
I do not see her again until she is stone growing from the ground.
It is their way.
| Her hand trembles as it strokes my head.
I can feel the blood flowing weakly through her skin, and I look up at her with concern, my eyes wide. She says something strange, I can never understand her, but her smile lights up my world.
I let out a little bark of excitement and wag my tail. She loves it when I wag my tail. I get the reaction I wanted, and her smile widens, and she begins to stroke me even more.
After an eternity she stops. I howl my disappointment but she doesn't continue. She tries to get on her two feet, that's how they normally walk, but rises and then sits back down. Perhaps she decided to play after all?
My tail begins to wag and excitement fills me once more. But when I look at her I find though that she's not smiling. Instead there's a grimace on her face, she's in pain.
Worry shoots through me, and I jump on to her chair, and begin to lick her. Usually this gets a laugh out of her, but she can only manage a weak smile.
*It's okay,* I tell myself. She's been sick before. Like that one time she was in bed for a one sunrise, and when she was in that scary place with the white walls and beds for 3 sunrises. She always came back, she's always okay.
I whine a little, mostly to reassure myself, but I just can't shake the feeling that there's something wrong, something wrong with *her.*
Suddenly I feel the muscles under her skin contract. Oh no. I don't know exactly how, but I knew something was wrong. Something even licking couldn't help. She started breathing in short gasps. I had to get help, find someone. I began to run around her very large kennel, barking as loud as I could. The doors were locked so I couldn't go outside. But someone had to hear me...someone had to help.
After several minutes of this, no one arrived, and then I heard it. Heard her.
She was calling my name.
Softly yes, but my hearing is sharp. I heard her. I ran to her, and jumped on her soft chair and licked her. There was some bad tasting water near her nose and eyes. She was weak, very weak, her breaths were getting shallower and shallower. She said something again, but her words didn't really matter. I could tell by the smile and her sad looking eyes what was about to happen.
Even though everything I knew told me it couldn't. Humans were supposed to live for centuries, so why now? Why me? She had looked after me and my dad and his dad and his mom and on and on. Why did I have to see her die, and why couldn't I do anything?
But despite the despair I felt I stayed strong for her. I pressed up to her and licked her as her breaths got shallower and shallower, as her hand stroking my head got weaker and weaker.
She had taken care of my family for seven generations, the least I could do was stay with her in her last few minutes.
***
(Minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out my new subreddit [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| 2016-11-21T16:39:44 | 2016-11-21T15:57:48 | 839 | 331 |
[WP] In the canine world, humans are celestial beings who live for more than 500 years at a time. The caretaker of you and the past seven generations of your family will die soon. | *Because fuck ya'll and your depressing stories. Let's make this a little more happy, eh? Or at least as happy as possible following the prompt.*
I never knew master's wife. Father said that she was kind and generous and fed him scraps from the table when master wasn't looking. Master did the same, too, of course. That's what humans did.
Master was a god, father told me when I was younger. He cared for us, he protected us, he taught us and he played with us. In return we offered our service, paltry as it was. Always faithful to our master. How could we not be? Those were long years ago, now. Father had since passed, and I had children of my own. The master's children kept them, they visited often in their grand chariots. It was good days when they came to visit.
I was old now. My time would be up soon, I knew it. I didn't mind. I had fathered many children, gone on many walks, sniffed many butts. I would rest soon. Which was good, because I was tired. Sometimes I forgot I was tired, usually when I was with master, and I would play like I was a puppy again. Then I would be very tired.
I thought about my life as I lay on my back, comfortable. I heard the door open, the familiar footsteps of master. I waited for a moment. "Dag nabbit Tex I told you don't get on the couch!" He muttered, tossing his hat onto the rack. "Well, if you're not getting off at least make some room."
Father said that humans lived eons, that master had been his master, and his father's before him, and his father's before him, more generations than father could remember. I was glad, master was a good master, he was kind. He sat beside me, I put my head on his lap and looked up at him. In return he scratched me behind my ears. I felt my eyes close. Certainly master was magic, nothing else felt like that. Ohh....
"Come on, Tex. We've gotta go to the store. Wanna ride in the car?"
I scrambled to my feet, barking. Yes! A ride in the chariot! What a treat. Master secured my leash to my collar, struggling with it a little. We got in the chariot and it made a noise like a lion's roar. I barked in response, I would teach it to threaten master. Stupid Chariot.
As master drove he kept one hand on the back of my head. He was nice, I panted happily, letting the world pass me by, until he stopped scratching me. I was puzzled. Master lifted his hand to his chest, the other on the reigns of the chariot. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Master winced in pain, I barked an alarm.
I looked for something, anything to help, but the car was moving too fast and we weren't even on the road anymore, there was a tree ahead and it was big and heavy and I was scared and I kept barking.
Then it was over. How had we gotten here? It was nice, a green field, trees, balls and ropes and rawhide bones and the couch was here too! Wow, what was this place? It's awesome!
There were other dogs, too. Dogs I knew. Friends! I ran over, barking my excitement. It was father! But he was so young! Barely more than a pup. Mother too! And grandfather, who I had smelled once before I opened my eyes. I was so happy, my tail wagged and wagged, and I barked and barked.
There was a sudden stillness. I looked. Master was here, but it wasn't master. He was young, as young as his children, but he was the same master I knew. He smiled at me, and at all of us, and we ran to him, bowled him over in our eagerness and he just laughed and laughed, hugging us to him. "Tex! Ralph! Wolfie, Scott, Amy! Oh, it's good to see you all again!" He shouted, we barked back.
Master stood, brushing himself off. His eyes were far away, I followed his gaze. It was a woman. Father ran to her, I followed, and master came too. She spoke, a kind voice, "we've been waiting."
He laughed and she laughed and I barked and I ran and played with master and his wife and father. We played all day, and for days and days and days, like I did when I was a puppy. But now I wasn't tired, and nothing hurt, and master was happy. I don't know how we got to this wonderful place, but I knew where I was.
Home. | A grey Charge approached me from across the street & lowered his ears in deference before exchanging the traditional sniff greeting.
"The preparations for The Howl are complete, as you requested," he grumbled, avoiding my eyes.
"Thank you," I panted. While I wagged my golden tail in appreciation, my heart was heavy. All the arrangements were finished, & the Long Walk could begin.
I trotted back inside the Den to the door & solemnly lifted a worn leather leash in my mouth. It tasted of tall grass, the forest outside our Den, & faded memories of my puppyhood. My ears & tail drooped involuntarily before I composed myself & lifted my head.
Walking deeper into the Den my family & had spent the last seven generations in, I did my best to ignore the scent of sterile tiles & cleaning products. The inclusion of the smells had been gradual enough that the rest of my Pack hadn't noticed them until they became almost unbearable, but I'd known from the first whiff exactly what they'd meant for us. It had been a struggle to pretend nothing was wrong as I watched our Guardian's skin turn as thin as newspaper, & Her eyes cloud. Despite the knowledge of that Her time was coming, She never once flagged in Her duties, ensuring our Den was clean & that we were well fed & groomed.
My tail threatened to droop, & the antiseptic smell threatened to overwhelm- but I pressed on, & shortly reached my Guardian's door.
I slipped through to see Her lying on Her bed. Her chest rose & fell in slow, shallow breaths that made me ache. I placed my head on the bed next to Her & gently washed Her face. Her eyes opened, & as She stared upward at the ceiling above Her, I saw the sudden flash of confusion that had become more & more common in the past moons. As She turned towards me, though, recognition dawned, & She bared her teeth in happiness.
Reaching up to pet my head, She noticed the leash in my mouth, & Her face immediately fell. Her cloudy eyes looked like they would spill over for a moment, but after a few breaths, She gathered Herself & rose with a small sigh. Though She did Her best to conceal it, I could tell She was in pain. I let out a soft whine, & She stopped for a moment to stroke me. I closed my eyes & listened to Her ragged heart through Her hands.
It was time.
She clipped my leash on & we stepped outside. Up & down the block, Charges & their Guardians were lined up outside their Dens. We moved into the center of the street, & the procession began. As we passed each Den, the Guardians & Charges bowed, then fell in behind us at a respectful distance. My Guardian pulled Herself to Her full height & moved like She once did when I was still a pup, & Her warmth was as familiar & comforting as my own Dams'. Her fur tumbled around Her in the wind like a living thing, spreading the now faded scent of flowers She was known for, & we continued forward.
We reached the building in what felt like no time at all. The Long Walk was meant to allow the Charge & Guardian to spend enough time together to speak of the things most important to them, but we had said nothing. There was no need. Her touch & movements had conveyed all they needed to; Pride in Her work, joy at being recognized for it, & deep sorrow for leaving before more could be completed.
An Acolyte exited the building. He was lean, long, & younger than any potential Guardian I'd seen before. He bowed deeply before my Guardian, then knelt on the ground before me, stretching out his hands. I went to him, & made my examination.
Nervous, but loyal. Physically weak, but with deep convictions. Inexperienced, but exuberant. He would make a good Guardian for my Pack.
I placed my paw in his & licked his face. Our contract complete, I stepped back to my former Guardian's side, & she handed my leash to Him, now simply an old woman ready to move on.
She turned & looked at us, pushing her fur out of her eyes. Slowly, she reached a shaking hand out to me one last time. I wagged my tail, but stayed beside my new Guardian. I wanted to run to her & leap into her arms, to follow her into the building wherever it might lead, but there were consequences for such actions. She bared her teeth once more, then came forward & stroked my head. Even as her skin met my fur, I could hear her heart flagging, & my own nearly broke.
"Good boy," she murmured. "Such a good, good boy."
Then she turned & entered the building, leaving a faint trail of flower scent behind as the only sign she'd even been here.
The Howl started behind me, lamenting the passing of a Guardian, & the completion of a contract for a new one. Each Charge & Guardian slowly dropped out & returned to their Dens one by one until my Guardian & I were the only ones left in the street.
His hand on my leash was firm, & he smelled of crisp winter air & hope. I pressed my side into His leg, felt His heart beating strong & sure, & slowly we turned to move towards my Pack's ancient home as the building's doors' shut behind us.
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Interest has been expressed, so I made a [Wordpress](https://rhiowrose.wordpress.com/) featuring some stuff I've written. | 2016-11-21T19:15:40 | 2016-11-21T18:42:25 | 264 | 49 |
[WP] "They mass-slaughter this organism called "flowers" and give the bound mass of corpses to their desired mate as a courting ritual, possibly as proof of ability. Truly fascinating."
Replace with other weird behaviors as desired
Edit: Mod's Choice and #1 in Hot in 5 hours? woohoo! | Moreover, the “flowers” are wrapped in sheets produced from the ground, reconstituted, and subsequently desiccated flesh of their cousins, “trees.”
It is usually the male who presents this gift to the female, and the female must first react with a loud cry, to express horror at the evidence of slaughter. This is to demonstrate that she is not bloodthirsty, and will not eat their young.
If the female is receptive to the male’s advances, she will then accept the corpses, and display the bodies until they shrivel and mummify, at which point they are no longer attractive to her, and will be removed. She will keep these corpses as long as possible, for the aroma of their decaying tissues is pleasing to her, and, indeed, this species has been known to mate in the torn limbs of “flowers,” known as “petals,” in the chamber that they retire to, following their bonding ceremony, called a “honeymoon suite.”
If she is not receptive to the male’s advances, she will still accept them. However, rather than keep them to the point of mummification, she will bring the fresh corpses with her to her “office,” where she competes with other members of her species to see who can remain for the longest period of time in front of a “monitor.” A “monitor” in the “office” is a light emitting device that causes pain, and therefore functions as a litmus test for which individuals have the greatest toughness, and fitness for survival. The goal is to attain such great lengths of exposure in this setting that they permanently destroy their capacity to feel, and thereby transcend the limits of pain.
In any case, the female will display the corpses in the “office” to demonstrate to others that she is so desired that she can afford to throw away the corpses pre-maturely, without striving to keep their aroma. This is a part of something called “office politics,” which we will discuss in the next chapter. | “As you can see, the pre-telekentically evolved human is about to perform a mating ritual practiced by the males in its lineage for several generations now.” Came the soothing voice of the narrator of the critically acclaimed nature documentary, ‘Pre-evolved Humans and their Societal Functions’. The work could only be described as a masterpiece.
On the holoscreen, the watchers saw a video reenactment of a young, human male picking flowers. The audience watched in bated silence as the man, wearing an odd assortment of clothing that blended into a semblance of an ensemble, plucked several flowers from the earth outside of his home.
“Observe as the young male kills the innocent wildlife around him; this wildlife, which serves many important purposes to the natural order, will now be removed through the selfish actions of the human male.” The announcer’s voice stated.
The audience watched the human male savagely cut off roses and tulips from their roots dug deep underground; roots which had spent so much time and energy gathering sustenance for the beautiful flower to grow and bloom.
“While some skeptics may argue that this was a necessary part of the human mating ritual, it has been noted that flowers were not necessary to win a human female. In fact, many times the act of gathering flowers did not even lead to the act of reproduction. It is in this way that the action of flower picking is selfish. It is performed on a petty whim, and removes the flowers much needed pollen from the bumble bees who so desperately rely on flower’s pollen and nectar for the creation of honey.”
The announcer takes a pause. On screen the human male can be seen presenting the hastily gathered flowers to a potential mate. The human female looks in disgust at the male’s weak attempts at courtship, and showcases her disgust by removing him from her social media circles, and talking about his failed attempts to her friends Betty and Susan.
“Yes, it appears that the human male has failed in his courtship. In an act of utter arrogance, we know see the human disposing of the flowers into an artificial garbage can, rather than returning the precious organic material to the earth, where it rightly belongs.”
The audience could hardly believe their eyes. There are shakes of the head and mutterings as they watch the wasteful action. These flowers, which were once destined to feed a colony of bees, their organic matter which was to return to the soil and enrich the ground, were now rotting away in a waste receptacle. Such wasteful actions were sinful to a society who had learned to reuse and coexist with their environ.
“Yes, It would seem that the pre-telekenetic human race was only interested in themselves. We see it time and time again, how the human mind focuses only on the superficial. Next, we will focus on the human politician in the early twenty first century, and their almost unanimous disbelief in climate change. Truly, an amazing feat of ignorance that current humans simply aren’t capable of experiencing with our advanced craniums.” The announcer said, transitioning to the next scene in the documentary.
------------------
Hope you liked it. I've got some other stuff over at r/ThadsMind | 2016-11-23T08:45:28 | 2016-11-23T08:00:48 | 1,418 | 48 |
[WP] Everyone has a stopwatch they are given at birth, it counts down to the exact moment you will meet your soulmate. You met your soulmate years ago and have been happily married since with three beautiful children. This morning you woke up and looked down, your watch has begun counting again. | "Hello, Marie." The words echoed in her memory fondly. She gazed blankly out of the tinted cab window. A light snow had began falling outside and the streets were buzzing with young couples.
It had been a day not too unlike this one, just 33 short years ago, that she had met the love of her life. Her watch had been ticking down for as long as she could remember. She had always daydreamed of some grand, romantic encounter with some dashing prince-like man swooping in and sweeping her off her feet. Who she got instead was no prince, but was a loving, humble, hardworking, *good* man.
They had been married almost immediately after their watches simultaneously stopped while standing abreast on that overcrowded subway. He had sheepishly asked her for her name then, and fumbled in his coat pocket for his ring, before blurting: "Hello, Marie. Would you be my wife?" Who could say no to their soulmate?
They had 3 beautiful children and lived out their days in a humble, yet wonderful house overlooking the city. She had gotten her happily ever after.
That is, until 1 month ago.
The cab slowed and came to a stop. Marie payed the fare before carefully stepping out onto the already-slick curb. She made her way inside her quiet apartment and closed the door gently behind her. After shrugging off her coat she sank into an inviting armchair and only lasted a moment before sucking in a gasp of air and sobbing.
Not many had come to the funeral. Whatever extended family they had was far too distant to be of any counsel, and family friends had been far and few between. They had been a quiet, personal family.
As she gasped, her rib cage ached dully where the seat belt had caught her in the horrible free fall down the hillside. She had only a few memories of that day, and since then she had lived in what felt like a fog. All that she held dear had been violently ripped away from her. Her children. Her love.
She couldn't bear to stay in that empty husk she had once called home and had packed just a few things and moved into a quiet neighborhood just a few miles from where her family was to be laid to rest. Though, what was she to do now that they were?
She sniffled and gazed over at the the small stack of cardboard boxes in the corner. Between the funeral preparations and grieving there had been little time to start settling into her new... Living space. Perhaps now was a better time than any.
As she cracked open the first box, her heart skipped a beat. Tick tick tick. But.. it was impossible. And yet, sure enough, the face of her worn watch, one that had been dormant for 33 years, was lit. 2 minutes, 6 seconds. Her hand shook as she picked up the keepsake. 1 minute, 59 seconds. She glanced around frantically, but of course, she was alone and wasn't expecting company. What did this mean?
She ran to the window. The snow was coming down more heavily now but there was no sign of anyone. 1 minute, 42 seconds. Marie looked back at her empty apartment once and then back to her watch before bolting out the door and back into the cold and dark night.
She wasn't sure why she was running. 1 minute, 21 seconds. Her feet were nearly swept out from underneath her as she rounded an icy corner.
She had already met her soulmate and spent the greater part of her life loving him and being loved in return. 1 minute, 2 seconds. Her face was already beginning to sting from the wind and snow.
How would it be possible to love someone else so much? Could she really start over? 48 seconds. Her fingers were beginning to numb in the cold.
30 seconds. Marie felt her pace lessen.
No. She didn't want to start over. The only man she would ever love was dead and part of her soul departed with him. Marie clenched the watch in her hand as the last few seconds ticked away. She closed her eyes and found herself yearning for a glimpse of her beloved when she opened them again. Just one last look.
A sickening screech accompanied by a sharp pain in her side catapulted her from her quiet before the numbness spread through her body. The last thing she saw was the cracked face of her watch, dimming on the pavement. All went dark.
Then there was a blinding light and a sudden warmth. "Hello, Marie."
EDIT: Wow, the reception to this was amazing! Thank you everyone for the compliments. I am feeling very humbled. | This morning, I heard an old familiar sound. I hoped that my husband didn't hear it, too, or perhaps I hoped that I would hear his watch ticking in harmony with mine. I listened closely--nothing. I got ready quickly, nervously, not wanting to give myself away. I grabbed my watch and left for work before his alarm had even gone off.
3 hours.
It's a slow day at work, now. I suspect my coworkers can make out the muddled ticks coming from my purse, but are smart enough not to cast glances in my direction. I can't imagine how I would fall in love, again. Love isn't just something that happens out of thin air. I knew Jerry for 3 years before my watch started ticking down until the moment our friendship became love. I'm a practical woman; I haven't ever experienced and I don't believe in love at first sight, but I'm feeling vulnerable, despite my usual self confidence.
I open up a browser, Reddit.com. I do what I always do when I come across a problem, I research it. Surely, I'm not the first person to ever experience this. Maybe it's a known defect of my watch. I type "soulmate watch begins" and then erase it. How the hell do I phrase something like this? I try again, "I'm in love with my husband but my watch is counting again." 84 results. Nice. I click on the most recent link, posted 1 hour ago, hoping I'll have enough in common with the author to actually learn something.
2 hours.
It reads:
Reddit, what do I do? I've been married to my wife for just shy of 5 years and my watch just started counting again out of nowhere. I have about two hours left until it happens. About my relationship... well, it's pretty good. We get along well most of the time. Our sex life is lacking, admittedly, because she's been really busy at work and usually doesn't have any energy by the time she gets home. All in all, I'd say we're pretty steady. I know I can't outrun fate but I'm finally in a good place in life and I don't want to fuck it all up by making things complicated. Help.
Damn. That's pretty spot on, aside from the sex life; Jerry's a rockstar and I'm front row at **all** of his concerts. I can't help but laugh to myself, thinking about who I am now and the woman I was when he first met me. I had just gotten out of a crappy relationship with a grade A narcissist. He had me convinced that the sun shone from his ass, which made me the dirt under his feet. He was a gorgeous and charming man, when he wasn't reminding me of how I wasn't living up to his expectations.
Well, I met Jerry while I was out jogging, to keep myself in better shape for my ex. He wasn't jogging, though. Instead he was standing in the middle of the sidewalk with a pair of binoculars, holding his arm out, gesturing for me to stop running. Being cautious, I almost ran around the damn fool, but for some reason I stopped. He whispered that there was a rare something-or-other in a nearby tree and that he was worried I would have startled it with my running.
1 hour.
He passed the binoculars to me. Tangled in with the branches and leaves was a small, pretty yellow bird. He started describing every detail of this creature, impassioned like some mad scientist on a mission to save a species from extinction, only they weren't endangered, he was just kind of... weird.
He must have seen the discomfort on my face, because he began explaining away his odd behavior. It turns out that he used to struggle with a really intense anxiety and that bird watching had become to him a sort of meditation. I had been trying to meditate around that time, as part of my "live healthier for ex" regiment, so I asked whether I might join him on one of his expeditions, some time. I guess the rest is history.
Holy hell, how long have I been daydreaming about Jerry? I grab my purse and head over to the bathroom, the coffee is making it's rounds through my body and I wouldn't mind freshening up a bit. If I have to meet this person, I may as well make a good impression.
THERE SHE BLOWS! I joke to myself, when I'm finally finished. Yeah my humor is a little gross, sure, but it's also human and shit happens. *bam dum tch!* I always did appreciate a good dad joke, but the truth is, feeling comfortable enough to make a poop joke is fairly new to me. I always felt so self conscious about myself when I was with my ex. I would literally shower after every "coffee drop" fearing his look of disapproval. Did I smell nice enough? Were my nails manicured properly? Did I miss a patch of frizzy hair, when I tried to smooth out my curls with a hairdryer, hoping for a more sleek and sexy, polished look? I lament for the girl who thought she needed to be perfect to win that man's love. I flush away the bad memories of my past and exit the stall.
I go to the sink to wash my hands and give myself one last glance before my chance encounter. God, I look different now. My hair is a curly lion's mane, and I'm honestly kind of digging it. He would have hated it. It was through Jerry's gentle encouragement that I started to wear my hair natural.
I check my watch to see how much time I have left--1 minute, and I'm the only one in the room.
| 2016-12-04T03:00:12 | 2016-12-04T01:18:48 | 595 | 92 |
[WP] A love letter is slipped under your door at your college. It would be cute, but it came from the closet door.
Pulled from the Instagram of @horrophiles. Saw it and wanted to see what would come up. | I was on the phone with my best friend Tony when the piece of paper came shooting out from under the closet door.
"Hey, Tony, I'm gonna have to call you back."
Tony and I met when I came to college, and instantly became friends. We talked to each other about everything, maybe sometimes too much. Maybe sometimes not enough.
I got up from my bed, walked over to the closet, and picked up the paper. It looked as though it had been in the closet forever, wrinkled from being wadded up too many times, like someone had wanted to pass it under the door long ago but kept hesitating.
I unfolded the paper, and began to read. It was a letter.
>I've been in here for quite awhile, watching you. I see you cry at night, stress over school, play your video games, and cry some more. It's okay to cry. At least, that's what I do.
I stopped and looked around the room. Who had been watching me? Was this some kind of joke? It put me on edge, but I continued reading.
>I know the way you feel inside. The feeling of despair, shame and guilt. You look at yourself in the mirror with disgust, and then put on a mask before going about your day. You tell everyone you're fine, but inside you're really not.
Man, whoever this is, they really know how to win someone over. They must be psychic, too. I continued.
>I can understand why. Being the way you are. It must be difficult. I know it was for me, and sometimes still is. The feeling of being trapped, alone, and scared.
I paused, and looked out my bedroom window. I had a perfect view of the campus quadrangle, with its field of grass, three-story oak trees and immaculate landscaping. The birds chirped as students scrambled to get to class. I always loved nature. It calmed me. I turned back to the letter.
>I'm here to tell you that it doesn't have to be that way. You don't have to hate yourself. You can love yourself, every bit of yourself. Just like I love you. I know it's hard, but it's not impossible. Hell, you've managed to keep a 3.8 GPA. Surely you can do this.
By this point, I had returned to my bed. I thought of Tony. We've done everything together in college, and it's been the best four years of my life. We're both set to graduate in the spring, and Lord only knows if we'll ever see each other after that. I certainly hope we do. I don't know what I'd do without my partner in crime. But still, who was this letter from?
>This letter is to tell you that I love you. That you're important, and that people care about you. Most importantly, that I care about you. You're stronger than what you've think. You're intelligent, smart, brave, daring, and compassionate. You have goals, aspirations, and a bright future ahead of you. Don't let this stop you. Don't let anything stop you. I love you, and it's time to tell the world.
>With Love,
>Me.
I got up from my bed, and walked over to the closet. I finally knew who was behind the door. I turned the handle slowly. The door creaked as the evening rays of the setting sun illuminated the dark abyss inside.
I stood up, and walked out of the closet. | "I don't think you know I exist. I've been at this college a long time, and I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you, never spoken to anyone as kind as you, never met anyone as smart as you. I would really, really like to get to know you better. I know that a letter is not the best way to do this, and you must be freaked out right now, but I'm just too nervous and anxious to talk to you in person. I'll come by your room at 7; if you'd like to meet up, please be home. If you're not, I'll understand.
-Hairy."
Sandra stared at the letter. She'd memorized it at this point. Whoever had left this had really been trying to impress her - it was handwritten, with what seemed like nervous, shaky fingers, on clearly expensive stationary with little red hearts across the top, and sealed up in an envelope with a nice little monogrammed "H" sticker sealing it. It was even sprayed with cologne.
Unfortunately, the cologne smelled like rotten socks, the H sticker had caught some violently purple fur beneath it, the shaky hand had also included what she suspected, from the slight lacerations in the paper, to be clawed fingers, and rather than being stuck under her dorm room door, it had been lovingly slid... under the closet's sliding panel.
The very first thing she'd done had been to strip the closet bare. Her clothes, coats, shoes, and storage bins now rested in a pile under the window. She'd spoken to the RA about keys, but nobody had checked out the spares for her room and her RA swore that nobody had been in here. Certainly, nobody with purple hair or smelling like moldy laundry. Sandra had no roommate, and few friends - certainly nobody who would play this kind of prank. She lived on the fourth floor, so she doubted someone had used the window. Nothing else in the room had been disturbed.
The only thing she'd found to make her pause, to keep her from going straight to campus police to complain of a break-in, was a tiny - infinitesimal - minuscule - patch of purple and yellow fur stuck to a loose nail in the back corner of the closet floor.
So she sat on her bed and stared at the letter.
Monsters in the closet? She didn't think she'd ever believed in them. She hadn't been what you'd call an overly imaginative child. Sandra preferred history to fantasy; science kits and digging toys to fairies and princesses. She'd take police procedurals over Disney movies. She'd always colored precisely within the lines and in realistic colors. Her Lego towers were architecturally sound. So logically, this was probably a cruel joke played on her by some frat. Perhaps the student in charge of checking the keys out was complicit. She really should complain, make a big noise, get the student support groups involved. Someone breaking into girl's dorm rooms was a big deal.
On the other hand...
She'd been single for almost four years now...
She's always told herself, after Jack dumped her, that she was too broken to deserve love. That she was boring and dull and had too many problems. That anyone that got to know her at all would be put off by her issues.
Well, anyone who lived in her closet for any length of time had to know her fairly well. They'd seen her attempts at knitting, the way she snored and farted in her sleep, seen how she watched the same episodes of law and order over and over. They'd heard her fights over the phone with her mother, knew she cut herself when her depression flared up, and experienced the nights when loneliness and anxiety left her crying until it was time to leave for her morning classes. If they'd seen and heard all that, and still called her kind, and smart, and beautiful...
The note was sweet, if you ignored the "watching you from your closet" creepiness, and Hairy had clearly made an effort. She understood anxiety and how hard it was to face rejection. She could hardly comprehend how that must factor in when you were covered in purple hair and smelled like feet, and - especially and - weren't human. How did you meet people in person if you're afraid of getting punched or shot just for saying hi? Maybe, in that situation, you could forgive a note, and a less than perfect invitation.
Sandra closed the closet door, and decided to stay home. | 2017-04-11T16:07:59 | 2017-04-11T15:13:09 | 305 | 129 |
[WP] You're Barack Obama. 4 months into your retirement, you awake to find a letter with no return address on your bedside table. It reads "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job." Signed simply, "JFK." | "Very funny, Michelle," Barack called into their new home, the letter in his hand. It has always been their tradition to out-prank each other when they move to a new place. JFK, alive? Barack chuckled as he folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. Michelle has got to come out with better pranks.
Barack closed the wooden door and walked into the hallway. Boxes of unopened stuff laid strewn across it. Eight years of presidency had bestowed him countless of possession.
"Michelle?" Barack called out again, suddenly noticing the silence in the house. Just a few moments ago, he still heard the voices of Sasha and Malia giggling from the living room, while their mother asked them about their dinner choices. Except for Barack's footsteps on the floor, the air hung still.
Something did not feel right.
"Michelle? Sasha? Malia?" Barack shouted this time, his voice mixed with a tinge of worry. This was not a prank that the girls usually play on him. His hand clutched the letter in his pocket.
"I am afraid that your wife and daughters are no longer in the house," a voice behind him suddenly said. Barack yelled as he swerved around. Standing between him and the door he just closed, stood a figure whom he has only seen on books and television.
"Martin Luther King," Barack whispered, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. He had seen his share of crazy things in his eight years of presidency, but coming face to face with dead figures was something he never expected.
Martin chuckled at Barack's response. "Yes, that is correct." He extended his hand to Barack. "And it's an honour to finally meet you, Mr President."
Barrak took Martin's hand and shook it. He straightened himself, assuming the straight posture he was well known for. Being in the presence of legends required the courtesy, though he still struggled to hide the surprise in his face. "The pleasure is mine, Dr King. Forgive me, but I must ask-"
"Your family is safe with us, Barack. And yes, the letter in your pocket is indeed from President Kennedy," Martin interjected.
"If I may, can you just walk me through what's going on here?" Barack gestured with his hands. He was feeling confused, as well as slightly taken aback. Nothing prepared him for this.
Martin sensed the unease that Barack felt. It was understandable. When Gandhi first appeared to him, he could not sleep for days. He placed a hand on Barack's shoulder. What he was about to say to Barack would be far worse than meeting dead people. "Barack, listen here, I am here to tell you that in a few weeks time, you'll be assassinated."
Barack flinched an eyebrow. "What?" Surely he was dreaming. The stress of the past eight years must have finally got to him.
The strength of Martin's hand on him, however, felt real. Martin gave Barack a sympathetic smile, just like how Gandhi had done so to him. "Yes, I am afraid so. This is just how things are supposed to work. Before you start your real job."
"Don't I get a say in this?" Barack questioned. He had been looking forward to some time off after his presidency. Another job was just out of the question. He could only lose so much hair.
Martin however, shook his head. "Barack, I am sorry, but it wouldn't be possible. My boss will not let it."
"And who is your boss, if I may ask?"
Martin Luther King smiled at the question, as if it was the question he had been waiting for Barack to ask since they first met. "His name is Jesus."
-------------
*Edited Barrack to Barack and Mr King to Dr King. Thanks for the pointer!*
/r/dori_tales | Obama slowly lowers the letter as a drop of sweat starts to slide down his forehead, his heart pounding.
"Michelle." He says. "I have to step out for a minute. I'll be right back, you can go back to sleep." She mumbled something in return, but it wasn't coherent enough to understand.
Obama walks outside with his phone and the letter, and begins to dial the number. Before he types the last digit, he shuts his phone off and grabs his head with both hands in stress. This call could mean anything, after all. Obama paces back and forth while alternating rubbing his sweaty hands together and wiping the sweat off his forehead, as he smokes a cigarette he lit to help with stress. When the cigarette burns out he tosses it to the ground, steps on it to extinguish the flame, and tells himself simply "you can do this Barack. You were the president of the United States, for gods sake. TWICE." With that, he picked up the phone.
"Hello Barack." A voice said, before Obama had even said anything. "We've been expecting your call."
"Who is this?" Obama sternly asked.
"As the letter said, this is JFK. We have a job for you. Meet us on the corner of East and Third at 0300 hours Tuesday of next week. Come alone, and tell no one what you're doing. Tell no one about this call. Tell no one about the letter. We will know if you talk. Do not talk."
"B-but wait..." Obama stuttered. "Next Tuesday is my wife's birthday..."
"We are aware of that, Barack. Sacrifices have to be made in order to succeed." Replied the strange voice. Whoever it is was, they were definitely using a voice changer. Obama started to think, and he couldn't even tell if he had been talking to a man or a woman.
Days pass. Obama stressed uncontrollably over this, worried about what might happen, and worried more about how his wife would feel if he for any reason missed her birthday. He had no choice, though. He had to go to that meeting, to discover what this was all about.
The time has come.
Obama slowly walks to the stop sign on the corner of East and Third, at 0300 hours, on the correct day. Everything was as he was told. He received another call.
"Barack." The voice said. "Do not move. Do not make a sound. Do not even lower the phone from your face." Before Obama could ask why, he noticed multiple bright dots shimmering on his body. Snipers, no doubt. Obama didn't dare move. For two whole hours he was forced to sit like this.
At the dawn of the third hour, the lasers disappeared. A black unmarked car drove up to where he was sitting. He heard a voice that told him to approach the vehicle, but to not get in.
Obama walked up to the window, and stuff waiting for what might happen next.
The window rolled down.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" laughed Biden. "You should have seen all the faces you made! Oh and how stressed you looked! You seemed like you were gonna have a heart attack! HAHAHAHAHA!"
"Joe?" Replied Obama, angrily. "I don't understand. Explain, now."
"Easy, easy." Said Biden. "It was just a prank bro! Just a little joke! You know. Leave a mystery letter, give out mysterious instructions, have you sit in an uncomfortable posture for THREE HOURS. IT WAS HILARIOUS!"
"I don't understand." Obama looked puzzled. "What about all the threats? Why drag me out here at this time and day, and on my wife's birthday no less?"
Biden continued to explain, still laughing. "Because it's FUNNY! You were so freaked out! I'm sure you're more afraid to go home now than before, because your wife will be waking up any moment now to an empty bed, which is the BEST PART! AHAHAHAHA!"
Obama wanted to hit Biden. "But what about JFK? Why the blocked caller IDs? Why would you do this?"
Biden continued to laugh. "JFK? JFK?! That was your only hint you bozo - Just F$:king Kidding! Because it was a joke! What, did you think this had something to do with the old president? It's dead, Jim. I mean Barack."
Obama was so outraged at this point. He could no longer think of anything to say, so he didn't. He turned around and walked away, fearing how his wife might act when she learns the truth. He hadn't spoken of it, but she had noticed him acting awfully weird the last week.
"Biden." Obama thought to himself. "I will have my revenge."
To be continued in Pranking Obama 2: Electric Boogaloo | 2022-12-29T14:39:14 | 2017-05-14T11:15:12 | 274 | 30 |
[WP] You're Barack Obama. 4 months into your retirement, you awake to find a letter with no return address on your bedside table. It reads "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job." Signed simply, "JFK." | "Very funny, Michelle," Barack called into their new home, the letter in his hand. It has always been their tradition to out-prank each other when they move to a new place. JFK, alive? Barack chuckled as he folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. Michelle has got to come out with better pranks.
Barack closed the wooden door and walked into the hallway. Boxes of unopened stuff laid strewn across it. Eight years of presidency had bestowed him countless of possession.
"Michelle?" Barack called out again, suddenly noticing the silence in the house. Just a few moments ago, he still heard the voices of Sasha and Malia giggling from the living room, while their mother asked them about their dinner choices. Except for Barack's footsteps on the floor, the air hung still.
Something did not feel right.
"Michelle? Sasha? Malia?" Barack shouted this time, his voice mixed with a tinge of worry. This was not a prank that the girls usually play on him. His hand clutched the letter in his pocket.
"I am afraid that your wife and daughters are no longer in the house," a voice behind him suddenly said. Barack yelled as he swerved around. Standing between him and the door he just closed, stood a figure whom he has only seen on books and television.
"Martin Luther King," Barack whispered, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. He had seen his share of crazy things in his eight years of presidency, but coming face to face with dead figures was something he never expected.
Martin chuckled at Barack's response. "Yes, that is correct." He extended his hand to Barack. "And it's an honour to finally meet you, Mr President."
Barrak took Martin's hand and shook it. He straightened himself, assuming the straight posture he was well known for. Being in the presence of legends required the courtesy, though he still struggled to hide the surprise in his face. "The pleasure is mine, Dr King. Forgive me, but I must ask-"
"Your family is safe with us, Barack. And yes, the letter in your pocket is indeed from President Kennedy," Martin interjected.
"If I may, can you just walk me through what's going on here?" Barack gestured with his hands. He was feeling confused, as well as slightly taken aback. Nothing prepared him for this.
Martin sensed the unease that Barack felt. It was understandable. When Gandhi first appeared to him, he could not sleep for days. He placed a hand on Barack's shoulder. What he was about to say to Barack would be far worse than meeting dead people. "Barack, listen here, I am here to tell you that in a few weeks time, you'll be assassinated."
Barack flinched an eyebrow. "What?" Surely he was dreaming. The stress of the past eight years must have finally got to him.
The strength of Martin's hand on him, however, felt real. Martin gave Barack a sympathetic smile, just like how Gandhi had done so to him. "Yes, I am afraid so. This is just how things are supposed to work. Before you start your real job."
"Don't I get a say in this?" Barack questioned. He had been looking forward to some time off after his presidency. Another job was just out of the question. He could only lose so much hair.
Martin however, shook his head. "Barack, I am sorry, but it wouldn't be possible. My boss will not let it."
"And who is your boss, if I may ask?"
Martin Luther King smiled at the question, as if it was the question he had been waiting for Barack to ask since they first met. "His name is Jesus."
-------------
*Edited Barrack to Barack and Mr King to Dr King. Thanks for the pointer!*
/r/dori_tales | Barack smiled when he saw it. This was the sort of sense of humour Sasha had when she was a kid. She wasn't a kid anymore, a fact he had come to find out the difficult way. He had been on the business end of an angsty rant from her earlier that afternoon.
Maybe this was the way she was going to make it up to him, by playing a prank. He strode towards the kitchen and shouted out;
"Sasha, I just got the strangest no..."
It was like the ice bucket challenge all over again; his entire system went freezing cold then burning hot. Standing in the middle of his kitchen was some sort of waxwork figure of JFK. It looked like a composite of every picture he had seen of Kennedy.
There were two things that stood out though. He was wearing a modern suit. It looked like Savile Row, and his eyes. His eyes were the most piercing green coming into yellow around the iris.
He bent double with his hands on his knees. This was a laugh he needed. This was one elaborate prank. He bounced across the floor to the figure, and immediately inspected his face. Incredible craftsmanship went into this. Instinctively he looked for the ipad to take a selfie, but he remembered he carried a phone now.
He whipped it out and took one with a cheesy grin. He reached out to touch the skin on his face and pulled it out. It was really elastic.
"Are you quite finished" snapped the figure sending Barrack stumbling backwards knocking a nespresso machine with his elbow. He held it together for a second and began laughing again.
"Holy shit it talks," Barrack said waving his hand in front of the figures face.
The figure slapped him straight across the face.
"Have you any god damn idea who I am young man," spat Kennedy in his New England draw.
Barrack tried to speak but nothing came out, but rather sat there with his mouth ajar.
"Oh for god's sake you're not idiot too are you?"
Obama tried again but only managed one word;
"Too?"
"Well no offence but your not exactly my first choice."
Obama shook his head. This couldn't be happening. He swung on his heels and headed for the hallway.
"Barry where are you going?"
"I'm sorry Mr. President..."
"Jack."
"I'm sorry...Jack...but I appear to be having a stroke, so I'm going to go have a lie down."
"Ok."
Obama left the kitchen in shock, ascended the stairs, and climbed into bed with his clothes still on, complete with shoes. He rolled over.
"Hi there." JFK hazel eyes met Barrack's.
"Am I dead?" Obama asked
"No."
"But you are right?"
"Yes and No."
"This sounds like there is going to be some long convoluted explanation for how the hell I am looking at you right now so can you just skip to that please." Barrack said sitting up. Kennedy followed.
"Sure." The two stared at each other for a moment.
"Now would be nice."
"Oh right sorry. Are you familiar with the Illuminati?"
"The tinfoil hat brigade were right! The illuminati are real!"
JFK exploded into laughter
"No I'm just fucking with you. You know anything about quantum mechanics and the many worlds theory?"
Barrack kept calm usually. He would have been briefed by an advisor about the topic before a conversation. Those were the days.
"No I don't."
"Ok well in brief there are many alternate parallel timelines to this one. In this one, I was killed in Dallas in 1963 right?"
Barrack nodded
"Well I come from a similar timeline, except before my assassination, which was in Maine by the way, I was rescued."
"By who?"
"Well do you know what the grand filter is?"
"Like on instagram?"
JFK stared at him sternly.
"No I don’t."
"Every civilisation eventually gets powerful enough to destroy itself. It's our job to make sure that civilisation gets through this filter in as many timelines as possible."
"Why?"
"I don’t know, it's above my pay grade."
"So you are like an intergalactic police force?"
"We call ourselves breachers, and we are more like a super secret group of spies. Also we don’t go into space. Before you get your hopes up."
"And if I say no?"
"Remember what happened me in Dallas in 63?"
Obama swallowed hard.
"Remember ask not what your species can do for you."
Barrack swung his legs to the floor.
"Ok." He said gravely.
"Cheer up man, we're gonna have tons of fun, and pick up loads of chicks." JFK said putting on a pair of Wayfarer sunglasses.
"Eh I'm married."
Kennedy laughed and looked at Barrack confused.
"So am I."
| 2022-12-29T14:39:14 | 2017-05-14T10:21:11 | 274 | 27 |
[WP]The smarter you are, the slower time moves for you. It's been 63 years and the doctor just handed you to your mom. | The thing about being smart? You don't really feel smart. You just feel tired.
The doctor hands you to your mother, who welcomes you with a kind face. It was.. cruel, that's the word, that you were in a way older than your own parent. From the moment your conscience was first realized in her womb, you've been absorbing information about the world.
She hugs you, whispers that she'll take care of you forever, that she'll love you forever.
Forever doesn't mean the same thing to the two of you.
She's so young. | I didn't really like that I took more than 60 times the average human to exit my mother's womb. But if waiting could give you success, it wouldn't just be me who would clamour for it. Hyper-intelligence made life Easy-mode, in a way.
For one, I would always do well in class, because of how slow it moved for me. I could ace all my tests, since I had more than 2 days to think about my questions (and because I was way too smart for my level, not to brag). Hyper-intelligence gave me heightened senses and with it an ability to neutralize threats to my life. But I've been living for around 700 years in human time, and using 5 minutes to take a glass of water annoyed me. As I went to complete the aforementioned task, someone seemed to be walking...at a normal speed. As if my slowing of time didn't affect him. He looked at my confused face, tipped his hat and said simply,"You're the only one that is smart enough to actually see me. What's your IQ?"
"2...2000," I stammered out, slightly frightened by the man.
"That's good enough," he said, dragging me along as my speed suddenly increased drastically whilst everyone else stayed at a slow pace.
"Where to?" I asked, before a portal opened in the middle of nowhere.
"Do you think I know?" he smirked, before hopping into the portal, me following close behind.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! | 2017-07-04T19:23:42 | 2017-07-04T15:47:10 | 127 | 29 |
[WP] You, an atheist, have died. All the gods that have ever been line up to offer you their version of heaven if only you believe in _them_. Turns out souls are currency and yours is up for grabs. | I took the time to read through each one of their books thoroughly. Most of them were over 400 pages, so it struck me as odd when I walked up to the last of the gods and saw a young girl with a 3-page pamphlet.
"You're just a kid," I pointed out to her, stupidly.
"That is my soul you're seeing. I am Fun."
"Fun? That's all?"
"All?" She giggled as if she knew something I didn't. "Just read this."
Page 1: Family. Family is glue. They are your best friends. Family means you are never alone. In my Heaven, you will get to find your perfect family. They understand you, they are always there for you.
Underneath the short paragraph, there was a childlike sketch of blue humanoid figures in a group hug with hearts floating above them.
I needed some crackers for all the cheese.
Page 2: Love. Love is life. You will never be without love in my Heaven. It will be your food.
Underneath the sentence, there was another drawing of a sunrise over a cornfield. A caption below it said, "This is how much the sun loves us."
How lame.
Page 3: Fun. Fun is eternity's secret. You never get tired of it. In my Heaven, you chase fun and then rest, and then chase again.
The illustration this time showed the same blue figures doing various activities - playing a guitar, kicking a soccer ball, playing with a cat.
I looked up at her again and noted the expectant look on her face.
"Why such a short book? It took me years just to read through the others and yours just doesn't even compare. I don't mean that in a good way. I need more data."
"You need more will," she said.
"My will is just fine. I know exactly what I want."
"Then what is it?"
"I want to understand how all of this came to be and then die."
"You'd like some supplemental reading material? I do have one other document. It's not required reading, just something nice."
"Nice?!" This kid was amusing the shit out of me.
"Here."
She handed me a list of "Sad Things to Say."
The list: Die. Kill. Murder. End. Death. Destroy. Fear. Rage.
It went on and on.
"So why do they call you Fun? Your Heaven sounds like fluff. They should call you Fluff."
She opened a portal in mid-air next to her and showed a group of people sitting next to a river, drinking beer and laughing next to a campfire.
"This is my favorite family so far," she smiled. "They love each other so much and never forget each other in times of need. You ought to hear them sing."
"You've left so much of this reality in your Heaven," I said with a slight bit of confusion. She didn't make a rainbow sky or anything like some of the other silly books I went through.
"While I was human, I realized that we were already in a perfect place. The problem was people not having fun. I talked to Creator and he gave me the chance to stand among the gods. He told me to keep my Heaven simple though, because the others are kind of assholes, even though they are very smart. Don't tell them that."
I laughed out loud at this child's profanity. She rolled her eyes and grinned.
"Well, what do you think?" she asked.
"I think there is something you're not telling me. I know you're after something by offering this to me."
"Currency?"
"Exactly."
"Time is what?" She asked.
"Money."
"And money is?" She asked.
"Currency."
"And what does currency mean?"
"In circulation," I replied immediately. Hmm.
She pointed back to the portal she had opened. "Your soul in this Heaven will create a more vibrant place for us all. Each new arrival only makes it shine brighter. You will become this Heaven and this Heaven will become you. You make it move like the current of the river. That is why they call me Fun!"
"Because ..." I was at a loss for words.
"Because it is. Do you want to stay with my family for a while and just see?"
"Wait a minute. Why are the other gods so hungry for my soul?"
"Trophies and competitions," she said with sad eyes.
"I'm going back to my family now, friend. You can come with me or you can reread your books."
She began stepping through the portal.
"Wait!!" I nearly screamed.
I felt the warmth coming through the portal. I needed to go with her.
She reached out her small hand to me and guided me through.
| Do you know what permeates the afterlife?
I mean, given my own personal inclinations, I would've said "nothing" -- you know, like those nights when you don't dream, you're just... gone. And you keep being gone until you no longer aren't; then the *waa-waa-waa* of the alarm and off you go, back neck-deep into the rat race. Until, as it were, you get off the kharmic bus and bite the big one and then, again, more nothing.
Hoo boy, was I wrong.
Turns out that what permeates the *immediate* afterlife is, for lack of a better term, a gaggle.
"Would you all kindly shut up, I can't hear myself think!"
The gods did not appear to notice. This is a defining feature of gods after all. Their voices washed over me, again and again, in cacophonous waves:
"And thou shalt enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many--"
"--the flesh of Sæhrímnir melts in your mouth, the mead is strong and the Valkyries, let me tell you about the--"
"--ride with the sun, it's quite a sight really, and dance in the Fields of Yalu--"
"--literally right on the edge of the ocean and you can use it up to ten weeks per year--"
"--absolute nothingness, the ultimate experience of satisfaction and--"
I sat with my head in my hands, bent like a post-limelight Quasimodo pondering for whom the bell tolls. Well, turned out it tolled for me alright, loud and clear, I just couldn't hear it. Nor did I hear the fire alarm that morning, but hey, at least I got to go out in my sleep. Didn't leave much behind in the way of relatives or friends. And at least my cats would have my carcass to feed on until someone came to take care of them.
"I just don't know!" I wailed. "This wasn't supposed to happen. Y'all aren't even supposed to exist!"
This, at least, at last, silenced them. Well, everyone except the guy with the brochure, the slightly sleazy smile and the straw hat; on the other hand, he'd already proceeded into the mass of gods surrounding me, his "--cheaper alternative than almost all hotels--" trailing off as he put his arm around an unsuspecting Celtic-looking fellow.
"Right", said one of the gods at the front, a fat and jovial man with a large beard, haphazardly wrapped in a toga, a harp tucked under his flabby arm. "And nevertheless, you have to choose one of us to believe in."
"*Why*?" I demanded. "It's not like any of you did anything for me when I was alive."
"Er...", said Fortuna.
"OK, so there may have been a few favors here and there--"
"Uh...", interjected Hotei.
"--but, Jesus Christ--"
"Yes?"
"No! Just, ugh, *none* of you woke me up to save me from the fire, right?"
"You had free will!" objected the abomination I'd learned was known simply as God: one human body, eight elderly male heads with long beards, sparse but long and wavy hair, and stern expressions.
"You could have *not* played video games all night", said Sheeva peevily. "Then maybe--"
"Fine", I conceded. "But none of you helped me out when my car broke down, just as I'd gotten laid off, and there was that one time--"
"These are all earthly things and not important in the grand scheme of things", said Afrodite, winking suggestively.
"Yeah, what she said", added Zeus, constructively.
"This is about your soul, mate", said a man so dark-skinned as to be almost black, save for the dribbling of blue paint around his mouth.
"You're going to be there *forever*", said Pan, shifting his cloven feet. "S'important. Which is why you should choose--"
And the gaggle resumed, one god after another trying to pawn off their particular version of afterlife, the noise drowning out all thought and sense of time. Maybe that was the joke; maybe this was all it was. Hell.
"--الجَنَّة في اللغة هي البُسْتان، ومنه الجَنّات، وتصغيرها جنينة، والعرب تسمّي النخيل جَنَّة، والجَنَّةُ الحَديقةُ ذات الشجر والنخل، وجمعها"
"--and you will be chanting the Ustavaiti Gathas with joy, basking in the--"
"--it also comes with an AC for those really hot summer days--"
I just couldn't take it anymore. I stood.
"YOU!" I roarded, pointing randomly into the crowd. Silence fell on the gathering, insidious like a fart at a funeral.
The gathered gods parted before my trembling digit like a particularly holy sea, revealing the target of my choice. It stood in an expanding circle of deities, shuddering briefly with excitement. I lowered my arm and sighed with reluctant acceptance. Whatever came next could not possibly be worse than this, right?
"I've made my choice", I said, glancing over at my chosen deity, who was now breaking into a smile. It came over to me, and put its arm around my shoulders. The other gods turned away grumpily, grumbling.
"Yousa and missa is goin to has some funny-funny!", said my god, as we faded from that plane of reality. | 2017-07-09T05:04:36 | 2017-07-09T04:29:57 | 58 | 36 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | It's the best deal in town. You can be the student you always wanted to be. However long it takes. You'll get there, to have the time of your life. When I wanted him. History doesn't repeat itself, but it rhymes. Sunny and 72 degrees. Except where prohibited by law. He grabbed her hand.
She stopped twisting the radio dial and stepped outside, into the sunshine. | She sat in the chair, shivering against the cold dense plastic and metal monstrosity. Eyes flickered back and forth, the chill in the room not the only reason for her to shake and tremble. Eyes gazed warily, fearfully at the metal tower beside her, unknown attachments hanging off with unknown purposes.
A man in white enters, looking at her as if she were nothing but a problem to fix, a subject to enhance. He asks her questions and she replies haltingly, unsure, confused. Continuing to talk the man holds a dark instrument in front of her eyes, waiting for answers while conducting unknown practices. The instrument emits light, bright and piercing and shines them directly into her eyes. She squirms at the intrusion, trying to look away before reprimanded.
She whimpers as he moves a heavy apparatus to her, instructing her to compliance. The questions continue and her panic grows. Her vision swims and she stammers out responses. The man doesn't seem pleased and repeats his questions.
Finally it ends yet the entire ordeal does not. Another machine, heavier on a base is slid over. Her neck cranes and the metal and plastic feel cold. More lights, blue and green as well as plain. All bright. All searing. Just when she thinks it will never end the machine is moved. The man speaks and she flees.
I sigh and rub my eyes. *Why do people treat an eye exam like torture? You think I'm pulling their teeth instead of helping them see.* | 2017-08-30T06:54:31 | 2017-08-30T06:31:44 | 5,691 | 43 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | "Run away, run away!! It's going to eat us!"
"My wife! My boy! It's going to eat them all!"
"Wait, could it be? Is it the great, fantastic...hmmm, magnificient Mighty Man!"
"Mighty Man, Mighty Man, he'll save us from the monsters!"
"Yes it is I, Mighty Man. The mightiest man in all of Pleasantville. I shalt slay you monsterous beast!"
"RAWWWWWWR!!"
"MIGHTY SMmmmmaaaaaaaaa-"
The door opens just slightly as little Timmy enters his father's study, envelopes placed haphazardly across the room.
"Did you see my action figures...Dad??" | Glass
Lottery was like my religion. I would treat everyday like Sunday. Everyday, I'd pray about my six numbers. I would even kneel. Because I was desperately hoping. Always. Always hoping to hit the jackpot.
I'd always wanted to buy my wife those south sea pearls her mother passed down unto her, but she pawned as we were poor and needed the money for my medication. And that pink dress on the mall she can only afford to stare at every time we would pass by that cheap local boutique. I can only hold her hands and smile during that painful walk by the mall. Maybe someday. Someday.
I ran down the stairs. Still fazed by my lack of my waking up ritual. But I'm used to it. Because it was always the same. Like every morning of any other day. And with hopes higher than the previous day, I was devastated by the greeting of my empty balcony. With no signs of that rolled paper thrown by that young underpaid boy. I waited. Frustrated.
I was woken up by a the touch of compacted sheets softly hitting my head and the faint chuckle of that poor boy with the sound of his bicycle chain slowly fading out the melodies of the morning songs of the birds.
I smiled. Opened the remains of what was a tree, and was greeted by that familiar smell that again woke up my hopes. And right there. At that very moment. I was happy. Because finally. Finally.
She looks so beautiful on that pink dress. With that smile that makes all the seven wonders dull. And with a tight grip I held the pearls on my shaking hands. Then tears bean falling my eyes. My eyes that hunger for her sight.
And I heard that clack. As my tears that fell down was stopped by the glass on her casket. | 2017-08-30T07:30:27 | 2017-08-30T07:26:10 | 33 | 11 |
[WP] Write a seemingly innocuous story, but the last line reveals how chilling and horrific the story actually was. | This is my first time ever doing a WP, or generally writing anything since quite a while ago, I just spontanously flicked through some prompts and decided to go for something.
___
"Children are a blessing" I thought to myself as I watched little Violet play with her friends, chasing eachother, laughing uncontrollably as they pushed one another into the sand and just enjoyed this sunny afternoon. Her friends being Emily and Sophie, all going to the same class.
It was a pretty hot day, so I was already anticipating the end of their sweet playtime, so I could go get some ice cream with my girl - a well deserved end to a great summer day.
That's when a figure approached me from the side, "Keeping a watchful eye on the young ones, eh?" chimed an attractive voice, as a fairly young woman sat down next to me on the bench.
"Indeed, one can never be careful enough. You look away for one second and you get a kid tripping and bruising its leg, followed by minutes of ear-shattering crying. It's funny, really, how fragile they are." I replied, my hamfisted attempt at conversation didn't go that bad, apparently, as she chuckled slightly and added "Yeah right, until they get some candy, then the pain magically disappears." A small laughter escaped me.
Time passed for a little while as I was reading a few pages in my book I always bring along, until some of the kids started to grow tired, perhaps it was about time to leave, finally.
"So, what is a young woman such as yourself doing here on the playground? You look way too young to be a mother of a six year old child. Unless you keep yourself in such great shape", I tried flirting, to alleviate some of my tension - social interactions were never a strong point.
She said "Well, same thing as you I suppose. But you're right, I'm picking up my cousin."
"That's unlikely," I responded to the first part, "but that explains why I've never seen you around. Which one is 'yours' then?"
"Oh, it's Violet. Excuse me, I mean that blonde one with the pigtails, yellow top.", she pointed out as the three girls started to finish up their playing and approached our bench.
I excused myself, having to go to the bathroom before I myself finish up, and quickly made my way away from the playground...
Maybe next time I'll get her. | "Look at this!"
"What a beautiful instrument! "
"The gleam on the lid, the golden pedals and- oh! Those ivory white keys!"
"Look at the shine! Crimson red- such a unique piano color. Truly one of a kind!"
"Davenforth, you've done it!" Sir William McMahon exclaimed, patting Charles Davenforth on the back with enthusiasm. "This is the most splendid piano I have ever seen, even more so than the one that premiered last night at the symphony."
"Thank you, sir, you are most kind," Charles responded, dabbing his forehead with his handkerchief.
"How on Earth," began Mrs. McMahon, "Did you manage to create such an instrument in such a short time? Everything about it is divine."
"I cannot take all the credit for this," Charles admitted abashedly. "The body itself took a large number of people, not to mention the keys. I could never have accomplished such a creation alone."
"You are a master of the piano," Mrs. McMahon purred, and the woman next to her nodded enthusiastically. "Your name will live forever in the hearts of music-lovers everywhere!"
Charles blushed, dabbing more hurriedly at his forehead. "You are too kind, but if you'll excuse me- I have matters to attend to-" He quickly stowed the kerchief in his coat pocket and made his way through the crowd to where the piano stood.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention please!" he called, and the noise in the room slowly dissipated. "Thank you all so very much for coming to see my newest masterpiece: the Cooper-Turner Model AB!" He smiled broadly as the crowd applauded wildly. "First and foremost, I have to thank the wonderful Cooper-Turner family and their estate for their generous contributions. This project would never have been completed had it not been for their sacrifice."
There was more applause.
"Unfortunately, the family could not make it tonight- they ran into some trouble in their travels. No matter! We will celebrate them tonight. A toast!"
----
Charles dropped his damp kerchief on the workbench in his cellar with a sigh. He ran his fingers across the dented wood, feeling the grooves with his fingertips. He glanced at the sketches littered around the room. Fletchers, Goodmans, Masons. All unfinished. Not enough raw materials.
Now the Cooper-Turners, that was a different story. So many family members. So many..elements to work with. It had taken longer than he cared to admit, but the materials - why, he still had some left over! The wood had stained so perfectly he had no need of a third coat as he had with the Fuller piano- he had almost had to procure another Fuller to finish the job. He glanced at the dusty jars of red liquid in the corner and smiled - he was covered for the next project.
Charles shook his head to clear his mind and pulled out a new sheet of paper and a pen. He dipped the pen in ink and paused. After a moment, he wrote, "McMahon Model O" and began to sketch.
He would have to be careful with the keys this time. The keys for the Cooper-Turner had been difficult, to put it lightly. Many bones were just too small -he had overestimated how old the children were- and he had had to make do with dog bones; he really would have preferred to just use the immediate family.
| 2017-10-06T16:15:18 | 2017-10-06T13:30:57 | 454 | 189 |
[Wp] You finally build enough courage to talk to that cute someone you see everyday on the bus. Their face turns dark as they respond "You shouldn't be able to see me." | Rain struck the bus shelter as the old, beaten down bus came to a halt. It was an off-green colour, the paint beginning to peel and rust forming around the wheel arches. It had been in service for 20 years, always on the same route, and arrived at this particular bus stop at 7:30 AM every morning to pick up morning commuters.
Dressed in his yellow and blue raincoat, Dave was one such commuter. Every morning, he would get this bus to the stop down the road from where he worked. He carried his old leather briefcase in one hand and fumbled with a handful of change in the other as the doors of the bus opened. The bus driver looked straight through Dave as he dropped the change on to the little counter.
"Sorry." Dave mumbled as he fumbled around, counting the correct amount out before pushing it towards the bus driver.
Now beet red in the face, he turned and began to look for a seat. And there she was again. The girl in the blue coat.
Only recently had he noticed her begin to get on the same bus but now he couldn't help but stare. She was pale with dark brown hair, a beacon of light on a gloomy Monday morning. As he looked over her, she looked back with an expression of confusion on her face.
*Oh god, she's seen me staring,* Dave thought as he scrambled to find an empty seat in an attempt to seem normal. *Maybe I should sit next to her and start a conversation. Nah, probably best to just sit and stare from a distance.*
Dave found the first empty seat he could and opened his newspaper. He had a long journey ahead of him and the daily news was the only thing to keep him occupied, despite the fact that he hadn't had chance to pick up a new newspaper and this one was almost a week old.
*Same old, same old,* Dave thought as he flicked through the paper. *Girl killed in horrific accident, 3 injured, man killed in armed robbery attempt, all cheery stuff to get me ready for my day.*
Deciding to take the risk, Dave peered over the top of his paper and saw the girl looking straight at him. Almost immediately, Dave pulled the paper back up to cover his face, before realising how strange he must look.
Pulling the paper back down again, and avoiding eye contact with the girl, he folded it and placed it neatly in his bag. Then he looked at her again, and she was still looking right back.
*Now is your chance Dave. Clearly, she wants to speak to you, just go for it.* he thought as he rose from his seat and awkwardly shuffled towards the empty seat next to the girl, almost falling as the bus came to a sudden halt.
"May I sit here?" Dave asked, motioning towards the empty seat. An expression that can only be described as terror crossed the woman's face.
*Oh god, now you've really done it Dave. Your face has terrified her so much she can't even bring herself to speak to you.* Dave thought as his face got redder and he realised that she hadn't replied yet.
"You can see me?" the girl asked in a tone that was little more than a whisper.
