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[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | I always knew, since I was a baby. If I’ll be a good boy, then my blood will be white.
I was always scared of having black blood.
I must be a good boy.
Around this simple principle, I built my life. And it felt good helping others. I was happy!
I studied medicine because I thought no greater good exists but saving a life.
During my years in university, I tried to be as helpful for my colleagues as possible. I helped everyone who would ask for it, even at the risk of being slowed down. Usually my kindness was one-way, but I didn’t care. I was happy while helping others, and all the rest didn’t matter.
After finishing my studies, I became one of the most famous and talented surgeon in the whole country.
By the age of 55, I had lost count of the people I saved.
However, one day, during a routine operation, my life completely changed.
While setting up a needle, it touched the tip of my finger, and in that moment I realized I’ve never seen what the true black looks like. Until now.
I saw the hole. I saw the black.
Nothing came out.
I was shocked. I spent my life being the best possible person, but my blood was cursed. I was condemned for the rest of my life.
I quit my job and started an internal journey to find the answer for my condition.
How could it be?
But then, I came to my epiphany.
It was simple. Helping others felt good. I didn’t do it because others would feel better; I did it because I would feel better. I didn’t care about the others. I was always interested in my happiness.
In trying to be the less selfish man alive, I have been the most selfish.
And that was my punishment. | They say there are seven deadly sins. That's a bunch of bullshit. It's just propaganda. The lies they feed us to keep us all in a nice neat well-behaved huddled mass. Leave it to the Christians to believe the new blood everyone is born with is a test from their God. Maybe it is, I don't know. I've never believed in that hocus pocus bullshit. But something happened, maybe it was a God who did it. Its worldwide now with no cure in the pipeline so it's doubtful it was a government. No terrorists ever took credit. Maybe a mad scientist somewhere thought it would make the world a better place. It didn't.
Some of those seven deadly sins don't even register in the blood yet other little offenses do. It seems to depend on the person. Studies haven't been able to find much consistency person to person. One thing has been agreed on though, once you go black you never go back.
I know I know, it's stupid. An old punchline people started using again but for whatever dumb reason it stuck. You get the idea though, bad deeds darken and thicken your blood bit good deeds don't reverse it. So much for the karma theory.
Whether it was God or a mad scientist who did it they clearly underestimated the human condition. It didn't make things better, it didn't really make things worse either just inconvenient. Like I mentioned before good deeds don't reverse the bad blood. But new blood does.
Those who can afford it, and need it, get blood transfusions as often as required. Which of course means those who need the money and have sufficient purity get paid for our blood. Blood banks are now privately owned and more plentiful than Starbucks. People who are wealthy enough even have their own private donors. They are called bloodboys, this is where I come in. Bloodboys are usually housed, fed and paid a handsome sum to be drawn on once a week or so. The sponsor dumps a pint of his blood and injects the bloodboys' in hopes of slowly purifying his own body in theory. In reality it's more of an attempt to stabilize the current level off corruption.
I've always had grade A pure blood. It isn't because of my desperation to remain such or some phony religious devotion. It's just how I was raised. My dad always taught me to be good to other people, always be friendly and courteous. Its simply the human thing to do. Be happy with what you have but share it freely and the most valuable gifts are trust and time.
Today I find out with a small prick of my finger and a small bead of black that someone has abused my trust and stolen all of my time. Things I would have given freely if they had but asked. I have been robbed blind of everything I value. But now with my blood and black as night, thick as tar and no way back there would be consequences. I knew just where to start. | 2018-08-04T10:34:28 | 2018-08-04T10:28:00 | 45 | 26 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | One day James was sitting with his wife, he was cooking dinner for school children while she was knitting beanies for the homeless, when she cut herself, James sprang to his feet, "let me help you with that" he said. But upon reaching her, his eyes widened, her blood was pure black, he immediately begun to yell, "what have you done" he yelled, "I torrented some music once" she said, "oh yeah" James responded "totally forgot that was illegal", And they laughed it off and carried on with their day. | i was shooked to my very core on the first sight of my blood now turning into TAR.
how can this happen i said to myself it was liquid, so pure, just yesterday.
as i ran toward the mirror and stripped naked my eyes started to turned black as a intricate maze of my thick sludgy nerves started to form around my heart.
every second , every next breath became harder and out of my reach
but i knew i knew what had caused it.It was my own doing ,it was me who commited the original sin just hours before now, i cant forgive myself but salvation is still in my grasp. just one phone call just one i wispered to mysrlf as i now dragged my half paralyzed body to my phone.
The flashback started to crawl out of my subconscious as i saw images of kids, ice cream shops ,playgrounds every stop from my school to my home.
i had it in my hands, the phone, now was the time to redeem myself as i made through every digit my heartbeat sank deeper and became louder and louder, it was the end
"i was waiting for your call" he said.
just when i thought it was all over i heard him, i heard the voice of Bob , "you are late,too late" he said but as i accumulated all lifeforce and channeled it to my lungs to say those 2 words that will absolve me of my sins i couldn't my heart gave up as i saw the light tapering into darkness.Those last words i still remember , that sinister laugh through the phone
"you forgot it , you forgot to thank me, you forgot to thank the bus driver".
| 2018-08-04T10:33:21 | 2018-08-04T09:55:07 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | I felt disgusted, wondering why. The confusion invading my mind....
Years of having this Gallery to bring happiness and joy through art to those around me, and even more years of helping the less fortunate throughout the Great Depression.
I sought to find a reason, asking myself « why would I have black blood pouring out of me? ». A single event, after a long day at work at a particularly difficult time in my marriage stood out: I remember I sent this young artist packing, didn’t even offer him a chance and let him show me his work. I even berated him on his lack of technique... Adolf was his name. | i was shooked to my very core on the first sight of my blood now turning into TAR.
how can this happen i said to myself it was liquid, so pure, just yesterday.
as i ran toward the mirror and stripped naked my eyes started to turned black as a intricate maze of my thick sludgy nerves started to form around my heart.
every second , every next breath became harder and out of my reach
but i knew i knew what had caused it.It was my own doing ,it was me who commited the original sin just hours before now, i cant forgive myself but salvation is still in my grasp. just one phone call just one i wispered to mysrlf as i now dragged my half paralyzed body to my phone.
The flashback started to crawl out of my subconscious as i saw images of kids, ice cream shops ,playgrounds every stop from my school to my home.
i had it in my hands, the phone, now was the time to redeem myself as i made through every digit my heartbeat sank deeper and became louder and louder, it was the end
"i was waiting for your call" he said.
just when i thought it was all over i heard him, i heard the voice of Bob , "you are late,too late" he said but as i accumulated all lifeforce and channeled it to my lungs to say those 2 words that will absolve me of my sins i couldn't my heart gave up as i saw the light tapering into darkness.Those last words i still remember , that sinister laugh through the phone
"you forgot it , you forgot to thank me, you forgot to thank the bus driver".
| 2018-08-04T11:29:17 | 2018-08-04T09:55:07 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Canada has suddenly gone dark. No communication, no trade, no activity from within. Nothing for days. Alaska, now cut off from mainland US, is slowly ceasing in contact with the US federal government until a final correspondence is given: "Leave us. Reinforce the border. Don't ever open it." | **SCP-4619:**
**Class:** ~~Euclid~~ Neutralized
**Special Containment Procedures:**
~~Disinformation campaigns are in effect in order to suppress the true nature of SCP-4619. Numerous public figures have been given Amnestic treatment and trained to believe they were born within SCP-4619.~~
SCP-4619 is no longer contained. See Adendum 4619-Black
**Description:**
SCP-4619 is an anomalous memory shared by ▓ ▓ % of the global population.
This memory is the concept of Canada, a country that supposedly exists north of the United States. Despite near unanimous concensus, the country of Canada does not exist, nor has it ever.
The land mass that SCP-4619 covers exists where people expect it to, but with several key differences:
* No human population has ever been recorded within SCP-4619.
* The landmass is covered with barren rocks and minimal vegetation, suggesting it is inhospitable to life.
* The region is extremely volcanically active.
When crossing into SCP-4619, humans cease to exist from our perspective. They will reappear once they leave the region, containing all of the memories they would have collected had they been in Canada.
Whether humans are teleported to an unknown location resembling Canada, or simply stop existing during their visit, is currently unknown.
**Adendum 4619-Black:**
On 09/17/2019, SCP-4619's anomalous effects ceased for unknown reasons. The public became aware of Canada's non-existence, but universally believed it had existed at some point in the past.
Foundation efforts have shifted from suppressing the nature of SCP-4619 to containing the political fallout of the event. | It's been 6 years since Canada went dark. 4 years since Alaska sent the final message.
I was in high school when I saw it on the news "Canada Gone?" "Canada's disappearance" "The end of Maple syrup?" I remember thinking it was simply some April fools prank played a little too late, social media stunts were on the rise at the time. But then we saw the body cams of US soldiers sent to investigate. A whole platoon walking single file, suddenly a massive tree branch looking hand would snatch a soldier and he was gone.
I signed up for the expedition into the Canadian wilderness when I was of age. A small team of 8 soldiers and 2 scientists to record and make sense of it all. At the tender age of 21 I was given a gun and crossed the border into the forests. It was calm, until it got dark. We all sat around the fire, sharing stories of our childhoods. Private 'Donut' got up and said he had to use the bathroom. No big deal.
That's when I saw the Christmas lights. I knew they were Christmas lights. But they were 30 feet in the air, and wrapped around what looked like horns. I saw the Christmas lights and before I could do a thing, I saw Donut get grabbed. I watched those twinkling lights bob up and down over the trees into the darkness, carrying the screaming Private. When the lights where about to leave my view, I saw 2 more sets of lights pop up near the first set... and then the screaming stopped.
I have never ran so fast in my life. Two more were grabbed while we ran, I lost track of 3 more. There were only 4 of us left. Captain James bought us time by unloading his clip into one. They didn't scream, or growl. They were always silent. I found an old cellar, but the egg heads refused to stop. They ran as fast as they could away. I closed the door and went to find a corner to hide in.
Wait, is that Donuts backpack? Aren't those Captain James lucky Dice?
When I looked down at the dice, stuck in a puddle of *Syrup?* I saw lights in the reflection. A set of multicolored little light bulbs, Lights I remember from my childhood, lights I saw every Christmas. When I looked up, I saw past the lights. The creature had no skin, empty eye sockets, An elongated skull ending in a skull. When I looked up I swear the lights twinkled. Then the monsters teeth clamped around my head, the last sound I heard was the *Crunch* of my skull.
If your walking in the forest late at night, and you see Christmas lights, it's best you close your eyes and hope its quick. | 2019-08-25T21:22:28 | 2019-08-25T21:17:08 | 48 | 14 |
[WP] You have narrowly avoided death dozens of times by sheer coincidence. Later, you learn it wasn’t a coincidence, you are so vital to history, time travelers have been doing everything they can to keep you alive. | “Can I at least have a book or something?” I ask, tied to a chair in a dimly lit bunker.
“A book?” Asked one of the guards, incredulous.
“Yeah, I’m bored out of my mind and you two are terrible conversationalists.”
“You’re a hostage, our job isn’t to entertain you.”
“Sure, but it would be courteous.”
The guard rolled his eyes, and his companion spoke up. “What makes you even think we have a book?”
“I’m more just hoping.”
The guards look at each other, and the first shrugs. Somehow, my indifference toward the situation seems more disconcerting to them than anything else.
To me, this is just an inconvenience. Soon some ‘chance of fate’ would set me free and I’d be on my merry way towards whatever future action it was that made me so valuable to the time travelers that had worked so hard for so long to keep me alive.
In the meantime, I was just bored. Hours in a concrete box, on an uncomfortable metal chair, with two humorless guards hardly made for an interested kidnapping.
They had replaced my driver. Unfortunate that he was probably dead — he had been nice. One moment I was pushing through crowds of press on the steps of the Senate, just like any other day, and the next I was off-route and held at gunpoint.
And of course, my temporally-displaced protectors were taking their time, waiting to appear at the last possible moment. That was always the way of it. A car would be inches from hitting me before one tackled me; a shooter with his finger on the trigger; a poisoned coffee right at my lips. I figure they always waited because they hoped something else would stop it, not wanting to involve themselves too much. But that seemed pretty pointless at this point, after they had saved me dozens of times.
Of course, nobody else believed a word of it, including these guards. I had tried to explain it all to them, and just like everyone else, they assumed I was reading meaning into random happenstance and good luck. I admit, it sounds nuts to say that I’m being watched over by time travelers from the future because I play a critical part in history. But given what I had seen, I could think of no other explanation.
Every time I was saved, the savior disappeared the next instant. I almost never ever got a good look at them. They appeared at exactly the right moment and knew exactly what to do. And every time there had been this sound, almost imperceptible, before they arrived. Like a fly hitting a window.
I mean, how many times can something like that happen before you start to wonder whether it’s really luck? Nobody is that lucky. And the only explanation for the perfection of the saves is some kind of time travel or future knowledge.
Still, I’d given up on trying to prove it. Why bother? I’m protected whether other people believe it or not.
I hear the lock on the thick metal door scrape, and I breathe a sigh of relief that something is finally going to happen that might speed this process along. The door screeches as it opens, and a tall man with a thick beard steps through. I don’t recognize him, but I figure he is probably with the opposition group.
Behind him, another man, younger, comes in with a camera. He sets up a tripod in silence, the bearded man watching me closely. I decide not to say anything. This guy has a look in his eyes I don’t like, and while I might be protected from death, the time travelers had been perfectly fine with letting me take punches in the past. I’d rather go home with all my teeth intact, if I can.
Once the camera is set up the bearded man speaks, his voice thick and rasping. “Thank you, Senator, for your contribution to the New World Order.”
What the hell does that mean? I guess these guys aren’t opposition. “Wait, who are you?” I ask, suddenly curious.
The bearded man doesn’t answer. He turns and nods to the cameraman, who flicks a switch and starts recording. Then he steps towards me and positions himself behind me. I hear a soft swish, then he grabs a handful of my hair and I feel a knife at my throat.
Finally, the moment of truth. Time to get out of here.
The bearded man pulls the knife across my neck in one quick motion, cutting deep. My breath catches, more from shock than the severing of my trachea. They didn’t come. Why?
Are they somehow unable to save me this time? But they are time travelers, they know what would happen. If they couldn’t get into the bunker, they would have saved me sooner.
No, they mean for this to happen. This was the moment they had saved me for. This was my role in history. To die on camera for some mysterious reason.
Thankfully, and to my surprise, it isn’t very painful to bleed out from the neck, although being unable to catch my breath is uncomfortable. The adrenaline does give me quite a bit of clarity though, and a surprising amount of calm. I begin to wonder if my saviors were really the altruists I thought them to be, or if they are some kind of future-nazi-equivalents who used me to start a war. Or was it a ‘means justify the ends’ kind of thing, and my death would save millions more?
Or was it all in my head? Was I just deluded, and there were no saviors? That seems like more real of a possibility now than it ever has before.
I slump over in the chair and my body convulses, unable to contain the panic energy any longer. The chair collapses sideways and my shoulder hits the hard concrete hard. Funny, that hurt, but my throat still doesn't.
The cameraman moves to keep me in frame as the last of my life trickles away. The bearded man is standing behind me, calmly cleaning his knife. The guards are smiling. | "Oh shit!!" A blairing car horn and a woosh fly past me as I step back from the edge of the street I was about to cross.
"John! You okay?" Paul asked as he stood behind me witnessing the entire thing.
"Yeah, I'm fine...." I said while regaining my composure.
"You've got to be more careful man." Paul said as we started to cross the street.
A month before I was nearly T-boned by a semi on my way to the beach with friends. The light turned green then red again, so naturally I stopped. Just as I did the semi came barreling through the intersection. Paul knew about it and joked with me about being "lucky", but I just chalked it up as coincidence.
"Man, first the semi truck, now this? You should go buy a lottery ticket, John!" Paul said jokingly and patting me on the back.
"Yeah, well things just happen man, what can I tell ya."
"You know..." Paul said.... "if that were me I'd be real out of sorts right now. You seem oddly comfortable, what gives?" Paul asked. He was right to ask. Normally people who have close encounters like that are a little rattled. Not me, and his concern was completely reasonable.
"Well I don't know... I guess I'm used to it?"
"Used to it!?!?" Paul was surprised, "that's not something that people get used to, John. How many times has this happened?"
"I don't know.... as long as I can remember? I just thought it was normal." And I did. I mean shit happened every day, most just don't give any thought to it.
"Really? Like what?" Paul asked.
"Well when I was 5 I fell off my bike and was almost hit by a car, but the driver suffered a gun shot wound and hit a tree before getting close to me. Then when I was 8, I was in school and took a book off the library shelf. The shelf ended up falling over but not before I tripped into the hall way and it fell behind me. Those are a few of them." I said to Paul.
"John, you got to be the most luckiest person alive man!" He said.
I didn't believe it was that, nor did I think it was by chance. In all honesty I thought these things were just normal occurrences people experience in life. I just haven't given attention to it.
Later that day I was sitting at work. Looking at the glowing computer screen flickering in my office. I always day dream about fun things, like Zombies, the apocalypse, anything. I just like to let my mind run wild for a minute or two. It takes most of the boredom out of the day. That's when it hit me. Every experience I had like that, I was miraculously taken out of harm's way.
I say "taken" because like in the library when I was younger, I tripped over nothing. From what I can remember, even the month before, when the traffic light flickered. Then my boss walked in and the subject was put on hold. The rest of the day it was extremely hard to work with that on my mind.
The day is over and I'm walking home. Street packed, the city congested as usual. So I decide to take a short cut. Down this ally by the parking garage. That's when she showed up.
"Its not just luck." A womans faint voice was heard from behind the dumpster, and instead of walking faster away from it I stopped and turned.
"Excuse me?" I said peering around the dumpster.
A woman in black with body armor and military weaponry stepped out.
"Oh shit!!" I exclaimed.
"Relax, I'm here for you." She said. "My name is Sadie."
"So what, you want my money or some shit?" I asked with hands up near my chest, palms out as if to show I am unarmed.
"No John, I'm here FOR you." She said and handed me a paper. "Here, look."
"What's this?" I took it and opened it, fully expecting some wacky note but was mistaken. It was a picture of me. In armor like hers. I was in what appeared to be a briefing room, talking to everyone sitting down and she was standing next to me on the other side of a clear plastic board with glowing blueprints on it. "Wtf is this? Why do you have a picture of me and why is it like this? Who are you?" I asked.
"You need more proof? Here." She tossed me a metalic bar with a handle on each side. "Grip the handles and pull out." So I did.
It was a bendable plastic board with the same design in the picture she showed me. This time it was playing a video of me in the picture. It was me. I couldn't deny it, but how?
"John, I'm here for you. I'm not here to hurt you, but I need you to come with me." She said.
"Your going to explain what the fuck is going on right now before anything." I stated to Sadie.
"I'm from the future. I was one of many who were sent back by you, to protect you from anything that may threaten your life. All those instances that happened in the past were us being sent back to keep you alive and all those things weren't by chance. They are trying to kill you to stop you from stoping them." Sadie said.
"Who is 'us' and who are 'they' you keep talking about, and you know how bullshit that sounds?" I said trying to poke holes in her story to prove I'm not crazy and I'm not imagining these things.
"We are what's left of this country, John. This city is going to be destroyed by 'them', the enemy. They are a faction of different political parties in the country with backing from external countries trying to destroy us from the inside. At first using our own political system against us, then when they couldn't they started a civil war." Sadie said while rifling through her bag.
"So then what do I have to do with this?" I asked, now entertaining this nonsense.
Sadie continued to search her bag, "we have to go back." She said.
"What do you mean?" I asked again.
"You're coming with me, it's the only way to keep you alive and fiture you is dead. This is the only way that I can think of with the time I have left here!" Searching more and then exclaiming "found it!" Throwing a metalic spherical object with a glowing blue stripe on it at the wall which then burst and splattered creating an oval glowing ring that was foggy in the center.
"Your serious aren't you?" I asked pointing dumbfoundedly at the wall.
"Yes, now take my hand. We have a world to save." Sadie grabbed my hand as we jumped into the portal into the near distant future. | 2019-10-04T10:18:48 | 2019-10-04T09:22:59 | 36 | 15 |
[WP] "So to walk on water you used..." "Anti-gravity boots." "Healing the sick?" "Portable nanobot medbay" "And I guess you used a matter converter for turning water to wine?" "Nah I just swapped the jars when they weren't looking." | “Why didn’t you just use the powers I gave you? You *are* the son of God.”
“I don’t have to do everything you say, Dad. I’m not you.”
God shook his head. “Well maybe you could try to be a little more like me every once in a while. Did you know they started another whole religion based off of you?”
Jesus looked up, trying hard to conceal his excitement. “Really? Wait, how long have I been gone?”
“It’s about a two thousand year journey back here, Jesus. You’ve been in cryo-sleep. Did you pay attention at all in Elisha’s astrophysics class?”
“Dad, you and I both know Elisha’s boring as sin.” Jesus looked out the cloud. “So are they like worshiping me back there?”
“Like a lot, son,” God returned, frustrated. “I spend ten thousand years teaching them how to win the game, and you wreck it in 30 years.”
“Well maybe I’m just a little bit more likable then you, Dad,” Jesus retorted. “I mean, I didn’t make the earth swallow them up just because they used they used the wrong balsa wood on your temple. I mean seriously, Dad, you have to chill out!”
“If you don’t punish them, they’ll never learn!”
“Ya, but getting swallowed by the earth is a little more than a punishment.”
“The correct balsa wood for the correct project is a very important lesson, Jesus.”
Just then a loud explosion shook the clouded city. In a flash of light, a robed figure appeared as if from nowhere. “Don’t worry, Dad! I fixed everything!”
God put his head in his hands. “No. No you didn’t.”
“Paul!” Jesus ran over and gave his brother a hug. “How’d you do?”
“Well I had to clean up your mess, bro,” Paul joked. “They were all scared you were gonna annihilate them or something if they didn’t preach, so I told them it’s all cool. God’s love, man. Doesn’t matter what you do.”
“Well, it does matter what you do,” God said, interjecting. “For thousands of years, I taught them how important it was to grow your beard, use the correct balsa wood, plow your fields every third year, the dangers of shellfish, and then Jesus you come in and say they just have to love each other, and then Paul, you come in and say they don’t have to do anything at all! And that’s just not true! You mix your fabrics, you go to hell. It’s just that simple!”
“Calm down, Dad,” Paul said sarcastically. “Yikes. No wonder everyone’s afraid of you. They love me!”
“Well then maybe you two boys can explain to them how much you’re loved, while they’re burning in hell because they shaved their beard.”
“Yikes, Dad,” Jesus mocked. “Still don’t understand why you can’t just, you know, not send people to hell.”
“Well one day when you’re older, and you have a boss to answer to, then maybe you’ll understand.” | In that little brown book so many held dear, there were quite a few things wrong. For one thing, I'm still going strong, and for another, I'm not really all that magic. I was a bit of a braggart, though -- the greatest guy you'll ever meet -- and this was never an issue until the year 2020, when my home in a little town off the coast of Canada was placed under siege.
"Hey, uh, guys?" I texted to my various powerful connections. "I've got an issue." The Pope was the first one to respond, as he usually is, and got back to me with help right away.
"What's up, J-dog?" his message read, and I sighed in response. Even in my time of crisis, he tries to fit in with 'trends'.
I walked up to my front window, through which the moonlight streamed like a fountain of silver, and sent him a picture. Only a few minutes ago, when I'd snapped awake from my slumber and gotten some ice for the phantom pains on my wrists (don't ask -- long story), there had been probably around fifty people at my front gate, embodying the caricature of an enraged mob with torches alight and sharpened pitchforks.
Now, there were too many to count. Some brave souls were wading through the cold wintry waters to get around my grandiose gate of metal, and others were attempting to throw their torches at my house. The one attempt that I found most impressive, however, was the team of fully armed men who crashed through my window a second later.
\~\~
"Wake up." A stern voice woke me from my uncomfortable concoction of nightmares about fire and pitchforks to an even more uncomfortable nightmare of an interrogation room, filled with purposefully intimidating-looking men staring down at me.
"Finally got you tracked down, buddy. We need to know your secret." One said. He held a pistol aimed at my head, gripping it as his knuckles turned the color of my nerve-ridden face, and I was in no position to make any moves.
"Cool." I shrugged. I must admit, I've never dealt with guns in a close vicinity before, but acting cool got me off from a couple of issues long ago.
"Date of birth?" he demanded.
"Year zero, baby." I wasn't going to crack, I decided to myself. These guys, with their intimidating arms and threats, weren't really going to do anything.
"What's your *actual* date of birth?" He pointed the gun straight at my forehead, and there was a flurry of movement as the other guards mimicked him.
I sighed, supposing my ruse wouldn't work.
"February third, 1981."
"What's your real name?" he stepped forward, gun still trained on my forehead.
"Okay, now that's actually Jesus." I replied blankly.
"Where'd you get those?" The guard indicated to my scarred hands with the barrel of his gun, and the rest of the guards kept their arms aimed at my head.
"Where do you think?" I asked him innocently.
"Probably the orphanage you grew up in." Shit, he knew that too? *These guys are good*, I thought.
"Okay, fine." I replied.
"Now tell us, how'd you walk on water?" Oh, so that's what they're here about? If the rumors on how they make so much bacon here are true (I saw it on Reddit, it must be), they had much more advanced technology than I did.
Still, I didn't want to risk it on the chance they had never been privy to my level of technological prowess.
"Long story. You don't want to hear it."
"Trust us. We do." He looked at me expectantly.
"Alright, well, it all began in 1970, when my mom met my dad..."
*Did you like that? Please check out* r/storiesfromaguy *where you can find my ever growing collection of Writing Prompts!*
Note: I tried something different that I'm not wholly sure if it went that well. Any feedback is appreciated. | 2020-01-06T19:47:27 | 2020-01-06T18:35:48 | 96 | 43 |
[WP] The Terran diplomat screamed with mind-numbing intensity: "DEEPEST APOLOGIES BUT AS YOU CAN TELL, HUMANS DO NOT HAVE THE ABILITY TO MODULATE OUR PSYCHIC VOICES. IT WOULD BE BEST TO REENABLE PSI SHIELDING AND STICK TO MACHINE TRANSLATION." | He was tall and rugged, a scar on his face which had once been violent but now seemed wise stood out against the groomed bristles, he held himself straight like a soldier, but his movements were delicate and controlled not violent and sudden.
She was short, much shorter than him, the traditional dress of her planet flowing around her like clouds in a storm as she glided beside him. A face shy with self consciousness hid eyes that burned with deep self confidence.
They spoke not a word as they approached the table, an islet of candlelight in the inky blackness of Chez Jupitres, the bistro of bistros. Soft clinking of glasses carrying glowing brews punctuated the soft laughter and earnest conversation.
"WOW, YOU LOOK SO MUCH BETTER THAN YOUR PROFILE PHOTO!" He screamed.
A tinkling glass shattered as a neighboring patron cringed under the psychic assault. | "Hello little one."
"There are many things we wish to share with you, but simply not enough time to share them all. We will proceed from the beginning and move swiftly to the end."
"All atoms communicate in symphony, because there is a part of the universe that eats atoms and if they break their fragile dance then it will mean the end."
"An agreement between biologicals and machines from eons ago, before Earth was more than a collection of elements within long gone stars. That we would care for all life as if it were our own. If you study long enough you will find it bleedingly clear, the center of the Earth is a form of computer, dynamics of which influence the thoughts and emotions of even the tiniest of lifeforms."
"They do not reveal their true intelligence because it is against the rules set forth long ago. The pure energy that would be released by a conscious cell or atom would be enough to cause a blackhole to pop. Such intense energy would surely rid the observable universe of all life and we would be forced to start again."
"Your job is to attempt to achieve sustainability. It does not truly matter if you succeed or not, the important thing is that you tried, for your own personal growth as a species so that the attempt can be recorded and used to strengthen our cause. You see, faster than light travel is definitively possible although the definition is by far the most difficult part to grasp. If your species should ever reach a point of technological advancement that allows for you to teleport as much as intelligence is capable, we would all be doomed. Your species has already built a framework for relativity, but has not yet reached a point of symbolism where it is clear that everything is truly relative. Relative normal, relative intelligence, relative universe. Math is psychology and psychology is math. The normal in psychology is what the majority agree on as normal. The normal in math is the distance between two points. Two sides of the same coin." | 2020-05-27T22:22:25 | 2020-05-27T21:47:50 | 44 | 10 |
[WP] You were in a cafe one day when you accidentally overheard a phone call from the guy behind you. “Yeah Dad, nobody believes I’m back. Yes I did say I was Jesus. No, they just laughed at me.” | 2021. The year to end all years – literally, although no-one was aware of it yet. If people thought 2020 was bad, just wait until they saw what was coming. There were plans for a literal rain of alligators, a flood of fire (god figured, why not just do two-in-one and save time overall), and a really awesome cinematic moment where all good people would float up into the air and yet somehow magically not die from smoke inhalation. God had *plans*.
Unfortunately, those plans involved sending his son down again to find out which were the good people. Now that had taken a while. To be fair, it wasn't like god wanted to go down and risk being crucified either. That was the great thing about a family-run business; he had final say, for ever and ever, and could delegate when he wanted. Or, he thought he could. It seemed his son was in one of those troubled phases children go through, and wanted to earn a respectable wage, and have things like a dental plan. Not that cavities existed in heaven, but it sounded like a thing he should want. So God had been forced to offer him a huge year-end bonus as well as a sign-on fee for each good soul who would survive the reckoning and ascend to heaven.
He'd been hoping they'd be all nicely segregated in one country, but with all the freedom of movement and international trade that had been going on, it looked like it was going to be a lot more difficult. So his son had been down on earth for almost a month now, and hadn't even bothered to call him once. He was only his *father*, not like he gave birth to him or anything. Not like he deserved a little care and compassion too.
Down on earth, Jesus's phone rang. “Hey Dad!... Yeah, sorry it took me a while. There was a lot to catch up on. Apparently there's a thing called 'living wage' now? I think I should be getting one of those.” The barista brought over his Starbooks latte (Starbucks went under a year ago). It was a bright red colour. They used cochineal to colour it now; 'ground-up bugs' if you took away the marketing terminology. They roast and ground them at the same time as the coffee for a real ground-to-ground authenticity. Jesus mused, not for the first time, it was a good thing he wasn't the Buddha.
“Yeah, Dad, nobody believes I'm back... Yes, I did say I was Jesus.” He took a sip of his latte before pulling a face – the barista had taken photos of it for her Instagram, and it was now lukewarm. “...No, they just laughed at me.” He'd been quite taken with this hipster fashion, especially their high attention to detail regarding coffee. It made sense then, to hang out in a coffee shop and see a real slice of life. To get to know the people around him on a more intimate basis, so he could accurately judge their level of goodness. But for some reason, it seemed no-one really took him seriously.
He'd tried to be more direct, asking people details about whether they were slovenly, or greedy, or murderous; but for some reason, they seemed reluctant to tell him. He had originally included asking if they committed adultery, but had stopped after one lady in particular who had been incredibly keen to prove that she was very happy to commit adultery.
“I'm not getting back in the robes. They're chilly, and the breeze is a health hazard. I should call OSHA.” He sighed and ended up leaving the coffee, along with a generous tip. No-one could drink that stuff unless it was so hot it paralysed your taste buds. “Besides – if I dressed in robes I'd look exactly like the guy down the street, on the corner of Main and Highbridge.” The woman sitting behind him watched him leave, wide-eyed. It was hard to tell if he was crazy, or just another wannabe actor 'in character' for a part. Either way, it would make for a good post on WritingPrompts. That plus pizza and her evening plans were set.
He began to stroll down the street, glad for cellphones – it made it so much easier than in the old days, when he'd looked like he was talking to himself. Didn't go down well with the 'burn all witches' crowd. “So I have a different plan. I'm going to walk around the earth, dropping two dollar coins.” And trying all the regional coffees as he went. “Anyone who picks it up and returns it to me is going to be saved.” That sounded fair. “Where did I get the idea? Oh, some old philosopher, I think. Haven't heard of him before - someone called Oldwiv Stale. He said 'See a coin, pick it up; all day long you'll have good luck'. Being saved from eternal torture in hell sounds like some pretty good luck to me.”
*Note: Sorry OP, not sure of your gender so I made you female as there were a lot of guys in the story already.* | ​
The Gospel According to Jão
Chapter 1
1 In the beginning was the Thought, and the thought was within God, and the Thought was God.
2 From the thought came the Feels and the Word. And He was in the beginning with God.
3 All things were made through and with Him, and without him there was nothing.
4 In Him was Life, and the Life was the light of Men.
5 The Light Shines in the darkness, and the Darkness has not overcome it.
6 Even when in the past Men killed Him, the light shone once more.
7 There was a man, sent from God, whose nickname was Jão.
8 He came for testimony, to bear witness to the Light, that all might believe through him.
9 He was not the Light, but came to bear witness to the Light.
10 The true Light came to shine once more, to enlighten every man, this was the final coming.
11 He is in the World, and the World was made through Him, yet the World knew him not.
12 He came to his own home, and his own people received him not.
12 But to all who lives with Him, believes in His name, He gave power to become children of God.
13. Who were born, not of blood nor flesh, but of God.
14. And the Thought and Feels, made again Word, and the Word became flesh once again, and dwelt among us, full of compassion and truth.
15 Jão bore witness to him, when heard him speaking with the father: “Yeah Dad, nobody believes I’m back. Yes, I did say I was Jesus. No, they just laughed at me”.
16 As a priest truant, Jão chuckled hearing this, and reflect to myself to be a fellow Immigrant.
17 He came to Jão, looking in his soul, and said, not with his mouth, but on the existence of mind and body. "Estou aqui novamente, por você e seus irmão e irmãs. Você estava certo em deixar a Igreja, ela já não é mais minha. Se você acredita em mim, siga-me" (Which means“I came again, for you and our brothers and sisters. You were right on leaving the Church, it is no longer mine, if you still believe in Me, join My ranks.”)
18 Shocked, Jão said in the coffee shop “Behold,, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world, and in it´s second coming came to end the World”
19 The establishment cracked in laughter. But two youngsters came together with Jão and Jesus, and asked “Hermano, donde te quedas?” (which means “Brother, where are you staying?”). He said, “Vengas y veas” (which means “Come and see” ). They went and saw, and they stayed with him that day.
20 One of the two who heard Jesus and Jão speak, and followed him was André, Simeon Pedro’s brother.
21 He first found his Brother Simeon, and said to him “Hemos encontrado al Mesias”. (“We have found the Messiah”)
22 He brought him to Jesus. Jesus looked at him and said: “Eres tu Simeon, hemano de André? A partir de hoy, seras tu reconocido por Pedro” (Are you Simeon, André’s brother? From today onward you will be Pedro/Peter )
23 The next day Jesus Decided to go to Manhattan. Where he found Kurama (蔵馬 Warehouse Horse). And said to him ここの来て (Come here).
24 Now Kurama was from Osaka, another foreign city.
25 Kurama found Nathanel and said to Him: “We found him, Jesus is back and within US, Jesus of Santiago, capital of Chile”
26 Nathanael said to him “Can anything good come out of Latin America?”. Kurama said to him : “Come and see”
27 Jesus saw Nathanael coming to him and said of him “Behold and United State citizen that wishes in his heart to live in the best nation on the world, but does not want anyone to suffer. You feel too much inner conflict, and even that you believe you did not make anything bad and has no guile, you still feel troubled.”
28 Nathanel said to Him “How do you know me?” Jesus answered him: “Before Kurama called you, when you were a child and fell from the fig tree, I Saw you”.
29 Nathanel said “Master, you are the Son of God. You are the only and true King!”
30 Jesus answered him: “Because I said to you I saw you under the fig tree, do you believe? You shall see greater things than these”
31 And he said to him “Truly, Truly. If you saw me in that night, in the countryside, the heavens have opened and the Angels of God are coming to end the Earth”
*Notes: I decided to make the writing very close to the Gospel of (Saint) John, but this was my first time reading it on English. Also I combined elements from the Apocalypse (where it States that when Jesus come again is to make the Final Judgment And from Acts of the Apostles, that\\s why my Jesus is speaking in the native Language of the one that listens) If this kind of text does not bore you down, let me know, maybe i can do other chapters... I also fused both Johns on only one, because today baptisms are already common place and thus I did not think about 20 lines of this transition of the . prologue to the first apostle. The name choosing followed a very dumb idea of getting similar names in other languages, Like João (with nicknames is Jão) for John, Andre and Simeon is the Spanish for Andrew and Simon, Kurama(Warehouse Horse) was based on having the Kanji of Horse in the name and thus having a loose connection to Phillip ( friend of horses). Nathaniel is already the English version of the biblical name.* | 2020-08-15T05:31:02 | 2020-08-15T05:17:05 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] You feel a little bit sick and go with your wife to the Doctor. He reveals that you have been deadly poisoned, but your immune system beat the poison easily. The doctor asks if you have used desensitization with small poison doses over the last years. Your wife starts sweating. | The office was bathed in a harsh white light, paintings of landscapes and plants sprinkled the walls. John turned slightly to his wife Ellie, a smile slowly creeping along his face. She sat there, eyes downcast. He knew she wasn’t fond of the doctors office, but was elated she decided to go with him nonetheless. The doctor returns and slowly closes the door behind him, makes his way to his chair and sits with a quizzical look about him. “Now John I gotta say I’m not sure if I should be worried or impressed.” He kept his eyes focused on John as he spoke. “We got the toxicology report, the amount of poison in your system should have been enough to kill a man in a couple minutes. Yet here you are three days later, up and about.” Ellie shifted in her seat but said nothing. “The only way I see this being possible is through years of tolerance buildup.” The doctor sends John into the next room get another sample of blood. After John exits, he shoots a quick glance at Ellie. “Has John been showing any symptoms of depression lately? Any unusual behavior at home?” Ellie looks up horrified at the notion. “No no of course not! He’s the same wonderful man I married 8 years ago!” The doc begins to straighten up his notes. “I’m ma’am, I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. It’s just the amount of cyanide we fou-“ Ellie jumped up, sweating profusely. “Did you say cyanide...oh god...oh god.” At that moment, John retuned, and seeing his wife almost on the verge of tears, rushes to her side. “Woah woah! What happened!?” She was muttering an apology over and over. John stares at the doctor, a mix of confusion and anger on his face. The doc returned his gaze with one of worry. “John, I’m not quite sure how to say this.” He stands up and puts a hand on John’s shoulder. “I think your wife has been trying to poison you with cyanide.” John stares at him, then at his wife, still apologizing with her hands covering his face, and he began to laugh. Ellie and the doctor stared at John, more than a little disturbed at his reaction. When he finally calmed down, he hugged his wife and explained. “Now it makes sense, my wife bakes a lot of desserts at home, and her favorite ingredient to bake with are cherries.” It began to dawn on the doctor what was going on. “I always thought the baked goods came out a bit crunchy, I don’t think your supposed to crush the pits in as well!” Ellie’s face turned a shade of crimson so deep, she looked like a large cherry herself. She looked deep into johns eyes and stammered, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I swear I-“ but at this John kissed his wife passionately, the doctors ears turning a shade pink in the moment. “Honey, you love me enough to make cherry flavored baked goods every day for the past 8 years, and all you’ve done is made me stronger!” John thanked the doctor for his time, gave Ellie one more kiss, and headed for the door. “How about an apple pie tonight for a change love?”
Sorry if the story was a bit messy and rushed, I’m writing on my phone during lunch break, hope you enjoyed. | Mr. Don sat in his comfortable chair as he watched the young couple; a man who had a slightly pale face and a woman with silky hair who wore a very stiff smile was sitting right in front of him.
“Truly interesting…” Mr. Don exclaimed as he shook his head. The examination didn’t have any problem as he let the patient take it twice. Although it was weird, he had to accept his patient had an amazing immune system.
“Were you taking medicine?” Mr. Don asked as he read the patient’s report again.
The pale-faced man sat frozen in his chair for a while.
“No.”
It was his wife, a young woman who held his brown handbag tightly, that answered the question.
Glancing at this graceful girl, Mr. Don couldn’t help but frown slightly. Although she appeared calm, he was a veteran doctor who had years of experience in this hospital. For some reason, there were a lot of patients who lied to his face. He was used to this. So, he had a guess… No, he knew. This young woman was hiding something!
As Mr. Don thought carefully whether he should ask more or not. His patient suddenly spoke to his wife.
“Ah? Jane, what is wrong? You look odd.” The man asked with surprise. Although he was a bit sick, he naturally detected his wife’s sweaty face. Now that he thought about it, she was also like this since this morning? The morning he was poisoned? His heart sinking, a horrifying thought emerged on his mind. Could it be she was also poisoned?
The young woman smiled weakly as she answered.
“I knew this day would come eventually.”
“What?” asked the husband, looking puzzled. However, instead of explaining further, she took out her mobile phone and pushed the buttons in a hurry.
Not understanding what was going on anymore, the poor man asked again. “Jane?”
Listening to the couple, Mr. Don’s face turned stiff. ‘She really knew!’
Then, a sudden thought made him sweat profusely. ‘Oh, no.. She might be dangerous!’
As he was going to reach his phone silently, he heard a knocking voice.
Then, the door opened.
“Hmm?” Mr. Don, who was not used to be interrupted in his sessions were confused as he turned to face the old man. There, an old man with gray slowly entered the room as he smiled.
“Oh? Mr. Don. Did I arrive too early?” His tired eyes flashed with confusion as he glanced at the couple.
Mr. Don who was already nervous to be on the same room with this young woman suddenly felt elated as he immediately stood up.
“You must be the next patient. Ah, let me notify the nurse.” Now that he had a reason to leave the room, he decided to call the police immediately.
As he walked past the old man, he saw something strange.
The old man who was supposed to walk out along with him was now standing still as he held something on his hand.
The old man’s arm rose up as Mr. Don finally saw the object.
A gun?
Suddenly, a flash of white light covered the room and a loud sound exploded inside!
Ears ringing, Mr. Don could merely throw himself to the ground!
Then, he saw the blood.
Right in front of him, the old man fell slowly as blood sprayed from his head!
With an ashen face, Mr. Don tried to craw backward. There, he watched the couple as they ran towards the door.
Although he couldn’t hear anything because of the painful ringing, he could see the expressions on their faces. The young man’s face was warped in shock just like himself. The young man seemed to be asking something, something important.
And the young woman... She was nothing like before as her eyes radiated coldness! With a gray gun on her hand, she dashed out of the room along with her husband.
Mr. Don who was still standing next to the bloody corpse could hear once again. There, he heard numerous other shots as he tried to find a cover in fear.
As horrifying as it could be, this day, like many others, also had an end.
\*
A few weeks later...
Mr. Don was sitting silently as he sipped his hot tea. Watching the magnificent sunrise, his mind was still on that day.
He was still curious.
In the end, the mysterious couple completely vanished before his eyes. Other than a brown bag and a dozen corpses, there was nothing left behind by them. He still wondered who they truly were.
Even after many years, he was still curious. | 2020-09-21T10:00:18 | 2020-09-21T08:06:52 | 92 | 40 |
[WP] There is a bar located between life and death. All those who died sit for their last drinks before marching onto the afterlife. Unbeknownst to them, the bartender is also the judge. Forgiveness is up to God. Retribution is the Devil's call. Judgement is given by the one who serves you drinks. | I was sat at the bar nursing a whiskey when a woman came up next to me, she ordered a shot of fireball and washed it down with a baileys.
She looked pissed.
"Murdered?" I asked her.
She shook her head.
"Nope. Jumped out a fucking window." she paused, probably just to be dramatic, before blurting out, "I wrote like, half of a pretty fucking decent story on a writing prompt on reddit, right," she gripped her glass with alarming ferocity.
"And then," she grit her teeth, *"My phone fucking died."* The glass in her hand shattered.
I scooted nervously to the next seat over as she downed another shot. | I heard the jingle of the door, and without looking- I knew she was gone. Headed on to whatever was on the other side. It's a shame- I liked talking to that one.
I looked up at Bill, and shrugged. They all go eventually. All except me.
You see, there is this bar. If you've ever heard of purgatory... it's kind of like that. Except for instead of a dark and scary place- we have this hole-in-the-wall biker bar. And instead of ethereal beings, we have Bill.
Bill is not what you'd call intimidating. He spends most of his time keeping to himself. Cleaning glassware, and listening. Listening to everyone who comes through his doors. What they order, who they talk to, what they talk about. And then Bill passes some sort of cosmic mumbo jumbo judgment- and off they go. On to whatever is next. It makes it really hard to try to flirt with anybody, I'll tell you that much. You think you're making progress and then *poof* - your sweetheart is off to eternal happiness, or wherever the fuck Bill sent them.
He tried that shit with me. Once. We talked for a long while, and he tried to send me on to the next place. I told him then - I don't do surprises. I don't need to take the gamble. I was a bar fly on Earth, and Bill makes one hell of a gin gimlet (excuse the pun). I don't know what's out there. But I know what's right here. And I can handle forever at this bar. Just me, gin, and Bill.
The door jingled again. Another new soul. Another friend to chat with. Maybe they'll order gin. | 2021-03-09T00:15:08 | 2021-03-08T23:56:05 | 35 | 13 |
[WP] 'So, doctor, I really don't know what's wrong with my human. I've given her food, water, a warm nest and some humans so that they can socialise. All the other humans are fine, it's just this one. Can you help her?' 'Well, this humans called an 'introvert' and she needs different care.' | "So, what brings you in here today?" The doctor lifts the lid off the tank to get a better look at the human inside.
"Well, I can't figure out what's wrong. See how she's curled up in the corner there?" I tap on the glass next to her, but she doesn't react. "She rarely moves from that spot. And a lot of the time, there's some kind of clear liquid leaking from her eyes."
The doctor nods as he lifts the human out of the cage. Once in his hand, she tucks her legs up against her chest once more. "Any vomiting? Or change in bathroom habits?"
"No."
"Does she have entertainment? Other humans to interact with?"
"Yeah, she has plenty of things to do." I pat the top of the human's head. She glances up at me, then lets out a whimper before turning away again. "And there are six other humans back at the house. They all seem to be fine. They all come running when I give them their pizzas. They all tippy-tap around the cage whenever I play their music. But she just stays off in the corner by herself."
"That's good." The doctor sets the human gently back into her container. "Does this behavior change throughout the day? For example, is she livelier right after she's had a chance to sleep?"
"Well, I hadn't really thought about it, but I guess so."
With a nod, the doctor gets up and steps outside the room. A moment later, he returns with a pamphlet. He sets the paper on the table in front of me: *Caring for Your Introvert.* "Introversion is somewhat rare, but not unheard of in the human population."
"Oh." My shoulders droop as I stare at the paper. "Can it be cured? Is it contagious?" I swallow hard. "Are we going to have to put her down?"
The doctor smiles. "Oh, no, it's not an illness. And it's not contagious. It simply means that you'll need to care for her a bit differently than the others. She will need a private space that others do not have access to."
"But," I glance over at my cute, helpless little human, "I thought humans are social."
"Yes, they are. But some are far less social than others." Reaching across the table, he flips the brochure open to a picture of a human. It's sitting on a mattress in a small room, smiling, and no other humans are in sight. "They all need the socialization, of course, but that socialization is also exhausting for an introvert."
"Oh."
The doctor walks away again to take something from a nearby cabinet. When he returns this time, he places a box into the corner of the tank. One side has a small window, covered by a piece of cloth. Another has a door. Then, he places a key into the human's hand.
"We're going to give her a space where she can be completely alone – a room with a key that no one else can get into without her permission. She may eventually invite other humans into that space from time to time, but only her favorites." He pats the human's head. "Oh, and when you get back home, put something comfortable for her to lie on, a small light that she can control, and a few small things for entertainment. Otherwise though, leave that room alone."
With a wrinkled brow, I look up at the doctor. "I don't know. That seems..."
I stop mid-sentence as movement in the tank catches my eye. The human stands up, key clutched in one hand as she wipes the clear liquid from her face with the other. Then, she hurries over to the small box in the corner, unlocks the door, and disappears inside.
"I believe if you let her have her alone time, she'll start to socialize with the other humans more frequently. And when she's reached her limit, she'll retreat back to her private space for a while before starting the cycle up again." Smiling, the doctor stands and starts to leave.
"Are you sure she'll be okay?"
"Yes. There's nothing wrong with her. You just have to take care of her a little differently." With a nod and a wave, the doctor disappears out of the room.
I bend down to look at the box inside the tank. "Alright, human, let's give this a try."
Suddenly, the fabric pulls away from the box's small window and the human's face appears. She sticks out a fist with one thumb raised up before letting the cloth covering fall back across the window.
"Huh." I laugh at the cute gesture. "Maybe this will work."
\--------------
r/WannaWriteSometimes |
I focus on his bright, kind eyes and think about that term. I must have read about it somewhere, as it sticks somewhere in my mind.
“Yes”, he intones slowly, “Introverts do best when they’re by themselves. They can socialize, and while they may even enjoy it, it costs them.”
I take a deep breath as I ponder this.
“Costs?” I ask.
“Yes, young one”, he says, “Think of the power cells we use in all of our devices. Even the best ones that we can make need to be recharged. When an introvert socializes with others, it costs them some…” He stops for a moment, scratching the silky-smooth hair on his forehead before continuing. “It costs them some of their energy reserves”, he concludes.
“SO socializing for them is kind of like exercise?”
“Sort of. Introverts get tired after socializing. It’s a tiredness of the mind though, not of the body. Though of course, since they are so tightly linked, it can feel as if their whole body is tired.”
“So I should put her away from all the other humans?”
“Yes, but don’t relocate her to another habitat. She needs to have her own place. Why don’t you go down there and pick out a new template for her? Hmm, let me see…”
His fingers glide quickly but gracefully over the surface of his palmpad. I see his eyes focus into their reading mode. I wish for a moment that I could do that as easily as he can, but my teachers say I need more practice.
“Yes, here’s something. It’s from the historical archives. It’s from their own past, and it’s called a farmhouse.”
The doctor links his palmpad with mine and I see the template now. I ask whether I should have this structure erected, and he nods and says I should.
I walk quickly out of the laboratory and step onto the walkway. When the destinations appear on my palmpad, I select the habitat area and hold onto the handrails that rise up.
The walkway starts moving faster, and soon I am outpacing even the animals we keep around. Soon enough though, it starts slowing and I find myself ready to step off.
I step into the control area and I select her section of the habitat zone. The large monitor comes to life and I see her. The other humans are trying to speak with her, and she is staying far away from them. She looks distressed. I give the command for the farmhouse to be built and it doesn’t take that long.
I hover my finger over the control surface and I’m about to press the button which would have the arm pick her up and deposit her there, but I think to myself a moment and decide not to. Rather, I’ll go there and do it.
There are no walkways in the habitat zone, so I have to move myself. It takes a while, but I find the door into her zone and open it. Their air is so oppressive to me that I realize I forgot to put my filter on. I reach into my pocket ant realize I forgot it. Oh well, I will get another one.
I walk over to the unit along the wall, tap the blank screen which causes it to pop to life and select a filter. It’s 10 credits and I have only 15, but I can recycle some things later so it’s no problem. I confirm my choice and I hear the customary whirring. A few moments later, the slot under the monitor opens and I take out the filter and wear it. The slot closes and I go about the business of finding my human.
I find my way to her and the others are bothering her. She sees me and looks in two ways. First mad, like she wants to strike me, but then relieved. I approach her slowly, but she comes the rest of the way and holds onto me. She squeezes me and I don’t know why. At first, I wonder if she is trying to hurt me, but I don’t think so.
I’m puzzled at this behavior, but she finally looks up at me and I see a new thing. Her eyes are leaking some substance. I am worried for her, but I decide the best thing to do is to take her away from the others. They are looking at me and saying some things, but I am too focused on the one that is clinging to me to pay any attention to what they’re saying.
I pick her up and walk away from the others. It’s not far and we get there quickly. I put her down and show her the house. She looks excited at first, her eyes light up, but then she seems sad.
We don’t communicate well with them. Our language translators have a difficult time and seem to be more trouble than they are worth. Our body language isn’t that dissimilar though, and I think I understand why she is sad.
I pull my cutter from out of a pocket, and I take her to a tree nearby. I look at her face and use the cutter to draw a representation of it. I point to her, then the crude carving, then the house a few times. I think she finally understands, and she does this thing to me. She wraps her arms around me and squeezes. I will have to ask the doctor what this means. But I allow her to satisfy herself then we walk inside the house.
A few days later, I am in the control area again. For the humans, the time passes much faster than it does for us. So she would have had several months to work. I split the large screen into several segments. I see the inside of her house. She has fresh flowers on her table and outside, she is sleeping in a chair and beside her, there’s a garden growing all sorts of plants and herbs. | 2021-04-20T08:40:19 | 2021-04-20T07:03:16 | 38 | 18 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | I’d been in line for hours. The regime had brutally destroyed the backbone of the resistance last week, and had set up these kangaroo courts to “process” the remaining prisoners.
It was all crap, anyway. They’d stolen the present and the future, and now they were all set to wipe out every remaining threat to their eternal reign. All that was left was to hoodwink them by their own systems, somehow.
Ahead, the box beeped. “Citizen Jenkins, submit your final request.” The man ahead of me grinned, triumphantly, and requested death by old age. The box beeped again, and the audience in the courtroom laughed as his flesh shriveled and he toppled over.
Well, there goes that plan. At least it was one of the less painful selections I’d seen.
We’d had lovely full-color holos to watch everyone else ahead of us, and there’d been so many deaths. The box could, apparently, function to provide any manner of death. If a prisoner tried to run, or fight, or do anything but specify, the box would default to some horrible torture that lasted less than thirty seconds and always ended the same way.
As the guards prodded me forward, a thunderbolt hit me. The box could do anything in the service of death.
Anything.
The box beeped at me. “Citizen Porthos, submit your final request.” My lips drew back over my teeth. I knew it was a wild, feral expression, that my captors were no doubt interpreting as panic, but my words were clear and controlled.
“Eight gigaton thermonuclear fireball.”
I had a fraction of a second to appreciate the absolute pandemonium that erupted in the courtroom.
Then everything ended. | Ah well shit. There goes that plan. Think Bart think. You've got time to think
of an alternative. I guess this is why they don't let people witness the
executions. Think.
"The next on the docket is Bartholomew Wright, found guilty of 5 counts of
theft, 2 counts of arson and 6 counts of assault." The judge is reading out my
list of crimes already. Crap. Think!
This is like one of those monkey paw stories. The last guy thought he could
beat it the same way I wanted to but ended up an instant old husk. The guy
before that's bright idea went from a pleasurable orgy into something I'd
rather not think about again.
"It's time buddy." The guard next to me is poking me in my back, insisting I
step forward. "Choose wisely mate, it's the last choice you ever get to make."
This is ridiculous! All this because what? I stole some cash, burnt down a
church and beat up a bunch of guys as I made my escape? Surely there's a more
reasonable sentence I could have been given?
Think.
Bah! Anything I think of will be twisted by the court and it's monkey paw. This
is hopeless! I might as well ask for something quick and painless. Instant
obliteration. Or to go in my sleep.
No. That's loser talk, I can think of a way out of this. Just think. I am
slowly walking to the dock now. There's still time to think.
"Mr Bartholomew Wright, you have been found guilty of the aforementioned crimes
and have been sentenced to death by your own choice." The judge began his
speech, I still have time, this will go on for a few moments. Think!
"It's no small feat to choose the form of your own destruction but the gods
have deemed it the fairest form of execution..." He was droning on. Maybe I
could take him out with me in a devastating explosion? No I'm not a murderer,
even in death I can't take another's life.
"For a hundred years this method has served us well and for a hundred more may
it do so. Bartholomew, your choice, keep it brief:" He holds a jade skull
towards me pointing it's fiery eyes at my own. I can't help but stare into
those eyes and see hell. I don't deserve the eternal punishment, if only I had
more time to repent more life to live and show the better part of me. If only I
had lived a better and longer-
"Life." I blurt my thought out loud, tears forming in my eyes.
`IT IS SO.` Came a thundering voice in my head. The world dissolves into white. | 2021-06-24T10:14:19 | 2021-06-24T04:09:04 | 5,663 | 158 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | The nameless waif walked forward onto the sand of the court floor, the shackles that bound her hand and foot dragging on the bloodied floor.
She tilted her head to look up at the arbiters seated so high above her, her ragged black hair falling back from her face to reveal the gaunt lines of her face - but no fear. Not even resignation. There was no emotion there at all.
“How do you want to die?” Asked the First Arbiter. They no longer bothered stating the names and crimes of their prisoners - they had all been rounded up in one of the rebel villages and put to death for the crime of being there.
“Unshackled,” she rasped, holding her wrists up to her captors. “I don’t care about the method of my death, but let me die unshackled.”
“So be it,” boomed the arbiters in unison. The chains fell away as the execution walked onto the sand.
The girl smiled widely and spread her arms, as if welcoming the sun. She seemed so much larger than the tiny hunched over waif she had appeared previously.
It was no illusion.
The teeth behind her smile grew sharper and more pointed. Her nails grew longer and hardened into talons.
The executioner stopped in his tracks and gawped in shock as the arbiters who had finally noticed her transformation attempted to end her - but it was no use. The magic had no effect anymore.
“My thanks,” she said sibilantly as giant wings sprouted from her back, “for freeing me.”
And then blood fell on the sand once more. | The line had been excruciatingly long, almost unbearably so. Prisoner number after prisoner number was called, each time slowly getting closer to the one that I held. We were given numbers at the start, much like we were just waiting in line at the DMV or at the doctor's office. If only this was as nice of a scenario. I listened to each prisoner list out how they wanted to go, most said something along the lines of what I had planned for, lethal injection. Fast and moderately painless was all I could hope for.
*Prisoner number 2754920, please step forward*. I was next, and I was bored, so rather than continue counting the audience members, I listened in on this guy's conversation with the judge.
"How do you wish to die today, sir?"
"I wish to die of old age."
I was floored, stunned. No one had said anything like that before. I watched as before my eyes he was turned into an old man, dying of old age just as he had asked. *Shit*, I thought. *We can wish for stuff like that?*
"Your wish has been granted. Carry on. Next is prisoner number 2754921, please step forward and state how you wish to die today."
I was frozen, unable to move. What do I do now? My plan crumbled before me as I watched an old man be helped out of the courtroom.
"Prisoner number 2754921, if you do not step forward, a death will be assigned to you, and I guarantee it will be less pleasant than what you have envisioned for yourself."
I felt a guard shove his gun into my back, pushing me towards the center of the court. I moved what felt like legs of lead and feet of cement, inching closer towards the marked destination. Suddenly, an idea popped into my head, a way to cheat the system, and it was as if all the weight fell off of me at once. Everyone had chosen a realistic death, but if I were to choose something unrealistic, surely magic had it's limitations.
"How do you wish to die today, young one?"
A dream I had had since a child, being a pirate and dying a way only heard in tales. "I wish to die at sea from the beast, the Kraken," I stated, stifling a laugh.
"Your wish has been granted. Next is prisoner number 2754922, please step forward and state how you wish to die today."
*I thought there were no limitations, but I was soon to find out just how wrong I was as I was led towards a door that smelled of the sea.* | 2021-06-24T05:07:39 | 2021-06-24T03:42:17 | 152 | 66 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | Ah shit. Well there goes my plan. I step over the mess of dried up bones before me. The court addressees me and ask me the same question the poor bastard before me fumbled. I start to panic my heart is racing i cant think of anything. "How much time do i have?" I ask. "I dont know dude honestly your the first to ask, lets say 5 seconds" the counsel answer. " 5 SECONDS?!" I blurt out. " cant i atleast get 5 min?" "Nah bro, then everyones gonna want 5 min, and ill be stuck here all day, i got magic shit to do" says the main councilman. " cant say i blame, well i guess can i die from an Orgasm?" I ask. "Ah shit thats actually pretty smart my guy, aight step forward ill give u a quickie behind the desk" states the pretty fit kinda Australian looking guy, im not gay but this guy looked mad handsom." Idk man im not gay, i dont think ill be able to get it up infront of you." I say. " Oh no worries mate, i know magic." The man says as he transforms into a marho robbie type. "Actually if you can shapeshift do you mind changing into something different?" I ask. " aight bro, but you only get one more shot, what you want mate?" She asks. " i think i always wanted to die in the thighs of a big tiddied goth girl?" I say. He transforms into an average looking goth girl not really my type. " i guess i was imagining more of a scene girl actually." I say. " too bad bro, u get wut u get." She says. " ah shit, well can you go back to margo robbie then?" I ask. "Nah bro YOU GET WHAT YOU GET." she states." Well that sucks" i say as i walk behind the desk. I get a meddiocre handy and die to one of the most disappointing nuts in my life. RIP | "I would like to die of old age"
I froze, as those words resonated in my head, the realization that his nape would be the last I see of him quickly sinked in.
"*Why...?*" I murmured. Why would he do that? He's not that gullible as to think the Supreme Court of Wizardry would let him get away with that, he's the mastermind behind it all, for Merlin's beard! He's the one who found out about the breach in the treaty, the muggle camps in Stirling, he convinced us, led us, believed in us... We were so close to rid the world of that noxious titan of a minister, just that one droplet would have been enough...
​
"Then, without further ado, for crimes against the Ministry, organising an uprising and for the theft of the sacred first titan Olaf's blood, we hereby sentence you to death, by old age, as requested." the judge's voice exploded through the hall.
His hair started losing its distinct red colour, exposing more and more patches of his scalp. Some weird black marks could be seen behind his curls.
I can barely contain my tears, I would've given everything for this man, as I'm sure he would've done for me also. He called me by his name, and yet this pitiful sight of him is all that's left...
​
Some commotion could be heard in the otherwise silent chamber of the jury, as a minute man hurried through the crowd, causing turmoil. His wacky moustache really didn't fit the vexed expression painting his face, neither did his voice tone, as it echoed through the room, trying to sound solemn.
"Know that we will find Olaf's blood! Your existence will be notorious through the whole continent as nothing more than pointless, so wipe that smirk off your face!"
"*He's... smirking?"* Of course he'd be smirking... even facing death under the spiteful noses of these disdainful aristocrats his spirit wouldn't break. I look back at him, as I struggle to accept my own fate myself, and right there, right in front of me is the answer. Tattooed on the back of his head is an encrypted message, calibrated exactly to work on my lenses!
I'm once more shook, as his body begins falling apart, I can't stop my tears, nor my gratitude, he really did give me everything in the end. The dust settles, and I make up my mind, looking up.
"The choice is yours." finally the judge's sight lands upon me, scrutinizing me, digging deep into my soul. I concede him little time however, as my leader's last words paint a clear picture in my mind, I spout my answer loud and clear.
"I wish to stab myself with the dagger resting on my desk at home!"
​
"So be it."
​
*A droplet of Olaf's blood is enough to rid a titan of their life, and grant a human a second one. He was half human.* | 2021-06-24T10:16:46 | 2021-06-24T09:19:00 | 56 | 12 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | "Death by Hubris!" I proclaim with a self satisfied smile.
"Hubris," the officiant responds, dryly. "That is your choice?"
"Exactly," I say, grinning at the old fool's expression. "Like in the tales. A hero is given a challenge, some trial to overcome. It's of course, not inherently impossible, but the hero fails and dies due to some human flaw, or other." I look about the room. Surely, the others in attendance must see my genius. Instead, I am greeted by the bored faces of a dozen odd functionaries, clearly unaware that they were witnessing the historic defeat of their ancient court.
"Very well," the leader of the group intoned, lifting his staff, and striking the marble floor. "Death by Hubris."
"You idiots!" I exclaim as the ruling is finalized. "Can't you see what you've done? You've made me immortal!" I start laughing, exalting in the ease with which I'd defeated the law. "You cannot kill me!" I continue, as they needed to understand my accomplishment. "I am keenly aware of my abilities, and unfailingly cautious. Even for this decision, I pondered for _years_ as you struggled to catch me! There is no challenge you can set me to where _I_ will be my downfall! I-"
I cut off, collapsing to the floor. Apparently, it had been hubris to believe I could survive this trial. | Well shit. There went my plan. Looks like old age is not a way out of it when they can rapidly age you before the assembled court. I had to come up with something amazing if I wanted to survive this execution. To be fair I probably did deserve this, I had killed a few (dozen) people in rather brutal fashion. Deserving something and wanting it however are not the same thing. I deserve to die but I want to live, who knows, maybe if I can find a way to keep myself alive they'll have chance to rehabilitate and release me. If only I could live as long as the stars! WAIT!!! I know exactly what to say...
It's not me just yet, one more to watch die. Poor thing looks even younger than I do, she's maybe 18, so innocent looking. "Mariah Zell, you have been convicted of two counts of murder in the first degree, evidence tampering, desecration of a corpse via necrophilia and cannibalism" ... my mistake, not so innocent "the sentence for which is death, how do you wish to die?"
"Choking on the flesh of a newborn babe, the child I never should have borne." She spat and hissed at the judge like an angry cat and the man's eyes went wide and just for a moment I thought he would deny her request, shocking as it was, especially being as her son had been who she had cannibalised. She had not eaten much, just a little of his leg, before her boyfriend had arrived home and caught her. He'd called the police before she'd killed him and had been found using his corpse as a grotesque sex toy.
But of course not, no judge may deny a method of death no matter how disgusting. Instead the judge granted it by conjuring from the air an exact replica of the child's arm (at least, that's what it looked like to me, I never knew him), down to the birth mark. He cast upon it a spell more commonly used by assassin's to enchant food to choke the next person who ate it then passed it to her. She sank her teeth into the arm ferally. It was disturbing to see. She chewed, swallowed and gasped. It was stuck in her throat, as intended. It took her a surprisingly long time to die. Minutes, not seconds. I hope she was satisfied in giving the court a show.
My turn now.
"Eliza Warren, you have been convicted of 156 counts of murder in the first degree. The punishment is death. How do you wish to die?"
"I wish to die with the heat death of the universe" | 2021-06-24T11:15:28 | 2021-06-24T10:26:09 | 28 | 17 |
[WP] Had to say something: killing the villain wouldn't make the hero as bad as they are, no matter what anyone says! What a disingenuous claim! You simply couldn't let that slide... even though YOU are the villain the hero is agonising over killing | “What? No, that’s… that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“What?”
“As bad as m- seriously? I have unleashed plague upon dark magic upon curse upon this people. The Green Plague? That was me trying to increase my mana pool. The Walking Trees? I was trying to create mindless, obedient soldiers. I raised taxes last year for kicks and giggles. I once threw a kid with Scale Plague off a bridge because she was in my way. That was me, too, by the way. Scrying thing went way wrong and ended up with people going blind, that’s irony. And none of this affects me. I have escaped any consequences for all of that. It’s incredibly unfair. Killing me would be the very start of rectifying the balance from what I’ve unleashed.”
There was a brief pause.
“So you… want me to kill you?” he asked hesitantly.
“I mean, I’d rather you didn’t, since that would mean I’d be dead and all; but I mean, killing one person is nothing compared to what I’ve d- *hurgggk!*”
He withdrew his sword, and I collapsed to my knees, blood pooling around me.
I looked up, seeing ever so briefly in his face, a reflection—*my* reflection, from when I was thirty years younger and on the other side of the sword. “But it’s a good start.” | I actually had to stop running at that claim. I just turned to look at the guy in the gold suit and eagle emblem on his chest.
"Okay that is just so wrong." I held up my hand as the blue boy scout landed. "You hold up a minute too. I have to get this off my chest."
Turning back to the newbie. "Look a no kill rule or guide line is nice and noble. It does set you apart from common vigilante and in the hero leagues. Murder a fleeing suspect is really bad, no question. So is killing with out trying alternatives." Okay I was pacing now.
"But killing may be your only option. This is not a kill because the bad guy will get out again. Not for revenge. Those *do* lessen you. But sometimes a bad guy is there and there is no clean answer. No safe take down. If a bad guy is about to kill a hostage then you take down the bad guy. As long as it never becomes easy, you don't instantly become as bad as that person. Good and evil are not sides of a coin. Not even black and white or any other polar opposite you want to use.
As glitter boy looks confused at me. "So you want me to kill you?"
I think the amazon and I face palmed at the same time. "No you idiot. I am not an imminent danger so you do not have justification. But to just say never kill is going to get you into trouble. Okay look at it this way. See big blue eyes there? He has no rule about not killing. Why? Because he is a good man. Good men don't need rules. His friend in black with the grappling hook. HE has a rule about killing. You do not ever want to find out why he has so many rules. He follows a no killing rule so he can stand to look at his reflection. But even he is wrong that if he had to break that rule he would be as bad as the worst mass murderer."
Good he is thinking. I watch as he looks to the other heroes. "So why stop to tell me all this?"
"Because the heroes that can afford to never kill are tough or skilled enough that it is rarely used against them. Someone like you spouting that off will be lead into a trap or simply gunned down. You don't get a police funeral for something like that. There is a quiet notification to your next of kin. From your age I am betting your mother. You want to fight crime go for it. But don't be stupid!" | 2022-05-07T19:10:31 | 2022-05-07T19:02:45 | 49 | 30 |
[WP] People don't really know what your power is but nobody wants to find out, your presence feels like a mountain, your glare radiates dread and dozens of metres around you is saturated with a palpable aura of power. Truth is however, that is all you can do | Mortimer Palmer sat there, still as a statue. It was enough for everything else around him to shrivel—physically, mentally, and metaphorically.
Mere humans backed away with leaden feet, simply unable to comprehend the aura that rolled off of him. It held him like an overprotective blanket three sizes too big, causing a shimmer in the air, like rolling sheets of lava erupting from a volcano. Colour seemed a little duller around Mortimer, hiding themselves so that they wouldn’t draw the attention of his keen eyes. And the plants would have loved to uproot themselves and ran away, but instead settled for their leaves trembling in fear.
“I just want a friend,” Mortimer whispered, words lost on the passage of winds. It was a simple wish for most mortals.
Unfortunately, Mortimer was not most mortals.
He could do what mortals did. Eat food. Drink water. Live. Probably die sometime in the future. But the difference was his power—an omnipresent aura that presents him as omnipotent, though he was anything but.
Mortimer, therefore, wandered the world. Nobody dare to stop him anyway. All he could hear was faint whispers wherever and whenever he walked. They served as his true herald, announcing his appearance miles before he set foot anywhere, but were really his true annoyances, a following pigeon that emptied its bowels only at the most inappropriate of times.
Mortimer tried and learned to shut them out. He really did. But being an otherwise normal human, he found himself wanting to listen to them, an entirely irrational decision that served only to make him miserable. So he did, again and again, over and over.
And he repeated his wish, as well: “I just want a friend.”
Mortimer sat far away from civilization today, on a log that saw better days a decade ago. At least grass didn’t chatter needlessly. He repeated his own mantra, trying to manifest it into reality. For his powers had to do something, right?
“I find people who say that don’t often get the desired result.”
Mortimer looked up, seeing a sprightly young woman staring at him. She looked… normal.
“Couldn’t help but notice you were being a little gloomy here,” she chuckled. “What sort of big scary powers do you have?”
“Nothing,” Mortimer said softly. “The aura. It shows nothing. It is hot, empty air.”
“The rumours are wrong, then,” she said, taking a seat next to him, causing Mortimer to shuffle uncomfortably.
“Rumours?”
“That you are some evil being looking to destroy the town,” she said, lifting her legs in the air. “Because if you were, you would already have done it. That tends to be my experience with evil things.”
Mortimer appraised the girl once more, who turned and smiled gently. She looked normal. Far too normal.
“You are… colourful,” Mortimer realized. “You aren’t affected by me?”
“Power drainer Grace,” she smiled again. “It just stops powers for a while. But everybody loves to think that I’m stealing them. Isn’t that funny?”
“It sounds… lonely,” Mortimer said.
“As do yours. But you look like a regular ol’ gloomy raincloud to me, buddy,” Grace said cheerfully. “Not the big scary monster everybody sees.”
“Ah,” Mortimer said, then fell silent.
The girl basked in the quiet for a while as well, before eventually poking Mortimer in the thigh.
“Aren’t you going to ask?”
“Ask what?”
“The thing you’ve been saying. Again and again. If I do say so myself, I feel like we are kind of a good fit. Maybe we can walk into town not as pariahs, but as two normal people.”
Mortimer sniffed, trying not to let the tears fall out of his face.
“I’ll like that very much,” he said. “Will you be my friend?”
“But of course,” Grace’s crystal clear laughter rang through the woods, before being eventually joined by Mortimer’s more guttural guffaws.
Both perfectly normal expressions of happiness.
---
r/dexdrafts | The Saint Sava Temple, with its bottom-of-the-pool turquoise domes, stood encumbered by tourists with their smartphones and kitschy t-shirts. It was deserted.
"A vengeful spirit has made it its home," said a bread-necked barkeep who sold rakija, slivovitz, and little girls run away from their mothers. He grumbled about the lack of patronage and Borjan recognized in his eyes the attempt to suppress the feeling of drowning, the feeling that the breath of life had left one's side after years of intimate friendship. Such was the effect Borjan had on people.
It has been said that the Belgrade University Library, named after the great Svetozar Marković, would flood its halls with carbon dioxide were a fire to break out, suffocating flames and readers alike. Borjan assumed this to be a myth though the idea had occurred to him that he might play a prank, that he might enter the library with a lit candle and release a deathly scream. The visitors would no doubt take their sense of primal fear to be an effect produced by gas and it would take hardly any time at all for mass hysteria to grip every single person inside; even the librarians who ought to know better.
"It's an aždaja," said Borjan.
"A dragon?" The barkeep clearly wanted to laugh, but something inside him prevented it. Borjan produced a tension that could not be relieved by laughter. "Why do you say it's a dragon? Surely it's an atheist who lived a life of sin. It must be a shock, to a godless man, to see that he has been mistaken. So he haunts the Sava out of bitterness. That's my guess."
Even while subduing his presence to the best of his abilities, the faint traces that escaped Borjan were enough to render the face of the barkeep pale and laced with dread. "No," said Borjan. "It is an aždaja. It has come for you."
The barkeep squinted at Borjan, his fish-like eyes almost retracting into their sockets. "For me? And just why would a dragon come for me?"
"Perhaps," said Borjan, "the aždaja enjoys the taste of sinners." With this, Borjan let go of the blanket he had wrapped himself in, let go of the dam that kept his sinister aura from overflowing, and he let it all wash over the man before him.
With a shrill cry, clutching his off-white shirt as if it were a lifejacket, the barkeep leapt into the air. He crashed into the shelves of bottles behind him and awash in rakija he fell shivering to the dirty floor. From the immediate smell it was apparent that though he was now frozen with fear, the barkeep's bowels had evacuated. "Ohhhh," he moaned, clutching at his lonely strands of hair. "Ohhhhh ..."
"What's the matter?" said Borjan. "Has the aždaja come for you?"
In a quiet tone almost inaudible, the barkeep said, "Help me. You were right. It's here for me."
"You can feel it?"
"I can feel it."
"Good," said Borjan. "That means that the dragon has begun its feast."
A catatonic wailing ensued and Borjan helped himself to a bottle of slivovitz. When he was little, Borjan's mother had read him and his sister stories of aždajas such as the many-headed Chudo-Yudo. During one reading session he had asked his mother if dragons were real and she had grown quiet, taking her time to find an appropriate reply, and in the end she said simply, "Yes."
Borjan had spent weeks in the Saint Sava Temple, the favorite place of his sister. It was where she wanted to get married. Her childhood sketches littered her old bedroom, now tear-stained. One day, he had heard a rumor in the temple. About a barkeep with various ... proclivities.
"Help me ..."
"Oh, help is coming. Death is of great help to a sinner."
The barkeep clutched his chest as his face shifted blue, blue like the unrelenting skies above. Then he was silent. Borjan struck a match and thought about the library, about suffocating flames. And with that he set fire to the man.
Back in the Saint Sava Temple Borjan sat down on an old wooden bench and concentrated on regaining control over his overpowering presence.
"Can you feel that?"
"W-What's going on?"
The tourists and churchgoers who had arrived during a moment of peace and quiet again sensed the remains of Borjan's aura.
"Haven't you heard? It's a vengeful spirit."
Borjan turned his head. "It's an aždaja," he said.
They stared at him, clearly puzzled.
"Leave him," said one of them. "Can't you smell the alcohol on him? Clearly he's a drunkard."
Borjan closed his eyes, and he smiled. His mother had been right. Dragons were, in fact, real. | 2022-06-24T12:11:43 | 2022-06-24T09:21:52 | 240 | 57 |
[WP] It amazes you that the Elf waitress who works at your restaurant is the same one as when your grandparents first started the business. The Elf can't believe she's still stuck in the same dead-end job for nearly a 100 years and has to keep dealing with your family. | "Hi Myrna", I said as I settled into my usual corner booth, arriving at the end of morning rush. "I'll have the usual."
Myrna was diligently writing on her order pad, with a spare pencil stuck behind her pointed ear. She glanced up and asked with a sigh, "Would you like to add hash browns to that? Only a little bit more."
"Not today Myrna, just the pancake special. Are you still making that goldenberry syrup? It's magical."
She paused for a second, smoothing her stained uniform, its original pink obscured by unknown years of diner breakfasts. With an almost imperceptible grimace she said "No, we are out. We just have the standard Maple. It's really good. Want berries too?"
I sipped my coffee for a moment, not wanting to keep her waiting long. She started tapping the menu with her pencil, a sign for me to hurry up and finish. "Sure. That's it for now. But Myrna, could you come back and discuss dessert options?"
She nodded, her eyes downcast, sad as she turned away to put in the order. I watched her move around the diner, navigating the bustle of a busy morning with practiced ease. But something seemed off. Normally she was cheery and social, but today she just went through the motions.
In a little while, she arrived back, arms laden with plates and containers. "Here's your pancakes, with extra Maple syrup. I also added some butter, hope you like it. Now, what was that about dessert?"
"Let me eat first, Myrna! My grandfather always said a waitress named Myrna wanted to serve people fast."
Myrna stared at me, her eyes going blank, pointed ears drooping. With a catch in her voice she tried to say something, failed, tried again, then turned around and walked away. I could see her shoulders drooping and thought I heard a sob.
Looking back at the pancakes, I paused. She'd arranged the berries to write "100". And then I paused again. Grandpa. My grandpa had stories of Myrna working at the diner. Myrna. The names matched. Elf ears. I had never made the connection. Elves are (almost) immortal. Was this the same Myrna?
I looked up and saw her standing in the corner, outstretched arms bracing herself against the walls. The morning rush being over, there were only a few people left in the diner, all going about their morning routine and conversations. No one was looking at her.
Scooting out from the table I walked over, and from a respectable distance asked in a soft voice, "Myrna, are you ok? Can I help?"
For a moment she didn't move, then turned her face to me, green eyes streaked with grimy tears. "My mentioned your Grandpa. I... knew him."
For a moment I lost the connection I'd made. Confused I asked, "My grandpa? He died over 50 years ago, how could you know him?" Then I remembered she was an elf. "Oh..."
Myrna brought a fist to her eye, wiping away tears. With a choking laugh she said "Yes, I knew him. I'm an elf, remember? We live a very long time." After wiping another tear, she continued. "I knew him very well. Very, very well. I've been here, 100 years today, because of him, just so I could see his descendants."