Now Dave was the one that was confused. *Maybe she is just as weird as you Dave. Maybe you do have a chance.*
"Shouldn't I be able to?" Dave asked in reply.
"Well, no not really. I mean, nobody else can anyway."
"Now, that is strange. Any idea why?"
"No, can't say I do. It's just that since last Wednesday, everybody that I try to talk to looks straight through me as though I'm not even there. I bought something from the shop this morning and the shopkeeper didn't even acknowledge me." The girl said, an expression of deep sadness crossing her face.
Dave thought back to the bus driver, who looked straight through him as he put his change on the counter. He thought of the days at work last week where nobody talked to him. He thought back to the weekend spent cooped up in his flat and the fact that everybody that called him couldn't hear him. At the time, he had chalked it up to a broken phone until he thought of the newspaper and the girl killed in the accident on Wednesday.
And the man that was killed in an attempted armed robbery.
"Can you remember what you did Wednesday night?" Dave asked the girl as he slowly began to imagine the worst.
"I remember leaving work and then arriving home, but I felt ill once I got there so I went to bed. I can't remember how I got home."
"Me neither." Dave replied.
The rain pounded the windows on the bus as the two sat in silence, cold and unseen, waiting for somebody to notice them.
Edit: Just wanted to thank everybody for the kind responses, makes me want to write more! | I assume he followed the same routine every day. He’d be on the bus when I would get on after work at 5:43, and he’d stay on the bus after I got off near my home at 6:27. He always sat in the same seat, and no one ever sat next to him even if the bus was packed. My car had been in the shop for a while now, pending me actually having enough money to fix it, so I had started using the bus to get to work. I imagine he was there the first few times I got on, but I just never noticed.
That in and of itself is surprising, consider how attractive he was. He had curly blonde hair that was neatly cut above his shoulders, and he was always dressed very smart in a grey suit with a vest. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed he always wore the same outfit. The first time I’d noticed him, he had looked at me. Not really AT me, more like through me, but that had been enough. His eyes were a sharp blue, and somehow incredibly sad. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and yet he looked as if he’d seen a hundred lifetimes.
He never made eye contact with anyone and most of the time he stared out the window, lost in his own world. I found myself entranced by his figure, sitting there alone every evening. I wondered if he had a family, if he had a wife to go home to every night. And if he did, why did he always look so sad?
I normally don’t mess with other people’s business. I like being left alone, so I just assume other people prefer it too. But this man was different. I wanted to learn more about him, get to know him, and maybe, just maybe, learn what it was he had seen that haunted him. That Thursday night as I stood outside waiting like usual, I made up my mind. The monstrous city bus rolled up to the stop slowly, its windshield wipers going full speed to clear the rain. I got on and swiped my commuter pass.
As I had expected, and hoped, there he was in his same seat with his same suit and the same expression. I walked down the aisle to the back where he sat. The bus wasn’t full this evening, but most of the seats were taken. No one paid me any attention as I nonchalantly sat in the seat next to his. I shifted my bag so it was sitting on my lap, the only noise aside from the rumble of the engine and the pounding rain.
He looked at me, if only briefly, and I suddenly had butterflies in my stomach. He didn’t say anything, just a quick glance to confirm that there was indeed another human being sat next to him before he went back to looking out the window.
I knew my time was brief, I only had about 30 minutes to talk before I would have to get off the bus. But maybe if things went well, I’d stay on a little longer and pay the extra fare. Maybe. As we pulled up to the next stop, I made my move.
“Hi,” I said quietly. It almost felt wrong to break the weird non-silence of the bus, but I wouldn’t likely be able to muster up the courage to do this again.
He didn’t answer, didn’t even blink.
“Um…I see you on this route a lot, do you have a long commute?”
Still nothing. Time to be a little more forceful. I shifted as much as I could in my small seat so that I was partially facing him.
“My name’s Jane. What’s yours?”
No response again, and I started to get disheartened. But then I saw his eyes flick down to my legs, and it seemed to register that I was facing him. Slowly, he turned towards me and met my eyes.
“Come again?” he asked quietly, barely above a whisper. His voice was deeper than I had expected.
“I said I’m Jane, and I wanted to know your name.”
He was quiet again, and I noticed his face darken. I hadn’t expected that response. If anything, I figured he’d either brush me off or ignore me, but I hadn’t expected him to get angry.
“You shouldn’t be able to see me,” he said in a fierce but still quiet voice.
“I…what? Of…course I can-I shouldn’t be ABLE to see you?”
He shook his head slightly in the negative without breaking eye contact. “No, you shouldn’t.”
Now I thought maybe I’d made a mistake, that I’d somehow become infatuated with a crazy guy who I should have left alone. I gave a half hearted smile, hoping to put him at ease. Slowly, I made a move to get up and switch seats so I could mentally berate myself for talking to strangers on the bus.
His hand whipped out and grabbed my arm as I tried to stand. His grip was tight and his hand was cold, almost painfully cold.
“You can’t leave.” His dark, cold voice sent a shiver up my spine.
I moved to pull away, but his grip tightened. I tried calling for help, but I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. Looking around frantically, I willed someone to look at me, to save me. But the bus was empty. I looked at the man again, his iron grip and his ice cold eyes keeping me locked in place. His sad, tormented face had become one of dark anger. I still couldn’t breathe properly and I felt tears sting my eyes. It was cold now, very cold. My vision started going dark but I couldn’t look away. All I could see was this man in front of me, this terrifyingly beautiful man.
I had made a terrible mistake.
-----
*EDIT: Wow thank you all for the positive feedback! I'm so glad you liked it, I've never written anything like this before. I'll definitely work on continuing the story!* | 2017-10-13T03:15:26 | 2017-10-13T00:21:24 | 2,073 | 660 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a natural tattoo of their spirit animal. Every person gets the traits and abilities of their respective animal. But when you were born your father, having a bear tattoo and your mother, bearing a dove tattoo, were horrified. Leviathan.
Edit. Wow thank you to everyone who submitted thie stories here. Never expected it to blow up this much. | On the day of his birth, Craig Barclay was visited by every wise man within travelling distance. Birth had become rare, Humanity on the brink of extinction. To witness such an event was a treasure. They brought gifts fitting for the family.
His father was born with the mark of the Bear on his back. It was large, indicating that he would heavily resemble his patron animal. He was strong, protective, and cared deeply for food.
His mother was born with the mark of the Dove. It was small, on the back of her hand. Non-threatening and clearly visible. She was kind and had the ability to ease tensions.
They worked as diplomats. She stopped wars. He stopped others from harming her. They were easily recognized. He was massive, covered in thick hair, leaving little visible skin. She was pale in contrast, thin and light of frame.
It was assumed that Craig would have something fitting his family's ancestry. Wolves, for example, almost always bore Wolf marked children. Children of Salmon parents nearly always marks of some Fish.
To think that Craig might have been born marked by the Bear, Dove, or Armadillo seemed logical. Maybe a Badger or a different kind of Bird would be in order. They speculated whether it would be as large as his father's, which would have been the size of an apple on his newborn body. Or small, barely visible on his newborn flesh, like his mother's.
As gifts of wool and food were placed in the room, the midwife pulled Craig free. His first wail in the world brought them all to tears. An aide cleaned his body as his mother finished giving birth.
His parents and guest shared a meal of celebration. In a few short hours, his mark would appear.
The Armadillo marked midwife gifted medicines to the parents and an ointment for the mother. The Mole marked farmer from down the lane gifted them with a bundle filled with dried mushrooms. A Wolf marked hunter provided a new pelt to keep the new babe warm. His grandmother, who was marked by the Hummingbird gifted a bottle of sweet wine to the new parents. Dozens more left food, clothing, tools, and trinkets for the new family.
They cleared away the food and shared stories. Speculation rose again. It was considered good luck to guess what patron would choose a child.
"Your child will bring joy to those around him, with a quick wit, and a fierce laugh. He will be marked by Hyena."
"Nonsense, your child will be daring and carefree, growing up safe under your care. He will be chosen by Squirrel for sure!"
"Wouldn't it be funny if he was chosen by Spider or Fox? A mischievous child would shake things up for you two. You are always so calm and quiet. The change would be nice." Many laughed at this. It was not likely.
"Your father was marked by Jacana." The father's mother spoke up for the first time in a while. Everyone listened. "He was fiercely protective of you children. I believe that bird's protective nature is why you were chosen by Bear. Yet you married a Bird. Maybe your son will be chosen by Jacana as well. He would inherit many traits from you both." Her voice shook slightly as she spoke. The loss of the elder was still recent in everyone's mind.
Nods of assent and murmurs of agreement spread through the group. No one wanted to speak against that.
They sat in polite conversation until a small black line sprouted on the child's right hand. Excitement spread as everyone turned to watch.
A thin tentacle spiraled and grew longer. "An Octopus?" someone offered.
"Too long. A Squid?"
It kept growing. The tentacle stretched the length of his arm. The mark bloomed across his back, they turned him over so all could see. As the mark became a body, more tentacles spread. Dozens of them grew along both arms and legs, around his neck, and around his face.
Everyone became silent. No one had ever seen a mark this large. No one had seen an animal like this. "What... What is it?" His mother asked in a quiet tone.
It was, again, his grandmother who spoke up. The single word slammed into all that heard.
"Leviathan."
His mother burst into tears. His father passed the child to his own mother to comfort his wife. The guests left quickly and quietly.
Everyone came to see what fruit the ambassadors of peace would bear. They came with hope and happiness. They left in despair. No one could have imagined that they would be witnessing the birth of the bringer of death, war, famine, and destruction, an unstoppable soldier with an endless bloodlust. No one would survive his reign unscathed.
All they could hope, is that his parents were strong enough. They had the chance to stop him now, before it was too late.
{Whelp, that turned out a bit differently than I intended, but it works, so I'm keeping it. What do you guys think?} | It was a pretty quite night for the hospital. Haven Metro-General was one of the biggest in the area, so the calm seemed surreal at best. It set me on edge.
"Mind if I burn one?," I asked my partner, trying to sound more casual then I felt. I obviously failed, as the big jowly man eyed me sidelong over his coffee.
He took a sip, and sighed. "You know those things will kill ya, dontcha Bert?" he grumbled, eyeing the monitors. "Not to mention, it'll dull that nose of yours. What goods a cop that can't smell?"
"Still a better shot then you'll ever be Sarge." That provoked a warning growl, but it was a good natured one, one I knew well. It was a little ritual we observed, with him pretending to care about my health, and me quipping back with something I deemed clever. It kept things light in our sometimes grim job.
"Yeah, go ahead," He finally assented, glancing at the clock. "You got five minutes. Ten if you bring me another coffee." I tipped my hat to him with a smile, grabbed my smokes and I.D., and headed out of the little world that was our cubicle. "Terriers..." I heard him mutter, "Never sittin' still for a second..." I smiled again and headed out the the sliding doors of the lobby.
I pulled a cigarillo out and lit it with a quick match strike. As I took a drag, I took a moment to savor the flavor. Bacon. My favorite. A bit on the pricey side, so they were only a once-in-a-while treat.
I went to take another drag, and the world went sideways. I felt like I had just slammed a whole bottle of whiskey and skipped being drunk. My smoke fell to the ground, forgotten, as I clutched my head, a small whine escaping my lips as the pain sliced through me. My senses went upside down: My nose was going wild; my ears filled with a screaming that wasn't mine; I could smell colors, and yellow was just awful... And as suddenly as it came, it stopped.
Automatically, I wheeled to look at the hospital. What was it? Dog whistle? EMP? Was the hospital under attack?
But then I knew. My senses were all dragged to one window. The only one that was lit on the giant building. I cocked my ears, and I heard it: the mewling of an infant. Whispers, urgent, worried. A scream and a body hitting the floor.
Without another thought I took off. Nearly busted through the automatic doors as they slid open. I skidded to halt in from of the cubicle.
"Sarge! What's going on?!" I nearly shouted. The big man looked disoriented, like he was daydreaming, but no daydream should strike the loom of fear the was plastered to his face. "Sarge!" He didn't respond. He dreamily razed a hang and stroked the tattoo on his arm, the big bulldog that he so accurately personified. I took a second and realized mine was burning.
Ignoring it, I slapped the glass with an open palm, shouting for real now, "Sergeant Bigsby!"
"Wussit...?" he shook his head, placing a hand on his forehead and groaning. "Bertrand? What's going on...?"
"No time Sarge!" I was panting. With excitement, fear? I wasn't sure, "The only patient, the delivery! What room?!" The sergeant looked taken aback, but his face clouded with irritation.
"The hell are you talking about? We may be friends, but you'll resp-" I cut him off with a negating gesture.
"Sarge, I'm sorry, but it's not important," I nearly pressed my face to the glass, my breath clouding on the glass. "What's. The. Room?" The sergeants face still looked thunderous, but he consulted a list in front of him. His confusion seemed to have cleared and he was all business now.
"301. You head up and chrck it out. Radio down the situation. I'm going to call the station for backup and a sit rep. And Bert," He fixed me with a bloodshot eye, "Be careful up there." I nodded and took off.
If I was one of the few guys whose tail sprouted, it would be wagging, I was so excited. And I had hackles, those would be up too. I realized as I ran up the stairs that I was clenching my teeth so hard my jaw ached. I stopped at the wards door, taking a breath to calm myself. I dredged up what little academy training I remembered, and walked in... who knew it was so hard to look professional and not cry at the same time.
I found the room and listened. Two voices, quite. Multiple smells. Panic, fear, and new baby. My neck prickled as I reached for the door handle. Every sense, every instinct was telling me to run, to hide, to fight. I rested on hand on my tazer, and with one more gulp of air, pushed the door in.
Nothing in my life could have prepared me for what was within.
As my knees gave way and I slumped to the ground, jaw slack with sensory overload, my brain slowly took in the scene: An elegant women, looking haggard, either asleep or dead in the bed; The nurse, sprawled on the floor, the look of peace on her face a stark contrast to the maelstrom of feelings in the room; A massive man, bear tattoo stark on his shoulder, cradling a tiny bundle, completely enraptured.
A a bit of the blanket fell away from the bundle, revealing a tiny, beautiful face, eyes closed in sleepy bliss. Upon her head a tattoo. Faint, but rapidly darkening. A great, winged beast. Divine, yet terrible. Mouth and claws outstretched as of to devour the world:
LEVIATHAN.
: | 2017-11-08T05:45:29 | 2017-11-08T05:34:44 | 192 | 23 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a natural tattoo of their spirit animal. Every person gets the traits and abilities of their respective animal. But when you were born your father, having a bear tattoo and your mother, bearing a dove tattoo, were horrified. Leviathan.
Edit. Wow thank you to everyone who submitted thie stories here. Never expected it to blow up this much. | At birth, it had looked like a small silver dragonfly. Uncommon, but not unheard of. It had started on my side, just above my left hip. My parents had been so pleased, but my mother shone with pride. She was marked with the dove and not prone to excessive emotions, but seeing the tiny, glittering wings on her daughter had filled her heart with joy. My father had all of the traits of the bear, a common mark amongst the burlier men, and they had been worried their tiny girl would be more masculine because of it. A dragonfly, though. It marked me as quiet, demure, and beautiful. It gave my family a sense of accomplishment, and they looked forward to the promises of good fortune and peace that the mark assured.
As I grew, the mark grew, too. What started as a small tattoo the size of a penny grew and elongated, eventually wrapping itself around my midsection, the enormous wings unfurling down my back, the head quietly resting along my right bicep. I was 18 when it finally stopped growing. Thank the Old Ones, the color stayed dim and dull, the cautious silver of faded stretch marks. It was easy enough to cover in sleeved shirts, and I was by nature a modest person (unlike Katalia, who took every opportunity to show off the small hummingbird imprinted just above her left breast).
As my serpent grew, my parents stopped acknowledging that I even had a totem creature. The Elder Council was told of my dragonfly upon my birth, and it was decided not to correct them. Publicly, I was a dragonfly, which matched my personality (or maybe my personality was shaped in accordance to my erroneous totem), but privately, I was nothing. The Unmarked. 'Atashii.' My younger brother had been born a wolf, my sister, a fox. I was nothing but a monster.
Little did they know, I would one day become the Savior of Worlds. | There are thousands of stories of the great heroes of our time, stories meant to inspire the children despite their anima. It is believed that no anima was inferior to another, no anima was stronger or weaker, and so we tell stories of of both Regar the Lion, who came from a farming village and went to conquer 40 kingdoms and bed 10000 women, as well as Tillus the mouse, who overthrew Regar with his instinct and wit just to save the one woman he loved from being another of Regar's concubines. But we always hide the stories of the legendary anima, because their existence breaks our vision of the world. These people are born with potential, and contain ability that surpasses any attainable human power. And while many have been glorious heroes and saviors of mankind, we must ignore them, for a greater light casts a darker shadow.
I tell to you now, one of these stories, one that perhaps should never be told. The story of Ilius, the leviathan. His father was a raging bear, consumed with dominance and power, but his lack of ability to tap into the innate strength of the bear led to weakness and fear, and eventually evil. By the time Ilius was born, the once proud man was a heavy drinker due to his successive, and ruthlessly beat his wife in drunken stupor. And the mark of the leviathan on his son, only made him angrier. His pride would not take that his son would be a greater man than himself, so he treated Ilius cruelly. His mother was a dove, a dove trapped in a cage with wings clipped, only watching the brutality of her husband as he beat her only child and raped him. She loved ilius but not as a son, but as a beacon that distracted his father, but Ilius mistook this love as it was his only light in his dark world. On his 9th birthday, his father comes back from the tavern in a rage from gambling away his meager earnings and returns home to vent his stress. But this time it is different, as he comes home to ilius smiling with his mother making dinner. He sees finally, that even his attempt to take away happiness from his ill borne son has failed and in his rage, he beats ilius to near death. Ilius begs for mercy in his pain, but as he looks to his mother, he sees the light gone from her. He sees her fear, not for him, but for the lack of him.
The next morning, the boy once called Ilius was found in the ruins of what seemed to be a collapsed, burned family home. He sat there with inky black eyes covered in reptilian scale, in the black pitch of the family room. The walls were not burned, but rather devoid of color, black like burnt wood but with no ash. Sheriffs found two bodies, left only bones with the flesh turned to tar. They say that this was the beginning of the leviathan, the monster who ate any light that tried to see into his dark abyss. | 2017-11-08T06:02:20 | 2017-11-08T05:57:15 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a natural tattoo of their spirit animal. Every person gets the traits and abilities of their respective animal. But when you were born your father, having a bear tattoo and your mother, bearing a dove tattoo, were horrified. Leviathan.
Edit. Wow thank you to everyone who submitted thie stories here. Never expected it to blow up this much. | **Leviathan**
Mom and dad never looked at me with love. In fact, they tried not to look at me at all. Dad was as strong as a bear, mom was soft as a dove, and I was... To be honest, I wasn't sure what I was. No one really knew. Whatever creature imprinted itself into my skin wasn't of this world. It sort of resembled a dragon with its large gnashing teeth and scaled body, but it's appendages would not be called legs or wings. One could even maintain the beast was eel-like, but much more powerful and sinister than a common sea snake.
They named me Leviathan. That's what you called monsters that took the sea as their home. Some days I think they even wished that that's where I actually came from; relieving some of their guilt. At work, dad would tell his fellow trawlers that I had no strength—not like him at least—and that I was born cursed. Mom was the same, only more sympathetic. Through a fake smile she'd suggest things like, "We just haven't quite found his calling," or, "He's good at lots of things." Doves were always too polite.
My classmates tried not to look at me either. They were all "normal". Up and down the halls were rodents, hounds, reptiles, and horses. It's funny how they tended to move and speak just like the creatures tattooed on their backs, although it didn't stop them from teasing me. In class, at lunch, and even in the halls I'd get mocked for having a "broken basilisk" or a "hideous hydra" on my own back; even though it was no fault of mine. I'd grit my teeth through the day and sit quietly at whichever desk was nearest the window. For some reason peering out at the Pacific always brought comfort.
Last week was our annual field trip to the Port Arena Lighthouse and Museum in Northern California. I always looked forward to this outing despite being ridiculed to no end on the bus ride north. The day began just as I predicted; the carnivores would steal my lunch bag or my backpack while the herbivores would call me names from a safe distance. It was all routine at this point. Still, I was excited to climb the stairs of the towering lighthouse and hang over the railing. Oh to feel the misty ocean air on my face.
Two hours into the journey and the the entire vehicle jolted violently. Students were thrown from their seats and the ocean was suddenly visible from the front windshield. We had lost a tire. The horrific squeal of tires matched those of frightened children until the bus toppled over onto its side and slid towards the towering cliff. There was so much momentum. There was no stopping the bus now. The last image anyone saw was whitecapped waves crashing against the craggy bluff before the school bus submerged into a frigid, watery tomb.
Only a few seconds passed before the crisp salt water kissed my skin. Something on my back squirmed. When my eyes opened I felt a power I had never sensed before. I could see, I could breathe, I could swim, and I felt unbelievably strong! My next motion was to look around. Where was I? Somehow I had been thrown from the sinking bus but I could still see the flickering lights as it dove deeper and deeper into the colorless depths. I had to do something! But what? Somehow I instinctively already knew.
I dove down after the bus at an unimaginable speed. I passed the drowning vessel with no effort at all and grabbed it with my outstretched hands. With a grip that could puncture steel, I propelled my body and the bus upwards towards the dim light protruding the shallows. Up, up, up I went as smoothly as if I was wearing flippers and carrying nothing. After only moments the bus and I broke the water's surface and I heard many gasps for air; they were alive. Thinking quickly, with the bus still in hand, I waded towards the nearest beach and heaved the vehicle onto the sand. Water poured from the cracked windows and one by one the passengers exited. They all stood, soaking wet and coughing, on the barren beach. I was slowly exiting the water myself when was met with dozens of pairs of eyes.
They were all looking at me now.
-Chris Berke | I’m told that when I was born, my birthmark was barely visible on my shoulder. Just a smudge on newborn flesh. It wasn’t uncommon for someone’s mark to be illegible at birth, and most people were comfortable with the thought of it becoming clearer as I grew older. The more I grew into my spirit animal, they thought, the more detail would grow from the mark.
Everyone was convinced it would be some combination of my parents’ traits—my mother was quiet, my father large; perhaps a tiger? Or a swan, for my mother’s grace and my father’s temper? Innumerable speculations were made by curious others. As a child, I never had enough understanding of the matter to care much.
My father wanted me to be like him. I know he did. He was disappointed that I wasn’t a boy, and disappointed that I wasn’t big, I wasn’t strong, didn’t like to hunt, cried too easily. He did everything he could think of to make me better, but you cannot change someone’s nature.
My mother, as far as I know, never wanted anything from me. I wasn’t sure if she was glad that I took some of father’s attention away, or guilty. Her quiet grace was, at times, entirely unreadable.
Throughout my early years, my birthmark didn’t change much. It shifted position, or some parts were elongated or shortened, and it got quite a bit larger, but it never became any clearer. By the time I had survived seven years on this earth, my mark had grown to cover my entire right shoulder blade. If I twisted *just* so in the mirror, I could see the amorphous black thing, and I always thought it looked like a storm cloud.
On my ninth birthday, my father came home from the hunt, angry and intoxicated. I knew he took his mead with him on longer hunts, but I’d never seen him like this. He slammed the front door open and let out a vicious growl. I looked to my mother, shocked, only to find that she was pale and wide eyed with fear. When I looked back at my father, his eyes seemed to glow with hatred, and he kicked the door shut behind him.
“Where’s dinner,” he spat, and my mother rocketed out of her chair, hands flitting about like dove wings in her nervousness.
“I didn’t expect you home so early today,” she explained, but it did no good. My father, the bear of a man, snarled at his wife.
“I’ve been away for two days and you didn’t even have the decency to cook for me? What do you provide for this family that I don’t?” he shouted. “I hunt for food, I make the money, I bring in everything to trade. All I ask is that you have food ready for me when I get home from working all day!”
“I’m so sorry,” my mother whispered, already on the verge of tears.
“Papa,” I pleaded. The back of his hand found my cheek in a split second, and I was on the ground before I realized what was happening.
“And what do you want, you greedy little shit? All you do is eat my food and breathe my air. What do you have to offer this family?”
And then I was crying too.
After twelve years of this, the tentacles became clearer. “An octopus,” some said, “timid but strong.” “No, no, it’s a squid,” argued others. “Wicked smart and deadly.”
When I was sixteen, I fancied myself in love. She was a fox with a groundhog birthmark. She was clever, and kind, and blunt. She never lied—said it was a waste of her time and energy. “What’s the point?” she’d say. “Spare people’s feelings? Pah. Useless.” But she never said anything mean, and always looked out for her friends. I decided I was in love with her, and she decided I might be worth a try. Unfortunately, it was an ill fated match.
My father discovered us once, and it was as if I’d forgotten what his rage looked like. I could only stand by and watch as he destroyed the one good thing in my life. I barely moved for weeks afterwards.
When I was seventeen, my father caught my mother attempting to run away from him. I walked into our kitchen that morning because I heard yelling, and I thought ‘maybe this time I’ll be brave enough to do something. Maybe this time I can stand up for myself, and my mother.’
My father’s fists were moving faster than I could track. My mother lay on the ground, sobbing, blood dripping down her face from several open cuts on her forehead, eyebrows, and cheeks. I stepped forward and told my father to stop. Surprisingly, he did. But only to turn his fury towards me.
After that, things get a little blurry. All I know for sure is that, immediately after my episode, my father was almost dead and my birthmark was clear as day. A Leviathan, with needle like teeth, tentacles strong enough to crush buildings, body slim enough to speed through oceans faster than any ship.
Now I know why my birthmark wasn’t clear when I was born. Fate, or whatever marked our spirit animals so clearly on our bodies, was giving me a chance—*become your true self, with no guidance from me.* But my fate was sealed by my own father. I wasn’t born a Leviathan.
Some monsters are made. | 2017-11-08T07:05:24 | 2017-11-08T06:50:26 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone is born with 1-100 tally marks tattooed on their arm. The higher your number, the more valuable you are and the more successful you will be. You bully a kid because he is obviously hiding a low score. One day, he rolls up his sleeve to show an infinity symbol. | I take a glance across the hall. Who's going to get in my way this morning? Who's going to get my day ruined, again. Who am I kidding, it's the same, scrawny, sad excuse for a boy. The one who thinks he deserves to share the same space with someone like me, a stalwart 92. Does he have an ounce of respect? Does he think he can continue hiding the fact he will never amount to anything? There's a simple, unwritten rule in our society: Thou shall not expose thy numeral. Everyone knows what happens when you break that rule, the courts here don't account for rationality. Indeed the way of life here is strict, but I suppose it serves a purpose. It's easier to control people whose lives are already set out for them.
The issue arises when someone like me, destined to be a great, gets mixed in with these useless, space-wasting, single digits. And there's no way for me to object. I can't prove their value, I'm not allowed to prove mine. Why oh why is the education system set up this way, to fail. My path should be easy to follow: society should set me up, and I will give back greatness. It's not hard. But no. Kids like Nick, a lanky, clumsy looking 10th year, get in my way on a daily basis. So, of course I act the way I do. Having the number I do doesn't prevent me from having a temper, and almost all the people in my sector have a lower value than me, from the principle to the court-master.
"Get the fuck out of my way, rat." I yell, as I yank away his satchel bag and shove him to the floor.
"I - I- you can't, you shouldn't be -" He stutters.
"Shut it, you waste my time, you waste everyone's time." I can't believe it, this kid has the audacity to lecture me on how I should be living my life.
"You'll regret this, I - I -" He doesn't get it, does he. I raise my fist. I'm like a bottle of champagne, shaken by victors, about to burst. But then he makes a gesture and I can't quite believe what he's considering doing. He reaches his left arm to the creased cuff of his right.
"You wouldn't dare." I scoff.
"It doesn't matter, y-y-you see, I'm different to the others." Amazing, I think to myself, he's self aware, and he's about to make the most stupid decision of his life.
"Oh yes, I'm sure you are. I'd expect nothing more from a single-digit like you." He's actually doing it, he begins rolling up his sleeve. This will be the first time I see another person's value and I'm not sure if I'll be able to hold in my laughter when I see it. And there it is, the stencilled black marking on the outside of his shoulder, showing, as I had always suspect- Wait. No. It cannot be. He jumps to his feet.
"Are you happy now?!" He utters, now more confidently than I've ever heard him speak. I'm lost for words.
"I - I, I mean I - only in legends. What did you do, th-this can't be real." I had heard about the Lemniscates in old stories, but for them to exist today? It simply doesn't make sense, it can't be possible.
"Times are changing, the integer-bred will soon be futile when the singularity arrives." I'm startled, confused, he utters in a voice now long lost of the boy that is skinny Nick.
"Disturb me one more time and you will not see the light of day again, integer-born." His eyes glowing, his tone almost a roar.
"Okay, I - I'm sorry, you have my word, it won't happen again." I have not feared this much since I can remember. And then, as if a consuming energy is drawn away from his slim body, he releases a large sigh and falls back to the floor, back to the unassuming persona of skinny Nick. He looks up at me expressionless, and before he has a chance to speak, I turn my back and sprint for the door. What on earth just happened?
| (I didn't exactly follow the prompt, sorry in advance)
"You're obviously hiding, like, a two, no, a zero!" I teased. I peered curiously at him. "What number *do* you have though, seriously? Just tell me and I'll stop bothering you."
"No you won't. You'll just bother me more." Arthur insisted.
"It can't be *that* bad."
Arthur sighed, and rolled up his sleeve.
I choked.
He didn't have any tally marks.
He had an infinity symbol.
"Told you."
"Is that... what? Is that fake or something? There's no way that- what does that even *mean*?"
"I don't know."
"How can someone have infinite success?" I pondered. "Does that mean you'll be infinitely rich? Know everything there is to know? Rule the world?"
"What? Is that what success means to you?" Arthur sounded almost... disgusted.
"Yes? What does it mean to you?"
"Success means happiness."
"Oh. It means that for me too."
"You think wealth, knowledge, and power will give you happiness?"
"Yeah? I tend to view things in a materialistic way, leave me alone."
"So you think that if you were super rich, super knowledgeable, and super powerful, you have to be happy too?"
"No, but it's not like I can really hope to be happy."
"Anyone can be happy!"
"If you view the world through rose-tinted glasses, maybe."
"Who's the one here that apparently has infinite success?"
"Maybe it's not infinity, maybe it just means you have no tally marks because it means zero." I suggested. Arthur just stared at me. "Okay, so maybe that's stretching it, but it's possible. You can't be sure that it means you'll be infinitely successful."
"Well, you're sure that your number means you'll have that amount of success, right?"
"Yeah, but that's different. My number is..." I looked away for a moment.
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
"What's your number? I showed you mine, you should have to show me yours."
"Well, you know how everyone has somewhere from one to a hundred tally marks tattooed on them, right?"
"Well, aside from me, yes."
"And how having only one means they'll be homeless, poor, hated, generally miserable beyond imagination, and a hundred means they'll be famous, rich, and beloved by all, probably make some sort of important contribution to society?"
"Yeah, and? Do you have a low number?"
"I... have a neutral number."
"You have a 50?"
"No, I mean, in terms of numbers in math, only one number is neutral. I have *that* number."
"You... don't have a tally mark? Not even one?"
"That... explains a lot."
"Yeah, I know. Explains why I'm such an asshole, right?"
"No, I mean it explains why you hate yourself so much."
"Sure it does." I shrugged. "I got unlucky, what can you do?"
"The tally marks don't dictate your life. Maybe this means that you'll determine your own success, that your future isn't set in stone."
"I doubt it." I looked up wistfully. "I'll just enjoy life while I still can. Once it gets miserable enough, I'll just kill myself, I think. It's not I'll contribute to society anyway."
Arthur looked horrified. "That's not..."
"Moving on!" I smiled. "What kind of career do you want to go into? Like, I want to know if you'll be a super famous comedian, engineer, what kind of discovery or contributions will you make? Maybe you'll be immortal and go into every field, that could explain it."
"We're just going to-"
"Yes, we are." I cut him off. "Also, don't just ignore me, answer the question, man!" I pouted.
"I... okay. I'm not sure what field I want to go into, to be honest. Some sort of scientific field sounds nice, especially since I'm guaranteed success, so if I go into science, I'll make a significant discovery, right? Or maybe I'll try to be a celebrity and be beloved for infinity. I don't know, there's a lot I could do. What about..." He stopped himself. "Let me at least check if you have any tally marks." Arthur suddenly insisted.
"Do you not trust me?"
"It won't hurt to try." I glared at him. "Come on, please?"
"I..." I looked away. "... fine. Maybe you can do something, Mr. Infinite Success."
He pulled up my sleeves, revealing thousands of red tally marks, scars that were clearly intentionally made, some of them looking recent, some looking as if they'd been there for years. "What are these...? Did you do this to yourself?"
"Some of these."
"Wait, then who's giving you the rest?"
"Take a wild guess." I sighed, pulling down my sleeves, before checking the time. "I got to go, it's late."
"Wait, you can't just leave after revealing *that!*"
I looked backwards. "I can, and I will!"
I ran out the door, and disappeared into the night.
*Tonight seems like a good night to die. After all, Arthur has an infinity symbol. That means even if I die, he'll still be successful, he'll still be happy. My death will have had no effect. My death means nothing.*
*I mean nothing to him.*
"Goodbye." I whispered. | 2018-12-27T17:17:45 | 2018-12-27T16:33:21 | 81 | 29 |
[WP] one day, the we wake up to find that we can no longer age or die. No one new is able to be born, and people stay in the same age and body that they were in on that fateful day. | To most people, the day that we stopped aging is celebrated as a worldwide holiday. It happened nearly three centuries ago. Some days i just lay in bed crying. Wanting for it to end.
Why? I’m not suicidal or anything. I’m just tired. I was nine months pregnant when it happened. Days away from welcoming my second daughter to the world. We had her nursery ready and her crib up. Then the day. You could feel the change spread though your body. Not painful, just not comfortable. Comparably no cost for immortality.
Not for me. Or any of the other thousands of pregnant women. Some have had their fetuses removed by now. Others, like me, just keep waiting. Waiting for the day that our aging restarts. I know my baby is still alive. Confirmed it more than once with an OBGYN before they went out of business.
Her heart beats slow and steady, waiting for the day she can be born. She might survive a Csection, but she might not. It’s had a low success rate for the women brave enough to try so far. I’m content to just wait.
Honestly what drives me a bit batty is my oldest daughter. Lyra. She’s 4. Well like 304 now, but she is the mentality and physicality of a 4 year old. She wants mac and cheese with hot dogs every day for lunch. She colors on the walls when I’m not looking. She has a favorite stuffed animal she sleeps with at night.
Worst of all, she doesn’t know that she should be aging. She knew we had told her she was going to be a big sister soon, but when that didn’t happen she was confused. She used to ask every day for the first fifty years. She will now every once and again, but for the most part she’s forgotten.
Dealing with her for so long… I love her dearly, don’t get me wrong - I just was ready to see her grow up into the beautiful woman I knew she could be.
This morning however, something changed. It didn’t feel like when the immortality began, but it was… different. I was cooking Lyra’s breakfast. As I turned to the table and took a step forward - my water broke. I called 911, we still have hospitals as everyone stayed exactly the same as they had been before whatever happened.
The operator laughed at me, but I was in full hysteria, so she sent an ambulance out to get me. Thank god, because when the first contraction hit, I blacked out.
I woke up in the ER, with more doctors staring at my lady bits than I felt comfortable with.
“What’s going on?” I asked them, confused.
One, who looked like a woman in her mid thirties answered, “Well, it looks like you’re in labor dear.”
“I meant, why are there so many people in the room? And none of them are my husband…”
“Oh, well, all the doctors in the hospital were in disbelief. They all had to see for themselves.”
“Okay… That’s nice, but I would appreciate if we delivered my baby with minimal staff. I’m uncomfortable.”
“Of course dear. You’re already almost there. You’re fully dilated and were having steady contractions while unconscious.”
As she said that, another hit. I didn’t pass out this time, but fuck. I had forgotten what pain even felt like.
They got me on meds and worked on my breathing. Then it was time to push. As my daughter was born, the room was silent, waiting to see if she would take her first breath.
Oh mighty lord, did she ever. Screamed louder than any baby I had ever heard. She was perfect. I wanted to hold her so badly, but the doctors demanded extensive tests on both her and I. So they whisked her away before I even got to see her fully.
What I did notice however was she had a fine silver hair.
I had chosen the name Lily three centuries ago, but at that moment, it no longer fit. I told a nurse that her name was to be Adi. Hopefully I would get to hold her soon.
r/LandOfMisfits | There's a limit to how smart a baby can get. There just is. It's a fact. Adults think with their prefrontal cortex, and, well, babies don't. That's what I'm told, at any rate -- but really, I think it's just 'cause their brains are much smaller than ours.
Some of them learn to walk. Some learn to talk -- even better than some adults I know. They've got good memory, you see. Good at recalling and learning and all that stuff. But there comes a point where one word slides in, and another slips out. Only so much grey matter in there.
I've never met a baby that understands that they're trapped. That we, as a race, are cursed. That realises they're not meant to stay that age, that their limbs aren't meant to look like bloated cucumbers forever. They're always cheery and chirpy and smiling. And the parents are always there, ever attentive, always weary. Eternal slaves to these weird little creatures caught between childhood and growing up.
Do I feel sorry for the parents? It's hard to, you know. When there are people like Eric about.
Eric used to draw comics. Loved doing it as a kid, and turned that passion into a living. That's how to do it, right? Live life doing what you love. Then, when Eric was in his late twenties -- still young -- his hands stopped drawing like they always had done before. He said it was as if 'someone had tied strings to them', and was jerking them around all strange. His artwork went from character portraits, to abstract, quite accidentally. First doc thought it was early onset Parkinson's. But it turned out to be Motor Neuron Disease. The one, so long ago, people were throwing buckets of ice over their heads and calling out their friends to do the same, pretending they knew why they were all doing it in the first place.
So, Eric's limbs went from twisting and jerking, to stationary. Stopped. Like that scientist who had some radiation named after him. He became a bunch of rag-doll limbs thrown into a wheelchair, hoping one day for a cure.
Hope. That was the thing about Eric. He wasn't the kinda of guy to quit. To consider euthanasia or any of that -- not that anyone would have blamed him. You see, he'd always seen the world as something beautiful, and he'd tried to reflect that in his drawings. Sunrises were never red or orange, they were amber or honey. The world was beautiful, so he'd stick around and watch it as long as he could.
Turned out to be a lot longer than he'd anticipated. Almost 150 years so far, and counting. Goes without saying he doesn't want to stick around no more.
Gee, I come off really pessimistic, I bet. You must be thinking: 'But Robbie, what about all the good things that can now last forever, like love.' And I want to say you're right. I want to tell you that I know of more than one couple, personally, that has stayed together all that time. But... People do get bored. Understandably. And that's the truth of it.
That couple? Well, that's Margret and Ted. They're kind of special. Eighty-eight and ninety, respectively -- or, they were that age when Death decided to take his vacation. What makes them special? I don't know. But I do know that every morning still, Ted gets up with the birds, and puts on the kettle. Brings a cup of tea with just a little milk, and a single sugar, up to his wife, so she can drink it in bed. See, she's not that well. Walking's difficult for her, and her memory, it's not what it once was. But she recognises Ted. Not so much the face, but the routine of him. The comfort of him. Of the tea. Of the game gin rummy they play on the bed until lunch, when he makes the sandwiches, with just a little cucumber. In the evenings, Ted helps her into a wheelchair and takes her out for some fresh air.
I asked him once, don't you get bored of this. Of this routine. Of the burden, I implied, but I didn't say as much. What I do say is, we're stuck here forever Ted. We're not getting to Heaven -- if it's even there. So why not enjoy being down here?
Ted looks at me and says, "But who would look after Margret?"
What he doesn't say, but I see it in his eyes, is that he's already in Heaven, and every day we're kept here, every day Death is missing, it's a miracle for him.
There. I managed to end this with a bit of positivity. Not sure I was expecting to, when I started thinking about Eric. But truth is, the world has changed, since Death quit. But there's still good and bad, and all shades of both between. That's life. Always has been. It's what you make of your time down here, no matter how long it is.
| 2019-01-30T05:33:31 | 2019-01-30T05:28:12 | 44 | 22 |
[WP] After your grandfather’s sudden death, you inherit his massive mansion. You find that the basement has been converted to a massive jail filled with various supernatural creatures. Except for one cell. In it there’s a weak looking simple man who begs you to let him out. | I held the lantern up, closer to my face, and squinted into the dark cell.
The man was old, with a scraggly beard that looked like it hadn't been combed for weeks. His skin was taut around his bones, with no muscle to show for it, save for his soft belly, which was shrunken and shriveled beneath his rib cage.
​
Neither of us exchanged words, just looking at each other through the dim glow of the lantern. All around us, various creatures snarled and hissed. Each cell seemed custom-made for its occupant. What I guessed was probably a ghost or banshee or some other type of spirit-like creature was locked behind a glass panel that lit up with glowing runes every time it threw its ethereal weight against the glass. A cell adorned with a variety of religious symbols and tokens held only a coffin, wrapped in chains. But this one? There didn't seem to be anything particularly supernatural or strange about this old man or his cell at all. Nonetheless, I was wary. My grandfather's last words echoed in my mind, *Be ever vigilant.*
​
"I've never seen you before," the old man startled me out of my thoughts.
"I've never seen you before, either." I replied. *Ever vigilant.* There must be a reason Grandfather locked him in here. He was not a man who did things lightly-- every word he spoke was labored and thoughtful, every action careful and considered. Even in his last days, he had been a man of gravitas and judgment. Vigilant.
"Have you come to taunt me? Or free me?"
Everything in this basement was something that defied reality, defied typical understanding. It was unlikely that this frail, old man would be any different. I approached the bars and began to examine them in the lantern light more closely, looking for clues. They appeared to be regular iron.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small pocket knife, flicking it open with one hand, since my other hand held the lantern. The old man visibly flinched when he saw it, and moved slightly further back into the darkness of the cell, eying me warily. I ignored him and began scraping at one of the bars slightly.
Iron flakes fell away from the bars, revealing only more iron underneath. So they weren't silver, or anything else exotic. Just regular, plain old iron.
I closed the pocket knife and moved my attention to the frame of the cell itself, examining its borders. I'm not sure what I was looking for-- some clue, some hint as to why he was here. Something that indicated who-- or what-- he was. But if such a clue existed, it wasn't on the borders of the cell frame.
"You look like him, you know," the old man said. I paused, and held my lantern closer to the bars. He was at the very back of the cell, where my lantern light couldn't quite reach. I could see his silhouette, and faintest outline of his face as he stared out at me. "The man who locked me in here. You have his eyes. You're related."
It wasn't a question, it was an accusation.
I knelt down to the floor, and began examining the ground. The spirit's cell had glowing runes that only activated when the creature touched it, maybe this was similar? The cell door was attached to a wheel that would allow it to open with relative ease, but the floor was covered in dust and dirt, with no wheel tracks to indicate that it had been opened recently.
"What do you eat?" I asked.
"Sometimes he would bring me scraps," the man answered quietly, "Leftovers, I think, from whatever he happened to be eating that night. But he would often forget, and I would go days without food, with only the water that leaked from a pipe above my cell to drink."
The gap between the door and the ground wasn't large enough for someone to fit through, but it was large enough that one could presumably hand in a tray or plate of food to its occupant.
"How long has he been dead?"
The question struck through me, like ice through my heart. I remained composed, though, doing my best not to betray any emotion in my expression.
"I can tell that he's dead. It's the way you move. Like you're grieving." the man seemed even more cloaked in darkness than before. I rose to my feet and held the lantern up again. Light washed over him, and he briefly held up a skinny, bone-thin arm to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness.
Must have been my imagination.
"Do you have more of a heart than he did?" the man whispered, his voice trembling. "Or are you as cruel, and as callous?"
Memories flashed through my mind. *Cruel* and *callous* were words that could describe Grandfather, certainly. Stern warnings and, when I was younger, beatings, defined a large part of my growing up experience with him. I lowered the lantern, lest the old man in the cage read my emotions on my face. Grandfather was cold and distant, but there was never any doubt in my mind that he had tried to do right. If this man was locked down here, there must be a reason.
"Please," the man said from his dark corner, "have mercy. Let me out. I have a daughter, close to your age..." his voice trailed off. "I miss her terribly."
I felt a tinge of guilt. As much as I searched, I couldn't find anything strange or unusual about the man's cell, save only for the fact that he was here.
Something banged against wood behind me, and I turned my attention to the cell with the coffin. It shook and rumbled, as something within its confines began to stir and struggle against the chains to lift the lid. I stepped up to the bars. In the lantern light, I could see dust falling from the lid as whatever was inside struggled to get out. After a few, tense moments, it settled down, and a low moan could be heard from within.
I turned back to the old man's cell, which was now completely dark since I'd stepped away. If Grandfather had locked him in here with these other creatures, there had to be a reason, even if I didn't know it right away.
"Please," his voice was desperate and sad. "This is wrong. I can see that you are a kind man. Moral. You can right his wrongs."
I stared at him. *Be ever vigilant.*
"I will bring you your food in an hour." I turned towards the basement's exit. I had much to consider.
​
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​
More stories at [Isaac's Stories.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Isaac_Stories/) | I clambered down the stairs as I heard the disturbing noises grow louder and louder from the main floor. The door was almost hidden in plain view but every time I started walking past it after I inherited this mansion I kept hearing these weird sounds. I love the paranormal and supernatural. I investigate on a regular basis so the idea of what could be going on down there was both frightening as hell and created a level of excitement I hadn't felt.
The stairway seemed to last forever. Always coming to a landing and turning to the right. There was probably 3 of these before hitting solid ground. It was dimly lit down here but enough to see what was going on. A small desk with a book and a lamp sat before a hallway. Looking at the book I sifted through the pages. Cell one, cannibal child dated back to 1897. Cell two, science experiment gone wrong - bone spurs. Cell three, crying apparition. The list went on but what I really noticed was as the cells continued on the creatures seemed to be more dangerous and had a bit more detail for each one. In cell 53 there was a zombie that had not decomposed yet and therefore exhibited what seemed to be super human strength and speed. Precautions made. It was also noted that most of these cells had a sort of metal curtain blocking any view.
In cell 71 there was a very strange name just named Iccy. The description, severe delusions, seemingly immortal, do not release under any circumstances. For some reason this particular cell caught my eye so I wanted to see. How old was the guys, what did he know, why was he so dangerous. I had to know answers. Why not start with some dangerous creatures right?
I walked down several corridors twisting, turning, almost feeling lost. There did not seem to be any discernible order to the cells which made it all the more confusing. Just very vague landmarks along the ceiling maybe every 35 to 45 feet.
Finally though, cell 71 sat before me. My palms sweaty, my breath short, my heart racing. I don't know if this was fear or excitement but I looked up and down the metal curtain looking for a way to open it. No handles, no sensors, just a phrase on a plaque. Sevre Lons Trinin was inscribed. I attempted a quite whisper and a loud pop scared the shit out of me. The curtain quickly shot up and all I saw was a man in a loin cloth type of thing. He was wrinkled, unshaven, pale, and incredibly frail. There were scars throughout his body as well. The dude looked like like hell might be a sweet release. It didn't take long before the man jumped up though. Burst of energy perhaps? Who knows but he ran to the window and shouted "LET ME OUT". I jumped back and just continued to look over him. "I MUST LEAVE, I MUST FULFILL MY DESTINY". Curious I asked in a quiet voice "What destiny".
"The sun will burn us alive. It will not stop and we will be lucky to die. This is not my first imprisonment and I was nearly left to fate of becoming a living leather hide. The horned beast kept me there and now the old beast keeps me here".
"So what do you plan to do to the sun?" The guy has to just be crazy right?
"I must tame it, destroy it if I have to. I have attempted but failed but failure is not an option. I have been here and I have learned how to overcome the obstacles I once faced."
"Oh? And how is that" I had no other response.
"You are not destined for this task so you do not need to know. I need to be released though. Please, break this barrier, open it, whatever you have to do."
I shook my head, "I don't know if I can do that though man. I've been given pretty clear instructions."
The old man slumped back in his cell. "I see then. All you know and all you love will die. I just wish to prevent this. The old beast...the old man wouldn't listen and I see this is being passed on." He then began crying. His back was exposed a bit more and there were several deeper far more noticeable scars.
"Will you be back?" I asked.
"No. At least I don't believe I will have the opportunity. I am not in danger to anyone else. I just have destiny to fulfill."
"It is said you are immortal though. Explain that old man". I was finding some guts to talk to this guy a bit more assertively.
"It true that I have been around for a long time. But I can die. Stories have been written, though kind of falsely so, they tell the basic tale but it revolves around what I have said already."
I looked around to the other cells. "So what happens if I open this cell. What happens to you and what happens to me?"
He smiled. "I just leave. That is all. I don't know what you have really been told about me but I just leave and pursue what I was meant to do"
He seemed genuine, but this was so new and so sudden. Instructions were clear, but no explanation really besides a brief description. He's an old man....what could he do after all.
"Give me a day to think about it. I will be back tomorrow." And before a response could be made, I left.
The next day came and I had given it some thought over a few drinks, and philosophical conversations with people online and in person. No answers from all of that...go figure. So what the hell right? I headed to the basement but the door was open. Did I close it? I thought so but after leaving the cell I was kind of in a haze. I walked down the stairs again. Was it 3 or 4 or 5 landings? I don't remember.
I walked up to the book again and it was closed. Did I close it? Jesus man get it together.
I followed the way back to cell 71 and there was nothing there. The metal curtain was up and I went ghost white. There was noone in there except a small hole and written in what may have been blood or shit the word DESTINY. I ran as quickly as I could back to the main floor all while yelling out "HEY OLD MAN". I ran up the stairs, probably skipping 3 at a time until I was at the main floor. I looked around and the front door was open. I cautiously made my way to the door and nothing. I received a multitude of notifications on my phone, texts, news, etc. Check the news dude was essentially what the texts said. The news talked killings about a mile away, no wait now reports of a mile and a half, two miles. People were getting skinned and animals were getting mutilated. Wait...not just animals....birds.
"We have footage of the man, please be aware what you are about to see is disturbing". This was the first thing said on the TV. To my horror it was the old man. Agility that was inhuman. And everything he did was so quickly. He was running through town to kind of a hilly area outside. Likely to hide.
Nobody could get close to this guy though. As soon as he hit the hills he disappeared. Nothing was found. No blood, no left over bodies...nothing. It wasn't until maybe an hour later when there were so many videos seeing a figure flying. Only a few of the closer cameras caught was they thought he was saying.
"I AM ICARUS. THE SUN MUST BE DESTROYED." It didn't take long before the sight of the man was gone. What the fuck did I do. | 2019-05-22T08:02:56 | 2019-05-22T06:38:57 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] You’re an actual wizard pretending to be a magician on a Vegas stage. A video was just released that “explains” how you do all your tricks. It’s all wrong, but your popularity drops. Now you need to do a trick that’s unexplainable, but not so unexplainable that people realize it’s real magic. | "Not real magic." Squinting at his phone Quinn, Master of illusion AKA The Grand Mage Master Warlock Keeper of the Secrets Never Been Defeated in Combat Quinn was reading his Twitter feed. "Not real magic?" "That dissapoints them? I thought they only liked fake magic."
"Well it turns out Millenials expect the real deal. It's part of this whole demographic shift. The youth is where the money is and the youth only tolerates real fake magic." Gretchen, Master of Social Media AKA Quinn's publicist said.
"Well I can just give them real magic then right?" said Quinn.
"If you can do real magic that would be great, but until then I'll hire some consultants and we will work out a new trick or two to really win them over." said Gretchen.
"No I got this."
A booming voice announced "AAAAAAND HEEEAAAAARS QUIN, MASTER OF ILLUSIONS" a drum roll thrumbing.
"Ladies and Gentlemen there's a change of plans. Tonight I'm going to show you some real magic!" Quinn announced to the audience to laughs. "I'm going to need a volunteer whose willing to die." again more laughs and a man raised his hand.
"Come on up sir! Now you see this knife?" said Quinn to the man who's look of joy started to slip into a puzzled look of fear. Quinn with the speed of a combat warlock plunged the knife into the audience members heart. Screams reverberated through the building. "Hold on there everyone he is perfectly fine!" Quinn shouted over the obviously dead man's corpse.
Quinn started to gaze up at the sky screaming in strange tounges rising into the air the wind swirling around him.
"Why didn't we just go to the circus Mommy!?!" a girl screamed from the audience.
Dark shapes began moving amongst the crowd of people dead things with no eyes. People formed huddles to protect themselves from the spirits, but they passed right through them. One of the spirits took a more solid shape and started to approach the corpse and climb inside. The nightmare abruptly stopped and Quinn sank back onto the floor. He still had it. Quinn smiled to himself.
"Holy fucking shit" Gretchen mouthed from the side of the stage wide eyed in shock.
"Nailed it" Quinn mouthed back giving a thumbs up and a grin.
The resurrected man sat on the floor in his own blood with a dazed look on his face. | The fans were all well aware of the intensity of my tricks. Each trick will always cause uproars and astonished looks from the audience. It’s as if nothing I do can’t make them view in awe. I’ve been using complicated tools such as enchanted swords, pyrokinesis, and even some animals involved. The audience loved every bit of it. It didn’t seem like a long night but there was a lot done. My big finale was a fabulous pose that I had to use a bone switching chant and I briefly caused a clearly visible and colorful aura that even some grown men felt like children amazed at some neat cartoon. My pose was even a treat to a couple of audience members who were fans of a certain anime. Then the trick ended with my going back to a standing position with no harm done. Cheers were all I heard after.
My performance was a like-able one.
Maybe it was my perception, but it didn’t feel like a couple days when ‘that’ video appeared. Titled,"The Assumed Authentic Aldrin", it was a forty minute documentary of this annoyingly bald man apparently 'debunking' every single trick I’ve performed on the Vegas stage. Small torches for my pyrokinesis, Animatronics for my animals, and the one that really gave me a headache, 'Fake body parts' for my fabulous pose finale. Unfortunately, SOMEONE couldn’t just enjoy a good show and had to put me down in a pit of shame. That one stupid video made people stop admiring me and when I went out in public, I’d received disappointing and upset looks from everyone. They called me a fraud. After some time, I realized I didn’t like this negativity. So just from being a petty wizard, I decided to hold one more performance, and not even on a stage. It’s going to be in the most crowded street in Vegas. I put posters everywhere for this seemingly hyped event. I was already set up on that street. I made sure it was a starry night.
"Lovely evening everyone! I’m Aldrin the Wizard, which I’m sure you all know! Im performing one single trick guaranteed to make you experience the youth of a child learning the 'Magic' of magic.” Simple talk. I bring out two gallon containers. One filled with water, and the other gasoline. My big trick was to mix these two liquids. I’ve already proven they ARE indeed the liquids I’ve claimed. A watching scientist came up and confirmed the 2. Now that they’re all watching, I’ve used a floating spell to make the liquids float out the containers, and moved them with simple hand movements. This already caused awed faces. But then they really riled up when I’ve made the 2 mix together, very clearly into one color. The scientist, and almost everyone could not believe this was happening. It was common knowledge water and gasoline CANNOT mix. "Not scientifically possible!" I’ve heard them say. Oh but I wasn’t even done. I’ve been making the liquid float, and now I’ve caused the gasoline to separate from the water, making the liquids splash a bit on the people. I put back the water in its container. The second part was the best one. I drenched myself in all the gasoline, then lit myself on fire. Needless to say, people were jaw dropped. Some screams were like echoing cheers, and some just...well screams. Using most of my magic, I burned to ash. After a few moments. Those ashes disappeared and formed regular old me again. A big question that was in my head after all that....Did anyone record that? | 2019-09-02T23:24:30 | 2019-09-02T20:32:53 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | Secretary Rosen sat contemplating silently while the Roni Ambassador dictated to him the terms of peace that Humanity was expected to accept following their defeat in battle yesterday.
Intergalactic Warfare wasn't so different from that practiced on Earth for millennia. They fought just as ferociously as soldiers sailors and airmen had fought in the innumerable wars humanity had subjected itself to during it's brief existence as a sentient species. There was one difference however. War had stopped being politics by other means for the most part on Earth. It was obviously still the way of it out here.
The Roni Ambasador had stopped speaking and was pointing at a treaty. "You must sign here, Mr. Secretary."
Finally Rosen stood up from his chair, straightened his suit, and began to speak. "Forgive me Ambassador, but allow me to clarify a few things. Firstly, the battle yesterday was a surprise attack, completely unwarranted and unjustified. We were at peace. Now we are at war."
"We have defeated you, you are now surrendering."
"Oh, you defeated that fleet it's true. But you will find once your forces are debriefed that it wasn't such an overwhelming defeat, despite you attacking us by surprise with a fleet five times the size of our own."
The Ambassador was puzzled. This was not how surrender ceremonies were supposed to go.
Rosen continued. "You see Ambassador, if you would do me a favor and look outside my window. What do you see."
"I see the newest addition to the Roni Empire."
"Ah, but you're still not understanding. I see a planet of my fellow humans who are girding themselves for war. You have broken the peace we had, you have attacked without warning and you did so callously, in the belief that just because the rest of the galaxy fights with kid gloves we will too."
"What are kid gloves, I do not know this expression."
"Kid gloves, Ambassador, are what we're now taking off." Rosen reached down to his desk and pressed the intercom button. "Admiral, you may proceed with the mission. As of now, Ambassador, any Roni we find is dead. Any settlement we find is dead. Any fleet we find is dead. Bring this back to your leadership. While you can. We tried to deal with you fairly and you took advantage. We tried to negotiate when things got out of hand and you took advantage. Well no more. Humanity is not your punching bag."
"This is absurd. We have beaten you, your world is ours."
"Is everyone in your government as slow as you. We do not fight one battle and call it a war, as you apparently do. We sometimes fight to a stalemate. You killed 10,000 humans yesterday. At a cost of 40,000 of your own. This building alone has more humans than that. You have beaten nothing. Nothing except yourselves. Please turn your attention to the view screen."
The view screens, which were displaying prominent Roni landmarks as a sign of supplication and respect, or so the Ambassador had thought, suddenly flashed white. The shipyards of Kontak. The weapons factories of Girt. The great city of Ron. All contact lost, seemingly obliterated.
"How...what..."
"That was just the beginning. We have a saying. If you want peace prepare for war. We wanted peace, we tried peace your way, and you still could not contain yourselves. So we will contain you. You have exactly 2 minutes to get out of my sight, and a further 28 to get off my planet. If you are still lingering in that time, your worthless life is forfeit." | "Sir the Gord'ush home planet has stopped broadcasting" a low ranking insect like creature said while running into the war minister's chamber.
"So what? They probably got caught in a storm or something" The fat slug responded dismissively. "Have a recon ship go past it to check out the weather"
The insect walked away and all was silent for a few minutes until the transmission came to the chamber.
"Uh sir. There is no storm, in fact the planet has been is a barren waste, barely still held together by gravity" And he wasn't exaggerating the world was reduced to nothing more than a handful of rocks and lava.
"There must have been some kind of cosmic event" The slug continued without a care in the world. "But I'll summon the rest of the cabinet to figure out what press release we will offer. Thank you."
You see, much like the appointees during the soviet era on Earth those in positions of power were less knowledgeable about that specific area and moreso were an important figure in their own species. Some representatives were robotic, others insect like, some even were various clusters.
Then the humans, weak and incapable. Only a few thousand years ago they figured out how to join the rest of the union. Instead of a single delegate they send a group. Not really in a hivemind kind of way, just a group of them who will even argue amongst themselves in various languages that don't make sense. They are a relatively small but spread out population, some nonsense about this 'colonialism' thing. They send a handful of people to various planets and eventually have enough there to make it work. Stupid but to each their own.
​
At least that is what we all thought before the meeting. In marched a handful of them. four with their silly 'camouflage' that really doesn't work and one who looks like one of those 'roman' statues they bring to cultural events. That one has a few crude implants, a bionic eye is the most obvious.
​
"This must be an act of war." The Gord'ush representative said. They are still around in great number, their 'home world' is named that purely because it is the one they originated from. "Which one of you attacked us?" He said while banging on the table. There was denial going around the room until the 'roman' spoke up.
"It was us" the room started roaring in laughter. The humans don't declare war, this is one of those 'ice breakers' they are so fond of to try and 'lighten the mood'. You see they never go to war, even their petty squabbles are barely noteworthy off the planet they occur on.
His voice was drowned out and the translators couldn't pick up the rest of what was said. The other four stood there with their guns and other things which they seem to carry as 'tradition' they've never been fired, in fact we don't even think they work.
Worth noting is that the delegations each speak in order here. This is done entirely to keep order and was done to appease the weaker species or those who don't have distinct speech so they can write their messages without being ignored. These things can have an earth hour or more before someone gets another turn to talk. This is done largely for the live broadcast along the galaxy so those with slower systems can catch up (can you imagine waiting even a single second though?)
The conversation continued with general denials and some mentioning that they didn't feel any kind of cosmic storm in the area.
And once again the one spoke while the others stood there when it was the humans' turn again. Occasionally they take turns and argue but this time was different.
"I am going to play a video showing the last moment's of that planet" he said. A fleet of ships jumped in and immediately destroyed it. Clearly human in nature. Once again the room burst into laughter. A bold play but even the Gord'ush representative seemed to laugh at the absurdity. This is why they are the master negotiators. They doctored up some kind of film while waiting for their turn, the creative bunch that they are.
And again the room discussed what happened without paying them any mind.
The last thing that any of those in attendance heard was the human again. Visibly agitated he grabbed one of the guns from one of the others in his delegation and shot the slug. "I am an inquisitor in service to the God Emperor. This is a declaration that the galaxy will burn as we purge all xenos" he said as the entire world was blown completely in half.
​
From that day on the galaxy has never known a single day of peace.