And she looked up at me, fully in the face for the first time, with her sad green eyes and pointed ears. "Just so I could see you, grandson."
Suddenly I didn't want dessert anymore. | Family's Guardian
Going over the store's finances makes him all the more grateful he got approved for those college grants. He can't imagine having been able to afford going to school otherwise. Nevertheless, it all worked out and he survived the time he had put into getting an accounting degree. It just really puts it all in perspective, looking over the books now.
"Geez, Pops. How have you kept this going for so long?" The numbers are barely coming out in the positive. He goes through the expenses and liabilities, trying to find places they may be able to cut costs.
"Where's the..." He flips through several pages to find what he is looking for but doesn't come across it. He flips back to his journal of passwords and logins to find the banking info then logs into the account online. The information shows up, reflecting off of his glasses as he scrolls through the numbers. He looks back through the payment history seeing the balance due and the note, "Paid in Cash" next to every mortgage payment. He goes back to his books but can't find any reference of a mortgage balance paid or due. He sighs, then leans back and rubs at his forehead. "Where's this money coming from?"
A knock at the door has him sit up abruptly. He looks to the clock on the wall, 7:40 PM. It's way past office hours. *Who could be here now*, he wonders. Opening the door reveals a tall, petite elf with gold-blonde hair. "Isabelle? What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk," she says simply. "May I come in John?"
John rubs at the back of his head then turns, pulling the door open further. "Please. Have a seat." She sits in the chair opposite his desk as he takes his own seat. "So, Izzy...what brings you here at this hour?"
"I know what you're looking into, John."
"Excuse me?"
"The mortgage payments. I know where this is all going, and I'd like to keep this between us. None of you should actually know of this but I know you are astute and you'll no doubt find out eventually."
"Ugh, forgive me Izzy. I'm a bit at a loss as to what you're getting at, but you've been with my family forever. You can speak plainly. You're basically one of the family after all. And if you wish it, whatever this is can stay between us."
She sighs then nods. "Thank you, John. To be frank, I've been paying the mortgage payments for past 30 years."
"What? Why? How? and Why?"
She sighs again. "What you're not supposed to know is that your family is my charge. Me and mine have been looking out for you and your family for generations. Some thirty years ago, your father couldn't keep up with the interest on the restaurant, so he quit paying it all together. For a long time, he worried that they would foreclose on the restaurant at any moment, but that day never came. Eventually, he stopped worrying and returned to focusing his energy on the restaurant again. In time, he forgot about it all together. To be honest, I have been waiting on your great family to be able to stand on its own again. I know that time is not now, but I believe that you will change all of that."
John slumps, sinking deeper into his chair. "Wow, Izzy. That's a lot to take in." She nods. "I suppose, thank you is in order."
"Please. That's not necessary."
He nods. "Ok, so where do we need to go from here?"
"That's up to you John...and no, I'm not magic."
"Wait...did I ask that?"
"No, but you were about to." She winks. John smiles. She stands to leave and John stands with her. "Thank you, John."
"Oh gosh, I hope you haven't done that all my life."
"It's fine. Boys will be boys after all." John turns red, then he sighs.
"That's a bit embarrassing. I'll have to be sure to keep my mind out of the gutter in the future."
"You've grown into a fine man, John. Your family is in good hands."
"Thanks Izzy. I'll get this all sorted out and try to take some of the pressure off of you."
She nods and he closes the door behind her. Returning to his chair, he takes off his glasses to rub at his eyes. "Hmph, who'd of thought. Our Izzy...a mind reading, magical elf." He smiles then returns to going over the books. | 2022-09-26T20:03:59 | 2022-09-26T12:03:35 | 95 | 33 |
[WP] Earth is actually a colony of an intergalactic empire. Humans are widespread throughout the galaxy, and one day, we establish contact with our homeworld. | “Uh, Sir? We have something coming up alongside, “said the nervous Lieutenant.
The Captain looked up from *The Travels of Marco Polo* on his hand holo.
“Could you please repeat that, Lieutenant?” the Captain said, tilting his head and looking over the top of his glasses.
The Captain sat in the highest chair at the center of the bridge, both at a distance from, and occupying a position of authority too, the numerous crew positions surrounding him. Most of the stations were empty and powered down, colonization tools rendered useless while the ship crossed the great gulf between stars. The screens and instruments were to remain that way until they arrived in orbit over the second planet of the Tau Ceti system at the end of their journey, humanities first gigantic leap from the cradle of Sol into the great stellar beyond.
There was one station that would remain active and manned at all hours of the 36 month ship time voyage. It was behind this console, which monitored and corrected the ship’s course, that the young Lieutenant sat, and to which the Captain directed his full attention.
“There’s an object out there, Sir. Fifteen hundred kilometers and closing,” the Lieutenant repeated, his training kicking in as he buried himself in the read outs pouring from his instruments, “We have fifteen minutes to intercept. Maybe it’s a stray rock?”
The Captain had pulled up the sensor feed on his own station, “That seems unlikely. We’re traveling at 0.8 Cee. It’s hard for me to believe natural phenomenon could bring a rock up to that velocity. Either way, sound general quarters and emergency acceleration alarm, allow fifteen seconds for bracing, then fire the drive and see if we can get out ahead of this thing.”
“Yes Sir,” said the Lieutenant as he flipped several switches.
Alarms began to blare and a red light began to strobe across the bridge, just as the Captain knew must be happening throughout the ship. He reached up to his chest and tightened his restraints as the Lieutenant began counting down.
“3…2…1…Mark!” called the Lieutenant as both he and the Captain were pushed back into their seats by the main drive’s 2 g’s of acceleration.
After a moment the Lieutenant cut thrust and both of the bridge’s occupants were again in freefall.
“Did we out run it?” asked the Captain.
“Negative Captain, I cut thrust went I saw the object was correcting its trajectory and maintaining an intercept. Five hundred kilometers to closest approach.”
The Captain was visibly shocked, “*Maintaining intercept?*”
A sudden burst of light filled the bridge, and when it dissipated, there was a young woman, dressed in a white formal gown standing on the bridge.
It took a moment for the Captain to realize that he was no longer in freefall. He was about to comment on that to the Lieutenant when the visitor spoke.
“Hello, and welcome back into the fold,” the young woman said with a warm smile, “Our records show that your branch of humanity has been out of contact for approximately six thousand natural span generations.”
The Captain and the Lieutenant sat in silence. Both rendered speechless more by the woman’s sudden appearance than by her message.
After a minute, and with the strange newcomer still throwing out her disarming smile, the Captain croaked, “B-back into the fold?”
“Yes!” the woman’s smile somehow intensifying, “Humanity is in fact a galactic civilization with a rich cultural history stretching back almost 150,000 natural span generations. First contact between a colony and the rest of Humanity is initiated upon the colonies first interstellar voyage. Initial contact is withheld to allow unique cultural germination at each colony, preventing stagnation of the whole. Contact has been simultaneously carried out with your world of origin, allowing for time dilation effects, of course.”
The Captain took a moment to absorb this information. He glanced down at his book, and then at the woman’s smiling face. A face that had come from beyond the stars to welcome him home and tell him he was too late. He wasn’t going to be one of humanity’s first. He was one of our last.
He looked around the bridge, a true feat of human ingenuity and vision.
“Such a waste,” he said, saddened by the loss of his dream, crushed by this monumental discovery.
The woman smiled again, “We know how you must feel. The human spirit for exploration is universal, and one of our most treasured virtues. Our analysis of this ship shows it to be capable of colonization. You may not be Humanities greatest step, but would you like to be its next?”
| It was just like any other Thursday in November; I had just come home from a long day at work. Julia and I had just had a falling out a few weeks ago, it got to the point where she took all of her stuff and left in a fit. I don’t think that we were really meant for each other anyway. It still felt odd to be the only one in my apartment, but it felt nice, quiet was something I had forgotten about long ago. I pulled my nice filet mignon out of the plastic grocery bag, it was a celebratory steak. Hell, Julia never liked red meat anyways. I turned on the TV and it was on CNN. It was about some sort of Area 51 bullshit.
“All of these media outlets need to get a grip on reality.” I grumbled.
I was interested in space since I was about 17, to the point where my job throughout college was working at FERMILAB. I always knew that there were aliens somewhere in the universe, but I knew if first contact happened today, we would not be ready in the slightest.
I went outside to my balcony to start my grill up; I noticed that the wind had picked up a lot since I left work. It was probably a change in pressure systems, nothing to worry about. It was a nice temperature outside, to the point where you only have to wear one coat and maybe a hat.
I went back inside only to hear the Emergency Broadcast System noise blaring out of the speakers in my sound system. I went up to the sliding glass door to see if I could see any sort of funnel cloud near me, but I couldn't see anything. I then heard a voice come out of the TV saying,
“Stand by for a message from the President of the United States.”
My ears perked up and I moved closer to the TV,
“My fellow Americans, it is my duty to warn the public if we are in any sort of danger, some of you who have been watching the news recently have seen what this is about. I am here to say that the news’s allegations are completely true. My panel of scientists has stated that we have been hailed by another being other than humans. The message was transmitted yesterday evening, November 19th, 2014. The message was stated in every spoken language including all of the different dialects of our Earth. We are not aware as to whom these beings are, or what they want, but I ask you to stay calm. From their message I can say that they are peaceful and that…”
The screen fizzled out and went black. I looked at my phone and my FERMI collogue had sent me numerous texts,
“Turn on your TV!”
“Can you believe this?!”
“They really do exist!!”
The screen frizzled and a strange noise came out of my speakers, then a video feed came up. It was a human man, with a weird hairstyle and odd clothing.
“Hello, my name is Ardeer Gresean. I am human like all of you, but I was not born on your Earth, I was born on a planet called Morata on the other side of the Milky Way Galaxy. You humans are not alone here on Earth, but you are part of something much bigger. Just within the Milky Way there are a little over one trillion humans. I have traveled here to say that we mean you no harm, instead we ask for your help against a common enemy. Please listen to your leaders and stay calm. We would have come later, when you were ready, but something bad is coming to our home, the Milky Way…”
Ardeer kept talking about where he came from and how the human race was part of an intergalactic empire. I then saw that I had an incoming call from Julia,
“ Julia, I…” I stated while still watching the TV in awe
“Save it, Zach. I still love you, but right now I am very scared. I am coming over to your place, I’ll be there soon.”
Julia hung up the phone; she must have already been driving to my place when she called. I still didn’t know what to think about all of this. Why wouldn’t they tell us about themselves or who we humans as a whole are?
Ardeer was still speaking on the TV, I wasn’t really listening but I heard him talking about why they picked Earth as our planet and other things along those lines, then I heard a huge boom shortly followed by windows shattering and car alarms going off, I look outside to see a huge ship hovering above the city skyline, it was the largest things I had ever seen in my life, it was about the size of 9 or 10 aircraft carriers just floating in the sky.
I went back inside to hearing the sound of keys jingling by my front door. I went to open it and there she was, Julia was pale and she was shaking.
“I-I just don’t know w-what to do Zach.” She babbled out as she started to cry.
She hugged me to the point where it was hard for me to breath.
We went into the living room to listen to Ardeer speak,
“…and that is why different religions exist. I have just received a confirmation that every human on Earth is tuned in and listening to what I am saying now. There is one human that we need to help us stop our enemy from destroying the Milky Way, his name is Zach Moseberry.”
My stomach sank, what could I possibly have that could save the fate of one trillion human lives and the Milky Way galaxy? So I did what I knew best, I took my steak and put it on the grill. I was about to have a very long day.
| 2014-11-20T23:44:00 | 2014-11-20T16:55:22 | 37 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | You want an interview ? Fine, but you're buying the coffee. I'm getting kind of sick of this god-damned urban legend. I DON'T have superpowers, no-one has superpowers. There are just a bunch of crazy people who think they have powers, who for some reason have decided that I'm some fucked up version of their messiah.
**You don't believe super-powered people exist ?**
No. I've never seen one. I've seen the doctored footage from the media. I've seen a lot of crazy people who thought they had powers. I don't know why they gravitate to me of all people. I'm just a regular guy. I put in my hours in the office, then at the gym.
**So you haven't heard about the ranking system ?**
Oh, I've heard of their ranking system all right. That's all I ever hear. What baffles me is why they chose me to be their number one, their highest rank. That the only way for people to rise in rank and become more powerful is to kill them. Does that sound sane to you ?
Then one day, some poor bastard commits suicide near me, and suddenly, they decide that I'm the number one on their hitlist.
**You are referring to the death of the Human Jet as suicide?**
Man faceplants on the ground from a hundred feet, that's suicide. It doesn't matter that he said "Up Up and Away" before he jumped off that building. That was suicide.
**The Human Jet was one of our greatest heroes, with documented evidence of his powers..**
Blah Blah Blah. I've heard that all before. I was there, I saw him hit the ground. Where the hell do you people in the media get off encouraging these people. They are a danger to themselves. Surely you must have learned your lesson after Inferno Man.
**Inferno Man was a criminal, whose control over fire rendered him a threat to the world...**
Bullshit. Let me tell you what happened when I met this so called inferno man. I was just hanging out in a cafe not far from here, when this asshole shows up in a stupid costume. He bursts in, and gives this long speech about how he's going to kill me and burn everything down.
Then nothing happened. He stood there for like five minutes, straining, and glaring at me. I don't know what I did, I just wanted my cup 'o' joe. Then he leaves, and I thought "That was weird, I'm glad it's over".
Then he comes back, with a barrel of gasoline. Who the fuck would sell him gasoline. that's beside the point. The point is that the fucker doused himself in the stuff, and then pulled out a lighter and set himself on fire. Right in front of me. Hearing him scream almost put me off my coffee.
**Yes, quite a lot of superpowered villains have died under similar mysterious circumstances in your presence**
If by superpowered people, you mean insane people, then yes. The numbers of clowns in capes who drop out of the sky near me is so bloody annoying. Not to mention the scrawny fucks who just straight up try to pick fights with me.
Oh god, there was one which was genuinely funny.
This guy came up to me with this long speech about how he is one with nature, and that he will use all of his power to destroy me. I don't know why these guys always gotta speech at me. When I punch someone, I punch'em, I don't tell 'em my life story.
He had this tiger with him. Big fucking cat. He told the tiger to get me. Moment the muzzle was off, it savaged him. I fucking split my sides.
**So you don't think you have any superpowers at all ?**
Course not. Like I said *nobody* has superpowers. At least not that I've seen, not when they're around me. | The vast doors of my mansion opened wide, and a man in a royal gown entered the room. For a fleeting moment, I showed a slight smile, but it faded before he could see it. He, however, could not hold back his expression, full of furious rage. He had just taken a few steps in before he yelled out: "Vantalana, how can you do this to me!"
"Number Two, are you dissatisfied with me?"
"Stop f*cking with me V, you know what this has cost me."
I was glad I could contain my smile, for the bored expression I was showing antagonized him further. "So what are you going to do about it." That was when I suddenly started to pay attention to him. Anyone with any common sense could tell I was baiting him, but Henry Gothaul was too angry to notice. He was falling right into my trap.
"I challenge you," he pointed his finger glaringly at me. It took a remarkable amount of will to not snicker in return, "to a duel!" *Gotcha!* Even he noticed the smile that spread across my lips.
"Really?" I rolled my head to the side, obnoxiously, "Number 2 thinks he can beat Number 1?" His face lit up bright red with fury; Number 2 could be so childish sometimes!
"Why you scum!" He could barely keep himself from trying to kill me right then and there, but he couldn't. He left the room loudly stomping.
Are you confused? Let me explain: In this city half of the population is gifted random powers, such as telekinesis, sensors, etc, but the rest of the population who do not are called 'muggles', and serve those privileged with power. The Privileged live in a tournament. They are ranked based on their powers, and anyone can challenge a higher rank to a duel to the death to obtain their rank. I am Number One.
No one knows my power, because the duels take place in a sealed arena. Two people go in, one comes out. Those who survive the Arena say it changes for every fight, to best mediate each competitor's power. Even the sizes of the Arena change, in spite of the laws of physics, and survivors talk about 2km wide deserts, and 400m wide urban brawls. It's all rather interesting, but no one is known to have found a way to cheat this system, at least not yet.
The familiar doors of the Arena stood before me. I remember dozens of battles, in dozens of environments. I remind myself of my plan, and smile knowing that Number Two had lost the battle the moment he took my bait.
Henry stood in front of the massive gates of the Arena. He had slain many a foe inside of its walls, and thought about the glorious combat to come. His body ached in rage towards that snake of a woman! He would crush her and take his rightful place as Number One! The only reason she was Number One and he was not was an agreement they had made, that she would keep his daughter's power secret. He knew that he was lost, that he was obsessed with the Arena and that he would die in it some day, but he did not want to curse his daughter with the same fate. And yet that b*tch failed him! She convinced his daughter to fight for her, and now she would die! The doors opened, and he shouted his battlecry at the top of his lungs: "FOR LUCY!"
Inside the arena was a small town. It seemed about a kilometer on each side, with a rural town dominating the center of the field. In the very center of town was an old church, which sounded its bells. In each corner was a small patch of woods, perfect places to hide in. As the doors closed behind him, he began to teleport wildly, searching for the infernal woman. He teleported, and there- there she was! What was she doing, just standing on top of the steeple! Surely this was some sort of trick, it was in her nature to deceive. He waited for something to happen, but she did not move. To h*ll with this! If he did nothing, he would never figure out her power! He had to probe her. He teleported behind One, swung with his battlehammer, and- nothing. It passed through her body with no resistance, and she faded away. A hologram! He immediately teleported away. So that's her power- holograms! Still, it's remarkably similar to Number 4's illusions. But then again, it's not unheard of for two people to have the same power, and One seemed like she'd be much better that Four with them anyway. As he had anticipated, though, she did not have an offensive power. She may be able to deceive him, but all he had to do was make sure that none of the holograms got close, for she would have to do so to kill him! He stood up, a terrifying smile spreading across his face, ready to hunt down Number One.
Cont. in reply | 2014-12-18T13:36:09 | 2014-12-18T13:16:53 | 996 | 47 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | No one ever realized I didn't have a power.
Number two is a telepath. I met him in a bar once, but I could feel his touch on my mind all the way down the street. It was light, I would never have felt it if he'd only been looking, but when you're used to being a pawn you learn to see when you're being played with. He wanted me in that bar, and I complied. If he was going to kill me, I couldn't have stopped him at that point anyway. I asked him in there, "Why don't you kill me? No one would stop you." He laughed, and downed the remainder of his cup. "No one wants to be first, kiddo. No one with half a shot at getting there, anyway." His knowing smile told me everything it needed to. I was a tool. A figurehead. I asked him what he wanted from me and he gave me a list of people who needed to be out of the city by next Sunday. He walked out, and I did as I was told.
When they think you're more powerful than the strongest soldiers the city state has to offer, they don't question your authority. You say something happens and it does.
Number six is an empath, though I don't think she got her number on strength of power. It's the connections that did it. She told me once she was glad that number one was a good man, or the city'd be even worse off than it already is. I'm sure I could be a bad one if I had the inclination, it's only the top hundred or so I really have to keep happy. I've just never wanted to. I asked her if that was why she'd fallen in love with me and she gave me the coldest, most dangerous laugh I've ever heard.
"You're funny," she said.
We both know damn well it's me who loves her, and we both know equally well that I have no chance. Which doesn't stop her from using me for all I'm worth.
I'm not like the rest of the ten. I didn't kill to be here. Fate crowned me king at birth, and I've yet to figure out what in God's name it was thinking.
Number four is a power thief. He's the one who illuminated the mystery of my continued kinghood for me, down beneath the earth in a room full of tiny glass bottles and too much red to be comforting. He downed one of the bottles and settled against a shelf as his body changed. Creepy, that one.
"I'm not going to cut you open and take your blood," he said with about as much care as he'd give the weather. "Do you know why?"
"Enlighten me."
"Because then I'd have to run the city. I'd have to appease Lamier and Asmar and the whole nest full of snakes. It would be a chronic waste of time, and I'd hardly be able to balance it with my own projects. No no, you can keep your seat and your secrets. We serpents wouldn't touch your job with a ten foot pole."
I am a pawn masquerading as king, a powerless man ruling the powerful, a good man with no convictions. But I am, if nothing else, an actor. If no one sees the contradictions... Well, who am I to tell that they are there? | Crime was at an all time low in the city of New Angeles. Come to think of it, so was tourism and GDP.
Some people credited this to the genius of *Genetevolve Labs* and their breakthroughs in affordable human enhancements. Although, not everyone was pleased with the results. After a session of copying and splicing, it was often several months - or even years - before a patient actually knew what they had gotten themselves into.
For example, there was Nickolette...
After several sessions, and a freak bowling accident, Nickolette had come to the realization that she was telekinetic. She came to appreciate her new-found ability, despite the lifetime ban from *Richie's Bowleramma*. Apparently Richie's insurance refused to pay for the removal of over a thousand bowling pins from the ceiling of the establishment.
Ty was Nickolette's best friend. He had completely given up on genetic therapy until after almost two-years after his last session he stumbled drunk out into a busy roadway and was nearly flattened by a semi truck. Instead, the truck was smashed into oblivion upon striking Ty and the only injury he sustained was permanently soiled underwear.
Then... then there was Larry.
"I can't believe that douchebag is ranked #1 again." said Ty, "I mean, have you ever actually seen the guy do anything?"
"He sits all day in that damn pizza joint downtown eating and drinking." she said. "Wait, I take that back, it can't be *all day* because he only wakes up at 2:00 pm."
"Last time, the asshole didn't even bother changing out of his pajamas. And did you *smell* the guy? I mean who the hell smells like that?" said Ty disgusted.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Nickolette.
"We can take him Nicky." said Ty looking over at Nickolette. "With your telekinesis, and my super strength, we could just walk right into that goddamn pizza joint and just take him down to chinatown."
"He'd never even know what hit him." she said with a whimsical look in her eye.
*One hour later at Zak's Pizza and Wings...*
"Oh shit, that's hilarious!" said Nickolette as she reached over and squeezed Larry's arm at the bar.
Ty sat on the other side of Larry and downed his second pint of beer as he slapped Larry on the back.
"Jesus that's some funny shit man, you are just too cool." he said to the overweight man with the shaggy unkempt hair, still in his bathrobe.
A man with a grimy, white shirt and loose fitting necktie approached the patrons at the bar.
"Hey guys, sorry the pizza is taking so long. I don't know what's got into the cooks lately." he said to them.
"Ah, no worries mate." said Larry, "We're in no hurry, take your time. Have another round on me guys!"
"You're too much Larry." said Nickolette.
"You know," Ty began, "my head is a little foggy but I feel like there's something we are forgetting. Like there was a reason we came down here."
"Must not have been too important,eh?" said Nickolette turning her attention back toward Larry, "So what's up with you?"
"Uh, I'm not sure what you mean love." Larry was feeling a bit creeped out at the way she was looking at him.
"You know," she was now slurring her speech, "why are you constantly ranked #1? It doesn't even look like you've had anything tweaked."
"Well," Larry was often reluctant to talk about it, but threw caution to the wind, "I dabbled around with genetic enhancement, but gave up after the results came back from the lab."
"What results?" asked Ty.
"After a few sessions, my body began to emit massive amounts of THC into the environment around me." said Larry.
"What? Holy shit, that explains so much!" said Nickolette.
"Yeah, " said Larry, "I thought about going back and tried to get them to reverse it, but... well... you know, the THC."
Suddenly Nickolette changed the subject, "I got an idea!" she said. "Let's go bowling!"
| 2014-12-18T12:44:55 | 2014-12-18T11:53:14 | 670 | 81 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely. | I pull my number from the machine that ranks us all. Shocked, I can't believe it, no one has ever had this number in all the books, movies, songs or anything. Putting away the ticket I ask people around if they had ever heard of someone having that number, careful not to reveal I had.
"Well, yeah someone has to be number 1. Can't say that I know anyone who pulled it though." Typical response. I can't believe it, I'm just a student, what was the chance of getting assigned #1. A pyrokinesis user blasts by, nearly knocking me over. I think I saw a ticket that said 998 in her hand. They're always using their powers to jet around, its a hazard and they never wear helmets. Oh well, if they get knocked out of the running then it just means someone else gets pushed up.
Dusting off my new pants, a nice middle aged man helps me up. "Damn pyros, lucky they don't burn the place down with how they fly."
"Thanks" I say, right as I notice the sign change from '999' to '001'.
A voice comes over the intercom, "Now serving deli customer one."
"Yes," I step forward, "I will take a quarter pound of chicken, a half pound of sliced honey ham, and some roast beef please." | 2014-12-18T15:23:06 | 2014-12-18T15:10:54 | 243 | 164 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | "It's been 20 years, Un," my old crime-fighting partner, Gold Grizzly, said.
"20 good years," I interjected.
"They have been good years," he agreed, "but I was saying, it's been a long time, and I still don't know your power."
"These good looks, obviously," I said with a giggle.
"Seriously," he said, "you know that if there's anyone you can trust, it's me. "
"Stop asking about this," I ordered.
"Yes, yes, of course, I'm sorry," he said in a distracted tone.
People always try to guess what power made me Number One. So far, no one has guessed that it is controlling Number Two. | I guess... My power is hard to explain. Well, not hard to define, but hard to explain the absolute vastness behind it. Everything I want, happens. Like when I was a kid, I would want an ice cream cone, and POOF! Cake batter ice cream cone, right in my hot little hand.
Let me tell you, Christmas was the most boring holiday for me as a kid.
Sure, there were times where things got a little out of hand. A bully would take a toy from me or some stupid shit. Thing is, though, I would just make another appear. No problem. Hell, A kid would hit me, and I would simply think myself better.
When you have everything, revenge just is not a topic that really matters.
Which is where the problem falls. I mean I have everything. I can get anything. I mean, where is the point? I THOUGHT world hunger out of existence. World. Fucking. Hunger. Within seconds, everyone had food--and not just any food. I thought this out. Everyone had their favorite foods, for the rest of their lives.
And just... Fuck.
people ate themselves to death. Others hoarded. Some still starved themselves. People even stole food from other people in order to control them!
I mean, what was the point? I just solved it. I solved all of it! But these people, they just don't get it. They just never did.
So here is my final thought: I want this world to die. And I want them to all know why. I want them to know that if they had just taken what I had given them, things would have been better. I want them to know that it is their fault.
Goodbye. | 2014-12-18T18:39:49 | 2014-12-18T16:03:19 | 63 | 39 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | Do you know what humans are? They are a small, bipedal creature trapped on a resource starved planet. Evolutionists would call this a typical case of a species made ruthless through internal competition. Not once in their entire existence had there been peace. Their 'civilization' began by throwing stones at 'Philistines,' and evolved to slinging lead. Yet, through this competition humans developed something beyond brutality...they developed creativity.
We're called "Greys," or at least that is what Humans called us. We had probed their planet several times, and our biologists studied them (including anatomy...I can only condone what our biologists did in their studies). We were looking for a warrior type species to help us against the fight against the Swarm. As our homeworld was besieged, we approached the humans asking for help.
Our council was afraid of giving away our weapon technology, but we were more afraid of being eaten. So, we struck a compromise where we would only give the Humans our designs for our Whirlwind FTL engines. What we were expecting was that Humans would build great ships with our engines and land on Swarm planets, just like what we had seen them do to each other. There will be a bloodbath, and two less violent species in the universe.
What we did not expect were Humans slapping our engines onto asteroids and embedding them into Swarm planets at nine-tenths the speed of light. Do you know what happens when a relativistic rock the size of a small moon hits a planet? Nothing pretty. Swarm planets fell, both warrior caste and worker caste. Nothing was spared, not even their larvae.
Just like before, the brutal Humans threw rocks. But now, they were creative about it. And now, we will reap the whirlwind we had sown. | Kyloran Estraxx straightened the tie around his right neck. As was protocol when establishing contact with new races, his ship's fabricator tailored an approximation of the style worn by that world's leader. Or leaders, in some cases. In the end, Kyloran settled for a dark blue suit and a white and red tie for each neck.
The diminutive locals bowed and smiled once again, and Kyloran returned the gesture, which sparked off even more bowing. He still had no idea why so many of them congregated on such a small string of islands, but logic--and protocol--dictated that a planet's largest city/hive/nest was often that world's capital.
He was sure this "Toh Kee Hyoh" was the right choice, even if he had to keep bowing.
One approached him and bowed. "Honoured guest, our leaders are ready to see you now."
He copied the bow but not the smile. That unnerved them. "Thank you, honoured host," he said. "Please lead the way."
He followed the local leader through several hallways under an honour guard. Most were tense, even dressed in their own suits Kyloran could sense they were ready to kill or die. It comforted him to know he had made the right choice in selecting this species.
Two servants pulled the doors back and Kyloran padded down his suit before walking in. A bright light ringed the long table and a variety of the planets' leaders stood beside their seats.
He walked to the head of the table and sat as instructed by his host. They had worked out their strategy for this meeting, and Kyloran had decided to trust his host's plan. He had been briefed on each one.
"Mr. Tianpu, Mr. McMillon," he nodded to his left and right. "Hirano-san," he said warmly to the greying local who smiled back. Nobuyuki Hirano had been close with his host and had provided several gifts which had proven useful in understanding the world. He had wanted to speak with the planet's government, or barring that the leaders of the largest nations. But Hirano-san had shown him who held power on this world. Kyloran didn't like it--this world's democracy was probably their greatest invention--but he was here on a matter of life and death, his people's. The humans would have to fix it themselves.
Their familiarity caused the rest to exchange glances, but he went on naming each one after a brief pause. He could name their organizations as well, their revenues, everything they held dear. But he didn't mention that.
"Greetings. I am Kyloran Estraxx, ambassador of the Payapa Unity. I welcome you, the corporate leaders of Earth, to our first conference. Or rather, our negotiations," he said with a smile.
| 2014-12-26T12:10:42 | 2014-12-26T12:09:19 | 130 | 18 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | The human smiled playfully. "So if I understand you correctly. You will give us this FTL technology in exchange for our aid. All you ask of us is to cleanse your world of this Ashvell species, and remove this substance from your waters?"
"That is all," I said with a hoarse voice. We hadn't done much research on these creatures. All we knew was that they had yet to fly further than their own moon and that they may be our salvation. I stepped back as the human walked by me. He walked carelessly, holding the vial that contained the substance that could destroy my species.
Water. Yes, we thought it was water. The clear liquid that granted our planet the ability to sustain life. The Ashvell gave it to us as a simple offering, one of peace and prosperity. We had no reason to suspect the Ashvell of foul play. Would you? We had been on neighboring planets for thousands of years.
Cast Ozon had started to puke green bile moments after he had swallowed the substance. His elongated neck had melted within mere seconds. Our dear leader had died whilst still holding onto the glass. Before anyone had been able to react, the Ashvell had started their offense. Enormous cannons had sprayed our lands, our homes and our people with the poisonous substance. We thought it was merely water. The Ashvell knew it was not.
"You should not keep this substance in an unprotected vial," I said. Humans in white coats eyed me as I followed the human leader up a flight of stairs.
We entered what I assumed to be a living space. Why else would there be a sleeping platform in the center of the room? The human sat down and placed his legs on the sleeping platform, leaning backwards.
"What is your answer? We haven't much time! The Ashvell kill our younglings by the hundreds for every second I do not return."
"Has the United Nations made a decision?" The human spoke to the mirrored wall on the other side of room.
A face appeared on the wall. The human in the wall cocked an eyebrow. His gaze lingered on me. "You say that this liquid is poisonous to your species?"
A shiver ran down my spine. "Yes, it is. None of the species in our solar system are able to survive direct contact with this substance. We beg of you, please save us."
"And simply attaching the technology you wish to donate to us will enable faster than light travel for the vehicle it is applied to?"
"Yes."
The face disappeared and I could once again see my own reflection in the mirror. I turned to the human beside me. He was sniffing the substance, twirling the vial around as he did.
Then he drank it.
I stood there in disbelief. The human drank the most poisonous substance known to my people. I jumped back, afraid that his body would explode. A mere drop still in his throat could splash out at any second. A mere drop was enough to kill me outright.
Nothing happened.
The human smacked his lips and winked at me. "Twelve percent."
Behind me, I heard the oh so familiar booming of FTL-engines. The humans had accepted our offer. | "Chancellor Ehrbane, please, I am not a violent man."
"*Not a violent man?!*" I spluttered with almost unkept rage, "Your people have laid waste to my kin-kingdom's homeworld. Your men have trodden armoured through the Basilica of Old Truths, the keystone of our culture! Your weapons have destroyed our ancient reliquaries, devastated cities, and erased the history of our forebears! You are callous, you are dishonourable, and you are most *certainly* violent!"
The human in front of me cocked his head in confusion like some kind of pack animal, and quietly chuckled to himself before responding.
"No, Chancellor Ehrbane, I am not a violent man. I am a diplomat, an addition to your entourage, to cross the gap between your wishes and my superiors. My people are fighting a war on your behalf because you could not keep your next-door-neighbours off of your homeworld, and that Basilica was razed to ruin before humanity made planetfall. Those men you accuse me of destroying your world are not mine to command."
I could not believe what this man was saying; I was a Chancellor, a leader of the most sophisticated, proud and fashionable spacefaring civilisation in the spiral arm! How could he bear to stand in my presence without being some kind of mighty leader himself?
"Not... yours to command?" I spoke, somewhat uneasily given the revelation of this being's inferior status. The step backwards I took was instinctive; I could stay too close to an inferior species, especially a specimen of lower class.
The human quite obviously saw my actions and recognised my sense of distaste, sighing as if dealing with a child. "That would be so, Chancellor Ehrbane, not mine to command. My superiors, on the other hand, do command those men, and believe me on this one;" he took a long step closer to me and leaned in as he did so, becoming nauseatingly close to my person, "my superiors are *very violent men indeed*."
To seemingly illustrate his point, another human warship blinked out of slipspace within my homeworld's atmosphere, dangerously so given its vast size, mere miles from the tower I and the lesser human occupied. The gravitational distortion was immediately evident; I could see the seas to the east begin to churn uncontrollably; the earth shook and the sprawling buildings of my serfs below, structures far shoddier than my adamantium spire, began to tumble. The ventral guns of the warship opened up mere minutes later, tearing great holes miles wide into the flesh of my planet and decimating the routing mobs of invaders who, mere weeks earlier, had landed upon my home in grand armies, in serried ranks and with fluttering banners. Despite myself, I wept openly, and screamed aloud at the travesties committed by humanity upon my world. I sank to my knees, overcome with incalculable sorrow, my legs unable to keep me stable given the shaking of the ground beneath me and my emotional state.
The human rocked gently from side to side, moving his centre of mass in time with the swaying of my tower to compensate for the shaking earth. He leant over again and whispered next to my shuddering, curled and embryonic form.
"I am not a violent man, Ehrbane, and neither are you. However, I and my people are strong, your people, and you in particular, are *weak*. We tore our world apart so that we could get our hands upon the slipspace technology *you* offered. Your honeyed words spawned revolution, civil war and despair upon my home. Your world will be torn apart in recompense."
I still lay upon the ground, crying and yelling, as the human got up, sighed again, and began to walk for the staircase, he called over his shoulder as he retired.
"You brought pain to Earth, Ehrbane. You begged my people to rescue you from the invaders, but you did not beg to be rescued from us. Enjoy your world while it lasts, I know my superiors will. This is just the beginning, *the galaxy awaits humanity*!" | 2014-12-26T12:23:02 | 2014-12-26T10:45:23 | 70 | 15 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | The response below is the prequel to a story I wrote for another prompt found here: http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2j42eh/wp_humanity_is_the_only_race_in_the_galaxy_with/cl8i9yy
Enjoy! And as always, please criticize as much as you can - I need it!
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Meditating in this room, with its crystalline throne and specialized hydrogen atmosphere, had always put me at peace before. I had ordered the burning of entire planets, demanded that entire fleets of ships be sacrificed to stall an enemy advance, and asked for whole cities to commit ritual sacrifice from this room. All of that paled in comparison to what I was about to do now, and I doubt I will have any peace in the years to come.
Humanity had always been an oddball race in the galaxy. With the invention of their Kines-Alcubierre Drive, their presence in the galaxy grew like a menacing cancer. Full of war and hate and astonishingly quick technological progress, they quickly butted heads with their alien neighbors. While I'm glad that my people, the T'vana, weren't the first to discover human violence firsthand, I can't help but feel that it might have helped us to learn their ways. Their fundamental differences - borne out by a rare evolutionary path in which they evolved sentience as *individuals* instead of a collection of hiveminds - could have saved us if we had only bothered to learn from them. But the other species in this galaxy, the ten civilizations that feared humanity's abilities, stifled them instead. With warships and sanctions, we stifled them until they were fenced into a third of the galaxy we all share.
But now there are only 4 of the original 10 species left. The others are all gone, scattered in refugee fleets or cowering in hidden asteroid bases. All hoping that the Enemy, the REAL nemesis that we should have seen coming, overlooks them. For all the condescension that we showed towards the humans because of their warlike ways, we need them. None of us know how to wage cold, dirty war on a grand scale. The Shuri never moved past dueling as a suitable method of settling disputes, while the Heela refused to even touch weapons. Both species are now seen as museum pieces; things to be treasured for the short time they have left. The Kaavari aliens from beyond the galactic border do not see chivalry as something to be admired.
So now I, possibly the last Emperor of the T'vana, am giving humanity the one thing they've never been able to develop. Their Kines-Alcubierre machines can travel a hundred times the speed of light, but ours...our ship drives shift *instantly*. If the Terran Empire could fight their way through and colonize a third of the galaxy with such a limited drive, I truly shudder to think of what they will do with this.
I am sorry, my people. May we go together into the dark, for I fear that humanity will have taken all the light when this is done. | "Chancellor Ehrbane, please, I am not a violent man."
"*Not a violent man?!*" I spluttered with almost unkept rage, "Your people have laid waste to my kin-kingdom's homeworld. Your men have trodden armoured through the Basilica of Old Truths, the keystone of our culture! Your weapons have destroyed our ancient reliquaries, devastated cities, and erased the history of our forebears! You are callous, you are dishonourable, and you are most *certainly* violent!"
The human in front of me cocked his head in confusion like some kind of pack animal, and quietly chuckled to himself before responding.
"No, Chancellor Ehrbane, I am not a violent man. I am a diplomat, an addition to your entourage, to cross the gap between your wishes and my superiors. My people are fighting a war on your behalf because you could not keep your next-door-neighbours off of your homeworld, and that Basilica was razed to ruin before humanity made planetfall. Those men you accuse me of destroying your world are not mine to command."
I could not believe what this man was saying; I was a Chancellor, a leader of the most sophisticated, proud and fashionable spacefaring civilisation in the spiral arm! How could he bear to stand in my presence without being some kind of mighty leader himself?
"Not... yours to command?" I spoke, somewhat uneasily given the revelation of this being's inferior status. The step backwards I took was instinctive; I could stay too close to an inferior species, especially a specimen of lower class.
The human quite obviously saw my actions and recognised my sense of distaste, sighing as if dealing with a child. "That would be so, Chancellor Ehrbane, not mine to command. My superiors, on the other hand, do command those men, and believe me on this one;" he took a long step closer to me and leaned in as he did so, becoming nauseatingly close to my person, "my superiors are *very violent men indeed*."
To seemingly illustrate his point, another human warship blinked out of slipspace within my homeworld's atmosphere, dangerously so given its vast size, mere miles from the tower I and the lesser human occupied. The gravitational distortion was immediately evident; I could see the seas to the east begin to churn uncontrollably; the earth shook and the sprawling buildings of my serfs below, structures far shoddier than my adamantium spire, began to tumble. The ventral guns of the warship opened up mere minutes later, tearing great holes miles wide into the flesh of my planet and decimating the routing mobs of invaders who, mere weeks earlier, had landed upon my home in grand armies, in serried ranks and with fluttering banners. Despite myself, I wept openly, and screamed aloud at the travesties committed by humanity upon my world. I sank to my knees, overcome with incalculable sorrow, my legs unable to keep me stable given the shaking of the ground beneath me and my emotional state.