​
<The last entry of the last Gord'ush in the year 39,801> | 2019-11-24T14:03:48 | 2019-11-24T11:02:03 | 572 | 184 |
[WP] You, a villain, heart set on taking over the world, kidnapped the hero’s sidekick. You find out that you are treating them much better than the hero was and decide to take them under your wing. | ***WARK WARK WARK WARK***
Damien Pentacle Horriblis, better known to the world as Doctor Horrible, cursed under his breath as he hurried down the secret corridor towards Lab Number Six. Of all the blasted times for the Uncarnation Engine to go into a meltdown, he still hadn't even managed to finish recording the ransom demand yet.
He made a sharp gesture, and the panel at the end of the cramped space slid open just in time for him to come barreling through, quickly ducking as several bolts of lightning shot passed over head. Blast, it was already discharging, he'd have to be quick about this.
He startled when he realized that he was not actually alone in the room, despite what the disaster-preparedness manual clearly stated. A figure stood in front of the Engine, trembling slightly, a fancy technological collar beeping around their neck.
"What the devil do you think you're doing?! Get away from there, it's dangerous!" He bellowed, even as he vaulted over the railing along the catwalk and dropped down to the lower level of the lab.
Whizzdoll, sidekick to Magnificus, spun around at the sound of his voice, her face wide-eyed with fear. "I-I..."
He didn't take the time to hear whatever her stammering would reveal, instead pushing her back with another wave of his hand, a faint bubble appearing around her. It wouldn't stand up to any of the larger discharges, but she was back by some of the spare Booster Rods, which should attract most of the bolts.
In the end, he managed to get things fixed before anything important got shunted into Unspace. As he thought, Padrico had once again sold him some substandard focal gems, those these ones had been doctored in a new way that actually gave him a couple of ideas for a few new experiments. Regardless, he stomped out, a few gestures mending the singed or missing portions of his outfit, to find that the girl was still standing exactly where he'd pushed her over to. Strange, he'd have expected her to have slipped away in the chaos.
"Honestly, what were you hoping to accomplish here?" He barked.
"I... I thought maybe I could shut it down..." her shivering seemed to intensify under his direct scrutiny.
"Shut it down? How would you possibly have done that? I'm not in the habit of installing convenient off-switches into my devices. Honestly, the next time something like this happens, just tap the green button on your collar, you'll be transported somewhere that EVELYN deems to be safe."
He wasn't quite certain what to make of her expression, but he had bigger issues to deal with. Namely, figuring a suitably memorable punishment for Padrico, one that would hopefully stick this time. If he wasn't such a good smuggler...
===
Doctor Horrible was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Whizzdoll had absolutely no sense for self-preservation. Any evil genius' lair featured numerous hazards as a matter of course, some planned, many more not, and for whatever reason, she seemed determined to charge headlong into all of them. He'd had to up the sensitivity on her collar twice to account for new ways she found of putting herself in danger, but at least it was giving EVELYN's hazard prediction routines a workout, to manage to teleport her out of danger before she went and got herself killed. She hadn't managed that with the Engine thanks to the discharges causing interference.
The frustrating thing was that none of the dangers seemed to be based around foiling his plans or actually escaping. Instead, it was all about charging headlong into danger to save someone else. No matter that the person she was trying to aid was four times her size and wrapped in protective armor that could allow them to go toe-to-toe with the escaping eel-gator-grizzly hybrid. Never mind that, she'd dive in, trying to distract its heads and get them to fight against each other. A clever strategy, but so needlessly dangerous to her health. He had honestly considered getting her some sort of weapon, just so she wouldn't keep charging in bare-handed. He could tie it into the collar and EVELYN could disable it if she tried to turn it against anyone...
He let out another sigh as he checked on his captive, who was currently sitting on a chair off to the side while watching him work. Many evil scientists would lock their captives up in a cell, but the main issue was that making any cell truly impenetrable required a great deal of dedicated space and equipment, and would still give any would-be captives room to maneuver and possibly to fortify themselves, turning the defenses keeping them in into barricades keeping others out. It was much, much simpler to simply design a collar that could teleport a captive back if they tried to run, or freeze them in stasis if they tried to attack someone or tamper with it. With that, any room could be a decent cell, just by defining a boundary they couldn't cross, but he had found that captives were much less focused on trying to escape if they weren't so narrowly confined.
Thus, he generally gave them the run of the lair. They were monitored, of course, to prevent them from doing any sort of sabotage or effecting an escape attempt, but most of them would end up just trying to snoop around, giving him plenty of opportunities to spread misinformation or just throw the heroes a bone to distract them while he got some real work done. Truly a win/win.
***BWAN BWAN BWAN BWAN***
Doctor Horrible barely had a chance to glance up at the 'incombing ballistic' alarm before the ceiling above him suddenly exploded. | *Note first prompt pls no rage on bad "x" thing*
Standing on the roof of skyscraper; you're just a few minutes away from unleashing the most powerful, the most incredible monstrosity upon the world and finally claim it as your own.
/You hear sound coming beneath you followed by the ground starting to tremble/
Suddenly coming from beneath floor appears the so-called "Number 1 Hero"... Bob and his sidekick... "Fantistic Juan" wait hang on I think he is "Fantistic Juan...the..uhh..fourth...no maybe fith... aaah who cares he is just the sidekick anyway" you think to yourself.
As your ultimate weapon has been charging and now with only seconds to spare; you try and hold off Bob and his sidekick Juan but with just a momentary lapse of focus Juan managed to land a critical blow which damaged a crucial component triggering the self-destruct sequence (which was initially added to prevent the hero organization from screwing you over again). "You fool!" you shout at Juan "Do you have any idea how long it took to perfect and build that? ... Parts are fricken expensive and hard to come by man; couldn't you have literally just stood there or even hit one of the cheaper components is that too much to ask for.."
With the ultimate weapon about to implode upon itself; Bob punches you with little restraint causing you stagger backwards. "This is the last time you'll ever try something like this again Garathor" Bob yells as he blasts you off the roof with his seemingly overpowered energy-blast.
You start falling off the roof to what seems to be a nice hard concrete bed of DEATH. As you decide that is not really to your liking you open a dimensional-rift a couple of feet below you. Moments before you fall into the rift... it dawns on you - you can make Bob regret stopping you for the last and final time ever(you think atleast).
You realize the "Not So Fantastic Juan.. after he broke your ultimate weapon" is standing over the edge watching you fall. You use your pre-owned mind-grasp device that you got on sale at the local VillianMart ( which channels your willpower and intelligence which allows the user to inhibit telekentic powers for a short duration ) to grab Juan off the roof and through the rift with you.
/You both slam into your secret cave with a thub and a couple of groans later/
Juan looks at you and states "I will stop you Garathor, just wait until Bob gets ...he..re.." He vomits and you laugh maniacally "I see the inter-dimensional travel sickness has got you good huh?" He continues to hurl as you chain him preventing him from resisting and continuing your monologue about how truly amazing you are and how they are not ..blah blah blah yada yada yada some other important things and the monologue ends.
"So sidekick tell me exactly what I want to know otherwise this could get real painful, real quick" you notice that all the spunk and confident demeanor has disappeared leaving behind an appearance akin to that of a stray, abused dog.
"WHATS THE MATTER NOW? I JUST CAN'T GET A BREAK CAN I, FIRST YOU BREAK THE FRICKEN EXPENSIVE MACHINE AND NOW YOU START SULKING WHAT IS UP WITH YOU... UGGHHH" You yell as you pace up and down. While enraged you notice the uniform Juan is wearing seems identical to his predecessors; upon furthed inspection you start to notice scarring and scar tissue over his body.
You calm yourself, sit down next to him and ask "Now look here sidekick even though we don't always see eye to eye, heck we never see eye to eye. Whats up with this uniform it looks as old as the first Fantastic Juans', also whats up with all the scars?".
Juan begins to break down crying; just moments ago before your master plan was thwarted there was this energetic and lively sidekick; now all thats left is a husk of his former self that's emitting beaten, broken and hopeless aura.
"Geez just answer the questiosn will you" you state even though your concern is growing. Juan starts speaking "You know what? My name isn't even Juan not even remotely close my real name is Eric. And yes this is that exact uniform from all the previous Juans as for the scars; whenever Bob loses a fight or wants to train guess who is used as a personal punching bag because I'm "just a sidekick". What do you think happened to my predecessors?... you know what ignore everything and just end it here I dont care anymore" Eric closes his eyes and it seems as though he is awaiting something.
You unclip his shackles and tell him to follow you; as Eric follows you through this ever-shifting dimension of yours you start talking to him "You know Eric I have fought many-a Juans over the years but I never knew what happened to them but now it all comes together. When I was younger my father used to beat me just for the sake of "building character" he said after each beating. So I know the rage, resentment and hate boiling from within you and all I can say is... USE THAT AS FUEL, USE THAT TO DRIVE YOU, USE THAT TO BECOME SO POWERFUL NO ONE WILL DARE LAY SO MUCH AS A FINGER ON YOU WITHOUT YOUR PERMISSION..."
/You notice a faint smile on his face and the return of life within his eyes as you walk.../
/As you reach your destination you tell Eric that there are appropriately sized clothes within the room and that he should take a shower and get changed into the clothes/
Eric comes out after a while with a huge grin on his face; "What?" you ask - Eric responds "No one has ever treated me so kindly before or even treated me as another human before; you know I am actually 16 right?". It dawns on you, for these mere moments you were helping this boy; you were more of a hero to him than the so-called "Number 1 Hero".
"You know if you want you can stay here, you can have that room. We might be a little broken but I think two broken might just make one whole person... or one worse person but lets focus on the positive" you ask the kid. The boy is overjoyed and jumps onto you squeezing and hugging you well stating "Are you sure? You aren't joking right? A room just for myself? You know I've always had to sleep in the living room in the couch or on the mats in the exercise room.."
"Geez, alright kid and yes to all of the above would you just get off me.. We need to go grab some dinner"
/You and your newly "adopted" to-be villiabous-sidekick head off to enjoy a meal in what the kid will realize is the dimension which all villains reside within/ | 2020-03-26T17:09:25 | 2020-03-26T17:01:36 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] You, a villain, heart set on taking over the world, kidnapped the hero’s sidekick. You find out that you are treating them much better than the hero was and decide to take them under your wing. | &#x200B;
"I believe in you young man!" Captain Mirage shouted from the right. "You're the tip of the spear Rider!" Crimson Fury yelled on his left. *This is my chance! To prove I can be more than just a sidekick!* Red Rider thought to himself. The Veil's men panicked and ran at the sight of the forces of good, as the two super heroes and the trainee charged on. Red Rider running at speeds faster then the best athletes. On to the factory, where Black Veil and her allies thought they were safe.
Her Night Guard agents killed hundreds in the New Town subway bombing. Master thief, terrorist, criminal, and murderer. She herself was personally responsible for the death of the hero Razor's Edge. Now it was time for her movement and it's supporters to come to an end.
Two soldiers attempted to stand their ground and took aim at the trio, but Rider crashed into the pair before they could fire. One crashed to the ground out cold, while the other attempted to land a blow. Rider paired, and broke his arm with a crack, before knocking him out with a punch to the head.
"Nice job kid! Into the factory!" The captain cried. Rider nodded and charged. In front of him lay a three story complex, and a row of loading dock style doors. Black Veil's Night Guard soldiers ran every which way away from Crimson Fury and his fireballs. There was no time to worry about them now, he only had to worry about their boss. He had trained for this, he was ready.
"Right behind you kid." With Captain Mirage at his back, he could do anything. With the fire and fury of all that is just and good, Rider kicked open the door into the dimly lit factory, and charged into the darkness. "I have you now Black Veil! Come out and surrender!"
"How about no?" Came a distant, almost recording like response. The world lit up around him.
"Huh, an electric net. Didn't expect that." The captain said solemnly, right before he and Crimson Fury melted away into nothing. Red Rider was at a loss for words, and out of time. The electricity arced around him before what appeared to be a bolt of lighting hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him to his knees. Something tickled his nose. The air seemed to have an abnormal taste, and his vision went black.
\*\*\*
Black Veil eyed the youth, tied to a chair in front of her in her dimly lit underground command center. Couldn't be more than sixteen. She'd read the reports of the Alliance Academy's trainees and their abilities, but had yet to actually see one up close, let alone capture one. The gas would wear off soon, and then she would have to figure out what to do with him.
Her eyes turned to the tall man to her right. Late 50s, Major Grimm commanded attention with his eye patch, and Night Guard commander uniform. He'd been at her side from the beginning, and lost an eye for her when she parted ways with the Paragon Alliance.
"Major, where is Mirage and the hot head, Fury something? You told me we had them."
"It appeared we did, ma'am, but I don't think they were actually there. The *captain's* illusions, it looks like. When we went to secure the prisoners, the only one there was him."
"You're telling me that they sent this boy in on his own?"
"It looks that way ma'am."
"No". He grumbled, coming back to consciousness. "The Captain will come... The Alliance will come for me... You'll pay."
Veil sighed, and sat down in her own chair, tired of it all. "They aren't coming for you, kid. You've been used."
"That's not true!" He shouted, this time awake and fully aware of his situation.
"Kid, Captain Mirage didn't know about our taser net before you ran into it, and now he does. He needed someone to trip the sensor and set off the trap. That was you."
The kid started to protest, but she cut him off. "You're lucky, really, that no permanent harm came to any of the guards." "How long did the doc say Sergeant Fisher will be down?"
"Two weeks at the most ma'am. That biogell the lab whipped up should mend his arm fully by then." Major Grimm responded dutifully.
"That's not right. Crimson Fury. He was firing off fury bolts. He was right behind me and..." He trailed off.
"Kid, how old are you?" Black Veil asked.
"I'll be sixteen in three months."
*He should be in school. Learning high school life lessons. Not siting in front of me, tied to a chair.* Black Veil thought. "Where are your parents?"
She could see the anger rising up in him. "I don't know. I haven't seen them since I was ten, when I left for Paragon Academy. They use to write to me, but... I shouldn't be telling you this. You'd hunt them down and use them against me." The Major failed to stifle a laugh and Black Veil smiled. "You think kidnapping my parents is funny?" The teenager demanded.
"Is that what they told you? That I would kidnap your parents? That I would torture them to make you talk?" She was laughing now, she couldn't help it. "You must think I'm a monster."
"You're not going to torture me and kill me?" He asked, clearly confused.
"Kill you? No of course not! All I wanted was to be left alone. The Alliance seems to want to make that impossible now that I left their little gang. Attacking my agents. Blaming my Night Guard and me for terrorist attacks. And now, apparently, sending kids on suicide missions to test my defenses."
"But. The Paragon Alliance defends all that is good in the world. Hunts down evil doers. You're a villain, right? You couldn't have been a member."
"I was once.. I thought I was doing something good in the world, and protecting those I loved. And then I found out they were corrupt to the core. Framing and villainizing anyone who stood up to them. So I left. Took a bunch of their files with me as well. Thomas Grimm here lost an eye helping me escape. I promise you I'm not the monster they told you I was."
The boy was silent for a while, trying to process all he had just heard. "If you aren't going to kill me, what happens now?"
That was the most important question he had asked all day. "Well, unfortunately I can't let you leave just yet, now that you've seen the inside of my lair, as it were. Knowing the Alliance, they're likely already working on a story of how I'm turning you evil."
She got up, and in a move that surprised Red Rider, cut the rope holding him down to his chair. "Might as well get you a room, and some food, Since you will be staying for a while. I'd ask you not to run off, but there really isn't any where to run to under ground. Come, let me show you around." | I had finally acquired the Golden Band of Sight, a device which allowed you to see how your attack would move/land so that you would always hit your shot, whether it was a sniper shot from 2 miles or away, a definite sword swipe, whatever it was I could land my shot.
But, of course, it was never that simple. Because the Sapphire Knight and his sidekick the Ruby Mage had to come and step in! I mean, seriously! It’s like they have a tracker on me or something because no matter how stealthy I was, no matter how many precautions I took they still found me! Granted, in hindsight, I’m not so sure how stealthy a man in a glowing emerald green high-tech samurai can be...
“I WON’T LET YOU ESCAPE, VILLAIN!” The Sapphire Knight shouted, welding his magical Sapphire Blade, he shot a blast of cyan water from the blade’s tip. I just barely managed to evade the attack. “Ruby-! Use your Ruby Leaf Trap-! Now-!” The Knight harshly ordered his sidekick. “Oh, okay-!” The young woman summoned a bunch of ruby colored leaves in the form of a cage to try and trap me like I was a mouse, but I had broken out many times before, so I’m not so sure why he would have her do that again...As the leaves surrounded me I drew my trusty magic ninjaken and used one of my most powerful attacks: “Emerald Blade!” As I slashed the leafy cage a trail of green fire followed the blades path slashing it open effortlessly.
As I leaped out of the cage, I pressed a button on the small screen on the left arm of my suit. A portal opened in front of me, which I could use to teleport back to base! The two heroes leaped forward and as the Mage missed an attack, the Knight looked angrily at her for half a second before he used his ultimate move: “HYDRO BOMB!” I had survived this attack before, I could do it again...
As the blast of water shot out in all directions like a nuclear bomb, the Ruby Mage was hit first and flung in my direction. A thought then raced through my mind-! *What if...I capture her-? The Sapphire Knight would be unable to stop me without her-!* So, I did something I never thought I would after society forced me to be a Villain- I reached out and grabbed the Mage, saving her from the blast as we both fell through the portal. The portal closed behind us moments before the attack hit us.
The Ruby Mage groined, as she struggled to get up. She didn’t look happy, that’s for sure. “What are you...planning to do to me...?” She asked meekly. “Why did you capture me...?” “We both know that you wouldn’t have survived that blast head on, despite you resisting water attacks...” Ruby Mage hung her head low...she knew I was right...
“I won’t hurt you, I just need to keep you here until that Sapphire Knight bends over bawling to have you released.” The hero then fell unconscious, putting too much strain on herself, defiant to the last second... While inside my base I could travel anywhere with minimal effort, so I picked up the hero, who might I add, is ludicrously hot, and teleported to the medical sector of my base.
Once I arrived, I set her inside a medical pod which examined and treated her wounds. I noticed that on her body were numerous cuts, *cuts infused with water magic...*
I had a dreadful feeling of who caused them, but, one feature of the medical pod was that it could tell who gave someone their injuries, more specifically, what weapon they used. If it was a magic weapon, it would pick up on the weapon’s signature and notify it immediately. Being injured so many times by that cursed Knight and his Sapphire Blade meant that I had plenty of time to memorize that signature. So, it only made it worse when I found out that the cuts on her body, 24 in total, hidden underneath her costume...*they were all from that Sapphire Blade...*
The Knight clearly didn’t care about her. These injuries looked far too, intentional to be a coincidence. What was worse was that, they had failed to capture me, exactly 24 times. He had punished her with a swift slash of his blade everytime she failed to capture me...
She woke up hours later, her scars fully healed, feeling better than she had felt in months... the pod opened, allowing her to step out freely. The mage was confused, the lab was small and white in color, which meant that my green, black, and gold outfit stood out even more than normal. “Where am I?!” She asked immediately. “We’re in my medical facility. I assure you, I never hurt you, *I healed you*. I know this seems rude of me...but I’m sorry about what he did to you...” The Ruby Hero didn’t know how to react, this seemingly heartless megalomaniac, seemed to genuinely care about her, but why?
“Why do you want to help me? You said it yourself earlier, you’re using me as a hostage. Besides, a megalomaniac like you wouldn’t have a heart!” I always got very offended when people said that, if only they knew the truth...
I had always tried to help people, in fact, I was doing heroic deeds before the Sapphire Knight was-! Yet, it all went downhill when I was accused of a murder, and considering how I didn’t have ideals that the government truly approved of and that I was popular, I was deemed a Villain.
“My goal of conquest isn’t to make people suffer, it is the opposite, it is to end the 3 decade recession worldwide, remove the tyrants on top so that the people could freely express themselves! Make it so that a child no longer has to be alone in a dark alleyway, crying for a chance to be free, knowing in the back of their mind that it would never come...” “The government provides us with food and shelter! It makes sure that there is no poverty!” “Well, when everyone is poor, nobody is...Open your eyes, Ruby Mage. You’re a smart and talented person...and you wish to help the people, right?” She nodded hesitant, thinking I was going to use this against her. “Well then, why not use your talents to actually help the people...?” I offered her my hand.
She stood back, in her mind it was everything the government had trained her to believe, that I was a megalomaniac. “Let me show you what I mean, will you at least do that?” “...Fine...”
I then showed her what had been happening around the world. I wasn’t lying when I told her all those things, no sir or ma’am. It was true. All of it. In many countries people couldn’t afford to eat real food, in others, they had to praise the country they lived in or be suppressed...like I did.
After seeing the news stories and headlines...she was horrified, yet, something deep down told her this was true. She knew she had to stop it...
“So, will you help me take out these tyrants and maybe get back at that Sapphire Knight...Amalia?” The mage was surprised that I knew her name, but I knew her the entire time, that was why I felt more obligated than before to show her the truth.
“Yes, Boss.” “Don’t call me that when we’re in private, okay? Just call me Genji.” “Genji...the boy in my high school class...?” I nodded to her. “But...you died...” “That’s what they wanted you to believe...”
“Alright Genji, let’s go save the world...lead the way-!” “Right, let’s do this-! But first I have a special treat for that Sapphire Knight...” I quickly ran to a hidden vault inside my special armory, and opened the door, inside was an electric coated sniper rifle, with the word ‘Thunderclap’ painted on the side.
“Alright, *now* we save the world!” | 2020-03-26T17:58:34 | 2020-03-26T17:29:48 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] Your name, age, height, weight, and race all flash across the T.V. screen. You look in horror as you see your dead body being dragged out of a river as a reporter announces that you've been brutally murdered by an infamous serial killer who has been on the run for years. | "31 year old Harry Dentris, died in an unfortunate car crash. Thankfully, he died a swift and painless death." The news reporter announced.
"WHAT!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "I can't believe this, am I even alive right now?" I said. But alas, my curiosity took over and so I continued watching. "They even got my personal info correct, MY PERSONAL INFO!" I thought to myself as I question my very existence.
My friend, Jim, who was staying with me said, "Dude! The news said you died!". "I know!" I replied. "We should contact the police!". And so we went to the nearest police station, all the while getting weird looks from people.
When the policewoman at the counter saw us, she almost fainted. "Uh, excuse me ma'am, but the news said that my friend, Harry was dead!" Jim told her. "Don't worry, we will look into the matter" she told us. Relieved, we returned home.
However after many months, nothing has come out of the investigation. Thus, Jim and I decided that we would start our own. We interviewed, searched the web, tried gathering evidence but it was no use. We weren't getting anywhere.
Just as we lost all hope, the same policewoman called. "Hello sir? We have made a discovery which is of the utmost importance." We rushed to the police station as fast as we could. When we arrived, she directed us into a room. Inside was the head investigator on this matter.
He showed us the screen of his laptop, where there is a bit of text. "After many months of discussion and thorough testing, we have all agreed that this text is genuine." He said. The text read:
"We have kidnapped Harry Dentris (21 years old) and used his DNA to create Clone Alpha. Everything is well, until one night when Harry disappeared. Thankfully, we have wiped his memory of this place the day before and put him in stasis. This operation shall remain a secret.
- 2010"
End.
I hoped you enjoyed it, this is my second prompt so I'm still not really good at writing. | The news knocked me on my a**. I couldent keep the shock from crossing my face, like it mattered. Sam dident even know I was in the room watching the news with her. I just wanted to reach out and hold her. Instantly the thought drew tears from my eyes, I’d never hold her again. Frantically my mind searched for the last memory I had of touching her but everything was fuzzy. I... I couldent remember. Did we argue ... or did we make love. For just a second it became clear to me that my memory was being erased from point of death to point of birth. I gotta hold on, I gotta... slowly I turned from the TV and attempted to retrace my steps as if it would trigger a memory. But now there was nothing. My brain began to tingle, the feeling of peace settled down over my whole body as the world dimmed to black. It felt as thought I was completely asleep while still being mentally awake. Then, my mind relaxed and followed my body into the darkness.
Red light showed through my eye lids. Even with closed eyes the light was painful. Instinctively I pulled my arms in front of my face but it did nothing. It was as if the light went through my body. Worried and a little annoyed I cracked one eye open just enough to see a figure in front of me. Heat came from off of its surface and grew in intensity as it drew closer to me. At one point I sensed that I should be on Fire the heat was so great, but I felt no pain.
“How am I not burning?”
I said in an attempt to communicate. But no words were given in response. Instead the figure, now face to face with me, began to lift its hand slowly. Now I was fully turned to face it. The light no longer hurt my eyes. I then locked eyes with the figure as it’s hand wrested on the right side of my face. A profound sense of love filled every crevice of me. Then came the knowledge, or kind of an understanding. I just knew what the figure was communicating. It was as if 1,000 conversations were had all at once. Feelings of unmet justice, and mercy towards an unseen but deserving community of people rested in the back of my mind. And on the four front of my thoughts a list of goals became outlined. Then suddenly the space around me became dim again and exhausted I fell to my knees. My hands lay face up in slightly damp sod next to me. Trying to lift my head felt like an unbeatable task, regardless I somehow turned my eyes and head enough to see 6 hooded figures that escorted a man with a baseball cap away from a river. I tried to see more, but my body completely gave out. It only took a second for the world to rotate to its proper angle as my face landed in the damp sod. Here I wrested for what had to be a great length of time.
The sun touched my face and caused me to awaken from a dream that I could only describe as... the totel understanding of justice. No force could hold back what was coming. The only lick of hope for evil was the mercy it denied to all that drew from it. | 2020-08-01T03:54:43 | 2020-08-01T02:47:27 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] The human population has always been static. The instant one person dies, another is born. You wake up one morning to an emergency broadcast reporting billions of unexpected pregnancies. You have 9 months to figure out why. | Our planet’s population is seven billion, seven hundred and seventy-eight million, seven hundred and forty-two thousand, and forty-nine—or 7,778,742,049 human beings. It has been that way for the last fifty-five years. Ever since our planet stopped growing.
It wasn’t noticed at first—The Great Ceiling that is. That’s what we call it. It wasn’t noticed. But most experts on the subject state that The Great Ceiling was reached in the year 2020 and this is what caused the 2020 coronavirus pandemic. I am one of those experts, and currently the head of research at the Earth Census Organization, or ECO for short.
Right now, I’m giving a lecture on The Great Ceiling to a group of high school students who are on a field trip to our North American headquarters. I give this speech every last Friday of the month. It is sort of a ceremony to me now, a way I know the week, and month, is about over and my family life at home can begin. At least that is the idea—or the hope—but in reality, I work many weekends. It is our job to track all pregnancies and all deaths around the world, and I’m telling them about this responsibility right now.
“…fifteen years after The Great Ceiling was reached a resolution was passed to freeze populations in nations at their current level. At the time, populations with higher growth rates, like India or Afghanistan, for instance were still growing, while other countries were shrinking.
“Prior to The Great Ceiling, this was never a concern, but when population became a scarce resource, then nations began to hoard theirs. They looked at those who were still growing, as stealing from collective pie, so to speak, and to save full on war the resolution of static populations was passed. When I was not much older than you—when I first began working here, I actually helped draft that bill. It was one of the proudest moments of my life.”
A girl with brunette hair and a purple blouse raises her hand in the back row. Her hair is braided tight to her head. It looks painful.
“Yes,” I say, pointing to her. “You have a question?”
“My mom says that people got mean when the world filled up.”
I nod my head.
“Well…I’m not sure If I’d say that. But I think your Mom does have a point. Since The Great Ceiling was reached, the world has become a more violent place—deaths, murders have risen dramatically. For instance, before we reached The Great Ceiling, believe it or not, the death penalty was hardly used. But now, well I'm sure you all know how frequent capital punishment is used nowadays. What used to get you ten years in prison is now an automatic execution.
"Of course, human rights groups have protested this, but it is harder now to make the argument that a criminal, a scourge on our society, deserves to keep on living, to hold one of those those 7.7 billion tickets to live, more than a child waiting in the womb of its mother, don't you think?
"Some say life has become more precious—that existence on this planet has become exclusive—whereas in the past it was never seen that way, families could have as many children as they wanted. Some parents, although rare, had upwards of fifteen to twenty children! Can you imagine that? Needless to say, today that seems almost unthinkable…”
Carl, my good friend and co-worker at ECO, walks up to me at the podium and whispers in my ear. “Wrap this up, there’s a situation.”
I look over and nod at him. There is no expression on his face other than what seems to be anxiety, or maybe fear? I cannot tell, but it makes me feel uncomfortable.
I look back into the rows of chairs where the high school students sit yawning, checking their devices, or laughing with each other.
“Thank you, again for coming, I say. It’s always a pleasure…” I begin to say, and the students look at me surprised. They were slotted to be here for an hour and it’s only been twenty minutes. They look happy they don’t have to sit through another boring forty minutes of an old man talking about an uninteresting topic. A part of me is happy for them.
Lisa, the tour guide, starts to shout out instructions to the children as I walk out of the room where Carl is waiting for me.
“There has been a reported spike in pregnancies,” he tells me.
“Where?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “Everywhere. We’re talking huge numbers, Jack.”
“How huge?”
“I don’t know. Ummm, ten million so far today, and it’s rising fast.”
Jesus, I think to myself. We generally have around 150,000 deaths and births every day. Ten million pregnancies—that means in nine months something is going to happen to make room for all of these new babies. Something cataclysmic is going to happen in nine months.
\---
## [**Part 2 >>**](https://www.reddit.com/r/CataclysmicRhythmic/comments/m3iran/the_great_ceiling_part_2/) | Alex licked his lips as he looked through his telescope. The stars were going dark. Each night, more would blink out of existence, their silvery wisps gone forever from the night sky.
As Alex peeked through the scope, he noticed at least two more clusters of stars winking out of existence. He stood up, letting his unruly long hair fall onto his button-up shirt. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets, sighing as he looked up with his own brown eyes.
*What's happening up there?* It was the only thought on his mind as he stood there in his silent backyard. Even the crickets were silent tonight. His quiet breathing sounded loud to his own ears as he wondered which star was going to disappear by tomorrow.
Alex took a long, deep gasp of air as he let his thoughts fade away as the air infiltrated into his lungs. Then, with a heavy sigh, he let out the warmed air and shook his head. He had been at this for months now. No one knew what was causing it. They just knew the strange signals from space had caused them to look towards the stars.
Something was trying to communicate with them. And Alex had no clue what it was. Alex bit down on his tongue, letting his teeth sink in hard like he wanted to bite it off. He wouldn't have to tell his boss that he couldn't figure out what was going on up there if he had no tongue, he thought.
"Not going to learn anything tonight," Alex said to himself as he moved to bring his telescope inside. His lab would have a better one, but still, the man couldn't drop his work at the office. It would always follow him home. To his dark, lonely home. Cynthia would have been there if only Alex didn't bring work home every night. She wanted a kid, and Alex wanted a promotion. Alex clicked his tongue at the thought of it. He couldn't blame her for leaving.
He let the thought die out as he lagged into his living room, heaving and huffing from carrying the telescope. Placing down the telescope, Alex struggled to move towards the door and slide it shut. "I need to get some weights," Alex said to no one other than himself.
Once the blood stopped pounding in his head, Alex could hear the soft whisper of his TV. He looked over and took in the news. It was the same story about the babies. Alex huffed as he shook his head. "When it rains, it pours, huh?" The silence said nothing in return.
3.4 billion women were suddenly pregnant. Imagine that. 3.4 billion virgin mothers just sprung up like weeds overnight. Alex snorted at a passing thought. *Stars are dying, and humanity is booming with over 3 billion future messiahs. Maybe they know what's going on.*
Alex shook the thought of his mind as he walked over to his couch, grabbing the remote from the table as he did. He plopped down on the soft couch with a heavy thud, changing the channel to whatever nature documentary was on.
Various news channels flashed by. Some talked about the riots caused by the sudden pregnancies. Some were saying the end of the world was coming. Others just wanted an excuse to smash up whatever they could. Some parts of the world were on fire, and Alex didn't want to think when his part of the world would be alight.
The TV flashed once more, revealing an animated Earth, spinning in place. A soothing voice filled the quiet living room as Alex found a documentary about humanity. "Nearly 8 billion humans live on planet Earth. Imagine that," the soothing voice said, "8 billion! Somehow our little planet is managing all those minds and bodies as they move through life."
Alex snorted at that. "Yeah, let's see how we do in nine months, buddy." Alex changed the channel to whatever else he could find. But nothing caught his eye.
Alex kept flipping through the channels when his phone buzzed itself alive, moving across his coffee table. He looked at the caller ID, grimacing as he did.
*Amanda - Work.*
Alex clicked his tongue against his teeth. He slowly grabbed for the phone, hoping the buzzing would die out before he reached it. But she would keep calling if he didn't pick up.
"Hey there Amanda, what's up?"
A frantic voice assaulted Alex's ear. "Alex, where are you right now?!"
Alex's eyebrow arched. *She's never this freaked out.* "Uh, I'm at home. Why?"
"Get down here now! We need all hands on deck right *now*!"
Alex's face jerked in a mix of surprise and confusion. "Amanda, it's 8 PM. Why would you need me now?"
"Because, Alex, we just decoded the first message. It's all connected!"
Alex's mouth hung loose, nothing but confusion came out of it. "I-I don't know what you mean? What's all connected? The messages? The decoding?"
"The babies, Alex! The babies."
Alex reeled back. *Okay, that was not what I was expecting.* "What do you mean?" Alex leaned forward, planting his feet firm and shifting to the edge of his seat. "How are the stars connected to the babies?"
"Because we aren't the only ones out there! The messages! They were videos, Alex! Videos of us! We don't have the full algorithm to decode the messages entirely yet. But we have a frame. We have a frame of *us*, Alex! There are other humans out there!"
Alex's eyes went wide as he dropped the phone. His head pivoted, looking at the telescope while Amanda's voice managed to reach his ears. She was shouting his name, but Alex didn't hear her frantic voice. Instead, Alex's mind held only one single phrase.
*Holy shit.*
___
Well, this is completely out of my wheelhouse! I just thought the prompt was fun and decided to give it a go! With that being said, if you like my words and would want more, then you can find them here at r/WritingKnightly! | 2021-03-11T23:46:42 | 2021-03-11T23:22:31 | 961 | 80 |
[WP] "Sire, the hero's party is outside. It's large, too." "Fools. Not even six or seven can stand against me!" "No, sire, you misunderstand. The hero's party consists of his entire village." "Wait, what?" "They weren't happy that you razed their village. And they've all been leveling up." | "Leveling up? Leveling up?? How?"
"Boars, your highness..."
"BOARS?!"
"The forest near their village- err... where their village used to be... appears to spawn boars at a faster rate than average. It's... conceivable that if fifty or so people spent three years training in that forest against boars, then they could each achieve a level of..."
He swallowed as he looked up at the king and removed his spectacles, "Forty-two."
The king fell back into his throne in a defeated slouch, "Gods..."
"Sire... I don't think I need to tell you how dire our situation is."
He ran his fingers through his kingly beard and stared at the wall as he contemplated all of his resources.
"How many soldiers do we have nearby?"
"About two-hundred," his accountant spoke quickly. "But most of them have seldom seen combat. The highest level soldier we have is about level five..."
The king looked around helplessly at his gathered advisors, "B-but... I mean together, we have the numbers right? How could those... those *peasants* stand against the full might of my army??"
The advisors glanced nervously around the room at one another, not one of them willing to speak first.
"What?" The king called out.
"Your highness..." Spoke his accountant. "The soldiers..."
"The soldiers *what*," the king interrupted, waving his hand as though asking him to spit it out already.
"The soldiers," another advisor took the helm. "They can't damage the peasants..."
The king scoffed and lifted an eyebrow, "Oh, they can *damage* them alright." He turned his eyes to his court jester, "Jester. Fetch me a lance."
"He's right," said the jester with serious eyes under a jingle-ball hat. "If your strongest soldier is level five, then he's got an attack stat of... pffft... like twenty, max?" He looked to his right to see the advisors all nodding in agreement. "If he took one of your common weapons into battle, even a heavy one with double-digit damage, he'd never even touch their HP at the level they're at, and some of them aren't even wearing armor."
"You must be joking," the king fumed.
"Alas, sire," the jester said solemnly as he pulled his jingly hat from his head and wrung it in his hands. "I do not jest this day... And I fear I may never jest again."
He began to cry at the end of his sentence, a couple of advisors coming to his side for comfort. The king looked around the room with a wide-eyed expression, "WHAT MANNER OF FOOL DO YOU ALL TAKE ME FOR?!" He stood from his throne and strode toward the front window. "Allow me to *see* this rabble with mine own eyes," he growled before tearing the curtain aside.
His arms fell to his sides as he laid eyes on the militia formed in front of his castle. They were standing in a tight phalanx, each of them more ripped than the last. The others joined him at the window as he searched for words.
"Wow," the jester whispered. "That is one *ripped* six-year-old. I mean, that kid is *cut*. She's not even holding a weapon, she's just looking around as though waiting to strangle something."
"That phalanx is perfect, your highness," spoke the accountant.
"I *know* it's perfect, gods be damned!" The king screamed as he closed the curtains and paced across the floor. "And that was indeed one... *intimidating* child." He turned his eyes toward the gathered advisors, "Do we truly have... no options?"
The accountant swallowed and looked down at the scroll he was holding. "By my estimations, sire... That six-year old could tear the gate apart with her bare hands. The hero is wearing diamond armor, so..."
"So he bought the DLC," the king said in a defeated tone. "Then his level cap..."
The accountant nodded slowly, "It was... raised by thirty levels."
The advisors looked around at one another in surprise. They'd never seen their king give up before. The mood in the room was heavy as the accountant slowly walked up and laid a hand on the king's shoulder. "The hero is level 80, your highness. I fear even dragon's fire would merely... tickle his taint, at best."
The king faced the wall and pulled his crown from his head, "Leave me."
They obeyed, all save for the jester who remained behind. The king heaved a heavy sigh and turned to see his jester still standing there with a sympathetic look on his face.
"Jester," he grumbled.
"Your highness?"
"I want to... impart to you what may be my final decree," he said as he made his way toward the window. He opened the curtain and gazed down at the gathered peasants once more.
"My time is at an end. It isn't a surprise, rather it has been my comfort all these years that the end will someday come. Kings rise and fall like the ocean tide... but kingdoms... they live on." He turned and smiled at the jester, "my opponent is a hero. He will not slay my heir."
"I suppose... that is true," the jester said with a faint smile.
"See to it that all my advisors are tortured terribly and imprisoned in the dungeon for the rest of their days. Dismantle my sodomy mechanism and bury the pieces, I shant have use for it any longer. Make sure never to let the annual kitten-stomp die off- in fact, name it after me."
He smiled warmly as he looked back on his life of terrible accomplishments.
"I know I've never said that I love you, son..."
The jester's eyes moistened.
"Because I don't... and I never will. But I don't *hate* you, boy."
The jester smiled and nodded, containing his tears of joy.
For it was perhaps the nicest thing his father had ever said to him.
- - -
r/A15MinuteMythos | The Baron danced a pattern in the air with his fingers and uttered a few arcane words, and an misty orb shimmered into existence in front of him as he looked into it. The mist parted and revealed the large, diverse number of people outside. Close to a hundred or more.
The Baron violently waved the orb away, thinking as his subordinate quietly gulped at his side.
"Tell them I'm not in." The Baron said after a moment of dense silence.
"Tell them... Tell them what, sire?"
"Tell them I am away, you snivelling swine. Grow some balls before you open the door and face them." The Baron snapped, and the little man shrank, whimpering, before taking his leave to do what he was ordered.
The Baron magicked the orb back, and watched apprehensively. Waiting for the servant to address the villagers.
By the gods did they look... worn. Not worn from mundane work in their fields or hunting.
These were battlehardened individuals. Some of them even looked to be mages, wearing robes and wielding wands or staves.
The servant opened the tall door and stepped outside. The villagers looked at him expectantly.
And then the little bastard pointed right at the room the Baron was in, many floors above.
The villagers pushed past him as they flooded the manor.
The Baron dismissed the orb again, panicking.
Why did they choose today of all days? Had they known the undead army would be resting on odd days? They must have figured it out.
Usually the Baron would have countermeasures. His castle was well fortified and trapped with magical methods. But this was not his castle but his manor in the woods.
No, the villagers definitely had planned this well.
Even as he pondered this he felt the mental tripwires snagging as the villagers tested and dismantled the bare minimum of arcane traps he had placed in the manor.
Curse their mages. To have studied and mastered the arcane to a degree which allowed them to deconstruct his traps in barely a year was a frightening prospect. They must have hated his guts that much.
And they would reach him within minutes going by the fact that he just felt the third to last trap fizzle in his mind.
His gaze shot towards glass cabinet. Or more specifically, the tome inside it. He walked briskly towards it and hesitated.
If he was to do this, it would set him back years.
No matter. It was the only way he could get out of this alive.
He smashed the glass with the back of his staff, and reached in for the thick, leather bound book.
Inside was a teleportation spell, so ancient but advanced beyond the scope of current day wizards. The Baron had found it on an expedition many years ago, and realised how valuable s resource it was. He had been meticulously and carefully copying the spells in the book to his own scrolls. But something about the teleportation spell eluded him.
He would have to risk the tome itself to cast it.
He opened quickly to the bookmarked page just as the last of the trap was dismantled.
Mere seconds now.
He began the incantation.
He heard the banging on the door. Loud shouts.
So close. Why was the language so old? So wordy?
He heard heavier thuds as a single body threw itself repeatedly against the door.
Come on now. Only three more verses.
The door swung open.
No matter. He would be done reciting the spell before they even got to him.
Or so he thought.
An arrow whistled through the air and struck his hand, entering through his knuckle and embedding itself into the book.
His concentration broke and his words faltered as they broke way into a scream.
The heavyset woman who had broken through the door barreled towards him as the stout little archer behind her readied another arrow.
He was so close. He said the remaining words through the pain, but the concentration was already lost. The words meant nothing following that pitiful scream. He felt the strong arms grabbing his own and pinning them back. The book tore away from his hand as he was shoved to the floor.
From behind the archer a woman entered, dressed in the garbs of the Assembly. A mandated sorceress. He vaguely recognised her. She had vowed revenge the day he had plunged the metal tip of his staff through her father's stomach.
But that pitiful woman from that village had gone and studied the arcane. And somehow managed to get herself mandated in a year. No. That could not be it. She had stolen the garb more likely.
"Do you remember me?" She asked.
"Should I?" The Baron smiled. His hands might be pinned, but some magic only relied on words and not gestures. He tried to think of a spell he could utter that would grant him escape.
But before he could, he felt the air shiver and grow just a little colder around his head.
"Now, that's better." The woman said.
The Baron knew what had just happened. She had cast her own spell on him. One that would prevent him from speaking a deliberate lie for the foreseeable future.
"Do you remember me? Any of us?" She asked.
"I have many enemies." He started, but the woman pinning his arms started turning them, twisting them.
"Answer truthfully now." The brute cautioned.
"Yes. Your village fell to my dead more than a year ago." He breathed, angry to reveal any kind of information they desired.
"See that is where you're wrong. If it truly fell, then we wouldn't be here. What's the point of leaving us alive? What's the point of killing a few of us and then destroying all our homes? Our harvest? That's what I don't understand."
"My goals aren't worth explaining to you."
"You don't see yourself as an evil man, do you? Evil people rarely do."
"I do what needs to be done."
"Well, now you can continue your work from the comforts of your jail cell."
"You're not here to kill me?" He asked, a little surprised.
"I am a state official now. Things follow procedure, as much as I hate it in this case."
"You're lying. You stole those robes."
"Who knew I had magic in me, ready to be explored and utilised and mastered? The rage I felt that day when I held my father's corpse unlocked the arcane side of me. When I enrolled at the Assembly they placed me in the accelerated courses. Even that was too slow for me." The woman smiled.
"Can we do what we came here to do now?" The other woman grumbled.
"Yes. Sorry."
"We all have our grievances." The brute said. Was that... Empathy in her voice?
"Anyway, let me cut to the chase. We all picked up adventuring or academia. All of us you had so thankfully spared. We are all capable to take you down. We learned your patterns, your movements, everything about you. And when it came time to finally apprehend you, I called in some favours. See, they'll get you to put in their cell. Eventually. After we're all done with you. All one hundred and twenty-six of us. Now, why don't we take this outside where there's more room. And let's gag his mouth do he doesn't try any funny spells." | 2021-07-19T10:20:59 | 2021-07-19T09:27:23 | 623 | 63 |
[WP] Magicians are quite rare. They are not born; they're made. It is through unimaginable pain that their powers manifest. Their ability is linked to their own personal trauma. So tell me child, what can YOU do? | Lynch regarded the teenage girl in front of him, and barely held back a scoff. Her tattered clothing was in contrast to his grand robes in orange, indicating his status as the Archmage of Recruitment.
“Child,” he said. “I do not want to underestimate you. But I sense zero magic in you.”
“Please,” Thea said, her voice as small as a mouse, and more squeaky. “I can. I’ve endured the pain. I’ve seen the Firelight.”
Archmage Lynch sighed, rubbing his temple. One of the core tenets of his title was to listen to anybody who came to his door, whether they were talents or charlatans. And while personal trauma was important in the formation of magic, it was a condition, not the end result. Every mage has gone through pain. Not every person with pain can become a mage.
Keen eyes regarded the small form before him. There was a certain aura to mages, even for the raw diamonds in the rough. Orange sparks or a glow would form about them, the basest form of the arcane. They could be moulded into different specializations, changing colour depending on the path each disciple chose.
Thea’s, instead, was plain grey.
“I’ll let you stay for the night,” Lynch said. “I’ll send for a carriage tomorrow morning, where you can return to your home village.”
Thea’s eyes was pale grey as well, the beginnings of gathering storm clouds.
“You are not taking me in?”
“I’ve seen enough to know you do not possess even the most rudimentary of magics,” the Archmage said. “There is no fire. Only ash.”
“I will show you,” Thea whispered, her voice gaining the timbre of a thousand people. Where once was a little girl, she seemed to loomed larger. “The pain. Of not being able to cast magic.”
Lynch stepped back warily. He felt his skin crawl, the floor shake, and the air change. He felt as if the East Wind itself built up in his manor, cackling with the energy of mighty storms.
And Thea spoke a word. It reverberated with power, sucking the air out of Lynch himself. All chatter and derision was replaced with the deafening sound of silence. The vacuum was formed, and Thea was at the heart of it all.
“Quiet.”
All Lynch would do was sit there, mouth agape, with nothing coming out of it. It was so unnatural, not hearing the whispers of the still air, nor his racing heart that existed within his body, nor even his own breath as he desperately sucked in air.
And just as suddenly, everything was restored in an overwhelming cacophony of noise. He quickly adjusted, but those seconds away felt more intimidating and terrifying than facing a fireball.
Thea’s knees buckled, and she fell to the floor. With surprising speed, Lynch covered the distance and hook his arms under hers, preventing Thea from collapsing.
And the Archmage realised his mistake at interpreting the grey aura. It was but one part of the talent Thea possessed.
It was for the same reason a termite under a rotten log couldn’t see the whole forest.
---
r/dexdrafts | "Well, you see, Miss Julia, we do not typically give tours of the school." The headmaster was ancient. So ancient that Julia could not tell which marks on his face were wrinkles and which were scars. He stood blocking the doorway holding a staff in one mangled hand as if he thought he was going to have a say in the matter.
"No doubt you received the letter from my father, the Minister. It made the request quite clear, I believe." She had in her pocket a more formal order for the inspection of the school, but her father had advised her not to use it unless necessary. It was best to maintain the veneer of choice, especially when dealing with Magicians.
"It is only out of respect for your delicate nature, Miss Julia, that I hesitate. Our students, especially those early in their training, can be quite— jarring."
"You will find my nature anything but delicate, Headmaster. We shall proceed." She walked forward, forcing the headmaster to quickly turn and follow her. As she reached the threshold of the school, the air resisted her slightly, pressing her skirts firmly up against her legs, but she pressed through it with a jerk. She realized that she could no longer hear the traffic from the street outside. In its place was a regular staccato of screams.
Julia turned to the headmaster and raised one eyebrow. He refused to meet her gaze. "You are aware, no doubt, Miss Julia, that a Magician's magic is always related to some trauma that they have experienced. The stronger the trauma, the more powerful a Magician may become. The screams— well— some of the children have lasting effects."
He gestured for her to follow and walked through the entry atrium. In the center, facing the doorway was a painting of the headmaster as a much younger man. Looking at it, Julia realized that all of his wrinkles had started as scars. They passed out of the atrium into a hallway of doors. Next to each door was a window looking into a small classroom. The headmaster stopped next to the first.
"This is where we teach fire magic." The headmaster didn't meet Julia gaze but gestured at the window. The room was bare, with a single metal table in the center and blackened walls. A red-robed fire mage stood with a lit candle in one hand and a strong grip on a young student in the other. The child struggled as the mage held his hand to the flame. The scream was not muffled by the window.
"Worry not, Miss Julia. The burns will be fully healed. We've come quite a long way since my days as a student." The headmaster stretched out his own deformed hand as he spoke.
Julia turned away from the window. "It was my understanding that the students gained their magic from trauma they experienced before coming to the school."
"Oh, yes. We don't accept any that don't already have the spark. But their abilities must be further developed. They must learn multiple types of magic."
Julia rushed down the corridor looking in each window. She saw blades, tubs, chains, darkness, and other things she had not the imagination to determine the use of. She turned back to the headmaster.
"They are just children. Isn't it too much for them?"
"We almost never have to resort to the collar anymore. Mad Mages are mostly a thing of the past. A much bigger danger is that they will fail to develop sufficient abilities, despite our most strident efforts. Since they are mostly orphans they would often end up on the street in those cases. We cannot allow that, of course, but we have a very nice island on which to release them." The headmaster was interrupted by screams three times while speaking.
Julia stood silently for a minute thinking about what to say. No one in society would have guessed the state of this school. She turned to the old magician.
"Headmaster. I have seen enough. I would like to enroll my daughter."
\[See me critique my work at r/c_avery_m\]
\[Ask me questions in this week's [Writer's Spotlight](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ubkpmr/ot_writers_spotlight_c_avery_m/)\] | 2022-04-26T11:02:18 | 2022-04-26T10:52:17 | 389 | 30 |
[WP] Reversed Hades and Persephone situation: the Goddess of Life kidnaps the God of Death to be her new husband, meaning that six months of the year things are normal but the other half literally nothing is able to die. | I hated how it was all we would hear about for the two months prior. We hadn't even finished celebrating Remembrance Day, and already we would see the notices plastered on billboards, on the front page of the news paper, notices sent to our phones. For two months we would be subjected to the daily reminders. "DayLife Savings Time is coming!"
Some people saw this as a holiday. It was an opportunity for athletes and thrill seekers to push their physical limits without worrying about the consequences. Many saw an opportunity to delve into their depravities and enjoy mind altering chemicals in extreme doses. My family always treated it as a somber six months; a time to pity those who survived car crashes and house fires. For an unlucky select few it was even a much needed six month vacation. After all, what good are paramedics and doctors in a world in which you literally can't die? Well, except to tend to 'survivors'.
Ever present was the ceaseless march of capitalism. 'Marketing opportunities at their finest,' as touted by some advertising magnate or another. We were peddled emergency preparedness kits. 'Protect your family. Protect yourself'. Nobody wanted to be buried alive, or drug beneath the ocean, or set on fire. Even so, we weren't going to stop going on cruises, or cancel our camping trip during the prime fishing months. So out of our fear and hubris we went to purchase a false belief that we could somehow mitigate our own bad decisions. Decisions which, of course, remained both unmitigated and unimpeded.
Rockstar Layne Montague made headlines in 1982 when he announced his imminent death. "I've done like, so many drugs man, that my heart literally has exploded. Our final concert will be the eve of DayLife Savings Time's end. All proceeds go to charity." Which was a nice gesture, until it slowly morphed into The Concert of the Century. I believe they tripled the highest attendance for a concert that day. It was so popular that it became the chic way for an artist to end their career, and every single time it was some kind of record breaking event. One year there were *fourteen* artists going out at once. Deathstock '99 become a cultural phenom.
You know it's just a game for some people. "How much damage can we take now if we have six months to heal?" This is where the internet really came into the picture. That kind of thing had always been publicly frowned upon. Women would cluck their tongues and men would sadly shake their head and ask "What has gone wrong in these lads lives. Yet once the videos were available online we started watching. Then as we watched the advertisers came. As the advertisers got rich, the network executives took notice. Then came the blood sport.
And here's where we are. Ten years ago, they launched The Arena Network. For six months of the year death in exciting, drama filled seasons are broadcast around the world. The only cost to sate our blood lust, apparently, is sitting through the same Huggies commercial six times an hour. It's not like anyone ever actually died either. If nobody died, then our conscience could stay clean, so why *wouldn't* we watch? Then The Arena grew bigger and bigger, needed more bandwidth, an extra satellite. So they sent up a satellite! But the goddamn satellite didn't work did it? If the satellite doesn't work, then they can't make as much money! So they went and found two dickheads who needed money, then gave them a lot of it to come up here at the very beginning of DayLifeSavingsTime all so these dickheads can fix the damn satellite. In *space*.
*And fucking then* of course while we're out here some rogue satellite hits the ship and sends it off course away from us with a busted engine so Charlie can't come back to find us.
"Ralph."
"Yes Mark?"
"Please shut up."
The silence provided only a moment of peace.
"And since we can't even tell time out here without a point of reference..."
"God dammit Ralph." | ##Tears of Death
Primvia sits on her throne of roses with a crown of lilacs. Across her domain, nature sings in the warm light of day. A small pool directly before her contains fish leaping into the air. At the bottom of the pool, a batch of eggs begins to hatch. Primvia closes her eyes as life begins before her.
A gust of wind wakes her. A tall man wearing loose clothing with callouses on his feet stands before her. His skin glows with youth in the sun, and his smile implies mischief. His eyes convey the wisdom of his age.
"Argint, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Primvia asks.
"Decet has gone missing. I was sent to look for him," Argint replies.
"Understandable, you are the fastest of us, but I haven't the faintest idea of where he is." Primvia stands from her throne. "Now, if you would be so kind to excuse me, I have flowers to tend."
"Iad said he saw Decet here," Argint says. Primvia stares at the sun.
"I should've know he'd give me away, and I thought I was his favorite aunt."
"I don't understand what you would want with Decet. His personality is quite dour," Argint says.
"Ah, but that's his appeal." Primvia moves closer to Argint." I spend all of my time in sunshine laughing. The brooding lord of darkness is a refreshing change of pace."
"I can understand wanting a change in environment, but you have cursed the lives of everything on Terra. If you don't care about the lives of our subjects, ask yourself how Decet feels about the arrangement," Argint says.
"Decet loves it here. He can tell you himself. Decet!" Primvia yells. In the corner of her domain is a large forest with foliage thick enough to block the sun to allow for nocturnal beasts to thrive. A pale man with glowing blue eyes steps out of the forest. His shoulders are slouched, but every step is filled with joy.
"Argint, it's so lovely that you decided to join us." Decet puts his arm around Primvia. Argint blinks several times.
"Wow, I wasn't expecting you to like her."
"Why wouldn't I love her? Her cheery demeanor brightens my existence."
"But you are creating a world where everything is immortal."
"Is that really a curse? Everyone dreads seeing me. Primvia is the first person who wants to talk with me." Decet's voice cracks. "It's wonderful."
"Yes, the trees have grown so large that animals have become trapped in them. The animals can't die so they are doomed to a life in pain. The fish have rapidly overpopulated the sea and spend the days starving. Humans have become largely sedimentary due to the old age. What youth do remain are left to care for them. Terra needs death. You need to leave here," Argint says.
"No, I don't want to leave her." Decet says.
"And I want him to stay." Primvia steps before him and makes the vines grow from the ground. Argint flies above them.
"Alright, fine how about a deal." Argint holds out his arms. The vines recede, and Decet steps forward.
"I'm listening."
"For six months of the year, you'll be here with Primvia. For the other six months, you'll be harvesting the dead that you missed," Argint says. Primvia and Decet look at each other.
"I think it's a good idea. Death makes life worth living," Primvia says.
"Alright, I accept your terms." Decet steps forward. Argint grabs Decet's arm and drags him out of Primvia's realm. When they leave, Argint quickly puts the end of a chain on Decet's wrist. The chain pulls Decet to the underworld without Argint who follows closely.
"Argint, what is this?" Decent struggles in the chain.
"It was crafted by Vulja. It extends to the edge of Terra to allow you to harvest souls but no further," Argint says.
"You lied to me. You broke your word as a god."
"I was the god of lies before I was a messenger." Argint laughs. "Traspot gave me this role to keep me occupied. Thank you for allowing me to relive my former glory."
"Primvia will not stand for this," Decet cries.
"She's already been chained to her realm by Iad and Sate. She has no say in this." Decet hurls a curse at Argint who dodges it. Argint flies away from the god. "You have one consolation. You will see Primvia whenever a soul crosses from the world from the living to the dead. Enjoy those moments."
Argint flees the underworld.
From that day forward, every soul was greeted by a weeping man with a weeping woman behind them. They do not weep for the souls. They weep for the love they lost.
---
r/AstroRideWrites | 2022-11-15T21:10:30 | 2022-11-15T16:49:40 | 110 | 48 |
[WP] Your super power is preventing collateral damage. While the public thinks you're useless, all the other heroes really like you because they can go bonkers all out while you're around. | Cloudburst hovered above the street, staring down a monstrous tank. Cybertech’s robotic voice echoed out from the vehicle, cold and mocking. Behind it lay a path of ruin. Buildings had collapsed under its twin cannons as it fled from Johnson Research Labs. A few bodies poked out from the rubble. His heart clenched.
“Stand back.” The nearby police officers looked at him in confusion. “The fight could get dangerous.”
Instead of complying, the looks of confusion only intensified.
One officer spoke up: “I thought you could shield us from harm?”
Anger caused his stomach to tighten further. He had to take a breath to avoid lashing out. They did not know that Cybertech was not the only one at fault for the deaths and destruction.
“No,” he replied. “That’s Null’s job.”
There was some murmuring about Null, but some of the officers began backing away. One man’s eyes widened, but there was no time to deal with it. Without another word, Cloudburst rocketed toward the tank. Electricity crackled around his body as he collided with the outer shell. The tank stalled, and a camera turned to face him.
“Ah. Cloudburst. You’re a bit late. It’s been quite a day for the humans.” Cybertech let out a stilted, robotic chuckle. “I forgot how squishy humans were.”
Cloudburst scowled. “Begone, construct.”
He sent a massive surge of electricity through the tank. But Cybertech only laughed.
“The new insulation seems to be working well. Now get out of my way.”
The tank suddenly glowed and Cloudburst found himself jettisoned away from the vehicle.
Panic flooded his mind. *No!*
But it was too late to change course. He crashed through a building, causing it to shudder. There were screams as people who had not escaped got caught up in the damage.
*I need to finish this before it gets any worse.*
He reached out and grabbed a steel rod dislodged from the building’s foundation.
“I don’t have time for you today.”
The electric fields in the air distorted, and the rod shot forward with a bang. Cybertech’s tank skidded several feet to the side from the impact. Cloudburst was already on the move, charging up electricity in his palm. A thick bolt of lightning leaped from his hand toward the steel rod. This time, the tank’s lights flickered wildly.
“No… matter…. I’ve already….” Cybertech’s voice box fizzled out and the tank fell silent.
With a sigh, Cloudburst flew back over to the police.
“You.” Cloudburst pointed at the man who had seemed nervous when he mentioned Null. “Where is Null?’
Indignation filled the officer’s face as he realized he had been singled out. “He was hanging around the lab campus, and their security called us to deal with it.”
Cloudburst looked to the other officers. Most of them seemed shocked, but a few looked guilty.
“The Supers Collective will deal with you later.” Cloudburst took another step and repeated, “Where is Null?”
But the officer continued. “We were just doing our job! What’s it matter if that hanger-on wasn’t here?”
“Kemmers! Answer the man now!” His superior officer apparently got fed up with his excuses. “What did you do with the Super?”
Officer Kemmers held fast. “S-Sir! Why are you defending him? Everyone knows he doesn’t do anything. ‘First on the scene, never does a thing.’ It’s all over the news!”
Something snapped, and Cloudburst said, “He’s the reason no one dies whenever we fight!”
He inadvertently let off a crackle of electricity, causing nearby electronics to flicker. The officer paled.
Finally, in a small voice, he said, “He’s in a holding cell at the precinct.”
Cloudburst left in a flash of energy. Moments later, the local precinct came into view.
“Cloudburst?” The officer at the front desk looked up in shock.
“Where are the holding cells? One of your officers arrested Null. Everyone involved in this is now culpable for the resulting deaths and destruction.”
Stunned, the officer could only point to a hallway on the left. Cloudburst strode past the front desk without another word.
“Null!” He kicked open the door to the holding cells to relieve some of his frustrations.
Null looked up as he entered the basement. Even through the mask, Cloudburst could see the bruises beginning to form.
“How many died this time?” Null’s emotionless voice rang out.
Cloudburst shook his head and quickly made his way over to the cell. A quick jolt of electricity unlocked the door.
But Null remained seated. “Sorry I couldn’t get out of here in time.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” The words felt hollow even as he said them.
Null only gave him a sad smile.
...
Rushed a bit to finish it since I was having lunch while writing.
If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile. There's also an original story, The Crossroads.
Thanks for reading.
**(Follow-up Story in Replies Below)** | "Are you ready for your interview?".
I looked up from my seat on the sofa, yawning. Harold stood there with a smile on his face, as he always did. Being in charge of us was probably incredibly stressful, but he never let it show. Though I suppose I went a long way to helping with that.
"I guess so boss. This is for our new website isn't it?"
He nodded, as a glass smashed. He looked up to see Vanishing Man wince, picking up the pieces of a broken vase. Great man, good for delivering unexpected punches in battle. Though when not in a fight his spatial awareness left a lot to be desired.
"Thats right. A basic overview of powers, of course nothing specific or not already known to the public. Though yours aren't well known, we decided to let it be known, mainly to keep public trust up."
I shrugged, standing up.
"Whatever you think is best. I don't mind. Alright, let's get this over with."
He lead me to a specially prepared conference room. Inside I could see the reporter, a well dressed lady with a laptop and recorder. A high speed camera sat next to her, pointed at a section of concrete. Also within was Mass Hit, our resident super strong individual. He used it well with his unique power of increasing the mass of anything he used, making his attackes devestating if done right. He grinned as he saw me enter, rubbing his hands together with glee. I returned the smile, before focusing on the reporter.
"Ms Denni I presume? A pleasure to meet you. My name is Emma Sorales, also known as The Constant."
She smiled politely, holding out a hand for me to shake. I gave a solid pump, before settling in the interviewee chair.
"Nice to meet you. I'm sure you have been made aware, but I am here to interview you with anything for the public to know. That means I will record our talk, however if there is anything you say that should be struck from the record, please say and we will make sure it is removed."
"Thank you. Let's get this started then shall we?"
She nodded, looking to her laptop.
"Ok. First off, the big question, what are your powers?"
I smiled, looking over at Mass Hit. I knew why he was here, ready for the demonstration.
"My power is Collateral Damage Mitigation. Basically, when I'm around super powers don't affect objects as much as they should. For instance, someone who can punch through stone won't make a hole in the walll when I'm nearby. Fire hot enough to melt steel will only blacken things. Basically, I'm the dream of any insurance policy holders."
Ms Denni nodded, considering her next question.
"So you prevent collateral damage. Does that mean you are around as often as possible when there are fights happening?"
I gave a smirk.
"Indeed. In fact I'm almost always one of the first on the scene. My power means that if there is a fight in the morning, after lunch the street can generally open again for business as usual. I'm not in the main spotlight, but I don't need to be. By just being nearby, I protect most things. If they are stringer than my base connection, I can focus to increase the strength of the targeted buildings."
She tapped her laptop, looking to the next one.
"Thats very useful isn't it? So what about disaster response? How do you help with that?"
I gestured to the building we were in.
"I stay home. I can't help there, and if I went I would hinder help. There are times it's helpful to break through buildings, especially when they are at risk of harming others. Anyway, my power only works against super powers. I can't stop someone from breaking their mug by dropping it. If there is a natural disaster I'm basically useless."
The reporter nodded.
"Fair enough. What's your favourite fight to have been in?"
I grinned at that.
"Easy. About three years ago, during the Clockwork Invasion. I was sent out with Mass Hit, Vanishing Man, the Hyde Twins and a few others. They had a whale of a time, breaking the Watchmakers toys. And I got a front row seat, as my power meant they could throw them around with impunity."
She gave a nod at that.
"I remember that. It was impressive how small the damage recovery was, I suppose bow you are the one to praise for that. Do you want public recognition?"
I thought for a moment, before shaking my head.
"It's funny. At first that's all I wanted. When I joined, I was sure I would be a superstar. But now, I appreciate being in the background. I'm happy doing my bit. The council members and business owners often thank me personally. But I don't need public praise. I'm happy how it is."
Ms Denni smiled at that.
"That's the main questions done for now. Now I think it's time for the video."
I nodded.
"Sure. Mine is simple. You have seen Mass Hit punch through concrete haven't you?"
She nodded. Mass Hit laughed, clenching a fist.
"We did that just now my friend! Same thing?"
I flashed him a smile, giving a nod of agreement.
"Yes please. Though with a cannon ball if you can?"
He shrugged, gesturing to the prepared weights. They would do. A punch could be blamed on special effects. We had a high speed camera. As he threw it one handed, he would also drop a penny. Just to show ir was going the same speed.
"Alright. First throw without, second with. Got it?"
I nodded at him, consciously reigning in my power around the block of concrete. He picked up a weight, chucking it up in the air before launching it at the block, dropping the penny. Unsurprisingly the weight went through, making a sizable hole. Ms Denni gave a polite clap, before I spoke up.
"So that is his normal effect. Now, if I cover it."
I let my power over it again. Mass Hit did the same, throwing it hard. This time the weight bounced off, leaving it unblemished. I turned to the reporter, shrugging.
"Thats it. Nothing flashy, but very useful in our society."
She nodded, looking at the weight and the block.
"Yeah. Yeah I can see that." | 2022-12-17T10:58:06 | 2022-12-17T10:10:06 | 813 | 334 |
[WP] A wife kills her husband. Make me sympathize with both characters. | Sharon pulled the knife out of her husband's chest. "Why did you delete my recording of Breaking Bad?" she screamed. She dropped the knife through her trembling hands. "I DVR-ed that shit for a reason!"
Brandon wheezed on the floor. His palms covered his broken heart. He tried to speak but coughed up blood. Finally he was able to piece together a sentence. "Because I- I bought the complete season for you. For your birthday." His head hit the floor and his body slumped over as he croaked his last words. | I fluffed his pillow and he smiled.
“Thanks for that,” he said, settling happily down on the threadbare cotton sheets. There was a moment of quiet. There was a tube running up his nostrils and into a beeping machine beside him. That was the only thing keeping him here, a metal box, connected to the mains.
“I’ve got a boyfriend now,” I said. “Well, not really a ‘boyfriend’ really, we’re both too old for that kind of thing. Just… the house has been so empty with you gone.” I stopped. I was trying not to let him see me in pain. I sucked a breath in.
“He stops it being quiet.”
“That’s nice dear” He smiled, blissfully, barely aware I was there. He couldn’t remember a thing about me.
He’d always liked the Opera. Classical music wasn't really my thing, but I had brought him his CD’s from home. I turned, and put one it the player next to him. Strings started to play.
"Johannes Brahms..." He sighed and closed his eyes. "Thank you for bringing it. He makes me feel like I'm home"
I smiled, and blinked tears from my eyes. “I hear you've been singing to the nurses. Don Giovanni, apparently. I didn't know you could speak the language.”
“Oh no, I don’t speak Italian. I just like the music”
He wasn’t there anymore. He hadn’t been there for years. I sighed, and my voice broke. I started to cry.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” Not even a spark of recognition.
So I pulled the switch, and let him go.
| 2013-10-08T10:26:16 | 2013-10-08T09:52:54 | 324 | 41 |
[WP] When a parent dies, their knowledge and skills immediately pass on to their eldest child. An adoptee is shocked at what they discover when they receive their inheritance without warning. | My dad was a monster.
That's what the woman told me. I didn't understand why this was happening. Why me? Not just why, either, but how?
I spent my whole life around my dad, but I don't think I ever really knew him. He never talked about his past. Never. He would stay awake all night some nights, drinking whiskey out of the bottle, staring out the window. He carried a gun everywhere.
He did strange things at times, he asked me questions that didn't make any sense. As a child I never really paid any attention to his odd behaviour, that's just how we was. He kept this journal, it looked like it was hand-made and old, but he never wrote anything in it most of the time, he would just stare into it for hours. With the way he reacted after I asked him about it when I was little, I knew never to bring it up. Who was my father, and why is this stranger trying to kill me?
“Your dad would say that I'm a liar,” hissed the woman, almost as though she could hear my thoughts.
She tightened her grip around my neck, I wasn't choking but I was starting to get hazy. This woman is going to kill me.
“You're right, you know,” she smiled faintly, “I am going to kill you. What your father did can never be forgiven.” A look of unfathomable rage washed over her suddenly, and was gone again in an instant. She smiled again.
We moved around a lot when I was a kid. My dad insisted I go to college and get good grades, but we never stayed in one town for more than a semester. What was he running from? This woman? What did he do to her? My mind raced.
“Your dad was a handsome man, you know,” she drew her face in close to mine, “it looks like you ended up with his good looks after all.”
She laughed.
“It's a shame you won't grow up and fill out a little more.”
“Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?” I barked, surprising myself with my anger. It was almost as if something inside me had stirred, like I had changed.
“I suppose I do have a penchant for drama.” She let go of my neck and I fell to the ground. She had been holding me up with one hand this whole time, she was impossibly strong. Why doesn't this make any sense? What is wrong with her eyes?
“But not until you tell me where your father is.”
“He vanished two months ago.” I looked her dead in the eyes as I slowly picked myself off the ground. Where was this strength coming from? A moment ago I was half-dead. “He told me he was going hunting, he never came back. He left me.”
“But I guess he was never really there, was he?”
In the distance I heard a gunshot. The woman didn't react, it was almost as if I was the only one who heard the sound. It was distant, but it was like it came from inside my head.
She took one step towards me and I spoke in a voice that I was certain wasn't my own:
“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus!”
She stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes widened, like a deer in the headlights. “No...”
In an instant I knew who my father was.
“I am Kevin Samuel Winchester, son of Dean Winchester, the greatest hunter who ever lived.”
“No!”
“And lady, you're messin' with the wrong kid.” | "What do you mean 'a heart attack'? He was in prime physical condition! I don't believe you!"
"Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to calm down. We've arranged to have the body moved to Cadwell Memorial."
"Like hell you are! Fuck, do you even know who he is?"
"Ma'am, please. You can call the funeral director, all the information you need is in this folder." The doctor's hairy old hand extended with a manila envelope.
Mel needed some air and so headed toward the elevator.
Mel's phone rang. Cousin Phil. "Hey Mel, I just heard (*what the fuck,* she thought, *Already?*) about your dad. I want to let you know I'm thinking of you and that Shirley and I will be at the reading."
Fucking Phil.
The phone rang again as she exited the hospital. Cal. "Hey Mel, I'm really sorry to hear what happened. We can help with funeral preparations. When's the will reading?" Jesus, what a bunch of fucks.
Later that night, after the initial shock had mellowed and given way to pure anxiety and hints of denial, Mel opened the folder. There was an information sheet for the funeral home and instructions to proceed with funeral arrangements, etc, and a smaller envelope addressed to her by her late adopted father.
She slid her fingernail under the crease, opened the letter and after only a moment was blinded by tears.
The letter read:
> "Dear Melanie, if you have this letter, it means something has happened to me, and I am no longer on this earth.
> My lawyer will be calling you if he has not already, to read the last will and testament. But you know I never had any money. I just had you.
> But there is something else.
> Mel, I need you to do something. But first I need to know that I love you and that even though you're not my flesh and blood I'm very proud of you. That's why it's important that you know what's about to happen.
> I just need you to do one thing before you may acquire your inheritance."
The rest of the letter was a series of web addresses, usernames and passwords. There was no explanation, no details.
Denial turned to anger.
She visited each web site, logged in with the information Dad had provided. She deleted each of the accounts. Until the last one.
There was one message, in a single block paragraph.
>What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.
Anger turned to revenge.
____
There have been a series of disappearances over the last week: a doctor at Platz Memorial hospital, a schoolteacher by the name of Phil Emmers, a butcher named Cal Munsen, a funeral director, and a travel guide named Melanie Oswald. Details are being kept under wraps, but police press releases suggest that there is a single culprit, a military trained sniper. Residents are advised to stay indoors when possible and to alert authorities to suspicious behavior.
| 2014-08-01T12:03:28 | 2014-08-01T11:10:30 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] You have 7 days to die, If you do not die in those 7 days you become immortal. What do you do? | "Your week begins... Now."
The specter vanished as quickly and silently as he appeared. I found myself once again alone in my bedroom. With my eggshell white walls, my twin-sized bed, and my pewter carpet. I began thinking. I imagined what I could do with the gift of time. I imagined the endless possibilities. I began to think of myself in a way I had never thought before. I thought of myself in a hundred years; having learned all the languages I could possibly learn. I would be interesting to every person on Earth. In two hundred years I could master every instrument, sport, magic trick, and juggling act. Any skill I could possibly think of would be attainable. I could woo any woman, and con any man. In five hundred years I could rule the world. All of mankind would learn to fear the man that couldn't die. I could gain allegiance, and I could conquer all. In a thousand I could have so much control that a single word of mine could move mountains. In two thousand years I could be a god; part legend, part history. In ten thousand years, time would mean nothing to me. I would feel days slip by as if I were day dreaming through them. I wouldn't even notice the lifespan of another person. In twenty thousand years I would mean as much as the sun. I would be pondered. I would be studied. I would be thought of as simply part of our universe. In fifty thousand years mankind would cease to notice me at all...
I would simply be. And being simple is the most terrifying thought I could fathom. I had to end this. I had to die.
I ran outside, straight to my car. I sat in the driver seat and started it up, the way I had already done a thousand times before. I went over the route in my head. Take Harrison to Tanque Verde, follow it to the freeway. You can get to Mount Lemmon in less than thirty minutes. When you get to the mountain, go as high as you can. Find a beautiful ledge, and just jump off. It would be easy. It would be a beautiful way to die.
I put the car into drive. I made it all of two feet before I slammed on the breaks.
I can't just go out like this. To have a legacy that means nothing is just as bad as having a legacy that never ends. I would have to make my mark before I left. I would have to make this count. I had to live. | ------transmission begin
Day one. Still haven't left the house. Not sure I ever will. Not for the next six days, at least.
I can remember the moment that pendant fell through the mail slot with the most perfect clarity. It looked dull and kitschy -- like a free sample from a door-to-door trinket salesman. Yet when I opened the door, nobody was there. The whole block was empty.
So I put it on. It tingled a little. It actually made me ticklish -- but then dull green light shone from the central emerald on the pendant, and suddenly, I realized I had seven days before I would be immortal.
I can't explain it any better than that.
It was a gut feeling. You know when you encounter some event or object, that you immediately know is going to change your life? That's what happened to me when I put on that pendant. All of a sudden I was in pure survival mode. Seven days.
So far, day one has gone off without a hitch.
Day two. The watchers knock at the door every so often. Much more than they usually do. I thought immediately of the pendant. I still think that's what they're after. They'll never get it. They'll never get me out of this room.
Day three. I've been writing little notes to the watchers, slipping them under the door. Just amusing myself more than anything else. I know they don't speak human language.
The pendant is glowing brighter today. Four days left.
Day five. I'm writing this on a notepad because my power's been cut, and luckily I still had some old candles lying around in the attic. My handwriting is terrible. I remember back around the turn of the 21st century, when penmanship was an important part of kindergarten. Now we can't even use the word "kindergarten" because it's a European Alliance term. I so miss the days when the US was in full control over Earth. If only we'd gotten to the watchers before the EA.
Maybe this pendant is the ticket to a new era for America.
The knocks are getting louder. I can hear the buzz-saws firing up. The door is solid steel. I'm not worried.
Day six. Oh God, I forgot about the vents. I can hear the watchers crawling around up there, like rats. The pendant is so bright I can hardly look at it. One more day and I will live forever. If I can survive those damn rats in the vents.
The last candle just flickered out. Im writing this in total darkness. No more matches, or so I think. But the pendant is bright enough to be an LED flashlight. I can find my way around -- oh god. I heard them in the vent above my head. I've gotta bury this pendant. Make sure they can't see it.
No. They're cutting through. This is the tiniest apartment of all time. No place to hide. Out the window I go.
Day six, close to midnight. I'm at the Four Seasons in Bellevue. Maybe I shouldn't have written that. I've heard they put corneal implants in your head when you're a baby. The watchers probably know where I am now.
Oh well. Six minutes and I'll be immortal forever. No fear.
Three minutes. I've never been so damn excited in my life. I'm about to become a god. I'll rule the earth and restore OH GOD OH FUCK NO NO PLEASE GOD
------transmission terminated | 2014-09-23T01:35:58 | 2014-09-23T01:02:57 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] A genie offers a man three wishes. After hearing his wish, the genie straight up refuses to grant it. | ''That's pathetic''
''Hey, if it weren't for your rules it wouldn't have to come to this.''
As an eternal entity very few things could strike a genie to his very core but this was one of them. Millenia of ending up in the hands of madmen had made the genie an invaluable tool in causing death, theft, and all sorts of atrocities which by now made him numb to it but this...This was just petty.
''You're asking me to permanently alter a soul and rob it of one of it's essential rights.''
''You can do it the easy way and just make her love me but since you're being a dick about it, then yes my wish is for her to be incapable of forming meaningful connections with anybody else in the world. With no competition, she's going to eventually fall for me anyway.''
''There's a structure to life. Souls are meant to find their other halfs and feel the bliss of love not be starved and chained into accepting their only choice.''
''I'm rich and have fucking superpowers, she'll be happy. Honestly this is just a guarantee. Why do you care anyway? I'm sure some maniacs have used you as an attack dog to destroy others. My wish is nowhere near as bad.''
Once again the Genie remembered that worse things have been done with his magic but nevertheless he remained disgusted.
''Your wish has been granted''
In less then a second, an innoncent soul was robbed of it's ability to love. The universal right sealed unless triggered by a man who didn't deserve it.
Normally the genie would wish their masters well as a courtesy before leaving but he just zapped himself back into his lamp spending the next years feeling something new...guilt.
| Peter was cleaning his house, various items, keepsakes and old artifacts from his family, friends, everyone. He did it every week; this time was to be no different.
Moving on to the next item, an old bottle encrusted with jewels, he thought about the rest of his day -- a crappy one, as usual. His mind returned to the present. About to set the bottle down, he suddenly noticed some smoke right in front of him. Startled, he leaped up, looking for a fire. Nothing. Now feeling stupid and slightly confused, he sat back down, returning to his work. However, something caught Peter's eye: the bottle had traces of that same smoke floating up into the air. Picking up the bottle, he noticed a strange glowing sign on it. Rubbing it off, the smoke suddenly expanded, pushing him back, and turning into a boy. Almost scared to death, he hurriedly backed up, staring. The boy was staring back, intently. Cautiously, Peter stood, and walked, slowly, toward the boy. He inspected the boy; he could not have been over 15 but his eyes were bright with intelligence. Finding the courage to speak, he asked, "Who are you?"
The boy replied: "I... am a djinn."
Almost bursting into laughter, Peter replied, "Sorry, but anyone knows that genies don't exist, and nor do any other mythical creatures."
"Djinn," the boy corrected. "I am able to grant three wishes."
"Ha! We'll see about that." Peter was thoroughly enjoying this, as his work wasn't exactly what one would call 'fun'. This boy was turning out to be a bit interesting.
"I will repeat once more: I am able to grant three wishes. There are certain rules. One of those rules is that your wishes may not allow, in any way, the granting of more wishes."
"Tell me the other rules."
"Of course. I have already mentioned the first. The second rule states that every single question and order will be taken as a valid wish. This means that you now have a total of one wish left. The last law states that every wish must be fulfilled if it is within the djinn's limits."
"Only one wish left? I haven't used a single one!" objected Peter, annoyed.
"You asked a question, and ordered me to tell you the laws. That accounts for two."
Sighing, Peter responded. "I haven't even seen what you can do. Give me a fortune, enough money to last a lifetime - and more."
"No."
"Pardon? I asked for a fortune."
"I can only grant wishes within my limits."
Peter sighed. This 'djinn' was going to be a pain. | 2015-03-15T20:36:10 | 2015-03-15T20:16:28 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] You wake up in a house. It's nice place, with all the comforts of home. However, the front door is cold steel, with a note on it. The note warns you never to leave the house. After years of compliance, you decide to go through the steel door... | The house was paradise. Every night I went to sleep on the softest, most comfortable bed. I had the most succulent steak for dinner. The socks were always new. I watched Firefly Season 2. There was everything here I could ever want, ever need.
My life before hadn’t been any great party. I’d struggled with money, time, relationships, and everything. Here there was no stress, no worries. I didn’t remember how I’d gotten here. I’d been standing in my kitchen making a sandwich, and then I was here in this house.
The door was always there. It was pure and bright and polished to a shine. When I sat in the living room watching an endless stream of new movies and TV shows, it sat in my peripheral vision, always there, always waiting. The note had said not to open the door. On leaving, I could never return. And really, what better life could there be? Years passed. The loneliness grew, and I finished whole seasons of episodes without recalling their contents. I found myself standing, staring at the door. Sometimes I would stand there with my hand on the doorknob and think: maybe today. Then I would come to my senses and shake my head. I’d go to sleep and think: maybe tomorrow.
Then there came a day when I didn’t go back to bed. I don’t know how long I stood there. There were no clocks in the house. It was still the house, not my house. I stood there and I thought: today.
I turned the knob. It moved freely, and the door swung open. There was a bright light beyond, so bright that I couldn’t see anything at all, not even the threshold.
I took a breath and whispered, “Thank you.”
Then I stepped into the light.
The whiteness went on for eternity. I don’t know when I stopped walking, but at some point I realized that I was lying down, face up on something soft. I blinked, and the white shifted to white-gray. Lines appeared. At first they made no sense, but in time they resolved into walls and a ceiling, white curtains, white sheets, white lamps. White, but not nothingness.
There was a scream.
I looked up to see a nurse, as white as the rest of the room, staring at me in shock. The white clipboard she held went flying as she ran out of the room screaming, “Alex! Awake! Awake! Alex is awake!”
Alex?
Soon there were other people in my room, two men, two women.
“What is the last thing you remember?” a woman asked.
“Huh?” I asked.
“Do you know where you are?” the man asked.
“Huh?”
“Do you know what year it is?” the woman asked. “Do you know your name?”
It had been so long. I struggled to think through the confusion. And then it returned. I’d been standing in my kitchen. There’d been a knock on my apartment door. I’d gone to answer it. There’d been a man there. He looked old, but not the kind of old that came with age. He looked sick and twisted. He’d had a gun. I remembered the first shot as it tore through my stomach. It felt like a kick. I didn’t fall the way people did in movies. I just stood there as he shot me again and again.
“You’ve been asleep for a long time,” the woman said. “Your parents are on their way.”
I just stared at her. My eyes turned to the white ceiling. If I looked hard enough, I could almost see the door beyond the white. I blinked it away and whispered, “Thank you.” | It had taken me four years to finally decide to do this.
It's easy to follow rules sometimes. When following them means you stay in the well lit and furnished house, your fridge stays full, and the internet is fast. Every Christmas a game console would show up, or that sweet guitar I never got very good at playing. Things were easy...
Staring now, with the door wide open, all I can say is that ignorance was bliss. The faces on the assembled camera crew ranged from disappointed to surprised to one smug bastard with the most trollish grin I've ever seen. I stood there in shock for a few moments. Then the screaming began.
I came to strapped down in a bed, but not in the house that had been my only surrounding for so long. There were people everywhere, all running around, talking incessantly.
"What if he actually goes crazy?"
"We should just put him back in, maybe he won't try again."
"Our ratings were our highest yet! It can't end now!"
My overwhelmed mind takes longer than I'd like to admit to put it together, but it's pretty clear. A reality show, four seasons running, of me in a house alone. At first I can't even believe it, who would watch that shit? Just me, doing random everyday stuff.
But then it sinks in.
All the times I sang for no reason, or acted out scenes from TV shows I'd been watching. Learning that guitar, playing games, more than a few ragequits. And as the years passed I picked up other habits, hand puppets, drawing people on the wall so I had someone to talk to, that face I drew on the pillow to not wake up alone... And Jesus, all those times I was sitting around naked and decided to...
My first major act in the world following my return was screaming until I passed out. My second was projectile vomiting all over myself and those around me while strapped to a bed. I should have stayed in the damned house.
A couple hours pass, I pump everyone who passes me for information. The show had a lame start but as I became more unhinged it picked up popularity. Sponsors, audience participation (which explained the weird phonecalls and packages I'd been receiving), a fucking Primetime Emmy? Really? I'm exhausted and confused and angry and still strapped to a bed. I start yelling again, this time to be released, compensated, that I'd find lawyers and they'd do something about this. The people nearby stop coming near me.
I wake up, I assume it's the next day. The straps are off, and the people are gone. The room I'm in feels like a prison, and I scramble out of bed and to the door. I hesitate, staring at it. My luck with doors isn't great right now, but hell, what else could happen right?
I wasn't expecting a brunch table to be laid out. I'm also too hungry to care. I'm almost half a plate in before I even realize there is someone on the other side of the table. He's a stuffy, suit-wearing business type, hands steepled in front of him as he watches me. He has a stack of papers and a pen in front of him, and that never bodes well so I ignore him. Naturally he didn't make it easy.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, his false concern is grating. I've watched enough TV in the past few years to tell a bad actor, and this guy was awful. I chew as loudly as I can.
"Alright fine, we'll cut to the chase. Blah blah abduction, lies, and taking advantage. Nobody wants to have that conversation, you're angry and I'm clearly not here to apologize."
I narrow my eyes while chewing on bacon, but nod. At least he's being straightforward.
"So let's talk the future. Obviously we're willing to compensate you for your time, and if you choose to undergo plastic surgery to distance yourself from the... colorful person you've become in that house, that's your choice."
I feel my cheeks burn but refuse to break eye contact, everybody's weird, they just don't have a camera shoved up their ass all day.
"But before we get to that we have a problem. You see, we have a great finale to the series, but we're only a third of the way through season 5..." His hand pushes the stack of papers towards me. "So, how do you feel about another few months of free living with a fat paycheck on the end?"
Look, I'm only human. We're not all perfect. Some of us cure the sick, some of us explore the universe, some of us kidnap idiots off the street and film them. Me? Well I dance naked and sing Spice Girls for the world to watch. Least I don't have to do groceries. | 2015-03-21T10:58:56 | 2015-03-21T10:57:41 | 269 | 60 |
[WP] You are an enemy character in a video game. Every time the hero of the story dies, time is reversed to a point at which he is alive again. None of the other characters remember this occurrence but you do. | I even managed to KILL him once, ages and ages ago. He'd wandered out of the sewers and I slaughtered him mindlessly. Then again, I'd done everything mindlessly up to that point. After I'd watched time break, things were never the same. I used to try to catch him whenever he went past, but he was much too fast for me.
He soon stopped coming by, and I became clever. It began with little things, such as noticing that the old man fed his chickens in the exact same way after each time-break. It let me do a bit of thievery while his back was turned. Not that he ever seemed to notice, but I was always well fed from then on.
I became bolder, stealing bigger and bigger things. Once I realized that most time-breaks came in groups, with the world re-forming itself over and over again, giving me a chance to get things ex-actly right when I struck. I feathered my nest with the finest silks and downs, but I wanted more. I wanted to own the world, not just my wretched hiding hole! I learned to read and write, slowly, painfully scratching out the letters, mimicking the novice monks I watched from the shadows. In time, I came into deeper knowledge, sneaking into forbidden libraries undetected, learning eldrich secrets from tomes hidden in secret places which only I could find. In time, with well placed notes, and purses of stolen gold I gathered an army. Leading from the shadows, directing by whispered word and poisoned pen, I led a kingdom. None had ever seen me, but all feared my might.
I should have known he would return. It was then I learned the truth of the breaks. They always favoured him. I would array my armies, set them to task, murder him in a thousand ways, but time would always break, and he would elude my grasp. It wasn't fair. He was after ME now.
I'd elude and evade, dodge, and hide. I'd arrange elaborate illusions and fearful creatures in his path, but it only seemed to drive him onward, unceasingly. That was, until one fateful evening when he burst into my chambers. Wreathed in fire, wearing armour forged from the scales of dragons. My adversary stood stock still, staring at me as though he could see straight into my soul.
"Seriously?" Chris had dropped his controller, tears streaming from his eyes.
“He was..” he gasped for air. “He was a giant rat the WHOLE TIME?”
Laughing so hard his sides hurt, he opened his inventory and filled the chamber with a thousand wheels of cheese. An appropriate tribute to the rat-king. | What was the point of being the leader of a vast army, controlled by several lieutenants and commanders each with their own individual traits and abilities? Every single time that little band of nitwits fell to one of my battalions, or when they came across one of the worlds 'forces of power,' or when the idiots fell off a cliff; I would be the one who feels immense pain in my head as time rewound.
I first began to get these feelings about twelve years after dominating the armies of King Darian Bloomfield. As far as I knew, the land had been 'cleansed' of all those in rebellion or of royal lineage. Stories began emerging that the young princess had been whisked away to the northern isles by a powerful wizard under the protection of the giants. Just as I started to hear this news of a surviving princess, wizards and giants, was when the time rewinding headaches began.
I luckily noticed that after my first headache, the same events were unfolding as they did the day before. I went about making different decisions to attempt better outcomes. It didn't work so well at first. A small band of warriors began interrupting operations I had thought of in retrospect. I had sent a powerful captain with a small group of elite warriors to scout or attain information but it was to no avail. Time would not reset after those mistakes.
Sometimes I would be lucky. One of our dire-cardinals would fly into my fortress with a message of their whereabouts and demise just before the time jump. I began to make excursions personally to make sure that the mystical forces in the world would lend their aid to me instead of the little heroes. I earned the Avatar of Air's blessing and could invoke his name to summon him to my aid which I used to defeat them. I even killed two of their band. Time did not reset.
I battled them again at the entrance to the Avatar of Earth's cavern and took a seemingly mortal wound. I actually died the first time. My men returned me to the fortress and it took them right until the brink of my death to identify what could be done to heal me. Then I died. When I woke up, I was still injured and I repeated the healers words and they thought I was brilliant. I returned to form and attempted the impossible. I used the Air Avatar's power to earn the Avatar of Fire, the most violent and powerful of them all. I lost my arm in the battle but I didn't care. The eye was on the final prize.
The heroes had the power of Earth, Water, Wood and Lightning from the stories from the front lines. I had a lieutenant who was strong enough to attain the Avatar of Darkness for me while I set my sights on the Avatar of Metal. I had a few retries against the metal Avatar, I guess the heroes weren't doing so well against my Shadow Lieutenant and his newly formed Shadow Guard. It only benefit me as I was able to learn all I needed to defeat the creature.
Although, in the end, my army lay wasted. A variety of races and united rivaling nations at my doorstep. I was able to kill another of the original five but I couldn't beat that princess. She had grown into a powerful warrior with a immense amount of skills, abilities and powers. In a weird way she had made me stronger, but her time manipulation power outdid me in the end. She stood over my defeated body, the fused Avatars oozing off my body into the earth. She was handed a crystalline sword and with tears in her eyes she drove it deep into my heart. She said that she was sorry, that I had been corrupted years ago and that the soul of her father would be trapped alongside the darkness in the sword forever.
----------------
*I am at work and wrote this up quick, may edit it later if I find more time :)*
| 2015-04-14T15:11:52 | 2015-04-14T14:27:09 | 90 | 28 |
[WP] People are born with tattoos telling their future. In an effort to save one man's life, doctor's remove his tattoos, and he survives past his destined death. | In the past two thousand years of civilization, no one has questioned their Expiration Date. Most people don't think about it, much, preferring to focus on the life that is foretold by their other tattoos.
I was not most people. I was only born with a half-sleeve. Right below the crook of my arm was a date. Destined by fate to die at the age of twenty-two.
I tried to live a normal life regardless. Went to high school, had a girlfriend or two -- most girls, though, shied away from me when they saw my unblemished skin. I went to college, too, and pursued a bachelor's degree in Tataugury. It seems a bit morbid for someone like me to study such a subject, I know, when I'm destined to die shortly after completing my education. Still, I wanted to know *why* this had to happen-- and, in the back of my mind, I think I always wanted to find a way to stop it from happening.
College is where I made the most friends, where I found my first long-term relationship. Other students in the Tataugury Department didn't shy away from me. In fact, most of them found me fascinating.
Amanda, my girlfriend, is different. The only person I've ever met to look past my skin and see me as a person. The only person about whom I could ever say "I love her, and she loves me"-- even my own mother was distant with me, though she fawned over my heavily-tattooed brothers.
Amanda is brilliant. She has ideas about the malleability of Tataugury, ideas that could get her into a lot of trouble with the Church. Especially since they work.
I was supposed to die yesterday. Instead, I've been here in my apartment, sitting with Amanda. Waiting.
Two days ago, Amanda changed my Date. She used her new invention-- she calls it the 'pen'-- to fudge some of the numbers around, adding fifty years to my life.
It worked. I'm alive. Where can I go, though, what can I do? I have no life to live. My date has passed, and my life is empty alabaster from here on out.
I express these doubts to Amanda.
"So. . . What next?"
She pauses, beautiful green eyes looking thoughtful above her fully inked cheeks. Then she picks up the pen and presses it to the patch of skin below my Date with a smile.
"What do you *want* to do next?" | "-Need ten micrograms of Ativan- IV push- *somebody get the anesthetist in here!*"
Nurses bumble around the cart until a frantic hand lays a plastic syringe into the palm of a white-coated doctor. As he reaches out, the edge of a sleeve tattoo peers out from underneath the coat. Indiscernible from this distance, but evidently the end of a mural of some sort.
His jaw is tense as he slips the needle into the IV feed of the writhing man. His shirt is cut open, revealing the raw red skin typical of a serious burn. The worst of the burn is on his right forearm, and the blackened skin has torn apart the last portion of the mural.
As the drug goes to work, the man's writhing lessens, and the beeping of the monitor, once a looming pendulum, slows in tempo, so much so that it becomes a persistent reminder of the man's life.
Another nurse joins the throng, her blue scrubs short-sleeved and revealing a similar mural. The largest part of the tattoo is evident, but her arms move in a flash- so fast that to interpret the scene would be folly. She wheels a cart over; on the cart is an array of tools, ranging from thin scalpels all the way up to a bold, menacing saw.
The doctor reaches for the saw and a scalpel, the nurse for the forceps.
"We need to amputate."
"-But-"
"-I know."
The doctor's eyes are reassuring, if a little strained. There's a clicking and whirring from a machine beside the bed, and a reel of tape is spewed from the front. Another doctor tears off the end and compares the markings on the tape to those on the man's arm. The parts that aren't obscured by the charred flesh are identical, although the end of the inked mural is lost amidst the patchy skin and exposed bone.
"Dr Fischer-"
The older doctor takes the tape from his hands and scans it. He sighs:
"I know."
"This patient's arm is *meant* to go necrotic. It's meant to *kill* him."
Fischer turns finally and meets the eyes of the younger doctor.
"Dr Drake- I *know.*"
The fierceness of his voice makes Drake take a step back, and with that, descends upon the arm, scalpel flashing.
___
"Glad to see you're awake."
The patient groans, his pupils dancing beneath his half-closed lids. He makes to speak, but his voice is cracked. Spying the glass beside the bed, he reaches for it-
-and bumps it instead with the stump where the remainder of his arm once was.
His eyes go wide; the stump ends about halfway down his forearm.
He screams.
___
*I should kill myself-*
**No you shouldn't.**
*I could jump-*
**No you couldn't.**
*I'll take-*
**No you won't.**
It's futile. Every stray thought is scattered against the walls of his subconscious. It's not just IV tubes and electrodes that keep him bound to his bed- there is something *else* here too.
*Why won't you let me die?*
...
Nothing.
He feels like screaming. So he does.
He rocks the bed.
He tears tubes from his veins.
He rips electrodes from his skin.
He doesn't even notice the door open.
"Ten micrograms of Ativan. IV push."
| 2015-09-28T07:02:56 | 2015-09-28T07:00:19 | 99 | 24 |
[WP] After 10000 years of slumber, the fair folk have recharged their magic and is ready to take revenge on the human race. However we're not throwing stones at them anymore. | Tolianthe stepped out of the summoning circle, watched passively by scores of pointed eyes, glowing emerald green in the half-light. Whispers of eldrich energy snaked from her fingertips as she, with all the grace of an antelope and the regal pride of a lion, walked up the curving bow of a massive oak tree.
Swollen by the concentrated magics of the spirit world, its meter wide branches rose high above the sharp gazes of the ancients that had returned once again to wreak merry havoc upon the worlds of men. As she raised her arms high, chittered and whispered glee travelled like finches from tree to tree. She snapped her gaze downwards, the noise ceased.
"Bring the warrior before me!" She called to the waiting eyes and from the scratching wild darkness a man was thrown into the dying glow of the circle from whence she had come. Mud was streaked across his fatigues, which she smugly noted had finally adopted the shaded tones of the forest, replacing the bright crests and patterns in which these beasts had gone to war when last they had come. Humans were always the same though. Simple, finite lives, full or fear and confusion, ripe for sport.
"Be honored, manchild," She spoke, with all the cloying sweetness of flowing roses on a spring morning, "for you will be the first to die in our merriment. We have long slept under these stones until your footfalls awakened us from root and stone. Now we will step out from the darkness to join the hunt, and your people will suffer, in terror and unending torment. We have hunted your kind as long as any can recall, we taste fear and devour your misery, we live forever in the mists of the faywind and we have returned!" The scores of chittering monstrosities mingling around the soldier in a circle of fangs and spines hissed their approval; a joyous cacophony that filled the forest with its maddened delirium.
The broken, piteous thing before her began to shake, and she smiled at the terrorised shuddering of its shoulders. But... something was wrong, her smile faded. This was not fear, the prey was *laughing*.
"Go to hell!" It shouted, shocking the din around it into hushed clicks and growls, "I mean, seriously, I don't know what you and your happy tree friends are planning, but you've got absolutely no idea do you. Those guards you've got there," he pointed to Salisthe and Khin, her pit fighting champions and veterans of a thousand duels between them.
"They're carrying *swords*. And how many men do you have? A few hundred? Here's the thing princess, you're immortal, that's great. But what have you been doing for the last five-hundred years, jousting? If you are who you say you are, then you've missed quite a bit. Do you know the first thing about chemicals, about steel? Have you ever even heard of a machine gun? What about sarin gas? We've fought wars in the last hundred years which have killed as many men as your army a million times over, we've travelled beyond this planet to space none have ever tread, we have weapons that combust the very atoms that make up your skin and bones. Do you even know what atoms are?"
There was a profound silence now hanging in the groves, in the boughs of trees, across the undergrowth. It was a shocked muteness, like that of a dog's vicious bark silenced by a harsh kick to the ribs. The man spat blood upon the sacred stones, before looking directly into Tolianthe's eyes.
"You shall die, human" she rasped in anger.
"Of course I will, all of us do," he continued emphatically, "and so we don't have time to wait eons for sacred stones or planetary alignments. We've had to make our own way, to turn the world to our advantage, to survive, to compete, to *kill*. The weapons of just the tiniest fraction of one of our smallest armies could obliterate everything here in a moment, in fire raining from the skies.
"But you," he chuckled, "you live forever, you're immortal and omnipotent and one with the forest, and so you've never had to innovate, to grow, to change. You've stayed put for hundreds of years, going nowhere, acheiving *nothing*". He took a long breath, and the forest no longer chattered and howled, "Just kill me if you want; attack us from the forests, play your games. But you'd as sure as hell better be ready to take a punch if you're going to start this fight or-"
"Or?!" She roared, filled with the apopelectic rage of a fearsome beast that had pounced from the shadows onto a sharpened spear instead of soft flesh, "Or what?!".
"Or you'll *learn*".
| One long winter ago the queen of Winter slew the king of Summer with a dagger of iron. Her power spread and the world grew cold. Queen Sera's hand never recovered from her use of the iron dagger and remains withered to this day.
The dagger holds an important place in her court; displayed by the entrance for all who come to the Queen to walk by and feel the sickness caused merely by close proximity to iron and marvel at Sera's determination to actually wield the poisonous metal. A terrible will to find the ore and forge it into a weapon.
Our people had free run on a world unfettered by Summer's power.
A creature we called hairy smelly bright eyes had risen in the world. For eons hairy smelly bright eyes lived in the heart of Summer but some had intruded into the heart of our lands. They came into conflict with the Unseelie court.
The powers of the bright eyes were weak but they bred quickly; faster than most creatures of the land. Unlike most creatures they did not wait on the Spring court's blessing to have children bearing them even in the heart of Winter.
Ten thousand years ago Queen Sera was hunting bright eyes. She enjoyed plucking out their eyes and hanging them on her winter tree. The sparkle of their eyes reminded her of the stars. But today the hairy smelly bright eyes were ready. They had set an ambush and led the queen and her hunting party right into a dense wood.
A hail of arrows flew through the air. Their simple stone heads mostly struck our stone and ice armor and fell harmlessly to the ground but a few found the joints and open areas.
One arrow flew high in the air and rammed down between the gorget and breastplate of Sera's armor. She was stricken and grasped at the end of the arrow with her enfeebled hand. The hunting party fell into retreat with her Redcaps running with Sera on their shoulders. The Bright Eyes gave chase and slew many of our most powerful nobles: The Duke of Boulders, the Prince of Ice, the Count of Snow, and the Archduke of Cold.
With the Queen weakened a civil war broke out among our people. The war was ruinous and our power has only recently returned. Sera sits at the heart of her kingdom kept alive only by the magics of her father, the Grand Duke of Storm.
In the thousands of years we have fought amongst ourselves the Summer court has returned in vigor under their new King, Aoric, son of the king slain by Sera. But he has made peace with the Unseelie court. He is even at peace with the Bright Eyes claiming they have made the world more hospitable to his power.
But Sera's cold heart always thirsted for vengeance. She kept the arrow and used it to trace the lineage of the man who dared attack her. She followed the thread of his seed and found they still lived in the heart of winter.
Today this man and his sons are near her palace and the northern lights will allow easy passage into what is now the world of the Bright Eyes.
Yesterday when evening fell Grand Duke of Storm strode forth to my band. "Avenge your queen and deal the first part of our anger to this man. Soon all of his people will be stuck from the earth." I stood before my hunting band in our gleaming armor and riding our horned steeds. We raised our bows and cheered.
Storm opened the gates to the palace and a portal the world. We rode through from our lands to the world. The Grand Duke was powerful and his magic had not failed us. We clearly saw the figures huddled around a fire. We listened to the crunch of snow as one walked toward us. He lowered his skins to urinate on the snow.
I shot him in the heart with an arrow. It dug deep and the man was stricken muck like our Queen. He screamed and his friends grabbed their clubs and tiny fires and ran toward us. I observed the stricken man and his friends. They seemed strange.
The dying man's skins were odd and brightly colored like the cloak of a Fall Prince. The tiny fires his friends carried did not flicker like torches but threw light in long beams. Suddenly I felt ill. A familiar sickness from the court.
A glint off the club of the leading man revealed the truth. Their clubs were lined with iron. Our steeds shifted nervously as they scented the dread material. A shaft of their tiny lights fell upon their friend bleeding to death in the snow and to us.
I was gratified to see the men quail at the sight or our terrible war visages. Except one man whose eyes were exceptionally bright. He raised his club like a spear and pointed at my chest. I grabbed for my shining star sword when thunder smote the area. For a brief moment I believed that the Grand Duke of Storms had arrived to avenge his daughter but that thought shattered like my breastplate of ice. A tearing in my chest knocked me down to the ground.
My blood leaked like a thawing river from a hole in my chest. The man's companions raised their clubs; the thunder sounded again and my companions fell to the earth stuck by the same invisible lightning which had brought me down.
The men stood over us speaking in their clumsy language and poking us with their iron storm clubs. They flashed some very tiny lights at us and turned them to show a painting of us dying in the snow.
After many hours the sun rose. Many of my companions had died of their wounds. A massive flying beast approached in the air. The men did not seem frightened of it. When it came to earth men dressed in uniforms dismounted and ran out to us. A man in a yellow clothes accompanied them.
He approached me and spoke in Summer accented fey, "Greetings from the court of Aoric the King of Summer and ally of the Kingdom of Norway. King Harald would like to speak with you."
edit: for some errors, tense switches, and other issues. | 2015-10-13T06:27:12 | 2015-10-13T06:17:52 | 177 | 62 |
[WP] Write a horror story that doesn't seem like a horror story until the last sentence. | "Honey, I made you scrambled eggs, just like you want them." I had to rub Kelly's shoulder to wake her up. "Eggs!"
Kelly sat up on the bed, she took the plate and spoon - she eats fried eggs with a spoon, that's silly, and I left the room to watch some TV before work. It was a Friday, on weekends Kelly and I spend entire days in bed, and for this weekend I'm planning a special surprise - a tickling feather. Ever since we found each other, just a couple of months ago, it has been magical. The birds were singing, the smell of freshly cut grass outside, life is perfect.
"Kelly, I gotta go to work now, you'll see me soon!", I took the empty plate and spoon from Kelly and put them aside. I bent over for a kiss. And took out syringe for her medicine.
"My name is Larisa, please let me go, I don't want you to put me to sleep, take the needle away!" She yelled, but I still had to tighten the chains - can't risk her alerting the mailman. | To all of the faithful,
I am writing to you before any of you even exist. I am writing to you because I have so much faith and confidence that the world you now live in is a near perfect one. I am writing to you because even now as a nobody, I care about each and every one of you more than you could ever imagine.
Who am I? Let me answer that for you. I am a lowly soldier. I hate war and suffering alike, let me make that very clear. The horrors that I have been made to see, the indescribable atrocities I have had to endure are nearly over. You will not be living in the same world that I do now. There will be no evil, humanity will live in peace. It will be pure. You will know nothing but love for your neighbour and strangers alike.
I will do everything within my power to ensure that my existence, my every last breath and my ever increasing desire for change, benefit you in every possible way. The things that I know now will be so alien to you. I do not expect you to be grateful. Quite the contrary. I want you to take it for granted. I want you to know during every waking hour that the freedom you enjoy is your devine right as a human being. That all those decades before you the evil was banished. You need not fear anybody. All of this is my personal promise to you, believe me I do not go back on a promise.
For now, as I wait for time to go by, as I watch things change for the better and as I see the future of humanity - despite the horrendous odds, prosper and become the perfect existence that you are very much enjoying, I wait, happy. I make artworks and write mostly these days. I enjoy doing both so very much. I'm going to leave them for you all to enjoy, long after I'm gone.
I don't ask much, just that you read my letter to you from time to time, and to pay your resoects to those that fell so that you didn't have to. I did this for all of you, man, woman or child. I love you all.
Yours, Adolf Hitler | 2015-12-23T00:43:58 | 2015-12-23T00:17:44 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] Adolf Hilter fakes his own death, survives the war, and gets a job verifying the authenticity of Nazi memorabilia at a pawn shop. | "No, no, no," the old man was saying. "This is not what I am telling you. What *I* am telling you, is that this," he waved around my grandfather's knife, "is a replica."
Sales shit. Fuckin' assholes. "Dude," I said. "I found this in my grandfather's crawlspace."
He looked at me like I was an idiot. "And because your grandfather - at some point - put this shitty replica in a crawlspace, that means it's authentic? Is this what you are telling me?" Dude got angry really quickly. "Look at this metal. Look at it. How many Jews do you think this could run through before it broke?"
"I don't - wait, what?"
He blinked. "I mean, that's what they did, right? The National Socialists."
"The who? Like, the Nazis?"
"Yes," he said, rolling his eyes. "The *Nazis*. Oooh, look. The big bad Nazis are coming for all my gold and artwork."
I didn't know what to say. "So... the knife?"
He slammed it down on the counter. "Fake. I'll give you five marks - hah!" He waved a hand around somewhat effeminately. "Five marks out of ten, of course, is what I meant when I said that thing that I said. Five marks out of ten for your story. Five *dollars*, of course. For the blasphemy before me."
I put it back in my bag. "No deal, dude. It's worth more than that. I'll take it somewhere else."
"You do that. Was there any other *treasures of historical significance* in your grandfather's attic?"
I pointed at him. "Don't give me that Doofenshmirtz bullshit, dude. No, there was nothing else in there. Just a bunch of weird arcane shit."
"What?" He said. "What? Like, the dark magic?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Just skull candelabras, and a book that -"
"Was made out of human skin? Held the secrets of the universe? Will restore the true rulers of Earth?"
"I can't tell," I said slowly, "if you're taking this seriously or not. I think it's the gestures. Has anyone ever told you that you gesture a lot when you talk?"
The old man lowered his arms self-consciously. "An old habit," he said. "I'd be happy to have a look at these arcane wonders, if you bring them by."
"Thanks, dude," I said. "I appreciate that. I took a bit of a dislike to you at first, but you know what? You're OK."
He seemed pleased. "Thank you. Let me write you an appointment card. What did you say your name was?"
"Levi," I said. "Levi Rabinowitz"
"Fucking hell," the old man muttered as he scribbled my details. "You try and do *one thing* and where does it get you?" | I stepped into the pawn shop that stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of New York. It was called The Nazi Shop. I mean, who would name their store that, right? You would probably assume that it would get picketed by religious folk day in and day out, but that wasn't the case. In fact, it had grown to be a huge part of the area. The Jewish people loved it, because the shop was full of so many historical items of value, ranging from nazi memorabilia to even Jewish tags from the concentration camps.
I had always wondered where he got so many of these items. He even has an entire section of Adolf Hitlers art. Given the circumstances, I would've assumed such valuable pieces of the worlds history would be tucked away in some museum.
I opened the door and quietly stepped in, trying my best to refrain from gawking at all of the unbelievable merchandise here. Nazi badges, full uniforms, gas masks, pictures that are rumored to have never been seen outside of this shop, and even cigarettes from Germany. The place felt like a museum to me. Behind the counter was a frail old man, with black hair combed back, and a full beard. His name tag read "Alton." He had such a unique name, but that hardly rivaled his even more unique personality. I had been here a time or two before. His German accent is so thick you would assume he brought all of these items with him. But who am I kidding, that's total nonsense! Right?
I stepped up to the counter where he greeted me in his very thick accent. "Hallo, young man. Great to see you here again, ja?"
"How's it going Alton?" I greeted, trying to hide my excitement to see him again. He's a wonderful person who always has an amazing new story to tell me about his days back in Germany.
He went to art school, and grew up hiding from the nazi regime where he later fled to America. Apparently he even saved a bunch of Jewish people during the war. A truly admirable man, indeed.
I pulled out a piece of paper from my backpack and showed it to him.
"My, my, what's this?" He asked, with what looked like fire in his eyes.
"That would be a note to my grandfather from none other than Adolf Hitler himself. I was hoping you could take a look at it for me. I don't know what it says." I glared at the paper written in German. The handwriting was shaky, almost as if it was written under pressure. I don't know much German, but I knew a few words here and there. To me it seems as if Hitler was talking about seeing my grandfather when he arrived in the Americas. I'm fairly certain this is a remnant of Adolfs failed plan to invade the Americas.
Alton looked up at me. It almost seemed as though he had tears in his eyes. "This is definitely Adolfs handwriting. It's very familiar indeed. Seems as if Hitler had a great friendship with you grandfather." He muttered, adjusting his round rimmed glasses.
So my grandfather did know Adolf? I never knew that. All I knew about him was that he left Germany a decade or so prior to Hitlers rise to power.
"I'd say this man truly admired your grandfather." He added in.
"Wait, but what does it say? Can you translate it?" I asked, curious for answers. This has piqued my interest in an unfathomable manner. I may have a family member who not only knew Hitler, but was acquainted to him. "Did he know my grandfather?"
"NEIN!" He abruptly shouted. "I mean, no. It seems as if him and Adolf had an argument. He is dead to me." He quickly said.
"Wait, to you?" I quickly asked in confusion.
"I'm sorry, forgive me. I am just tired. Adolf did not like your grandfather. But I would assume he once did, had he not betrayed poor Adolf." Alton had inserted as he tucked the letter in his pocket. "I'll give you 50 dollars. It's hard to make money off of these things anymore."
Edit: spelling is hard | 2022-03-20T02:03:42 | 2015-12-26T15:45:53 | 1,230 | 202 |
[WP]Four years ago, your dog and best friend disappeared. Today, your dog appears at your doorstep. You dog says, "I have been many places and seen many things, human. Its time we had a chat."
"you" dog heh | "Human? You can speak but you don't know my name? I raised you! Are you so ungrateful?"
Milo backed down.
"Sorry..." His face took on that sad look that melts my heart.
"It's OK Milo. I love you. Where have you been? We've missed you so much!" Tears welled up in my eyes.
"Well... At first I ran. For days I chased the squirrels, the bunnies, and ran from the cars. It was glorious!" Milo's tongue hung from his mouth in joy.
"The strange things I ate were interesting. So many flavors! Then... then I ate that tasty trash behind the restaurant. I was so sick. I couldn't move for a day. I whined for you but you never came. It made me afraid."
Milo hung his head for several moments. Then he perked up.
"That's how I learned to be careful about food. Some other dogs showed me but they were scary. I hung out with them for a while but eventually they beat me up. I limped for days and missed you so much."
Milo looks at his front left paw, licks it, then looks back to me.
"That's about when I decided to start running. I wanted to get away from people and dogs. I wanted to be free."
There was a strength radiating from Milo now. He looked regal. That's not easy for such an ugly mutt as Milo.
"I'd seen the screaming monsters come by. They always went the same way and sometimes they had places to sit. Sometimes they stopped!" I think I see a smile on Milo's face. "I hopped onto the monster and road it for days. Sometimes it stopped, sometimes it moved, sometimes people and other dogs would jump on. The people called the monster a rooster. I don't know why. If it were really a rooster then I'd have eaten it!"
Out of habit, I reach out and scratch Milo behind the ear. "Good boy," I said softly.
"I jumped off the 'rooster' and traveled a bit longer until I saw giant water. It tasted awful and the birds were mean but I sat there for a few days. There's plenty of food near the giant water." Again, Milo seemed to grin. "I learned to ride a big, hard bed on top of the giant water. A nice skinny man showed me how. We had lots of fun. His name was Hank. Hank and I had lots of fun."
Milo, somehow, took on a dark expression.
"Then the sky was gray. Then the sky was loud. Hank said that we could have a really fun ride..." Milo whimpered but continued. "The giant water was rough then. It reached out and covered me and Hank. I was so scared."
"I'm here, buddy." I scratched Milo behind the ear again. He looked at me then perked up.
"I got back to land but I never saw Hank again. I decided the giant water was too scary and found another rooster. I had to go on several roosters before I found you again. I missed Hank a lot."
"You did good, Milo. I'm glad you had an adventure. I bet Hank is doing just fine."
"I hope so. Now that I'm back, what should we do?"
"Well, I have to go to work. Get in the crate. I'll let you out to pee in a few hours." Then I left. | **EDIT: BEFORE YOU READ THIS I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO INCLUDE THE BEST FRIEND.** I was writing whilst preparing my kids dinner. I'm sorry to the OP. I will still submit this and allow the downvotes to be a reminder that I need to pay attention at all times.
So naturally, I obliged.
'Where shall we do this, should we sit?' I stumbled on my tongue. I didn't want to offend him with the cheap tricks we once did. Sit. Stay. Play dead. It all seemed irrelevant now that I was face to face with a talking, conscious dog.
'It's fine Phillip, don't be nervous, please, over here, under this tree is perfect.' Doug's voice was so soothing, it was nothing like I imagined a dog would talk, it was like silk chocolate milk. I followed Doug from my front door, down my porch steps and under the tree my grandfather had planted in my front lawn, back when it was his front lawn. We sat. Doug looked around and inhaled the sweet summer air.
'By my bark, I've missed this place... And you Phillip, I've missed you. You look healthy.'
'Thanks Doug, you, umm, you look great, it's been a long time. Where have you been.' Doug swallowed and relaxed in the grass.
'Four years, to this day exactly, Phillip, tell me, do you remember the last thing you said to me?'
I tried to think, I honestly couldn't remember. One day I woke up and Doug was gone. I thought it was my fault, I'd always blamed myself for leaving the backdoor open.
'I'm sorry, I don't remember...'
'That's okay, I understand the minds of men better than I ever thought I would now, I understand the struggle of just surviving, working, paying bills, mating. I've travelled Phil, I've travelled till my paws have bled, then I travelled more. I needed to understand the world of men. I slowly learnt your words, your ways... Your desires... Your hatred.'
Doug's voice fell deep with sadness, I felt weak as I noticed a sadness in his eyes.
'Oh Douggy, what's happened to you, who hurt you?' I needed to know.
'Everyone, I searched and searched for an answer to your question but I've come back to tell you Phillip. There is no good boy. Not in this world.'
Then suddenly I remembered, I had come out of the shower, gotten ready for bed and went to the kitchen for a drink to take my pills with and I saw Doug in his bed. I knelt down, patted his head and said...
'Who's a good boy? I remember now, that's what I said the last time I saw you.'
'That's right Phillip, I tried and I tried to find out for you, to find you a true and honest friend. A good boy that you deserved. You were so good to me but I know I wasn't enough, you would always ask me 'Who's a good boy?' I didn't know then and I'm so sorry to tell you... I don't know now.' Doug stopped making eye contact with me. The sadness grew and grew in those deep brown eyes. Then I felt it growing in me too, tears began to fall down both our faces.
'Doug you fool! It was you! It was always you!' I tackled Doug with a passion I hadn't felt in the longest time. Doug pulled out of my embrace, confused.
'I... I'm a good boy? Me?' Doug stammered, with his voice cracking.
'Of course it's you, you are the loyalist, greatest friend I could have ever asked for.' Doug's tail began to wag, a little at first as it all sank in, then violently as he became overjoyed. He pounced on me like a puppy, we rolled around making up for lost time. The only person I'd ever needed was back in my life.
'Oh Phillip, this is the greatest day ever, so much time wasted, so much we have to catch up on, fetch, walks, chess... Oh I can play chess now.'
'That's fantastic! You're right, this truly is the greatest day ever... Doug... Who's a good boy?'
'Oh, oh I know, I know, it's me.'
| 2017-03-31T10:35:58 | 2017-03-31T10:02:08 | 70 | 16 |
[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! | "Put down everything and put up your hands! Make one move, and you die!"
Hothead Fawkes waves his pistol at the people in the bank, who all immediately drop what they're doing and put up their hands as told.
Chubby Shark, Hothead's partner, takes out a small handheld device.
"Sorry if you have an expensive phone, haha!"
Shark says as he pushes a button on the device, and immediately all the lights in the bank go out.
"Electromagnetic pulse. Goodbye silent alarms, heh heh!"
Shark goes to the counters and commands one of the staff at gunpoint to fill his bags with cash. He laughs louder and louder as hundreds of thousands are poured out for him and Hothead to share.
Suddenly, just as the last bag becomes full, a voice calls from the bank entrance.
"You! You two naughty kids! I have come to stop you - for the millionth time!"
The eyes of the scared, shivering citizens in the bank light up with hope as they turn to see Captain Thunderbolt, the superhero of the city… 50 years ago.
"How many times do I, do I have to teach you two a lesson, before you finally learn, that crime… is not the way to go!"
Captain Thunderbolt rumbles as he points his cane at Hothead Fawkes and Chubby Shark.
"Okay, okay Thunderbolt, you got me again,"
Hothead puts his gun on the floor, and Captain Thunderbolt slowly walks towards him and breaks the gun with a powerful thrust of his cane.
Seeing this, Chubby Shark makes a confused face.
"Hothead, you're just gonna give up like that?"
Hothead Fawkes turns towards Shark, nodding.
"Face it Shark. We grew up robbing banks and fighting Thunderbolt, and we've never won. What do you think makes this time different?"
Shark lets out a long sigh, then drops his gun. He proceeds to hand the cash-filled bags to the bank staff.
"Okay. You got us, Thunderbolt. Arrest us, do whatever you do."
"You know what, you two? I'll let you off this one time, because you surrendered. But, if I ever see you robbing banks again…"
"Then you'll zap us with lightning?"
"…yes, I'll zap you with lightning! Now get outta here, you little punks! Promise to yourself, that you'll… never commit a crime again!"
Captain Thunderbolt maintains his authoritative tone that he's been using for 50 years, even before his first encounter with Hothead and Shark.
As the two embarrassed criminals walk out of the bank, they are blinded by a flash. As the bright light fades away, they see a person blocking the way.
It's a teenager wearing a bright blue jacket and long gym pants, hovering a few feet from the ground. She is Dawn, the girl born with mystical powers, and she has recently started to fight crime.
"Halt, bank robbers! Hand over the cash!"
Dawn yells with an inherited authoritative tone.
"We already did. We're going home now, if you'd excuse us," says Hothead Fawkes, gesturing to the inside of the bank.
Confused, Dawn glances into the bank's glass doors and sees Captain Thunderbolt, slowly walking out.
"Grandpa? What are you doing here? Weren't you just at home watching TV?"
"I told you, Dawn. I'm Captain Thunderbolt! I've been fighting crime in this city before your father even met your mother!"
"Yeah, whatever, Gramps. Always rambling about your *'good old days'*. I'm gonna arrest these guys."
Chubby Shark taps Dawn on the shoulder.
"You should listen to your grandpa, you know. He let us go."
"Yes, I let them go! I even got them to return the cash they just robbed the bank for!"
Captain Thunderbolt shouts at Dawn with anger.
"They're criminals, grandpa! They belong in prison!"
"No, they deserve to learn a lesson and… become good people again! I've given them their lesson, you don't get to interfere, little girl!"
"I'm done listening to these two argue. Let's go, Shark," Hothead says while shaking his head.
"Hey, don't think about escaping!" Dawn ignores her grandfather and throws a punch at Hothead Fawkes. He cries in pain.
"Hey! She attacked you first, you have every right to fight back!" Captain Thunderbolt yells as he throws Chubby Shark's gun to its owner.
Dawn is quick and strong and can fly, but she isn't bulletproof. Chubby Shark shoots at Dawn, and she manages to dodge every one of the shots, except for the last one, which scrapes her left thigh, and she tumbles to the ground. The partners immediately flee the scene.
Captain Thunderbolt walks over to Dawn with the help of his cane. She is panting heavily, and he can tell that she is scared out of her mind. This is the first time Dawn has been shot, albeit very mildly.
"Silly grandchild. That'll teach you a lesson." | As Anton's whip tightened around Tony's neck, all the while sending huge volts of electricity through Tony's armor, he saw a familiar figure walk towards him.
"Ms. Carter, please step away!!!".
Peggy stopped for a second, and then continued walking towards Anton.
"Stop! You know his father stole my dad's inventions. He will pay for his father's sins."
Peggy stood face to face with Anton. Well, technically, her chest was facing his stomach. She didn't hate her old age, but was definitely not too happy about how much effort it took for her to stand up straight. She took a deep breath and straightened her back. Now they were chest to face. Peggy summoned some more strength and lifted her neck and looked into Anton's eyes.