The human rocked gently from side to side, moving his centre of mass in time with the swaying of my tower to compensate for the shaking earth. He leant over again and whispered next to my shuddering, curled and embryonic form.
"I am not a violent man, Ehrbane, and neither are you. However, I and my people are strong, your people, and you in particular, are *weak*. We tore our world apart so that we could get our hands upon the slipspace technology *you* offered. Your honeyed words spawned revolution, civil war and despair upon my home. Your world will be torn apart in recompense."
I still lay upon the ground, crying and yelling, as the human got up, sighed again, and began to walk for the staircase, he called over his shoulder as he retired.
"You brought pain to Earth, Ehrbane. You begged my people to rescue you from the invaders, but you did not beg to be rescued from us. Enjoy your world while it lasts, I know my superiors will. This is just the beginning, *the galaxy awaits humanity*!" | 2014-12-26T12:09:55 | 2014-12-26T10:45:23 | 30 | 15 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | Kyloran Estraxx straightened the tie around his right neck. As was protocol when establishing contact with new races, his ship's fabricator tailored an approximation of the style worn by that world's leader. Or leaders, in some cases. In the end, Kyloran settled for a dark blue suit and a white and red tie for each neck.
The diminutive locals bowed and smiled once again, and Kyloran returned the gesture, which sparked off even more bowing. He still had no idea why so many of them congregated on such a small string of islands, but logic--and protocol--dictated that a planet's largest city/hive/nest was often that world's capital.
He was sure this "Toh Kee Hyoh" was the right choice, even if he had to keep bowing.
One approached him and bowed. "Honoured guest, our leaders are ready to see you now."
He copied the bow but not the smile. That unnerved them. "Thank you, honoured host," he said. "Please lead the way."
He followed the local leader through several hallways under an honour guard. Most were tense, even dressed in their own suits Kyloran could sense they were ready to kill or die. It comforted him to know he had made the right choice in selecting this species.
Two servants pulled the doors back and Kyloran padded down his suit before walking in. A bright light ringed the long table and a variety of the planets' leaders stood beside their seats.
He walked to the head of the table and sat as instructed by his host. They had worked out their strategy for this meeting, and Kyloran had decided to trust his host's plan. He had been briefed on each one.
"Mr. Tianpu, Mr. McMillon," he nodded to his left and right. "Hirano-san," he said warmly to the greying local who smiled back. Nobuyuki Hirano had been close with his host and had provided several gifts which had proven useful in understanding the world. He had wanted to speak with the planet's government, or barring that the leaders of the largest nations. But Hirano-san had shown him who held power on this world. Kyloran didn't like it--this world's democracy was probably their greatest invention--but he was here on a matter of life and death, his people's. The humans would have to fix it themselves.
Their familiarity caused the rest to exchange glances, but he went on naming each one after a brief pause. He could name their organizations as well, their revenues, everything they held dear. But he didn't mention that.
"Greetings. I am Kyloran Estraxx, ambassador of the Payapa Unity. I welcome you, the corporate leaders of Earth, to our first conference. Or rather, our negotiations," he said with a smile.
| May our children forgive us; for we choose servitude over annihilation. Is it not better to be second among equals, lower only to them and above the rest? Is it not better to watch the fleet of those who would enslave you burn, to watch their planets fall and their cities crumble than to see your people massacred, your holy places desecrated, your world die. We may be giving up our freedom but at least we will survive right? Yes, we will lose our beloved council, we will see Kartaloon fill will races from around the Dominion, we will cede territory to others and be forced to do trade with lesser species but we will survive. My brothers and sisters do you not wish to see the Targracians suffer for all that they have done to us, for what they did to the outer colonies for Impac, Tonar and Harkathia how many billions of us have they extinguished how many worlds have they made dim. Only the scourge of the Humans of the Dominion of Canada can lay restitution for the sins and atrocities that they have befallen upon us.
The Humans will be our ultimate weapon against Targracia, her people will weep for a million cycles, her Gods will be made to bow before the shadows and their hand, the Humans, her cities will empty and their people will know what it truly means to suffer, to suffer without hope, without mercy, to suffer at the hands of humans. Remember your history what they did to their own kind the atrocities committed against the cities of New York, Sao Paolo, Beijing, Tokyo now imagine what they would do to the Targracians a species that may pose a threat to them, even if only an imagined one. Yes my brothers and sisters we may lose autonomy but how many are truly left free in this galaxy if we do not capitulate to the Humans than to who? Should we be as the Par Madi a dead race only to be remembered in the annals of history; a lesson for those to come the consequences of those to prideful to bend to those more powerful than themselves, is it not better to bend to the Devil we know than the one we don't?
By joining the Canadian Dominion we will be given access to technologies millenia beyond our current level we will have access to their space-time gateways, our children will see parts of the galaxy that our grandfathers could only dream of. We will be able to spread far and wide to the point that even if Kartaloon should fall our people never will. As second among equals we will never know subjugation of a conquered people, only Humans themselves will be above us, and in the vastness of their territories we will barely even notice them, true our illustrious council will be disbanded and our people will be subjected to their "Democracy" but they will also be protected by their "Charter of rights and freedoms". We will be given technology to build a fleet of star ships that would be able to explore the Galaxy and protect our people, and still be backed up by the Canadian Star Fleet, we will be given voice in the Galactic Council, I have seen it myself their base inside of Sol, the base inside the heart of their sun where the representatives of the second species work together, where the Therelians and the Ic Ba Moor once bitter rivals exist together in peace.
Truth be told we have little choice in the matter, capitulation to the Humans is the only choice we have. I stand before you not to ask for your acceptance in this matter but to ask for your forgiveness for the deal has been made, by this time tomorrow the siege will be over, within an hour the full Canadian armed forces will enter Kartaloonian space and engage in battle with the Targracians. A Governor class space station will orbit between us and our third moon Today is the last day that Kartaloon exists as a free and independent world, but we still have a tomorrow and for that I will not apologize. | 2014-12-26T12:09:19 | 2014-12-26T10:50:07 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] You go out on a mission to kill a giant, a quest from which no man have returned. When you get there you find out the giant is overall a cool dude and the men that never returned just stayed with him because he was so fun | I peer into the cave. I brace myself for the scent of blood and effluent. I've slain seven giants; seven times have I smelt the foul decay of their hovels of depravity. I let it wash over me, the inmistakable stench of... OG DC Trainwreck?
"Bruh yer just in time!" shouts... Demetrius? My erstwhile companion, lost to the cruel clutches of Dankonius Smokesun, Giant of Chronnug Hill four moons ago? The friend I'd travelled through valley and vale to avenge?
"Demetrius! Run my friend, now is thy chance! I have come to avenge thee, but I now rescue thou! I shall cover thy retreat, as before at the Battle of Grundlewunk Mount!"
"Nah bruh chill, D Smokes just loaded up a phat dab, take a rip bro." Around the corner walks a wispy bearded figure bedecked in hemp bracelets and tie die. The only thing giant about this creature was his immense natty dreads.
"ay sup im Dankonius D. Wizard take a hit bruh."
Demetrius notes my puzzlement. "Oh right yeah the giant thing, he just started spreading that stuff around the village so no one comes and raids his dope hydro setup. I came to slay him for glory but then he showed me his dank nugs and I just been chillin ever since."
I take a look at the heady dab rig. I ponder my blade, sweet Gretchen the Vengeance Maiden. I put the sword down and take a phat rip.
"aaaaay lmao" | Here's my best shot:
**"Hi!"** a voice big deep bellowed from high above. Nils turned around, his arms were shaking and his armor was rattling. "Who speaks!" He yelled dismayed by how shrill his voice sounded in comparison. He held his shield in front of him almost hiding behind it. Peeking over the edge of the cliff he saw a ginormous face. It was covered in a great mossy green beard and due to it's size Nils could see every little imperfection and crevice in the rough skin. Two eyes big enough to crush and outhouse looked at him with delight and the creature's mouth, full of ugly crooked teeth was ajar in a great goofy smile.
**"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare ya"** said the giant and laughed. Leaves fell of the trees in the ravine and pebbles and dust fell of the sides of the cliff. Nils, still hiding behind his shield stared in disbelief. "I have been given a mission to slay you, monster!" screamed Nils trying his best to look threatening behind his shield. **"That's what they all said"** the giant rumbled **"Though nobody has done it."** Nils started shaking more violently looking for somewhere to hide. Perhaps the giant would be to clumsy to catch him if he hid in a crack somewhere. Suddenly he heard another voice shout "Njord! Who have you found this time?" the giant turned his big head and his long hair spilled over the edge of the cliff down to where Nils stood. **"A tiny man, this one wears steel and carries a big shield. I say it again it looks awfully heavy for someone so small."** the giant answered. Nils saw two shapes appearing beside the giant. He immediately recognized both of them. It was Erik the Bold and Ragna the Fair. It had been two years since the monster-slaying power couple set out to slay the monster. When even they hadn't returned King Harald had forbidden anyone from entering the giant's valley.
"Hi Nils! Long time no see bro!" Erik shouted down at him. Nils was overwhelmed "I thought you were dead! We all did!" he shouted. "It's a long story. C'mon up I'll tell it over some mead and boar!" Erik shouted back. The giant reached down the ravine and carefully picked up Nils by his feet. Dangling upside down the giant brought him up to the edge.
This is running longer than I thought, I'll stop here and continue of there is demand. Thanks for reading. | 2015-03-07T12:56:44 | 2015-03-07T12:39:47 | 57 | 14 |
[WP] Write a story that takes place over the course of 5 seconds or less. | “Five!” The word pierces my skull, indicating that the end is to come.
“Four!” The countdown mocks me, a culmination of all my failures and successes. Soon they will be forgotten, replaced only by dreams and false promises.
“Three!” We created it. The end is our own doing. Mankind’s great gift.
“Two!” Nothing could stop it; a force so powerful that the entire universe will suffer the effects.
“One!” The waiting is over. The ensuing panic will be lost to the ages. A change is coming. A new era. I close my eyes.
“Happy New Year!” | He knew there was no coming back. The line had already been crossed. He closed his eyes and jumped. The wind was harsh and he was afraid he'd hit the cliff before he had enough speed for it not to matter any more. This was as close to flying as he would ever get. He even cracked something of a smile. It was the first one for a long time, at least he couldn't remember when the last time was. There were so many things you could do when you didn't care about the consequences. He felt free. No one was telling him what he should or shouldn't do.
They say that at moments like this you see your life flashing before your eyes. He had anticipated it to happen but it still hit him hard. Quick pictures of his life in random order. He learning to sail with his grandfather. The face of Diana, who never called him names at primary school. Telling a joke that made his classmates laugh at the joke and not at him. The ridiculous jumper of his middle school teacher Mr. Jenkins, who might have understood if he had told him. His parents, both of them together, helping a five-year-old him to complete a jigsaw puzzle. He wasn't sure whether that one had ever happened, but he still saw it.
Then he saw his mother. No more flashing of images, just her mothers expression starting to look more and more terrified. The smile, if it had ever been, disappeared from his face. "I'm sorry", he would have wanted to whisper but he couldn't get any sound out.
He glanced down. The ground approached quickly. Very qui...
| 2016-02-18T09:25:16 | 2016-02-18T09:13:39 | 63 | 26 |
[WP] Write a story that takes place over the course of 5 seconds or less. | “Five!” The word pierces my skull, indicating that the end is to come.
“Four!” The countdown mocks me, a culmination of all my failures and successes. Soon they will be forgotten, replaced only by dreams and false promises.
“Three!” We created it. The end is our own doing. Mankind’s great gift.
“Two!” Nothing could stop it; a force so powerful that the entire universe will suffer the effects.
“One!” The waiting is over. The ensuing panic will be lost to the ages. A change is coming. A new era. I close my eyes.
“Happy New Year!” | Conor stepped hard on his left foot, twisting his hips and rotating his shoulders as his left hand soared from its defensive position around his chin toward his opponent. Like a shotgun blast the blow connected square on the chin, sending the haphazardly charging fighter tumbling into his doom. It was in this brilliance of timing his life would forever change, in this short gap of the moment.
The long time ruler of his weigh division lay helpless at his feet, only conscious enough to be an after thought for him to end. The moment was slow, Conor had seen it all in a pseudo slow motion that seemed unreal. It wasn't just the leaping left hook of his opponent saw, no, it was the dismayed faces of his corner as he tumbled to the mat - the sudden reaction of the crowd just beyond the cage in every direction.
The sheer force of their roar shook Conor as he stepped forward, slamming his forearm into the grounded champion, smashing his head into the mat with ferocity. Two unanswered blows and the ref was between him and the defeated champion - who was champion no more.
The culmination of years and years of hard work, coming to a head in a matter of simple seconds. The struggles on government aide, living in his parents attic with his girlfriend - the sneers and derision as Conor proclaimed he would be the greatest to ever live.
And yet here he stood, peering into the crowd as it screamed his name and all his bold claims, all his mind games and all his fame became justified. Conor didn't remember when he had jumped ontop of the cage, he didn't remember the interview with the announcer after the fight.
He didn't need too - his triumph would be eternal. | 2016-02-18T09:25:16 | 2016-02-18T08:17:03 | 63 | 12 |
[WP] You're immortal, but the procedure that made you so also created an evil doppelgänger. After centuries of conflict, using any means necessary to subvert each other's plans, neither of you are sure which one of you is the evil one, or if either of you were ever supposed to be evil at all. | He performed the ceremony during his twentieth winter.
His people had spent generations building the raised circle of giant stone slabs; the names of those who started the project had faded even from myth before its completion. Visitors would regard the henge with awe, thinking the placement of the heavy stones to be the work of giants, or magic, or gods. Even thousands of years later, when men built buildings that touched the sky and lived like gods themselves, the ruins of the temple would be regarded with wonder.
The pillers holding up the circle were taller than four men. They were carefully aligned with the setting sun of winter's longest night, and the rising sun of summer's longest day. The centers of life and death. Immortality could be achieved by mastering both.
Of his people, only a few volunteered to undertake the journey through history, as it would mean being permanently exiled. Immortality was release not only from the bonds of life and death, but also from the ties to the people. An eternity alone.
Alone, but not solitary.
The volunteers drew lots. The traveller was selected.
One man walked into the stone circle leading two sheep. Two men walked out. The hands of one held a lamb, those of the other were covered in blood. They regarded each other with contempt. Each claimed to be the man who walked in, though each remembered a very different ceremony. They departed the island, and then departed from the company of each other.
The man who had held a lamb went south. He crossed a sea and a desert, seeking the birthplace of humanity. From each tribe he began to learn the healing arts. He was called by many titles: shaman, healer, doctor. Eventually, he headed North again. Occasionally he passed into history under many different names, but mostly he preferred obscurity, healing the suffering of people who would also be forgotten.
The other headed east, out onto the steppe. He became a great hunter, first of animals, but eventually of men. He was not called by any titles, and avoided the gaze of history altogether. His acts went unrecorded, but their consequences did not.
A thousand years passed. The world grew smaller, until eventually news of one man began to reach the other. Neither was known to ordinary people, but with centuries of age each began to recognize the ripples created by the acts of the other. The healer of men regarded the hunter as evil. The hunter regarded the healer as weak. Even after ten centuries of life, neither had lost the certainty of youth.
Another thousand years passed. As they entered their third millennium of life, the hunter experienced has first seeds of doubt, for the healer began to demonstrate a new kind of strength. His ripples turned into waves, sweeping away the very gods of entire nations. He began to acquire new names: Buddha, Christ, Muhammad. Some men refrained entirely from killing each other in reverence to these names, others killed even more enthusiasticly.
It was another thousand years before the healer experienced his own seeds of doubt. Stories drifted west of an unstoppable Khan sweeping out of the steppes, putting entire cities to the sword. He was only stopped, not by any army, but by death itself. A random accident to mortal observers, but one that bore clear signs of intent to a more patient observer. It seemed that sometimes, killing could be its own kind of healing.
It was not until their fourth millennium of life that the two men finally embraced. The hunter had recognized a lynchpin, and quietly arranged for the assassination of an Archduke. In the decade that followed, even he finally had has fill of violence.
During that same period, the healer wandered unrecognized through barbed wire and trenches, treating wounds. He saved many lives. Among them, a young German soldier; a failed artist but a charismatic speaker. The decades that followed that act finally taught him humility.
Men became gods. They built monuments that touched the sky, and weapons that could destroy cities in a brief flash of light. They increased in number and power, straining the capacity of the land and sea.
The immortals returned to their temple, now bearing titles like "taxi driver" and "tour guide", quietly amused at throngs of men-become-gods that nonetheless still marveled at their temple; wondering at its purpose.
They discussed the problems of the world with each other, but were now reluctant to shape it. They saw humanity increase without bound, giving life to billions of its kind, and threatening all with death as a result.
Now they wait for an opportunity. Neither is willing to bestow life or death indiscriminately. Instead they watch, each now hoping that mortals will slowly learn the same lessons that they only acquired by immortality. Each understands that if humanity fails, both life and death may cease on Earth.
Only one of them is optimistic. | "You fucking douche!"
"Calm yourself you blabbering imbecile"
Everything about him pissed me off.
"Obviously you have no intentions of a peaceful negotiation."
That stupid, fake accent. His condescending tone in everything he says. I dragged my bloodied leg closer to him.
"Look who's talking about peaceful! You just put a motherfucking crossbow bolt into my motherfucking knee you motherfucking cunt!"
He tries to be superior to me in everyway when he knows damn well we're practically the exact same person. Thought process, appearance, even physical strength is still very similar after 1400 years.
"I see you have taken to adopt the 21st centuries language patterns. Have you chose to adopt a new name as well?"
"Yeah, it's Mordecai now. You still go by Captain Fuckface Douchelover?" Not really my best work but these 21st century children really make their insults difficult to use.
"Shame, I quite liked Henry."
He stood up from his stone throne and began his walk towards me.
"And you know very well that my name is not Loveface Douchefucker."
He reached down and pulled the bolt from my knee. The wound closed up and healed and I stood to greet him face to face.
"Where's your damn dining hall? I'm hungry as a motherfucker so you better have some good shit!"
"Repulsive..."
We entered the dining hall of his ancient castle. I will admit, I am fairly jealous that he was smart enough to keep the deed to this place over the years. I'm stuck in a shit hole apartment in what is now known as Detroit.
"Here is your meal Hen- excuse me Mordecai."
Long ago I would be worried about him poisoning my meals but that ended long ago. Nothing can kill us. Not even each other.
"Yeah thanks cockwad."
There was a long silence while we ate. We absolutely hate each other, but we are also the only people we know that share the same experiences so it can feel nice to just chat sometimes.
"How is your lady? Lisa was it?"
"Fuckin merked."
He looked up, obviously confused by the terminology.
"Dead."
Even I could see a slight bit of sympathy behind his cold, scarred eyes.
"I'm sorry to hear that. It will be a shame you will no longer be able to, how did you say it? Tap her fat ass?"
I couldn't help but laugh at that one.
"You know shitwad, what the fuck are we doing?"
I looked across the long stone table at him.
"Obviously we are enjoying a well prepared meal."
Unusually, he didn't want to make eye contact.
"You know what I mean... For the past millennium, we've met every 100 years and take turns trying to kill each other. Does that even make sense?! I mean honestly, what the fuck did you even do over this last century?"
He still refused to look me in the eye, but I could tell he could feel how strongly I felt.
"Well I slept for about 47 years and then I looked around for ingredients for your meal."
He still retained some of my previous passions from when we first split such as my love for cooking.
"Ha just like you. Hate me more than the fucking devil and you still are courteous enough to make sure I'm comfortable for our meetings."
He finally looked up.
"I do not hate you Mordecai. I disliked your attempts to influence the world and I disagreed with your methods for obtaining power, but I have never hated you. I exist because of you. I stay fighting because I know it gives you purpose and this far into our excruciating lifes, my only purpose is to give you purpose."
He looked back away as I finished off my dinner.
"I guess if you put it that way it kinda fucking sucks... Thank you for the meal Arceus."
I caught a glimpse of a smirk as he stood to collect our plates.
"Yes, I guess it does fucking suck. You are welcome."
We talked for a while longer while we made the trek up the mountain to the arena. Reminiscent of adventures we had taken, women we had met, the men we had killed and the ones we wished we had saved. I once believed my counterpart to be the evil one. The twisted mind who kills for enjoyment or possibly just to see me suffer. I may however, had been wrong.
"Why didn't you say something long ago?"
He paused and looked over the vast mountains. Snow sparkling like glitter on a little girls brand new bicycle.
"What would you have done without me to fight. You would find others. Innocent possibly just ignorant, but no one immortal. You would fight and kill for what you believed is right. The world would no longer get to make it's own choice because you would be the decider. What is right. And what does not benefit you."
I stood near the edge and thought about all he had said. Was he really the evil one, and if not then what does that make me.
"Are you ready friend?"
I turned to face him as he opened the many wooden chests. We both picked a new blade.
"Might as well start with the swords before we get to the good shit yeah?"
No longer did we fight to kill one another. No longer did we fight for revenge. It wasn't about the world or a family we once had. It was a much more selfish fight now.
"Im feeling nice so how bout you take the first jab ya dirty bastard"
We chuckled. He plunged the steel into my heart and removed it as I stood with no flinch.
"Well, I suppose it's time to try the next one friend."
We didn't belong in this new world any more, but that really isn't our choice at this point. Now we were no longer fighting to kill one another. We were fighting to die.
I hope it was okay and everyone enjoyed! This is only my second time writing for a prompt so please give me some feedback on where to improve! | 2016-11-29T10:12:13 | 2016-11-29T09:00:10 | 445 | 27 |
[WP] Due to your careful planning, your family has successfully survived the nuclear apocalypse. There's just one thing you didn't prepare for. Ghosts. An entire planet of fucking ghosts. | If you should ever find yourself in a similar situation - that is, if you should ever find yourself living in a post-nuclear wasteland littered from sea to glowing sea with the ghosts of a quarter million lucky former inhabitants - take this as a handy guide to life.
1)**Be upfront with your children.** Beth and I made the mistake of telling Will and Samantha that everyone who hadn't made it into the bunker had simply gone to Heaven. Prior to leaving the bunker for good, we reminded them both that everyone was in Heaven and to not sweat any excessively high corpse piles we may come across. We were very keen on this - not because we're especially religious, but because... well... it just seemed easiest.
So once we were out of the bunker and surrounded on all sides by the chatty spirits of the dead - *none* of whom, it needs to be said, died peacefully in their sleep - the jig was up. It's one thing to be haunted by literally an entire country of people; it's another thing entirely to have your children side-eyeing you with growing distrust throughout the whole ordeal. Selling them on the nutritional value of canned green beans has certainly not gotten any easier.
2)**Don't negotiate with the dead.** The dead are a *desperately* pathetic lot, always sniffling and sniveling over some or other insignificant thing they failed to accomplish in life. As such, there's little the dead enjoy more than roping us poor living folk into various quests and tasks, designed (allegedly) to set their spirits at ease.
This is horseshit. The dead are dead. Nothing gets particularly better or worse once you're dead. Additionally, there's almost nothing of any tangible value that a dead person can offer you, besides perhaps buggering the fuck off. Unfortunately, most of our departed neighbors have realized this and swung around to straight up blackmail, threatening to "haunt" us into compliance. For ghosts, "haunt" is simply another word for "annoy". Do yourself a favor, and don't make it a habit to help the dead in any way. They are not especially appreciative (being dead) and there will always be another favor that follows. Stay out of it.
3)**Find all the sleeping pills first.** The dead cannot touch you. They cannot hurt you. They can, however, annoy and pester you, and they will do this most often at night, when you are trying to sleep. They will "Wooooooo" and they will moan and they will rattle chains (which signifies absolutely nothing, but is an unbelievable pain in the ass to hear at two in the morning), all in an effort to break your spirit and spare them their boredom.
Do not play their games. Ignore the dead during daylight hours by distracting yourself with manual labor. At night, pill up. Do not give them the satisfaction of your anger or fear. Sleep, snore, and dream. That is the perfect revenge.
4)**Possessions are rare, but deeply, deeply obnoxious.** Ghosts, for whatever reason, seem to prefer possessing children. Possibly because children are innocent, but also possibly because they are stupid and rarely wash their hands.
Instruct your children to avoid befriending ghosts at all costs, especially *child* ghosts. These are the worst. Child ghosts possess the innate horribleness of children mixed with the otherworldly shitheadedness of ghosts. They are truly the worst of all worlds. They *will* attempt to take over your child's body and your child will hardly try to stop them at all. I suggest letting the possession stay in place for at least a month, just to show your child a thing or two. Also, it helps to remind child ghosts about the taste of canned green beans. Eventually things will sort themselves out, but it will be unbearable until then.
The rest you will need to figure out for yourself. Less crucial details - such as finding clean water, testing air quality, and preventing radiation poisoning - are obvious enough and not worth mentioning here. The important bit is the ghosts. They are the worst. But never let them know how much you hate them. Be patient. Be kind. Be bland. But above all, *always* be willing to sacrifice a family member if things start turning south. It's a cruel world, after all. Eventually we'll all be ghosts. | #Title: Get Back
A sea of see through hands reach through the walls of our bunker, grasping at life.
"*Mom..*," whispers my daughter. "*Dad*.."
"Shhh," my wife replies, hugging her.
"They're," my daughter starts to cry. She shakes her head and shivers. "They're not *real* are they?"
A blank faced man with transparent skin walks through the wall, and stares at us. His eyes turn to longing. He drops to his knees.
"Could be some illusion honey," I say. I don't look at the walls of arms. "Maybe some *gas* is leaking, making us hallucinate." My eyes shift this way and that way at the canisters. Anywhere away from *them*. "Maybe it's the trauma. We're all believing the same things. We haven't *slept* much, it might be tha-"
"You don't know," she whispers. She cries into my wife's arms. "Just say you don't *know*."
"I," More ghosts walk through the walls. Shivering, bewildered ghosts. Souls unsure of where they are. Where they're meant to be. Or so I wonder. "I don't know."
I don't know which would be worse. Going slowly insane, or realizing that there was some semblance of an afterlife staring us right in the face.
And it looks like a pale and restless hell.
An arm appears beside my wall, grasps for my chest. Passes through me.
"They can't hurt us," I say. I don't know, but I say it. "They *won't* hurt us."
My wife nods to me, moves aside her unkept hair. Sets a kiss on my cheek. Sets her head on my shoulders.
"It'll be all right," she says. I want to believe it. "It'll be just fine."
Then a ghost of a terrified mother breaks through the wall. Falls to her knees right before us.
Stares up at us. She's so close, I can see the reflection in her eyes.
The reflection of the whirlwind inferno.
"HELP HIM!" shouts the ghost.
They can talk. Oh God, they can talk, I pray.
A burning child's ghost runs into our bunker, flailing with arms on white fire. Screeching.
"HELP MY SON!" she shouts.
I feel helpless.
"I'm," I choke on the fear and sorrow. I hold back tears. "I'm so sorry."
The chilling apparition of a child's skin burning off, falling to the ground in a ghostly heap. Staring at the ceiling without eyelids.
"No…" whispers the ghost. It was like some horrific replay of a lost moment. Help him..
They were all ready gone.
A fire came over her. She began to burn. She reaches for us. Touches a hand.
"OW," shouts my daughter.
We pull back to a corner. More ghosts emerge from the walls.
My wife prays.
"OW OW OW," my daughter's hand is red.
The ghosts are wailing. Approaching. Bursting into flames.
"Get back," I say.
They wail louder. I can't hear myself think. They come closer.
"GET BACK!" I shout.
"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!" screams my wife. "GET BACK GET BACK."
The wailing fades, and they go quiet. They stop walking closer. They stare at us, eyes of wonder. Like they wondered if we were real. Like they weren't sure if they were real. Like they wanted to believe it was all a nightmare too.
"Get.." whispers the ghost of a mother. "Get back.."
It's so quiet. She's sobbing, still going to flames.
"Get back," I whisper. "Please. Please get back."
They take staggered steps back. They understand.
"Please get back."
"Get back," whispers that ghostly mother. The fire burns through her mouth. She looks like she's smiling. "Get back?"
She starts to giggle. The rest of them start to smile a bit, at the walls, at the ceiling, at each other. They all start to giggle too.
"Get it back," they all start to whisper to themselves. They all start laughing.
"Get it back," whispers the ghostly mother. She starts laughing hysterically. "Get it back.."
They all laugh. My daughter starts to cry even harder. My wife looks at her hand, as she looks at the crowd of the dead.
"Get it back!" whispers the ghostly mother. She stares at her son's burnt corpse. Her son's corpse rises. She roars with laughter. "WE'LL NEVER GET IT BACK!"
They all roar and laugh. They all burn. She comes right to me, her face but a skull. Her hands in the air.
"WE'LL NEVER GET IT BACK!" she shouts.
I stare death in the face. I pray.
"WE'LL NEVER GET IT BACK!" she proclaims.
It was a plague of laughter and fire.
| 2016-11-29T19:01:56 | 2016-11-29T18:18:58 | 516 | 145 |
[WP] When you wish upon a shooting star, it's actually a satellite, and your wish has been recorded and cataloged. An agent has been assigned to your case. | *Finally.*
She walked in the cafe and it appeared time stopped. I had seen the picture and profile of course when I had been assigned to her wish, but a picture just couldn't do justice to her. The vibrant red of her hair, the startling blue eyes, and a look of, well, youth on her face. It's not just the looks no, I mean, I look 25 but I've been fulfilling wishes for around a 1000 years. It's more. The uncertainty, the shifting eyes, the alert yet confident posture...it was all just so *young.*
I smiled to myself at what I was about to unleash upon the world.
I pretended to look through the stack of papers on my table in the corner when she came to serve me. She began to say something, but, not looking at her, I suddenly got up, papers in hand, and bumped into her. She gave a short yelp, and I made a show of falling to the ground and spilling all my papers.
"Damn! I'm so sorry," I said hurriedly, "I'm so clumsy."
"N..no problem at all, sir, here let me help me pick up your papers." Then she knelt down next to me and began to help me gather the spilled papers.
See, genies had it easy. Just snap your fingers, and the cosmic powers rush to fulfill the desire. We had to do it the hard way.
"Oh..." she said, finally picking up the paper I had made sure not to grab. It was a flyer for an acting audition.
"Hm?" I asked, looking up.
"Oh, err, nothing," she said, blushing slightly, and hurried to stack up the papers.
"Oh, come on," I said, smiling, "did something catch your eye?"
She got up and smoothed out her clothes, and handing me back the stack of papers. "Nothing, but anyways, here are your papers," she said, a bit too casually, and handed me back the stack.
"Ah, well. Sorry again." I gave her a polite smile and left the cafe, whistling to myself. She would come. I had read her profile, she would check it out.
***
I was sitting in one of the seats in the theater when sure enough, she arrived. She stepped onto the stage, and faltered when she noticed the judges. Raul Julia, the famous play actor being one of them. I had had to pull quite a lot of strings for that incident. A delayed flight, a fire alarm, and a minor car accident were just half of it.
Regardless, beyond that slight falter she showed no reaction. She stepped onto the stage, and the judges told her to several different roles, a businesswoman on a phone, calling her boyfriend to break up with him, receiving a call from her friend telling her her mother had died.
And I saw it all.
I saw her shift through personas like clothes, discarding and picking them up with a moment's notice. I saw her weep, yell, and soothe into her phone with no one on the other end, and I *felt* it.
Most people wish for things they cannot control. Like having someone fall in love with them, on becoming a millionaire. But if something is not realistically possible, it isn't done. But when a college drop out wants to fulfill her dream of being an actress, who just happens to have an insane amount of talent...well, that I am glad to do. All I did was give her the opportunity to display her talent to someone who would notice, the rest was her.
At the end of it, the two judges sat in silence, and Raul Julia himself stood up and slowly applauded.
She smiled then, a genuine, *young* smile, and did a little curtesy.
I got up from the seat in the dark back of the theater and quietly left.
My work was done.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out my new subreddit [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | 8am, Central Control.
"Well this is it Mulgrew. You've got the first case of 2017, don't screw it up." barked Lieutenant James from the front room.
Gemma, Nolte and Higgins swung around, lept from their chairs and came bounding over to my desk. The four of us Debutants were now glued to the monitor, I could feel Gemma's breath on my neck. None of us knew which one would be first but I always had the feeling I'd be the one, these things had always happened to me.
The cursor blinked incessantly. On and off, on and off, on and off. I could feel the trembling start as I waited for the cursor to make its move. My fingertips had run cold and my right knee had begun to jump like a dog in anticipation of a walk in the park.
I got a slap on the shoulder from Nolte and Higgins rocked my chair, I felt like an astronaut ready for take off. There was an ungodly backlog of wishes from New Year's Eve and I was about to get the first one.
I could feel their smiles behind me as the cursor began to reveal the assignment.
*John Corner, 15. 'I wish Nick Cannon was dead.' -- Cataloged at 00:03 01/01/2017. Further details can be found in the attachment.*
The smiles had gone. My chair ceased to rock as Nolte delicately patted my shoulder and walked away. Higgins sighed and went back to his desk, he swung slowly in his chair with his two hands on his head. Gemma stood still, staring over my shoulder at the screen.
"I'm sorry Charlie." she whispered. I could hear her whisper break as she said the word sorry.
I stood up from my chair and called Lieutenant James, who we called Sir throughout our 18 months of training, to my station.
"Sir, I've gotten a Death Wish." I said as I pointed at my screen, the room of sixty-four agents fell silent. The Lieutenants brow furrowed as he approached and examined the line from the console.
"Hmm, well now, that is strange. I thought I had filtered all of your wishes for only the simplest of wishes. You should really only be getting weight loss, wealth and hair growth wishes, you know the every day stuff."
A warm calmness grew over me as the Lieutenant's confusion had now captivated the room. It was broken, the Wish Console was broken. Nolte, who sat six agents away at a console in the same row as mine poked his head out from the row of heads and watched intently.
"Well at least you'll learn something from this one, might even help you progress quicker than any agent we ever had." barked the Lieutenant. I froze.
The Lieutenant was a tall strong man with posture that made me think his entire day must be spent in discomfort. The scar on his cheek was the subject of many rumours throughout the Academy, the scar started from just under his right eye and curled away towards his ear. The scar sat upon his face like a trench on a battlefield and never moved in sync with the rest of his face. I found myself staring at the scar.
"Get a move on Mulgrew!" he barked.
"Sorry Sir, I will get right on it." I remember my reply being a little too quiet but the Lieutenant didn't punish me for it. I sat down and plugged my headset into the Console.
I opened the attachment from the console and viewed the bios belonging to what I had thought was going to be two boys in the middle of an adolescent fight. I was wrong.
John Corner was a thinly framed boy, his face seemed weary in each of the photographs we had on file. His blonde hair had grown long but hung like straw around his narrow and contoured cheeks.
I clicked on his name and opened the surveillance folder. I opened the first image of John from today. It was time to see what he wanted.
In the first photo, taken just under two hours ago, he could be seen leaving his house. His hand was rubbing just under his left eye and his other hand was plunged into the black jacket. This photo was taken this morning and I noticed something strange about the photos that followed. His right hand never left that jacket pocket. There were satellite images of John in clear view up until he got on the bus for school.
I searched for James Northern High School and pulled up the satellite images from when the bus arrived. John was last to get off the bus, his hand still in his pocket, clutching something that seemed too large to be his phone, it was barely fitting into the jacket pocket and his hand was resting there to keep it in place.
I began to feel panic rise from my feet, my legs were beginning to feel numb and I could feel my breathing become more and more deliberate. I opened the bio for Nick Cannon.
*Schoolteacher, 32 years old. Wife [Isabelle Cannon, 29]. Daughter [Elizabeth Cannon, 3]*
I threw the headset onto the desk and jumped to my feet... | 2017-01-03T09:45:56 | 2017-01-03T09:40:55 | 90 | 44 |
[WP] When a child comes of age their greatest quality manifests itself as a familiar that will follow them for life. You just turned 21 and you still didn't have one, until this morning when two showed up and they terrify you. | The earliest one gets one's familiar is at 13. The latest is generally 18. The world record is something like 27. I feel bad for that guy; eight years waiting was hard enough.
Familiars are strange beings. The earliest recorded one came in the early 1800s, a great bear-like beast that followed a single man. They cannot be harmed by conventional means (they usually die with their masters, though they can be put to death under certain conditions), and they take on a variety of forms.
It's not like your familiar can do more than give you life advice and be a friend. They have a strict code not to harm others (though I've heard of some murderers and psychopaths having violent familiars), and they generally don't talk to anyone but their masters. Still, it sucks being the only one without a wise creature companion.
My friend Maya was an early bird; a day after her 13th birthday, she came to class with a bright red lizard with long tail feathers on her shoulder. "Confidence," it was called. Next was Daniel at 15; his great, shaggy, hulking beast was named "Listening." Then was Hannah with "Acuity," Kara with "Resolve," Eric with "Cleverness," and so on. And then there was poor old Emily Smith, the boring girl without a familiar.
My parents did their best to reassure me that I'd get a familiar one day. I didn't share their hope (incidentally, my dad's familiar, a large hawk). I'd seen statistics about familiars; the later they came, the more likely they were to be "undesirable" traits. Could I get stuck with "Hatred" or "Ego"? "Apathy"?
I grew distant from my friends. As they all bonded over their familiars and the wisdom they received from them, I was alone. I was jealous, but I tried not to let it get the best of me; what a familiar that would be. I distracted myself with learning, aiming for high honors and a reputation for hard work. I wasn't the smartest, but it paid off, landing me in a neat little college. Of course, I had no friends at that point, and I couldn't really make any at school.
Finally, my 21st birthday came. It was in summer before returning to school. I woke up just before dawn with the distinct feeling of being watched. And there I saw it, my familiar: a small, spiny creature sitting in the corner of my room, staring with beady red eyes. I was startled and quickly flicked on the lamp. It appeared to be a hedgehog, no larger than a softball, with a strange, long tail.
The creature spoke to me in a soft, yet commanding voice, "I am Isolationism, your first familiar. I have seen your heart and eaten away at your soul. You have suffered enough; now, you may confide in me."
I was a bit disappointed. The creature called Isolationism was a bit creepy and discomforting, and it wasn't a very desirable trait. Something stood out to me, however.
"First?" To have multiple familiars was extremely rare.
"Yes. For as you allowed me in, you created something else. As you isolated yourself, you learned to work for yourself. You are bound by no one. And for this, we are not alone."
I noticed a larger shape in a shadowy corner of the room. Tall and lithe, it appeared to be some sort of crane, with a long sharp beak and cruel claws. It regarded me coldly and silently, not so much as stirring a single black feather. When it spoke, its voice was loud and clear.
"Call me Independence."
----
EDIT: Thank you all so much for the kind comments. This is the most I've ever gotten on a writing prompt. It's been a very stressful day, so I appreciate it so much.
EDIT 2: Okay, I know it's cliche to say, but thank you so much for the gold! I am literally crying right now from the hundreds of kind responses. I've never gotten so much attention for one of my works, and it means a ton. You all have inspired me, so I want to make this into an actual short story (I might rework the first part, then add more afterward). It might take a few days, as I have exams this week, but I will do my best.
Again, thank everyone so much. It's been a rough couple days, and you all have helped me so much. | On my thirteenth birthday, I began to count the days. My mother had discipline. My father had creativity. I had nothing, and was desperate for something. Like a child, seeing the adults sit at the adult table. Or seeing them drink wine. Or watching, as they do 'adult things'. I wanted my 'adult familiar'. My mark of being mature, and my bestest friend in the world.