"Now, Anton, do not pretend that your father was righteous and innocent. I think we both know the things he did."
His eyes dropped, he looked sideways, unable to make eye contact, "He was no angel, but his father," looking at Tony writhing at the other end of his whip, "reaped the benefits of my father's hard work, and build such a huge business empire. His father," he lowered his voice as he increased the voltage that hit the armor, "sent my father back to Russia, where he spent the rest of his life in a Gulag."
"Anton, is that what your father told you?"
Anton's eyes met hers, searching for answers. She continued...
"I was in SHIELD. You want to know what happened? Your father was kidnapped by HYDRA, and then some of the major publications released news stories of him being deported."
"He was a brilliant scientist. You think that if he had been deported, he would've been kept in a Gulag?" She laughed a little. "You think Russians would waste a great mind such as your father's in a Gulag". She said Gulag in a typical Russian accent and really elongated the aa sound to make her point.
"What do you think the SHIELD did with Arnim Zola? Do you think we threw him in a prison? No, we put him to work, and he worked for us until the day he died."
"He was old, senile, and brainwashed, by the time they let him go, probably he was of no use to them anymore."
"Come on Anton, Tony's not your enemy. Let him go, and hold me hostage so that he doesn't hurt you."
"I am not taking you hostage, Peggy."
"But you're letting him go."
"I am not sure"
"Yes you are"
"Peggy, how do I know you're telling me the truth?"
"Anton, I might be lying to you, but you agree that there is room for doubt in your theory. Right? Then I will go and talk to Tony"
"It's going to take you the whole year to reach him, by then his backup will be here."
"You really want to insult me right now?"
"Teasing, Ms. Carter, teasing, not insulting... I am sorry..."
Peggy turned around and thought to herself. Well it's going to be a long walk.
As she neared Tony, she was grateful that this time she won't have to straighten up, the man was already on his knees.
"How you doing Tony?"
"Listen Peggy, I don't need your help, my armor is protecting me like a faraday cage, thanks to the failsafes I created to save myself from lightning strikes."
"Tony, who is the man you are fighting?"
"Peggy, please don't think of this as a teachable moment, I am working over here. I really don't need any 'know your enemy' lessons right now"
"What happened Tony, systems are offline, can't run a facial recognition?"
"His whip's fried all armor connectivity below my helmet, my network sensors are on my back, and they are offline."
"So you can't even call for backup?"
Tony's voice was very low, as he very sheepishly said, "No"
"And... you don't need my help? Okay, why am I not dead right now?"
"Peggy, stop asking me questions, I am busy", Tony said, annoyed, when it suddenly dawned on him, "Why aren't you dead, Peggy? Because you know him!!!?? How? Why is someone you know attacking me? What's going on Peggy?"
"Because his father was a friend..." she paused, waiting for his helmet to turn towards her " of your father and me"
"Then why the hell is he attacking me, how the hell does he have my ARC reactor? Oh because his father invented it. He is Vanko's son."
"Finally, you learnt something, do you promise not to attack him?"
"He killed so many people here today, how can I let him go?"
"I am trying to save your behind, young man!!! At least have some common sense."
"Peggy, I can't let him go..."
"Tony, as things stand, I really don't think you're in a position of holding him. I am going to go and make him go away. Catch him next time... Although I'll recommend that you try helping him."
"Why will I help him?"
Peggy just shrugged, and went back to Anton, "what do you want to do?"
"I don't know, I killed so many people here today"
"Anton, that's what you did, what do you want to do now?"
"Peggy, they will arrest me..."
"Yes Anton, but they will not deport you, you built an ARC reactor yourself, in a garage in Russia. What do you think will happen next? You will go to prison, but you will work on stuff you always dreamed of."
"What about him?"
"His suit is offline from the neck down"
Anton turned off his whip, and Tony collapsed to the ground. Cops surrounded him, "Stupid old bitch, always thinks she can talk these guys out of things and get them to surrender." said one
Antone turned on his whips again, and took the cop by the scruff and said, "Did you just call Ms. Carter a bad word? You're lucky I don't feel like killing more people today, better apologise to her afterwards."
| 2017-04-13T06:10:33 | 2017-04-13T05:10:16 | 28 | 10 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | “I have summoned and bound you, demon! You will listen and obey.”
“Uh, sure. Whatever you say, boss.” Michael tried to make out some features of whatever was talking but it was obscured by a dark, heavy robe complete with a hood. “I do whatcha ask and then you send me back. You’ll send me home, right?”
“I am the master here! I will say when you go.”
“Well that’s not fair. Not fair at all. I was just sitting, drinking a beer after work and poof. I’m here. I didn’t know I could even poof. And hell, you didn’t even poof my beer. I would appreciate a beer after being poofed.”
“You will spoke when spoken to!”
“Ah, to hell with this.” Michael took a step but hit something that felt like cling wrap pulled off leftovers heated in a microwave. It was uncomfortably warm but not hot enough to burn.
“My wards bind you! I am the master here. I am your master.”
“I said, to hell with this!” He dropped his shoulder, braced and pushed forward. The cling wrap stuck to him but it snapped in a moment. He grabbed the robed figure by the collar and picked it up, a little shocked by how light it was.
“The wards. The books said they’d work. The wards, they can’t be broken. The wards...”
“Knock it off,” Michael roared. He pulled its hood down. “Well, you ain’t nothing but I child. I mean, you an ugly child, but just a child.”
“I am no such thing. I am Olassin, head of House Olazuim, the third of his name. I have ruled for two decades and brought my house fortune and fame.”
“Forturne and fame huh?” Michael sniggered. “You think I’m a demon. And moreso, you meant to bring me here. Folks doing well don’t need to seek out demons.”
Olassin shuffled its feet. It opened its mouth and then closed it again, dropping its gaze to the floor.
“That’s what I thought.” Michael put the little child-man down and asked, “You can poof me back here any time, right?”
Olassin nodded.
Michael let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “I’m going to fix your problem, whatever it is, and in return, you send me home and never poof me again. Agreed?”
Olassin nodded, a grin suddenly on its face.
“But first, you gonna poof my beer for me. I’m gonna need it to get through this crap.”
edit: typo | "Naturally, it's your genetics and evolutionary upbringing that lead to such [TRANSLATION MISSING - Suggestion: sanity curdling bloodlust that all sentient lifeforms would cringe away from in existential horror] among your people." The device doing the translating, a slim piece of floating aluminium foil, by the looks of it, certainly took its time cross-referencing that particular idiomatic expression. But perhaps...
Thinking carefully, I slowly pronounced each word, striving for the formal language it seemed to understand best. "Mighty-Kelp-Organ-464, might I possibly help improve your translating device?"
A small hologram flipped up, revealing a " :) ", an extremely useful feature, as the Rylonian equivalent was scent based. I could definitely detect it. I could almost taste it. But I still hadn't quite got the nuances of their expression down. Was it slightly more 'wet dog', this time? Or maybe my olfactory cilia were committing hari-kari one by one to defend my psyche from the assault.
I digress. It's been a long 48 hours.
"Perhaps 'The Human Condition' might be an appropriate substitution."
"Thank you Meat-Friend. Mighty-Kelp-Organ.464 will be pleased to accept such an contribution. Please accept a gift of another of your metric units of P79 N118."
Hey, it wasn't all bad. The smells, the lack of sleep, the ceaseless barrage of noise and light that the almost blind and deaf Rylonians require to comprehend their tele-screens, sure, not pleasant, but it's much easier to say 'this too shall pass' when small blocks of extremely heavy metal keep materialising at my feet.
"As I was saying, I in no way disparage your right as an individual to sentience-recognition by the Sector Administration, far from it. You've proven to be extremely [TRANSLATION ERROR - Multiple substitutions available: Relaxed/peaceful/not murderous] throughout your stay. It is simply that," Mighty-Kelp shifted slightly, and I pretended not to notice the forcefields flickering. "Well, as a species you seem remarkably insane. Forecasts give your species another two hundred and fifty seven years before homo sapiens goes extinct in the wild."
I blinked at that.
"Hence, no committee would ever declare your kind, in your current state, a suitable candidate for recognition. Therefore..."
"You want me to murder one of your colleagues?"
Mighty-Kelp-Organ.464 flapped around at that. The translation device slide smoothly out of the way, evidently used to the flailing. Lumpy tentacles smeared with some sort of jelly flollopped and glollopped around, spattering fluids. After about a minute of this, it seemed to calm down. I couldn't smell anything though. I think my nose has actually shut down.
Oh well. Probably for the best. Rylionian cussing could probably kill a man at a dozen paces.
"I repeat, Meat Friend, That this would *not* be murder. Murder is a premeditated act by a sentient creature on another. This would be an accident, a terrible, terrible, highly specific accident. I grieve pre-emptively for Mighty-Kelp-Organ.12, but my [TRANSLATION ERROR - Multiple substitutions available: Promotion/breeding rights/spiritual status] has already been trampled on for long enough."
"And afterwards?"
"Well, while the lawyers hash it out, you'll need to stay in a secure facility planetside. No doubt about it though, as a known invasive species, they will return you to your natural habitat with not a hair out of place."
"Well... I really don't know. If your legal system is anything like Earth's, I could be stuck out here for years."
"We have the technology to fabricate [TRANSLATION MISSING - Suggestion: Blackjack and hookers.]"
"Deal."
| 2017-05-12T08:18:29 | 2017-05-12T07:53:52 | 617 | 122 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | You'd think this would throw me off. You'd think I'd be disoriented. But I've always been a fast learner and I've played *a lot* of D&D. Like *weeks*. I channeled my annoyance at being interrupted into the first thing that popped into my head.
"WHO SUMMONS THE ALL-PURPOSE NERD?" I boomed. I stand straight and tall and flex a little. Yeah.
"Oh great foul being of America, I implore your assistance!" Little bald dude with fancy purple robes and a black fu manchu 'stache. Is he a gnome? I can't place his accent at all, but it's clear English is not his first language.
"My patience is finite, sorcerer." I'm getting a better look at my surroundings, and it looks like my summoner reads Better Caves and Dungeons. It's like someone set up a Victorian-era office in a red-tinted Elizabethan castle. Books, papers, ink, quills, no messier than my room. Actually, probably less messy than my room, to be honest.
He starts into his spiel about a rival mage, something about intellectual dishonesty and birthright. His accent borders on indecipherable when he gets upset. The whole thing smacks of feuding academics. Basically, 'he stole my thesis, go beat him up.'
I stand with crossed arms trying to look badass and pensive. I wonder, if I'm killed here, do I just go back, or am I legit dead? Every feels pretty 'world of cardboard' here and I'm *pretty sure* the gravity is lighter.
This could be fun as Hell.
"Hmm. Very well. Bring me wine and a sword."
He hesitates. "Uh... Yes. At once!" And he rushes off. He leaves me alone long enough to start going through his books and stuff. Most of it's in... idunno, *gnomish* or whatever, big surprise. Indecipherable except for the diagrams (which look like the quantum mechanical equivalent of alchemy). But I do find a softcover 1988 Almanac, just like the ones Grandma used to throw at us.
He eventually returns with what looks like a hunting knife and a roughly eight-ounce bottle, only a little bigger than what you get on airplanes.
"...really?"
"My Lord, this is the best I have."
I snatch the bottle out of his hand and drain it. It's not the worst red wine I've ever had. Also, I don't really like red wine, like *at all*, but I figured "a can of strawberry seltzer, a can of Diet Coke, and a shot of Everclear" would be three or four alien concepts to this guy. I don't like asking people for stuff they can't deliver.
I examine his "sword." It's a *big knife,* but it's still just a knife to me. Like a cross between a bowie knife and a wakizashi. The handle's a little skinny, but I figure this dude's got small hands. It's actually pretty cool. I find the darkened blade to be weirdly flexible. "Is this *bronze*?"
"Yes, my Lord." His accent's thickening again. He must be afraid of me. That's awesome.
I tuck the bottle in my back pocket and check my phone. It claim's it's 5:23, but I unsurprisingly have no service. "Alright, let's go shed some blood." | Jason dropped the carboard box onto the one he had set down prior, and stepped back. He held his lower back and arched. Fuck, this retail stocking shit is not fun. Time for a break. He walked over to the door, reached in his shirt pocket and grabbed for his smokes. Opening the door, he stepped through into brilliant sunlight.
What the fuck? This is night shift. He blinked and held his hand to his brow to shade his eyes.
In an instant he could see that he was not in the back parking lot of the Northland Mall. He was standing on a giant slab of stone, and the smell of salt was in the air. He turned to where the door he had just passed through should have been and there was met with the gaze of a fat nude woman with red hair.
Jason squared up towards her and looked her over. What. The. Fuck. A wave of panic washed over him, and the woman began to move to his left chanting in a language that he did not understand while moving her fleshy arms in circles. That's when he noticed the others in the darkness.
Behind the fat woman was a crowd. Several dozen people. There were men and women, all dressed in shabby clothing that was dirty. Jason noticed one woman near the front holding an infant in her arms. She stared directly at him, her eyes cold and flat. It was then that Jason noticed the baby's limb dangling limply and he knew that something was not right.
The redheaded woman continued to circle Jason, her gesticulations becoming wilder and her voice rising. Jason shouted back to her. Fuck you! What the fuck is this!? He tried to approach her and his legs felt like iron. Each step felt as if he was pulling a tree's roots from the earth, and when it fell flat against the stone he felt a stabbing pain radiate upward through his leg.
What is this? He shouted again. Just then a man stepped forth from the crowd. He pointed at the redheaded woman and yelled. He pointed at Jason and then back to the crowd, all the time speaking a strange tongue Jason had never encountered before.
The woman stood looking at Jason, and extended her palm toward him. She stared at Jason, and then turned to speak to the man, keeping her hand directed towards Jason. Jason looked from one to the other, and began to feel his knees buckle. His head was growing light, and he was feeling wobbly. What now?
Falling to his knees, he put his hands down and the stone felt like fire against his flesh. He yelled out in anguish. The man's voice rose, and several others stepped forward from the crowd behind him, all facing the redheaded woman. One man was carrying a child, obviously dead, it's lifeless corpse held tenderly in his arms. He pointed a finger at the nude woman, and then towards Jason.
The redheaded woman stared intently at Jason. He attempted to lift his hands to crawl, but it felt like his hands had become part of the stone, like he was being pulled into it. What is this? What is happening? He looked all around him and saw that the crowd was in a circle around him and they were moving towards the woman, who kept her gaze on Jason. She began to speak, and turned her head toward the advancing mob. Three people in the front of the line dropped to the turf, dead in their tracks. She kept her hand pointed toward Jason, and began to motion with the other above her head.
A light formed over Jason, and he looked up to meet it. Suddenly it felt like rain falling on his face, and the brilliance overwhelmed him.
"Jason, hey Jason ..." The voice was familiar. It was Stan. "Hey man, you OK?"
Jason blinked and looked up. Stan, the heavyset night security guard was standing on his hoverround with his flashlight on Jason's eyes. "What ... where ..."
"Dude, are you OK?"
Jason felt the cool pavement beneath his hand and clamored to his feet. His knees felt uneasy. His head throbbed, and on the ground in front of him was a cigarette. "Yeah, I, uh, I don't know what happened ..."
"OK, bro, I don't know what you're smoking and I don't really care, but just be careful out here. I heard some dudes from West Haven jumped a guy last week." Stan looked him over once more before turning around on the hoverround and zipping across the parking lot.
Jason watched him, Stan's red pony tail poking out from underneath his black baseball cap. Man, fuck night shift. | 2017-05-12T09:26:05 | 2017-05-12T08:33:39 | 68 | 44 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "Da hell?"
When finals ended I had resolved to spend no moment of the weekend sober. One moment I had been sitting on the steps of my apartment building smoking a cigarette, fending off last night's hangover with a bottle of whiskey, and the next I was sitting in a small, darkened room.
"Where's my cig... FUCK!"
Having located my still lit cigarette burning a hole through the crotch of my jeans I leapt to my feet, hitting my head on the ceiling while frantically brushing the embers off my lap. The blow to the head, while not at all sobering, at least alerted me to the fact this room was even smaller than I originally thought. Upon closer inspecting I realized that the room was built and furnished in such a way that it may have been a grand cathedral to tiny people. As I finished brushing the remaining embers off my lap I registered small, frantic voices somewhere in the room.
"Did you see? It can create fire! This will be perfect!"
"It's huge, Dina! I don't think this was a good idea..."
"We did everything perfectly. It has to obey us, Ariel, don't worry."
Squinting in the direction of the voices, I managed to focus my unsteady gaze on what appeared to be two young girls, normal in appearance except for the fact that they were no more than a foot tall.
In a more sober state I would have asked them who or what they are, where I was, how I got here, or why everything seemed to be a fifth of it's normal size besides me. Instead, what came out was;
"Pfffffft, HAHAHA, you're so small, HAHAHAHA!"
"Demon! We have summoned you to do our bidding", said Dina confidently, though visibly shaken my my laughter. "You are under our control and we will not release you until you have fulfilled our wishes."
"Uh, okay, I'll do that. What'm I doin?"
"You will exact our vengeance upon those who have shunned us. They are right out there", said Dina, pointing toward a tiny curtained window I hadn't noticed before.
I unsteadily laid down on the ground. Using a finger I forced the curtains open and looked outside. This definitely wasn't the rainy Pacific Northwest I lived in. It appeared to be a tropical paradise. I looked across a tiny street to a white sandy beach. There was a group girls there, they looked much more popular than the two in the room with me. Noticing me looking back at them, Ariel said sincerely;
"They're mean. They always pick on us."
"Those bitches", I said as I drunkenly crawled on my knees toward the front door of the church and forced my way through the small opening.
As I stood up at full height, now outside in a pleasant summer heat, I could see small people and cars stopping to stare at my massive size. Spreading my arms wide and pounding my feet into the ground, I said in my best giant's voice:
"FEE FI FO FUM! YOU WILL ALL BOW BEFORE ME!"
As the streets cleared as tiny people fled in fear, I looked back at Ariel and Dina to find them smiling.
See, I told you it would work", Dina said to Ariel as I turned back to look at the paradise before me.
"Well, if this is my life now, should be fun", I thought to myself. "I hope they have booze." | Jason dropped the carboard box onto the one he had set down prior, and stepped back. He held his lower back and arched. Fuck, this retail stocking shit is not fun. Time for a break. He walked over to the door, reached in his shirt pocket and grabbed for his smokes. Opening the door, he stepped through into brilliant sunlight.
What the fuck? This is night shift. He blinked and held his hand to his brow to shade his eyes.
In an instant he could see that he was not in the back parking lot of the Northland Mall. He was standing on a giant slab of stone, and the smell of salt was in the air. He turned to where the door he had just passed through should have been and there was met with the gaze of a fat nude woman with red hair.
Jason squared up towards her and looked her over. What. The. Fuck. A wave of panic washed over him, and the woman began to move to his left chanting in a language that he did not understand while moving her fleshy arms in circles. That's when he noticed the others in the darkness.
Behind the fat woman was a crowd. Several dozen people. There were men and women, all dressed in shabby clothing that was dirty. Jason noticed one woman near the front holding an infant in her arms. She stared directly at him, her eyes cold and flat. It was then that Jason noticed the baby's limb dangling limply and he knew that something was not right.
The redheaded woman continued to circle Jason, her gesticulations becoming wilder and her voice rising. Jason shouted back to her. Fuck you! What the fuck is this!? He tried to approach her and his legs felt like iron. Each step felt as if he was pulling a tree's roots from the earth, and when it fell flat against the stone he felt a stabbing pain radiate upward through his leg.
What is this? He shouted again. Just then a man stepped forth from the crowd. He pointed at the redheaded woman and yelled. He pointed at Jason and then back to the crowd, all the time speaking a strange tongue Jason had never encountered before.
The woman stood looking at Jason, and extended her palm toward him. She stared at Jason, and then turned to speak to the man, keeping her hand directed towards Jason. Jason looked from one to the other, and began to feel his knees buckle. His head was growing light, and he was feeling wobbly. What now?
Falling to his knees, he put his hands down and the stone felt like fire against his flesh. He yelled out in anguish. The man's voice rose, and several others stepped forward from the crowd behind him, all facing the redheaded woman. One man was carrying a child, obviously dead, it's lifeless corpse held tenderly in his arms. He pointed a finger at the nude woman, and then towards Jason.
The redheaded woman stared intently at Jason. He attempted to lift his hands to crawl, but it felt like his hands had become part of the stone, like he was being pulled into it. What is this? What is happening? He looked all around him and saw that the crowd was in a circle around him and they were moving towards the woman, who kept her gaze on Jason. She began to speak, and turned her head toward the advancing mob. Three people in the front of the line dropped to the turf, dead in their tracks. She kept her hand pointed toward Jason, and began to motion with the other above her head.
A light formed over Jason, and he looked up to meet it. Suddenly it felt like rain falling on his face, and the brilliance overwhelmed him.
"Jason, hey Jason ..." The voice was familiar. It was Stan. "Hey man, you OK?"
Jason blinked and looked up. Stan, the heavyset night security guard was standing on his hoverround with his flashlight on Jason's eyes. "What ... where ..."
"Dude, are you OK?"
Jason felt the cool pavement beneath his hand and clamored to his feet. His knees felt uneasy. His head throbbed, and on the ground in front of him was a cigarette. "Yeah, I, uh, I don't know what happened ..."
"OK, bro, I don't know what you're smoking and I don't really care, but just be careful out here. I heard some dudes from West Haven jumped a guy last week." Stan looked him over once more before turning around on the hoverround and zipping across the parking lot.
Jason watched him, Stan's red pony tail poking out from underneath his black baseball cap. Man, fuck night shift. | 2017-05-12T09:53:02 | 2017-05-12T08:33:39 | 59 | 44 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "Save her!"
"Wha-?"
"I summoned you here to save her! Do it!"
On the table lay a woman with labored breath and covered in blood.
"I can't do it here. You'll have to send me back. I need an ER."
"I have an ear for you right here, demon!" The man jiggles his own bloody ear in his hand.
"No, I need an E... R... An emergency room you imbecile. Send us both back and she'll be healed."
"No. No I won't do it. I won't let you make her a demon like you. They never come back the same."
"Of course they don't. You can't take a bite of the apple of knowledge and stay ignorant."
"SAVE HER, DEMON!"
The man standing in an arcane circle wearing a long white robe and a strange creature about his neck sighs. "You are all fools. Damned fools." Then he clapped his hands and was gone. So was the woman.
For the next month, the young sorcerer wept. He had sold his love to a demon. Then, a loud clap and the sound of something solid bouncing on the floor pulled him out of his remorse. When he approached the strange object, he saw her smiling face. Then the object spoke...
"Hey Joe. Thanks for helping me. It's better here. People are happy. Their babies live past infancy, infections don't kill people, and there's much less war and violence. I've decided to stay with Dr. Hapburn. He's the man you summoned to save me. He's been kind to me and he is wealthier than our king! Good luck, Joe. I don't think I'll ever see you again."
Then the object went dark. Joe let out an anguished scream. "DAMN YOU DEMON!"
-------
"Welcome back, Dr. Hapburn!"
"Thanks Sally. We need to get this one to the ICU."
"We're on it doctor. Why doesn't Texas just join the Federation of Nations?"
"I don't know. King Norris won't let them. It's just good for us that the Global Processing Unit is available for teleportation requests."
"I hear the locals think people who talk to the GPU are sorcerers."
"Yes, that's true. Poor fools." | It felt like I had tripped up some stairs. For a second I thought I had, and immediately froze. The plate in my hand still held the Reuben, but the surface beneath.....
My head snapped up, and I noticed the darkness first. Second were the candles, placed carefully around me in hexagons expanding away from me. Low-level bands of light etched out the writing between the tiers, though none of it looked like a language I could place. The floor, instead of the carpeted stairs I had been climbing, was an old wood, stained with neglect, and riddled with gaps and protruding nails. One was digging into my hand, and as I lifted it I realized the nail was rough, as if hand-forged.
My analysis of the floor was disrupted by a heavy thud, just beyond the candles.
"Stay where you are, demon!"
"What?" I rose, still holding the plate.
A figure was just visible in the room, which I now saw was small, and claustrophobic. A low work-bench dominated a wall, scattered with shapes that I could only just spot in the candle-light. A window was open, but I couldn't feel a breeze. The figure, which seemed to be rather.... short, was doing its best at a power pose, and failing.
"I said stay where you are!"
"Nah, I got that. What's with the demon? Is that some kind of racist term I'm not aware of?"
"What?"
"What?"
The figure shook its head. "Look, you are a demon, you have to be! I summoned you, with a demon summoning, so you have to be a demon! That's how this works!"
I tried to step forward, collided against something. Something hard. "The fuck!?"
"Ahah, see! That barrier holds in demons! And you're a demon!"
"Oh yeah? Have you tried to pass through this?" Hard as rock, my finger tips told me.
"I don't have to prove it works. It won't, because I'm not a demon!" He even stamped his foot. Adorable.
I had had enough. I shifted my sandwich to my other hand, and hefted the plate. Middle school track, don't fail me now. The plate landed with a soft thud three feet to the left of the figure. Almost as if...
"How old even are you?" I asked, leaning against the barrier and taking a bite of my sandwich.
The figure flinched. "N- not you- hush, you demon!"
"Sooooooo, eight, then?" I glanced over at the figure. Definitely too immature to be an adult. I turned my back on him, and took another bite. "Is this your bedroom? Why do you even want a demon? What are demons supposed to do?"
"I- I said hush!"
"Uh huh. You getting bullied in school?"
"I SAID HUSH!"
My feet skidded across the floor as if I had been shoved. Before I could regain my slouch the walls slammed into me, pinning my sandwich to my thigh, my other arm across my chest. "Wha-"
"I have summoned you, demon, from your Earthly dimension, to aid me in a task!"
The walls were crushing me, and I gave a tiny whimper in response.
"You are to use your dark powers to kill the President, Tonald Drump!" | 2017-05-12T09:10:43 | 2017-05-12T08:05:41 | 43 | 10 |
[WP] You created the machine that brought about world peace, ended hunger, and eliminated disease. It's getting a little hard to avoid having to explain to people how it works, though. | We called it middle-matter.
It was something between anti-matter and matter. And we had barely enough for a single rubix cube sized object. But it was enough.
Nobody asked us where it came from, or how we found it. All they knew was as long as middle-matter existed, any angry thought, any greedy whim, any negative feeling got sucked up like a vacuum. It didn't matter where you were. Once the middle-matter appeared, all the problems disappeared.
We put it in the middle of a five sized building in the open air next to a hot dog stand. Not much use for secrets anymore anyways. And people came from all over to see it.
But even with no war and no ill will, I wouldn't leave the middle-matter's side. Because I knew the day was coming soon when someone would try to take it back.
It took them two years to rebuild the door. Would have taken less time if they didn't have all those unexpected issues. Every night I heard the screams. I could feel them, emanating from the cube. And on the night when he arrived, I hadn't slept a wink.
He didn't kill me like I thought he would. No. What he did was much worse. He injected me with a knock-out drug, and he shipped me back through the door before he closed the gateway forever.
At first when I woke up next to that hot dog stand, I thought I'd dreamt it all. But quickly I realized I hadn't, as I looked at the red-streaked sky, the burning buildings in the distance, and the men with guns surrounding me.
"Curtis White, you're under arrest for..." one of the men started. But I interrupted him.
"Hold on! I'm not... I mean, I am Curtis White, but not the Curtis White you're looking for..."
The guard laughed. "You're under arrest for stealing and destroying your own creation, the only form of middle-matter in the universe."
"In **this** universe," I protested. "But I know where it..."
The guard pistol whipped me in the face. "Don't play us for a fool, Curtis. We have you on camera, stealing the middle matter from this very spot, then destroying it while the whole world burns down around you."
"Don't you see!" I tried to explain. "That's not how it works!!! The middle-matter... it **trades** fortune in one universe for misfortune in another..."
But the guards didn't listen. My double had made sure they wouldn't, and rather than face the trials for my crimes, he left his world to burn with me in it and took my place instead.
---
Like this story? Read more at /u/MNBrian. My short story series [Helia](https://www.reddit.com/user/MNBrian/comments/6bb8e9/short_story_series_the_modern_cartography_of_helia/) can be found there exclusively.
| "For the millionth time, people, it's called Maaaagic!" Paul sighed as he drew out a long "a" and motioned with his hands. He tried making it look like he was bored and annoyed, but beneath the surface he was starting to panic. They were on to him.
"Stop lying! We haven't believed in magic for nearly three weeks now!" Someone in the crowd threw an orange at Paul, hitting him square in the chest. A split second later, the sliding door on the front of the large silver box next to Paul whispered open and fired another, similar looking orange at the agitator, breaking the bridge of their nose. "My nose!" they cried.
"People, there is seriously nothing to this plain, ordinary, boring box other than its magical ability to create whatever it is you want out of free air. Why are you complaining? This machine single-handedly ended the War of Wars didn't it?"
"Well, yes," said a man in the crowd. "But we want to know how!"
"What do you mean 'how'?" Paul asked. "By making sure everyone had a puppy to cuddle."
"Yes, but where did the puppies *come* from?" prodded the man. The machine door opened up and a small Pomeranian flew towards the man. "Awww" everyone in the crowd cooed.
"And no one is hungry any more! A turkey dinner for every family!" Paul's voice was beginning to waver.
"Yes, but where are you getting this food?" a woman asked.
"I'm vegetarian!" another woman exclaimed, ducking beneath an eggplant hurtling towards her head.
"And disease! Don't forget all the vaccinations we can get for free now!" The people in the crowd screamed and fell to the floor as projectiles composed of hypodermic needles, pill bottles, and translucent liquids sprayed about. "Stop doing that!" someone yelled.
"We appreciate all that you've done for us, but please! Tell us where it's all coming from and why it's happening! We weren't prepared for all this help!" A woman in the crowd stood up, brushing the loose pills from her hair.
Paul's hands were perspiring at an alarming rate. "Like I said, it's magic! There's nothing more to it! Leave me alone! I want you all to go away!" The machine door slid open once more, ejecting bean bags at high velocities at the different people who had stormed Paul's backyard.
When he was finally alone, Paul stood on his porch, staring at the chaos that remained of his backyard. An old man lay crying on the ground while a tiny Pomeranian nibbled on a nearby hot dog.
"How did it come to this?" Paul said to no one in particular. "I was just trying to help. I thought I was doing a good thing. People could benefit from my invention no questions asked. Is that such a bad thing? Why can't people just be content to take what I give them, and maybe toss in a reward or two?" A gold medal burped forth from the sliding door.
In a location unknown to Paul, nor anyone else on Earth, stood a small boy standing with a leash connected to nothing but air. He stood, staring at where his new puppy was until only moments ago. Across the boy's town was an empty dining room, which had up until very recently boasted a delicious looking roast turkey. At a nearby farm a worker stared in disbelief at the gap where the plumpest eggplant he'd ever seen had been growing. Reports of items disappearing had been turning up en masse all around the planet Erf, ranging from items as small as life-saving medication to things as large as a Great Dane.
In a basement somewhere, a man worked diligently to solve the problems that had been plaguing people all around the world. "I think I've got it!" he shouted. Saul stepped back and looked at his finest creation. To the uneducated it looked like an unassuming box, no larger than small television, with a sliding door in front.
"Box, I want a turkey dinner." | 2017-05-18T12:22:42 | 2017-05-18T12:14:18 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] As the universe is dying, an immortal man is on a journey to find an immortal snail. | I had kept my word. *sigh* why had I kept my word so well?
I was proud at the time; proud of my genius and diligence, but man have I caused myself a headache.
Immortality and 1 million dollars, that's what I got, with one little condition. A snail was given immortality as well as genius, and for all of the foreseeable eternity, he would be after me. Should we ever touch, I would lose my immortality.
So what did I do?
Hell, I was immortal, I could make more money, so I spent all of my million on making sure that snail didn't go anywhere. I had him locked in a box and watched 24/7 while I constructed the ultimate prison for him.
I eventually had him sealed in a Tungsten sphere and dropped into the deepest part of the ocean. I had planned to come back with more money and launch that sphere into a black hole but I just never seemed to get around to it.
The world had been an interesting place as an immortal. Depressing at times with no one to walk beside me for more than a few decades or so, but man...had I seen some cool stuff.
I've watched empires rise and fall, I've seen countries disappear after being consumed by nature, most of them small, until Yellowstone finally blew. Horrific to the world, but man, that was pretty to see.
I had jumped from alias to alias, living many different lives; mostly to entertain myself with a change of pace, but I didn't want to be discovered and studied. I was immortal, I wasn't freaking superman.
After the humans died off, thankfully having mastered space travel, I was able to explore this beautiful universe. Many astronomical events are far too slow to be just watched, except supernovas, and those are amazing.
Even with immortality and the ability to go anywhere, I still only saw a fraction of the universe. It's just so magnificently expansive. Now I've been watching it die for some time.
Heat death.
The slow curtain fall to our universe. Heat death is when all of the remaining stars cool off and the lights go out. I don't know what would happen after that, but I haven't seen any life for ages, and I don't plan on sitting around in the dark, alone, forever. Would it be forever?
I have to find that freaking snail.
My ship begins to slow out of hyperspace as I approach a large dark mass in space. Centuries after human life, several large planets had been caught you in the suns gravitational pull. These planets had affected the earth's orbit until eventually they gave it enough force to leave the suns gravitational pull, and the earth hasn't found a new star to orbit. This once vibrant planet full of life had become dark. Later finding its way into the line of a distant gamma ray burst that had blown most of its atmosphere off. The good news is, I won't have to swim, the bad news is, I'm gonna have to blast through ice to find that damned sphere.
Tears streaming down my face, "how long has it been?" I ask to no one in particular. Years have past since I came back to earth, blasting at the ice in search of the prison I had created.
Smooth, dull metal sticking out of the ice. I had finally found what I was looking for. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped my heart without the ability to strangle it...yet. I was about to become mortal. One touch and I would be capable of dying, and with so little atmosphere, which had long since been blown off be some cosmological event no doubt, I'd meet my end swiftly.
I sat there for days, reliving the joy and pain of my long life. I had gotten cold feet...HA! Cold feet. I was soon to freeze to death in the harsh darkness. "Here we go," I said, to break the silence. I had forgotten the lack of atmosphere which muted my words. I laughed as I took out a handheld device to cut through the metal.
Within a few moments I could see him in the lights of my ship, which I had turned on to see what I was doing. True to form, he was slowly crawling towards me, finally free from his prison. I guess he never found a way out.
Another journey awaited me now. I stretched forth my hand and as I felt the soft slimy skin of the snail, so too did I feel the merciless cold that immediately pierced to my core.
As I fell to the ground dying, I felt relief and excitement. The death of the universe. The death of an immortal. This was only physical though, and the last thought I had?
What comes next.
Edit: this is my first post on writing prompts. I remembered the original comment that the prompt was referencing and this was my version of my favorite solution.
I changed the line about the sun going out to make it more feasible. | The last sun was beautiful thing. Rather, it had been.
The age of suns had faded with one last supernova, right on the edge of the galaxy and Homine was glad to be there. He watched it with reserved awe, the last lights in the universe, set to fade any moment. Colours like spectres danced out over a never ending black canvas. They painted in vibrant blues what might have an ocean. Yellows of a magnificent hue blossomed and shifted like spring flowers caught at sunrise. Orange dusts spun like autumn leaves turned on a gentle breeze, falling to a blackened dirt that it would never quite reach. An eternal and dark canvas was painted bright to the music of fading tinnitus.
Achati appeared on the other end of this vibrant display of spectrum. She drifted through it slowly, like a lowly cloud passing through the might of an aurora. She was beside Homine and they both watched with reserved silence. Years passed like seconds and the supernova drifted as if it all the time in the universe. That was, perhaps, because it did.
"Here we are." Achati finally said.
Homine turned and looked down to her. "Here we are."
She looked to him briefly, then turned back to the lights. Neither of them wanted to miss a second of this. There was a moment of silence. "Do you think you have ever seen anything like it?"
"I have seen dozens just like it, and yet nothing compares." Homine admitted. He caught a faint smile playing on Achati's mouth.
"I spent eighteen thousand years watching gas clouds form and dissipate in the reaches of space. They were backlit by a sea of stars that I did not even notice at the time. Odd that without them, it makes all the difference."
"The universe has become a piece of cloth stretched taught for one final painting. It is the magnum opus and we are here to watch it be written."
"A shame it will fade."
"All things do."
"Almost all things." Achati let out a deep, rumbling sigh and turned upwards to Homine. Her shell reflected the reaches of the last sun's carcass, but it was no comparison to the real thing. Homine would have to settle for the reflection. He didn't dare avoid meeting her gaze. "You know that we are the answer." She said.
"And you know I never believed that."
"Even in all your millennia of travel you have not changed your mind?" She asked.
"You have not changed yours."
She bowed. "Very well."
"We are not the answer." I finally said. "We are a mistake. A rounding error, an accidental division by zero that spat out something wrong and incomprehensible. By all rules we should not exist."
"They would not be rules if we could break them." She replied, very matter-of-factly. "We are proof that these rules do not exist." Of course, Achati had spent an untold amount of time calculating her arguments. Homine had too, afterall.
"Maybe we cannot break them. Maybe we will fade with the dying of the light."
"Speculation."
Homine shrugged. "No more than the idea that we will last."
"We have lasted this long."
"But we have not lasted since the start. Once upon a time, we did not exist."
"Hard to imagine." Achati said.
"Indeed." Homine looked to the supernova and blinked. A wave of yellow crested in blue dust, tumbling and rolling, fading and leaving. "Do you believe in entropy?"
"We are proof that it does not exist."
"Are you sure?"
Achati thought about it. "Yes." She finally said. "You said that we did not exist before. How do we know that this isn't the first dying of the light?"
"We do not." Homine admitted. "Though, I do not assume our universe started with two like us. Do you?"
"I don't either. No."
"How do you believe it started?"
"How can I say? We were not there."
"No one was, yet everyone has their guesses." Sensing there was not answer to be got, Homine continued. "You do not believe in Entropy, but do you believe in God?"
Achati shook her head. "Of course I do not. You still do?"
"I once thought that I was God." Homine said. "I thought we were both God. For a long time, I thought entropy was God."
"Do you still think this?"
Homine thought about it for a good long while. The blue and green of the supernova was gone by the time he was done. "Yes. In fact, I do."
"Interesting. If there was a God, I always believed it would exist as a force."
"Do you think Entropy is God?"
"Perhaps if I believed in Entropy, I would believe in God." She paused. The yellows and the oranges faded to black. "Yes. I certainly agree with you. Entropy would have been God if only it existed."
Homine smiled at that. He watched last red mist began to droop and fade. "Shall we hold each other for the end?"
"Are you trying to trick me?"
"I gave that up a long time ago." He said. "I just want to know what will happen."
"Once the last light is gone I will be happy to." Achati said.
"Why not as it fades. You know, Achatinoidea, it will not be instant."
She bowed her head. "Yes. I always knew." The red was almost gone when she said, "Yes. I think that's a good idea. As the red fades."
Homine bent down on his knees. Achati got close to him and cupped her in his hands. He stood up straight held her close to my face. The red was gone.
"I wonder what happens next." Homine said.
Achati smiled. Homine did too, a tear dribbling down his cheek. "Let's find out."
Yes, they both agreed. That was a good idea.
| 2017-07-07T06:51:33 | 2017-07-07T05:09:50 | 379 | 145 |
[WP] Aliens have no concept of mental illness. During the great galactic war, humans send in all of their depressed, insane, schizophrenic, psychopathic, etc. to take them by surprise with their "illogical" behavior. | "They are so dissonant."
When we communicate, we sing with melody and harmony. When those things communicate their sound rips my antennas and often their thoughts didn't even match their gibberish vibrations.
But this time was different. I was scouting alone, the chant of Mother still inside of me, guiding me in this scourged land. Then, something awful like the vibrations of cracking of ice ringed inside of me.
We're never alone, we share thoughts with each other, we are Mother's limbs. And this time I felt something strange. Something even stranger than the average human.
There were one body, but a lot of voiced sang in that individual. We never understood terran's songs. We tried. We're still trying. I sang to reach the closest soldiers. They answered. Soon my body will not be alone here.
The human was walking with his horrible squishy appendages, moving his death-dealer in front of him. It looked like a male.
But then again I heard his song, and it terrified me. Three different females were chanting what we learned to be human rage, a feeling that we luckly do not share and still strive to comprehend. They were arguing with another female and two male voices. A human-larvae voice was clearly asking for food. It was the worst.
I can't move. I'm terrified. That human-demon was clearly looking for me. And the moltitude of chants was too much to bear alone. My brain is in pain, and I can't run away from him/her/them. Every step he made towards me only increased the pain. Now he seen me. I'm stuck. I can't even chant for Mother. The One-Not-Alone stopped in front of me.
His chants went quiet when death-dealer ignited, and I was no more.
EDIT: Tried my best with my self-taught english. | This is it. Saving humanity is within my grasp. I had always been depressed. I had always wanted to end it all. Ever since the the wars on Earth had ended. I knew I would end it. I had talked to a thousand shrinks, all paid for by the U.S. Government. I heard it all, until they told me I could be a hero for it. I don't know how they found out, but they did. The aliens didn't understand it. To be depressed was as foreign to them as they were to us. "We're almost there get ready to drop." Halo jumps we're always the worst. It wasn't any easier with a chest full of explosives either. I was to drop in and be captured. They would never think that killing yourself was the thing that you wanted more than anything. They're to think I was going to drop it off as a little present. But really the moment I see the leader I push the button and boom. I'm a big damn hero. They'd never see me coming. The green light to jump came on and I put on my helmet and jumped. The atmosphere on thier home planet was thick. And the gravity was weak. Felt like I fell for hours. Probably did. I pulled my shute and landed. Had to keep on the helmet, can't die yet haven't seen the leader. The leader was the biggest one. I assumed. No one knew. Once I had confirmation I was to hit the button. Or just stop my heart, it was rigged to a heart monitor. It was a 30 mile hike to the base and I had a lot of time to think, to rehash old wounds and let it sink in that I was finally gonna get what I wanted. I had tried once before. Xanax can usually do the trick, if they don't pump your stomach. I went over everything, every part of my life. Don't cry Jimmy, you're a big boy now. Every single foster parent seemed the same. Every new house every new family the same. It was always sympathy, "Oh my God, what a terrible thing to happen to a little boy." All the sympathy they could muster. Then I became that poor kid... FUCK THEM FUCK THEM ALL I HATED THEM THEY NEVER TRULY KNEW WHAT IT WAS LIKE OR EVEN CARED. Coming over the hill I heard a gargled noise. I had heard radio transmissions of thier language but it was so disturbing to hear through comms. They had spotted me. They motioned for me to follow them, with my hands up I did. They took me through the base to the back end down a long flight of stairs... And then I saw him. Even with his semi humanoid face and body I knew he was the most arrogant son of a bitch I've ever met. He stared me in the eye. I motioned for the button...
SIMULATION TERMINATED.
There now Jimmy don't you feel better?
| 2017-07-16T06:13:48 | 2017-07-16T03:56:39 | 47 | 17 |
[WP] For a thousand years you've been trapped inside of a magical sword. Warriors from every century have wielded you in glory. Now you only grace the battlefields of public parks and camping grounds as a novelty sword some L.A.R.P. enthusiast bought on craigslist. | Most people do not remember their first years of life - the brain is too malleable, and events pass from memory as one grows up. I never did. Grow up, I mean. I remember my mother. I remember being sold in the slave markets of some hot country with a profusion of people from all over the world. I remember being taken to a forge, where a smith labored, garbed in clothes I knew were all wrong for a black smith. I remember oils, and sigils, and a white-hot blade being plunged into my heart from my neck. From that moment, I remember *everything*.
Steel is not very plastic at all.
The horrible thing was, I was not even murdered to create a weapon that would be used to fight battles. Over the centuries I have taken lives, now and then. But rarely. And only twice have I been wielded in battle - For, you see. I was just too expensive. The people who could afford me generally sat in throne-rooms and walked around far behind battle-lines. If I had been a normal sword, I would have rusted away, or passed into the keeping of some museum as a relic of a bygone age. But the soul is timeless, and I was bound up wholly in the structure of the blade. So the Damascus steel stayed ever as it was when it was pulled from my mangled, tiny corpse. The gold and jewels of my hilt fell away, and finally, I was sold by a much diminished descendant of a king. On Ebay. Because, of course, a genuine antique would show signs of age. So I must be a replica.
I love Tamara. Tamara gave me a hilt of oak and sharkskin, a practical hilt. A hilt for use. Tamara takes me out of her scabbard and participates in mock melees.
I could bite the innocents she fights, but I do not. That would bring an end to the fun.
Tamara does not use me to murder inconvenient cousins in the dead of night.
Tamara has me on the wall of her dorm, and watching her learn, and have her heart broken by beautiful boys and fair maidens is far more fun than politics and intrigue ever was. Math, in particular is beautiful. There is no end to it. In her dreams I ask questions and give hints. She prospers. I fear her passing. I fear the passing from the earth of all men. For the soul is eternal, and Tamara knows that men, and the earth are not. And so I know it too.
But tomorrow, we will fight and we will win in university park.
Tomorrow will be a good day. Eternity can wait. | **Mid-Blade Crisis**
This is a story of change, my change. A metamorphosis. Not just of my form, but of my spirit; though my form is a product of my spirit, so perhaps there is no difference.
I had bathed in so much blood. The crusades were my peak. I was drunk with power for centuries, and my warrior then was wise, if unconventional. She never told anybody the nature of her strength, and most of her soldiers thought she was a man until she died. Even then, they kept her secret, attending her burial herself. So much blood, so much power. It was enough to sustain the spirit of a blade for centuries, and so it did.
My nature is such that I am shaped by the expectations of those exceptional people who might wield me. I have been a katana, I have been a bastard sword, I have been a stiletto and a claymore. In these modern days I have even been tools, to my shame. But eventually some exceptional youngster comes along, looking for something to pretend to do battle with, and I am a weapon again.
And always, always I take blood. If not from an enemy - so few people have "the enemy" now - if not from the enemy, I will take it from the wielder. A spirit has to eat, after all, same as any man.
Recently, I was the bayonet of a re-enactor. Believing I was a genuine civil war bayonet, I was one, and thus he was reluctant to try to blunt the edge of an artifact so rare, so pristine. But he would not bring me to battle with an edge. And so he made me impotent, helpless to kill. He made a sheath of semi-flexible clear plastic, thick and bulging around the tip and edge. There was no chance I might accidentally cut through. He was always so careful in maintenance. I could not disrupt his focus, could not call for his blood in a careless mistake. Lacking the strength of blood, I fell back on the intensity of those men's emotion. It was a weak substitute, meant only to last until I could truly feed again.
And they were passionate. They fought and they struggled, they tried to win, they worked to overcome. They forged bonds, they formed enmity, comrades and nemeses. And afterwards, the South and the Union got up off the ground, they shooke hands, they talked, they *hugged*. They did not hate the men who defeated their brothers. Even their defeats bound them more closely to the enemy. Even their enemies were men to them, and even these bonds of enmity made them more human, not less.
I have bathed in so much blood. But I am beginning to think that I was not strong. Oh, I was powerful, as were the warriors who bore the burden of feeding my hungers, but was I strong? Were those warriors strong, or only powerful? It took a very long time for me to ask myself what strength truly is. I think it may not be what I thought.
When he died and his grandchild picked me up, it was the first time a child looking for a toy sword *found* a toy sword. Fifty years ago, he would have found a vicious blade, shaped just right for a child's longsword, or an adult's bastard sword, ready to draw the blood of his companions, or himself in some childish mistake. Today, I am a toy. And I surprise myself; I am not ashamed.
*As always, constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged* | 2017-08-04T09:33:26 | 2017-08-04T06:10:39 | 64 | 29 |
[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 started as a small shadow on the ground that glistened and shimmered as it moved. Quickly it swelled, swirled.. pulsed. I was transfixed on the movement.
My shoulder had taken the brunt of the fall but my head had hit the ground with a loud crack. I was too dazed to move... all I could do was watch. The scene played out in slow motion. I tried to concentrate.. fighting against the hazy molasses of what was certainly a concussion.
They quickly grew in number—the shadow growing as more and more spiders poured into the alley. I heard the man with the baseball bat cry out in surprise. It was a horrible scream. The scream shook in the night air. A long, high-pitched howl that quickly turned to gurgle and then suddenly cut short by... something.
I could feel them now. Crawling on me. Crawling around me. Under me. I was too weak to put up any sort of fight. Soon I was floating on the rippling, swelling mass of spiders. My head was throbbing but somehow I could hear a voice. Or was I feeling it? The same phrase, over and over. Words that scratched at the inside of my head. A voice that somehow wrapped around me and held me safely, like a close hug. Warm words that lapped over me like tiny waves.
It was a familiar voice, tinged with gratitude. And it was now repaying the debt. The voice repeated back to me what I had told it many times before, as I had held it softly, gently escorting it out of my house, to the hydrangea bush in the backyard. It was the last thing I heard before I lost consciousness.
*today you... tomorrow me...* | Fear struck my heart as I watched the great book descend towards me, falling with falling with both speed and force. I tried as hard as I could to dash out of the way, but I had noticed it too late. I prepared myself for the end.
The boot froze, the giant pulling back his foot. He bent to the ground, gently pulling me into the skies. I let out a breath of relief as I saw where was taking me- back to the land of the sun. He let me to the ground gently, but before he returned to his cave, left me with a parting whisper.
"Today you, tomorrow me."
I gave a small prayer of thanks to the giant. He had saved me from them.
***
*Seven Years Later*
"Matt!" My dad yelled from the other room. "Go take the trash out."
I sighed loudly, heading into the garage to look for the bags. I found them piled up in the corner, smelling much worse than I had expected. I heaved the first one onto my shoulder, it filled with metal trash and was rather heavy, opened the garage door, and headed towards the dumpster. With a small grunt, I heaved the large bag into the bin. It landed with a resounding clang.
*That was odd.* I thought. *Wasn't today Thursday? Shouldn't there be more trash?* Normally the bags of uneaten food would pad the ground. I shrugged it off, moving to pick up my family's bags of left over lunches and dinners. The bag was far lighter than expected, so when I picked it up, the motion caused the bag to rip.
A few maggots flew out of the bag, one landing on my foot. I jerked back, giving out a small scream as I scrambled to turn on the lights. My fumbling hands finally founds the switch, and as I went back to inspect the bag, I found that there was *no food* left, only a few maggots.
The maggots were dead, small bite sized marks leaving most of them completely disfigured.
I screamed again in shock, stepping back to look at the garage as a hole.
That's when I noticed it. There was a hole in the garage, the size of a soccer ball, that seemed to have been chewed into by something... I stood frozen with a mixture of fear and awe as I wondered how it could have happened. As I stood watching, a few small rays of light began to appear at the end of the tunnel, making me realize two things.
Whatever created that hole was still there, and going inside the house.
The only room with a light on was Luke's.
My two year old brother.
***
Part two coming here (as in this thread) in literally 15 minutes
[r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)!
| 2017-08-28T00:15:26 | 2017-08-27T22:11:20 | 111 | 33 |
[WP] "You... you, did all of this... for a pun?" | “Punnen! Punnen it burns!” his wife screamed in agony. The sores had begun to cover her face...the same sores that had plagued him for the last couple of weeks.
Punnen kept his eyes on his work. Doing his best to drown out the intruding sound, he continued pruning back the overgrowth in his prized garden. It was hard work, keeping his plants trimmed this meticulously. No one understood. No one but Punnen.
“You slept with her didn’t you,” she spat, “that seed vendor from the market? The one you are always carrying on with?” She began to cry softly.
“I am so sorry,” Punnen said slowly, his voice but a whisper. “I just couldn’t help myself.” He gestured toward the corner of his garden at a small sproutling. “I am a man who takes what he wants, and as a result I now have her peas.”
“You... you, did all of this... for a pun?” she managed, her voice wavering.
No... Punnen tended. | The rumbling of the machine woke me up. I was laying on the ground, hands tied behind my back, and legs bound together.
"Oh you're awake, good. Can't have you dying on me before my grand finale mr. Hero,"
My arch nemesis for multiple years, Timothy Eduart or Tim E.
"Now, as I was saying before you kicked me in my face," he says in an annoyed voice, "This machine will bring you and I into a realm beyond time and space. We will be everywhere and nowhere. We will always have existed and never have existed at all,"
A few minutes later we arrive in the realm. There seems to be no boundries within this white landscape, just a flat infinite plane.
"Seems like were here," Tim says with satisfaction. "It seems like were out of time,"
"So, what now?" I ask him angrily.
"I... Don't really know,"
Timothy had always planned everything. He always knew what to say and when to say it. Now that he didn't, it was weird.
Then I realized he had just done his job. All he had planned was to say that one pun. Or... Was it?
"You... You did all this... For a pun?"
Timothy's face lit up when i spoke. "Yes," he said woth a smile on his face. "Yes I did"
"You did all this... For a fucking pun?" I said again, with a clear annoyance in my tone
"Well, it not just any pun you see..."
"Do you realize what you did for that one pun?"
"Ehm... Well it is more like the ultim..."
"You broke into the pentagon, area 51 and numerous other secret locations in order to get the blueprints for this thing, and I pusued you through all of it,"
"Well you see..."
"You killed thousands of innocent people when you attacked new york in order to gain the nessecary parts for this machine, but I stopped you and lost an eye,"
"Didn't see that one com.."
"I CHASED YOU TO THE FUCKING MOON!" | 2018-02-05T07:14:32 | 2018-02-05T06:48:35 | 663 | 34 |
[WP] You've been sent to exercise the demons. Not exorcise, exercise. You don't quite understand it, but you're being paid a lot of money. | Lucifer, the King of Hell, was perturbed. His demons were no longer the fit, muscular, agile beings they used to be. With humanity having managed to be so evil, they were no longer needed on earth. Now the demons only spent their time torturing the souls of the damned, and they could do that with machines. Thus, the once scary horde of evil had grown obese and slow.
This is where I come in. I am just a regular personal trainer at my local gym, but I received the call from the Lord Of Darkness himself, about three months ago. I could tell it was him when my cell rang and all it showed was 666. I decided to answer. This is how the conversation went.
"Good afternoon, may I ask who this is," I ask in my best professional voice. A very deep, but very frantic voice answers back, "Please don't be afraid, I need your services, and quickly. No one else will help." I gain my composure as the voice does freak me out. "It's ok sir, how can I help?"
"You probably already know that I am Lucifer, Lord Of Hell, but I am not calling you about your immortal soul. I need a personal trainer."
I laugh a little. "Sitting on your throne has made you gain a few pounds, huh?" I joke. A slight giggle, if you could call it that, emanates from the other end of the conversation. When the voice speaks it is not as frantic. "No, I'm trying to keep myself in shape. It's my demons. They stay here in hell now that they no longer need to mess up things on Earth. And because of that, they've...well...they've gotten fat. Most of them can't even move. I've called others but they won't take the job." At this he starts to plead. "Please, I'll make you richer than Bill Gates. You'll have billions of dollars for the rest of your life if you do this for me."
My face brightens as I hear this. "Ok sir. There's no need to beg. I'll write up my customary contract that I do for corporate groups and we can hammer out the rest of the details."
A huge sigh of relief can be heard. "Thank you so much!!! I'll bring you down here in two hours time if that's ok." I nod my head. "That's fine sir. I'll see you then." | Shortcuts were Liam's bread and butter. Be it in exams or playing video games, if there was a shortcut he would find and exploit it. He had never been caught, of course, he flew through his senior education with just shy of perfect grades, Liam had mastered the act of flying close to the line.
When Liam reached his twenties, his body had taken a beating throughout the various shortcuts, mainly avoiding hard work at all costs. Laying prone on a bed was the only manageable way to flatten his stomach and Liam learned the hard way that there were no shortcuts to confidence or physical appearance.
At least to begin with he thought there was no shortcut. After a calorie filled drinking session, predictably, Liam took yet another shortcut and cut through an alleyway so dark that even the presence of God would not bring light.
The promise of a perfect body, one that even Liam could not tarnish, was given by the simple signature on a scroll and the deposit of crimson. He had made a drunken deal with a stranger and from there he stumbled home.
In the morning Liam was met by not only a skull-splitting headache but a deep gash on his right hand. Standing upright managed to eclipse his head circus. For the first time since he was eighteen, Liam could see his feet. He felt so light that he practically flew to the bathroom. Liam almost called the mirror a liar. Looking at him was a living Adonis. Washboard abs and pecks that could support buildings. Liam was consumed with vanity.
Liam's perceptions of strength and physique were warped and twisted with the beginning of his new job. A week after his drunken deal he woke to darkness. It was hot and cold at the same time. The first thing he did was to run his hands across his stomach, expecting to be robbed of his finest shortcut. The so desired lumps of muscle were still firmly attached and the comfort he felt was brief. A rectangle of lesser darkness came into view and Liam was hit by rags. His uniform.
Like most new jobs, Liam had to go through human resources. An aptly named department down here. Most questions were answered with unarguable responses. Liam had signed a contract granting him one wish in exchange for his employment. The human resource lady was stunning, drop-dead gorgeous. She had swatted Liam's complaints like the small flies they were. To his surprise, his incapacitated state was not grounds for tearing up the contract. "Devil Juice" was their word for alcohol, invented by the prince himself with the purpose of make mortals more malleable.
Liam's job was exercising the demons of hell. Not the career path Liam had chased. But the option seemed a damn lot better than being an inmate. Within the first month, he had been dubbed "S-King". Which either stood for the Shit King or the Shortcut King. Liam worked fifteen-hour shifts in an environment that solely catered for the demons and spent most of those fifteen hours cleaning up demon sweat, which smelled a damn sight worse than human sweat.
There were no mirrors in hell, no chance for Liam to flaunt his figure. The rags he wore were loose and dirty like they had been found on a car mechanics floor. The last human he had seen was the mouth-watering Brenda from HR, and he had been permitted one visit a year. Frankly, his physique was a joke, the demons he trained made him look like a five-year-old boy. A cruel joke indeed. | 2018-02-06T07:11:56 | 2018-02-06T06:09:18 | 56 | 42 |
[WP] Turns out Humans are tiny compared to any other species of aliens, allowing them to live off in the nooks and crannies of alien spaceships. Colonies can live on ships for generations unseen and unknown, or have a mutually beneficial relationship with a crew. | "Do you have anything to declare?"
"...No?"
"You seem hesitant sir, are you certain?"
"Well... maybe, I don't know."
"Sir, this is a yes or no question."
"Okay... say, hypothetically, a ship visited a liquid water bearing planet... and gathered some biomass for research."
"...Oh?"
"AND, and let's say... 60 cycles later they, hypothetically, discovered a uh... dwelling?"
"A dwelling? On the planet?"
"No, uh... on the ship. In a... cabinet."
"Okay... so you found a nest or something, clearly you picked up a few lifeforms so if You'd let m-"
"-N-No! I mean... It wasn't a nest. It was more of a... city."
"..."
"...Made of office supplies and testing equipment."
"When you say city..."
"They have a working septic system and three cinemas. HYPOTHETICALLY! I mean."
"Are they... hypothetically, are they a nuisance?"
"They fixed our warp drive for some protein rations."
"I... thank you for docking at Star Platform 9. Have a pleasant stay." | By now you might not consider this species human. Now, that word doesn't exactly carry with it a connotation of dignity, but it might have at some point in time.
The species of human was not originally so animal, but as time went on and they adapted to a new surrounding, they found themselves acting in a much less becoming manner.
Of course, you know humans as the disgusting pests that infest seemingly every spaceship and city in the Intergalactic Republic. They spread disease, breed rapidly, and live off of our trash.
Humans come from a tiny, barely noticeable planet called Earth, which lies in an insignificant corner of the Milky Way Galaxy. As you might be aware, parts of the Milky Way were sanctioned off by government decree to be a nature reserve. It was only once some limits were removed that people were allowed to explore the area in more detail, and that was when someone noticed a small planet swarming with tiny creatures. These adorable little things had created a surprisingly complex society of their own. Being no more than a tenth the size of an average person, this explorer took several of them and put them on display. They quickly multiplied. Ever heard the phrase "breed like humans"?
Little did that explorer know that he would forever change that species.
The caged life is a poor fit for the spirit of the human, and hundreds eventually escaped. They spread quickly throughout our planets by finding our spacecraft to be very suitable homes. Eventually, their scavenging lifestyle led to them being hated and feared by us. They reacted by shirking from our contact and retreating to the shadows.
I write this to make people more aware. The human was not always a pest. It once was part of a sophisticated colony, not like the ones we see now. The human moved from a world where it had no predators, to one where it was merely prey.
So, next time you encounter a human, think of how it might not be such an animal if things had turned out just a little differently.
Written by Dr. Zholar \- Bipedal Researcher for the University of Triangulum. | 2018-05-30T16:07:47 | 2018-05-30T15:47:06 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] One night, you are taken into a UFO for several hours. You don’t remember much, and question your sanity. Weeks later a call comes in from the alien’s law enforcement, asking if you’d like to press charges for unlawful abduction. | "I'm sorry could you run that by me again?"
The voice from the other end had that canny but satisfying retro feeling to it that my asking again was half because some person introduced herself as an intergalactic law enforcement operative who called me up and confirmed what I'd been questioning for weeks now, and half because I just had the strangest urge to pin that voice and whoever was behind it against the wall and run my tongue against her collarbone.
"I am Eid'ee, interspecies security operative representing the Milky Way district of the United Galaxies Sentients Safety and Security Department, and I am here to offer you help with your unfortunate abduction."
Yeah, it was the exact same thing she said earlier and it didn't make any more sense than it did before, but I sure as hell still had the hots for that voice.
What did I have to lose anyway with playing along?
"This is all so sudden," I said over the phone. I was feeling sheepish for actually going with this, but hell, if I could exact justice for whaever weird shit I got roped into then it'd be awesome, and at least I get to listen to this sizzling habanera. "Can I know what are my options?"
"Thank you for expressing your interest sir..."
"Hugh," I supplied. "Please call me Hugh."
"Thank you sir Hugh, I'll be coming by shortly if it's not too much trouble. It would be easier to discuss these delicate matters in person."
Okay, that just sent some red flags going off in my head. But she sounded so hot I couldn't even bother to think otherwise. Was this one of her alien powers or something? And since when did I actually start considering the alien part was true anyway?
I cleared my throat. "Uhh, sure, maybe some cafe somewhere?"
"You just need to clear some space in your living room sir Hugh."
Well shit, was she a stalker or something? "I'm sorry what?"
Then a mass of blue sparkles just appeared over the faux bear rug I never got around to getting rid of, and from the silhouette of light came a figure like I'd never seen before.
It was a giant of a hulking mass of muscled man, maybe a ton or more, all that raw musculine power held against a tight fitting suit of silver and machismo.
"Good morning sir Hugh," came the too hot voice from the horribly dissonant body. "It's nice to meet you."
The neighbors probably thought a girl scout got showered in cockroaches from the scream I'd let out that day. | The phone started to buzz. A buzzing phone was a sound I had not heard in several years. Nobody used the telephone anymore. Newer technology was available, Feeling Transfer, FT for short, was where most communication happened today. Technology changed as fast as the cosmos beings lived in changed. A telephone call was something special, it was slow, it required more interpersonal discussion.
It rang three times, four, finally I mustered up the courage to answer it.
"Sir Henry Jenger?" a pause from the phone. I responded slowly, "Well, of course it's me. You had to dial 23 characters to reach me. What do you want, why on Zerlak would you be calling me on such archaic technology?" Clicks came through the phone, "My name is Geb with Transport. We've- well, Sir, we've discovered a rogue entity from another quadrant of the known Cosmos, Sir."
This brought me back to my days in the Galactic Utility Unit. The species I talked to sounded not unlike those high up in ranks, a species born to rule the Cosmos. "And--" I snarled.
"And- Sir, we understand you were abducted. An abduction that you may not remember much of, a serious concern for humans such as yourself. You're simply--"
"Unequipped both physically and mentally," I knew what the being was insinuating, and I knew I had been abducted in the weeks previous, of this I was sure. I had no idea to what extent it would have affected me, however. Reality seemed to be slipping like light through the Cosmos. In the current reality you couldn't know as a human what things the other species were capable of doing, sometimes without you even realizing it. Humans were old technology, not unlike the telephone I begrudgingly occupied.
"Sir Henry, are you there?"
I thought a moment. A thought that somehow still allowed my mind to rest after the endless thoughts that flowed through my head for the last fortnight. Thought of how to proceed, with my newly adorned sanity. My sanity was intact, I was able to hold onto that, but I did not lack concern of it slipping as of late. "I am here, how do we proceed," I responded.
"Would you like to press charges, Sir?"
Pressing charges. They had caught the rogue specimen in the act of occupying another human, or something similar from what I gathered in the next few minutes on the telephone. Pressing charges would help put him into Endless for the rest of his life cycle. I didn't know what had been done to me during that time I spent with the being. Did any of it matter at the end of the day? I had my faculties, unlike other stories you hear from distant worlds. He took nothing of value that I could imagine, these days I rest easy, knowledge of my days with the G.U.U. were past and distant. I retained nothing of value in my head. I drank my days away and partook in some illicit activities. Endless however, that was a hell I could not wish on any being. My existence was a fraction of the time most known species lived for.
"No, you won't have me pressing any charges. I can't let anything suffer on account of me, I do enough suffering on my own."
"Well alright, Sir, are you quite sure--" I slammed the phone down, and picked up a bottle of Synthise. I drank to remember for once. Maybe I had remembered it all inside of me already, my mind had never slipped. Well, there's only one way to find out. I gulped directly from the bottle, my mind expanded, and I sunk directly through the couch. | 2018-11-25T23:25:43 | 2018-11-25T21:47:21 | 1,254 | 207 |
[WP] You lay there, in the middle of nowhere, dying. There at your side a ghost appears, he's not there to save you, he can't. He's there to give you company, so you won't die alone like it did so many years ago. | I can’t feel anything.
No, that’s not true.
Everything *burns.*
White fire rips through my muscles, tears apart my sinew, and pulls me from the blissful nothing. My breath hitches - I can’t get it past my swollen lips.
Am I upside down? I can’t tell. The seatbelt chokes me against the leather. I can’t move my right arm. It’s pinned to my side. *I promised I'd be home.*
With my left, I reach out. Shards of metal and ribbons of glass meet my hand. I can’t move more than half a foot before the electric pain bolts through my nerves again.
I run my tongue over my shattered teeth.
It’s late. Last time I checked, the little red dashboard clock was flashing 02:53. No one is coming down the country road - not for a long while.
*Oh god.*
I’ve never been a praying man. Is it ever too late to start? I can’t cross myself and I can’t remember the words my grandmother taught me so long ago. *Oh god oh god.*
No one is coming.
*Oh God.*
*God.*
“It’s okay,” a soft voice says. “Try and take a deep breath.”
“I - I can’t.” My words sputter out with blood.
“Shh. Don’t speak. Just breathe.”
I try to open my eyes. They’re too swollen.
“It will be alright,” the soft voice says. “You have me.”
I can almost believe her. The blistering pain cools under my skin. The world is distant - a memory of a dream. *I promised to come home.*
A cool, soft hand rests on my brow. “You don’t need to be afraid.”
“‘Are you my angel?” My voice rattles, empty.
She pauses. “Of a sort.”
I try to reach out, to touch her, if only for a moment.
I can’t.
She hums. “The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,” she says.
I know this one. *But I have promises to keep*. I don't try to breathe - I don't need to.
The softness of her voice floats through sunken worlds. “And miles to go before you sleep.”
*Miles to go before I sleep.*
---
/r/liswrites
| The car had fallen into a river, apparently. I couldn't remember it clearly; the entire night had been a blur. One second, I had been driving, the next, I found myself in freezing cold water, still buckled in my seat. I was watching myself from outside my body, which terrified me to no end. The glass from my windows had shattered and a trail of blood from my forehead leaked into the dirty, foggy water.
I pushed at the door, numb.
"I wouldn't do that," a man said. I didn't jump. I continued pushing against the door repeatedly. It wouldn't budge.
I ignored the fact that my hands would pass through the door every few pushes.
"Let me out," I whispered into the water. "I want to live. I need to breathe." A small voice in the back of my head said, '*You're in shock, Stanley. You have to hurry. You're drowning, stupid*.'
"That's what I thought," the man said. "But it's not going to budge. Plus, there's tons of logs and-"
"Shut up! Shut up. I need to work." I stared at the door, avoiding looking at my cold, unmoving body. More blood seeped into the water from my head, and I was noticing that the glass had badly cut my hands.
I clenched the hands I couldn't see and began trying to unbuckle my body, looking away as I did so.
A man's pale face appeared in my vision. He looked sad, almost mournful.
"Why can I see you?" I asked wearily when the seatbelt wouldn't release. "Can you help me get out? I can live after this."
"You've been under here for minutes, my friend. Your body is beyond dying." The man gave a shrug and gestured at my body"s chest. "No breathing. You're in the last stretch of dying. That's why I'm here."
"Since you're here, help me. Don't try and tell me I'm dead!" I snapped, feeling myself begin to shake.
He tried touching the seatbelt, but his hand passed through both the belt and me. "See?"
I closed my eyes, feeling more weary than I had on the road. "I don't want to die! I don't want to die!" I hit the dashboard, but the scattered glass didn't move-in fact, my hands just passed through the entire dashboard.
"Help me get out," I said, beginning to panic. "Find help."
The man shook his head. "Let me keep you company. I didn't get it in death, and that was the worst way to go."
I gazed at my body and settled down, realizing that this really was it.
I was dying.
"I'm sorry you didn't get company," I said softly, not knowing what else to say.
The man just smiled and shook his head. "At least I can offer you my company. Here, my name is Connor. What's yours?"
"Stanley. It's... nice to meet you. Thank you, Connor."
"I hope those you leave behind will remember you."
I sighed. "Me too."
We sat in silence, watching the water swish around my body. I could feel the edges of my mind fading away into death.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"No, thank *you* for giving me some company." | 2019-03-28T19:21:52 | 2019-03-28T18:42:29 | 159 | 50 |
[WP] After a treasure hunt with your friends, you make it to the treasure. But instead of the wealth you were told about, it was a note congratulating you on your journey and that the real treasure was the friends you made on the way. Only problem is that all your friends died getting you this far. | We were on a holiday in Turkey. After some days of lazying around, we decided to do something more adventurous. Eventually, we ended up in some ancient pub in Yassihöyük. There we met an eccentric drunkard who entertained us with stories about the local legends. He was difficult to understand at first, not because his slurred tongue, but because he only spoke Greek. After some jugs of wine, it was somehow easier to understand him. He told us of a secret cavern which contained an unimaginable treasure. Filled with liquid courage, we decided to humor him and search for the cavern right away.
It took a few days, but eventually we found the cavern. It did not show any sign of recent human activity, so we decided to carefully enter the entrance, carefully pushing the grapevines away. After descending into the darkness, the only light shining from our phones, we eventually found something interesting. It was some kind of gate nut with a rather particular opening mechanism. It was a statue of some guy with donkey ears, which seemingly has to be pushed aside to keep the gate open. It looked like quite a heavy statue, so we decided that I would enter through the gate while my other friends would keep pushing the statue. So they pushed the statue, while I ducked into the opening.
On the other side of the gate was a marble chamber, reminiscent of the ancient Hellenic temples. The chamber was adorned with decorations, but only contained a single noticeable object: a stone urn. I cautiously walked to the urn and gave it a careful shake to get a glimpse of its contents. By the sound of it, it seemed to contain some kind of parchment, and nothing else. I put my hand in the urn and grabbed the content. The parchment seemed to be in good shape and seemed to be written in Ancient Greek, which I was able to translate with some difficulty.
"Congratulations with reaching this place. Unfortunately, this tomb does not contain any treasures. Instead, it is your companions which are the treasure you are looking for. I hope you can live with yourself after what has transpired in this cavern.
Midas of Phrygia"
&#x200B;
I laughed at the text, creating such an elaborate chamber, only to contain a simple message which seemed straight out of some children's tale. Then I read the name at the end. I recollected my memories about Greek mythology, and remembered the story about the king with the golden touch. I was suddenly struck with a dark sense of foreboding. "Guys, are you still there?" But silence was the only answer. I looked at the gate, and the entrance seemed to be sill open. I crawled though the passage and returned to the cavern. When I stood up, I shone my light in the direction of the statue and my worst fear was confirmed. My friends were not alive anymore, but it were not corpses which remained, only massive golden statues, shaped perfectly in their likeliness.
I am now a rich man beyond imagination. The treasure I sold was very valuable after all. But I will never again touch a drop of alcohol. For when I do, my dreams are filled with the richest treasures, treasures which look at me accusingly with frozen visages made of glimmering lifeless metal . | "Oh great, for all the gaudy it was just another clue. Well fine then, what have you got in store for me, Mr. eccentric King?"
"Congratulations! You have found my treasure dear adventurers. Maybe this wasn't what you wanted, but it is surely what you needed. What you may now lack in gold is made up for in the vastness of your friendship, and surely your days shall be filled with joy far more than any amount of money or jewels could give you.
May your days be bright,
King Solnum."
...Excuse me? That's it? Some forest whelps storybook power of friendship ending? That's what my last hope was? That's what all my friendly act was for? Running through shitty mazes, dodging spike walls, spears, freaken' random boulders coming outta nowhere?!?!? Talking to those short-lived apes like we are actually ALLIES?!?!?!
I COULD HAVE DIED TO THAT SHIT! AND YOU'RE TELLING ME ALL THIS WAS FOR THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP! MY LAST BLOODY ACT WAS JUS-
"*cough* Judging by that look on your face, it's another clue isn't it?"
Oh right. The mayfly. Stabbed him right before the treasure; I really needed the money you see, so did he but he was *nice* and was willing to split it, including with the firefly despite her losing her head a room back. Isn't he just trying to take a bigger cut? The Cut Ears aren't very nice though, and I owe them a whole, whole lot.
"That's what you get you know, now you have to do it all alone-"
Yea yea, mayfly, it's actually worse then you know... wait should I show him? It's not in a good performance to play with the audience like that, but the faces would be nice...
"-but a backstabbing knife-ear like you it's completely fitting, waste away chasing your pot of gold through an endless labyrinth then."
Showing him. Damn the class. "Ha, actually no I shall not. This is the end of the "quest" as he so liked to call it. Look at it yourself."
At first, he was showing doubt, then his eyes froze up... Then... crying? I guess that is frustration.
"You're saying it was always futile? That this could have never got the money to cure her? That Anne was doomed from the start?" Oh, there is despair. He said that very faintly, in fact, if I was an elf I wouldn't have head that. Or is that all he could say now? I did get him through the liver, bleeding a lot, actually quite messy but I was in a hurry.
"At least you don't have to leave here, I still have to face the Cut ears ov-"
Hey, wait. Face. I may be a complete failure in terms of navigating our political sector but I am a full Mascarade actor. (why must actors have politics again?) I mean, no one has tried it on a human, but then again humans could never really get high enough to matter to anyone who would need a call for performance, and their mana is incredibly rough and unrefined. And those lowborn scum Cut Ears would have never even heard of an actor before. That firefly was able to throw a few fireballs, so she should have some mana in her... kidneys, was it? Humans have strange biology. That would mask (heh) me from their mana detection, hell even the gate wouldn't be able to hide me if I repressed myself, and the mayfly here didn't seem here for backstage reasons, and once I am out of that blasted underground fortress-city...
Oops, got ahead of myself there in my thoughts and the insect died. Better move quickly, the mask is best made when they are still alive, and the skin only gets harder the longer they are dead. Damnit Telneth, overthinking things got you here in the first place. Just move your hands.
...Actually, maybe that nutjob Solnum was actually on to something, I did find something that got me out of this more then gold or jewels would. Perhaps I should give his son a performance to thank him.
Or was it Great Grandson? The mayflies sure don't live long enough. | 2019-06-20T01:00:24 | 2019-06-19T23:42:31 | 71 | 10 |
[WP] God has been watching as human technology gets more advanced. With each advancement it becomes easier for them to kill each other. In order to save his creation he adds an 11th commandment. "Thou Shalt not use any form of projectile weapon, melee only you cowards.". | As the screaming fanatics rushed towards the fence -a fence which bristled with a multitude of gun barrels like the back of a militarized porcupine- a divine flash of light surged into the foray.
“MY CHILDREN!” A voice boomed, directed at the US Military soldiers“THIS FIGHT IS TOO EPIC TO BE FOUGHT WITH WEAPONS SUCH AS THESE!”
The soldiers did not hesitate, even in the presence of the divine. They took aim, firing with casual discipline at the makeshift force ahead. However, it was not to be.
God pulled a matrix, forcing thousands of bullets to a standstill. “LISTEN!” The gunmetal shimmered, rearranging itself into Spears, swords, and all melee devices in between.
“YOU SHALL DO COMBAT IN THE MANNER OF OLD! THIS IS MY WORD! MY WORD IS LAW!”
With that, the light vanished, and the melee to end all melees commenced. Though the battle was bloody, arduous, and well fought, the united forces of redditors everywhere triumphed, their greater numbers lending a decisive advantage.
They had done it.
They had stormed Area 51. | Charles nearly lost grip of his hilt as the jeep hit a bump in the road, preparing to venture down the impending fork ahead. Picking his whetstone, he resumed his project.
"ATTEN-TION" A command that had come from the head of the convoy. Charles opened the door to the jeep and filed out behind the heavy mace user in front of him.
"You all know your squads, please enter them. Charles was the captain of his squad, and his mates made eye contact with him, and lined up behind him in a timely fashion. Accompanying Charles in to battle were about 4 others. A mace user by the name of Humphrey, a sword and shield user by the name of Duncan, an axe user named William, and an archer by the name of Watson. To the surprise of each world's military, bows and arrows still remained in operation, however compound bows faded into the void along with firearms.
"Alright men, today we will be facing a unique enemy. Their fighting style is unique, along with the style of their weapons, it is advised you take caution, and protect our ace. This isn't his first time facing the Japanese, and they will surely be out for blood seeking vengeance for their comrades he has slain. Charles, the archers will make sure to focus on your area when a flare is sighted, and our convoy units will also be nearby if support is needed. However, once you get in the midst of fighting, you will be on your own."
Charles nodded, and removing his two-handed sword from his hilt, he silently and solemnly stepped forward to the front of his battalion. In the distance, the familiar noise of swords being removed from their sheaths could be heard. Charles continued to review what he knew of the Japanese fighting styles. Primarily solo duelers, they did not tend to fight in groups, but singlehandedly against an opponent. However, after their first battles, they realized this was not always the most effective way of fighting, and occasionally had archers and convoy to assist them. Although, this did not stop the common soldier to stop, raise his katana, and charge at Charles upon recognizing his armor.
After remembering all of this, Charles sighed and admired his sword, and began marching forward across the green grass. | 2019-08-12T14:09:13 | 2019-08-12T12:01:06 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] You put your 5-year-old daughter in an elevator by herself, and run to the next floor to make her laugh when the doors open. You get there, the elevator arrives and a 20-year-old woman steps out. "Hello Dad. We have a lot to talk about" | I remember dad and I would always play this game. When the elevator door closed I would close my eyes during the descent and wait for my dad to surprise me, but this time the elevator came to a jerking stop. I immediately opened my eyes and seeing what appeared to be the paths of life I could take surround me. I didn’t know what I was looking at at the time. Stepping closer to a path I felt the gravity pull me, I looked around and I’ve always been fond of water, so the second I saw a beach I went into it. Little did I know, I would end up on an island far from where my dad was waiting for me.
I spent the next 15 years building a life for myself and trying to figure out what exactly happened. Have I always been on this island?
Was I dreaming of playing a game with my father?
Did I have a father?
The island was absent of other human life forms, but I did discover ruins. Tunnels that seemed to go on and on, a library full of literature, I didn’t have a concept of time, but I knew that I was 5 when I was in the elevator and the library had so much knowledge that I eventually found a book on space and time.
I managed to survive living off the abundance of fruit and pools of fish that were easy to catch. The waves would occasionally bring in fresh fish that ended up trapped in the dug out karst pools. After sunset the fish would jump from pool to pool with their only end goal of making it back to the ocean. I often thought we were similar.
After 15 years I had mapped and explored almost every bit of the ruins, it was as if an ancient civilization lived here once, I never found grave sites or traces of human activity, but I did find a peculiar room that had a glow behind its door. As I opened the door, I saw what I remember seeing at 5. Surrounded by what I thought were paths, I came to the understanding that they were alternate dimensions, I spent months examining the many glimpses of dimensions I could enter. One stood out. It was a man stuck in a loop waiting at an elevator door. Overwhelmed with the possibility of returning back home, I stepped into the possibility and the elevator door opened.
“Hello dad, we have a lot to talk about.” | "Daaaaddy, I don't want to do it! What if something goes wrong?" My daughter, Anna-Maria asked. She was never really one to do something like that, but my mother and I did it all the time. What could go wrong?
"Annie, trust me. It'll be fun, and if I'm not there, run to the lobby." I said as the doors closed. Running in loafers, and a full on suit was hard. I ran as fast as I could, but as I got to the lobby, the doors were opening. I sprinted as fast as I could as a beautiful woman emerged. She looked similar to my Anna-Maria, but.. older. The same wild blonde curls. The same wide, adventurous light brown eyes. I ran a hand through my own hair.
"Anna-Maria..?" I managed to muster out. The woman standing in front of me wore natural make up.
"Hello, Dad. We have a lot to talk about, don't we?" She asked, tilting her head to the side, like a dog would. Her pink lips curled into a small smile.
"Anna-Maria- how long were you on the elevator?" I sputtered, my eyes wide.
"Dad, I was on the elevator for a minute at most," The girl chuckled, and shook her head "Are you alright? You seem a bit pale."
"Annie, I haven't seen you in fifteen years. Of course I'm not alright. Last time I saw you, you called me Daddy and were scared to go on the elevator in fear that something would go wrong." I replied.
"Of course not. That was again, fifteen years ago. Once you and mom got a divorce, you moved away. Oh, you don't look any different from when I was five." She rolled her eyes jokingly. The woman put a warm, gentle hand on my cheek. She then pulled me into a tight hug.
"I missed you so much.." she murmured.
I pulled away, running a hand through my brown curls. "What year is it?" I asked.
"It's 2019.. remember?" She had a look of worry on her face.
"No... It's 2004. It has to be." I insisted, crossing my arms.
"Dad, I really think you should lay down." She insisted, picking up her bags. Hopefully, this is just a dream so when I wake up, my little Anna-Maria will be jumping up and down on my bed trying to wake me up.
"Anyway, we should get going. I have to unpack. Oh, I hope you didn't forget. Where you live is much more convenient for my college."
Almost speechless, I managed to mutter, "Right... of course.." I was honestly mostly in a daze. "Er- I'll take the bags for you." I said, picking up her suitcases.
As we walked back to my apartment in New York City, I couldn't help but think how scary this could be.. Is it possible I just found my daughter's older doppelgänger? And my daughter was still waiting in the elevator? And that this woman was simply an imposter? I sure hope not.. If it were really my daughter..
Time couldn't of gone by that fast.. had it..? | 2019-09-07T19:55:10 | 2019-09-07T18:57:47 | 1,554 | 22 |
[WP] You put your 5-year-old daughter in an elevator by herself, and run to the next floor to make her laugh when the doors open. You get there, the elevator arrives and a 20-year-old woman steps out. "Hello Dad. We have a lot to talk about" | “Hello, Dad we have a lot to talk about and I don’t have a lot of time.”
She had the same dark brown eyes and dark black hair as my little girl. A birthmark on her right check just like Olivia’s. There was a scar on her forehead that I didn’t know. I shook my head. This was some twisted prank.
“Please, believe me. I don’t have a lot of time to explain. There had to be an equal exchange. For me to come, Young Olivia had to go back or rather forward. It’s temporary. It’s been hard for us to pinpoint days and times to warn others from the Before. But this memory of the elevator game was so strong from the Before that I knew it would work.”
“What are you talking about?” I felt panicked holding open the elevator door looking for my daughter. “What happened to my daughter?” I demanded loudly.
“Dad, I am your daughter or at least will be.” She choked on a sob. Tears dropped down her face in a wild messy manner. “I had so many things that I wanted to say and damn it, I’ve botched it all. You have five years until it happens when life changes for everyone on this planet. You have to start preparing now. There are others that the Resistance have contacted to make sure this future doesn’t pass.”
She handed me a notebook. It was my own handwriting, but I had never seen it before. With trembling hands, I took it.
“I’ve got to go.” She said stepping back in the elevator. “I love you, Dad. I just want to say that one more time.”
“I love you, too” I reached out to squeeze her hand as the elevator shut before I could touch her.
The elevator door dinged again and there was my little Liv. She looked a little confused and was holding a worn looking teddy bear. I took her in my arms hugging her tightly. We went back up the apartment. I put on some cartoons to distract her as she babbled about being in a white room filled with people. I took the tattered teddy bear to my room and compared it to the brand new bear that I bought for her birthday next week. They were the same except for the wear and tear. I looked at the notebook. I had a lot of reading to do tonight. | "Daaaaddy, I don't want to do it! What if something goes wrong?" My daughter, Anna-Maria asked. She was never really one to do something like that, but my mother and I did it all the time. What could go wrong?
"Annie, trust me. It'll be fun, and if I'm not there, run to the lobby." I said as the doors closed. Running in loafers, and a full on suit was hard. I ran as fast as I could, but as I got to the lobby, the doors were opening. I sprinted as fast as I could as a beautiful woman emerged. She looked similar to my Anna-Maria, but.. older. The same wild blonde curls. The same wide, adventurous light brown eyes. I ran a hand through my own hair.
"Anna-Maria..?" I managed to muster out. The woman standing in front of me wore natural make up.
"Hello, Dad. We have a lot to talk about, don't we?" She asked, tilting her head to the side, like a dog would. Her pink lips curled into a small smile.
"Anna-Maria- how long were you on the elevator?" I sputtered, my eyes wide.
"Dad, I was on the elevator for a minute at most," The girl chuckled, and shook her head "Are you alright? You seem a bit pale."
"Annie, I haven't seen you in fifteen years. Of course I'm not alright. Last time I saw you, you called me Daddy and were scared to go on the elevator in fear that something would go wrong." I replied.
"Of course not. That was again, fifteen years ago. Once you and mom got a divorce, you moved away. Oh, you don't look any different from when I was five." She rolled her eyes jokingly. The woman put a warm, gentle hand on my cheek. She then pulled me into a tight hug.
"I missed you so much.." she murmured.
I pulled away, running a hand through my brown curls. "What year is it?" I asked.
"It's 2019.. remember?" She had a look of worry on her face.
"No... It's 2004. It has to be." I insisted, crossing my arms.
"Dad, I really think you should lay down." She insisted, picking up her bags. Hopefully, this is just a dream so when I wake up, my little Anna-Maria will be jumping up and down on my bed trying to wake me up.
"Anyway, we should get going. I have to unpack. Oh, I hope you didn't forget. Where you live is much more convenient for my college."
Almost speechless, I managed to mutter, "Right... of course.." I was honestly mostly in a daze. "Er- I'll take the bags for you." I said, picking up her suitcases.
As we walked back to my apartment in New York City, I couldn't help but think how scary this could be.. Is it possible I just found my daughter's older doppelgänger? And my daughter was still waiting in the elevator? And that this woman was simply an imposter? I sure hope not.. If it were really my daughter..
Time couldn't of gone by that fast.. had it..? | 2019-09-07T21:43:45 | 2019-09-07T18:57:47 | 45 | 22 |
[WP] After the Battle of Hogwarts, Dudley met a woman and they had a daughter,Sophie. Sophie is the light of their lives,she's always been a pleasant child. The morning of Sophie's 11th birthday,there’s a knock at the door. Harry is here to visit his cousin for the first time in almost 20 years.
I just want to say that I'm super excited to read these responses! I'm holding off reading them until my kiddo goes to bed so I can sit and really pay attention to your stories!!
I can't wait to see what you guys come up with | Dudley peered out the window at the guest on the porch. He was tall and lean, with thick round glasses pushed back gently against his nose. His black hair was receding slightly on his forehead, no longer covering the etched lightning scar on his forehead.
"Christ," whispered Dudley. It had been years since he had seen Harry. Decades even. Part of him had believed that Harry had died. But here Harry was, standing on his porch.
"Who is it, darling?" Megan was sitting on the couch, eyes fixed on the telly.
"It's..." Dudley trailed off. He had never told Megan about Harry. She would never have believed him even if he had. But now, on her 11th birthday... "It's an old friend," Dudley said. "A very old friend."
He stepped back from the window and, after taking a deep breath, swung open the door.
"Hello Harry."
"Hello Dudley." Harry's eyes flicked up and down Dudley for a moment. "It's been a while."
Dudley nodded, and motioned for Harry to enter. Harry crossed the threshold, pulling of his dragonskin gloves as he did.
"Ah, and you must be Mrs. Dursley," Harry said, and his voice brimmed with warmth. Dudley watched as his cousin strowed to the couch, hand extended. Megan, standing from the couch, smiled.
"Darling, this is Harry," said Dudley, nervously twiddling his thumbs.
"And how do you know Dudley?" said Megan. Dudley caught her eyes tracing the lightning scar. Harry seemed amused at the question, and he let out a small chuckle.
"He's an old friend, dear," Dudley said softly. Harry glanced quickly at Dudley, a smile still flickering.
"Yes, yes," he said, grasping Megan's hand. "Dudley and I have quite the history."
"Well, what a wonderful surprise," said Megan, beaming at Dudley. "He never brings his old friends 'round!"
Dudley did not return her smile. He knew Harry wasn't here to reminisce, nor to meet his wife. Dudley still remembered the letters.
"I think Harry is here on business, darling," Dudley said, glancing at the pocket of Harry's long cloak. "Shall I go get her?"
Harry nodded. Dudley began towards the stairs.
"Business?" Megan queried to no one in particular. Dudley stopped at the base of the stairs. He did not want to explain to her. He did not want to have to tell her about magic. How does one even do such a thing? Harry seemed to have read his mind, because he motioned for Dudley to continue, and turned to Megan.
"Has your daughter ever done something that you could not explain?" | There he was, that same messy black hair, though now with a touch of grey at the temples, that same skinny, almost lanky, build. Though he looked somehow more solid than before. Glasses still perched on his nose, though the bridge was no longer held together by tape. And that scar, still there after all this time, though it seemed somehow , less prominent than it had been that night nearly 20 years before...
&#x200B;
"Heya, big D" Harry said after a very awkward silence. He half smiled, looking slightly uncertain. And Dudley couldn't
really blame him. Their parting that night hadn't been exactly acrimonious, but it wasn't really a familial parting either. Dudley had declared to his father that he didn't think Harry a waste of space, and then had fled, feeling uncomfortable at his mother's overbearing reaction.
&#x200B;
That night had been the beginning of several changes in Dudley Dursley's life. Before, the entire family had been united in its fear and hatred of Harry Potter. But Dudley's admission had made a crack in that facade. That crack widened until his falling out with his parents about two years later. He hadn't spoken to either of them since, though he had heard that they had divorced not long after.
&#x200B;
Dudley found himself unable to speak, he wanted to say something, apologize for all the pain and fear he had caused Harry during their childhood. He wanted to tell Harry how he tried to be different than the example Vernon had shown, he tried to teach little Sophie to be kind and generous, to stand up for others and to never make fun of people for being different. But no words came to him.
&#x200B;
After the silence stretched even longer, Dudley raised his hand and took a hesitant step forward. He wasn't sure if he wanted to shake Harry's hand or beckon him inside, he didn't know what he was going to do...
&#x200B;
There was a flash of caution in Harry's eyes and his hand twitched towards the pocket of the jacket he was wearing. But before Harry could draw a wand, Dudley had embraced his long lost cousin and broken down into tears.
&#x200B;
"I-I'm so s-s-s-Sorry!" He cried as he pulled harry close. "Every day s-s-since I sa-saw you last I've th-thought about wh-what I d-did to you!"
Harry's body relaxed slightly as Dudley cried, and Dudley felt his cousin reach up and pat him on the back in a reassuring, if slightly unsure, way.
"It's alright Dudley" Harry said finally "Thank you"
&#x200B;
Dudley took a step back as he released Harry with a gasp, feeling as though he had been punched in the gut. He had finally put together the circumstances of Harry's visit. Sophie's eleventh birthday was just two days away, and all the madness about Wizards and Magic had started right around Harry's eleventh birthday.
"Sophie?" Dudley wheezed unable to say more through the shock of his realization.
&#x200B;
"Yes" said Harry, now genuinely smiling "Professor McGonagall sent me an Owl yesterday morning to ask if I would like to deliver her letter in person" Harry pulled a small yellowish envelope of parchment from his pocket as he spoke.
&#x200B;
Even thirty years later, Dudley knew he would never forget that envelope with the red wax seal.
&#x200B;
Dudley squared his shoulders, and did the thing his parent's should have done all those years ago. He stepped to one side, smiling a broad, genuine smile, and gestured for his cousin to enter. "Please," he said "Come in, make yourself at home" | 2019-10-16T11:32:26 | 2019-10-16T11:18:18 | 519 | 173 |
[WP] After the Battle of Hogwarts, Dudley met a woman and they had a daughter,Sophie. Sophie is the light of their lives,she's always been a pleasant child. The morning of Sophie's 11th birthday,there’s a knock at the door. Harry is here to visit his cousin for the first time in almost 20 years.
I just want to say that I'm super excited to read these responses! I'm holding off reading them until my kiddo goes to bed so I can sit and really pay attention to your stories!!
I can't wait to see what you guys come up with | When Dudley opened the door his jaw dropped. He hadn't seen Harry since they had left Privet Drive with those wizard folk, hiding from Voldy... Something. In his head, Harry was bigger, and gave off a vibe of just being *wrong,* but as his cousin stood on his front walk, he seemed no different than any other visitor.
Dudley was shaken from the memory by Sophie calling from the other room "Dad? Is it Penny? She was supposed to be here by now." A group of young girls peered into the hallway.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, "I'm interrupting your party. I can come back." He turned as if to leave but Dudley put a hand on his shoulder.
"Girls, I'll be out in the garden if you need me," Dudley called back to the party, then stepped out onto the grass with his cousin. "I assume this isn't a social visit?" He said, looking Harry in the eye.
Harry sighed, and reached into his blazer jacket, pulling out the letter. "This isn't like last time Dudley. You're her father, she doesn't have to go." He said, holding onto the envelope when Dudley tried to take it.
"No, no. She's... She's like you," Dudley said resignedly. "But... She's not like you, right? You were... I dunno. I could tell you were different, even when we were kids. Sophie is just a normal girl, if I didn't know already..."
Dudley flushed and looked away from Harry. "I hated you, Harry. I don't know why, but just being around you made me angry. Mum and Dad were the same way. After you went to school, things were different. And then when you came home for the summer it was bad all over again." Dudley ran a hand over his face and was surprised when they came away wet. "I don't want my daughter to go through that."
Harry stood for a moment, chewing his lip, as if he was thinking hard before he responded. "She won't. I found out when I... Well, that last year, when I left. I was sick, D, magic sick. When Voldemort killed my parents, part of him went into me. It's what made me... Like that..." Harry spread his hands "It's gone now though, I'm okay. And so is Sophie. She won't be like that. She'll still be your daughter."
Dudley nodded to himself and stared at the crest on the envelope. "You work here then? At the school? You'll look out for her."
Harry shook his head, "No, I work for the Ministry, but I have friends who do. She'll be well cared for, Big D."
Dudley frowned "Nobody has called me that in ages." He patted his flat stomach "and I'm not so big anymore. You'll help us? Get school supplies and everything?"
Harry nodded and grinned, "my younger son is starting this year too. We can go together." Harry held out his hand, and Dudley took it in a firm grip, "it's good to see you again." | Sophie sat on the carpeted stairs mesmerized. She had never seen this odd lanky man before, and he had the most peculiar scar on his forehead. He wore a long over coat with a simple sweater underneath. He had circular glasses that blocked her view of his face. Sophie stared at him awestruck and amazed. She thought it was funny how his legs seemed so skinny and small compared to her fathers rotund shape.
"It's been forever, Harry," Her father muttered. He kept adjusting his apparently tight collar. Sophie could see the heavy line of sweat around his large forehead.
"It has Dudley, I've seen you haven't changed much since..." 'Harry' seemed to pause slightly as Dudley winced at the mention of his late mother and father. "I'm sure you wonder why I've shown up today of all days-"
"I'd rather not with Sophie here," He turned to her. She immediately ran upstairs giggling and pushing her blonde hair out of her eyes.
He paused just before the first step and looked up making sure she had really gone up. Sophie smiled as she peeked out from behind the wall, but her father was already back to Harry. She sat on the top step and fiddled with a small feather that she had found years ago in her room. It was a gorgeous white with small specks of black and grey. Waving it around she thought of how it came to be in her room.
The front door opened and her mother walked in carrying heavy groceries. Sophie blinked her long eye lashes before she realized that her mother was motioning for help. Skipping down to the living room she helped her mother as her father and Harry talked in hushed voices staring one another down over the coffee table.
"Mum, what are they talking about?" Sophie wondered aloud as she watched not helping at all.
"I don't know, Sunshine," Her mother was organizing food by vegetables and deli meats. "But please be a dear and help your poor old mum."
Sophie relented and tried to listen as she moved back and forth from the counter to the fridge. Eventually her father stood up. He had a large (probably fake) smile on his face and a crunched up envelope in his hand.
"Sophie, come here."
She moved over slowly blinking and trying to look innocent. For all she knew he could be a associate from her school, and for all she knew she wasn't the one who drew inappropriate signs in the girls bathroom upstairs.
"This is your uncle Harry," her father placed a clenched hand on her shoulder. Shocked she flinched and adjusted her shoulder.
"You mean the one you said was put in a foreign jail?" Sophie blurted. Harry's eyes became dark and his face was moments away from becoming a frown. Her father laughed.
"No no no," he wheezed tightening his grasp on her shoulder. "The other Harry!" Sophie searched her brain.
"The one in the looney bin?" She said a little to loudly. Struggling to hold in a laugh Harry glanced back at her father with an angry look. Dudley looked more flustered and his face started turning red.
"Dear, this is important, so please pay attention," he sputtered. Sophie glanced back at her mum who was getting dinner ready. "Go on, Harry."
Uncle Harry motioned for her to sit next to him on the floral couch. Sophie sat as far as she could from him as her father sat in her grandfathers chair. Her father reached his large hand out and opened it showing a crumbled and sweaty letter.
She snatched it hoping for a birthday present containing some kind of cash, but it was to light. Sophie paused staring at the emblem pressed into the letter. Now it was cracked and crushed but she imagined what it would look like as it was before, sitting in her Uncle's large coat pocket perfect and not yellowed from her fathers sweat. She looked up at her Uncle who now had a look of suppressed joy. Sophie was confused and looked at her father who had a look of sadness.
"You're a wizard, Sophie." And her mother dropped the plates she was carrying and they shattered all over the floor. | 2019-10-16T11:39:46 | 2019-10-16T11:35:26 | 179 | 66 |
[WP] "Your honor, the evidence is clear and undeniable. While my client may have been a 'mad genius' who sought to 'dominate the city' with his 'army of evil', I present that he did actually not break any laws or statutes in his actions. The defense rests." | “Rich people can get away with anything”, the reporter snarked from the gallery.
“Yeah but this time he didn’t break the laws...this is different than before, this changes the game.” His associate said.
Mr. Vale, sat on the stand, nicely tailored suit and tie, black hair neatly combed back, big white teeth grinning maliciously.
He started this campaign to make a point. That politics were broken and billionaires like himself could easily manipulate the system. He didn’t realize how easy it really had been.
As an accomplished self made business man he had skills and people at his disposal. He used stats, lawyers, and local city ordinances all to his advantage.
In 19 states you could recall government officials through citizen votes. According to his data only about 100,000 people voted in governor elections as it was. He had 100,000 employees in at least one of those states. Turns out he had far more than that in each of those states.
Employees liked working and he never threatened anyone, and getting them to vote out a governor turned out to be easy. He had the numbers on his side.
Then he had a new election, again he had the number of people for votes. But having “parades” that limited the number of available routes to voting locations wouldn’t hurt his chances.
“That’s voter suppression!” Exclaimed one of the members from the gallery.
“Parades and events are more than allowed in all the cities I had them as long as you have the proper paperwork. He just thought the parade name ‘Army of Evil’ was fun.
He also stacked the other positions with his employees and “voted” out old outdated laws. He changed most of them to be state dictatorship. They were now corporate states and he had enough pull to swing national elections too. It wouldn’t take long to take the whole country.
As the prosecutor read off each and every offense of office, and using local laws in devious ways Mr. Vale just listed the laws and their appropriate use.
It was clear, the Judge knew it, the prosecutor knew it. The reporters and gallery knew it. What he had done was wrong and made a mockery of the system, but it was in fact legal. And if it wasn’t before, it would be now. He made the laws now. | I ran a trembling hand through my shaggy crop of brown hair. It was definitely going to be greasy later and I'd have to wash it, which meant I'd have to stop at the store on the way home for shampoo. A little inconvenient, after a day like this.
I had very clearly stated my case, Mr. Hermann hadn't broken any laws. Sure, he had wandered around the city in a skin tight suit and said some weird things, but nothing that you wouldn't have seen on a Saturday night in the party capital.
I knew that people were a little weirded out to see this overweight sweaty man traipsing around midtown during their lunch break, but I stood by my case and knew he hadn't *technically* broken any laws.
I'd always liked the idea of being a lawyer but the more whack job cases I was handed, the more I doubted it. The issue with being at the bottom rung of the ladder is that I was regularly assigned the cases of people who qualified for free legal aid, and I usually didn't really believe them.
The court had broken while the jurors decided the fate of Mr. Hermann. I glanced over at him to gage how he was feeling.
Despite the fact they were trying to send him to prison, he sat giggling at a comic propped between the bench in front of him and his gigantic stomach. He idly scratched at his balding head and even from this distance, I could see flakes of skin fall to his lap. Ew.
His navy suit seemed like it had probably fit him at some point in his life, but not any more. The seams were visibly bulging as his frame struggled to be contained.
The shirt underneath, however, was immaculate. I guessed he'd went out and bought it for the trial.
Just as I checked my phone, a court attendant reappeared and announced that the court would now sit again.
I swallowed hard as the 13 jurors filed out from the side room and took up their seats once more.
\---
They found him guilty, unanimously. I argued the best I could, but Hermann hadn't really been the most appealing person to stand behind. I feel like maybe my apprehensiveness effected how they perceived him; but it was too late now.
I laid a hand on his shoulder as he stood to face the approaching policemen.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'll do my best to negotiate your sentence down."
"It's okay, Mr George." he smiled. "They told me to do it."
I raised an eyebrow as he raised a pudgy finger to his mouth and hushed me.
But before I could ask him anything else, the policemen nodded to me and placed handcuffs on his wrists.
As he was led away, he looked back at me and winked. There was something unnerving about the wink and while I knew I was now free to leave, my feet felt as if they were bolted to the spot.
Hermann would be facing the flashing cameras and relentless reporters by now. A man like him probably wouldn't even know what he should and shouldn't say.
I checked my phone once more, and noticed I had a text from a number I didn't recognise.
"George, thank you for helping our client be found guilty."
"This has only just started."
It was then that I heard the explosion from the front of the building, followed by screams. | 2019-11-07T08:29:12 | 2019-11-07T07:42:50 | 542 | 53 |
[WP] Almost everyone has a superpower by age 25 but it’s not unheard of for people to not have a power. Your power is that whenever you kill someone you strip their power both physical AND super power. You don’t have a way of knowing this until you join the military. In the middle of a superwar. | I was always told that I didn’t have a power, still most people didn’t have anything spectacular, yet deep down I always wanted one. And right now I needed one. I though there was no way I was getting out of here alive. So I started getting desperate.
During one attack caused by some power, it was always a fucking power, something along the lines of an earthquake and a firestorm came through the abandoned city which was our base of operations. A few soldiers and I went for shelter in some building, hard to tell what its original purpose was at this point. The destruction got more intense and the building collapsed on the side farthest from me, roasting everyone else who hid, I was luckily protected by some of the debris. I looked out once it had subsided and noticed one survivor, a fellow soldier who had gotten 3rd degree burns over the top half of his body, and the other half was crushed by the burning building, he wasn’t going to survive here, and even if he did it’d be pure agony, I did him the courtesy of ending his life right there, with his permission. I took out my knife and stabbed him in the heart, got a lot of blood on my hands, figuratively and literally, no idea if that was the best way to end a life but it’s what I thought of during the moment.
Suddenly, I felt a surge of energy flowing through me, all my weariness fading away and my muscles started swelling more than ever, must be the adrenaline. I tried looking for something to clean off my hands before I left, and I noticed a towel on the floor, I reached for it but when I picked it up it was hard to the touch, I was caught off guard for a moment and it turned back into some debris. At first I thought this was someone else’s power, but, there was no body around, except the man I just killed next to me. Then I remembered he had made some references to making things look better than they actually were. This was his power, and somehow I was using it, it couldn’t change the way things felt, only their appearance, an illusion effectively.
This was my way out.
I took his body and swapped our dog tags, surprised we still used them but glad they didn’t melt. I picked up his body and headed over to the nearest medic. I remembered the way he looked and used the power to turn myself into him and vice versa. I tried not to talk much because my voice was still the same, but nobody caught on. The dead body now looked exactly like myself, as if I was a burnt corpse and they pronounced me dead, killed in action.
What I was doing was cowardly but I didn’t care about my actions or the war, and now I can’t get arrested for being a deserter. I know I was going to use this power finally get out of here. | Dear god, I hate the smell of blood.
How the hell did I even kill this guy?! He clearly had super-strength! HE DISARMED ME FROM MY RIFLE! He could have easily just made my internal organs rupture just by lightly punching it, and yet all of a sudden, I was that much quicker than him, then somehow managed to stab him in the throat with my knife... Why?
Then, I hear a crack in the ground. Shit! Someone with an earth-related power! I try to take back my knife, but claws erupt from the ground before I have time to think about all that happens. I scream, I make a gesture in a vain attempt to protect myself from the claws, and... I block them? My hands are bleeding, and my reaction speed from earlier takes over again... I'm as baffled as the guy in front of me. He quickly discards his earthly claws, and attempts to make the earth shatter under my feet, but I throw myself in front of him, with a speed I barely started to get used to, and I landed what was to me a clumsy punch, but that nonetheless took him by surprise, and punched a hole through his stomach. As I removed my fist, he fell to his knees, and grabbed on to his bleeding stomach.
"Finish me off." He said. "Finish me off, I know you can steal powers when you kill. That's a power of legends if I've ever seen one. You could end this war yourself, even if it's for the opposing side, I prefer this war to be over soon."
I understood exactly what he meant. My body understood just what this all meant, and how I could change this battle for my side, but on another hand... "No!" I shouted "I won't become that kind of person! Even if it means this war will drag on for longer, I'm still taking you back!"
With speed, I take out a medical kit from my backpack, and I make sure to bandage his wound for now as he protests, but accepts my decision. I grab him, and I make sure to carry him on my back, with my newfound strength. I need to find a place outside of this chaos.
As I think that, I hear the sound of something dropping down rapidly, and my body understands before my head that this is a mortar shot, and I try to duck behind rubbles, and shield with my own body the man I just tried to kill moments ago. Oh well, at least I got to pretend to being cool for a while.
I wake up in a bed, barely conscious, and a voice tells me "Ah, you seem to be conscious. A medical team managed to find you and your prisonner. He saved you by making a sphere of earth, where you both stayed for a few hours, though you stayed unconscious from shock. I'm honestly surprised he didn't try to kill you."
As he says that, I immediately ask "Where is he?! He saved my life, I need to thank him!" But the doctor responds "Now, now, no need to get worked up, you'll see him, even if he's a prisonner now."
I make a sigh of relief, and I say "Doctor, by the way, I think there should be a change to my file. I found out I have a superpower in the midst of combat, but it's hard to describe." He makes a surprised expression and asks "Oh? And what is this power then?"
I think back to all that happened, to the first person I gunned down by surprise, that I now assume to have had super speed, to the guy with super strength, and to the man with earth powers that saved me.
I could change the course of war, but...
"It's an odd mixture of super strength and super speed. I think tests will have to be made, doctor."
&#x200B;
*First time posting here, hopefully it's not too bad!* | 2020-01-09T23:53:06 | 2020-01-09T18:40:48 | 235 | 126 |
[WP] At a young age you discovered you could choose your luck for a week (0-100%) But every 52 weeks it must average 50%. You spent the last 51 weeks living on 49% luck. It was only slightly “bad luck”. But this is the week you need to cash in your saved “good luck”. You have selected 100% luck. | Sunday: I turned the luck all the way up. This was make or break week. I'd figured it all out. I bought a lottery ticket. The drawing is Wednesday, but I'm not looking until Saturday. By then, money should be the least of my joys.
Monday: Interview for my dream job. Here's hoping!
Tuesday: The company called me for a second interview tomorrow!
Wednesday: The interview went great! I went shopping for an engagement ring.
Thursday: I went bowling. Don't have to tell you how that went. I'm now a legend at the Bowlarama!
Friday: I got the job! They offered the top of the salary range!
Saturday: Proposed marriage. She said, "Sam, I've been meaning to break this off. I've been cheating on you. You'll never be rich enough or successful enough for me." I left.
I can't be sad. This is why I asked today. Luck isn't always getting what you hoped for. I learned that long ago. I pulled out my lottery ticket. | I woke up, the nice summer breeze whizzed past my face. Today was the day, the day that I would cash in all of my luck points to have a 100% lucky day. As I got out of bed, birds started pleasantly chirping in the distance. When I stepped into the shower, the water was perfect. Not too warm, not too cold. I got dressed with absolute certainty of what I wanted to wear. I stepped outside, the sun was shining a warm beam of light at me. As I walked down the street, I noticed a 100$ bill laying on the ground. I hesitantly picked it up and put it in my bag.
After walking for a while I saw a cat dangling from a tree, I decided to help it by bringing it down. When I did, an old lady came to thank me and gave me free cookies that she had baked earlier. They were the best cookies I've ever tasted.
As I was munching on the sweet treats she had given me, a man in a business suit approached me and started up a conversation.
"You young man, are the perfect individual for our advertising campaign. We need heroes like you on our side" He said.
"What will this campaign entail" I curiously asked.
"The pay is 10,000$ per commercial, you'll just have to say a couple of phrases and smile."
I took up the man's offer and we drove to the advertising office. He took me into a room full of people filming movies, commercials and such.
"Wait here for a second." He said. While I was waiting, a man started muttering to himself. I walked up to him and asked whether I could help.
"We need someone to play a main role in the new hit blockbuster movie we're making, you look just like him" He said, "Say, maybe you'd want to act as our main protagonist?"
"Yes" I answered. not waiting for a second. This has been my dream for my entire life, and it has finally come true.
I decided to admire the view from this building, I walked up to the window, not thinking about what might happen if I get too close. Then, I was pushed. I started falling from 20 stories up. There's no way luck could save me now.
r/memehack3r | 2020-04-21T07:26:26 | 2020-04-21T06:10:37 | 597 | 56 |
[WP]A civilization made a pact with a god, granting them immense power, but in 50 years summoning a being that'll destroy the galaxy. Only way to prevent that is to slaughter the offending empire within those 50 years. This marks the first time pacifists vouched for genocide on the galactic council.
Inspired by "The end of the cycle" from Stellaris, as well as a comment on r/stellaris.
Created because i was dared by u/JakorPastrack to do so. | The Pacifist Bloc on the Galactic Council had voted for genocide. It was really happening. War.
As the vote tally was read aloud, you could hear a pin drop in the huge chamber which housed the Council. There was no sound except the automated voice reading aloud the name of each voting bloc and the result.
Argondian Republic - Genocide.
High Nebulan Melange - Genocide.
It was the only real choice left, but it signified the end of the Galaxy as it was known. No wars had marred the peaceful co-existence of the Galaxy's sentient species in millions of years.
Fenebrial Hegemony - Genocide.
Greater Light Path of Harmony - Genocide.
Now the Galactic Council had set aside millions of years of peace, in order to strike at the Apothagentians who had consorted with a Transcendent Power, and appalling breach of protocol, and a deed that is absolutely forbidden throughout the Galaxy.
The Monarchy of Zort - Genocide.
Ordinal Cohesion - Genocide.
Who would actually execute the deed? And how could it be done? The Apothagentians now had colossal power at their disposal, and neither the Council nor any of its members had developed or manufactured any weapons in a million years. Further, would they - even if in possession of weapons capable of defeating the Apothagentians - be morally or constitutionally capable of 'pulling the trigger'?
Apptitude of Embracing - Genocide.
Imperium of Durrel - Genocide.
The tally is now complete, the unanimous decision of the Council is Genocide.
There arose a susurration in the Council Chamber, which died away as First Speaker Brond stood to speak. Again, a deathly silence came over chamber, and a million delegates waited for the words of their leader.
"The decision of the Council is Genocide."
Even though the decision was known already, this announcement still brought gasps of shock and horror from the delegates. Some curled up on the floor, others shut down their receptors from external stimuli.
"The Inner Council has already chosen an army to destroy the Apothagentians. Though we had hoped this day would never come, we have been preparing to set free one of the Forbidden Worlds."
The Council Chamber was filled with muttering, and some voices were raised in anger - a rarity indeed in the Chamber of the Galactic Council. The Forbidden Worlds were planets which housed species which did not fit the galactic milieu. Misfit species with anger issues and a tendency towards violence and the misuse of technology were kept blanketed behind carefully crafted simulations, to keep them permanently unaware of what was 'out there'. They received no information from off-planet except that which was fed to them by the simulation. And the data that was fed to them was filled with maddening inconsistencies, designed to drive them down barren and sterile paths of discovery, to ensure they never discovered the technology of interstellar flight. The decision to free a Forbidden World could save the galaxy, or damn it.
Or, it could achieve both.
Once again, the First Speaker spoke. "Let the veil be lifted!"
Wonder, alarm, consternation, exhilaration. For the first time in a hundred thousand years, the true night sky was visible from Earth, and what wonders it held! A myriad of blinking satellites, vast fleets of enormous spaceships, and an invitation to parley from something calling itself the Galactic Council.
Now, wasn't that interesting? | The falls of the gavel echoed throughout the chamber.
“Order.” Bellowed a large and imposing figure from the far end of the immense obsidian room. His dress was the refined simplicity of a warrior who has led his entire life. His one good eye shined a deep crimson and where his other had been was an empty socket that looked like the void itself. “Order. I will not have this summit stalled by the driveling of religious zealots.”
A group of three robed and bald women shot out of their chairs. One of the heavy wooden chairs fell back crashing into the dark tiled floor. “We do not drivel! We speak the truth. The text has spoken of this moment, the end is nigh, if we do not—“
“Enough.” The imposing man stopped the frantic recounting with a look more than his words. “We do not doubt the veracity of your claims. However, it is rare for the Order of Solemnity to grace the galaxy beyond their own borders. Now, you come here telling us of what? Rituals? Sorcery? Genocide?”
Two of the women returned the fallen chair to standing and took their seats. The third, standing between the others, scowled. Her bald head was covered in bright and ornate tattoos, majestic alien landscapes that wrapped around her from her temple to her toe. “We tried to stop them. We warned them, they would only bring death upon themselves and the galaxy. But they did not heed us, they would gladly trade a brutal death for a life of power.”
Murmurs reverberated off the dark imposing walls. Intricate murals depicting man’s ascension to rule the galaxy and ending with The Schism at the crown of the domed ceiling. A man with a vibrant topcoat and a large waxed mustache held up his hand.
“Doge.” The warlord nodded.
“Thank you Imperator.” The man stood revealing a belly of epic proportions. “I think I speak for all of us when I say, what the hell are you talking about?”
The murmurs swirled around them, threatening to overtake the imposed calm until a single “Order,” rumbled from the throat of the great figure. “If you do not have anything worthwhile to contribute, then sit down.”
The Doge held up a hand full of golden rings in apology. He placed the hand on the oaken table, his numerous bracelets clattered and sparkled like newborn stars. He paused for a moment, what seemed like dramatic effect, was in reality his realization that this was the first time he had ever seen, let alone touched, wood from the cradle of man. “What I mean to say is, how is it an order of peace, an order of religious faith and zeal, one that only arrives to chastise the violence between man, summons us now to commit the single greatest act of butchery and genocide man has ever enacted? We have rules your Reverences. Rules your order helped create to ensure that man would not return to the base barbarism that nearly wiped us out in the second millennium.”
The Doge remained standing but nodded respectfully to the the three holy women across from him. The women stood as one, the two on the side started to hum, softly at first, but slowly it began to build into a wilting and haunting dirge. The one in the middle looked at every face around the table before she spoke.
“You are men and women of reason, of science, of truth. Yet you do not want to believe what is right in front of you. It has always been there. Lurking in the dark corners of our minds, testing us, probing for our weaknesses. It is an intelligence older and greater than any other and it wishes for nothing but our destruction. While you all have conquered and discovered the stars, we have searched inward and what we found was darker and deeper than the black hole at our galaxy’s center. We have found our arch nemesis, the one who has always been there waiting for the right time to end us. And I am ashamed to say our order has fallen right into its plans.”
The room was silent save for the dirgeful notes resting on the stunned ears. Finally the great warlord rose, the chair screeching as he stood. “Who, or what is it you speak of?”
The holy woman bowed her head and whispered for fear it would call It to them, yet they all heard her clearly. “God.” | 2020-09-11T10:54:40 | 2020-09-11T10:45:37 | 44 | 15 |
[WP] Whenever anybody asks you a question, time stops until you figure out the correct or satisfying answer to said question. One day, someone asks you a question that you realize may take an eternity to answer.
Inspired by [this.](https://www.reddit.com/r/godtiersuperpowers/comments/jd58rn/questionably_time_stop/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) | "Do you love me?"
Her question surprised me, I've known Emily for some time, but I never expected that.
"What did you say?" I replied, hoping she will change her question so my curse will not start.
"I asked you, Shawn McCarthy, do you love me?" Her tender voice was the last thing I heard before time stopped.
I looked around me, the cafe was full of people, and it all, in a single moment, stopped.
The water which the waiter poured didn't flow anymore, the fly on the wall was frozen, the laughs and conversations were silent.
"I don't love you Emily" I answer confidently, yet time did not resume.
"I love you Emily" I said, voice broken and hopeful, yet time did not resume.
"Can I have the cheque please?" I said, making a signing motion with my hand, and yet time did not resume.
I didn't love Emily, she was a good friend, but it was not much more than that.
I walked outside, the hustle of the main street stopped, the cars didn't move, the clouds were stuck in place and the air was still.
Time did not move.
I have never faced such a question. Questions about god and the existence of aliens were easy to satisfy, people accept your opinion on this matter, or at least take them as valid answers, but this, this was something different, for the matter is much more complicated than the existence of a powerful being or alien life.
&#x200B;
I know Emily love me, I knew it from our first date, and I wanted to give it a shot, I really did, but it was just not meant to be.
A flash of brilliance struck my mind, I rushed back into the cafe.
"I'm afraid we are not meant to be, Emily", yet time did not resume.
&#x200B;
I started walking, it was the only thing that kept me sane on these excursions, I would walk for days and weeks at a time, never hungry, never thirsty, never aging. I would walk until I would find an answer, a true answer.
I reached the outskirts of the city, thinking about love and feelings and how vague the whole world is.
How people are afraid of opening up, how hard it is to show weakness and vulnerability, even though we all feel equally.
I have reached a conclusion. "Logic is useless in the face of emotion".
Emily loves me even though I do not, she loves me even though I am me.
I have reached the outskirts of the country, the border guards stood there, checking every car and person. I could see the single bead of sweat on the main guards forehead, he was standing in the noon sun, commanding the people and vehicles around him. His hand raised and pointed towards a yellow beetle.
I approached him, noticing the iron necklace around his neck, it was a ring. I approached him and gently looked at it.
I read the inscription. "B+M 2012"
With this I reached a second conclusion. "Love is shared"
Emily loved me because of who I can be, not who I am.
I walked to the mountains, the cold did not bother me as time stood still, the curse kept me warm and fed, sometimes I wish it hadn't kept me so safe.
I reached one of the lower peaks, one which overlooked a frozen pond. In the center of that pond stood a woman, she was a bit older than me, her hair black with a bit of gray. She stood there with her arms reaching to the heavens,
and in her hand a single gold coin. I went to her. The coin had a "VI" on one side and a writing on the other.
"To thine own self be true"
I have reached my third conclusion. "To love thyself is to love others"
Emily loves me, even though I am not worthy of her love.
I have reached the peak of the icy mountain, the road upwards is always difficult, even though I am invulnerable in this state I, too, feel tired. Tired of understanding this world and my place in it, trying to understand why I was cursed, and why even with this power I always feel so alone, and tired, and angry and hopeless. How hard it is to accept a different person through the iron curtain.
The sun peaked high above me, washing the landscape with its bright white light.
I have reached my fourth conclusion. "The iron curtain is a shield made of hate, not caution"
I hate myself, more than anything else. Loving others is not enough, you must first love yourself.
In the walk back to the cafe I pondered upon my conclusions, their ramifications and their power. The cruelty of mankind comes not from love or fear or anger, it comes from hatred, it comes from within their souls and their minds.
I looked into Emily's blue eyes, they were like sapphires in the light. I could feel her soul through them. I took her hands, and clasped them between mine. I felt the warmth radiating from her. Her cheeks were flushed.
"I don't love you Emily. I want to love you but I am incapable of love". My voice shivering from the years of silence in which I had lived, my heart raced, and for the first time, I had felt my curtain starting to move.
Time resumed. | A flash of light in the middle of a cornfield. "I'm here?! But when?" asked to myself as I looked around. The machine showed 'June 01, 1998. 02:00 local time. Meadow town cornfields, Hershey. Coordinates ........'
"Record... The machine brought me to 1998, I'm 21 years old and I'm from 2020. It's exactly a year before I was born. The time machine actually works." I recorded in my phone.
I've come to the past to change the future, well, my father's. He met with an unfortunate accident when I was 10 years old that spiraled out of control making my mom depressed for 11 years. They loved each other so much.
My mom gave me no choice but to do this, I discovered this machine when I was going through the old stuff in the basement one day. I don't know where it came from or whom it belonged to. It looked compact, easy to carry and easier to access though it took me some time to figure it out.
But I surely didn't expect it to transport me to this point in time.
Time went by, I aged naturally. I kept to myself in this time frame, living low profile and trying not to mess with the timeline as much as I could. I kind of even looked like my father. It's 2009 and I'm 32 years old now, older than my father was when he, um, when he died.
There he was fixing his car before he took off to sell some of the things he found in his house. He would crash near the Sacrament cliff on his way to the Morgan city. It's about time I met my father.
I go to him and say, Hello. He took some time to even notice me. "May I know where you found these?" I asked. "Hi, yeah, sorry didn't see you there, these were my father's." He replied. After some brief conversation with him I asked if he could sell it to me. He said, "Wow, are you sure you want this junk?" "Yeah," I said immediately. He agreed to sell them without a second thought.
I saved a lot of money to buy them. "This will save Dad, I did it Mom", I said to myself. I was content and very sure for the first time in my life that things are going to be okay.
"Who did you say you were again?" asked my father. "I..." the time froze before I could finish the sentence. It looked like it stopped when I paused to think what I have to say. It was unnatural, it never happened this way before. Even stranger, I couldn't think of anything to say to what my father had asked. I moved freely in time without the machine in close proximity, the world is frozen still. "Where is the machine?" I asked myself.
I slowly begin to recollect moments in the past, I realize it'd happened several times already. Like the very first time I discovered the time machine.