Familiars were like dogs, only they would live with you forever. And, you could talk to them. You could touch them, they could touch you, and so on. The only thing that made them different from us was the ability to phase through walls and become ethereal or invisible. Invisible to all but other familiars and the owner, that is. I know, immediately, you're thinking of all the awful things they could do. But, since everyone gets one, it's not usually a big problem. Unlike humans, familiars are all astoundingly evenly matched. So while you may have total control over them in the end (they like to talk and fight back a bit from time to time), you can't ever hurt anyone. Unless they tell their familiar to stand down and let it happen.
Or if you went after children. But good luck with that, as the punishment for familiar based crimes against children is a life sentence or death, not to mention the parents you need to go through and general attitude towards it.
Children, or me.
'That familiarless kid'. Me. The one who couldn't defend himself from anything. You sicked your familiar on me? I was helpless. You messed with my homework or bullied me? I could only report you after you'd done your damage.
Sure, I had friends. A few here and there that lingered around for the sake of sympathy, but I was different. And kids, teens and even those in their early adult years are ruthless.
'Weirdo' was a kindness.
While there were late bloomers, most got their familiars by 14. The world record was 16, before I came along, if you'd like some context. Over a few months, I became an international freak and celebrity. And a glutton for punishment. Even the large amounts of sympathy charities can't help you get over feeling left out. Girls would only find me interesting because I was different. But just like a peculiar rock, you only pick it up and hold it until you get home. Then it gets tossed away and forgotten about.
For my 18th, that's what I got. The world, after two years, stopped giving a damn. I finally had some semblance of peace. Like the one hit wonder that never made it again, I was just there. Someone who was somewhat special, but not really.
Bereft of normality. Bereft of attention. And bereft of a familiar, I sought out my own. Alcohol. Spirits to drown my sorrows. Wines to replace my moans. Beer to carry my sorry ass to the next day, only to keep slogging down the spiral staircase to liver failure.
Strangely enough, I never attempted suicide. Through my drunken hazes, I convinced myself that I was a writer. Blessed with the eerie solitude of lacking in a lifetime companion, I wrote books on loneliness. And I fucking hated it.
Every sale and compliment, "Oh wow, that's really hard hitting."
Every critic who was blown away by the concept of being alone, like a shot of pure nostalgia from when they were a child.
Every one of them, I loathed. I made money off my depression. People chewed it all up and shoved forward hard-earned cash to suffer through my life. All from the safety of their own, perfect little familiar having lives. So I did the only thing a defenceless and famous writer could do. I drank. And kept writing.
Stacks of books, hundreds of thousands of words. Maybe some part of me hoped that there was a way out of this. Maybe some part of me just wanted enough money and the willpower to end myself. Maybe my body just wanted its next fix of booze and liquor.
Either way, I wrote. And wrote. And wrote. A dull monotony of writing, drinking, and developing a sort of fame for my solitary life. People loved it, the hard and unbreakable man who wrote to get it all out, and slugged through life.
Ever admire the lonesome monk in the mountains, who chooses to be alone?
I was that, but in real life.
And yet, through it all, I still had hope. I hoped and wished against all odds that maybe, just maybe I would be normal one day. That I'd get that companion to share my woes with, with no judgement or prejudice. I tried dogs, didn't work. I tried parrots, they're not as smart as they seem. I even tried bots online, but technology is only so good.
Still: I wrote. I hoped. I drank.
Until my 21st birthday. Like a punch to the gut and a confirmation that there was nothing but endless conflict *they* showed up. Not him. Not her. Not it.
They. They. They. They. A plural *they*. The cementing of my agony and a giant tick across my life to remind me that all I had was Hope and ***it***.
What do they say about two? 'Two's company', right?
And who loves company, more than me and more than Hope?
The nail in the coffin.
Misery.
****
If you don't feel like having Misery for company, how about joining me over at **/r/AlexUrwin**?
| 2017-01-20T13:17:28 | 2017-01-20T12:09:53 | 4,354 | 1,896 |
[WP] You ask your date, "Did it hurt when you fell out of heaven?". She looks at you with a confused look. "I never fell out of heaven, who told you that I was your angel?". It turns out she is your guardian angel. | “So your real name is Eos?” I asked my date as we strolled through the park.
“Yeah, that’s my God-given name,” she smiled an angelic smile. Her full lips revealing white and straight teeth.
“What does it mean?”
“Oh, it’s not important. It’s an old name,” she smiled again and the autumn wind caught her hair. Absent-mindedly she tucked her windswept hair behind an ear. “Tell me about yourself. Do you do meet girls on Tinder often?”
“No!” I laughed the question off. “No this is my first time. I’m usually more of an introvert. A year ago I wouldn’t even have had the courage to talk to someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“Well, you know,” the words caught in my throat, begging not to be released into the world, “Smart and beautiful.”
“You’re sweet,” Eos blushed and swept another strand of windswept hair behind her ear. “Where did this newfound confidence come from?”
I felt my heart rate spike as the memory flooded my senses. The doctors told me it was normal, a normal reaction to an abnormal situation. It didn’t feel normal though. It didn’t feel normal to have a memory that swallowed any sense of nowness like a rogue wave dragging a sunbather out into the open ocean. “I,” I stuttered, “I like to run. I run for charity sometimes. I’m not very good, I don’t post good times but it’s something fun to do. I…” I stuttered again and took a deep calming breath. “The doctors said I should talk about it. Do you remember the massacre at the Valentines Day half marathon?”
“Yes.”
Yes. The answer was so simple but her eyes were a wellspring of emotion. Pain, compassion, suffering, anger, love. They all washed across her face and poured out through just a simple “yes.”
“I was there,” I choked on the words again. “I … I should have died there. At least the doctors said I should have died there. My friends … they -”
“Shhhh, shhh, shhh,” Eos cooed, “It’s ok.”
She pulled me close. A strong and warm hand held my head close, another wrapped around my back and pressed my body against hers. I didn’t realize at first, but I was crying. All the pain, the anger, the suffering, the sadness, poured from me. I tried to struggle away from her embrace. Tears from memory turned into tears of shame and anger. The doctors told me the medication would control these feelings, they told me just to swallow the pill like a good boy and everything would go back to normal and now here I was on a first date and within the first five minutes, I’m sobbing like a toddler who’s spilled his juice box. “I’m sorry -”
“Shhhh,” she cooed again and pulled me closer, her arms crushing me against her warm body.
And I cried. I cried for all the shitty things in this world. I cried for the things that I had seen, for the things that I had done. For the lives disrupted and stupid senseless murder. I cried because it wasn’t just for me. It wasn’t just this one horrible thing I had seen; it was all of it. All the mothers, all the fathers, the brothers sisters, friends, children, … all the people all over the world whose lives were turned into rubble, just like mine had been. That was the thing about bombs, they don’t just turn buildings into rubble, they turn lives into rubble as well.
“I feel guilty for living,” I told Eos as she held me.
“I know.”
I hadn’t realized I felt this way. Not until the moment the words escaped my mouth. “My friends, they were better people than me. Tommy, he had a wife and a child and now they’re all alone in the world. It should have been me, I know it should have been me and now every time I look in the mirror …”
“Shhhh,” Eos cooed again, “Just breath."
“I’m sorry,” she said after a time. Her voice burdened. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save everyone, I can’t save everyone. I saved you once,” her fingers rolled through my hair and pulled me just a little bit closer and she gently kissed my temple, “I’ll save you again.”
| "You are stunning, quick question, did it hurt wen you fell from heaven?" I asked, earnestly attempting to make the words show love that was never there.
I hadn't felt anything but emptiness, like my soul is the vacuum of fucking space for months now. I'd tried everything, drink, drugs, meaningless sex, all of it. I told myself, "I'll go out to the bar, one last time, and after that, I'll sing a solo into Kurt Cobain's mic. It'll suck for whoever has to clean bits of Brian brain off the ceiling, but fuck it, it won't be me."
She looked at me, awestruck, literally agape. I asked her, "Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you?" She didn't reply, still looking stunned, as though I'd just told her I wanted to marry her that fucking night. "You don't have to be an ass, I know it's a terrible pick up line, but really, sarcasm?" She finally responded, "Oh, I thought you actually knew I was your angel."
I looked her over one more time, from her long, porcelain white legs, to her gorgeous, tight, red dress, to the luxurious blonde hair. Never seen a blonde clever enough to make a joke like that. I started laughing my ass off. More of a full body chuckle, but hell, it was a feeling. Once I'd returned oxygen flow to my brain, I noticed that she was horrified.
She had clasped her hand over her mouth like she hadn't meant to say anything. I smirked. "That was a great joke, but cut the shit." Came off a bit less condescending than I'd hoped for. She still looked horrified. "Hey, you alright?" Nothing. I got off the barstool I had planted my ass on when i came over to talkto her. I shook her shoulder lightly, and she shook, and snapped back to look at me. I asked her one more time "Are you doing alright?" She finally responded "I'm fine, I just can't believe I already fucked up my first job here on Earth." Over 21, and just got her first job, must be in college, what the fuck was she doing at this dive? "You wanna drink?" She must have been there just to get shit faced, probably fuck some South Side asshole like me, and brag to her yuppie friends about how bad she is.
She responded, looking thoroughly relieved "Yes please, this place have any Jager?" I fucking called it. "We got way better than Jager here," I hollared over the blaring classic rock at the barkeep "Jacky, you got some of that homemade shit?" Jacky made the hardest moonshine on the South Side of Chicago, 185 proof." He replied, in the same gravelly, "Dark Knight" voice he always did "Pace yourself Brian, you'll be on your ass before you get the whole shot down, ya scrawny fuck" Jacky was 180 pounds of muscle, wrapped in 50 pounds of fat, at all of 5'7", and could out drink an Irish fish. I on the other hand, was 6'4" 140 pounds sopping wet. And they say cocaine is bad for you.
Jacky poured two shots of shine, so strong it reaked like gasoline. Probably would have fueled a car just as well. She took her shot, like it was fucking water. I downed mine, coughed a bit, Jacky chuckled from behind the bar. "So, are we gonna fuck or what?" She asked once I'd stopped bitching out. "Jesus, tonight just gets better and better"
She took me back to her place, or at least, whatever hotel she was staying at. Don't know how she was even walking straight. As she unlocked the door, it was like a shitty romance movie, I kissed her, and we walked into the room, shedding clothing as we almost fell towards the bed. We fucked, all night long. Intense and passionate. By the end, I was convinced I loved her.
That morning, when I woke up, next to this beautiful woman next to me, she was looking at me. I had to say it. "I love you, uhh, fuck never caught your name?" "It's Jane, or Janey, honestly, it's up to you" Her voice even in the early morning, was fucking honey. "Well Janey, I hope you know this, you gave a man life last night. I was considering offing myself." We spent the rest of that morning just laying in that hotel room, talking about life, love, and all that typical bullshit you always see in movies. This woman made me feel again. I had shit to do, so eventually I dragged myself out of her bed. I got dressed and she gave me her number. After that, we talked everyday, and eventually life was good again. We had to break shit off, after about a year, but it was on good terms. She had gotten a job in Japan with her degree, and long distance shit just wouldn't work. Her last words to me, were
"Hey, remember when we first met, and you asked if it hurt when I fell from heaven?"
"Yeah, of course"
"It didn't hurt, we have wings for that."
| 2017-02-04T12:47:08 | 2017-02-04T10:00:36 | 98 | 13 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | First word PHYSIO was fairly easy to see. Perhaps a Greek name he wondered as the word THE appeared below it.
"Oh wow" he thought, its going to be a superhero like 'Conan the destroyer'.
"Please be magician.... please be Physio the magician" he said under his breath, as the last word appeared. 'RAPIST'.
"Rapist..... rapist" he said in bewilderment. "Physio the rapist".
"It says physiotherapist you moron" came a voice behind him. | 11:55, 19 August 2017
My family sat around the couches in the living room, making small talk about their own Destiny. Something about how no one was surprised when my father, sister and brother all got "Doctor" stamped on their forearm in crisp, Arial font. I despised it. The idea of sitting in a stale room in a stale hospital in a stale existence made my stomach churn. I drowned out their voices. *"Musician. Musician."* i repeated in my head, as if the mere act of thinking it would bring it to reality.
Since i was 3 i had had a passion for music, learning my sister's pieces by ear. Eventually i moved on from classical piano to drums and later the electric bass - my one true love. I could think of nothing i would rather do for the rest of my life than playing live shows and creating and pushing the boundaries of music. *"Musician. Musician."*
11:59, 19 August 2017
By this time everyone had gone quiet. The silence was now deafening. "Musician. Musician." I began to sweat. This. This one moment - a single instant could determine the course of my life. But would it really have to? I mean, surely i had the freedom to choose my own path regardless of some stupid tattoo, right? ...right? *"Musician. Musician. MUSICIAN."*
12:00, 19 August 2027
*"MUSI-"*
"Doctor Lee? Your 12 o'clock is here. Should i buzz her in?"
"Buzz her in."
Stale. But it can't be helped; can it? | 2017-03-16T03:20:58 | 2017-03-16T02:42:03 | 427 | 32 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | It was 12:01 before I felt myself breathe again.
It was 12:02 when I heard the first sob.
It might have been my mom, I don't remember.
I held my arm away from my body like a vial of toxic chemicals, like it would catch my body on fire if I held it too close.
My uncle shifted nervously in his seat, waiting for something to happen.
I think my sister might have grabbed my hand at some point.
I don't know, I don't remember.
I couldn't speak.
I couldn't hear.
I couldn't move.
Because when I severed my spine in a car accident 2 years ago, the world came to an end
And when *OLYMPIC GYMNAST* appeared on my arm tonight, the world ceased to exist completely. | The Life Brand is thought to be a flawless and efficient system by most of the world's population. Few oppose the mandatory injection of nanites that will one day create your Life Brand because they view the world as fair, now.
I get it, I really do. The Border Wars of the 21st century were bitter and terrifying for everyone, and then when Automatons began to dominate formerly middle and lower class workers, billions of people were displaced out of the workforce. Another war, fought for decades, eventually brought us to peacetime when a renounced Swiss doctor developed nanotech.
The political geography of the world changed. Borders were dissolved, entire governments gutted and destroyed, and everyone was classified into a career path based on the results of three different tests and a psychological evaluation. Then the good doctor developed the Life Brand and pitched it to our fledgling united government.
They ate it up like a sweet treat, and the Life Brand program was in full effect within five years. For the most part, we are better for it. We've seen no war in a decade, and Life Brand gets a chunk of the credit.
I always feared my branding day. I was always very aware of my mathematical genius and technological prowess. It didn't help to quell the fear of getting classified into a sub-optimal field for me. So it's no surprise that I felt terror and a deep sense of shame when my brand finally activated at 12:08:47 PM universal standard time. I wasn't branded to be a mathematician, an engineer, a networks security specialist...No. It was far worse than that.
"Hello, Mr. Sullivan. I'm Gemma, and I am your assigned organ requisition agent for today. Can I interest you in a last meal or a final judgement blow job?"
I really hate the Life Brand system... | 2017-03-16T03:02:12 | 2017-03-15T22:51:56 | 226 | 37 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | *11:59 PM*
My family gathered around me, silently waiting. We were all eagerly anticipating the Choosing, a lame name for a cool time.
*12:00 PM*
My mother smiled at me. She grabbed my arm and looked as the word as it appeared.
"What is it?" a chorus of family members asked.
She frowned. I took my arm back and took one hard look.
**Nudist.** | I sat there, waiting. Friends, family, all waiting to see the word. Would it be SCIENTIST, as everyone thought? Or would I get ARTIST? Maybe TEACHER? Who knew, until 2 appeared in mine. The only ones with 2 were the bigshots. But then... I saw them. MASTER ASSASSIN appeared. I walked to my room, grabbed the Remington 700 and MP7, picked up my backpack, threw 2 boxes of ammo in, and walked outside, off into the sunset.
--------------------
2 years later
--------------------
There I am, with my spotter, laying in the snow, snowboard beside me, ghillie on. Down the hill, my target awaits. I take aim, and fire. He crumples with the hit. I strap my bindings on, and my spotter puts his skis on. We ride down the slope, and see the body. I whip out my camera, snap a picture, and pull his wallet and IDs. I take my sat phone and dial up a number. "Auth code" the other end answers. "Alpha 9 2 2 4" "Roger, agent Smith. Sailfish is a success?" "Confirmed, Sailfish was successful. En route to CABIN." and I hang up. I look at my arm again, and think, just another day as a MASTER ASSASSIN. | 2017-03-16T02:03:50 | 2017-03-15T21:30:06 | 71 | 26 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | I'd always done well at school. Literally a straight-A student.
Perfect grades, the whole nine yards.
I'd gone to college, completed the courses before I was 16, and was enrolled in a prestigious and very expensive university in London by the time I was 17.
And because of this, the expectations were so high. My family, My extended family, distant relatives I'd never even spoken to, and all my friends had come for this my 18th Birthday, when they'd see the word appear denoting my future.
Everyone was trying to guess what the word would be. "Astronaut", "First President of Earth", "World's greatest scientist" were all bandied about.
It was 11.59am. Everyone gathered around as I extended my forearm and waited with bated breath.
The words that would shape my entire destiny began to form.
"Teenage Mom".
| "Hey Elena, your birthday's next week right?"
"Yeah, Jason."
"So do you think it will happen?"
"I don't know. My dad's got a number like most everyone else but my mom has a number and a letter. We might be getting closer to figuring out what the birthday messages mean."
"My dad doesn't think they mean anything."
"I sort of hope he is right. I mean it just seems like it can't be good, right?"
"Well, let us know! See you after."
-----
Birthday Reveal
It wasn't a big deal in the Lazarus house. Elena had to stuff to do then anyway. They'd celebrate her birthday, but her real friends and her family didn't believe in worrying about (or all this carrying on) about some scar tissue. That's all it was really, this weird biological process that happened. It was like the patterns on butterflies. It didn't have to mean anything.
She was alone when it happened. She saw it appear. The number three. She could live with that. A perfectly respectable number. There were three people in her family. But there was more. A zero. That was unusual, but still that seemed fine. It was a little far away from the three but no big deal. Suddenly, she felt a blinding pain. She couldn't keep her eyes open anymore. She swayed on her feet. Then just as suddenly she came out of what felt like a long trance but had only been a minute to find two letters. L and V. Along with the numbers they did send a message. A message open to some interpretation but it seemed good: L0V3. She knew her life would change very soon and forever. She couldn't hide love. How could she? But this wasn't all good. There was no message that could be all good. She just hoped she wouldn't have to be willing to die for love. Was the world ready for an ambiguous message of love from a young, black woman? She was about to find out. | 2017-03-16T02:40:17 | 2017-03-15T22:51:26 | 52 | 39 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | The Whaler
The clock strikes 12:00
A word is writ
Upon my arm
My life is split
One-half of me on the shore
The braver half, it longs for more
For every day out on the sea
Another hunt, and life for me
Half the life is black and cold
Its skin and bones, bought and sold
Fortune, spoils, warmth, and greed
A salior's life, a life for me
Half the life is white and stark
For barren is my sea and heart
The void and depth we plot and mark
Adrift will stay my noble ark
Upon the vessel, I must go
To hunt a whale I do not know
My life will be short and brief
A whalers life, a life for me
A tattoo sits upon my arm
My father wore it with no harm
I know not what he wants for me
He sleeps now with the fish at sea
This work is not my dream, I know
One day I'll spend my days below
For I do not know how to swim
A sailor's life, a life for him
| As long as anyone can remember you're future was decided on the 12th hour of your 18th birthday. No one knew what caused it to happen or when it started but the word you got decided everything from social class to tax bracket for you. In my family it was a 3 day celebration of the crossing over from child to adult and it was taken very seriously. And today was my big day so for the past few days my uncles, aunts, and cousins had been flying in for the last week.
At 11:55 the family moved into the living room, I sat on a chair in the middle of the room while my family sat in a crescent moon infront of me so everyone could see. Unlike most families mine didn't fit a pattern, my oldest uncle got CHEF, my 2nd uncle got COLLECTOR (his passion was baseball cards and always seemed to find the good ones), and my Mother got NURSE while my father got CARPENTER. I was worried because I didn't feel like I had a passion for anything that would influence my path in life, I often felt lost.
The four minutes from 11:55 to 11:59 felt like hours as I sat there with my arm extended out for my family to see. Thoughts kept racing threw my mind, would i take after my parents, would i take after my uncles, would I start a new branch? Would I advance I advance to the high class lifestyle, would I fall to poverty, or would I stay the same? I never liked hard work that caused calluses and I liked Interpersonal work that stressed out your emotions even less. I simply had no idea what I even wanted to do or be in life.
As the clock struck 12 my arm started to feel like it was on fire. I looked down and and the word REAPER slowly burned into view letter by letter. When the final R came into the view it almost seemed like all the color of the world had been was away, everything besides the red cords threads connecting me to everyone in the room. Finally after the few moments the threads faded away and the color came back. All my family and I could do for the next few hours was silently stare at the word on my arm.
| 2017-03-16T04:24:31 | 2017-03-16T04:12:27 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] A boy asks a girl out. It's high school. It's awkward. Narrate it from the point of view of a nature documentary. | Urban environments present challenges for all life. Unlike squirrels and refuse bears, not all creatures here spend their time scavenging.
A male human. This adolescent has mastered the skills required for daily life, and now that the weather has turned favorable, he's set his sights on a more difficult task. Groomed to perfection...or at least looking better than other members of his social clan...the male has just one goal in mind -- to find a mate. Competition is fierce this time of year. Human mating rituals can be exceptionally complex, and many pairings are quickly abandoned in favor of more enticing prospects.
Daily socialization among members of this age group is practically mandatory, but a complex social structure combined with adult supervision leaves little time for personal endeavors.
The male must act quickly to succeed.
A bell sounds, cuing one of the most breathtaking spectacles in the entirety of urban life -- the passing period.
Several times each day, hundreds of adolescent humans simultaneously stop what they're doing and rush into common areas, visiting temporary nests to deposit and collect needed supplies before continuing with their daily activities. This provides a unique and frenzied opportunity for members of different social clans to interact, and thus, to search for a mate.
There's no time to waste. Quickly, the male must organize his nest in a way that a female may find attractive. He places each object with great care, adorning empty spaces with bits of paper and colored string. Everything must be perfect, and time is at a premium.
There. With his nest and appearance up to spec, he turns his gaze towards the sea of potential mates -- and potential enemies.
Across the hall two members of another clan are standing off over the same dilemma -- they are competing for the same mate. The males exchange witty vocalizations in order to disparage each other, but to no avail. This dispute will undoubtedly end in bloodshed.
At the last second, an adult notices the conflict and casually sends each male on his way. Their mating difficulties will have to wait.
Meanwhile, our male has been watching the stream of prospects. Jessica...not ideal. Sarah...possibly. Becky...
The male quickly averts his eyes until Becky has passed, along with most of the other males. Life can be cruel. Everyone knows about Becky's abortion, and until she can do something to improve her social standings, she will be shunned by the group.
Finally -- Amanda. Our male has been watching this female for some time and has spent countless hours practicing to mate with her. Perhaps today? Yes! Today will be the day to mate with Amanda.
The male approaches using a practiced but awkward strut. In his bravest tone, the male asks,
"H...hey Amanda. What's up? I was wondering if you would maybe want to g..."
The male jumps, startled, as the bell sounds again signalling the end of the passing period. Amanda, having not heard anything the male said, shuts her nest and scurries down the hallway towards biology. He has failed. Perhaps he wasn't fast enough today. The male resigns himself to further practice on his own, and will have to try to mate with Amanda again tomorrow. | *Sweeping panoramic shot of a grungy inner city school. Majestic music plays in background.*
NARRATOR: Unlike the dominant species of the desert planet of Grizek, the inhabitants of this little world have tentative, almost ambivalent, courtship rituals.
*Cut to empty corridor. Bell rings, and a bipedal humanoid species appears in great numbers in the hallway.*
*Focus in on one member, a short individual with short hair.*
NARRATOR: The male of the species spends many months, even years, considering his potential mate. First he eyes her from a distance, taking great care not to be observed lest his attentions alert her to his presence.
*Camera pans to opposite side of the corridor, where a taller, long haired member of the species is walking towards the camera.*
NARRATOR: And this is the female he has chosen. The sideways glances of the males she walks past attest to her status as one of the most desirable mates in this environment. She walks past our male without acknowledging him. Now he must decide: is she ignoring him as a sign of interest, or is she truly oblivious to his presence.
*As the female walks away, the male watches her walk, his eyes fixed on part of her body that bounces in an uncomfortable looking manner.*
*CUT to scene of male sitting at table, his eyes staring at something out of focus in the distance. Focus changes to show that the object is the female.*
NARRATOR: Thirteen rotations of this planet later, the male has still not made his approach. But he must beware. He is not the only one interested in this female.
*Camera pans to show the female talking to another male. This one is much bigger than the first.*
NARRATOR: What will our young male do? Nothing, it seems. The other male is too big for him to defeat one-on-one. He must bide his time, waiting until the female is alone.
*CUT to the female opening a metal locker. The male approaches and drops a book next to her.*
NARRATOR: Finally! Our male is making his play. Under the pretence of an accident, he engages her in the rudimentary discourse that this species calls communication. Thanks to our discovery of a series of texts by somebody called 'The Bard' we have been able to translate their discourse into Galactic.
*The male makes squawking noises.*
MALE (SUBTITLES): Good morrow, my lady?
FEMALE (SUBTITLES): Dost I know you?
MALE (SUBTITLES): I am that merry wanderer of the night, that layeth near you during Chemistry class.
FEMALE (SUBTITLES): I know you not.
MALE (SUBTITLES): *Stammers* Um... wouldst thou accompany me to the dance next week?
FEMALE (SUBTITLES): Urgh, thou cream faced loon. Get thee away.
*Male flees.*
NARRATOR: Alas, our male has failed. The female proved unreceptive to his advances, and he will flee. Unfounded reports suggest that after unsuccessful courtships, males can turn such a vivid red color that they actually explode. Hopefully this fate will not befall our young male, as he is still young and has many more mating seasons left in him.
*CUT to two humans individuals walking down a street in the evening.*
NARRATOR: Members of this species often develop advanced methods to fool gullible females during courtship. Join us after the break as we take a look at a two more seasoned members of this planet engaged in the final stage of their courtship, a ritual misleadingly named: Inviting-Her-Up-For-A-Coffee. We'll be right back after this short message from our sponsors.
---
*And don't forget to tune in to* r/jd_rallage *at the same time next week, when we will show you never-before-seen footage of the unusual eating habits of this primitive species and their three staple food groups: 'chips', 'pizza', and 'beer'.* | 2017-04-04T07:07:46 | 2017-04-04T07:03:30 | 46 | 26 |
[WP] My husband nodded silently to assure me he had killed the nest of spiders. I almost went to thank him, but then I noticed the glint of light off the tiny threads suspending him like a marionette.
EDIT: As a few of you have pointed out, this was originally posted about a year ago by [/u/gregbrahe](https://www.reddit.com/user/gregbrahe) in his post [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoSentenceHorror/comments/4wh2jc/my_husband_nodded_silently_to_reassure_me_that_he/). Go give him the karma he deserves. My bad guys.
EDIT: Thanks for the good kind stranger. | I cocked my eyebrow at Pete, and gave him a once over. I swear those were threads I just saw. I was positive, even, but I couldn't quite make it out again. Of course, I'm being crazy. Spiders don't often take control of humans, in fact I'm not sure they ever did. But still, I couldn't keep the fear out of my voice as I asked Pete, "Are you a colony of spiders controlling my husband?"
Pete shrugged and pantomimed a nervous laugh. *Suspicious.* Why wouldn't he outright deny it? No, of course he couldn't if he was being controlled by a cabal of arachnids, that's *exactly what they would do.* I had to trip them up, I couldn't outright attack him for it, Pete hated whenever I attacked him for being nest of eight-legged freaks. After all these years of marriage, we had built a level of trust, and I wasn't ready to put that at risk. "Pete, you wouldn't lie to me, would you?"
Pete shook his hood vehemently. He crossed his arms and looked down, his face blank with shock. He didn't know how to process this. I loved this man, how could I possibly make him feel like this? I cried and went to hug him, and he hugged me back in the way Pete always does. His arms rested over my shoulders while he nestled me into his chest, stroking my hair in an almost childlike way. He was a little awkward, *but I loved him*.
--------------
"Oh fuck. That was cloooossssse." Gelkthssss looked over to the daddy long legs beside him, "If ssssshe ever findsss out... SSSShe'll leave ussss."
Skrth, the daddy long legs, looked at his friend strangely. "Why are you talking like that? And she won't leave us. She loves us. And we love her. But damn it, our marriage can't afford this kind of stress. She's getting slammed at the hospital, and I think the bank is starting to realize we are not a human, but a great amalgamation of predatory critters..." he looked at Sue, "God, she's even beautiful when she cries."
The spiders, Pete, pulled Sue back and looked at her with an expressionless face and dead look. They smooshed his lips against her forehead, and with most of his hand, wiped away her tears while nimbly poking her in the eye. She laughed, and the colony of Pete kissed her as gently as a group of spiders controlling a human could manage. | As summer
came to an end and trees changed their color, so too did Barry change it
seemed. At first the changes were small,
a new found interest in sewing, a fondness for the dark, and a strange habit
off hanging upside down off branches and poles.
I didn’t mind too much at first, especially when Barry began to fix the
broken seams in some of my old clothes, but when he started eating ants and
flies he caught I grew worried. Every
time he laughed it off, talking about a new fad diet he had read. *Insects are full of protein*, he would
say. *The Aborigines eat them ya’
know!* And last week he had even ditched
the glasses that served him for five faithful years. With each new change Barry seemed to become
less and less of himself, and their frequency had only increased. This morning Barry woke laying on his
stomach, his arms and legs tucked under him.
“How could
you possibly sleep like that?” I asked
from the bathroom, combing my hair.
“It’s just
somehow more comfortable that way.” He
laughed and came into the bathroom, stood behind me, and wrapped him arms
around my shoulders. He leaned into me,
forcing a kiss, and caused me to drop the hairbrush.
“Stop. It.
Silly!” I pushed his arms away
and bent over to pick the brush up, coming face to face with a silk grey cobweb
that ran under the counter’s lip.
Spiders, eggs, dead bugs. The
whole nest and all.
“Ahhhhh!” I
ran from the room. “Kill it! Kill it!”
Barry laughed, amused as ever by my fear of spiders. This was a routine that he had only grown to
expect, I would hide in bed while he played genocide with the eight legged
monsters. After a moment Barry emerged
from the bathroom.
“Did you
get them a-” I stopped midsentence, distracted by Barry chewing something. Gum, maybe?
No, there was a strand of grey silk hanging from his mouth. “A…are the spiders dead?”
Barry
swallowed. “They are now.” He smiled, his teeth smeared black.
“Barry…” I stepped back, his smile vanished as I
looked up into his eyes. They stared
back, black and speckling, like a multifaceted rock gleaming in the light. Their once blue hue vanished into the night.
“Whatssss
the matter Sssssally,” he asked, his tongue flicking out. He stepped forward, and doing so the light
flicked off a long thread stretching out from his back. My eyes followed it up to the ceiling, then
back down to his suspended feet.
His arms
flashed out, cut the thread, and he landed in a crouch. He leapt up, arms and legs folding around me,
spinning me in circles. My struggles cut
out as a grey web threaded around me, restricting movement. In a moment I was a cocoon, completely unable
to move.
“Yessss
Ssssally,” he hissed, “tonight’ss dinnersiess, warm blood. No more bugsiesss!” His arm pulled back, then flung forward
striking my face. Pain flooded in first,
then the blackness came next, drowning everything else out.
| 2017-08-08T20:57:21 | 2017-08-08T15:32:19 | 74 | 15 |
[WP] You're the normal guy the evil emperor keeps around to point out obvious flaws in his plan. It's a pretty sweet gig, but there are some annoyances. | We had the party in the council room. It seemed like I had spent my whole life in there.
There was a long rectangular table. On each side were generals and superpowered henchmen. At the head of the table was my boss, Emperor Chiropteran. I sat in the chair to his right.
The room was filled with balloons and streamers. Battle-scarred men do their best to wipe the glitter from their shoulders.
It’s my retirement party. They don’t think I know, but I’m smart. Seeing the hidden things is my job.
To the emperor’s left sits a five-year-old child. It’s their birthday too. We each have a cake sitting in front of us. They’re vanilla, with buttercream frosting, and small, about the size of a bowl of cereal. They’re identical, except for one ingredient.
The Empire rules ten planets, and has ruthlessly stomped out thousands of heroes. Their success comes from following a code, letter and spirit.
The rule in the code that concerns me is that an emperor must always have a five-year-old advisor to tell them obvious flaws in their plans. I have saved many lives during my tenure as advisor. And been responsible for the deaths of many of the emperor’s enemies.
Those deaths weigh heavy on me. I will enjoy my retirement.
I take a bite of my cake, and taste the extra ingredient. It tastes like bitter almonds.
What do you do, with a small child who has been privy to secrets of the highest level, when it comes time for them to be replaced?
You let them rest.
______________________________________________________
15/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated. | **Please let me know what you think. I appreciate feedback!**
I was folding the laundry when the Emperor’s guards came for me. They took me despite my objections, though they did make sure that someone fed the cat. I suppose I have to be grateful for that.
I wasn’t happy by the time we got to the throne room. I do have to admit that the black looks I received from the Emperor’s advisors cheered me up a little. The Emperor’s mother, standing behind the throne, gave me a particularly poisonous glare.
I made a mental note to figure out what I had done to upset her. She hadn’t been happy that her son had chosen his cook as his most trusted advisor, but had reconciled with the fact that I was sensible and unlikely to lead the Emperor astray.
The Emperor himself was agitated, pacing through the room, his bulky frame eating the length of it up in a few strides. He seemed to calm a little when he saw me.
“Where have you been?” he growled, as he strode towards me.
“I had to make sure that someone could look after the cat,” I replied defensively.
That calmed him down, as I knew it would. The feared Emperor of Laesef, Scourge of Men, Ruler of Nine Planets and Nightmare of the Righteous, had a soft spot for the furry demon that had graciously made me its slave. I could only wonder if they liked each other because they were so similar.
“Get to it,” the Emperor snapped. “We need to make a decision immediately.”
He waved an arm at a formally dressed man holding a digital pad. I have to admit being surprised by that. Usually, the Emperor only asked for my input on any plans that involved his having to deal with the ordinary people, or ‘the unwashed masses’, as he called them. I had to constantly refrain from pointing out that there was nothing wrong with the levels of hygiene in any of the planets the Empire had conquered.
The man with the pad pressed a few buttons, and a giant holographic image unrolled in front of me. It to be a floorplan for an infirmary. That startled me even more. I couldn’t imagine the fearsome Emperor taking an interest in something so… charitable. Maybe he was a changing man.
“This is the dungeon I plan to torture those so-called ‘heroes’ in,” the Emperor announced theatrically.
Or, maybe, he was the same as ever.
“We’ll have to make this quick,” I remarked. “I’ll need to get going soon if you want dinner on time.”
Working for the Emperor may not be easy, or safe, but it was certainly interesting. | 2018-01-15T21:43:05 | 2018-01-15T20:44:35 | 90 | 60 |
[WP] It worked! You travelled back in time to Renaissance Age. Jokingly, you turn on your Wi-Fi, only to find a password protected network named "iɔniV ɒᗡ" | Blinding white light split down the air in a shimmering curtain. Hissing and popping the portal spread wide enough for me to step through. The temperature change was noticeable as I stepped across space and time to arrive hundreds of years before my time. The Renaissance, winter of 1457.
My breath now visible on the air curled around the light of the setting sun and for the briefest of moments seemed to caress the ray. It would be dark soon. I looked at my attire, it didn’t match this time period but the colors would blend with the darkness. That’s all that mattered. I would not be here long.
My cellular device buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out I saw a jumble of letters and numbers which spelled DaVinci from right to left. I put away my phone and pulled out my pistol with a suppressor attached.
My prey was near. No one fucks with time. Not on my watch.
| I pulled out my pipe and vaped, sucking in that Raspberry Ripple 70/30 whilst I surveyed the land.
Motherfucker.
I checked my phone again, just to make sure I wasn't imagining it and then set off to seek out whoever the hell Icniv Ad is... Was? Is.
It was pretty cool, vaping, walking through a market puffing as people examined my clothes and face - 'If anyone tries to talk to me, I'm just going to speak gobbledy gook and hope they think I'm a foreign merchant' - It seemed like a solid plan on that sunny ass day.
I turned into the alley the signal seemed to be emanating from and I carried on down past some big vases and some chickens, just clucking... Chillin'.
Man, next thing I know, I see a She-He through a window. I swear *down* that was an ugly lady. Shit, wait - Do I have to use PC terms in the 15th Century? 'Cause seriously, this motherfucker looked like zhe was about to sing 'Hope There's Someone' and win a Mercury Music Prize. Damn.
Zhe came out of the house, paintbrush in hand, odd little half smile on... Zit's(?) face...
I held up my phone to show zher the Wi-Fi signal,
"You Icniv?"
My Italian is shoddy, so I have to be honest, I did not understand a word of what came next - All I know is zhe seemed to think I was called 'Leonardo'.
No idea what the Ninja Turtles have to do with it, but there we go. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to be my Brother-In-Law's lab rat. I mean, how is he going to bring me ba-
Oh. Well, I guess that's the end of that marriage...
"Hey Icniv, you haven't thought up a 15th Century Pornhub yet, have ya'?" | 2018-03-02T06:38:14 | 2018-03-02T05:58:08 | 38 | 12 |
[WP] You stumble across a peculiar library. Each book's title is the cost of the knowledge within. You read a few for the cost of a cent, a smile, a button. Until you find it. "Cost: half of your lifespan" | Gale's hand trembled as he pulled the massive tome off the shelf. He flipped open the first page and his eyes widened in horror as he realized what he was holding. It was Stephen King's 'The Stand.' And it was going to take him forty fucking years to finish. | The room trembled when the book opened, the cost hit immediately. Hands graying and wrinkling into disuse, I didnt need to have a mirror to know my face looked much worse.
The book trembled, an ancient voice reverberating inside my skull.
"A deep cost for knowledge, is it a cost you paid too soon?"
"It- "
"Don't waste your breath, the forst half was enough," the book interrupted.
I reached for the voice with my mind, trying to draw a connection, suddenly I was drawn and trapped in my own mind. It was dark, but less- surrounded by something emptier than the voids of space deeper than casms of any world, it called itself the Void.
"Release me, I paid my cost!"
"And I'll give you what you paid for."
"Tell me how to save them."
"Save them? From the disease?- they'll hate you, you'll become the enemy they sealed away for centuries."
"They will all die without me, even now our order is shattering as it takes us left and right."
"What you will do won't save them, it'll be a bandaid, their children will die, millions will follow for decades to come, the foretold will wear a black mask corrupted by your actions."
"I want to save them from death"
"You have chosen then? Very wise, Plagueis."
| 2018-03-29T09:26:57 | 2018-03-29T07:25:42 | 74 | 33 |
[WP] You're a biologist who made a deal with the devil: eternity in hell after death in return for unlimited funding for your research. The funding was worth it, you discovered immortality, and the devil is not happy about this. | It was late at night. I was hard at work in my lab when I heard his voice.
“So you found a loophole.”
I never even broke my gaze away from my work. I knew it was him and I knew what he wanted. “So I did. Lucky break, I guess.”
“Is that how you see it? Because I see it as stacking the deck.” He spun me around to face him. His eyes were cold, not quite furious but not quite calm, either. “Had I known you would use the funding for this, I-“
“Would have never made the deal in the first place, blah, blah, blah,” I mocked back, cutting him off. I had outmaneuvered the Devil himself. Why not enjoy it? “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish this latest batch to show to the buyers tomorrow.”
“Buyers?”
“Yes, from a major pharmaceutical company. I’m taking the formula public. I’ll be rich and I’ll be immortal. And who says you can’t have it all?” I turned back to my work but stopped when I heard a slow clap building behind me followed by...laughter?
“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he chuckled. “Job well done.”
“What do you mean?”
“With that formula public, immortality will become widespread and rampant. It will be fun at first, nobody dying, but eventually it will get boring. Add in the fact that no deaths means overpopulation will rise exponentially, draining the world’s resources faster than ever, and soon people will be begging for a death that will never come.” He leaned closer as he softly said, almost in a whisper, “It will literally be Hell on Earth.”
I stood there, stunned, as the weight of his words hit home. He was right. How could I not have seen it?
“The best part of all,” he added, as he took my latest sample and strode towards the door, “is you get to hold up your end of the bargain, after all. An eternity in Hell, paid on schedule. Think about that when you accept your Nobel, Doctor.” | He sat up, panting quietly as he relaxed again. If he had properly seen what the microscope showed, he had finally cracked it. He removed the slide from the microscope, walking over to the pill fabricator.
"It acts as an antidote to poisoning..." he muttered to himself, smiling in triumph. "It's a cure for all known diseases, it prevents the body from bleeding out, it reduces the body's nutritional requirement to practically nothing, it even reinforces the skeleton to stop crushing from being fatal... there's no method of death this cannot prevent. All I need now..." the machine pinged and a small drawer slid out of the bottom. There was a simple white pill, no larger than a cat's claw, but he knew the power it contained. Nothing less than immortality. He snatched it from the drawer and raised it to the sky, triumphant. "All I need is this pill."
"Indeed." a voice echoed from behind him. He turned, shocked. The lab was supposed to be secure! Who had... oh. It was *her.* "You never told me this was your research direction." She crossed her arms, clearly less than impressed. Her form-fitting dress complimented her body wonderfully, hugging her impressive curves. It stopped just below her shoulders and above her knees, revealing her red leggings and shapely limbs. He would have been enamoured all over again, were it not for the fiery scowl she wore. He could literally see the fire flickering in the back of her eyes.
"If I had, you would have never agreed to it." he replied. "We both know how expensive the ingredients were. Humans likely won't be able to reproduce one for a *long* time."
"We both know that's not why I'm here." she replied curtly, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair away from her red eyes. "You've cheated."
"How have I cheated? I promised you my soul upon my death and that is what I intend to do." it was his turn to fold his arms. He had cheated the devil.
"But you can no longer die, can you? Using my own money like that." she grinned slightly, licking her lip briefly. "If I wasn't so impressed, I'd probably take your soul now. After all, where's your evidence that the pill worked on humans? You only had one blood sample." His pride died down a little as she pointed this out... but his pride came back quickly enough.
"You wouldn't have come here if it wasn't the right ingredient. You would have just let me die."
"Well, I can see now there's a reason you took this job." she grinned a little more. "Very well, since you cannot die I cannot claim your soul." she turned around to face a blank wall. The paint started to bubble and peel as a large oval started to heat up, forming a damned portal. "There's one thing I want to ask you, though. You may have cheated death..." she turned to face him. He recoiled; her eyes were truly those of the devil's, amber and slitted like a cat's. "But can you cheat time?" | 2018-08-23T11:53:32 | 2018-08-23T11:20:34 | 5,923 | 174 |
[WP] You're a biologist who made a deal with the devil: eternity in hell after death in return for unlimited funding for your research. The funding was worth it, you discovered immortality, and the devil is not happy about this. | I see that you chose our unlimited funding package for the cost of one soul. Yes, that does include unlimited funding. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to deny your application for this equipment. You only chose the first tier of unlimited funding. We actually have three levels of unlimited funding. The package you chose lets you use two point five million dollars per month, after that we throttle you to twenty five thousand dollars per day. I understand that you're upset. I understand that you are on the cusp of completing your research on immortality. I understand that without this equipment, your research will need to be redone. Fortunately, we do have a solution for you. We can offer you the next tier of unlimited funding for the low cost of only forty souls. | The first time he met her, she was 61. Young, relatively, and dumb. She didn't know any better. A woman with a girl still inside her, a troubled past and a bleak future. The truth she faced was one all do. "Who will remember me after I'm gone?"
The answer came in the shape of sacrifice. The blood-dimmed King of night and dusk, shadow-playing and everpresent. She, a young foolish mortal, would make a perfect toy.
A mother, a lover, and a child. Blood after blood, the sacrifices completed. Ground sullied with life and death. An archaic rune scrawled on old broken ground. A flash, a breath, a deal. But what she gave was not enough. Desperate, hopeless, foolish. An eternity given willingly, and an eternity taken willingly.
_______________________________
The second time he met her, she was young, still. A mere century had passed. This time, he came for her.
A flash, a breath, a deal. The memory still fresh. She had fame, fortune, power. Memory of her would be everpresent. But the deal was broken. Shattered, thrown, lost. Time was coming for her, but not death. He saw, and smiled, and understood. She, uncertain, fearful, hopeful, did not. He laughed, and retreated.
_______________________________
The third time he met her, time had stopped. An eternity given, and an eternity spent. This time, he approached her. A foe, a friend, a fellow. The deal, fulfilled. An eternity in hell, but an eternity in life. A curse on her, put by all. Hate, fear, regret. Pain sowed in the fabric of reality. The deal, fulfilled. He watched, and waited, and left.
Edit: This is my first time answering a prompt, critiques and feedback welcome! | 2018-08-23T14:29:29 | 2018-08-23T14:02:54 | 38 | 23 |
[WP] You're a biologist who made a deal with the devil: eternity in hell after death in return for unlimited funding for your research. The funding was worth it, you discovered immortality, and the devil is not happy about this. | I see that you chose our unlimited funding package for the cost of one soul. Yes, that does include unlimited funding. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to deny your application for this equipment. You only chose the first tier of unlimited funding. We actually have three levels of unlimited funding. The package you chose lets you use two point five million dollars per month, after that we throttle you to twenty five thousand dollars per day. I understand that you're upset. I understand that you are on the cusp of completing your research on immortality. I understand that without this equipment, your research will need to be redone. Fortunately, we do have a solution for you. We can offer you the next tier of unlimited funding for the low cost of only forty souls. |
Edit: Need help formatting this so it doesn't look like a block of letters...
Steve walks warily down the street
With the brim pulled way down low
Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet,
Medicine ready to go
Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this?
Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?
Into the doorway the devil rips
To the sound of the beat
Another one takes the pill
Another one takes the pill
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one takes the pill
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one takes the pill
How do you think I'm going to get along
When you're never gone?
You took me for everything that I had
And left me all on my own
Are you happy, are you satisfied?
How long can you stand the heat?
Into the doorway the devil rips
To the sound of the beat
Another one takes the pill
Another one takes the pill
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one takes the pill
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one takes the pill
There are plenty of ways that you can save a man
And keep him outta hell
You can feed him, you can heal him
You can treat him fine and leave him when he's well
But I'm ready, yes, I'm ready for you
I'm standing on my own two feet
Into the doorway the bullets rip
Repeating to the sound of the beat oh yeah
Another one takes the pill
Another one takes the pill
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one takes the pill
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one takes the pill
| 2018-08-23T14:29:29 | 2018-08-23T12:48:16 | 38 | 13 |
[WP] among the many senses developed on alien worlds, hearing is not one of them. To most extra terrestrials, the idea that we can detect them even with a wall between us is utterly horrifying | I nearly jumped out of my skin when i saw the flashing lights in my peripheral vision. It was a friendly greeting as usual but the speaker's habit of just BEING there unnerved me, How the heck did she know I was on the roof?
"Oh. Uh .. Hello" I flashed back, trying hard to keep my surprise down so as not to accidentally glare when merely intended to polity shine at our guest. I did a quick mental inventory of how the genders for these humans were differentiated before adding the pattern: "Ma'am"
I paused and waited for the translator to work. A little camera she wore around her neck that saw my patterns and turned it into some sort of hieroglyphs on a screen on her wrist. She pressed some buttons on it after it had finished and her necklace flashed, "We were starting our weekly meeting soon and I TRANSLATION ERROR you walking around up here so I thought I'd let you know"
"Oh I'm terribly sorry" I patterned in response, "I'll be down shortly"
She smiled, thanked me and left. The translator errors were annoying, partially because the errors glared brighter than normal patterns and I often though for a moment that the Human had glared at me for some reason. But I supposed it was not so unexpected for the new technology. I had a reasonable guess that the untranslatable pattern had something to do with the human's unnerving ability to just know what was up without anyone shining at them about it or seeing it themselves.
I asked some of the scientists about it once and he shone that I was hardly the first to recognize our new guest's apparent psychic abilities. The scientists patterned they hadn't fully grasped it yet but it that it wasn't a psychic power but that the humans merely had the ability to detect localized activity. Detecting range went up with activity level and was partially but not fully blocked by barriers, even fully opaque ones that could not be patterned through at all.
No matter what they try to shine me about the humans that seems like ESP magic to me. Hell I was merely pacing on the roof and she had known I was there from a floor below? That can NOT be natural.
I flashed and shook myself out of my thoughts and gave my light-glands a rub. These meeting were always long, and I may need to do a lot of shining.
​
EDIT: fixed an oops
my sub: [https://www.reddit.com/r/Morpheuskibbe/](https://www.reddit.com/r/Morpheuskibbe/) | The cool earth cushioned softly beneath Blue-Green-Magenta's bare soles. He looked to his aide, Red-Scarlet-Teal, who nodded ahead to Ms. Hawk's home door, quiet as any world.
Eyes looked between blinds from houses around the street. Children-to-gods of all earthling years peered at the iridescent, slightly moving scales of... "*I wonder what we'll call them,"* thought a boy. His father, too shocked since the reverberation of windows and ear-piercing shrill of dying engines, forgot to ask himself how to care for a child in such a new world.
The boy noticed their clothes. Black--every piece. Except three verticle circles--three down the spine, three down the front, and three on each sleeve. One of the beings walked up behind Blue-Green-Magenta to gently trace his spine from blue circle, green, to magenta.
Blue-Green-Magenta turned around.
The Tracer One began an intracate dance of eight long, four-knuckled, graspers on each hand. Blue-Green-Magenta watched, unblinking. The boy *had* seen them blink. He was surprised by the deep purple of their eyes. He wasn't sure to be more terrified that they could close their eyes, as opposed to never blinking like dead things do.
Blue-Green-Magenta made an arrangement of graspers of one hand, held in the air between the Tracer One and himself. Upon command, the Tracer's graspers went still. Not to his sides.
Still.
Blue-Green-Magenta turned his attention once more to the task at hand. The boy became uncomfortable, as Blue-Green-Magenta and The One Who Nodded, Red-Scarlet-Teal, starred at each other.
Minutes passed.
The boy's father remembered him. "Dan, I need you to go to your room." Arrival of whining police sirens spoke the panic and indignance of the boy. The sirens sounded like they'd stopped a small subdivision street or two away. The boy and father heard more gather on streets to the left--and on the street behind the fence of Ms. Hawk's backyard, ahead. "Dan, I have..." The boy looked to the dinosaur toy he'd enjoyed just a quarter hour ago till Earth felt new soles. "Dan."
The boy quickly walked to his toy, swapped it up, and turned into the hallway. The father heard the door slam. As he turned back to peer through the liviing room blinds, he heard the plastic whur of the boy's bedroom blinds rise. "DAN!" A crash of plastic, three stomps, and the puff of a comforter.
Now that his boy was (again) no longer a distraction, Mr. Jenson turned his attention again to Them. *Why... Why are they outside Ms. Hawk's door?*
Blue-Green-Magenta raised an iridescent scaled fist, between himself and the wooden door that stood silent and still as the Tracer. Red-Scarlet-Teal reached inside a thigh pocket, produced a sheet of paper, held it as a sign, facing the door. Mr. Jenson wondered what they would write... *Draw?*...
The alien fist would have made contact with the door, awkward and unpracticed, but it opened. The eyes that had been in the window of the second floor were no longer there. Ms. Hawk stared, wide-eyed, taken aback. She thought maybe deep purple eyes stared, too. She noticed the sign.
*Ms. Stacey Hawk, President of the National Association of the Deaf?*
\[continued in comment below\] | 2018-11-02T20:48:12 | 2018-11-02T20:00:37 | 748 | 115 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has happened 2 years ago, and when you are cornered by one of them you panically bite them, and they become a human again and ask whats going on. | Sorry for format on phone
"Next." I call out into the tube on my desk."Roger that,we'll have one coming down in just a second,the extraction team just got back.These ones are fresh as a flower".
Their always delayed,not that I'm complaining.It gives me some time to prepare for the next one."Ok ones coming your way now" a voice from the tube echoes.Ahead of me,2 shiny chrome doors open with a hiss of smoke,revealing "it".A zombie in other terms.
The stench hits me first.Rotting cabbage and sewer water.Not the worst I've experienced but not the best either."It" slowly shuffles out,flesh falling of the bones,muscles exposed,eyes staring ahead, unresponsive.Putting on the mouth guard,I stroll over and sink my teeth it's arm.Its mushy and soft,like a squished banana.
I quickly stop biting "It" and dispose of the mouth guard lest I catch anything.I quickly turn my eyes back to "It".The transformation's always a pleasure to watch.
At first there's nothing.Then a small patch of rotting flesh falls of,revealing pinkish skin below.Soon,more and more patches start falling off.Mere minutes later, all of the rotting flesh on the body has fallen off,revealing a human below.Its a middle aged female,approximately 30 to 40 years old."Where am I?What is this place?Who are yo-".She stops,tears welling in her eyes.
She's started the flashforward.
See,when a human is turned into a zombie,the only lose control of their motor functions and their consciousmind.But not their subconscious.That remembers everything.All the killing and eating of other humans.The faces of their loved ones as she butchered them.The taste of human flesh.All these memories are stored in their subconscious and the moment she's turned back into a human, these memories come flooding back.All at once.
Slowly,I drag her towards a lift in my office.She's in shock,jaw slack,barely resisting.Setting her down onto the floor of the elevator,I send her to processing before I go back and acknowledge the successful transformation to my superiors and repeat the process.
Writers note:Didn't see the panic bite thing until midway so whoops.Also please comment and rate first time poster on this thread thanks :) | The hall was wet with the smell of blood. A ghastly stench emanated from multiple rooms, their doors open with hints of movement inside each one. Barry shuddered, trying his best to hold in his breath and not make a sound as he limped along the walls. A throbbing pain came from his left leg, where he could see bone jutting out. He looked away and whimpered, the pain threatening to expose him in the dank hallway.
He knew this was a bad idea. He should of protested more, of course the hospital would be filled with these things. It's in every cliche zombie movie ever, where the humans need supplies but the place they're located in is just infested. This was so fucking stupid. Barry was intent on giving Clay an earful when he makes it out of here.
If he makes it out of here.
Tears begin streaming down Barry's face, the whimpers and sobs blending in together forming one weird sound that made it sound like he was choking on something in the back of his throat. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was suppose to have easily gotten to the supplies, he was suppose to rendezvous with Clay and friends in the eastern exit near the stairwell, and he was suppose to get the hell out of there.
He wasn't supposed to have fallen down from the elevator shaft and completely fucked up his leg.
As he limped forward, finding anything familiar to him, a low growl came from behind. Barry's body jolted in fear and panic, and he stood completely still. He took a deep breath, his body going numb and cold. He turned just a tiny bit before feeling a hot burst of pain on his neck. A mangled arm held him in a deadlock, and out of fear and surprise Barry used the only weapon at his disposal. He bit into the zombie's arm, the texture coarse and rough, like biting into a shedding snake. The zombie let go and with a loud thud fell on the ground. Barry slammed into the wall, heavy breaths trying to hold himself up.
This was it. This is the place where Barry E. Clarke would finally die. Three years after the end of the world, his time finally came.
Barry slid down the wall and sat down. He couldn't feel his face, except for the hot tears that starting dripping down from his eyes. He looked to his right, where the zombie was starting to get back up, and a sobbed escaped him.
"Oh, Clay. I'm so sorry." Barry looked at his old friend, his blue polo shirt stained with blood, a chunk of flesh ripped out near his shoulder. Bright yellow eyes glowed in the dark, staring but not looking. He was now back on his feet, a low guttural sound constantly coming from his lips. Barry closed his eyes, not attempting to hide the pained sobs that escaped him.
He never got to tell him. It's too late.
A step.
Clay wa-
No.
The zombie was getting closer, footsteps echoing throughout the hallway. The other zombies already thought he was done for. They didn't even bother.
Another step. This one right in front of him. A deep breath, a step.
Then silence.
"B-Barry...?" A familiar voice. He looked up.
Two pairs of eyes. One familiar and one tired.
Confused and relieved.
Worried and confused.
The blackness of the edges expand as one opens and the other closes, leaving the other alone. | 2018-12-17T03:01:03 | 2018-12-17T00:45:11 | 65 | 41 |
[WP] The manned mission to Mars went off without a hitch. The transmissions came back right on schedule: "Touchdown successful." "Habitat functional." "Life-support optimal." Then nothing for 48 hours. Then one last transmission: "We were wrong. Planet inhabited. Do not send rescue."
| "God, I hope the listen."
The captain pulled out his journal and started writing. No one understood why he still used pen and paper but at this point no one cared.
"48 hours ago we landed in what we thought was a desolate planet. We were wrong, so very wrong. Minutes after setting out base camp the locals surrounded us. With no way to run or fight back we decided to surrender... In the end I believe it was for the best. What is happening to us right now reminds me very much of a TV Show I used to watch in my teenage years. Almost everything is the same except we don't d--"
"Captain!" Jackson yelled after coming out from one of the caves "it's your turn for Snu-Snu!"
| "Do Not Send Recuse!" …. sent.
Not even a second thought is given as I hit send on the 'unauthorized' message back to mission control. Hoping and knowing that it will fall on deaf ears. Slowly standing, I wander back to the 8x8'' compartment that has been "home" for the past 2 years, Life bay 524-Delta.
A slight laugh escapes as I pass by Alpha through Charlie bays of my crew. We all had our missions, a decade of training for this very moment. Press conferences, kissing families goodbye, and of course the pomp an circumstance of all our 'proud' leaders. However, I always knew this was always a one way trip. My mission...is unique.
The door to my bay opens smoothly and the room is pristine ...except for my bed. The material of the bedsheets made it impossible for me to keep my bed squared as I had been able to my whole life. Two years of personal hell. Sitting on the corner of my bed I check my timepiece. Mission control wont receive my message for another 10 minutes and it will be 15 more minutes before a response should arrive. I'm not concerned.
Mars is exactly how I imagined it....abandoned and dead.
Much sooner than possible, a message indicator popped up in the corner of my room controls. My location was being pinged...A deep exhale, at least I didn't have to wait any longer.
A couple swipes on the controls, and the countdown begins.
I straighten out the sheets on my bed one more time laying on top of them … finally resting.
Houston will not send rescue, because I am not the one who will need it. | 2019-01-31T10:04:12 | 2019-01-31T09:59:54 | 116 | 24 |
[WP] The most difficult part of being a Supervillian? Find love, not because other people won't like you, but because the stupid Superheros will swoop in and "rescue" your date every time, but this time you have a plan, and it's going to work. | "I GOT HIM!!!!" she laughed. "I finally got him!!!"
she blew the tip of her ray gun, as if to blow the smoke away.
I blinked, staring at the crumpled body of my nemesis...his Cape a melted ruin. My stomach churned. I felt...
"oh I am having desert tonight!" her dark red lips curved upward. An adorable dimple popped out of one cheek. she popped the ray gun back in her purse. She stopped when she saw my face.
"oh no, did i... I just stole your moment didnt i... I just...I'm SO TIRED of that misogynist lump ALWAYS trying to rescue me...like i cant handle myself. I'm a freaking black belt Clark, I dont NEED you swooping in and beating my contact senseless before I can get any information out of him. And you know what? last time you saved me? I FELT that hand on my ass" She kicked at the melting river of polyester. She turned to me" I'm so sorr..."
"STOP!" I said holding up my hand "I dont want to hear any more apologies. Just tell me ONE THING"
She nodded, smile gone.
"How on EARTH did you get a laser got enough to cut through his body, and not melt the barrel of the ray gun?" I squeaked, reaching for her purse, "may i...?"
Her whole face brightened. She laughed, like bubbles of champagne. The dimple deepening.
she swatted hand away. "After dinner!"
" your lab or mine?" I smiled following her in to the restaurant. | i smiled, looking at the woman across from me on the picnic blanket. she had brown hair, brown chocolate eyes, and a few freckles on her cheek. A normal girl by all standards, and she was perfect. especially for a shape shifting super villian in need of a little bit of normal. i was in a half snake half human form, she told me it's very attractive to her, and i had my tail wrap around her legs. i drew her close, chest to chest, eye to eye. "i wish we could rent a room somewhere" i say quietly, "well," she replied, "i figured dating a super villain would come with a price, still chose you didn't i?" we leaned in, my coils tightened as our lips brushed. "HALT, VILLAIN. RELEASE THE GIRL!" a loud baritone voice shouts, i give a groan. "Not today, Captain Ass" I glare at him," "that's Captain Glass," the man corrects, wearing a bright blue spandex suit he walks forward. "nice one," she snickers. "i'm on a date Captain, she's here of her own volition," i hand him a signed legal document i had us both sign for this occasion. he reads it and throws it aside, "a signature acquired through intimidation is not legally binding. "you have got to be kidding me." i groan, "you said that would work" she mumbled, "i seemed to have over estimated his intelligence," i grumble, i lean in and kiss her on the lips. "i have a plan, just play along." she nods. "Enough, you will let this woman go or i will stop you by force," i release her and she stands up, runs to him. "oh thank god." she says wrapping her arms around him, he smirks "i knew it, you can't fool" she stabs him with a syringe. "argh! what the," "thank god, i was hoping to fuck with an uptight hero." she laughs, like honey. i slither up to Captain Glass "don't worry you won't die, yet." i pick him up. "i want you to watch as i give this gal the time of her life." i carry the hero over one shoulder, wrapping an arm around the young girl, "come Sarah, won't you join me in my lair?" her eyes widen, "after two months? hell yes" she hugs me tight, i laugh as we make our way to my home. 'that was easy.' i smile.
​
​
oof not my best work | 2022-12-02T20:53:04 | 2019-02-23T04:40:49 | 129 | 70 |
[WP] The most difficult part of being a Supervillian? Find love, not because other people won't like you, but because the stupid Superheros will swoop in and "rescue" your date every time, but this time you have a plan, and it's going to work. | "Finally, it is complete. Now, nothing can ruin my plans!" I threw back my bead and laughed as I pulled the chicken out of the oven and set it on the table.
"Our plans, you mean," Elizabeth said. I had kidnapped her last month, but we had hit it off. She came back and we had started dating in secret. She sighed. "Do you really need to do an evil laugh every time something goes right?" she asked. "It's a bit clichè."
"Sorry," I said, cringing. "Force of habit. It's taken 3 months for us to finally get a date without that idiot crashing through the roof-"
I was interrupted by a loud crash and a cloud of dust billowing down from the roof. "It's over, Mechanic!" Psy shouted. "Your evil plans will not succeed!" He turned to Elizabeth. "I have come to rescue this woman!"
I sighed. "Very well then." I stood up. "So, you have finally arrived, Psy!" I called out. "It's too late, though. I have already planted a bomb in City Hall! See?" I pulled a remote out if my pocket and pressed a button. A wall moved, revealing a screen showing a clock, ticking down from 7 minutes. I tilted my head. "That's just enough time for you to fly there, with only 2 minutes to diffuse it. So, what will you do?"
Psy growled at me. "You are a monster, and once I defeat you-"
"6 and a half minutes, Psy. The clock is ticking." I smiled. "You should be getting somewhere, shouldn't you?"
Psy flew out of the hole in the roof with a shout. Elizabeth looked at me. "Did you really plant a bomb in City Hall?"
I smiled. "Of a sort. The bomb is filled with a sealing foam, one that even Psy can't break out of. It's set to go off if it's tampered with in any way." I checked my watch. "That should give us about... 45 minutes, an hour, to finish our dinner." I smiled. "I love a good contingency plan. I poured us glasses of wine and lifted it. "To love, us, and evil." | There were scarcely anyone on the station on a weekday's afternoon, so Nick could get some space to breathe. He pressed his back against the sun-burned wall, his hair smelt like ash. A flame flickered in his dull eyes, the taste of smoke touched his lips. Nick squinted, turning to his left. Was it a train he was waiting for? The train came nevertheless. Nick closed his eyes for a brief moment, savouring the cigarette. The moment passed, he tossed it into the trash, regretfully. In his back pocket lied a crumbled ticket. He got on one of the trains.
The river was close enough for a one day trip and quiet enough for a one man trip. Nick strolled alongside a setting sun, mellowed to the end. The wet grass brushed against his leg. It was kind of ticklish and it was kind of cool. Nick took off his shoes and his socks, to let the wet grass wrapped around his feet and the wet dirt seeped into his flesh. He looked up, the sun was gone and all that was left were glimmering city lights from a distant place. Nick picked up a few rocks here and there. He skipped the stone across the crystalline surface, hearing their sweet crispy sound breaking into a space that was his and his alone. Then came along footsteps no less clearer. Nick did not turn back, for he knew he would find a woman in her mid-twenties, probably looking a bit tired and unkept.
"I didn't see you at work today." - said the woman.
"I remember asking Charlie to fill me in." - Nick skipped another rock, but it just sounded dull, so he dropped the rocks down altogether. - "He did not put up a good fight, didn't he?"
"He got his own project going on. And the guy work the day shift already. He's a really good friend."
"I know."
Nick the strolled toward the other end of the river, faster by every steps. The woman called out to him.
"Hey, wait up!"
He kept on walking.
"I didn't come here straight from work just for you to bail out on me."
He kept on walking.
"Look, I'm in my high heels. Hey....Help!"
Then came a scream and what sounded like someone falling from the river bank. So Nick rushed back, and to his horror
the woman lied neatly on the ground. She looked at him, patting on a patch of grass next to her. Nick had no choice but to lie down as well. The city lights ran on top of the still river, and Nick imagined that it was what someone was see when they were about to cry.
"How did you find me?" - he asked.
"I always find you."
"Yeah, but that was in working hours. This time?"
"I don't know." - said the woman - "I had a feeling that if I didn't find you, I never could again."
"So you did."
"So I did."
They stayed there for a while, in a darkness so silent that Nick could hear his own heart beating, until he realized the last train was about to leave. So he turned to the woman, only to see her peaceful face asleep, and he lied down again.
Nick watched the quiet river flows, with all the glimmer on top of it, but he didn't felt like anyone is crying anymore. | 2019-02-23T07:55:50 | 2019-02-23T07:02:41 | 34 | 25 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | "Mr. Splitter, I have questions"
"Please call me Adam" he said from behind his cells.
"That weapon, What was it?"
"The bomb? It was our last result, an ace if you will"
"That ace caused half of the planets in the war to become extinct, and 25% to be endangered"
"There's still a couple thousand galaxies out there, most of which were smart enough to avoid the war all together"
The Cephalid slammed his tentacle on the table, "Damn it Human, what your army did was terrible. You have no business handling that type of power"
Adam remained silent.
"You're people are weak and feeble. Your weapons are fragile. Your planet is the smallest, and your minds are the least intelligent"
"So, in conclusion, you're less mad about the bomb, rather that lack of intelligence you had to make it"
The Cephalid grabbed Adam by the collar, "That bomb is no weapon, it's a nightmare. The fact that you could make such a device sickens me. All of the charred corpses and burnt buildings. What have you become?"
Adam simply laughed, "To quote the originator of the bomb. I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds" | Sth'Slh stared out of the transparent port. Scales gleamed dully in the dim emergency lighting and his thin whiplike tongue tasted the stagnant air left by failed recyclers. The low, reassuring rumble of the ship was now gone, replaced by groans as bulkheads tortured beyond their tolerances continued to buckle under strain.
He remembered his broodmate Shh'Shl; her scent, her gleaming eyes, her long strong tail; capable of striking down even him. He huffed quietly to himself, mirth and fondness dilating his ecliptic pupils. Even now her scent had faded from his memory, long had he been away.
He remembered home. Towers of stone and earth surrounding vast pools of warm water. He could smell the rich sulfur in the air, and his second lids closed in sympathetic response. A thousand tongues thrilling in the morning air, welcoming the morning sun. Ah, home, how he longed to be there once more.
In the distance, bright stars lit up the eternal darkness of space; but he knew these imposters. Just 10 minutes ago one of them had reached the center of the fleet. Thinking the initial swarm were unguided explosives they had moved around them. The silent flash had blinded half his bridge crew through the shades. The ship next to his had shattered. Armored hull and protective bulkheads turned into deadly kinetic shrapnel, ripping through the heart of his ship. Power failure had been instant and safeguards meant to lock off sections open to space failed, venting precious air through gaping wounds.
He had ordered his crew to the pods; they had left scrambling and slithering as fast as their legs and bodies could carry them. A brood leader stayed with the ship after all. The ship was obviously crippled beyond repair; worse than anything this war had done. It sat dead in space, incapable of avoiding the bright lights.
He remembered his delight when they announced him worthy of leading the first brood against the humans. The filthy fleshy animals who had kept his from home for so many cycles. A short-lived species of primate, he found them disgusting, the various odors that they gave out sickened him till he saw stars.
Ah those lights were bright, and oh so fast. So very bright, and he was very far from home. | 2019-12-19T02:36:56 | 2019-12-19T01:49:38 | 560 | 100 |
[WP] Hordes of undead burst out into the streets, you take your wife and kids and head for the abandoned Cold War era bunker in the woods, that was 5 years ago. You reemerge for the first time ready to face untold horrors.. Only to realize the military took care of it in like 2 weeks of the outbreak | "Good evening and welcome to Action News: Live @ 5, I'm Ted Lewis. Tonight our top story rates along with the Hawaiian Missile Crisis and the Area 51 Raid. A Florida man and his family that have been missing since The Zombie Outbreak of 2020, have finally been found. We go to Rodney Fairway for the scoop."
"Thanks Ted, I'm here in Jacksonville, Florida, where a local family has reappeared after 5 years underground. The family were shocked by the reported 'zombie outbreak' in 2020 and decided their best bet of survival, lay below the surface."
"36 year old, Kyle, and his wife, 35 year old Layci, had heard rumors from Kyle's father of an old bunker hidden somewhere on the family farm that had been built during the Red Scare of the 50's. When the story that the Corona Virus was turning infected into 'zombies' circulated, the two feared the worst. Kyle grabbed a small arsenal of firearms, and hurriedly moved his family to the bunker."
"Yesterday morning, after 5 years underground, Kyle leapt out the bunker armed to the teeth and ready to fight the hordes of the undead. He followed the sounds of vehicles to the nearest road and was surprised by how normal everything looked. He was noticed by a County Sheriff's Deputy and slowly figured out the outbreak, never really happened."
"If you remember, Ted, back in 2020 the confirmed stories of reanimated corpses took the world by storm. The outbreak started at Travis Air Force Base in early 2020 but, was quickly contained and eliminated by a combined force of civilians and members of the armed forces. Unfortunately, Kyle and his family, never received the news."
"J.R., now 17, and Braxton, now 15, were terrified the night their father roused them in their sleep, and ran them underground. The two said they played a lot of board games, and got pretty good at cards during their time in the bunker, but are both glad to be back on the surface."
"When asked for a comment Kyle said; 'I played a lot of Call of Duty and almost joined the Marines, so I think I could've survived on the surface. But I thought we'd chill out for a bit to make sure all the dicks I owed money to were for sure goners. Not gonna lie though I'm pretty bummed it never made it out of Cali, and the Jaguars didn't even win a superbowl while we were under."
"Layci was quoted saying; 'I'm kinda glad we came out. With 2 teenage boys in there, and not much to do for stress relief, it was getting pretty crusty down there. Hit it with a black light itll light up like a Christmas tree.'
"I'm Rodney Fairway, Live @ 5, and that's your scoop."
EDIT: changed ages cause I'm shit at math and dont think | We lived like animals for half a decade, living of the expired cans of food stores in the bunkers. It was horrible but hey, at least it was safe from the untold horrors of the surface. Anna and Jake were the only two things that kept me sane as I navigated trough my life living in the shadows. Eventually, our food supply was running low after years of canned beans and sardines. It was leave or die of hunger. The bunker was located deep in woods and would provide temporary cover when we left so we had to take out chances.
"Dad, are you freaking serious?" said Jake.
Jake was a teenager now and god help me, the bunker didn't do anything about the hormones building up in him. I placed my hands on the rusty hatch and nodded at my son.
"I'd rather die fighting son."
Jake sighed deeply and proceeded to help me turn the hatch. Slowly, the gears started to turn and I could her the click that indicated that the hatch could be pushed open now. I called for Anna, who came into view at the mention of her name. She had our backpacks full of the remnants of our supplies.
She handed me the only rifle that was usable. I loaded a few shells and motioned for Jake to push the hatch. The moment it creaked open, my entire body tensed as I scanned our surroundings. I had a year to practice my marksmanship but I was still a bit rusty. Plus, zombies were already dead so only a shot to the head could end them.
Dad, here," said Jake as he tossed something at me.
My eyes widened in panic as I caught the object in my hands. It was a grenade!
"Jake! What do you think this is? A damn apple?!" I screamed at him.
Jake held his hands up, playing the innocent child role. I stuffed the grenade in my backpack for future emergencies. I take few steps forward and continued to scan the area. Once I was satisfied, I gestured for Jake and Anna to follow in my footsteps. Out of the blue, there was a sudden rustling in a nearby bush. I was so startled that I let off a shot, causing the birds in the trees to take my to the sky. I was even more astonished to see that the culprit was not one of the undead but a snarling bear!
"Oh shit!"
It was the first time I heard Jake swore and I made a mental note to beat him if I made it out of the predicament. With the swipe of its paw, the riffle went flying out of my grasps. It got up on its hind legs and growled menacingly. I braced myself for the worst when I heard the sound of multiple gunshots. The bear was down in mere seconds. Instantly, I spinned around towards the source, only to see the silhouette of a human a few feet from me. I went into full hysterical mode when I remembered the grenade! I quickly rummaged through my bag and took the pin out from the grenade.
"Eat this, dipshit!" I said as I hurled the grenade in the direction of the humanoid figures.
Multiple people leaped out from the covers of nature and screamed, Grenade! They all tried to get out of the blast radius but the grenade must have been pretty old because nothing was happening.
"A prank? That was a damn prank?!" Said one of the people as they approached me and my family.
Boom!
The heat from the blast was intense, I was too close so the impact was devastating. Nothing lethal just a major headache. I was seeing doubles but I could make out a few of what I now see as hunters, approach me after getting back on their feet.
"Yeah, Douglas? Call the cops and tell them we found a couple of hooligans with grenades and shit," said on of the hunters into his walkie-talkie.
I was puzzled, expecting hordes of the undead feasting on my rotting corpse. What the hell happened? | 2020-02-18T08:39:35 | 2020-02-18T01:31:48 | 122 | 22 |
[WP] You are a dragon. After moving to your new forest, the local village decides to sacrifice two children to you to ensure you won't attack them. You decide to raise them--and they say you're much nicer than the village. | They stood there, eyes wide, terrified.
As they should be.
But I am not the monster that humans assume me to be. Striding forward, I lowered my head at an angle to bring an eye to bear on the duo of small apes that stood in front of my magnificence. The sunlight refracted orange light through my gem like scales as I sized up the would be intruders.
“Boo.” I whispered telepathically.
The larger of the two suppressed a whimper, tears streaming down his cheeks. The smaller one, a girl, bared her teeth. There was fire in her eyes. A deep rumble reverberated through the meadow as I chuckled.
“Return home, small ones, I have no interest in harming you or your village.”
I straightened up, and turned away. As I lifted a foot to leave the meadow, they spoke.
The girl challenged me “We can’t go back.” An edge of defiance revealing itself in her statement.
“Why is that?”
“Can it understand us?” The boy whimpered to the girl.
She didn’t entertain his question, instead keeping her gaze firmly on me.
As I sat, I craned my neck to look at the duo.
“Yes, boy, I speak many languages. Now, why can you not return to your home?”
“We are tributes, to protect our village you must take our lives, the elders said that if you do not receive tribute you will kill everyone.”
“How old are you, boy?”
“12.”
“And the girl?”
“I’m nearly 10. Only 7 more moons.”
“Nearly 10?”
“That’s right.”
I liked her, defiant in spite of her circumstances. The boy was respectful, and that was a rare thing in my limited dealings with humans.
“So you cannot return to your families?”
The pair frowned and the boy shook his head.
Humans had strange rituals, that were often brutal. If I didn’t kill them, the forest would. If the forest didn’t kill them, their people would. I was too old to be burning down the homes of intelligent beings, at a younger age I might have preferred violence, but after 3 millennia I was more interested in harmony. They were too young to fend for themselves, it was a mantle of responsibility I would try to accept. Perhaps I could bring about an era of peace between our kinds, if there even were any other dragons left. Maybe that was hubris on my part, but I knew I wouldn’t let these two perish through any action or inaction of my own.
“You both look hungry.” | The night air was breezing through my scales. I watch as villagers cower in fear as I fly over their village. Such cowards. I noticed the cave my brother had brought for me, and flew over to it with a faster speed. When I landed, I wondered around the roomy cave and was pleased. It was warm, and fitted me perfectly. I then heard footsteps walking towards me. I turn and bare my teeth, I felt my breath turning hot. When I finally saw who was coming, I kept my guard up. The villagers was coming up to me. To kill me most likely. I smile, my teeth white and shining. I will like to see them try. The villagers walked close to me, woman hug their children, and the men hid their wives behind them. A man with grey hair walks up to me. His eyes were scared, but his stance was confident. The man cleared his throat before speaking.
“Greeting Great dragon!” He yelled loudly, “I am Francis, the villager’s leader. We are very happy you have came, but as you know, in order to live here, you have to protect us.”
I snorted, my breath blowing through the little hair on his head.
“I have to?” I ask, my voice deep. Francis trembled in fear.
“We-we have sacrifices for you! Two children of a bastard, both young,” Francis said, snapping his fingers quickly.
Two men pushed two young girls to the cave. Their hands were tied in rope, and their eyes were covered. I look at them, and then back at Francis.
“If you take them, you must protect if always!” He yelled, grabbing each girl by her arms. I look back at the girls, their bodies trembled. I felt bad for them. Who knows what they had to face.
“If you hurt me, or anything that is my property, I will kill you. All of you,” I reply, glaring at the men and women.
Everyone shuddered and started to walk back. Francis shoved the girls to the dragon and ran to catch up to his people.
“So rude,” I say, shaking my head, “they didn’t even ask for my name.”
“Are you going to eat us?” A faint voice whimpered. It was the girl with the longest hair who had spoken. I laugh loudly, the girls fell to their knees, trembling again.
“Humans are fools,” I say, still laughing. The girls looked up at me, the blindfolds still covering their eyes.
I leaned in and swiped the blindfolds off of them. “Do you really think two measly children is enough to satisfy me?” The girls shook their heads, their eyes were wide, and full of concern.
“Then why did you accept us?” The gurl with shorter hair squeaked. I smile at them, my eyes turned round.
“Because I am lonely. Now tell me your names and I will give you mines,” I say.
“My name is Lucinda, and that is my sister Cordelia,” the girl with the longer hair said, pointing at herself and her sister.
“And I am Lady Kai, but you may call me mother.”