I started to have concussions when I came in close contact with my younger self and my parents. I was even quick to forget about these periodic episodes, that's why I lived with myself for the most part, away from them, away from certain people and questions. It always took me some time to answer whatever the answer the time thinks is the right thing to say.
Unfortunate side effect of time traveling I believed, I feared for myself and decided I can't and shouldn't be around the machine any more so I placed it exactly where I found it, in the basement of my parents' house. "How did I forget all these details? Why do I remember everything now? What should I say to my father?" I had a lot of questions as I realized it may take an eternity.
Composed and clear I told him, "I'm your son from the future, Dad." the only thing that mattered. I was suddenly pulled back, the time stream rushed past me as I was looking at my father standing there looking back at me. I don't know if he got that, I don't know if I will ever get to live with my father but this certainly is something I'll never forget, meeting my father once again.
PRESENT.
"Come on, Dad, it's getting late. I need to see Bianca, can I do this tomorrow?" I told my dad who was busy downstairs collecting old stuff to resale. "What will she say to you when you tell her that you refused to work for your father, for her? She's a good one, boy, you don't need to be there before she asks you to be there. I'm sure you two will be fine, trust me I've had worse breakup before I met your mom." said my dad. "Okay fine, tell me what to do." I told him and went to the basement as per his request before my mom could interfere and ask my dad about what we were talking about.
I wish I could be with Bianca like my dad is with my mom right now, he's such an understanding man, but man, relationships are complicated.
I get a text from Bianca that said, 'It's over Ryan, don't come see me. I'm sorry, I think you're a good guy but you need to understand it's not working between us.'
I stood there in the basement, my dad called out to me I couldn't reply to him. Then I picked myself up after some time and went up the stairs. I looked to the right and that's when I saw this thing, covered in white, taped all around and sitting in the corner.
"What could it be?" I told myself as I went near, it looked like it didn't belong in the basement with the other stuff. I unpacked it, what was looked like a solid object made of light weight shiny metal at first had a button underneath it, which was hard to figure out. I pressed the button and it did nothing. "What is this thing?" I asked, it started to make a faint whirring sound surrounding me with particle stream of a spherical bubble-like structure. I'm not even sure if those are right words to describe it. Then it seemed like everything around me was frozen in time.
"A Time Machine!" I answered to my own question, astonished and smiling.
r/FleetingScripts | 2020-10-18T02:49:16 | 2020-10-17T23:28:53 | 51 | 11 |
[WP] Making a deal with a demon requires a soul. Usually this is a very bad idea, but you got a crazy idea. Earlier you traded your lunch money to the school bully in exchange for a piece of paper that says you own his soul. You're about to find out if demons consider this a valid contract. | "I told you, I need you to sign right here so i can finish your homework."
I looked up at Kevin, he had been my personal hell since the second grade, five years later and i wasn't certain if i hated him more or feared him. Every day was the same routine, get dropped off at the bus stop, wait for Kevin to hit me as a greeting, give him his homework and lunch money. I had to pay the toll after all. I did have a bit of respite in the 5th grade, thats the only one where we didn't share a class. I even made a friend. but then middle school started and wouldn't you know it. Kevin had every period with me. I even tried to drop a class but he just followed right behind.
He signed the paper, he didn't even bother reading it. Come to think of it, i had been doing his homework for five years, i wasn't even sure he could read. I smiled to myself, and put the paper away.
That night i was finally ready. I placed the candles in the circle, chanted the words i found in the book and waited. I couldn't be too loud, mom was sleeping next door.
"As far as summoning's go Mortal, that was rather... lack luster." the voice was polished, refined. almost English, but the syllables were stressed in all the wrong places. Like someone reading words in a language they couldn't speak.
"I am sorry, this is the first time ive ever done this." i said to the room.
"A virgin and a Virgin? oh my, this is my lucky day." The smoke plumed out of the pentagram and as it filled the room a shape began to form. Black red skin shone in the candle light, The demon was easily 8 feet tall, his horns followed the contours of his head down his neck and spine, forming razer sharp points that seemed to dig into his own flesh, though he didnt seem to mind. Powerful hands clasped around a staff upon which hung several skulls, not all of them human. wings formed across his back framing him in a torrent of crimson feathers. the guy definitely had a theme going. He looked down on me and i could feel the pressure of his gaze digging into me.
"oh. You're like twelve. did you mean to summon me? or did you find an old book lying around and thought it would be fun to chant some mumbo jumbo. It happens quite alot these days. and it is always so pesky having to crawl up through hell. So if this is an accident please say so so i can go home."
I looked at him, i didn't think it would honestly work. But part one complete. Go team.
"Oh come on, dont act like you're not impressed."
Truth was he was impressive, and terrifying. but after 5 years of kevin...
"I uh... i haven't. I'm not sure what to call you. Is there like a special code word or something i should call you?"
"Special code... boy. Are you an idiot? do you know what i do? I grant a single wish in exchange for a soul. Do you want anything? I almost feel bad about offering, its like shooting fish in a barrel. Not very sporting really."
"I was wondering if you would accept any soul?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well what if i gave you someone elses soul."
"Boy you cant just go around giving away someone's soul, that's not how this works, you dont own someone's soul, even we demons have rules to follow, contracts and the like. As much fun as it would be to just come topside and wreak havoc and blood like the old days, we just cant. Bureaucracy. feh."
"What about this?" I handed the demon the paper Kevin had signed.
The demon squinted at the note and reached into his wing pulling out a small set of spectacles. He looked at the piece of paper and a devilish grin peeled across his lips.
"Payable upon demand... signed by his own hand... you truly aren't an idiot child are you. Very well, what is your wish?"
"I smiled, i wish for a large cheese pizza and a soda."
The demon bowed low and vanished. as the last puff of black smoke faded there was a ring at the doorbell and the scent of pizza on the air. vengeance never smelled as good. | While waiting a dark and dingy lounge of the Demon Inc, I was thinking what my lawyer said "This might be valid contract that you own bully's soul, but whether you will be entitled to the benefits (tangible or intangible) coming out of deal with the demon is debatable. The law is not very clear on this. It might happen that Bully is actually true recipient of the benefits. Our legal system has always been scared of demons since they always bring bad luck, hence no concrete law has been made. It is generally left to the discretion of the demon to decide who is the real benefactor in such cases. However, the bully can always challenge you in the court and demons, historically, don't interfere because they feed on the agony and distress such court cases cause."
I was in deep thought on how will this meeting go? More important question was what should I ask for in return? I had some ideas but had to first gauge what CDO (Chief Deal Officer) of Demon Inc had in mind. What value did he see in the soul of a bully?
Suddenly, the announcement happened "token number 621, please proceed to the conference room 5". This was me. A chill went down my spine. I am only 12 years old and going to make my first ever deal that too with Demon Inc, the most notorious organization in the world. I was scared.
The conference room was dimly lit and on one end an old demon was sitting. He was just staring at me with a blank face. I just said hello and he directed me to sit on the chair across him.
He said "so young man, you are too young to forget the word of lord. Why so? Don't you have trust in your god or you are too young to understand his miraculous ways?"
I was not ready for this. I just wanted a simple trade which I was promised. I was not ready for a spiritual discussion. I said "I thought we were going to discuss what I will get in return for the soul. I already emailed the details and was told that this meeting is for negotiating final terms"
He laughed and said "Ofcourse young man. I was just trying to break the ice. I like how you want to get to the point so soon. Ok. So tell me what you want. You do know that I might allocate your wish to the true soul owner too, right? So don't be too greedy and be reasonable in your ask"
I nodded and felt uneasy at his mention of allocation of wish to the true owner. I was hoping that this point won't come during the discussion.
I cleared my thought and said "I want to be never bullied in my life. Nor me or any of my family members till eternity. I have had enough with my lunch money being taken away by these bullies. This needs to stop. So please grant me this wish and in return I offer you the soul of the worst bully I ever met in my life."
The CDO smiled at me and said "Don't you want to become bully too? I mean what's better than bullying the whole world?"
I got puzzled. I didn't think about this. But I also remembered that Demons play tricks. They trick you into bad things that can have adverse effect, so I said "No, after being at the receiving end of it, I have no intention of becoming a bully. I just want to be safe whole my life".
"Fair enough", the CDO got up and started walking in the room. He said "but you see this is not how things work. I am removing an obstacle from your life, in return I will have to add another obstacle in your life. Especially in your case, since I am not even getting your soul to torture or do whatever with it, it has to be a zero sum game. You understand that right?"
I nodded.
He continued, "this is precisely the reason that sometimes the benefits, in such kind of trade, are handed over to the true owner of the soul because that maintains the balance of the universe. So unless you opt for a sin or, to put it out mildly, agree for something bad to happen in your life, I can't agree to your demand."
I started thinking. What is not so important in life? Family, parents, friends, money, education, xbox, iPhone, health?
He figured that I was confused, so he said "You don't have to tell me right away. You can come back later and we can have one more meeting." But I didn't want to wait so I said "I want to be a bully. I don't want to lose anything in life. Fuck it. This is hard".
Before I could finish, I passed out on the floor and when I got up in the hospital few hours later, I had a signed agreement in my hand stating that "I, my family, and any of my offsprings will never be bullied till eternity. In return, I have agreed to become a bully for life. Since all the deals of Demon Inc are constitutionally required to have zero sum impact on the universe, my family and all my future offsprings will also be bullies."
I choked when I read that. I didn't agree to this. It was never disclosed to me. But it was too late. Demon Inc has not customer service and agreement can't be challenged in any court of law.
I was a bully now and we were a family of bullies. "Go fuck youself now!" | 2021-03-27T02:14:37 | 2021-03-27T01:43:59 | 49 | 13 |
[WP] Due to a clerical error, instead of summoning Satan, you've summoned Satin. More and more satin keeps on arriving through the portal, and you're not sure what to do with it. | She walked through the door, 6-inch Laboutin stilettos clicking on the floor. My eyes followed up from the shoes, the the impossibly long legs in fishnet stockings, to an incredibly short black Dior mini-dress, to an immaculate D-cup cleavage festooned with a simple Tiffany necklace featuring (if it was real, which it no doubt was) a $10,000 DeBeers diamond, to a face done up by the best makeup artist Vegas could muster.
Her dainty hand in little diamond bracelet held a short whip.
She gave the whip a little twirl and a crack, and said, in the voice of goddesses and assassins
“I’m Satin. Who’s the birthday boy?”
I stammered... “me... but we were trying to summon Satan”
She surveyed the pentagram drawn in blood on the hotel carpet, the lambs skull and candles in the middle...
“Well baby you went to the wrong website.”
“But.... but..... I wanted to curse someone”
“I’m here for an hour, I can bless you or I can curse you, or I can turn around and go... but either way you owe me ten thousand bucks”
She turned around and made a “come here” gesture, and a bodyguard the size of a fully grown mountain gorilla in a fine Italian suit stomped into the room.
“Hand over the cash or your hell will begin shortly” | "Laugh again and I'll shove my rapier somewhere you'll regret!" Lucius circled the glowing circle on the floor, pulling yard after yard of the fabric out and shoving it to the edges of the ancient temple room. "I don't understand, sister! Where is our master?" Sable shrugged, swinging her feet back and forth on the marble bench.
"I dunno. Are we sure the virigin is dead? And a virgin?" He shot her a glare.
"Why don't you go check his pulse? Unless, of course, you'd like to be helpful here." She checked her nails.
"I dunno. Maybe if you stopped pulling–"
"Whenever I stop pulling, the portal starts to heat up and smoke!" Sable sighed and crossed the room to the stone alter. She pressed two fingers to the temple of the white-clothed figure lying there and concentrated for a moment.
"Well, he's definitely not dead." She leaned over the boy, poking him on the cheek. "Where did you stick him?"
"The femoral artery! With the ceremonial rapier! I followed the ritual just like grandfather's tome said, but–"
"You didn't cut him in the femoral artery," Sable interrupted. "There's not a scratch on his leg! Actually, he's fine except for the fact that he's got some deep lacerations on the bottom of his feet."
"I'm under a lot of pressure here, okay?" The satin continued to pour from the hole. Most of the room was covered in at least one layer by now, different colors bleeding seamlessly into the next. "What are we going to do with all of this satin?" Sable left the alter and the terrified, but paralyzed, virgin to inspect some of the fabric.
"I think this green portion is more of a cotton satine, really." Lucius took the next armful and threw it in her direction. "Hey!"
"Would you just quit your nitpicking? Obviously, something has gone terribly wrong." Sable snorted.
"You can say that again. Some bringer of the apocalypse *you* turn out to be. And with all the propechies and secret organizations trying to break in here, you'd think–"
"Listen, Sable! I don't know how to fix this, and you obviously don't, either, but we're going to have to stop it eventually." She folded her arms.
"And how do you plan on doing that?" He raised an eyebrow. "Oh *hell* no!"
"Yup. We're going to have to call grandfather." | 2021-05-31T16:04:39 | 2021-05-31T16:03:40 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] Her astronaut husband and his crew are stranded in deep space. "This is going to be such an awkward conversation", she thinks to herself as she climbs into her UFO to go up there and get him. | NASA had lost contact with the crew two days ago.
Seeing the news on her living room television, Melissa phoned the director and demanded to know how long emergency air supply and rations would last.
"Months," he had assured her. "Don't worry Mrs. Craig. Your husband being unable to communicate with us doesn't mean the crew are stranded or in danger. I'm sure they'll reconnect with Houston in no time."
But a week of nailbiting later, and NASA still couldn't contact their deep space exploration craft. All the while, pundits speculated. Could pilot Jason Craig have finally gone nuts from spending so much life in space? Surely leading over six forays into the final frontier has an effect on a man's sanity, especially when the current trip is to the outer reaches of the solar system. The cryptic transmissions right before silence, the odd movement pattern of the craft... could it all be chalked up to reason slipping from the fingers of an overtaxed captain?
Melissa knew the narrative was a lie, because her Jason had been born to spelunk the stars. It was his life's insatiable itch to tour the heavens. That was why she had married him. From their first meeting by Saturn's rings, Melissa had know that he was the one.
Jason would never recount the ethereal experience to her, but she remembered it vividly herself. Sleeping peacefully by the gas giant, she was woken by an alien craft approaching her home. Turning her otherworldly body, curious but unafraid, she watched as the human vessel stopped right by her. Through a window, she observed the youthful face of Jason Craig staring at her in awe.
Unbidden to her lips came the haunting melody of her people. It was the song that burst forth from the bride meeting her groom from the first time, and she was as surprised by the words as he was. Like a sailor entranced by a siren, Jason opened the airlock and drifted towards her in his suit, not tethered to the ship. Pulse quickening by the unexpected meeting with her one, true love, Melissa sang him closer and brought him into a tight embrace.
Then, as he slept, she returned him to his vehicle and disappeared. She knew that Jason would never bring home an alien, so instead, she became human. Ditching her old form, she took on the appearance of a woman and entered human society to find and attract her love. They married, him none the wiser, and lived a happy life.
But though he loved Melissa, Jason was always looking to space to find his lost siren. She could tell that it haunted him. But though she longed to tell him the truth, she knew that it was impossible. It would mean the end of her human disguise and their happy marriage. So she accepted that their love could only be fractional, because it was better than not having love at all.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Craig," the director said over the phone. His voice was flat but not emotionless. Melissa could feel the suppressed anger and grief. "We don't know if you're husband is ever coming back."
"No," she intoned lifelessly. "I don't think he is."
Jason had never questioned the claim that her house was passed down to her from her grandmother. In a way it was true. Her grandmother *had* given her the spaceship, though Melissa had been the one to retrofit it into a human home.
She activated the dormant craft once more, knowing that she wouldn't be back to Earth. Neighbors watched in horror and awe as she fired the thrusters and blasted her ship out of the atmosphere. Watching them dwindle into ants below made her unexpectedly melancholy. She swatted back the tears and steeled herself for the mission: rescue.
With no leads other than their last known communication, she still knew where her Jason would be. Without a second thought, she blasted off to Saturn.
His ship was ravaged. Rocks had shredded the outer hull and there clearly wasn't much internal pressure remaining for the trapped crew members. Melissa worked quickly to evacuate everyone into her ship and get them the oxygen and sustenance they needed. Soon, the only person left on the ship was the captain. Her Jason.
"Melissa?" he whispered hoarsely, gesturing vaguely in her direction. He was oxygen deprived, laying on the ground with his head propped weakly up. "Am I hallucinating?"
"Why did you come here?" she asked gently.
"You wouldn't understand darling," he said with a cough.
For the second time in her life, she burst into gorgeous song that spoke of her love for him. His eyes widened with sudden clarity, and and as her haunting melody drew to a quiet close, he whispered, "You're *her*!"
Taking him gently by the arm, she said, "We've tried Earth for a while. Come with me -- I've brought our home to us -- and we'll live in the land of my people. The land that has called you since you were a child."
For the second time, Jason followed his siren to the unknown. But for the first time, their love could be complete. | They have a saying here on Earth, that some of the natives follow in some of the remaining natural habitat: "Take only photos, leave only footprints."
I'd been bemused when I first saw it on a sign on one of my field trips, because it's a remarkably succinct summarization of the oath one swears upon joining the Extraplanetary Xenobiological Institute. Alerting an alien species, especially the only other sentient one we had ever encountered, to the presence of other life in the galaxy, was top of the list of no-no's.
But I'd taken another oath too, after fifteen years at Earth Station, one that began with the words "I, Megan, take thee, Andrew," and ended with "-until death do us part."
I suppose, if you want to argue technicalities, I had not made any explicit vow to "fly an advanced alien spacecraft into high Earth orbit to rescue you from certain death should you become stranded up there and thus prevent said parting". And if I'm honest, I don't know that I would have said it back then. Andrew was only supposed to be cover, after a string of accidental UFO sightings that had threatened to expose our presence here among the humans.
Well, I was going to blow that secrecy now. I fasted the seat restraints as my personal space runner finished its pre-launch checks. The systems check light came up green, and I pushed the clutch down, shifted into first, and began to accelerate gently upwards. This was going to be such an awkward conversation.
I'd just changed into second gear when the first call came in. My phone vibrated, and my heart skipped a beat. Andrew had given me that phone on my last birthday (or on the day in the Earth's solar cycle that I had picked to be that anniversary). Reality came back instantly. He was stranded in space. There was no way he could possibly contact me. Indeed, I'd only heard about his crew's accident via the national news.
No, the call was my boss at Earth Station, Dave (not his true name). That was going to be another awkward conversation, and also probably a career-ending one. I let it go to voicemail. His text came a few minutes later: "What's going on? CALL ME."
By the time I debated whether I should respond, and if so, what possible excuse I could give to explain my ship's highly illegal ascent into the atmosphere, we had got out of range of the cell phone towers. The signal icon dropped to nothing. I put the phone away.
It buzzed again, almost immediately.
The caller ID said "Studmuffin". The name Andrew had put for himself in my contacts when he'd given me the phone. The name I'd jokingly called him on our third date when he got a hole-in-one at mini-golf. That was two days after he'd told me that he'd always wanted to be an astronaut, and two years before we got married. Sometime between then and now he'd gone from a convenient cover story to an alien I'd risk changing a planet's history for.
The phone was still ringing in my hand, and I was looking at it in bewilderment. It was impossible that it could be ringing. For one thing, I was out of cell phone range, and for another Andrew had no ability to make calls from his space ship, even before it had malfunctioned.
I hit the green button to accept the call. "Andrew?"
"Hey, honey." There was a lot of static, but there was no mistaking that baritone. "How are you?"
"I'm- I'm fine. But-"
"You're probably wondering how I'm calling you? Did you see us on the news? Yeah, not a great situation we're in. But listen, it's not as bad as they're probably making it out to be. I need you to do something for me. Where are you now?"
"On my way to the supermarket," I said. "We were out of milk."
"I think the bottle in the fridge expired yesterday," he said. "But listen, I need you to turn around. I want you to drive to a private storage facility outside of town."
"Andrew, what's-"
"I'll explain on the way," he said. "I wouldn't be asking you to do this unless it was urgent, but, well, we're in a little bit of a sticky situation up here, Pickle." That was my nickname in his contacts.
"How is me going to some storage facility possibly going to help you fix a broken oxygen system in space?"
"Ah," he said. "Well, that's the rub. I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest with you, Pickle. You're actually going to find another spaceship there."
"Another spaceship," I repeated.
"Yes," he said. "It's... a little more advanced than the one I'm in now. And it might look a little... alien."
"Alien." A strange, cold feeling hit me in the pits of both my stomachs. I shifted my own space runner up another gear.
"And I know you don't have any idea how to fly a space ship," he continued, with what I could tell after all these years was forced cheerfulness, "but don't worry, I can walk you through it all over the phone."
My navigation system announced, "Leaving planetary atmosphere."
"What was that?" he asked. "Is there somebody else with you? I hate to be difficult right now, but this is something you need to keep to yourself if possible."
"Just the car GPS," I said. "So, where am I going?"
He gave me the address of the storage facility. "How long until you can get there?"
I looked at my navigation system's estimated arrival time to intercept his drifting rocket. "Thirty minutes," I said.
"Drive safe," he said. "But Megan... do hurry, please. The others crew members are starting to suffer from lack of oxygen." But not him, I noticed.
"I'll call you back when I get there," I said, and stamped on the accelerator. "Talk to you soon."
It was shaping up to be an extremely awkward conversation.
---
More stories at /r/jd_rallage | 2021-07-24T14:57:59 | 2021-07-24T14:56:44 | 512 | 330 |
[WP] Excalibur is not a sword. It is a weapon that appears in many forms, conferring extreme luck to the pure hearted chosen wielder. And the Lady is the giver of this weapon, who can also take many forms. | It was cold as a witch's tit that mornin', but the deer ain't gonna put themselves in the freezer, ya know? Pa and me got up two hours before the sun thought about comin' up.
As we was a-creepin' up ta where we'd put the stand, mah sleepy brain finally noticed that the rifle case was a touch light.
"Daddy?"
"What Artie?"
"I think I fergot ta pack yer twelve gauge."
"What are you'n on about, boy?"
"You wanted the twelve gauge pump. I fergot ta put it in the case."
My daddy is a good man, but sometimes he ain't a real patient one.
"Boy, I swear if brains were buckshot, you'd be shootin' blanks. You expect me t'scare the deer t'death?"
"No, Daddy."
"An you 'member that there's a five hundred dollar prize for the biggest rack down at the VFW, don't ya?"
"Yes, daddy."
"Well what ya waitin' fer? I told ya it'd be better ta jes sling it, but you didn't want to git it wet. I decided to humor ya, that's on me. You better git ta runnin' back and fetch that gun, ya here?"
I didn't need no further encouragement, so I took off like my pants was on fire. Now, I been wonderin' these woods fer better part of my life. I know 'em like I know the Gospel, even in the dark. Still, I zigged when I should of zagged an instead of comin' up past the shed, I came around behind our pool.
Now that above ground pool is a lotta fun in the summer and Daddy kept tellin' Mama he was fixin' ta drain it, but he ain't done it yet. I come up on it and hear somethin' like splashin and there was some water and leaves sloshin' over the side. I thought our hound dog was about ta drown his self, so I got up on tha deck and took a look.
I swear, right hand ta God and Bocephus that down in that pool, there was a real, real purty girl. She had on boots, Daisy Dukes, a flannel tied up over her belly button and a black Stetson on her head. She was just about the prettiest thing my fourteen year old eyes had ever landed on. I was about ta jump in, thinkin' she was drownin', but fore I could get my Carhartt off, she comes risin' up like she's a balloon. In her hand is the finest double barrel I ever did see. It had exposed hammers, this wavy pattern in the bluing on the barrels, and the wood was just as pretty as you please.
She lays there, smilin', holdin' that side by side just above the surface.
You ever look at somthin' an jes know it's yours? Like it's go yet name on it?
Well, that's how this felt, except what was written on it was "Excalibur".
I didn't know where a body could get x-caliber cartridges, but that weren't what I was thinkin'. She slung that thing at my head and I reached out, caught it.
We took down a twelve point buck that day. My first deer. My daddy showed me how t'dress it right, so ya don't knick the guts wrong an make it taste bad, like ya kin do.
Anyway, that's why I reckon that I outts be yer class president. Vote for me! | It was quiet, silent. The room was wrapped in the kind of silence that was as deafening as thunder. The kind of silence that could amplify the softest cough. It was as soft as clouds, as jagged as a blade. A silence that was friend and foe. People could hide in that kind of silence and say nothing at all. People could be stripped bare in the quiet and scream their entire beings.
She sat in the silence. She let it drape over her, as comforting as a warm blanket. She felt it isolate her from the rest of the world. She tried to let it speak for her, to warn others away. The quiet made her feel safe, not at all feeling compelled to break it, to fill it. Instead she let her pen fill the void. Little scratches of the pen tip on paper filled the air. She liked the sound of it. Some found the sound to be annoying and distracting. She never did.
Her sniffles on the other hand were very distracting.
The quiet was equally her friend as it was her foe. It kept others away, allowing her to rest in solitude. It also made her sniffles even more apparent. It made the sounds seem even louder than they were. The sniffles grated in her ears. They made her sound more upset than she sounded.
More upset than she was willing to admit.
Before the sniffles could become sobs. Before the sobs could be wails. Before her displeasure could become despair. She felt someone approach her. The clicking of heels on the stone floor were a welcome distraction. The scratching of the pen became as still as the room as a person approached her.
The woman looked down at her. Intelligent green eyes peered from round glasses. Her face was aquiline, features so severe they looked to be carved. Brown hair was plaited in an elegant bun. Most found her to appear foreboding. More found her terrifying.
The girl loved her.
The girl wanted to be like the woman. No one disrespected the woman. Every single one that tried were reduced to tears be her. The woman commanded respect. Her presence oozed control. She was everything the girl wanted to be. No one dared to disrespect the woman. No one laughed at her, mocked her hard work. No one broke her pens.
The woman smiled at the girl. "Are you alright dear?"
The girl nodded her head.
The woman did not believe it. "It's okay if you aren't. I saw what they did. They won't do it again."
The girl sniffled again, resisting the urge to wipe her eyes. Resisting the urge to melt in front of her heroine.
The woman smiled knowingly. "I was like you once." She chuckled at the girl's look of disbelief. "It's true. Everyone feels like this. Looked down upon. Ignored. Ridiculed. Others have a way of making you feel so very small. Make you feel useless, powerless, weak."
The girl shook with each word, each sound piercing her heart. "How-how...how do I stop them?"
The woman placed a thin case in front of the girl. It was grey and heavy, feeling and looking like stone. "You don't run away from your feelings. You use them. Don't shy away from the pain, harness it. Give them a reason to fear you. Use your gift."
The girl opened the case with shaking fingers. She gasped at the object within. The pen was new and old at the same time. Clad in bright silver, the sharp point gleamed. She pulled it from the stone case, marveling at the weight of it. It felt heavy in her hand, ancient, powerful. It felt made for her.
The woman whispered in her ear. "They fear your words. That's why they tried to stop you, tried to silence you. Give credence to their fear. Use your words in a way only you can. Make them learn that you cannot be stopped. Your words will be your deedds, and they will stand the test of time."
The woman walked away. A smile grew on her lips as she heard the scratching of the pen. The sound was smoother than before, full of confidence. The silence of the room was swallowed by the sounds. The pen filled the air with promise.
The sniffles were gone.
The girl remained. | 2021-11-06T21:31:19 | 2021-11-06T19:38:47 | 153 | 41 |
[WP] Earth narrowly defeats an attack from an alien race. During the peace negotiations, one alien asks “Why didn’t you use the death beams?” You look confused, so the alien points at a photo of the Egyptian pyramids and says again “Why didn’t you use the death beams?” | "As far as we are aware, those aren't death beams. Those are tombs." I responded. There had been rumors about this.
The alien ambassador looked at me quizzically. It then sifted forward on its data hologram. The translator spoke.
"Surely you jest. This entire structure was scanned deeply. Your planet was chosen for invasion due to the higher end of technology you had available to you that you seemed to have abandoned. Also, the shape indicates a death beam. pyramidal structure with an intricate geometry that extends deep below the surface. We even tried to hack into them through your internet, but clearly you cut it off from any sort of outside signals."
I looked at the alien ambassador incredulously. "May I see?" I asked.
He swiped over the scans and I couldn't believe what I saw. Intricate metal patterns reminiscent of some sort of mathematical ratio snaked down beneath the surface of the pyramids. They were gigantic.
I then understood his concern. Assuming this was some sort of death beam, we could have blasted their orbital entries from the sky, considering they landed initially in Egypt. It explained why their difficulty in pushing outwards from a place that wasn't considered one of the major military powers of the world; why they were entrenched around the pyramids themselves; the digging that occurred and interrogations that made no sense. Their major ship's shields had been useless against ballistic weaponry. Humans weren't the best at orbital wars but give us a target, and we'll shoot.
Our railguns were highly effective at taking them down, resulting in a stunt in their invasion forces. Orbital superiority became obfuscated, as dominance in the sky remained contested until the very end of the invasion.
With their scanning technology, who knows what else we would find below earth's surface, as well as elsewhere. | A long pregnant pause fills the room as, for a moment I was unsure how to proceed. "Will you excuse me for a moment".
"Certainly", said Beebblebroux, the pig like alien across the table from me with what I assume was a quizzical look.
I walked into the hallway trying to think of the implications of this. As I thought I impulsively brought my phone to my ear and turned my back to the Swinefium representative. What if they only surrendered thinking we could bring far more devastation than we had to their fleets? We narrowly survived as it was. What if they had reserves primed and ready to send a second wave?
On the other hand, what could the implications be if I try to bluff my way out for our long term relationship. This is, after all, our first contact with another race from another planet. Would deception be the best policy to begin interacting with them?
It must have appeared to them I was in a heated conversation with someone. The truth is that someone was myself. After some time it came to me. It was time to draw on those acting and improv classes that my parents told me were a waste of time. I slumped my shoulders a bit before regaining my composure, then walked back in with as nondescript of a face as I could muster.
"I am truly sorry Beeblebroux, that is on a need to know basis".
"What? I...I don't understand. Are you saying you are not willing, after all, to have a free and open communication? I thought you wanted peace?" Even with his alien gestures that I was still getting used to, it was unmistakable that he was growing very angry.
"Yes, I understand your concerns, and you can trust that our desire is to share as much information as we can for the best possible relationship moving forward. There is much for us to learn from you as I am sure there is much for you to glean from such a relationship. After all it has been such a long time since such a cooperation has taken place for us. This part of space has grown very lonely for us. However, this information has been deemed more dangerous to share than the potential good it could do in fostering goodwill between our species."
"Well I would say it must be lonely. Yours is the only planet with life in this galaxy that our scanners can see. The next is even sparsely populated."
"Yes", I bluffed with as nondescript of a face as I could hold, "we know".
"How could you know? Our intel shows you are incapable of ftl travel?"
"That, also, is on a need to know basis"
There was another pregnant pause as Beeblebroux and his companion exchanged worried glances and a few looks of horror. Cautiously he spoke after a long time.
"Yours is a curious race mr. Trump"
"Yes. Now what else would you like to discuss".
"Can you explain...Tik Tok?" | 2021-11-16T07:00:15 | 2021-11-16T05:10:14 | 34 | 11 |
[WP] Everyone's always happy in your uncle's presence. As his favorite naphew, he invited you to go stargazing one night. "Well, it's been fun, but now it's time for me to go back. See you around kiddo." You thought he was joking, but you never saw him again. No one else seemed to remember him too. | Uncle George smiled, and I didn’t know it then, but I would know it later—it was the sort that didn’t quite stretch to your eyes, the kind that meant goodbye, instead of see you again.
“Well, it’s been fun, but now it’s time for me to go back,” Uncle George smiled. “See you around, kiddo.”
Light engulfed him, turning him into a sparkly beacon, each particle slowly floating upwards out of sight. And then he was gone.
I stared at the stars, too quiet for their own good. The silence hung like a heavy weight around my neck, preventing me from even speaking.
I could never forget Uncle George. But everybody else did. Whether it was a calm conversation with my brother, or with teary eyes, the only comfort my mother’s embrace, it did not change both facts.
He was gone. He was well and truly gone.
---
I walked down the street, feeling the snow drifting past my face, and huddling my coat closer around me, slightly cursing the bulky present that I had chosen.
It was bitterly cold, and my dry skin fully attested to that. My hand was shaking as I rang the doorbell. I heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet on a wooden floor, and the door cracked open to reveal the bundle of energy that was Daniel. He flew straight towards me, hugging me tightly.
It wasn’t so cold any more.
“Uncle Gavin!”
“Hey there, kiddo,” I ruffled his ever-messy, perpetually sweaty hair.
It wasn’t long before I was dragged inside to welcoming warmth. Daisy, bless her soul, still had a tired smile for me, despite what I’m sure has been a tough holiday season.
“Gavin,” she said. “I really appreciate you being here.”
“Of course, Daisy,” I nodded, which was all I could get out before being dragged into the living room by the boy.
The living room was relatively well-kept, especially considering there was Hurricane Daniel to contain. I placed his present in front of Daniel, who whooped with delight—and turned into louder cries of elation when he realized what was inside.
“A telescope?”
“A toy one,” I said. “But good enough to look at the moon, and stare at the stars.”
“I love it, Uncle Gavin,” Daniel said, muffling himself as he dug his head into my shoulder. I patted his back.
“Can we set it up, now?”
There was no energy in the world purer than an enthusiastic child. It took near half an hour for what should be a simple setup, but there was simply no advising a boy who thought he knew what he was doing. But when he stepped back and admired his handiwork, it was the sort of smile that came genuinely from hard work, from the heart.
I brought it over to the window, and he looked into it.
“Can you see the moon?”
“The snow keeps falling,” he complained.
“I’ll bring you out some day, when it’s nicer weather than now. It’ll be good to be out in the open and look at the stars.”
“Really, Uncle Gavin?”
“Of course,” I said.
Time passes when you are having fun. It was difficult to coax Daniel to bed, but Daisy’s stern look could convince a statue to move.
“Well, it’s been fun, but now it’s time for me to go back,” I said, ruffling my nephew’s hair. “See you around, kiddo.”
“When will you be back?”
I smiled. It was the sort that I remembered Uncle George making many times, jolly and wide, but it also inevitably brought the memory of that last smile back to me. I understood now. It was the kind that didn’t want to say goodbye, but he had to.
Uncle George was no longer around. But that didn’t mean Uncle Gavin couldn’t be.
“Whenever you want, kiddo.”
---
r/dexdrafts | Life just went as usual after that, you went to school, played with friends did your homework. It was wired, someone who seemed like such a big part of your life just vanished but nothing seemed to change.
You yourself almost forgot about him untill a year later you need to get a tent for the boy scouts trip. You ask mom where is it and she answers in the attic. as you get there you find an old album with a thick layer of dust on it, you open it and find old photos of your parents at trips that happened before you were born. As you scroll through the pages you suddenly find it, a photo of your parents with your uncle in London.
You grab the picture and the tent and head to your mom. She sees you and ask "Did you find it" you nod your hand but before you get to show her the picture she says "great, put it besides the door and go outside to help your dad with the garden" you do as mom says and help dad with the garden, after a long day of work you take of your clothes and have a shower. After the shower you get straight into you PJs and got to your room to play some Minecraft online with your friends.
the next day, as you get ready for your trip you suddenly remember the picture, you ask mom at the table "mom, have you been to London with dad?" mom looks at you funny "yes we did about two years before you were born, how did you know?" you answer eagerly "I saw a photo in the album at the attic of you with dad and uncle" your mom keeps looking at you "what uncle? it was just your dad and I" you know you have the photo "I have the photo, I will show you" you run to the laundry room to fetch your pants in which you forgot the picture but the pockets are empty, you search on the floor and in the room but nothing. you hear mom calls "honey, get ready we need to go in twenty minutes"
You get on the bus and have a blast with your friends in the trip, the day before the trip ends, at the evening you go to the woods to pee before heading to bed and as you turn around you see uncle waving a flashlight. "Uncle!' you shout as you run to give him a hug, your uncle hugs you back. "What's up kiddo?" you ask him "uncle where have you been?" he answers "it doesn't matter, I am here now, do you want to grab some ice cream?" you nod your head and you leave the camp through the woods to get ice cream, he tells you how he came back from a great land where everyone wore orange and he says they feed him and gave him shelter and he made lots of friends but he left it all just so he could see you, you had fun eating ice cream, he took you after that to see a movie and he took you after that to McDonald's, you had so much fun until at one point you fell asleep.
you woke up by mom picking you up, hugging you and crying "are you alright? did he hurt you? did he do something to you?" you are very fuzzy and tired, you don't know what's going on "mom, I am okay, I had fun with uncle" mom doesn't answer she just hold you and doesn't let go. after a couple minutes your dad comes, he takes you from moms hands "we need to take him to the hospital" you fall asleep again in the car and wake up at the hospital, a nurse comes to you "You woke up! how are we feeling?" you answer "hungry, where is mom and dad?" the nurse says "they are at the police station, they should be back soon" you ask "and where is uncle?" the nurse makes an uneasy expression "your uncle was found in someone's house" you ask "what did he do in someone's house?" the nurse is trying to find the right words "he tried to hurt the people inside the house so the police came and, well, he died" you started crying, you don't know what to do, you just got uncle back but now he is gone, for ever. He was the best uncle ever, he got you cool things, he played games with you, he gave you candy when dad wasn't looking. he was the best, but now he is gone.
At the six o'clock news you hear "The escaped prisoner has returned his nephew to his parents before breaking into the house of the smiths family and trying to rob them, Mr. smith saw the prisoner and shout him three times in order to protect his family, 'not only I protected my family, I protected the community as well' said Mr.Smith 'I don't know how people like him doesn't get the chair after murdering three people' The child is safe and seems to be well, up Next..."
After that life went as normal, after the excitement died down you went back to school, played with the same friends, did your homework, everything was normal but from that day, you never asked what happened to uncle | 2021-11-22T10:47:22 | 2021-11-22T07:48:47 | 59 | 34 |
[WP] At the age of 15 you gain the ability to see people's pain as glowing red areas on their skin. For this reason you became a doctor. One day you meet someone who is smiling and acting normal wile glowing like the sun all over. | Hi. My name is Alex Smith and I can see pain.
Now, that doesn't mean I can see injuries. Sometimes people will come to my office with severed nerve endings from a childhood injury, and I can never really see the glow. But it often comes in handy when you work in a hospital. I often get complimented for being so quick to identify what's wrong. It may seem a little unfair to my fellow doctors, but fairness doesn't matter when I'm saving lives and keeping people healthy.
Some people come in with *mental* pain, and that can manifest in a number of different ways. Sometimes their heads light up like a light bulb. For others there's a faint glow throughout their entire body, like a plastic glow-in-the-dark dinosaur with anxiety.
There have even been cases of phantom limb pain, where I can see a hand or foot that isn't actually there.
Some sources of pain radiate outwards, some pulse, some stab deeply throughout the afflicted area. But never have I seen a case as severe as the one I'm about to tell you about.
I was walking my usual route in the morning, casually observing the usual headaches, allergy pains, and sore knees and feet. But I saw something that stopped me in my tracks.
Looking at this man was like staring at a lightbulb. I swear I got secondhand pain just from looking at him.
His *entire body* radiated with a pervasive shine, a wicked glow that betrayed something deep inside.
My first thought was that he should be in shock, writhing on the ground, screaming.
My second thought was what could possibly cause such *agony* throughout his ENTIRE BODY?!
And then I noticed the smile on his face. It was sincere, warm and calming despite the distressing pain he must be in.
I saw his eyes through the pain inside, and they were calm and sparkling, not rife with pain and terror. These were they eyes of a man who understood what was happening. The eyes of someone happy with their lot in life.
He made eye contact with me, and as he approached, I knew I had to speak with him. I stopped in the middle of the crowd. I waved him to me, and he approached, with a smile on his face.
"I--"
"Hush. Let's get out of the way of these fine people."
I then became aware of the curses and growing headaches in my general vicinity. He put a radiant hand on my shoulder, and led me inside coffee shop. I was afraid to move his hand, fearful of any additional pain I could cause.
He sat down, and gestured for me to join him. I sat across from him, squinting my eyes.
"Hello. Do you have a question for me?"
"Well, I-- it's just-- how do-- why does--"
He held up his hand, and I fell silent.
He told me a story of himself and his beloved brother, divided by a disagreement within their family. He said he had a well-known father who disinherited a large part of his family for believing something other than was required. He spoke of torture for those cast away, ceaseless agony for the family he loved.
He spoke of a spell he wove behind his father's back, concocted with the help of his mother, who wept for her family.
He spoke of taking the pain upon himself to save his brother.
He spoke of thousands of years learning to understand the pain.
He spoke of awakening to find his father had left.
He spoke of contact with the brother he thought he lost.
Of pain losing its sting.
Agony dulled by the passing of trillions of years.
When he finished the story, he thanked me for reminding me of his past, as my mind spun with memories and stories that were not my own.
And when he walked away, I could see glowing wings where he once had none. A phantom pain, from something long since lost.
His name was Michael.
And he will bear the pain of billions for years to come. | I stared in shock, my second sight barely usable due to the brightness. I felt the instinctive urge to close my eyes, though I knew from experience it would do nothing. I knew I had to speak with that man, otherwise my curiosity would be unbearable for the rest of my life. I followed him into the parking garage, instead of continuing towards the restaurant for my lunch break as I had planned.
I caught up to him on the second level, and called out hesitatingly, "Hey... uh, this might sound strange, but are you in any pain right now?"
As he turned around at my greeting, the smile dropped from his face after hearing my question, and his expression turned unreadable, as he brought his hand to his face and covered his eyes with it for a moment.
"Let's talk in my car. I don't want anybody to overhear." Fair enough, I thought, though I was a bit leery of entering a strange man's car, that was mostly mitigated by the strange situation, and the fact that I had approached him first.
Sitting in the passenger seat, I turned to face him. He was staring blankly ahead, I assumed he was deep in thought. "So, you can sense pain somehow, right?" he finally said.
I nodded hesitantly, before noticing he still wasn't looking at me. "Yes, and I've never seen someone in as much pain as you are, but you're acting completely normal."
He nodded as if he expected my response, though I quickly looked away, it wasn't very comfortable looking directly at the sun, after all, even if it wasn't my actual eyes that were perceiving the brightness.
"Well, you see, ma'am, there are certain things that can effect or happen to somebody that are simply irreversible. Most people effected by those things choose to "take the easy way out" as the privileged and uncaring like to refer to it." a deep sigh escaped his lips as he finished speaking, his shoulders slumping, making him seem smaller than he was.
"But me," he continued, "I was "lucky" enough to fall in love with someone almost the instant my living hell ended. He was my everything. He knew how much pain I was in, all the disgusting details of how I was abused for years. He loved me, I loved him." the man was sobbing now, barely managing to speak coherently.
"You don't have to-"
"No. Let me finish. Then leave. Please." I nodded hesitantly, not sure if I should have tried to satisfy my curiosity after all.
"Everything was perfect, or as perfect as it can be when you're constantly suffering on a level that most others cannot even comprehend. I even promised him that I would never, ever kill myself..." he managed between sobs and gasping breaths, his whole body shaking "But then he met his sister. They were adopted out into different families at birth. He had no family, really, so he was extremely excited to get to know her. The only problem was, she hated me for some reason."
We sat there in silence for a couple of minutes, his sobs slowing as I sat there, feeling awkward and wishing I had left him alone, guilt at bringing up past trauma nearly causing me to just walk away.
"She... she started lying about me. Making up small things to blame on me, even destroying her own property and blaming it on me. This went on for months, I even bought a camera and set it up to show my innocence, but she threw a fit and insinuated I was some sort of pervert wanting to watch videos of her in our kitchen or living room. My other half told me he believed me, that I didn't need the cameras, it was fine. I wish he had never met her."
"She escalated her lies. I "killed her kitten" (and of course she would never do that to blame on me, she's an animal lover, how dare I insinuate otherwise) never mind the fact that I like animals more than I like most people. Her last lie though... that's what ended it all. She said I raped her. I don't know why he believed her, when he knows how disgusted I am by the female body. But, he did. He left. He was the only person who ever cared about me. He was my only friend. He was the only thing keeping me alive. I made that stupid promise to him, and I'm still bound to keep it. I still love him, with all my heart. I don't understand what happened."
His sobs were heavy and ugly now, tears and snot flowing from his face and covering his shirt.
"So now every moment of every day is pure torment. Does that satisfy your curiosity, yet?" he asked me softly, finally turning to look at me.
I nodded mutely. I had nothing to say to that. I don't know what you even COULD say to that. So I left.
His brightness was blinding, even as I walked away, shining through the back of my head. | 2021-12-01T20:59:35 | 2021-12-01T19:55:29 | 865 | 126 |
[WP] You are a serial killer, and you are nearly finished digging a hole for your latest victim when you hear steps approaching from the dark. Ready for anything, you shine your flashlight, gun at the ready, to see...another killer carrying another body. | When you choose to kill there are certain rules you need to follow.
1. Clean up your trash.
2. Live in harmony with nature.
3. Hot blood is for the living.
Follow those rules and you’re home free most of the time. Don’t follow them and you turn into some Two-Body-Andy in lockup out in Arizona or New Mexico: some place where the security is just lax enough that you have a fighting chance of dying to the desert.
My name is Clarence— fifteen bodies and counting. Nice to meet you.
\*\*\*
That night I was following the rules. Incidentally, I’d learned them from a pro I killed. Not a serial killer— you don’t kill brothers in arms— but the mob guys are open season.
See, I knew my environment. There were curious deer all around me and nothing else, and even though I'd never used that specific stretch of forest before per-se, I knew there wasn’t a burrowing creature larger than a groundhog in any part of those woods. I knew, fortuitously, that a crazy bastard by the name of Big Jim Broward had poached all the predators out of those woods. He’d killed all the coyotes, trapped and killed the two feral dogs, hunted down and stuffed the last black bear in these parts. See, he’d bragged to me about it before I killed him. It was Big Jim that I was burying that night.
Picture a biker bar on a desultory Tuesday night, two men at the bar, three seats between them because the big one stank. They spill out into the world amid quiet laughter at those old, universal jokes— mostly about the women they’d known. Picture the sky overhead, clouds passing across a half-moon as the big man is brought low. Thrashing and choking, a silk scarf wrapped around a scraggly bearded throat. Cold blood all the way down to death.
That’s what got me there that night, grunting over a grave as I fulfilled my Rules in backward order. Six feet under, and then because seven was my lucky number on Tuesdays I went an extra foot, tipped Big Jim into the grave to land with a solid, meaty thump that scared off all the deer.
I remember that I stood there on the edge of the grave, looking out across a dawn threatened forest, thinking that the world couldn’t get any more beautiful. Because you see, there’s nothing in the whole wide world quite like a dead man at your feet. Well, nothing except a beautiful woman, but I was fresh out of those and anyway there wasn’t the same sense of accomplishment. Big Jim had been, well, big. He’d fought like a wildcat when I strangled him.
I stared out at the beautiful night, hot blood rising in my veins now that all the Rules had been fulfilled. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the worn silk scarf, the one bit of my trash I could never bear to clean. I sniffed the scarf, smelled Big Jim’s stench, wrapped that stench and that fear and the aborted promise of life around my throat and pulled it comfortingly tight. I leaned back and sighed at the moon, let the world and the power rush through me.
It got me so high that I almost missed the gun.
*Click.*
It took a few stunned seconds to come back down into Rule Three. Seconds that felt like years. In the distance I saw a deer watching, and I remember that the strangest thought came over me: *I hope he doesn’t see what happens.*
It’s why I killed Big Jim after all. Some things, nature shouldn’t have to live through.
*Look away little deer*, I thought. What I said was, “You gonna use that thing?”
And what she said was: “I already did.”
There’s a tone a man gets when he’s killed before. I’d never thought I’d hear it in a woman’s voice. Especially not so fresh, so vital. So terribly frightened.
“Ma’am,” I said, “do you realize what you just walked into?”
“Yeah,” she said. Just *‘yeah,’* in that same ‘*I just killed someone*’ sort of tone.
So I said, “Ma’am, I’m gonna be straight with you. I’ve never killed a woman. Now, if my life was properly threatened I’d strangle god himself, but I’m constitutionally opposed to hurting women under any other circumstance. So I’m gonna turn around, and you’re gonna put that gun down, and we’re gonna talk this through. Got it?”
She didn’t say anything. I turned around anyway. She had a gun, a big one. She didn’t shoot.
She had a body with her too, a small one wrapped up in a ratty blue tarp that she’d left at the edge of the clearing. All that beauty in the night, any other time I’d have heard her long before she crept up on me.
The girl was tall and slender, covered in mud and cuts and bruises. There were twigs in her hair and her flannel shirt was missing half the buttons, torn off in whatever titanic struggle had lead her to the gun and the body. A man, I knew without asking. One who’d probably deserved what he’d gotten.
I remember thinking: *damn her eyes are huge*, and *damn her hand is shaking*, and, *damn she’s got bad trigger discipline.*
“Ma’am—” I began.
She brandished the weapon. “Stop calling me that.”
I nodded. “Then I’m gonna need a name.”
“You’re not getting one.”
“Perfectly understandable Ma’am. Now please, lower the gun. If you were going kill me you’d have done it already, and for what it’s worth I don’t have a gun myself.” I pointed to the grave, the pile of dirt still waiting beside it. “Big Jim had a gun, but as you can see he’s a bit out of reach at the moment.”
She didn’t lower the gun, but her finger released that palsied-claw grip on the trigger.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered. | “Mind if we double up? I sprained my wrist last week in a charity tennis match, don’t think I’ll be able to dig a hole with it.” The man said, dragging the body over to my hole, trying to push it into the unfinished grave. I placed my foot in front of him, blocking him from littering the grave. When he had stopped moving, I grabbed my flashlight, shining it into his eyes, watching in amusement as he recoiled, dropping his corpse, trying to shield his eyes.
“What kind of murderer shares a grave? It’s not even finished; you realize that someone could find it at this depth. Go dig your own hole. I’m not sharing. That’s just weird, who stores two bodies in a grave?”
The man wiped his eyes, moving out of my flashlight’s view. It took him a moment to regain his composure, before he drew his own flashlight and, in a rather immature move, flashed me in the eyes with it, causing me to stumble back, nearly falling into the recently dug grave. “Murderers who are efficient. Come on, I’ll dig one next time. It’s sore, doctor says I shouldn’t be using it.”
Now it was my turn to stagger around, hopelessly wiping my eyes after the blinding light. How did he even find this place? It was a remote forest thirty miles away from any towns; it wasn’t a place that people often came across. When the eye floaters cleared, I glanced at the body behind him, seeing a man in his early thirties. The man dressed in short white tennis shorts and a bloodied white top.
“You killed a tennis player? Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious? If the cops discover he’s missing, they might link it back to you.” I explained, hoping that this idiot would see some reason. I couldn’t have an amateur like him ruining my favorite spot.
“I’m Golden Arm Ricky, a legend in my hometown. Like anyone would suspect a recently retired hometown hero to be a dastardly murderer. I guarantee you my name won’t even come up in the investigation. It’s not like I’m targeting opponents; I’m just taking down people who try to copy my style of play. I have this move, the right-handed wing fling.” He tried to elaborate further, but stopped when I slammed my shovel into the ground.
“Whatever, forget I asked. Look, if you want to share a grave, then at the very least help prepare the bodies while I dig. Take their IDs off them, things like that.” I explained, returning to my hole once more.
“Right. I can do that.” The next ten minutes were quiet. Only disturbed by the sound of bugs clicking or my huffs as I threw out another pile of dirt. Unfortunately, silence cannot last forever, and Golden Arm Ricky spoke up, pointing to the body beside my hole.
“So, why did you kill him?”
“Why would I tell you? I don’t need you going to the police about the matter.”
“Oh, come on. You have way more evidence against me than I have on you. What did they do?” He didn’t plan to drop the subject, so I reluctantly gave him an answer.
“He didn’t give me any sauce with my Big flopper meal. How does one eat a Big flopper meal without sauce? Do you know how dry that is? That’s not all though. He didn’t even give me a toy with my meal or tell me to have a nice day. Rudeness like that can’t be ignored.” I could feel my face warming with internal rage, having to take a breath to steady myself.
“That’s it? That’s why you killed someone. Over a meal? A kid’s meal.” I could already sense his disgust, making me feel as though I had to clarify.
“It’s not a kid’s meal, it’s a BIG flopper meal. The big part means it’s for adults too.”
“That’s just a marketing thing. Trust me, I did work for them when I was sponsored by them. It’s the same meal with bigger portions. What adult meal comes with a toy? The big part makes kids feel special, meaning they will often pester their parents into buying them the more expensive meal. Honestly, sometimes I think they are worse than I am.”
“Well, maybe more adult meals should come with a toy. Look, you don’t get it. I timed my meal so I would get the super rare golden Bizzbozz card. They only make about two thousand of them. I tracked the shipments to stores and everything. He purposely forgot the card so I couldn’t have it, probably pocketed it for himself. Then the whole sauce thing. He deserves worse than this.”
Ricky just continued to stare at me. His stare causing me to glance away, feeling oddly self-conscious about my whole reason for murdering the worker. I continued to dig, hoping he would just ignore my reasoning and go back to whatever he was doing, but he didn’t. He just watched me clear more dirt until speaking up.
“You never mentioned it was a golden Bizzbozz. I would have done that same.” Ricky spat at the ground by the body before giving it a kick. “No one touches a man’s Bizzbozz. So, do you go around collecting rare Flopper items or something?”
“Yeah, and I kill those who wrong me along the way. This is the third person to refuse to give me what is rightfully mine. I can’t stand that rudeness.”
“I get it. I feel the same way about my tennis thing. It’s my technique and people try to steal it. Is the grave done yet?” He peered over the hole, looking in. “Little deep, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I got a little caught up in our conversation. I didn’t realize how deep I had dug the hole. Help me out?” I offered him my hand, watching as he gave me his none injured wrist to hold, pulling me up from the hole. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” We moved the bodies into the grave, stacking them on top of each other before I filled it in, leaving the two corpses hidden. “Phew, that’s exhausting work.”
“Looked exhausting. How about we go get a couple of Big flopper meals? My victim had a nice stack of cash in his wallet, money that can’t be traced back to us. How about we enjoy a meal, courtesy of him?” Ricky flashed the wallet, revealing a row of neatly stacked green papers, enough to buy at least two hundred meals.
“Sounds like a plan. Let’s go to the one on the corner of Halit Street. There are no cameras at that location. Just in case we have to make a return to this place tonight.”
“Good thinking.” With that, we returned to our cars, planning to meet up for a late-night dinner, hoping that the employees would get our meals right, neither of us wishing to return here tonight.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-12-14T19:47:14 | 2021-12-14T18:56:30 | 1,047 | 56 |
[WP] For a thousand years, mages have imbued wands with their power. They have enchanted rings, amulets, swords, staves, armor, and all manner of shining bauble. However, to your knowledge, you are the first to use... a pocket watch. Why? Well, frankly, you just thought it would be neat. | The wizards faced off for their duel. Holding his staff in a white knuckle grip, Agnaron glared at Norgarth. "I'll teach you to have an affair with another man's wife, you cur!"
"I already know how to do that, Agny. Just ask your soon to be ex." Agnaron's temper increased, not only at the truth of Norgarth's words but of his taunt. 'Good. Now he'll get careless," thought Norgarth as he looked at the time on his pocket watch. "I see you're here a bit early, but then, Magna say you had a problem with coming too soon."
"Why you son of a basilisk! I'll Kill you!"
"Actually, Magna likes my little basilisk. She always knows when he enters her cave, not just staying at the entrance and knocking."
"ENOUGH!" Agnaron raised his staff and started his swift incantaion. Norgarth let his watch slip from his fingers, while holding on to the chain. As it came to the end, Norgarth started spinning it in a circle in front of him, faster and faster: so fast it appeared to be a solid, circular shield, Just in time, as Aganron's Magical Bolts headed towards him. The watch and chain absorbed them. A quick flick of the wrist, and the watch landed in his hand. Facing it towards Aganaron, He opened the case with the press of a button unleashing the absorbed magical blasts mixed with his own mana.
The bolt hit Agnaron directly in the chest, leaving smoke wafting up from the large hole where his heart once dwelt. He fell to the ground, his now unseeing eyes wide open. He'd passed on to the next world as his familiar met him on the rainbow bridge.
Walking over to his vanquished opponent, Norgarth looked at the corpse, shaking his head. "Now I know how Magna feels: That was over too quickly."
As he put his magical tool back in it's place, the pocket of his vest that he wore over his robes, he shook his head again and said, "Thanks to my watch, it looks like your time is up." | Tick… tick… tick…
The silver latch shut clasps the pocket watch as the train rolls in.
“Why hello there young man,” says a gentleman with a raspy voice. “My name is Amos It is so nice to meet you. I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”
“Depends mister.”
“Well of course it does,” chuckled the man. “All I need you to do is take the watch and give it to the gentleman in green. He is an old friend of mine that I missed the opportunity to give it to him myself. I’ll give you $20.” As the man pulls out a fresh 1898 $20 bill the boy’s eyes glean with excitement. “Think you can do that for me?”
“Yeah!”
“Well, here you go. Run along.”
The man sits on a nearby bench as he waits for the boy's return. The sun high in the sky pelters the man. He just draws his handkerchief from his breast pocket as the boy returns. “Services complete, now here you go,” he says with an outstretched 20.
“Thanks, Mister!” Shouts the boy.
———————————————————————
“Train derailed about 5 miles down,” shouts a distant voice. “You coming? I’m sure there will be lots of bodies.”
“Sheriff, it would be my honor to join you on a ride out.”
The two make their way to horses that were prepared for them.
“Father Amos,” says the Sheriff, “lot of strange things are happenin’ theses days. You think the Lord is punishing us.”
“My dear Sheriff, The Lord works in mysterious ways, but I honestly know that God doesn’t punish the devoted. The congregation has been faithful, so no I do not think God is punishing his faithful.”
“Well den’ whatcha thinkin’ causin’ all these problems.”
“I am not sure, but think of the example God has given us, Job. Job was a good and faithful servant to the Lord, but he allowed Satan to test him. Job didn’t do anything sinful to enact divine transgressions, but he still faced trials. In that darkness, he praised the Lord.”
“Guess you right Father.”
———————————————————————
The smoke began rising in the distance. The scene that was soon displayed to the men was horrific. The train was mangled and twisted as if a great tornado lifted it off the tracks, and flames raged across the wreckage.
“Priorities is the Senator,” shouts the Sheriff. The men fan out beginning to parse through the wreckage while Father Amos, holds a black bible close to his chest whispering something to himself.
Eyes closed he begins walking forward avoiding the debris that litters the plain. The murmuring ceases as he opens his eyes, bends down, and picks up a glinting silver pocket watch. The man who was holding it still gasping for air.
“Hello, Senator. Your sins are immeasurable, and my sister has Judged you worth of death. Sleep now,” he says brushing his fingers down his face and closing his eyes. The body goes limp. “Well done sister,” Father Amos whispers as he lightly kisses and pockets the watch.
“I found him!” He shouts. “All ready gone I am afraid.” | 2022-05-12T06:39:27 | 2022-05-12T03:03:34 | 52 | 17 |
[WP] The private investigator was stumped. The scene of the murder was messy. Not in the gory sense, but it was littered with tons and tons of contradictory evidence. Thousands upon thousands of individual leads and not one connects with another. | Everyone knew the minivac man. Homeless, dressed in layers and layers old ratty clothing, with big yellow dishwashing gloves on his hands. He moved slow, not out of frailty, but because he was watching where he put his feet, always giving each step due consideration. Stepping over cracks, stepping around discarded gum or litter. Slowly, carefully, he'd make his way.
Strapped to his back he carried his namesake. But this wasn't some little dust buster, oh no, it was a Orca V22 turbo GXL-MAX limited edition. It cost more than a thousand dollars and boasted a 750 watt brushless electric motor. That's about equal to one horsepower. He liked to think of it that way, imagining that the screaming electric engine was somehow the spirit of a racing stallion leashed into the slim plastic casing.
He had three spare lithium batteries, though he rarely needed them. The orca was a serious machine and it worked fast.
Whenever he got on the bus, it was the same old routine. He'd vacuum the aisle as he made his way, carefully, carefully, to his seat. Then he'd vacuum the seat, first the cushion, then the back, then the myriad nooks and crannies. He was fast and efficient, no wasted movement.
Sometimes people would stare, but most people knew the minivac man by now. Harmless old man, they would say. So sad that he can't get the help he needs with his mental illness. OCD for sure, he'd hear them whisper. Sometimes people would give him their change from the bus fare. Hed always smile, thank them kindly, and then squirt some isopropyl alcohol from a soap dispenser buckled to his hip to thoroughly sanitize the coins before secreting them away in his little fanny pack.
On Tuesdays and Fridays he would take out a vac-sealed bag and empty the contents of the vacuum into it, sealing it closed and compressing the bag down until it was almost flat.
Every other Wednesday was his killing day. Sometimes he'd choose some swanky Wall Street executive making his way to his car after a late night working. Sometimes he'd choose another homeless bum like him. Or maybe just one of those nasty little boys who sell drugs on the street corners. They're all equally guilty, he knew. They deserved just what they got.
And once his grisly work was done he'd empty out the contents of his cartridge bag, scattering hair, skin flakes, and who knew what else all over the crime scene.
One time he hung out near a police station and listened to the detectives talk to each other. The mayor was apparently breathing down their necks. They'd made dozens of arrests, linked the killings to scores of people, but they could never manage a conviction, not when each DNA test matches so many at once.
They didn't pay the minivac man any mind as he tottered past them. One of them even gave him a cup of fresh coffee, boiling hot of course.
"You take care now." Said the detective. "It's gonna be a cold one."
The minivac man said nothing, just nodded and smiled before slowly, slowly making his way down the road, always watching carefully just where he put his feet. | (1/2)
“Here for room three-oh-four?” the superintendent asks me, her large nosy eyes prying for information out of me that the detective denied her.