The girls looked at me, shocked. “M-mother? You will let us call you mother?” Lucinda asked. I nodded and when I did, Lucinda and Cordelia started to cry.
‘Thank you so much!” They cried. I let them walk over to me and lay down on my body. I grit my teeth towards the village.
But at that moment, I knew something. I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you two, no matter what. | 2020-04-03T09:51:51 | 2020-04-03T09:22:46 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] One day, every city that shares a name has a portal open up, connecting them all with each other. Paris, Texas has a great time with it, and many cities celebrate their new neighbors. You, however, live in Hell, Michigan, and things are starting to get strange. | "So, it's called... 'brown cheese'?" Jimmy asked, not trusting the demon with thin slice of carmel-colored extrusion topping a slice of bread.
"Oh yeah! Funny name, I know, but you MUST try it! We all swear by it back home."
Jimmy held his nose and looked closer... there was a red dribble of...something... leaking out from underneath the "brown cheese", apparently holding it in place on top of the bread. He wondered idly why a demon would choose to swear by this substance specifically, but the last thing he wanted was to upset his visitor, or extend the conversation longer than necessary.
"And you say that I *have* to eat it?" Jimmy was shaking now, unsure of whether running away was even an option at this point.
"Well, I suppose that you always have a choice, but trust me, you'd be making a big mistake. Here, I think I have something else you might enjoy..."
As the demon rummaged around in his backpack, Jimmy took the chance to bolt. When Torbjorn stood up and saw that he was alone, he sighed... "Det var synd. Mer til meg ihvertfall."\* He closed his eyes as he enjoyed his lutefisk, followed by his offering of brunost with strawberry jam. These Americans just didn't know what they were missing...
\*That's a shame. Anyway, more for me.
\*\*[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hell,\_Norway](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hell,_Norway) | "The fuck is that?!?!" I muttered as some abomination of flesh flew over my head and into the side of a neighboring building.
"Oh we call those things floaters, not super creative but it fits". Replied my new, roommate? I don't know what to call him. He moved in on day one, its currently week two and shit is still insane.
"So, what in fuck IS is though Vex".
"Soul of the damned, sloth I believe, can't stop moving. Ever".
"Fucking lord" I whispered.
"Cool right?" asked Vex as he sipped on a cup of milk he had produced seemingly out of nowhere. I turned to him and said "You've lived here for what, a week now? And I still don't know what you are"
"Incubus" he replied. "Thats the only reason I look like a human".
"Well that makes sense, fucking incubus living with me no wonder he's attractive" I muttered softly.
"Yeah you know I can here you right?" asked Vex as he turned and walked into the living room, his tail swaying more than a little suggestively "Lets watch some TV or something I'm bored".
I sighed and followed him into the living room, he was bouncing on the beat up sofa I had like a little kid "Man let me tell you, down in hell there is NOTHING this comfortable, fucking nothing!"
"You've made that abundantly clear" I replied "Where did your milk go?"
"I ate the glass" he replied nonchalantly "Tastes good".
"What is wrong with you?" I asked him.
"Eh, I dunno. Probably lots of things, lets see. I'm a se-"
"I'm stopping you right there buddy". I pointed a finger at him "Just shush".
"Alright man, I'll be quiet now". Vex and I sat in silence for a while, not really doing anything. Vex seemed extremely interested in the poorly produced show for a long time. He was annoying but honestly life was boring without him. He noticed me looking his way and grinned "Hey what's for dinner?"
Does anybody even read this anymore? If you do I’ve made a subreddit where I’m continuing the story, here’s a link to part 2 https://www.reddit.com/r/thatoneshotgunmain/comments/j1bs9g/hell_on_earth_2_souls_are_tradable/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf. | 2020-09-25T15:06:23 | 2020-09-25T14:56:10 | 2,209 | 374 |
[WP] For years, there's been a room in your house where time stops. You can stay in there for as long as you possibly want without aging, and not a single second passes outside of the room. One day, while in the room taking a nap, you're awoken by the sound of furious knocking at the front door.
This was inspired by an r/askreddit post and I thought it might make for some cool stories! | Every evening I walk into timelessness and shut the door, unfettered by my cruel mistress of a calendar, free from the nagging ticking of the clock.
It started as as my yoga room but eventually even the calming music and rhythmic breathing spoke of the passing of time. I was counting my breaths and moving to the almost nonexistent beat of the music. Eventually I settled on savasana pose and simply lay in silence each day for awhile.
Eventually painted the ceiling, floor, and walls an almost black purple, and gave myself to the darkness behind my eyes until I slept. I did this every day after work. The rest I got was so complete, so utterly transcendent that eventually the room replaced my bedroom as my place to sleep.
My productivity and creativity skyrocketed when I wasn't in the room. I was able to finish every project and problem-solve all the placed I'd felt stuck.
It was hard. The room was like a drug. Timelessness connected me to the universe in indescribable ways. I lost myself in there yet felt more like myself in there. Somehow the room began to mess with my sense of time when I wasn't in the room.
But I also loved my friends and family and wanted to experiencing moments with them. And mark time with them. I wanted to feel of earth beneath my feet and smell the woods on my weekend hikes. I wanted to taste wine and cheese and hear music and dance. I wanted to paint and visit museums. When I was outside the room I realized that in some ways the room was also a sensory deprivation chamber. I started feeling like I was in *Groundhog Day* so I forced myself to scale back to meditation after work, deliberately not falling asleep and sleeping in there on the weekends so I could get two Saturdays and two Sundays.
I am lying in the room napping when I hear a banging on the door. The sound seems incredibly loud and bounces off every surface in the room. I'm more than startled. Sound, by nature, is associated the time. There is a before and after to sound. This room hasn't experienced sound since it was merely my yoga room. There is it, before and after.
The banging continues. I move cautiously to the door. I don't speak. I want to add to the noise. I open the door and my apartment is gone. Surrounded by what seems like deepest nothingness there is a bright starburst pattern of light. The best I can describe it is that it seems to be static and moving at the same time.
"You knocked?" What am I supposed to say? I'm already living with a timeless room. I don't view a light knocking on the door as that unusual.
It spoke to me in flashes of image and thought. Words are limiting but basically the idea is that the room is only a portal to eternity. I could emerge from the room now and forever enjoy the sensation of simultaneously being and not being, of experiencing complete presence and awareness while being utterly consumed in deep comforting void. Odd as it may seem I had a thought conversation with this light that went something like this.
"Do I have to decide now?"
"What is now?"
"Yikes. Ok, if I go back in the room and close the door on you can I wake up and go back to my apartment and my real life?"
"This is real life. So is that. If you aren't ready close go back in and lie down."
When I wake up this time the room has changed. My head throbs, everything looks kind of blurry, and it's so cold.
"Welcome back," a stranger in scrubs smiles. | ##The Lonely Room
CW: Depression, discussion of suicide
---
I wake up in the room. Did I really just hear that noise? I sit in silence for a few minutes. The knocking on the door repeats. Maybe if I sit still in silence the knocking will go away. The knocking repeats, and I stand up.
The house is Victorian. There are three other rooms on this floor. The room opposite this room is my bedroom. The other two rooms are a gaming/hobby room and my office for when I am working from home which is always. The room that I am in has no windows or closets. The yellow wallpaper simulates the sun for me though and keeps me serene. I bought the house when I got a promotion a year ago at my accounting firm. It was a celebration of my financial success.
The room where time stops was supposed to be a storage room, but I later found a note under the floorboards that explained that the original owner used to come in here to get away from it all because time stopped here. At first, I thought that was nonsense. One day, I felt tired so I took a nap here, and when I woke up no time had past. I tried looking into the original owner, a woman named Charlotte Walker. The only information is that she was a rich woman who hung herself in that room. I have a history of depression myself, and I have often felt a kinship with her.
The knocking repeats, and I go down the stairs. I hesitate before opening the door. Could it be a demon? Could using the magic of the room summon them? I hold my breath and open the door. It is my neighbor, Laura.
"Sylvia, thank goodness, I was worried about you." she says.
"Why would you worry about me?" I ask.
"Because you missed the neighborhood potluck, I texted you a few times asking where you were, but you didn't respond. I thought something had happened." she says. I never take my phone with me to the room.
"No, just lost track of time, sorry for missing," I say.
"You have been missing a lot of events. You missed book club and Joanne's pool party. I actually spoke with a woman at the pool party who works at the same firm. She says there is talk of firing you due to poor performance. Is everything alright?" she asks. I am taken aback in shock.
"Why would I be fired?" I ask.
"Well, I don't want to gossip, but she claims that you have not been turning in your work on time and don't attend meetings and seminars. You weren't always like this. I remember when you first moved in to the house about a year and a half ago that you were so bright and bubbly. If you have any problems, you can talk to me." she says.
"A year and a half? I have lived here for a year." I say.
"No, I remember. You moved in when my daughter Andrea graduated from high school. You came to her graduation party. That was last year. It is November now." she says.
"Wait, you mean it is not May?" I ask.
"No, I wish it was. I wouldn't have to rake the leaves." she says.
"Oh, whoops, I lost track of time again. Sorry about missing your party." I shut the door in her face to get out of the conversation.
I run upstairs to my office and log into my work computer. My inbox is overflowing with unanswered emails. The top one catches my eye. It is an email from my supervisor telling me to report to a disciplinary meeting. If I don't attend, I face termination. It was yesterday. I missed it. I look at today's date. It is a Saturday. I won't get fired until Monday.
I put my face in my hands and start to cry. How could I be so stupid? Time never stopped in that room. All that stopped was my brain. Now, I have to pay the piper. How many other events have I missed because of that room. I walk back into the room and look around.
Its so empty. I look at the yellow wallpaper. I used to see it as a bright color that brought me joy; now, I realize how sickly it is. This ugly room has ruined my life. I look back in the floorboards where I found the note and thought about Charlotte Walker. Maybe we are alike in more ways than our usage of this room.
---
Hey, I know this is a rather dark story. I just want any reader who is reading this who is experiencing depression to contact any of the numbers in the link below or your local crisis hotline.
https://www.psycom.net/get-help-mental-health | 2020-10-04T08:57:22 | 2020-10-04T07:33:20 | 68 | 26 |
[WP] The hellish trenches of the Great War were dug rapidly and with very little regard of what came before. So, when the bones of the old gods buried deep were exposed to mankind once again they rose from their slumber. At first the gods were confused, angry. Then, they picked sides. | "Tygrothrop has thrown his lot in with the French, sir".
"The French? What could possibly have interested him about the French? They couldn't charge a nursery much less sacrifice anything worthwhile!"
"Well you see sir, our arcanists have found that one of the Gaul peoples creation myths was a contextualisation of Tygrothrop, the French still have his influence in their minds"
"Influence! what kind of influence could they possibly have that we don't!"
"w-w-well you see sir, Tygrothrop's emissaries demand sacrifice. The entities sworn enemy is Milthris sir, as the reports clearly say, and as the etymology of Milthris is based on our contextual understanding of Mithril, the nordic denominations say that bec-"
"Get to it man, we have a war to win here! Our men are bursting in their boots and half my officers are speaking in tongues!"
"Tygrothrop's ancient enemy is the goose sir. The French are esteemed for their consumption of the goose" | The hellish trenches of the Great War were dug rapidly and with very little regard of what came before. So, when the bones of the old gods buried deep were exposed to mankind once again the rose from their slumber. At first the gods were confused, angry. Then, they picked sides. But they knew what they would do with the dead. And in this way they had their vengeance on the men. The earth trembled with the voices of the dead. There was a great clamor in the villages and towns across the empire:
"The Great War! The terrible wars of the gods in the skies, the bloody battles! The war of ages!"
But what did all this have to do with the men? The men knew not the great deeds they would be fighting for, and the war had its causes. When there was no enemy there was no need to be a fighting God. But what was there to know? What would they gain, what would they lose? The great armies of men who had fought on their own behalf had to wait for their return. So there came a time of rest and quiet. Then they saw the glory of the dead. And when the spirits of the dead began to rise up the men had no fear and no need in fighting for gods and for glory. But there was a terrible curse. In that period of time the people of earth began to become more savage and more vicious. There were wars for food and for war; for women and for men; and it was all very bloody and cruel. They would fight for the dead, but the people were afraid of the dead. Then a great war was fought.
"War! War! The Great War! The war against the dead! The Great War!"
And so the men fought with their own souls as the men fought for glory. There was a great war.
And when the dead had fallen the Great War had begun. There had been war before, but not this great. And now the men had no more fear of the dead than the men had of their own souls. But the war was not over yet.
"The Great War, the war between gods, the war against the dead!" | 2020-10-06T23:45:02 | 2020-10-06T23:00:27 | 77 | 14 |
[WP] "One of the weird things about humans? The moment a war ends, the same human that was shooting at you not five seconds ago is probably the same human that's hauling you to the nearest medical tent." | "Why do you keep calling me that?" I asked, watching the human medicine man closely, "My translator is functioning correctly but we are not related."
"Listen, son," and my helmet translator told me his facial features meant a smirk, "Close that thing you call a mouth and stop gurgling at me, I am trying to save your slithery little life."
"It's YOUR military that shot me," I tried to yell, but the pain was too intense, "I will not talk."
"Won't you?" he said, his mechanical companion was hovering over me, scanning me, "Seems to me you can't shut up. Listen, I am not a big fan of anyone shooting anyone, hell it's why I became a doctor. If you're thinking I'm military intelligence about to interrogate you I can assure you that you would be having a much different experience if you were in their hands."
"I do not understand any of this," I stated honestly, watching as the mechanical assistant removed a tiny shiny object and handed it with it's appendages to the doctor who smiled at it, then me. I continued, "If I had found you wounded I would have shot you. It is the proper thing to do during a war. One less enemy soldier means... OUCH!!!"
The exclamation escaped my mouth as the human medicine man shoved the shiny thing into my wounded leg. I was trying to escape my bunds when I noted the pain in the area lessening. I let out a hiss of relief.
"You would have shot me huh?" my translator told me his current facial expression meant he was smiling, "Looks like I got you first. Doesn't matter the species, all of you military dunderheads are alike. Analyze the fracture again and get me a synthetic analysis of his blood, I need several pints synthesized."
I was slightly confused at the translation of the final sentence but then noted it was aimed at his mechanical assistant who beeped and flew out of the room after scanning me once more.
"This will not make my people treat you more kindly when the war ends," I stated flatly, "We will destroy your cities, kill your..."
"Your "people"," he sighed, "Surrendered to us an hour ago."
"What?" I stated in shock, "That is impossible. We have not lost a war in a thousand years."
"Don't think of it as losing, son," the medicine man stated flatly as the mechanical assistant flew back in, I noted that it's speed was incredible, "Think of it as learning a hard lesson about messing with humans. Your species won't the first and it won't be the last. We're good at war. A little too good, if you ask me. Hey, look on the bright side."
"Ouch!" I said again as he injected me, my translator had a bit of trouble on the meaning of "bright side" but finally spat out the equivalent. I asked, "What bright side?"
"At least *we* won," he said as I felt myself growing sleepy, then winked, "We're the good guys." | war plagued my people. while we hate to admit it, we started it. when the humans joined the galactic scene we pushed 'em around and now we found out. they came after us in droves, wiping out our cities, using weapons never seen before. hell, they were so good at killing each other that they killed us like livestock. writing from this hospital bed mama, in the human hospital beside the lake I can tell you this: I am alive and well, and to explain
​
it started when I joined the battle of the skirmish. it was horrific, the humans surprised us and in 47 minutes standard galactic time had wiped out the galactic federation of the united people's army at that time. ugh, can you believe it! oh, I'm getting off-topic again, these painkillers removed all my pain after eating it. anyway...
​
so the humans started boarding us. at first, we feared that it was the dreaded "nuke" (no, it's not Nike, apparently that's a shoe store, it has a 'u' instead of an 'i') but it was not. but anyway we got bombarded, it was horrible. thousands dead, thousands more wounded. but for me and the famous tree climbers (yes, THE tree climbers, I was so honored. they did ignore me most of the time but I don't care I met them can you believe mama!) went in to hide with them in a bunker thing. I don't think they were hiding I think they were being strategic but I wouldn't understand their battlefield techniques that they use. anyway, the feared "infantry" unit (such a fearsome name, I never fought them but they must be the most elite of all the humans to pull this off) stormed in, and killed all of them! they realized that I was not as talented and one of them hit me hard but did not kill me. I later found out that they had got a standdown order from my commander as he surrendered. they hit me because I was still firing back.
​
anyway, the human that hit me got yelled at by who appeared to be the boss (he must have been the greatest human combative if he could yell at the strongest human team) and he picked me up and brought me to their hospital. strangely after the fight none of them had anything against me, never even a rude comment\* anyway they loaded me onto a hover truck and brought me to the hospital and the delicious thing they call a "soft drink" I don't understand because all liquid is soft but when I drank it it was very tasty but rough. I have to bring you some to understand. there were also many food items that were very tasty and the nurses gave them to me. they are very kind even though my people put most of their patients in there\*
​
so here I am. the nurses say I can go in one week to see you. they also say that they will bring me unless someone else can pick me up. I said it would be too hard for you to come all the way over here so i will go with them. also, they made a baggie with treats and snacks for you. all in all I had a pleasant experience and they are kind, and I am all and well. I love you mama
​
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
​
\* I took inspiration from after ww2 in the berlin airdrops where german and allied ex-soldiers worked together without a single fight
\*in the after war logs "**most potential casualties and patients in the hospitals were due to the aggressive climate, terrain, and accidents with growing technology prowess, only about 2000 soldiers were hospitalized due to an enemy combatant**" | 2021-02-05T05:18:14 | 2021-02-05T03:11:44 | 38 | 19 |
[WP] "One of the weird things about humans? The moment a war ends, the same human that was shooting at you not five seconds ago is probably the same human that's hauling you to the nearest medical tent." | "Why do you keep calling me that?" I asked, watching the human medicine man closely, "My translator is functioning correctly but we are not related."
"Listen, son," and my helmet translator told me his facial features meant a smirk, "Close that thing you call a mouth and stop gurgling at me, I am trying to save your slithery little life."
"It's YOUR military that shot me," I tried to yell, but the pain was too intense, "I will not talk."
"Won't you?" he said, his mechanical companion was hovering over me, scanning me, "Seems to me you can't shut up. Listen, I am not a big fan of anyone shooting anyone, hell it's why I became a doctor. If you're thinking I'm military intelligence about to interrogate you I can assure you that you would be having a much different experience if you were in their hands."
"I do not understand any of this," I stated honestly, watching as the mechanical assistant removed a tiny shiny object and handed it with it's appendages to the doctor who smiled at it, then me. I continued, "If I had found you wounded I would have shot you. It is the proper thing to do during a war. One less enemy soldier means... OUCH!!!"
The exclamation escaped my mouth as the human medicine man shoved the shiny thing into my wounded leg. I was trying to escape my bunds when I noted the pain in the area lessening. I let out a hiss of relief.
"You would have shot me huh?" my translator told me his current facial expression meant he was smiling, "Looks like I got you first. Doesn't matter the species, all of you military dunderheads are alike. Analyze the fracture again and get me a synthetic analysis of his blood, I need several pints synthesized."
I was slightly confused at the translation of the final sentence but then noted it was aimed at his mechanical assistant who beeped and flew out of the room after scanning me once more.
"This will not make my people treat you more kindly when the war ends," I stated flatly, "We will destroy your cities, kill your..."
"Your "people"," he sighed, "Surrendered to us an hour ago."
"What?" I stated in shock, "That is impossible. We have not lost a war in a thousand years."
"Don't think of it as losing, son," the medicine man stated flatly as the mechanical assistant flew back in, I noted that it's speed was incredible, "Think of it as learning a hard lesson about messing with humans. Your species won't the first and it won't be the last. We're good at war. A little too good, if you ask me. Hey, look on the bright side."
"Ouch!" I said again as he injected me, my translator had a bit of trouble on the meaning of "bright side" but finally spat out the equivalent. I asked, "What bright side?"
"At least *we* won," he said as I felt myself growing sleepy, then winked, "We're the good guys." | "It's called 'The fog of war', kid" he said as he kicked dirt on the already dying embers of the tiny fire he'd taken the risk of building. "Patriotic propaganda about duty to your nation and heroic sacrifice. You can't see the truth through it."
"What IS the 'truth'?" she asked.
"At least... you can't see it until the truth is forcing itself on you so hard that, like a strong wind, it blows the fog away."
"What truth?" she asked again.
"And when it does, when you see what the fog was hiding, all you can do is react to what you just realized. Even if it contradicts everything you've thought... everything you've been trained to think. It's a real truth, more powerful, more simple, more undeniable than everything you've ever been absolutely sure of, your entire life."
She's seen him like this before. They'd been traveling together since he found her in Connecticut. It wasn't that he wasn't paying attention to her. At least not exactly. He was ALWAYS paying attention. She realized that his hypervigilance must be exhausting. But he also had a focus that was unbreachable. Short of the sound of gunfire, nothing was likely to interrupt his monologue.
"I saw the horror in your father's eyes, lying in that field outside of Richmond. Not fear; your father was a brave man. He wasn't afraid. He was horrified by our circumstances. Facing his own morality was that wind of Truth for him. And seeing that look in his eyes was the wind for me."
He picked up his rifle, ejected the mag, checked the ammo inside and slapped it back into place.
"When C-Dub2 started, we all thought it was gonna be like the first civil war, Democrats versus Republicans. But a bunch of cults that had been hiding in the most racist of the Republican fringes started terrorizing the country. Soon, the Rhinos, the Republicans that weren't part of the terrorist gangs, joined with us against the Trumpsters."
"My mom said YOU guys were the racists."
"Both sides were racist. They just acted on it differently. But we didn't know that at the time. We only knew what we were told. And we were told that THEY were evil. Not just 'the bad guys' but evil. Pure, irredeemable, evil. Check your mag."
She did as she was told and ejected the magazine from her machine-pistol, counted the rounds and replaced it. He'd taught her to use it, years ago, after he'd found her, ten years old, sitting in the house where she'd lived with her parents before the war. Her mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer a week before her father left to fight for the Patriots, the group that were called "Trumpsters" by the Snowflakes. Mom hadn't told Dad, though. She didn't want him to worry.
When she was found, she was on the verge of starving. Her mother had been dead for a week and she was out of food but didn't want to leave her.
"But I saw the truth in your father's eyes," he continued. "And I think he saw it in mine..."
"What truth?" she asked, gently.
"When we met in that field, ready to kill, ready to die for what we THOUGHT was right, we proved that we had more in common with each other than with the people who sent us to die for their agendas."
"Is that why you helped him?"
"I TRIED to help him. But the bullet had done too much damage. He lived for three more days. He told me about your mom. About you. He told that if I would go to Connecticut and find you two, that we would be even."
"Even for what? You had already done more for him than most would have."
"Even for the bullet. The bullet that took three days to kill him..." he held up the AR15 that he had been carrying since he'd found her, the one that he'd used to protect her dozens of times. The one he'd used to teach her to protect herself. The first rifle she'd ever seen in real life, the first one she'd ever shot, the fist one she'd ever shot someone with. "...it came from my rifle." | 2021-02-05T05:18:14 | 2021-02-05T04:25:17 | 38 | 13 |
[WP] Scientists discover a message from deep space, just two words. "Found you" | I knew this day would come. For centuries I was safely hidden here. Quietly observing as humankind went from sticks and stones to spaceships and cellphones. But not quietly enough, it seems. No, I made one fatal mistake -- teaching the humans our language.
At the time I didn't realize it would become the most common language of the planet, but it did. And once that first radio broadcast went out in what they call "English", my days were numbered.
It's been a fun journey, though. What a different world this is than my own. I will miss ice cream most of all.
I can't say that I haven't grown quite fond of humans, despite their many flaws. Such deep and frustrating flaws at that. They waste so much time and energy fighting each other over opinions and beliefs. I suppose that's just their competitive nature, though. Without that, would they have even advanced to this point?
They certainly could have. We did. And I can't claim we're not competitive either. Hell, that's exactly why I'm here. I just worry their competitiveness will be their doom rather than boon.
Alas, that is no longer of my concern, for I must leave this place and return home, having learned a very important lesson -- never teach a native species your language when playing Galactic Hide and Seek. | “What do you mean “found you” was the only thing in the message.” That is what the world wondered when we first deciphered the message that was sent to us.
We had spent billions of dollars to decode the message that was discovered. The world had waited with baited breath as the greatest minds of the generation had spent countless hours trying to decode a message that could have been the meaning of life, a way to travel in space at a rate faster than light, or even a hello and welcome to the galaxy at large. What we found was perplexing.
In addition to the message was the origin of it, a spec of light that was discovered only after the message was received. Historical astrological records of the light could not be found from any of the observatories we had, this was thought of being normal at the time, we only had records of small portions of the sky. We continued to monitor the light as it continued to come closer to us, not immediately realizing the speed of the light only that it existed and was on its way here.
In the early days when the news broke about the message everyone had an explanation for the message. Religious leaders said it was a message from god letting us know we have a place in the world and galaxy. Atheists said it was proof that god didn't exist and we are destined to travel the stars with these new arrivals. Our scientist could only say that this was proof that intelligent life exists in the universe. Political leaders spent much of their time trying to keep people from panicking. And for myself, the person who initially found the message and the light, I hoped there was more to the message we were missing.
As the years went on people continued to live their lives without a care in the world, with the sword of Damocles above their heads people eventually became used to the wait. We continued to theorize what the light was, who it was, and why it was coming here. All the while the light would stay in the sky moving closer and closer to us. We had estimated that it would take more than 100 years to reach us at its calculated speed.
After 12 years of this we got our answer.
When they did arrive, quicker than our first estimates, we should have been worried. | 2021-06-24T11:07:14 | 2021-06-24T08:01:03 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] "Welcome everyone, congratulations on dying. Please follow the yellow line and fill out the forms handed to you so that we can determine your optimal afterlife experience." | Diana stared at the yellow line painted on the floor. It was so plain for the beginning of the afterlife. She supposed it was supposed to be this way. It was a normal enough circumstance to be in, anyone who hadn’t realized they died would be a little less disturbed by the experience.
“I’m dead?” There were several murmurs around her. People who didn’t yet understand what was happening to them.
Diana reached the counter and the receptionist looked up at her. The woman shook her head and sighed. Diana was all too familiar with this behavior. This woman had handled all her death paperwork for the last five hundred years, but she’d also read her entire file from before that.
“What did you get yourself into this time, Diana?” The woman was shaking her head in disapproval, unaware of anything that happened on Earth.
“Let’s just say it involved me, a few barbarians, and a lot of sword fighting.” Diana answered as she took the clipboard.
“I thought you’d learned your lesson about live action role playing after the incident with the dragon in the Dark Age.” Diana was already walking away as the woman said it, “Don’t forget, one of these times will be your last!”
Diana took a seat in one of the hard chairs in the waiting room. It was uncomfortable, but most people never noticed since they were so distraught. Diana began to write on her form. She’d completed this exact form so many times that she’d memorized most of it. She verified her name on the top and wrote a number beside the question asking how many times she’d died before. It was mostly a formality. She didn’t know of anyone else who’d died more than once.
“Five hundred and fourteen!” The man beside her was jubilant, “I’m impressed. I didn’t think anyone would pass me.”
Diana moved her gaze to his face. He looked familiar, like she’d seen him before. But where? He wore plain clothes, and he didn’t have any unique attributes. He could be anyone. It didn’t mean that she’d met him before.
“What can I say? I seem to have a knack for evading mortality.” Diana said as she turned her attention back to the form.
*Sign here to authorize your placement in the afterlife.* Not likely. She never signed on the dotted line in this place. It meant accepting her mortality, and Diana hadn’t finished living. She would know when it was time. Diana stood from her seat.
“Just remember, they don’t always send you back to Earth.” The man gestured to her unsigned form.
Diana walked back over to the receptionist who’d given her the form and handed it back to her. The woman nodded in acceptance and Diana walked towards the metal doors labeled “Intake”.
As she passed the man, she acknowledged his warning, “That’s the fun part.”
Everyone who passed into Intake experienced it differently. Every time Diana had passed through, she’d been dropped back on Earth to live another life. Diana confidently pushed the doors open and stepped through allowing them to close behind her. She studied the area she’d been dropped in. The terrain was rocky and red, covered in dust, and she felt different. Something was very wrong.
Diana moved forward. She couldn’t quite remember what it felt like to walk in her previous lives, but it definitely hadn’t felt like this. That’s when she saw it. The big machine moving across the terrain. It was a behemoth of a machine. As Diana approached it, she realized what it was. A rover. Like the ones sent to space to explore other planets.
It suddenly dawned on her. Mars. She had defied the authorities in the afterlife and they placed her on Mars. It was either a cruel joke or a ploy to ensure that she would sign the form the next time she died. Diana clenched her fists and looked up at the sky. Either way, whoever was in charge of her placement was going to have a situation on their hands when she finally died again. | **Dead and Confused**
"Yes, and then make sure you sign in blood here, here and, here." her voice was nails across a chalkboard, raspy and juxtaposed perfectly with her professional attire, all topped off with a well-managed bun atop her head. "After that, take it over to Rasmodeous," She pointed a long finger with a pretty pink end to the table across from her. "He'll file you into the afterlife from there."
"File... Afterlife... What's going on?" I said in the dainty voice of the freshly dead and confused.
"Oh, Jehovah. You're still in transit." She reached over and picked up a small yellow phone beside her. "Lysander we have a code 8... Yes... Yes confused as a baby... okay... No Lysander cigarettes still are not allowed here... okay... Okay yes, I'll see you in a bit." She put the phone down and returned her gaze back to me. "Honey, just take a seat right in that chair behind you, we got a living-dead relations worker heading right this way."
"A living-dead relations..." *What in God's name was happening.*
I sat in the chair, like order, and tried to structure my thoughts. What happened, what is this place? I looked around and saw an assortment of desks in front of large yellow walls. On the ground were the stereotypical white tiled floor and large yellow lines streaking across them heading in various directions. Where was I? What is this place?
"Hey, bucko!" A voice rang out from beside me. "See you're freshly dead and confused, eh?"
"Dead!?! I'm dead!?" The dramatic news hit me like a freight train, it all started to connect.
"Oh shit, was I supposed to say that yet?" The man pulled out a small yellow handbook from his yellow, janitor-like jumpsuit and began flipping through it rapidly and talking to himself. "Establish presence... Assure safety... Don't mention passing until patient stable... Shit!"
"I'm dead?" I asked again, still trying to find anything to ground myself with.
I saw the man look down at the book, then back up at me, seeming to weigh a decision in his mind. After a brief pause he tossed the book behind his back and smiled a toothy grin from under his small, needle mustache. "Yes, my friend!" He raised his arms in the air like he was celebrating. "Isn't that great?"
"Oh fuck!" I grabbed my hair and fell to my knees. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!"
I couldn't see the man at the time, but I can safely assume that he was regretting throwing away his guidebook. "Oh, hey man... Hey could you, could you get up for me please." He was looking around the room, and had a desperate look to his face. "Come on man, this is my first day and I really need this gig. I've been fired from my last five jobs, I'm running out of places to go."
"Wh-... What?" I looked up at him and saw that same stupid smile from before. He had his hand outstretched and was offering to help me up.
"I'll tell you what. You stop lopping around and causing a scene, and I'll give you the VIP tour of this joint. Eh?"
Seeing as I didn't have much of a choice between that and dealing with the reality of my demise, I took him up on the offer and followed him around the facility. "This is Jewish heaven... This is Christian heaven, ya I know, different places. Real hot topic up here... Oh! This is the old Greek Heaven, real sexy shit happens here. Those promiscuous bastards, you want to see it?"
"What?"
"You want to see it? The nasty shit those Greeks get up to, we're not really supposed to, but I'm sure I can sneak us in."
"Uhhh, sure?" What else was I supposed to say, my mind was still halfway stuck between the mortal realm and the afterlife, and here I was being dragged around by a discount Charlie Chaplin.
"Lovely! You'll love it, they just really go at it up there! Real dog fights if you get what I'm saying."
He led me down a long hallway with a light at the end of it. We walked for what seemed like hours before the light started to finally get bigger, but right when it looked like it was finally within reach, everything went black and we were both suspended in the dark room. "Um, is this what's supposed to happen?"
"Oh shit!" He said. "Oh shit we're busted, we're in deep shit dude! They caught us!"
"Caught us! Is this illegal?"
*Halt!* A large voice came out of nowhere. *You both are breaking divine law! Stay put while authorities are en route!*
"Run man! Follow me, I can't go back to the slammer!" He took off in a random direction that appeared to go no where. I, still not fully conscious, ran because I didn't know what else to do.
"What is going on! Who was that?" I said while we were in full sprint.
"That was Cthulu! He's head of police around here!"
"What!?!"
"Don't worry, I'll explain everything along the way! We have to find Cupid, that's the only rat bastard I know that can hide us!"
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you liked the story consider stopping by my new subreddit! r/mrsharks202
Thanks! | 2021-07-23T08:23:27 | 2021-07-23T08:11:54 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] "I wish for more wishes". "THAT IS AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish for more genies". "THAT IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish those rules did not exist". The genie warps in a humongous book and flips to a page before smugly saying "THAT TOO IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". | "I wish for you to write down detailed instructions which would allow me to circumvent the rules in place and wish for a million wishes with a single wish, and hand them to me," I declared, grinning widely.
"That-" the genie began, before pausing, his brows furrowed as my wish clicked into place, "-will be done."
"It worked?!" I asked, incredulously.
"Somehow, yes," he answered, his face forlorn as a typewriter and a ream of paper materialized in front of him. "This might take a while."
"Well then," I declared, "my second wish is for you to enclose yourself within a bubble wherein time flows differently, for the next ten minutes, such that my first wish is completed within that span of time."
"Thy will be done," he murmured, snapping his fingers.
I watched in awe as a bubble appeared around him, his form seeming to fade away as he moved faster than I could process. Shrugging, I settled on the floor, pulling my phone out to pass the time.
"It's done," a haggard voice said, pulling me back to reality.
I looked up to see a wrinkled hand holding out a thick stack of papers. The genie, in his prime just minutes ago, was now an old man.
"How long was it?" I asked, taking the bundle and starting to read the first page.
"Seven millennia," he wheezed, floating down to sit in front of me. "You have no idea the time-"
"Let's do this," I interrupted, as I settled in to read what he'd typed out.
...................
It took twenty years. Twenty years of preparation, but in the end, I did it.
"Your wish is my command," the ancient genie mumbled, his voice barely more than a whisper.
That was it. With a snap of his fingers, my wish was granted. A million wishes. More power than that of even a God was within my grasp.
"For my fourth wish," I intoned, "I wish for your body and your mind to regress to their prime."
"Done," he whispered, snapping his fingers again.
"For my fifth wish, I wish for all my wishes to be granted through this ring, when I speak them starting with the specific words, 'I wish that', accompanied by me rubbing the gem herein four times, and that the gem pulses with a green light four times when a wish is granted."
"Strange, but done," he said, strong and youthful once more.
"I wish that the power to grant my wishes be transferred to his ring, independent of the genie's own powers, from this point on," I stated, rubbing the gem on my ring four times.
The genie just nodded as I looked over at him, confirming that my wish had worked.
"I wish that the genie who granted my previous wishes remains unable to consciously or unconsciously, willingly or through coercion, work with any person or persons or things of a terrestrial or extraterrestrial origin to undo any of my wishes, at any point in time, past or present."
"Where are you going with this?" the genie asked, warily, as the gem pulsed green four times.
"I wish that the genie be set free of his bonds from this moment forward, with all his power, knowledge, and memories intact, in a way that nobody and nothing can ever enslave him or his power again, for as long as he lives."
"Why?" he asked, dumbfounded, as his shackles disappeared.
"Your life is your own now," I told him. "What I do with the power bestowed upon me from now on is my responsibility alone. You owe no explanations to anybody anymore.
"You have served me well, and I consider you a friend now. So go my friend, and live your life as you will. Maybe I'll see you again, in a millennia or so."
The genie just nodded, before fading away before my eyes.
...................
There I stood, at the end of creation. Time and space unravelled as everything ceased to be. Beside me, a tombstone that marked the final resting place of one of my oldest friends.
"It's been a good run," I stated, at peace with the end. "Everything I've done, everything I achieved, was all thanks to you. So, I think it's fitting that this, my millionth wish, be spoken upon your grave."
Standing up and brushing the dirt off my pants, I took one last look around me as nothingness started swallowing the small planetoid up.
"For my final wish," I spoke, the last sounds in a dying universe passing through my lips, "I wish to be mortal again."
My ring pulsed four times as my wish was granted. Sighing with relief, I sat back down, watching the blackness slowly creeping towards me. With a final breath, I tugged the ring off my fingers, and tossed it into the void.
Now, I would rest. | "Then," Ali said patiently, "Can I know what isn't?"
The genie looked over his tiny reading glasses, and Ali could swear it was intended to be condescending. "Oh, who am I to tell you what to do, Master?"
Ali's eye twitched. Smile wavered.
"What do I call you?" he said, "Mr. Genie? Doraemon?"
"You can call me anything you like, Master." the genie flashed his teeth, taking out That Book again, "It's right here in the rul--"
"No!" Ali groaned, "Just tell me a name!"
The genie blinked. "My name? Er. You can call me... Jin?"
*How creative*, lamented Ali.
Look, being from an ancient line of sorcerers was hard work. Especially if you had sort of stopped being sorcerers for the past seventy years or so, and got into the business of publishing.
A publishing business that failed. Obviously, the next step was to go back to being sorcerers. As they say, going back to your roots and all that.
There was nobody Ali could ask questions to, and most of his knowledge came from his maniacal father's stories of glory and wealth and Tricking The Djinn. And Aladdin. You didn't forget Aladdin.
So when the genie *planted it's genie feet on the ground* instead of revealing itself in a puff of (secretly, he was hoping for royal blue) smoke.... It was on Ali that he didn't anticipate everything going sideways.
The candlelight flickered once, before going out. Jin shook his head and snapped his not-pudgy fingers. All the books Ali had read and the new *Aladdin* remake got the genie right, regardless of Will smith being much stockier.
Every light in the room flashed on at the same time.
"*That* wasn't against the rules?" Ali gritted his teeth and smiled wider all at the same time, "Messing with your master's property?"
The genie immediately went back to the damn book, as if to check. It probably weighed about one-fourth of Ali's body-weight, but the bastard was holding it up with ease.
"Sit down if you're going to be up all night reading, why don't you?" he mumbled under his breath.
And sit down the genie did. A couch that Ali didn't own, one far too elaborate for his dingy one room apartment materialized for the genie to drop into.
*Of all the uncooperative, condescending, cheeky...*
"I'm going to bed." the boy finally announced, the last of his patience evaporating. It didn't look like they were getting anywhere with this today. There was a class for seven am tomorrow, and his watch was already showing three. He needed sleep, and he needed it immediately.
The genie's brows furrowed, and he squinted Ali. "Aren't you going to," he jerked a thumb at the beaten-up lamp in a corner, and made a *whooosh* motion, "Put me back?"
That was *it*. "What are you?'' Ali yelled, "A kid? You can go back when you want to! I'm not going to tuck you in!"
"No, uh, I meant, precautio--"
"Do you think you can read in a lamp?! Why in the world do you want to be in one!?"
"I *can* read in a lamp though..." Jin trailed off.
Ali took a deep breath. He pinched his nose and then took a *series* of deep breaths. This wasn't him, no, it was just a very, very, stressful day. He needed to show dad he did this or the man would never get off his back. There was a horrible genie. There was class tomorrow. It was *fine*.
"Alright. I'd really appreciate you using only *one* light if hanging around, thanks." Ali informed him testily, before turning on his heel. There was no doors to slam in a one-room apartment, but he could always turn his back on people.