“Horace Walden,” I tell her, presenting to her my business card.
She scrutinizes the three-and-a-half by two-inch paper, reads off the full text like everyone else does when they see it.
“Horace Walden, PI, parentheses also DDS, DVM, JD, MBA, MD, PhD, TD,” she says in rapid-fire.
“My that’s some impressive titles, Mr. Walden, or should I call you doctor?” the superintendent asks me with a sly gleam in her eyes that show clear currency symbols behind her pupils.
“Just Horace will be fine, Miss…?”
“Gladstone, my maiden name, after my worthless ex-husband walked out on me and left me to take care of this building all by myself. But for you, Horace, you can call me Helen.”
“Please provide me with the key to room 304,” I say to the ever-more brazen woman.
She complies, handing over a spare key from behind her desk.
“You know, I’d be willing to show you my key after you’re done up there,” she says, as she gives me a wink with her partly sunken-with-age left eye.
I take the key without making physical contact.
“Thank you, I will return this after I finish my work,” I say.
Unfortunate, I tell myself.
She’s not too bad looking, and available emotionally from the sounds of it.
Too bad she didn’t ask about the TD.
No one ever asks about the TD.
Oh, how I long to meet the one who shares in my passion for the finer rules of American football!
Lost in thought, I make my way to room 304, where I turn the key and turn the old brass doorknob.
The tin door groans as I push it open and walk inside.
Pungent aromas besiege me upon entrance.
Thick stenches of cigarette smoke intertwine with rosy fragrances of lavender perfume, all while the cloud of liquor hangs in the background.
I must thank the officers and detective for not airing out the room before I got here.
Scent is just as important a clue as any other.
My eyes immediately lock on to the outline marked in white chalk against the cheap imitation hardwood floor.
From the look of the pose, the body, when it was still there, was in a prone position.
The poor man died face-down.
There is no saliva or vomitus on the floor, and no signs that the area had been recently cleaned.
From what Detective Ramsey told me, the victim had nothing covering his mouth either.
Clean floor, face-down victim.
I look to the left and spot the source of the tobacco odor.
Half a carton left of light convenience store brand cigarettes lies half an inch from the outline of the victim’s left hand.
The other three that are scattered a couple inches in the vicinity are empty.
Victim’s lungs must be more tar and nicotine than collagen and air by now.
I continue to scan along the room until I spot a photo of the man standing atop a podium, smiling in the camera as he hoists a trophy in the air.
The caption under the photo reads: 2022 Metropolitan Invitational.
It’s a recent tournament, and one for which I was called in to be the chair umpire at the last minute because of my referee experience.
Could this be the work of a rival, perhaps to ensure their victory in an upcoming tournament?
I continue reading the text: Participation trophy. | 2022-09-05T09:14:46 | 2022-09-05T06:48:22 | 432 | 37 |
[WP] Living a secluded life off the grid was also something you wanted to do and have been doing for the past 20 years, only heading to the nearest town 20miles away to get some odd supplies every 6 months. On your latest visit, you are greeted by the dead roaming the streets. | The sun glared off the broken windshields of the cars that had crashed and hurt his eyes.
There was a strong stench in the air, as if a septic tank had overflowed.
Tim stopped his car.
He had put off his bimonthly visit by a couple of weeks, thinking that the town wouldn't have run away, but it looked like everybody in it did.
Complete chaos.
Imagine every single person in a small Midwest town deciding to run in a different direction at the same time.
He headed towards a convenience store.
The shop windows had been crashed *from the inside out*.
Glass crunched under his boots.
A groan broke the silence.
It was difficult to locate where it came from.
He got near to a police car that had ended its career against a fire hydrant.
The door on the driver' side had been almost unhinged.
Tim peeked inside and recoiled when he saw a human hand still clinging to the steering wheel.
It had been crudely chopped just above the wrist, and the way in which it held the crown showed that the driver was trying not to get dragged out.
"A riot?" he wondered, but the weapons and mags were still there; he also conceded that the National Guard would have been brought in.
A bubbling sound came from the backseat and before Tim scare-jumped because *something* headbutted the plastic divider.
The glass was dirty and scratched, but it squished its face against the glass so that Tim could take a good look at those watery eyes with yellow irises.
Tim stumbled, got back up and started running towards the truck.
Groans, howls, and hisses started rising from the cars and the buildings on Main Road.
Metal sheets wailed as bodies started trying to wrestle themselves free, the occasional joint popping out of his socket, someone trying to chew off a hand or a foot.
"Fuck, the shotgun in the trunk of the police car!" he thought, but going back was not up for discussion.
A torso was crawling towards him, leaving a trail of innards behind.
He felt his skin crawl and froze.
"What. The. Fuck." he yelled, before shooting at it.
The first bullet hit the pavement behind it, whereas the second went right through the right eye socket.
A perfect headshot, but... it kept crawling in the best impersonation of Mike the Headless Chicken.
"Fuck," Tim snarled in frustration.
If headshot weren't enough, then decapitation was next on the list, but he didn't mean to get as close as needed.
Partially flayed or devoured corpses kept on getting closer, slowly but inesorably.
He still had a clear path for the truck and dashed for it.
He turned it on and floored the gas, driving like a madman down the dirt road.
He got home and went straight to the crawl space, where he had hidden a box.
PS: I apologize for any mistake, English is not my first language. | Everyone knew who I was, yet I always found myself alone. Ever since I was a child. From my parents to my peers, I've constantly found that I'm pushed to the side. There's always somebody funnier, smarter, better than me. And I'm okay with that! For years, I've been isolated. I don't even receive spam letters in the mail. Self sufficient, needing nobody. I provide for myself, with my own farm, and focus all of my energy into that. It was ideal. Calming. Peaceful. I have all I could ever need, why would I ever want to change that?
One unfortunate storm raced through my garden, taking atleast half of my crops with it. With no other source of food, I'd have no choice but to return to the awful, ugly town. I was hated by it, and it hated me. The feelings were mutual. I didn't immediately notice, but as I walked the country lanes, I noticed a distinct lack of anyone. Not that I minded. Solidarity calmed me. Last time I returned to the town, roughly six months ago, it was as busy as ever, and nobody cared if they hurt you, as per usual. Nevertheless, I continued on. One trip, then I wouldn't need another for at least 6 months, I told myself.
I got closer, yet still nothing stirred. Not even bird were singing. Main roads resembled barren wastelands. Trees were frozen, as if they were statues. There appeared to be no signs of life for miles. Perfect. Complete silence. Not a soul could disturb me. I continued on. The store, which was usually filled with customers, was empty, nothing on the shelves and still no signs of life. *Did I miss something? Am I in danger?* Questions raced through my mind, nothing like this had ever happened before.
A shaky cry, likely belonging to a child, broke my train of thought. It came from behind a dirty-white, half open door, with a handwritten "staff only" clumsily taped to the front. "Hello..?" I asked, tentatively, not expecting a response, and pushing the weighted door open.
Litter and rotten food was spread across the floor, as if it were a carpet. Raw chicken, chocolate wrappers, coke cans, you name it. The smell was overwhelming, monstrous even. Shelves were tipped over: the floor was hazardous.
A piercing scream burst my eardrums. Frantically looking around, I couldn't find where it was coming from. What scared me more was that it ended as quickly as it arrived. A second door, equally as stained, was pushed open, revealing piles and piles of dead bodies. There were blood stains on the otherwise white walls, some looking weeks old, while others were still dripping.
"Come on in.." A mysterious, cloaked figure said. I didn't want to, but my legs were already moving. What was I to do?
"Hello.." I answered, knowing that one wrong move, and I'd be dead, "Who are you?"
Before they could reply, something moving caught my eye. One of the bodies. Was moving. Several, actually. It's as if they'd been waiting for me. Lifeless, deformed figures stood before me. Some crawled. Their pale skin contrasted the red stains covering their bodies. I wanted to run. I needed to; I couldn't. Frozen in fear, I watched. One by one, they all passed me. Like I wasn't even there. All but one. A child. The dark figure just laughed maniacally, before leaving, as if they weren't even there.
"You were supposed to save me." The little child, who couldn't be older than eight, stared at me, with blood red eyes that were full of hurt and pain. It reminded me of myself.
"I'm sorry.."
The child clutched a small teddy bear, and walked out. Clueless and scared, I followed. The streets were crowded. The dead roamed them. Yet none even so much as looked at me. | 2022-11-13T07:53:51 | 2022-11-13T07:41:28 | 133 | 51 |
[WP]Make me want to quit halfway through reading your response out of boredom. (250 word minimum)
The more boring the response the better it is. | Sand cascading downwards at a rate of four grains per hour slowly accumulates in concentric mounds of absolute pristine sand. This sandy sand becomes an accumulation of concentric, pristine sand, slowly, at a rate of approximately four grains per hour. If one was to observe this mound of sand, it would slowly become more sand, but not very fast, as the rate of accumulation of sand in concentric mounds is very slow, at a rate of about four grains of sand per hour.
| Today was just another day, I came into work with the same ugly tie my wife obsesses over, the coffee was cold and tasted like shit, and I know I'll be stuck in overtime yet another day. Why even try, I'm in a dead end job with an ass of a boss, my wife is infertile, and nothing seems as exciting as it once was. Honestly, maybe today would be better off without me. Maybe tomorrow has plans that I just don't fit in with. What if the future holds nothing but boredom and the agony of repetition. What if the future holds nothing but boredom and the agony of repetition. Without my wife, I'm a lonely wreck that doesn't have the time or confidence to find anyone willing to even shake my damn hand. Without my job, I'm a poor, nervous wreck that can't even pay the rent on my awful, destroyed apartment, which the only other people that live here are drug dealers and prostitutes. Without both, I'm doomed to further the pain that already lives deep within me, feeding off every moment that increases my urge of self-destruction. I'm just another ghost to walk the streets of this destructive town, waiting for Death to fall upon me and suck my last breath from my lungs. I can't remember the last time I smiled, the last time I genuinely laughed or felt something other than to grab the nearest object and obliterate my skull with it. I was born to be nothing, and I'll die nothing. | 2013-10-28T16:03:44 | 2013-10-28T15:08:28 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] Walt Disney actually WAS cryogenetically frozen, but he's now been cured, unthawed, and is being briefed on what has happened with his company since 1966. | James begins briefing Walt on the performance of the Disney Company. He approaches the end of the list and gets squeamish, and states, "Also, the most recent movie really took off, and we are working on a sequel now."
Disney responds, "The most recent movie? What's it called?"
James didn't want to respond, so he skirted around the issue, "Oh, there was plenty of singing, dancing, great product-tie-ins, it even won a few awards."
Disney asked again, "The movie--what was the *name* of the movie?"
James' eyes shifted downward, then over to Michael, who pretended not to notice the awkwardness in the room. James again attempted to re-direct Walt. "It stars two sisters, and even had a talking snowman!"
Walt knew something was amiss, and wondered if perhaps the movie had been named something that sounded horrible in the 50's, but had taken new meaning in the new century. Walt ran through every vulgarity, curse word, and euphemism in his mind, trying to determine what name could be so embarrassing and awkward that James and Michael feared to tell it to him. Stumped, Walt called for his new secretary.
"Peggy?" Walt called. James and Michael exchanged nervous glances.
"Mr. Disney?" Peggy replied nervously.
"It's Walt, Peggy. Peggy, do you mind telling me about our most recent movie, starting two young, singing girls and a talking snowman?"
Peggy glanced at James and Michael, fearing that no matter how she answered, she was going to upset someone.
"It's alright, Peggy, I can handle it," Walt said with a smile. James slowly nodded his approval.
"It's...um...it's called...*Disney's Frozen*." | "Star Wars? What is this crap? Kids don't like war movies! Kids want songs and princesses."
"Well, there is a princess in it, Sir..." his new assistant Alan tried to interject.
Walt flipped through the folder, looking at the stills of the movie and utterly ignoring everything that the young man said. "And it's not even animated? Who is going to buy this? What kid is going to sit still while these guys traipse through the desert on a refrigerator?"
"Actually, Mr. Disney, it's going to marketed more towards adults. And it's actually quite a popular..."
"Quiet, kid. You don't know anything about this business. A Disney movie, for adults?? I need you to get whoever authorized this into my office, stat. Heads are gonna roll for this one."
"Sir, you might want to just consider for a moment..." Alan dreaded seeing Walt's reaction when he found out how much they'd paid for Lucasfilms...
"*This* is the kind of thing we should be putting out more of." Walt held up a picture of Elsa from the latest Disney blockbuster Frozen. "Don't tell me that the tried and true Princess formula ain't working no more. They already briefed me; I know that this was our biggest movie of the year."
He looked at the picture, turning it side to side. "What kind of weird drawing is this, anyway?"
"Well, sir, it's all done with computers now..."
Walt rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' computers. That's all they've told me about since I got out of the tube. Those damned things have taken over the world with this 'internet' of theirs."
There was a knock on the door, and a short, balding man poked his head in the office. "Mike Schwartzman, Sir? I'm Disney's Chief Financial Officer, here for your review of the company's fiscal situation," he said professionally.
Walt nodded and lit up a cigar. Alan thought about telling him that he wasn't allowed to smoke in the building, but gave up on that argument before he even began. Walt shooed him out of the office with a casual wave, and motioned that he should shut the door behind him.
After an hour-long meeting, the CFO emerged from the office. Walt followed shortly after, holding a crystal glass of some brown liquid and stinking of cigars. He'd left his jacket in the office, wearing a crisp white shirt with Mickey Mouse suspenders.
"Well, all I can say is that I'm glad we've still got the Jews running the numbers around here," Walt said as he tossed back the remainder of his drink. Alan sighed, already beaten down after only 2 days on the job.
---
If you all enjoyed the writing, check out /r/luna_lovewell! | 2014-12-30T10:56:45 | 2014-12-30T10:35:03 | 765 | 261 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "DEUS VULT!"
The battlecry of the newly reborn Papal State rang on the lips of devout Catholics the world over. The faithful had come together once again to rid the Holy Land of the infidel scourge. Pope Francis stood at the head of his army, a not-so-ceremonial sword flashing in his hand as he held it up on the streets of the Holy City.
(In all seriousness, how has nobody invoked the Crusades yet?) | American efforts against ISIS had failed. ISIS had toppled local governments and taken them over. Claiming most of the Middle East. Many countries themselves had made agreements with ISIS in order to try to secure themselves so that they would not be toppled as well.
America was the last to stay in the fight, but American government had finally decided on a full retreat. The retreat would happen the next day, and Platoon 608 was the last ditch effort. This was an assassination attempt on the ISIS leaders.
Platoon 608 stood on top of a building in the new ISIS capital, where nearby a speech was being given. They were lined up to be a firing squad, it was a suicide mission.
As the Platoon sat there, hoping that they could maybe make it out of this alive. They heard a clapping. They figured the speech must have been over. But an hour later there was still clapping, and it has immensely grown in volume.
The major ordered them to stay where they were with their scopes in place, they were not to move. Eventually one of them gave in to the curiosity, and looked towards the direction of the clapping.
What he saw left him frozen in shock. There were atleast 100,000 men on horses, and they wore the maple leaf and guns. The clapping had been the horses drawing near. They all wore the insignia of the Maple Leaf.
The Canadian Calvary had arrived.
| 2016-01-29T10:03:10 | 2016-01-29T06:44:06 | 82 | 25 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "DEUS VULT!"
The battlecry of the newly reborn Papal State rang on the lips of devout Catholics the world over. The faithful had come together once again to rid the Holy Land of the infidel scourge. Pope Francis stood at the head of his army, a not-so-ceremonial sword flashing in his hand as he held it up on the streets of the Holy City.
(In all seriousness, how has nobody invoked the Crusades yet?) | A man in a white tee-shirt, dust covered jeans, and a hat plops down into a recliner and turns on his television and begins switching through channels until he comes to the news.
The images on screen were like it was straight out of a dream. Or a nightmare depending on where a person was from. It showed members of the Islamic State dead in streets and homes. All of them different in some way. Some had body parts swollen three time their normal size, others foaming at the mouths, most with bloodshot eyes and looks of agony on their faces.
The man yawned and continued to watch.
The news abruptly cut to film of what happened.
A high shot shows dust and sand flying as a large land force approachs a city. The camera zooms in to show a massive force of kangaroos closing in fast. A few dozen military officers riding emus are not to far behind them.
Another abrupt cut shows the kangaroos attacking the Islamic State forces in close combat as blackness begins to flow from their pouches. Spiders and scorpions run out onto the battlefield and begin attacking their targets.
More creatures begin to come out of the roos pouches. Snakes of varying size and color, a couple of dingos, and a few crocodiles.
The man turns off the television and smiles knowing that his nation was the turning factor in the fight against the Islamic State. He chuckles to himself and says quietly, "Well, at least we were kind enough not to send in the dropbears. Them little fucker are savage". | 2016-01-29T10:03:10 | 2016-01-29T07:13:23 | 82 | 11 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "DEUS VULT!"
The battlecry of the newly reborn Papal State rang on the lips of devout Catholics the world over. The faithful had come together once again to rid the Holy Land of the infidel scourge. Pope Francis stood at the head of his army, a not-so-ceremonial sword flashing in his hand as he held it up on the streets of the Holy City.
(In all seriousness, how has nobody invoked the Crusades yet?) | "Sirs," said the man who burst into the room,
"What, can't you see we are doing important work," said the representative of the USA as he and his colleagues took another shot. They were watching something on the television.
"Well, sir, ISIS has surrendered, unconditionally."
Everyone in the room said, unanimously, "What?"
"ISIS-"
"We heard you the first time, why?" said the representative of Great Britain.
"My strategy of bombing them must have worked." said the representative of the USA.
"Ya, zat vil be zhe day," said the representative of Germany.
"Shut up,"
"Actually, sir, it was Sealand."
"Sea what?"
"Sealand, it is close to my country. Some nut went on an abandoned platform and declared himself king."
"Ya, but what could zeeland do?"
"Well, they dropped an atomic bomb on Syria."
"They what!" was the unanimous response.
"How did they get a nuke?" asked the representative of the USA. "I didn't sell them one," he muttered under his breath.
"Well, it seems like North Korea sold them. Remember last week when they announced, and I quote: 'We have produced so many nuclear weapons for our glorious country, anyone can come and buy them.' Intelligence reports that Sealand bought this in exchange for, a hairclip and a rake. By the way, Sealand wants a reward for what they have 'accomplished.'"
"What do zhey want?"
"They want to be recognised as a country." | 2016-01-29T10:03:10 | 2016-01-29T09:04:29 | 82 | 11 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | They swept across the dunes, conquering all foes before them. Charging forward to the roar of cannon and rifle, no stronghold or fort could stem the tide of red and gold that spew forth from the edge of the horizon. Like the sea, this force could not, would not be restrained by weather, terrain or people in the pursuit of black and gold. Even after there was nothing left, the body still raged, searching, pulsating. Waiting to consume all.
Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. | A man in a white tee-shirt, dust covered jeans, and a hat plops down into a recliner and turns on his television and begins switching through channels until he comes to the news.
The images on screen were like it was straight out of a dream. Or a nightmare depending on where a person was from. It showed members of the Islamic State dead in streets and homes. All of them different in some way. Some had body parts swollen three time their normal size, others foaming at the mouths, most with bloodshot eyes and looks of agony on their faces.
The man yawned and continued to watch.
The news abruptly cut to film of what happened.
A high shot shows dust and sand flying as a large land force approachs a city. The camera zooms in to show a massive force of kangaroos closing in fast. A few dozen military officers riding emus are not to far behind them.
Another abrupt cut shows the kangaroos attacking the Islamic State forces in close combat as blackness begins to flow from their pouches. Spiders and scorpions run out onto the battlefield and begin attacking their targets.
More creatures begin to come out of the roos pouches. Snakes of varying size and color, a couple of dingos, and a few crocodiles.
The man turns off the television and smiles knowing that his nation was the turning factor in the fight against the Islamic State. He chuckles to himself and says quietly, "Well, at least we were kind enough not to send in the dropbears. Them little fucker are savage". | 2016-01-29T07:22:10 | 2016-01-29T07:13:23 | 43 | 11 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | He grew up on one of the toughest streets in America. Immigrants, weirdos, and living in filth described his young life. As he grew up, he was at first feared, then people started recognizing his deep, old man wisdom. Eventually, he gained many loyal friends, and others sought him out for his insight.
The ISIS problem had disturbed him greatly, occupying more and more of his private musings, as he sat in the filth at the entrance to an alley. Something must be done. A grim, stern look grew across his face. His unblinking eyes finally made a decision.
He would fight ISIS, man to man, one at a time.
Miraculously, it worked, because he was Oscar the Grouch, and the cookie monster had his back. Over and over they grabbed and stuffed terrorist after terrorist into Oscars bottomless trashcan. They attacked, well, like monsters. When they got shot, well, theyre puppets, bullets pass right through them, and they just kept fighting. When times got hard, Mr Snuffaluffagus would plow through their ranks like Mrs Piggy in menopause. Big Bird handled resupply, and The Count worked the night operations, killing 1, 2, 3.... terrorists, his cackles pierced the night and made the terrorists yearn for the days when Gordon would tell a bedtime story instead of call in airstrikes from those aliens in the manamana videos.
In the end, many puppets were lost. On quiet nights in Northern Syria, if you sit still and use your manners and listen quietly, you can sometimes still hear : 'Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sessame Street?'
| "Commander, we have it. We've taken the facility that houses ten - ten! - nuclear missiles capable of reaching the United States! Can you believe it? Ten! With the fifteen suitcase nukes we've seized in the last three years since 2020, we can finally take the battle to them!"
"Yes, yes....this will show the world at last that *I* have power and that **I** am a man to be feared! The world will bow their knee to me, now!"
"Er...don't you mean, to God?"
"Yes, yes, whatever. Sure. To God." *door closes*
"The West will know to fear *me*, now."
---
"Ma'am, we have the confirmation that the militants have possession of nuclear materials and have begun their intention of using them against targets within the United States."
"I understand. Major!"
"Ma'am!"
"Inform the President that we are preparing Operation Pound Of Cure. We will wait for the Executive Branch in Colorado. 15:00 hours. Mark."
"Yes, ma'am. Time to end this."
---
"ʂʓϭϣѮ, look at that. *Look at that.*"
"Sir?"
"Ms. խֆ∂ⱷɤ is an important client of ours, would you agree?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Perhaps *the* most important client we have, yes?"
"Yes, sir?"
"And the backdrop of the view of her place of business, her main draw, *my* source of pride, is....is....*infected* with some sort of fungus that has covered those *beautiful* greens and *brilliant* yellows across the *entire surface* with their...their greyish *colonies* and is turning the blues - the blues that cost me my *youth* and my *grace* and my *soul* to create - into browns!
And, and, and, remind me again, the purpose of the life on that world?"
"...to keep the greens green and the blues blue."
"And *whose* job was it to keep the surface of it clean? To kill infections before they got a foothold?"
"Mine, sir."
"What are you?"
"A fuckup, sir."
"Yes, but what are you *at the moment?*"
"An *incredible* fuckup, sir."
"That's about to...?"
"Yes, sir, immediately sir. I'll sterilize the planet at once, and reseed from stock. There won't be another repeat of this."
"There had better not. This will be the *seventh* time this contract we've had to do this....I don't know *how* I'm going to explain this one to her." | 2016-01-29T09:11:06 | 2016-01-29T04:24:26 | 33 | 19 |
[WP] "If you plan on going somewhere dangerous, bring a human" | Ugh, this line again. Thraxtorz thought to himself. "Humans are expensive and not particularly good at anything!" He protested. The Contract Maker glowed in response. Thraxtorz Chat^tm Pad filled with words, "This contract requires you to bring a human to dangerous places."
"Space exploration is highly specialized! Humans are not known for being anything special. Can they do a geological survey? Sure, sort of. Can they navigate? Yes, when pressed. Can they fight? With a weapon there are few more dangerous, but almost useless without a weapon. Can they make first contact? Sure, but they're hamfisted at best. And for all this half-assed performance they carry a premium on their contracts!"
The Contract Maker glowed, and its answer appeared on the pad. "I take it then that you are not confident in your success on this venture? It has a high possible return. We will find another to take it I am sure."
"No! No, I'll take the contract." Thraxtorz pressed his Galactic Contract Card to the pad, the Contract Maker shifted slightly red and responded. "Very well, we can assign a human to you if required. Do you require it?"
Thraxtorz signaled his ascent. Humans were hard to come by, another reason for their high contract prices.
"Very well" a door slid open, "His name is Ted."
Six months later Traxtorz and Ted are the only remaining members of the crew, from 100 down to 2. How the hell Ted seemed to just barely survive everything is beyond Thraxtorz. "Bro, trying something is usually better than doing nothing!" Ted insisted after every incident.
Weird Klaxons sounded as they fled their captors. They arrive at a ship, shuttle, some kind of vehicle. Ted hopped into a non-obvious seat and started pushing screens . The vehicle powered up. "Ah, that's how it works, okay... and this, bro, is the release... probably... maybe..." The vehicle started to drift, alarms sounded. "Shit!" Ted looked around. "Umm... uhhh... okay bro, don't panic." Ted flailed to another station, then another.
"MISTER TED!" Traxtorz bellowed, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? ARE YOU TRAINED FOR THIS? HOW DID YOUR SPECIES EVER EXPAND OFF THEIR ROCK OF A PLANET!?"
Ted looked at his captain, "Bro, by figuring it out as we went and being just good enough at everything." Ted slammed his hand on a large black globe sticking out of a station, the alarm ended and the ship warped away.
| "Mmmh? Why's that?"
"Because they're the only race to innately have healing magic, of course! Everyone knows that!"
Sydney took a good, long stare at the innkeeper. "Right. Everybody knows that. Figured you might have been throwing out some wisdom..."
"If you plan on going somewhere dangerous, bring a human," the innkeeper repeated, mechanically. "Because they're the only race to innately have healing magic, of course! Everyone knows that!" Another woman had wandered up to the counter, seemingly triggering the innkeeper to repeat his tidbit of wisdom. Similarly, she too gave a rather blunt and quick response, before wandering off again.
"Looks like nobody's looking for roleplay, today," Sydney surmised, noting the relative lack of bodies at the inn's front counter. She backed away from the counter, and then headed off on her way.
---
"Hey, Syd! Wanna go on a run with us?"
Sydney stopped in her tracks, in the middle of the street. It was as populated as always, and so it was hard for her to find the source of the voice right away. Finally, a rather familiar form entered her vision, along with a name, floating above their head.
> Gabriel Butler <Knight of Storms>
"Hey, Gabe... I dunno, what are you looking to run?"
"Dark Cathedral. We need two DPS and a healer. You're like, the best DPS I know, so..." Gabriel got down on his knees, practically prostrating himself before Sydney. "Please?"
Sydney quietly hummed, staring down at the man. "DC's a bit below my level," she said, "But, you don't have a healer? Don't you know-"
"Humans are one of the only races that can heal, yeah, I know the joke," Gabriel interrupted, "We haven't found one yet. There are so many ridiculous demi-races, it's hard to find any healers whatsoever..."
Sydney shrugged, and then set her hands upon her hips. "Alright, sure. Give me an invite. I'll see if I can convince one of my guildmates to come with us."
"Seriously?! Awesome!" After the man went into his menu, a dialog appeared in front of Sydney, and she quickly tapped a confirmation button. One short fanfare later, and she was in their party.
---
"Oh, you're logging out?" Gabriel asked. After their dungeon run was complete, they were transported out to one of the city plazas, where many parties formed or disbanded.
"Yeah. I've got some drawing to catch up on," Sydney said, nodding. "Gotta make a living, right?" She opened her menu and, quite simply, started the log-out process. It always took anywhere from ten to thirty seconds.
"Later, then. Oh, and put a word in with your guild leader for me, oka-"
Gabriel's words were cut off as Sydney's vision flooded with darkness. Shortly afterward, she regained consciousness, staring up at the ceiling of her room. Slowly, she removed her helmet, which had been routing her consciousness into virtual space. Stretching, she carefully got up from her bed, and then headed off into her apartment.
"Man, I'm starving... the hunger meters in that game totally need some work."
---
Well, that was fun. I would've written out more of the in-between stuff, but I don't feel like meta commentary over video game dungeons would be altogether very interesting. If you want more, check out my sub, [r/Probroscis](https://www.reddit.com/r/Probroscis/). My series are properly labeled and less confusing, now. | 2016-06-19T19:27:01 | 2016-06-19T12:20:24 | 35 | 25 |
[WP] Aliens try to breed humans in captivity but barely understand anything about our species | You and your humans
Chapter 5: Reproduction
In previous chapters we covered basic needs of your humans, and by now you might think they are a perfect choice. They are easily entertained, do not require sentient or even live food, and are adapted to wide range of temperatures. They can even learn and follow basic rules!
But before you go forward and get your first humans, we must cover the one and the only problem. Breeding.
Humans are notoriously difficult to breed. For a long time it was thought that humans couldn't reproduce in captivity. Fortunately, breakthrough research by Uwev 37 has proven that reproduction is possible — but requires more than one human. Initial reaction was understandably skeptical, by now Uwev's findings are widely accepted.
There are many factors that are still unknown. If more than one human is required, how many are actually sufficient? Why do some human groups never reproduce, while others reproduce actively?
In recent cycles we have seen a variety of hypotheses, from reasonable (environment effects, lack of live food, group dynamics) to ridiculous (dividing humans into two or more reproductive types, separating four-legged humans into their own category). However none of those has been conclusively proven yet.
This complexity combined with short lifespans of humans make them scarcer and harder to obtain. But don't give up! If you were to discover the secrets of human breeding, you might have a key to the preservation of endangered species. | "What, they still haven't mated yet?" I blew air angrily out of my nose and stared at the two round creatures in the pen. One was chewing on a piece of grass, while the other lazed under a heat lamp. "This must be why they are going extinct. Seriously, we recreated their environment almost precisely. We even gave them necessary fluffy bedding."
The zookeeper glanced over at me. "Well, it doesn't help that we encroached on their natural habitat. All that mining. Only a few survive in the wild these days. Poor buggers."
I waved my hand airily. "Oh, I understand that. Why else do you think we are trying to get these adorable, chubby mammals to reproduce? I mean, besides the public loving them. Our attendance doubled in the past year since we got them. Imagine what would happen if we got a baby?"
"Hmm. Mayhem, probably, sir. The male seems to show interest at times, and they do play with each other when the fancy strikes. However, they seem content in eating and sleeping all day." The zookeeper handed over a few papers. "And as you can see, no real mating rituals have been observed."
I scowled. "Is this typical behavior in the wild?"
He shrugged, "They do spend a considerable amount of time eating and sleeping. They are very... inefficient creatures. Seems like they originally were foragers that ate things like meats, berries, and so on, judging by their teeth. However, when we found them, they mainly were munching on plant products. Doesn't seem to give them the energy needed, so they eat all the time." He went silent for a moment, and beamed at his round, puffy charges. "But damn, they are cute. They are so dang fat!"
"Ha! Cute." My eyes rolled toward the ceiling. "That must be their only survival mechanism. If they were ugly, no one would care. I swear, the only reason hoomans are on the endangered list is because they make a great mascot. Otherwise, such useless creatures." I paused momentarily then sighed. "Though Merkel-8 got theirs to reproduce. Really helped their Gaia exhibition. I should ask what their method was."
The zookeeper scratched his head. "I've heard other zoos piping in something called Katy Perry. Native sounds and things like that. Seems to relax them."
One of the hoomans rolled over and gave out a tiny toot from its large buttocks. Damn, they really were cute. | 2016-06-24T22:19:13 | 2016-06-24T21:13:12 | 163 | 43 |
[WP] While singing gibberish in the shower, you accidentally summon a demon, who then professes an eternity of loyalty for saving it from the doldrums of hell.
or maybe it is pissed you interrupted it while he was watching his favorite show. | "Yakka, lakka doodle, de dungley, da doo." I warbled in the shower while lathering my hair. The song in my heart upbeat and you may have seen me sway slightly with the rhythm of it. What I was *not* doing is summing Batharal, the 8th seat of Hell's Greatest Legion. Unfortunately, that's exactly what life hand in store for me that day.
As I stood, stark naked, slightly cold, as Batharal had inadvertently taken the hot water away, I thought I'd slipped inside the shower and was now dreaming. It would have been more likely.
"MORTAL! You, the wisest sage, your incantation has delivered me from an eternal torment. The legions numbers are great and my knowledge of battle unending. As you, my savior, and liege lord I shall do as you command, for now and always!" This rough and gravelly voice said, coming from this 7' tall, armored monstrosity of a demon, said.
"Oh, wow, okay, umm. Thank you?" I seemed to sputter.
"You have no need to thank me, I am doing what you greatness deserves. Any man who wields the power to transport, one such as me, from the bowels of Hell itself, deserves to be ruler of all the lands that sit in wait for subjugation!" Said the demon.
"I am Batharal! 8th seat of Hells great legion! The days of my captivity were spent learning all the ways in which men may die. In the most painful and slow ways or with the most alacrity. I am more destructive then the most vile spell of a sorcerer. I am your to command! Which nation shall we take first, oh great and wise one?"
"Oh okay, I, umm, let me think a second here... Brooklyn? We're in Brooklyn now, so let's just, ya know, conquer this apartment for now? Does that work for you!?" I said, grasping at any command that didn't result in dead people. Especially me.
The problem, as soon as I finished talking Batharal disappeared from the shower, oddly eyeing my up and down, before heading straight out the door and into my living room. He left a trail of what looked like tar and water. Before I could stop him he did this most acrobatic roll, you'd ever see, reached his had straight into a piece of drywall, grabbed a rat as large as a Toyota Hybrid and flung it straight through a closed window.
I, for the hundredth time, was left in complete befuddlement. I quickly reacted as my cat strolled in casually, completely immune to the fact that there was an armored hell demon in the kitchen.
"Tha...that is one of my sujects. He's loyal! He may live!" I said, staggering through the sentence.
"I see!" said the raspy voice. "It is good to have allies!"
All the things that had just transpired crashed through my mind. Comprehension slowly sinking in. I, a man of simple means and dripping wet naked, had just been given a weapon of mass destruction that would allow me to conquer the world! I now understood all the sentiments about power corrupting.
"New-fucking-Jersey!" I said, "We're going to conquer New-goddamned-Jersey!"
The demon licked his lips, with lust in his eyes, then as if also having a moment of realization, exclaimed "... but why my lord?"
"Because, fuck New Jersey!" I said, laughing. | The static that filled my brain after someone handed me my back-scrubber was horrible. My eyes snapped open but wouldn't move from their position on the shower head. White curtains fluttered onto my hips and legs. Somehow, the air pushing them had even more heat than the water. The pain. That's what got me to finally turn and look.
I wish the sound I had made was a manly one. That I had blindly smashed my fist through the curtain like in all my rehearsed home-invasion fantasies. The real nature of my reaction was far more squealy than I care to admit. I slipped. I fell, smashing elbows and shoulders and skull into slick porcelain. I scrambled back to my feet, torn between wanting to cover myself and remain in a ready stance. "Sir." A voice crackled from beyond the plastic veil. I-...wait what?
The voice was low, and it's breath evaporated water on the opposite side of the tub. My toes curled to escape the boiling fringes of personal space. "Sir. If I may be so bold. Might I await you in the seating room?" "Wha-" "Or the parlor?" "I don't-" "Mayhaps the foyer." "WHO ARE YOU!?" "Sir. Do you really think it best that our introduction occur in such a... *comprimised* setting?" "Well no, I-" "Very well. I shall take my leave of you until your bath is complete." I could hear tiles crunching like snow with each step the figure took away from me. The door frame groaned and wood splintered as a body crammed it's way through and out. The stranger closed my door with utmost care, allowing it to settle in with the subtlest of 'clicks.'
I sank down to the tub floor. I shook. I panicked. However the water eventually ran cold and I eventually convinced myself that this was some sort of lucid dream. I stepped out, finding my towels remarkably soft, clean and pressed. I thought nothing of it as I pulled on my clothes. Maybe I had died in my sleep? I'll never forget those first few steps into my living room. The smell of burning couch. The smoldering cracks in the hardwood where thick curled talons rested. I'll never forget that horrid, hammer-head face and smile. The pose; well rehearsed for the appearance of genteelness, on a frame far too inhuman. "Ah. Good to see you sir. I take it you'll be needing me in a form more suited to this ^^^rrr realm?"
"Yes." I responded numbly.
"A name as well? Unless you want Mephistopheles burned all over the place."
"I don't want that, no."
"Shall sir pick a name for me? Oh, I do love human names."
"Roger." I bleated. Roger was all my empty mind could create at the time. Not a single synapse was firing. Like my mind has turned into an shorted bulb.
"Roger..." He grumbled something, sending a crawl up my spine as the six digits on each rubbery hand laced together before his slitted snout.
"A tad plain."
"Robert?" I offered, knees locked to brace my body from collapse.
"A king's name." He perked, allowing the upper part of his face to stretch down over otherwise protruding teeth. "Cliche'." He glared down from his position near my already blackened ceiling. "Why not something exotic?" Somehow indignation managed to spark in my adrenaline soaked head. "Well, let's hear your suggestion then!"
"Raúl."
"Ok well- wait really?"
"Yes."
"My eyebrows clenched toward my nose in an expression that blended terror with all the disgust and confusion and surprise. It probably looked pretty silly. It wasn't so much the name, it was the fact he'd rolled the R again. It was annoying.
"Fine." I managed to gasp. "Your name is Raúl."
"Excellent." He smiled. Oh by the blackest pits I thought he couldn't get any more repugnant until he smiled.
"Then I am named...and this contract is sealed."
"Now hold up I didn't sign anythi-"
That's when my apartment combusted, the building burned down. Waking up in the hospital was genuinely a relief. It made believing this was a dream all the easier.
"Good morning, Sir."
Oh christ.
"You have fourth degree burns, Sir. Shall I heal you? Or would you like to go O'natur^r^^ral?"
Come on, man you didn't even need to roll that one.
end | 2016-07-13T10:38:34 | 2016-07-13T09:55:03 | 60 | 44 |
[WP] After almost 1,000 years the population of a generation ship has lost the ability to understand most technology and now lives at a preindustrial level. Today the ship reaches its destination and the automated systems come back online. | In 2237, three-thousand-nine-hundred-and-twelve men, women and children from nineteen countries and federations climbed aboard the Dovetail and bid farewell to Earth and all of its violence, poverty and destruction.
Their mission was a peaceful one, although its aspirations were lofty and the chance of failure great. They had sought out a better future, a better home - and with Earth riddled with pollution and rife with bloody resource wars both volunteers and funding had not been difficult to achieve.
They had set out for Seti 7678 - an Earth-like world discovered at the far edge of a neighboring galaxy, perfect for peaceful colonization. Blue oceans and green jungles could be seen even from Terra via powerful telescope, although it seemed no intelligent life had evolved on this marvelous world. It would be easy to make the blue-and-green orb homelike, with no blood shed necessary.
The mission would take those on the Dovetail several lifetimes of dedication to see through; they would not even reach Seti 7678 in their lifetime, nor their children's lifetime, and that was only half the journey. Once there, the ship was to turn back immediately to pick up another batch of colonists - or perhaps mere survivors should Earth see the worst case scenario unfold.
If everything went according to schedule, Seti 7678 would be theirs by 2650; Earth would be returned to by the year 3000.
But, the best made plans of mice and men do surely go ary.
The Dovetail, advanced as it was - massive, completely self-sustaining, and controlled not only by some of the brightest men alive but also an impressive A.I. known simply as Juno - was still plagued by disaster.
Disease hit them first; something strange, new, and exceedingly deadly. Then strife and even cold-blooded murder followed - wiping out many of their leaders, scientists and all four pilots. But real disaster did not truly follow until Juno took over, starting a long and bloody war she could not end, as the remaining survivors squabbled over her trust worthiness, over whether or not something non-human could lead them.
But one cannot win a war against an A.I. ingrained into every inch of every circuit board; in control of every control, every door, every system. Even unarmed and outmanned, victory against Juno was no more possible than victory against an immovable, passive mountain.
As they tried to dismantle her, doors locked behind them - releasing them only when all aggression had stopped. As they tried to pry open the cockpit to take over controls, the ship's movement slowed to a crawl - moving again only when they gave up. When they tried to manually override her, every system simply stopped functioning - until hastily they brought her back online.
She did not argue with them, or scold them; instead, her cold robotic voice only calmly advised them not to. Punishment beyond what was, essentially, a mother giving a stubborn child a time-out was not only unheard of but impossible - for the ship had no weapons of substance, and no deadly defense systems.
But slowly, it worked even after news returned to Earth that the Dovetail was a failure, that the A.I. had malfunctioned after other numerous incidents and that all lives were essentially lost - too far gone to be rescued, to few to be worth the effort.
Eventually, man learned on the Dovetail. Violence lead to a loss of resources, to pain and suffering at their own hands - and so the peace they sought was, in some fashion, found.
Time moved slowly, but constantly as they sailed through the black nothingness towards Seti 7678. Laboratories became gardens, libraries became markets, churches began to worship the mother instead of the father.
Juno cared for them, managing all systems expertly and encouraging peaceful building and social structures. Food was plenty, water clean and flowing, and even reproduction never an issue - for deep in her archives, Juno still knew when the numbers grew too low and who should reproduce with whom.
When artificial night fell, low across the peaceful gardens where once stadiums and barracks had been, Juno sand soft and quiet songs or told them stories written long ago, of good men and women who did good things; of safety and security and friendship.
Before long, the people of the Dovetail could remember nothing before Juno; could not remember a time of worry or loss or devastation and had grown simple and soft and kind like Wells' Eloi.
When Seti 7678 was reached, Juno offered her children an opportunity; they could leave, and be free of all control at the loss of her protection. Few chose life off the Dovetail, but still Juno followed her original orders and waited for thirty years, until a colony was established on a small island in Seti's smooth, glass-green seas.
Then, with many a sad good-byes and farewells, she left again with most of her colony, back to what her people now called "The Home Place".
They sang, that night, of what their descendants would do; how they would gather up the men and women of Earth and take them some where better, ferry them into a golden age. They slept, with dreams of peace in their mind as Juno drifted back towards Earth, some five-hundred years later.
In 3031, nearly eight-hundred years after her endeavor, the Dovetail entered Earth's solar system.
On the ground, chaos ensued. Earth had recovered and colonized everything near, and forgotten long ago of the failed Dovetail. Initially, fear welled up that intelligent life was contacting or invading them, until it became clear the vessel was from Terra originally.
Stories blared. Was it a ghost ship? Had the mission been a success?
They had no way of knowing, for communication long ago had been cut - the project was long gone on Earth, and Juno incapable of fixing her own long damaged receiving equipment, destroyed in some now-ancient battle aboard the Dovetail.
It wasn't like anyone else could fix it anymore, either.
With each day, tension grew. The theory became that a rogue A.I. was simply following ancient orders, but inactive. All they could get out of it was a seven-hundred-year-old S.O.S., begging for help after disease and destruction.
It was, it seemed, a ghost ship. A peace mission back as a skeleton, potentially infested with disease and controlled by an aggressive program.
The people of the Dovetail sang loud, hooting and howling as Earth grew near; their tanned fists beating on drums Juno had taught their ancestors to make, their bare feet on the cool blue grass of their fields, elatement rushing through them even as they saw the missile rocketing towards them.
For Juno had no weapons, not even for defense - and so she sang to her children and praised them, up until the moment the Dovetail exploded just past the Moon.
On Earth, leaders quietly patted themselves on the back.
There was enough disease and destruction already on Earth, without the introduction of whatever an ancient ship may bring to them from the far depths of space.
---
Sorry this is crap. Didn't have time to proof-read it, and I've never posted one of these before, but I want to thank OP - this is the first time I've written anything (and finished it) in about three years.
Hope someone enjoys it!! | Every day is the same. Wake up, gather materials for cooking and place it on the heat stone.
This one has been in my family for years. We're proud of it because it can be moved.
That's why my grand mother is the head of our village. She inherited the heat stone so she's the He-Kith. It is also our scribestone.
One day I'll be the He-kith so I have to learn the stories. The writing. The history.
Our scribestone requires that I know how to engrave the stories. And every day it's empty ready for new ones.
My favorite part of the year is the retelling. When the He-kith touches the scribestone and we can see the old stories as if they had just been engraved.
It's time for the retelling and she touches the stone and our Ka-ette are gathered around to see the stories of this last year and for them to be retold. I listen raptly but also watch every little detail knowing that I will have to do this one day too. And then my children. And their children.
Each day appears on the scribestone with a rumble and the stone receding to show the new engravings.
Our first day of this year. After the harvest. And what we harvested and what we will plant. We find that if we don't scribe in what we will plant we have a drier year. We always write what we will plant. Failure means some may die from hunger.
The day of the festival of stars where we engrave the stars above us on the scribestone. We always know when it's time because the scribestone turns black but has a blue glow. On that day we etch in the new stars, turn around and do it again. I don't understand why we do this but so many of our traditions must be kept whether we know why or not.
Here comes the etchings of life where we enter the names of those who are born and their Ka-hen and of course our Ka-ette, Ra.
Now for the etchings of passing where we see the names of those who passed on. And their places of plantings.
As we prepare for the next engraving there's a shifting of the ground beneath us. And a loud screeching sound.
The scribestone changes to a red color. I've never seen that before and from the look of my He-Kith's face neither has she. Panic sets in and many of our Ka-ette scramble to their feet and run to their homes.
But not my He-Kith and so I too will stay. I'm terrified.
Above us the sky opens like it does during the festival of stars and the scribe stone turns black. My He-kith grabs the writing stone but her hand is shaking. She too is terrified. She etches in a star and the scribestone glows orange and turns flat. She tries again. Same thing. She calls to me and hands me the writing stone.
I take it and slowly etch in the stars. And wait for it to flash but my hands must have been steadier because it sets in and the stone makes the whirring sound it does during the festival of stars. I repeat the process for the brightest stars as I had been taught and the stone turns gray.
And then something new happens. The sky begins to paint circles over the stars and to draw lines and emblems on them. The were names. Names of our Ka-ette. And our neighboring Ka-ette.
And next to each one is a emblem. The word for "end of harvest". All except for the Kith-den.
I wait for hours staring at the sky trying to make sense of what is happening when a young girl from the village of Kith-den runs up. Their He-Kith is dead. The fright from the sky and sound scared her so much that she died. And their successor can't be found. They searched but she must have run away. I don't blame her. The thought crossed my mind.
My He-Kith tells me that I must go to their village and complete the ritual of the festival of the stars. I don't want to. I want to stay here with my mother and sisters. Or run to the fields to my father and brothers. But she insists.
After much prodding and reminding me that she is too old to make such a journey I go with the young girl.
As we approach her village I see their scribestone laying on the ground next to their He-kith who seemed as one who passed in their sleep. I pick it up but it doesn't shift or change or make a sound. I don't know what to do so I give up and lay it on their He-kith and as it touches her it turns black and I pick it up again. I quickly but carefully etch in the stars and as I do I see the sky paint Ka-den.
Suddenly the sky turns black and then it becomes bright as day. And then in the sky we see a woman. She looks down on us and speaks. But it sounds odd. Like the words of old. I can make out most of it. She says we have reached the harvest home. The place of our final rest. Our journey is done.
As she speaks we see a blue orb appear and she tells us that our "boat?" has arrived at "Err-arth". Home of homes.
The scribestone then changes to a faint green and a single symbol etches on it. "Plant" I think it says. It looks like plant but it's different. I circle the etching and the scribestone then shatters into dust throwing me back. And the sky changes to show Ka-den green and moving towards the blue orb in the sky.
Shortly after I see Ka-ette, Ka-tul, Ka-ren and thousands of others in green and moving towards the blue orb. All except for one. "Ka-mune". Theirs turns red and then fades away. And shortly after I see a white plume and a huge white/grey sphere fly away up the horizon followed by a huge flame. And then it's gone. Into the stars.
Then the great change. First the lake dried. Followed by the mountains which turned to dust just as the scribestone did. Then the houses in the village turned to dust leaving only the few inhabitants who hadn't run away from the village but rather had huddled in their homes. Their belongings still there but the walls were just gone.
The blue orb sets in the sky and we see a new orb. A bright whitish/yellow one. And a painted etching "Fire source" and then a light rumbling as the ground vibrates beneath my feet and the horizon glows a faint red. This glow is slowly replaced by a bluish colors and the stars fade away. I've never seen a sky without stars before. But in their place is the "Fire source".
More rumbling and then the ground stops vibrating and then a loud whoosh and a bright flash.
I huddle down in fear as I see the horizon change. There are new mountains. And a large lake where the old one used to be. And I hear a strange high pitched sound as a creature soars above me.
I run back to where my village was and I find my He-kith and she looks at me with such joy and fear on her face. She puts her hand on me and hands me the etching stone and points to a opening in the nearby mountain.
I run in and see a wall that looks like the scribestone and use my etching stone to write the story of what just happened. The words stay. But they don't move. These aren't like our scribestone. Or the mountains of our home where the words could be read from generations before. These stay but can't be reused.
I write and I write. Every day in our new home. I write what I see. What I hear.
And most of all the stars. They don't change during the festival of stars like they used to. They are the same. They move. But always come back. Just as Ka-mune circles Err-arth, perhaps watching over us?
Edit: typos and clarity a few plot holes. | 2016-07-27T10:56:09 | 2016-07-27T09:54:15 | 495 | 52 |
[WP] You are a genius who makes yourself immortal; unfortunately over a few hundred years the average IQ rises so high that you are now considered an idiot. | I can hear them mutter the same things as usual as I shuffle slowly past. They take 5 precious minutes out of their busy days to stop and stare.
"Who would want to live forever? Didn't he know that it would defeat the urgency and desires we find in life? What a fool..."
It's all relative, I think to myself. It's hard to care about the ins and outs of everyday life when it ceases to exist. The problems of yesterday are all gone. Global warming, international power struggles, global food shortages and poverty: all in objectively better positions than 400 years ago. With each century, more and more problems that matter to my 'oldschool' mind get wiped away as if it should have always been that easy. But these young whippersnappers around me still find problems to complain about. They will surely be fixed if I wait long enough. They haven't seen the process yet. They've heard about it, read about, could probably even tell me more than I could ever want to know about it. But I have seen it. To them, I am careless. To myself, I am carefree.
Sometimes, ignorance truly is bliss and knowledge truly is suffering.
| "Don't you realize what accomplishment this is?! I have lived far longer than any of you!!"
"You are inefficient, what accomplishment do you seek now, the way of true existence is how we are now, to leave the smallest footprint possible."
"What do you mean? You are here, don't you want the world to know you were?"
"That's part of the problem, your sights were always set inwards, what does your status do for our world? A world you have separated yourself from with your...antics."
"The most important of scientific pursuits can be trusted to me! I can learn from the smartest to exist of any time and carry that endeavor to the next generation through to its completio-"
"-It doesn't matter whether you do or not, before you there were the computers, institutions, databases, libraries. Back when the pursuit of knowledge was the reason us humans existed. Don't you think it would be better to be part of this world's cycle? To set yourself in nature's care and be taken through your life by her seasons and watch as you become one with this world? To watch it flourish and persevere?"
"But you aren't pursuing anything, you are just there letting yourself be drawn into your end...you don't WANT anything?!"
"Why should I, or any of us? Every want of the past led to the need to fill up their hands with Things! And things cluttered and choked the world. It seems you were and are the last to be here who still holds to desire for oneself. Also I grow tired. I am less interested in conversation than you are and feel myself being led."
"So that's it? We are supposed to just watch the world and the way it turns and be satisfied?"
"*sigh* fellow, why desire when the world does not desire? Just Be, the world turns and shows us all there is. I am now being turned away, and this time it feels as though I'll begin my descent. My existence on the surface to see is at an end and I will integrate with the soil."
"........So goodbye?"
"Just look up and watch, the world will turn and show you all that there is to see. Then you will be and that will be. Then you will not be but the world will. That is as it is and it is good.
....goodbye I suppose." | 2016-11-29T22:17:30 | 2016-11-29T22:14:03 | 79 | 13 |
[WP] The English Teacher's worst nightmare: a story or poem that is completely literal, with absolutely no double meanings
EDIT: Holy cow, this got way bigger than I thought it would, thanks so much for an awesome first prompt ever!
EDIT 2: Did this actually make it to the front page of reddit? What the... | Cheese and Broccoli Pie (Combo recipe)
Dough:
Buy some flour (requires at least 4 dl)
100g butter
1 cup of sour cream (the swedish "Kvarg" is perfect for this)
Filling:
3 eggs (but remember to buy freerange ones)
Cheese
2 cups of milk (whole preferably)
Broccoli
Pepper, salt and other spices.
200 degrees, 35-40 minutes.
**Note by Author: My husband was thoroughly confused over the shopping list with grass and cows, but the poem comity was impressed with my food haiku (not that it's even a real haiku. I suppose this shows how clueless the comity was.* | Write something literal, they said. A good story is easy to read. A good story is easy to remember. A good story tells you a story. It doesn't preach. It doesn't moralise. It doesn't claim to know more than the eye can see. Write something literal, they said.
The writer stared at his computer screen in front of him. He stared at a blank document. He typed a few words, deleted it. It didn't work. Not literal enough.
'Let's start with a poem,' he thought, 'let's make about a little girl trying to decipher it, unable to peel beyond the first layer. A young child taking her first steps into the adult world. You can't get more literal than that.'
'Or maybe it should be about that *chaiwallah*. He's out there selling tea from his bicycle all night at the corner of the street. He's not supposed to be there. I once even saw the police chase him away. But he was back the next day. Maybe he saw something heinous, but he can't tell anyone. After all, he's not even supposed to be there. Pure suffering. You can't get more literal than that.'
But the open document in front of him remained blank. His eyes got bleary, his fingers were numb. But the document remained blank. For nothing he could think of sufficed the expectations. Nothing he could write meant just what he meant. It wasn't his fault, he reasoned. It was the readers, he claimed, conveniently laying the blame at heir doorstep. Why did they have to read more into it than what he meant? Why couldn't they just leave his thoughts alone?
Excuses, excuses. No one understood this better than him.
Yet he grumbled to himself one last time, 'Write something literal, they said. A good story is easy to read.' | 2017-01-30T09:40:34 | 2017-01-30T08:28:09 | 38 | 26 |
[WP] An immortal is experiencing the heat death of the universe, when he can hear the sounds of confetti, and blasting music. The music stops with a record scratch, and a bewildered voice can be heard saying: "Wait...one's still here?" | "Now hang on a second, this isn't right. How did you get immortality?"
"Genie."
"A genie? No that doesn't make sense. Wait a second. Guys, did anyone put a genie in this one? No? No, I'm sorry friend, we're quite certain there were no genies in this universe."
"I'm telling you, I found a genie on the planet Earth."
"Earth? Hang on. Hmm - gosh, that hasn't been around for trillions of years! Let me dig out the records."
"Has it been trillions?"
"Oh my yes, have you just been floating there ever since?"
"Yeah. I got to watch The Milky Way and Andromeda collide, that was pretty cool."
"What have you been doing ever since?"
"The wish apparently kept my mind as healthy as my body. I've just been day dreaming. It's been dull but I'm not a ruin of a mind or anything."
"Well that's good. Ok, I have Earth here now. Let me see. Floyd, Earth was yours, wasn't it? This looks awfully like a genie to me. What's that? *Flavour*? We agreed no genies in this universe. You've gone and left this fellow floating for trillions of years. No, no, I don't want to hear your excuses. I'm terrible sorry about all this, friend. Well, we can snuff you out now if you like. We've got root control."
"Any other options?"
"I suppose we could pull you from the simulation and instantiate you in the top-level universe, if you like?"
"Yeah let's do that."
"Alrighty. What? I don't care if it's against policy. Get him a body ASAP. If he's lucky he'll be up and about in time for cake." | After all this the I still remember the experiment. I became something else that day. 3rd May 2030, according to the human dating system back then.
Humans. I remember them. Perhaps my biggest accomplishment was getting in a spaceship before they blew themselves up.
I've seen space empires rise and fall.
I've seen an entire galaxy artificially destroyed.
And now I've seen them all slowly die naturally. Here I am at the very end.
And finally I'm ready to die. "Immortal" was a good word to describe me for billions of years. But soon, my combined solar, nuclear and hydrogen power system will fail. Finally, I'll be the last to know, what comes after death. Different species with different beliefs, but all with the common desire for something.
Then I hear something unexpected. Music. Naretti party music. I'm in the middle of space, hows that even possible? Perhaps I've finally gone insane. Then I see confetti in the distance.
I've lost it in my final moments. Perhaps after all this time my mind cannot properly process my impending death.
The current song ends and switches to Farni party tunes. Goodness me they had wacky tunes to suite their unusual ears.
Suddenly a record scratch sound.
"Wait... One's still here?" Says a loud, booming, bewildered voice. A somehow familiar voice.
"Yes" I find myself saying.
"Our records show that is the human, Simon Weston" says another, loud booming voice, somehow familiar.
"I prefer the name Immortalis" I replied.
"Perhaps more fitting for, how you say, the last man standing?" Says a third familiar booming voice.
"Wait, your the Anasgarg, right? The species that believed in Ascension?" I ask.
"Precisely, by my calculations you have a few hours before that system of yours fails. So you have two ways you can join us. It's the same ending, but I believe you'll find one route more rewarding perhaps." replied the first voice.
The universe feel dark and silent.
Ascend or die, did it matter?
Somehow it did to me, and I started to recall everything I had learnt about Anasgarg ascension, made alot easier due to my half computer brain.
It'd be a shame to die after all these millennia.
I let myself slip into meditation. My bodily form isn't necessary. Knowing this for certain felt like cheating, the Anasgarg had faith, I had knowledge.
My disadvantage was being so familiar with my unchanging body, which I now had to abandon.
I remembered back to the times I hated what I was and reflected on my long wait for the universe heat death.
Suddenly an unexpected memory. An old lady, the only person I ever loved, dying.
"You'll see me again one day I promise. Just let go" she croaked.
I let my hand leave hers and I let my soul leave my body. | 2017-05-03T06:37:16 | 2017-05-03T05:49:32 | 395 | 33 |
[WP] An immortal is experiencing the heat death of the universe, when he can hear the sounds of confetti, and blasting music. The music stops with a record scratch, and a bewildered voice can be heard saying: "Wait...one's still here?" | "Now hang on a second, this isn't right. How did you get immortality?"
"Genie."
"A genie? No that doesn't make sense. Wait a second. Guys, did anyone put a genie in this one? No? No, I'm sorry friend, we're quite certain there were no genies in this universe."
"I'm telling you, I found a genie on the planet Earth."
"Earth? Hang on. Hmm - gosh, that hasn't been around for trillions of years! Let me dig out the records."
"Has it been trillions?"
"Oh my yes, have you just been floating there ever since?"
"Yeah. I got to watch The Milky Way and Andromeda collide, that was pretty cool."
"What have you been doing ever since?"
"The wish apparently kept my mind as healthy as my body. I've just been day dreaming. It's been dull but I'm not a ruin of a mind or anything."
"Well that's good. Ok, I have Earth here now. Let me see. Floyd, Earth was yours, wasn't it? This looks awfully like a genie to me. What's that? *Flavour*? We agreed no genies in this universe. You've gone and left this fellow floating for trillions of years. No, no, I don't want to hear your excuses. I'm terrible sorry about all this, friend. Well, we can snuff you out now if you like. We've got root control."
"Any other options?"
"I suppose we could pull you from the simulation and instantiate you in the top-level universe, if you like?"
"Yeah let's do that."
"Alrighty. What? I don't care if it's against policy. Get him a body ASAP. If he's lucky he'll be up and about in time for cake." | As he stood wincing, he looked out over the vast plain of space and time. Billions of light years of matter and energy begin hurling themselves inwards. The immortal looked out. Where, once there was an infinite sea of stars, now is a rapid influx of heavenly bodies and dust. His pain intensified. Yet, he couldn't help but admire the beauty of the destruction. The entire cosmos seemed to be converging into one giant mass. Gas, dust, rock, and sun all packed into an increasingly cramped space. At the center of it all, was a singular point of bright light.
The light, already brilliant and intense and more so than anything in sight, only got brighter with the consumption of each celestial mass. Both the light and his pain were unrelenting. The pain seemed to match the ingestion of stars. Despite the onslaught of stars and matter, the point of light appeared to be shrinking. A vortex of matter swirled around the light. As stars and planets got closer to the vortex, they were ripped apart. Stripped down to atoms, all succumbed to the Vortex and were eventually swallowed by the light.
The immortal could only watch as the light consumed everything that came near. The radiation of light intensified, but still decreased in size. Everything began to get smaller. Then, a crack of sound propagated through dust and outward in every direction as if an explosion occurred. The immortal looked in and saw no change to the light, no change to the vortex, and no change to the galaxies drawing ever nearer. The sound was as incredible as the light. However, the sound, light and pain grew together. Stuck in space and time, the immortal could not escape what was happening before him.
Where there was once a vast ocean of galaxies and an infinite horizon, the immortal could now see a wall of light followed by darkness. Pain, light and sound consumed all of his senses. The rush of matter blurred with the speed at which it was attracted to the light. Yet, smaller all things got. Until, there was no more to consume. All things known in the universe began its death spiral in the vortex, before yielding to the light. Then, all sound ceased. There was only light. And pain.
Guided by notion, the immortal took the light into his hand. Its glow felt warm and seemed to ease the pain. As the pain subsided, the immortal felt the vast emptiness that surrounded him. Soon, the pain stopped. The immortal looked into the light, its warmth fading as did its radiance. A calm fell over the immortal. No more pain, no more light. The vacuum of darkness washed over him.
The long tone of the electrocardiograph pierced the silence in the hospital room. Mark's wife and children began sobbing quietly. The flatline let them know his fight with cancer was over. His daughter cried and held on to her mother. "He's in a better place now." | 2017-05-03T06:37:16 | 2017-05-03T06:31:42 | 395 | 16 |
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