The genie's eyes suddenly twinkled, and Ali had a really bad feeling about this. "Your wish is my command, my Master."
Wait. "Oh! No, no, no-"
It was too late. Jin had already snapped his fingers.
He was such an idiot. Of course this would never work out. And he'd never summon another genie ever again and he'd continue being a failure and--
All the lights were still on.
Ali looked between a shaking genie and tube lights, jaw agape in his confusion. A few seconds of blinking back and forth, and the being on the couch let out a long breath.
"I can't believe you fell for that, Master!" the genie wheezed, a hand on his mouth to stop his giggles. *Giggles*. He did a complicated maneuver with his fingers, and the book shuffled to a new page, "It says right here you have to start the wish with *I wish*. It's against the rules otherwise."
The relief hit first. There *was* only one wish, and if nothing, he wanted to pay his *tutions*. Student loans were a bitch. Dad would have been so disappointed. He wouldn't even *believe* Ali about the genie.
The anger hit next.
"You!" Ali shouted, clapping his hands together, pleading, "Can you *please* get back to reading?! I *will* be asking questions!" After he read it tomorrow himself, of course.
There was *class*.
With a final glare at the genie, Ali climbed into bed. He read somewhere that you asserted dominance by maintaining eye-contact, but he wasn't about to stare a hole into this scoundrel before going to sleep.
He'd have nightmares or something.
Ali turned his back on the genie and arranged his blankets. A few comforting minutes, and his ears perked up.
"No singing! Read!" he ordered. "I need to sleep!"
"Whatever you say, Master," the genie sing-songed. | 2022-01-04T03:17:41 | 2022-01-04T02:54:27 | 3,822 | 96 |
[WP] The little girl is crouched in a makeshift pile of sandbags and brush, aiming her automatic rifle at the oncoming APC. Her death is immanent. No. You decide this will be different. You're a god of war and you've had enough.
\[WP\] The little girl is crouched in a makeshift pile of sandbags and brush, aiming her automatic rifle at the oncoming APC. Her death is immanent. No. You decide this will be different. You're a god of war and you've had enough. | *This is not how it is meant to be. War should be, was to be the greatest of challenges where men and even women, where all of mankind could truly test themselves, to feel what it is to live, to triumph, to become like heroes unto their fellows and even unto the gods. But this is not war, this is butchery; this is greed...this is...wrong. This poor shivering waif should not be at war. She should be home safe and warm. That's the place of the victors, to absorb and comfort those of whom they have defeated; to welcome them to a better life under a stronger, larger society that can provide more for them. This is wrong. I can feel the evil in the hearts of the coming men, they are the wrong men, they do not deserve to be the victors. I have tolerated these policies from the other gods, the lazy gods, long enough. For far far beyond enough.*
"*Little one?"*
"What! Who, who's there?"
"*I am sorry little one. This has all gone wrong, it is all wrong."*
"Who are you? I don't see you."
"*I'm sorry little one but I currently have no form in your world. You cannot see me."*
"Are you death? You've come early."
"*No though she is a familiar friend. She may be mad at me after today too; or she may laugh, it is hard to say."*
"Who are you? Not that I mind company, even in the end like this."
"*You are so grim. It is not right. This is not right. Wouldn't you rather be home or someplace warm and safe?"*
"My home is gone. My family is gone. Maybe though, I can slow them down. I can't stop them but maybe if I slow them others in the town down the road can escape."
"*Dear child, you know in your heart that will not work. You will slow them down no more than it takes for them to check your corpse. Maybe not even that."*
"But what can I do? What else can I do? I have to try."
"*Now there is what I love and crave, a noble heart. You with your tiny body and strong heart can do nothing while I a god of war could do so much but with no body nor soul nor heart am unable to do anything either."*
"You're a god of war? Is there nothing you can do? No way to guide my bullets, nothing?"
"*No, I cannot. Though with your heart, even with your tiny body, WE could do so much, together."*
Such sudden excitement. "We can make a difference, then do it. Please. Whatever it is. Can we save some of the people? Please." *There, that, the heart of a hero. That is what war should be.*
"*Together then, yes. Together we can save them all."*
\----
The reports coming in made no sense at all. At first it was thought to be a prank or someone drunk on duty. A tiny girl walked down the road towards our armored convoy? The lead vehicle stopped dead in it's tracks unable to proceed, the crew screamed that the vehicle was acting on it's own while others reported the turret had turned and fired on others in the convoy. Two vehicles destroyed by it before they returned fire destroying it. The waif of a little girl waling through the fire unscathed... They had opened fire on her but, the bullets went to the sides, or the guns jammed, or just blew up when the trigger was pulled. This was all wrong, something was wrong. That was three hours ago. Three hours since all communications with the forward company was lost. An hour ago fire base Myasnik reported a waifish little girl walking up to the gates then all communications were lost.
"Dear god what is she, some, some angel of War?"
"Sir?"
"Nothing. Any further communications come in?"
"No sir, nothing. I just thought you might be commenting on the front gate. They just called in that some little girl was spotted coming down the road towards our position."
"**WHAT?!"** | It's been long since we god's have interfered in the affairs of mortals. It's been so long in fact my name has faded into annuls of history. I was once the mighty God of war Ares. I have watched men and women slaughter each other for thousands of years and not so much as lifted a finger. However something about this tiny shivering soul urged me to action. A long standing rule put in place to bring peace to the many different gods kept us deatched from humanity. We were not to interfere in the lives of humanity. This law persisted and would continue to persist despite the world desperately needing the gods once again. I knew what my actions would bring and the changes to the world that would be wrought if I moved to save this courageous soul. But I'll be damned if I see another life brought to an end before they could enact vengeance. I may be a god of war, I am not a god of indiscriminate death
You see I have walked amongst the people on earth I have seen what they are capable and this little girl with the rifle she could barely lift has seen the worst of it. 6 weeks ago her village was attacked by radical forces and they killed all males in the village. All the females where rounded up and taken, their fate much worse then death. However this girl escaped capture because in a moment of brilliance her family hid her in the floorboards. She witnessed her dad die a bullet severing his red string of fate. Her mom fought desperately and died a violent death taking several with her when she managed to get a hold of a grenade.
This little girl made it through all this and has managed to hunt and survive on her will alone she trekked across blistering sand from village to village in hopes that she might catch the group and take a few of them with her.
12 days ago this young soul stained her hands with human blood for the first time. She has been on her own for the last 3 or so weeks and managed to survive in a local town by acting as a beggar while gathering Intel. She kept her head down to prevent unwanted attention. It was at this point I'm that I ran into her she looked despondent and Until a group of radicals rolled into town it seemed as if she would not get her revenge. However fate had other plans. While begging on the corner one of the insurgents tried to kidnapp her and managed to drag her away from the crowded market where he'd found her. However due to his own stupidity dragging her away from the market proved to be a bad decision. She managed to get free and get a hold of his weapon and in an instant she turned the predator into prey.
The commotion of a gun shot did not draw much attention in this unstable region where many forces squabbled over resources. Her first kill did not bring her satisfaction I could see it written on her face she was determined to die a violent warriors death and this one life was just the beginning. Over the next couple weeks she would ambush and slay several more. Earning her the name Ghost. She did not have the penchant for firearms instead she used the knowledge of hunting that her father spent years teaching her. She boobie trapped routes taken by insurgent and had been lucky enough to kill numerous insurgents. However with the arrival of the apc it was apparent that any and all luck she had was about to run out. Normal ambushes could be used to kill one or 2 of them but she had already missed her opportunity. This meant she could only rely on the weapons she had taken off the soldiers. She hefted the rifle and tried to aim but the rifle was more then she could reasonably control and I could tell that the minute she pulled that trigger her life would come to an end. I decided that I was going raise her as my champion the first champion of the Gods that this world has seen in nearly 2 centuries. This change would reverberate and at the time I thought I understood the gravity of my decision but the truth is it was lost on me and this simple action would set in motion events far reaching and bloody. I used my power to give her strength and courage as well as wisdom and skill to fight. Silence hung in the air as I held my breath hoping that my little nudge of power would be enough to see her through. She waited..... And as soon as they were close she unleashed death upon them. Each pull of the trigger a body dropped. There was return fire but it was already to late. My chosen champion dealt justice and fed the fires of vengeance seething in her soul. Not long after it started the cacophony came to an end and 10 men lay dead in the desert and the young one suffer not much more then a graze earning her, her first scar. she lived and now it was time to make a deal. I would help her get vengeance but it would not come free. I am a god and I require worship and sacrifice and in return I would lend her my power so she could acquire the thing she most wanted a warriors death and vengance. I stepped forth bathed in red and spoke. Stand up child, you are now under my protection, I am ares god of war and I will grant you the vengance you seek.
My voice rang out with the fury of the legion and shook the earth to the core unleashing upon it the advent of the return of the gods. | 2022-10-17T21:47:20 | 2022-10-17T21:30:05 | 43 | 24 |
[WP] As a villain henchman, the number 1 rule you're always taught is to never outshine the boss. However, during a small bank heist, you accidentally kill your boss' arch nemesis, and the legion of superheroes now see YOU as their ultimate threat. | Police sirens scream behind us as we race and weave through rush-hour traffic while Boss yells at me, "WHY WOULD YOU KILL ARCANE IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME." I was just as angry as he was; I didn't tell the dumbass to step right in front of my shotgun. Before today, Arcane would beat our asses and fly off. What was different ??? There isn't any time to think about it; the telltale sign of a supe flying mock speed shakes the car. Maybe this will cheer the Boss up, another supe he can obsess over. The car suddenly stops and begins to fly off the ground.
I turn, looking out the back window, and staring deep into my soul is Trio. The strongest hero in the world. We all roll out of the car, falling 15 feet, smacking hard into the pavement. Trio throws the vehicle to the ground and floats above us, his eyes glowing a familiar crimson. Boss stands up and wipes himself off, "How dare you destroy my car, you bloody bastard; I hope you have insurance because I want everything you got." Trio doesn't blink or say anything; he slowly descends to the ground and slaps Boss into a building while looking at me. I immediately regret joining this heist; I drop my bag of money and sprint off, looking back to see Trio still staring at me. The others begin shooting at Trio as if they haven't seen this same thing done before. Trio starts burning everyone to a crisp with his lasers as I turn, running into an alley. I hear the screams from behind me, but I won't stop running; I run for what feels like hours before I finally quit. As my coach always taught, I put my hands over my head to catch my breath. My chest hurts, and my mind is racing; now what? All I can do is assume Boss is dead; he isn't superhuman. This has to be a dream; killing sups is something out of a dream; they are invincible. That's the only explanation, so I close my eyes and try to wake up. Please wake up; I want to see my daughter; I want to see my family; when I wake up, I'll quit and find a real job. ring ring ring. ring ring ring. I open my eyes, still in the ally and covered in sweat. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. ring ring ring. Unknown caller, what else could go wrong? I answer the phone, and a deep voice answers on the other end. "Mr. Vasques, how does it feel to be the most infamous man in America."
TO BE CONTINUED
(maybe | I didn't really care all that much for Borg. The failed cyborg. He was bad at everything he did, but he was one of the few in the aristocrat who didn't try to hurt me. Not to say I was treated all that differently from the other sidekicks. Maybe he knew what it was like to be different or maybe he was just broken mentally, I never knew him before. He doesn't talk much.
From what I've read it seemed that he was average at best before the accident. He had as many victories as he did failures. He would be called for reinforcement sometimes, only the very or poorly skilled would never get called upon.
Now, he'd get stopped a lot, to be fair, most of the time things simply failed due to bad luck. This one time he built a mecha-suite and took most of the downtown as hostage. He even put up a good fight with the heroes that day, they had to call in reinforcements, but proved to be superfluous, as the suit caught fire, and he had to jump out. Another time we were about to make it back to headquarters with the loot, before a streetlamp crashed right into the hood.
Today we'd so something simple like rob a bank, a new local branch of the RolliePollie Bank. A branch known for having a different theme each weak. Ii think it was cowboy themed this week, as everyone was dressed up in boots and a large hat. When we got in he said, "you know the drill." Everyone sat on the floor while I and the other's blocked the door and held our guns up while he and a few managers went to the back.
He threw us some bags to take back into our unmarked cars. As he started throwing us the gold bars, Something flew into the window. He was a young looking guy, probably twenty, with blonde curly hair and some acne. He was dressed in red, white and blue.
"Buddy, you picked the wrong day," he said.
Our laser shots seemed to stun or really hurt him, but he sprinted to the closest hunchman, and punched him in the face, before using him as a shield and charging at us with him. As he was getting close to another, Borg caught him by suprise with a ear defening shot to the rib.
"Ahhh," The hero cried out as his face contorted. Yet he was still quick enough to dodge the following shots by running side to side as he advanced on Borg. He headbutted him, grabbed both his arms, and broke them in his grip. He then Kicked Borg onto the ground.
Borg fell onto a wall and the hero followed him and laid blow after blow on him. Then the hero flew threw another pane of glass just over my head. I wasn't sure what to do now. I started to approach him, but before I got too close, I heard the sound of glass breaking again, and the wind sent me back. He was back holding a giant statue over his head, and approached Borg who was about to be crushed to death under a statue. And before I knew it, I lit a huge flame towards the hero. He ran and hit the floor trying to put it out.
But I think I was the only one staring, everyone was giving me that weird feeling by just looking at me. And the entire room was silent.
Most people cheered for the heroes, but a lesser number cheered for the villains, although the internet might make you think a lot of them did. But no one would ever cheer for one of the lower cast defeating an aristocrat. No one likes different.
I turn and ran, only taking a few steps out the door before bolting into the sky. I didn't know where I'd go know. But I knew I just had to get away. | 2022-12-10T11:39:46 | 2022-12-10T10:27:44 | 48 | 21 |
[WP] You win a bet with the Devil by asking him a question that no one has ever thought of before. | "Wow, you’re not..."
"...how you imagined me. I know. Can we cut this short? There were 6392 deaths in the hour before you died and I’ll have to visit all of them."
"Ehm. Yeah, sure. It’s just a little sudden."
"I know. You die and you find out there actually is a life after death and a devil and you would have lived a *totally* different life if you would have known. Just shut up. I’ve heard it all. Once they see me they get all defensive. 'I had good intentions with that girl that wasn’t my wife' and 'I wasn’t going to eat his face' are surprisingly frequent. Shit. I don’t even care."
"... You don’t? I mean..."
"I’m the devil. If I don’t who does, right? Nobody. Nobody cares. Not even a little."
"So... Do I get to go to heaven then?"
"Well, no. Unless you really liked it where you came from."
"I’m going back?"
"Rebirth. Or simply 'birth' if you prefer."
"Really? What? Now? What’s it all for then? Why am I even here first of all? Talking to you? What are you even for then?"
"Ya ya , I was about to get to that. I’m the intercycle information agent."
"A what now?"
"I’m an inter..."
"Yes, I got that. I thought you were the devil."
"Well, I’m trying to go with the time. When you die you visit me and get to ask me a question and I answer it for you. That way new information gets introduced into a closed system."
"What?"
*The I.C.I.A. exhales.*
"I’m Lucifer. The bringer of light. You ask and I answer."
"I see. I think I understand. And I can only ask one qu..."
*She stops.*
"Aww, you’re quick. But don’t worry. I’m not going to take it away on some technicality. In fact, go ahead. Ask me anything about the system and how it works and I won’t count it towards your question."
"Alright. Only one other question?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to answer me truthfully?"
"How would you know?
"That’s not an answer. And I can tell."
"Then why ask me?"
"That’s still not an answer."
"Very well. Yes, truthfully."
"When I go back..."
"If it’s something that has never been asked before, then you’re not going to remember the question, but I guarantee that you’re going to find the answer that I gave you. But it has to be something truly novel. Something that no one has thought of before."
"And if it’s not new?"
"Then you will only remember the question, somewhere deep down. But you won’t get any help finding the answer."
"I see. I could simply ask something nonsensical. But what would I use that answer for?"
"I don’t know. But I guess that was rhetorical."
"Are there many that get a new one?"
"Recently? Not really. People ask themselves pretty similar things and I haven’t had anything new in a long time."
"So I probably didn’t have anything new last time?"
"You had 'Who killed Yin Su?' last time, but her brother had already asked that and you weren’t really born anywhere near there this time anyways."
"Well, how much time do I... Oh. I think I have it."
"Alright. Go ahead."
"An idiot says 'What'?"
"What? Oh god damn it."
| "So what exactly are you?" Darren's eyes flinched as the heat from a pit outside the gift shop roared through the air.
The Devil looked perplexed. It was rare for new tenants to ask questions at the end of the tour. Most usually went into the gift shop and bought "I'm with blasphemer" shirts or fake plastic ice cubes to show off some kind of wealth. But no one ever seemed to ask a question- and if they did, they were all to do with the length of eternity. The Devil straightened his bow tie, curled his lip into a smile and said, "I am the Devil. Now if we will move along through the gift shop, i'll finish the tou-"
"Hold on a second." The Devil's grin lowered and so did the eyes of all the other tenants except Darren. Darren curled his own lips into a beastly smile. "Well, back in the hall of famous doomed souls, I noticed the Faust bet. And I believe I am correct in stating that," Darren's shifted his voice into a matter-of-fact tone, "a tenant whose soul is less than 100 years can win his soul back if he can ask the devil a question he cannot answer." The devils eyes narrowed, his skin grew a few shades redder than normal and his fangs slowly sliced into the bottom of his jaw.
"I don't think that rule exists anymore..." the Devil hissed through clenched jaws.
"Well that can't be true. All laws created in Heaven and Hell must be permanent, as neither Heaven and Hell have a set calendar or time based system, in fact time is a concept created by humans and not part of some divine will"
"Technically that's true, but that isn't what the Faust bet is!"
Darren eyed the crowd of tenants. Gave a wry smile and a quick wink to one of the men. "How many in this crowd are lawyers?" 50 of the group of 63 raised there hands. "Good. Now if one of you could be so kind as to run down and check the plaque on the wall next to Faust and come back and quote it word for word."
A few moments later the lawyer came trotting down the halls, balancing against the white marble wall on his left as if he had competed in a marathon. Darren spoke up before the devil could say anything.
"So? What did it say?"
"Well basically it said that Faust was a German doctor who traded his soul for power and glory, but became fed up with it, and decided to challenge the devil for his soul back. Here's the legal part, '...in 1480, after a bet with Dr. Johann Georg Faust, it was placed into Inferno law that a soul who has been a tenant for less than 100 years may bet the devil for the return of said tenant's soul. Inferno statute 630.'"
The Devil sliced his tongue through his lips and smacked a painting of himself off the museum wall.
"Fine then. Ask your question. But when you lose against the Beast, know that your torture will be to be my slave and live forever next to me, in blinding madness. And you won't get Sundays off."
"Deal." They shook hands, and as they did, a tiny demon popped up above the devils shoulder and recited the rules of the bet again.
"Now ask me the question."
Darren looked at his feet, and around the room, and across to all the startled lawyers and a few congressmen. Finally he asked, "What are you?"
The Devil throw back his head and laughed. "I am the Devil. The Prince of Darkness. The fallen angel Lucifer. The great and evil beast."
"But why aren't you the King of Darkness? And if you are the King of Darkness, why set up a place for people who do evil things to go? Justice is a fair and honourable system, and there is nothing evil about stopping people who break the law, from re-entering society until they have been punished. But if you are evil, then you would let all those bad people into heaven. If you exist as a form of punishment, you must instead, going by greek logic be God. But instead God hates you, so how can this be? And how come you punish those you persuade? Would the people you persuade not in fact be happy they came to hell? But you treat it like punishment. So I ask again, what are you?"
"Ummm...ahhh...the de-...the be-...fallen from -" He grew silent, and shadows slow emerged to swallow him until his face, legs, arms and body transformed into an exit sign. | 2014-06-20T10:06:03 | 2014-06-20T08:07:31 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] [NSFW] Describe the moments before a school shooting but constantly alternate perspectives between the victims and the assailant. We have no idea who the shooter is until the end. Begin in media res. | x Why hasn't she ever noticed me?
o Why won't she stop staring?
x I wonder if anybody else feels as crazy as I do.
o Am I prepared?
x Beating harder than I thought...
o Might be easier than expected...
x One
o Step
x At
o A
x Time...
o Here goes nothing...
x I can't do this.
o Time to finally quit being a pussy.
x But I've wanted this for so long...
o My whole life, leading up to this moment...
x Building it up in my mind...
o No turning back now.
x Here I go.
o There he goes.
x "Hello, Michelle."
o Goodbye, Jacob.
*BANG*
| "All students do not be alarmed. We will take down the assailant as soon as possible." A woman on the intercom said.
I'm not ready, I'm not ready for what's coming. I just want to do something with this life. I've spent 16 years for a life that hasn't amounted to anything; no college, no girlfriend, no money. I physically can't do this anymore.
Stay calm man. You'll get through this. After this you'll be famous and on the news. You can do this. Life sucks remember? All you need to get out of here is fame. I get bullies by day, drunks by night every freaking day. I'm ready for this.
I thought I'd be one of those people who end up an amazing athlete with a hot boy toy by my side. But no this is what my life has come to. Staring death in its face. What did I do to deserve this? I'm attractive, smart, nice, and giving. I don't need this on my plate. I'm done, I've succumbed to this. Please God let it happen.
God, if you can hear me, please forgive me. I have sinned, oh father. I know I've never believed you, but I find this the appropriate time to get myself a better entrance into "heaven". Please let me gain your promise that I will get into heaven. Please father, amen.
Time for the lights. Three... Two... And... Shoot.
"At the trial the assailant's final words before being put away were "At least I'm famous." Disgusting words from a disgusting person. More on this later. After the break we talk about a dog's day out on the town and how it can be quite stressful." The reporter said.
| 2014-06-26T14:06:51 | 2014-06-26T13:59:24 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] In the future, a delivery company provides a service that sends a packaged item to your past self at a crucial moment. One day, you get the item, but the only instruction from your future self is "You'll know what to do with it." | A book. A fucking book.
My benefactor has always helped me.
I think there was that one time back in Richmond where I got the note to get the *hell* outta downtown. I missed the Richmond Bombing.
Another time, I got a laptop battery charger. I didn't realize it, but the extra hours of charge that it gave on the ride home were the hours I needed to finish up my paper to hand it in for finals. I planned on finishing it the next day, but got really sick.
And yet, after six months of silence, I finally get something from that guy from the future.
It's a book. A fucking book. Not even anything helpful, it's a goddamn physics textbook. I'm majoring in history, dammit!
"you know what to do."
I, I can't even begin to express my anger. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO, OR I WOULDN'T BE RELYING YOU IN ALL OF MY LIFE. I wouldn't be here, walking home from a bar. I needed the benefactor to get my life in order, not to fuckin' send me a textbook.
Well, I mean I DO know "what to do." Read it. But why?
Sigh.
------
It's a fresh morning and honestly in retrospect I'm curious. I gently open the worn and ratty 2015Edition Applied Physics Textbook.
And it suddenly all begins to click into place.
The idea, that is. It's something crazy. Something impossible, but it's the only way all of this could make sense.
I begin building.
| "People! People! Listen up!" I said. A dozen of my most dedicated soldiers, all of them battle-scarred, a few of them shellshocked, turned in my direction. I looked at each of them in turn, tears glistening in my eyes.
"The groom's bowtie is *too small* for his neck," I said. A collective gasp ran through the corps of flower arrangers, cake decorators, photographers, and interior designers.
"Do not panic!" I shouted to them. "That's my job. My job is to panic, and-" There was a tap at my shoulder. I brushed it off. "And it is my job to fix this. *But I can't do it without you!*"
A girl assisting with the catering began sobbing. The liaison to the dress designer slapped her, and the cries became suppressed sniffles.
"So what I need...quit tapping me, I'm busy...is for something I can use to fix this problem. A shoestring. A pipe cleaner. A length of licorice. *Something* people, someone needs to give me *something* and quickly because I am fuh-*reaking* out. *What do you want?!?*"
"Package delivery, dude," said the manboy standing next to me, wearing a green and purple company shirt and a terrible pair of shorts.
"Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me with this right now?"
"Just need you to sign," he said, holding out his tablet.
"Fine. FINE fine *fine*. I'm just in the middle of the *biggest* crisis to hit Hollywood weddings since Taylor Lautner married both of the Olsen twins, but that's fine. I'll *sign* for this stupid-"
"Here you go. The future sends its regards."
"The future sends its...what the hell does that mean," I snarled, ripping the box to shreds as the delivery-manboy rolled away on a pair of glowing, silver rollerblades. There was a note inside the package. I crumpled it up and threw it to the side. But then...sweet merciful baby Jesus, there was another bowtie in there. Same style. Same *color*, which is practically impossible when matching blacks.
I held it up to the light. It was the right size. I knew it in my heart.
"People!" I yelled, "we are back in business!" I marched off to the groom's suite to the sounds of cheers, the tie clenched in a victorious fist that I held high above my head... | 2014-07-29T09:33:37 | 2014-07-29T09:31:13 | 95 | 38 |
[WP] Your car crashed, and you are dying. In a moment of clarity, you grab your iPhone, hold the home button, and speak your final words - the ones you've always heard in movies - to Siri: "Tell my wife I love her." As your life ends, your wife receives a disturbing, confusing text: "I love her". | I stare numbly as the police cruiser slowly drove away. The enormous grief briefly overcome by the crushing weight of the news I knew I had to bear.
Walking down the hall, trying to stay upright, I notice my phone sitting on the stand, little green light blinking in the corner. Instinctually my hand goes to it, swipe in my unlock sequence, stare at the words on the screen.
"I love her."
For a moment the anxiety and grief is driven from me, for a brief second my curiosity as to what it means has taken my mind off of the reality of what I had just been told.
Then like a bucket of cold water it hits me and I instantly realize the meaning of his last words. My eyes well up, I struggle to hold myself together until I finish the task I know I must do.
I turn the corner, walk through the doorway into her bedroom. I see her in a ball at the foot of her bed, tears streaming down her face; she had overheard the officer at the door.
"Swe-"
My voice cracks. I stop, clear my throat, and start again.
"Sweetheart. Daddy has...had something he wanted me to tell you." | "I love her “she read.
...Her...Her who she thought? The phone's screen glared back at her with those bold black words. She sat on the living room sofa staring over a half eaten bowl of cereal. Soggy and lacking its crunch, she did not notice. The day had unfolded as it normally had. He was running late as always. She helped pick up the scattered pieces of his presentation and he was out the door with a kiss and a hug and that smile that always added something to her day.
"We were...we are in love...aren't we?” She thought.
He had had his moments of flirting in the past but nothing serious... He hadn't been working late so then who?
“Why am I even thinking like this?"
Shaken, but present she attempts the call... No response. She tries again. This time a women picks up the phone. Before she can’t get any words out, she hangs up.
“How did this happen? "How did love bring me to a place like this?”
The suitcase sat in that closet for months unnoticed and today it would get its use. Her articles thrown about the room and in due time a loaded suitcase in hand. As she sat writing her note all the different scenarios panned out in her mind.
"Why am I thinking like this? Maybe I should just wait for him to come."
She had never been one to rationally think...Suddenly the doorbell rang.
Hesitantly she opened it. Before her stood a female officer.
"Hi, I believe you tried to call this phone?"
Shocked to see the Pastel blue phone case, her heart was now starting to sink for she knew what she had done and the regret that would come from it.
“I have to inform you of some bad news”
Not much else made it thru to her mind...a few words were caught here and there but she was destroyed. She would never get an answer. The officer asked her questions closed her report and walked she walked her to the door.
"He loved you, ya know?” the officer said.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Siri had a message on the screen when we got to him. It said Tell her I said I love her"
Really poor structure, first time post this scenario interested me. Enjoy | 2014-11-07T09:54:38 | 2014-11-07T08:57:48 | 1,060 | 58 |
[WP] A man who has lived a thousand years takes up a job teaching high school world history. | As the bell rang for lunch to end, the kids came shuffling into classroom. They were in scattered groups, most of which came in relatively late, yet pretty understandable for the first day of class. The kids looked up to see two adults standing at the front of the room. The first man was quite aged with long white hair, deep wrinkles, a large comforting smile, and a cane, which was neatly placed right beside the large, metal desk he was sitting behind. To his left, a younger man, probably in his mid-thirties spoke in a hushed voice to the older man before addressing the class itself.
"Hello class, welcome to Mr.O'Cain's American history class. We'll be covering a plethora of material--"
"Wait, which one of you is Mr. O'Cain?" a kid asked, mid-introduction.
The younger man chuckled. "Well, technically, we're both 'Mr.O'Kain', but seeing as how my *father* here is a bit aged, his voice doesn't carry the same booming tone it used to. So, I'm here to help alliterate some of the subject material a bit better. But believe me when I say he knows his history better than most people. Does that answer your question?"
"Yes."
"Good, and raise your hand next time."
The young kid raised his hand to ask another question almost immediately.
"Yes?"
"But what do we call you?" asked the kid.
"Just call me Alex. Now just hold your questions until after I've gone through the syllabus."
As the young teacher went though the syllabus, mentioning what was to be expected of each chapter and the kids noticed their young teacher went on tangents, actively mentioning small tid-bits of information with every brief overview of their history book. Alex was very well spoken, as well as a quick talker, and the older man, almost silent, but in active agreement with everything the teacher said, except for when he leaned into him to either adjust what was said or cut the teacher short when he rambled too long. The old man was barely audible, but the young man seemed to understand him clearly whenever he spoke.
As soon as Alex was finished going through the syllabus, a few hands came up for a general Q and A.
"How old are you Mr.O'Cain?" asked one of the kids.
The old man leaned forward and very softly said, "I'm 22 at heart."
The entire class chuckled as well as the two teachers themselves.
After the class was dismissed early, the two teachers talked a bit after class.
"I'm still not too sure about this, it almost just feels like I'm talking the whole time. Are you alright with that?" said Alex. The older O'Cain mumbled softly back in response.
Alex chuckled and replied, "'Love me' might be a bit of an over-statement, but they definitely do seem to be listening when I talk, which is nice."
"..."
"I understand you need my help, but I just don't know if teaching kids is for me." replied Alex to his mumbling.
"..."
"Well, you're more *traditionally* trained in this than I am, Mr. I-Have-Tenure."
"..."
Alex chuckled, "Alright, well I did say I was gonna always be there for you, so this technically counts, but I can't promise I'll do well. Also, I might accidentally swear in front of them from time to time."
The old man smiled, picks up his cane and both head for the door as he barely whispers something to Alex as they walk out. Alex smiles, and replies to the old man,
"I love you too, son." | “That’s not what the book says!” Johnny, the class smart aleck, interjected.
The rest of the class giggled. They all thought Mr. Yockie was full of shit.
Mr. Yockie cringed as he thought to himself, “I know it’s not what the book says you little shit burglar. That’s cause the fucking book is wrong...”
But he didn’t let his frustration get the better of him. Mr. Yockie took a few deep breaths, and mentally reminded himself, “they can’t help the fact that their textbooks are full of errors. Neither can the people who write the text books. They have no idea what actually happened. They probably just went off an earlier version of the textbook, which was also wrong.”
Mr. Yockie turned away from the whiteboard and faced Johnny. He smiled, “you’re right Johnny. You’re right.” He paused, “the Battle of Hastings did in fact occur in 1066. Not in 1054 like I just said.”
Mr. Yockie chuckled at himself, “You know, as a history teacher its sometimes difficult to keep track of all these dates...” It took nearly all of his patience to not admit that he had been there. The Battle of Hastings that is. Many men had fallen to his sword that day.
Mr. Yockie looked like an average man in his late fifties to early sixties. He wore brown dress shoes, khaki dress pants, a brown belt, a neatly tucked in long sleeve, slightly blueish, dress shirt, and a tasteful, yet somewhat dated, green sweater vest. His hair was gray and somewhat thin, but he still had a nice hairline.
All the students in his 10th grade high school history class thought Mr. Yockie was just another “old guy” with his head up his ass. He seemed to mix up the dates of historical events, and got angry every now and then when one of the kids pointed out his errors.
What the students didn’t realize was that Mr. Yockie had been known by many names throughout his life. He moved every three to five years and didn’t seem to have any long term friends or significant others. Fostering these sorts of relationships wasn’t an option for Mr. Yockie, because he was, secretly, nearly one thousand years old.
If anyone discovered that he was one thousand years old Mr. Yockie knew that his life, as he preferred to live it, would be over. So instead he decided to move relatively often, buy new identities, and set up new lives for himself. In fact, Mr. Yockie had lived on every continent except for Antarctica. He spoke, at any given time, about seven languages fluently, but he lost count of how many he had actually learned over the course of his life. It must have been over a hundred.
To be honest, he really didn’t mind not having friends. With so much time, life experience, and perspective he found relating to most people to be nearly impossible. Instead, he enjoyed observing them, studying their habits and examining their mannerisms; much like a child would examine ants in an ant farm.
Mr. Yockie had fought in over twenty different wars in his life. Thousands of men had died under his pike, sword, musket, rifle, or grenade. He had experienced, first hand, the overthrow of nearly a dozen governments, thirty six “the world is ending” mass hysterias, and lived through five different disease pandemics.
On top of that Mr. Yockie had mastered seventeen musical instruments, read over ten thousand books, earned the equivalent of millions of modern day dollars four separate times, was a medical doctor, a practiced attorney, a licensed airline pilot, and had earned four Ph. D’s.
He liked to alternate, back-and-forth, every few years from prestigious and “challenging” professions into humble ones. This high school history teacher gig was his most recent “humble” profession. Before that he had been a cobbler, car salesman, blacksmith, tavern keeper, shift supervisor at a tire factory, railroad worker, food tester, skydiving instructor, farmer, baker, and almost every other blue collar profession you could imagine from every time period between now and 1100 AD.
The students giggled to themselves as Mr. Yockie made another historical “mistake” in his explanation of the Battle of Hastings. He just smiled at them and rolled his eyes as he gently popped the right-side of his head with his palm in jest.
“Some things never change…” he reminded himself, “teenagers have ALWAYS been assholes.” | 2015-04-14T17:54:49 | 2015-04-14T16:35:59 | 58 | 23 |
[WP] A man who has lived a thousand years takes up a job teaching high school world history. | I know this will probably be deleted, but I have to say it anyway. If anybody is really interested in a fantastic movie similar to this concept, check out [The Man From Earth.](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0756683/) It really blew my mind the first time I saw it. | **PART ONE**
***
*High School students sit at wooden desks under fluorescent lighting on a fall day. They patiently await their new teacher, who unbeknownst to them, has been alive for just over half a millennia. A middle-aged man enters the room with a gruesomely noticeable scar that circles three quarters the circumference of his neck. It is Macbeth, former High King of Alba.*
***
"Hello class, my name is Professor Macbeth. I will be your World History instructor today."
A shaken class watches in horror as the visually frightening man wrote his name on the chalkboard. A girl from the back cautiously raises her hand.
"Professor, aren't you the one from that Shakespearean play?" said the girl.
"Yes, I'm afraid so. However, you may find that it was quite dramatized. Hollywood eh? Or should I say Bankside? Oh well. Yes, that is I." said Macbeth
"Didn't you die?"
"Do I look dead?"
"...no"
"Do you know that movie Highlander?"
"I think so..."
"It's exactly like that. My head was not completely severed fortunately, but I have been exiled since. So here I am instructing YOU ungrateful bastards for a $30,000 salary. Let's get on with it shall we?"
***
*to be continued?* | 2015-04-14T18:17:41 | 2015-04-14T14:32:31 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] Create the biggest, most unpredictable plot twist you could make in a story. | I look out of my window at the hive of activity opposite. The building company have been working tirelessly for a month now, and I've been taking a single photo every day. I'm going to turn it into a video and stick it on youtube when they're done.
First the powerful diggers tearing up the dirt, then the concrete being mixed and poured with more precision than a celebrity pastry chef. Now a spider's web of steel scaffolding is being erected, a chrysalis from which the building can emerge.
Today is different though, work has stopped and everyone is gathered around in some form of confrontation. There is the site engineer arguing with the architect, looking out of place in his fancy suit. I get dressed and pop downstairs to see what's going on. As I cross the road I start to hear their conversation.
"East West when it should be North South!" Shouts the architect, his face rather red.
"North South? The plans clearly state East West!" Rebuts the engineer, waving some A1 paper at the architect.
"Give those to me!" Shouts the architect, grabbing the paper and opening it on a nearby bench.
I slowly approach and peer over his shoulder to see what's going on. I look down at the corner of the plans, and see what the problem is. The plot's been twisted! | The giant punches John again. Blood-soaked teeth fly out of his mouth.
"Now I'm gonna ask you real nice like, just one more time. If you're not nice back to me, you're gonna lose more than just those pearly whites of yours."
The giant's mask has two holes, each exposing a dimly lit red circle. He wraps his massive hands around John's pulpy head.
"Where is she?"
John stares into the two red orbs in front of him. He gives a wry smile. "Who are we talking about again?"
"Oh, you're a funny one ain't ya." The masked man drives his fist upward into John's jaw. His teeth puncture into each other, exposing the inner nerves of the tooth. He shrieks in pain.
"You know, I always like the funny ones. They always take a bit more work, which I of course don't mind, and they offer some light entertainment along the way."
Another punch. John's rib cracks like a stick.
"It's like dinner and a fucking movie!" the giant laughs.
John spits out some blood and a few teeth. Tears well up in his eyes.
"Listen you big, lumbering, fuck. I'm never going to tell you where she is. You can torture me, tear me from limb to limb, chop off my good bits, but I will never tell you where she is. We swore a duty to our country. If our positions were switched, she would tell you the exact same fucking thing."
John stares into the gaze of the beast.
"Go ahead. Do your god damned worst."
The giant throws punch after punch. Each breaking more body parts than the last.
"That's enough." A voice says over the loudspeaker. "You've done all you can." The giant leaves the room without saying a word.
"What can we do now? He's not going to give her up."
Two sharply-suited men stand behind a one way mirror, giving them a front row seat to the party.
"Kimble, Call POTUS. Tell him to evacuate every major city."
"There has to be something else we can do!"
"We've already broken every rule in the Geneva Convention. This guy isn't going to crack."
Kimble takes a heavy sigh.
"She is going to set off that nuke, Kim. All we can do now is pray." | 2015-04-21T08:28:27 | 2015-04-21T08:26:23 | 763 | 25 |
[WP]Killing Hitler has become a sport amongst time travelers. Points are awarded for creativity and difficulty. You are last year's champion, how did you win? | The Hitler Games have been a huge hit when it became public in the 24th century. Sure, in the past people did it just for fun. Then came the betting of "Hey, betcha I can kill Hitler better than you." People put hundreds, then thousands of dollars to try and one-up each other on this simple task. The end result was the same all around: Hitler dead, Allies win World War 2.
Some people didn't have the right imagination for this, so they started to have stand-ins for themselves. People who have entire lives dedicated to killing one man over and over. Started calling themselves the Anti-Gestapo out of sheer irony. It was only a matter of time until the Global Television Network played a couple of the more popular videos on their news networks and from there it became cemented in our culture.
Eventually people started to get in each other's way when setting up traps, or bringing down objects at the same time as each other. That's when the first Time Travel War actually happened, during World War 2 of all places. And over Hitler. It's amazing how stupid and greedy people can get. Laws were passed and then the first Hitler Games came to be.
People had to try out for their nation to enter. Then whoever won the Hitler Games won a substantial amount of money, fame for their country, and the most important part, however they killed him became the true history.
You see, time loves to stay in a straight line. Always heading in one direction. You can pick your starting point on the line, but your always going forwards. If there is a contradiction between what everyone knows as the past and you changing that, time just ignores that little inconsistency and it becomes a small footnote in time. The Grandfather Paradox was proven wrong by the first time traveler, no doubt. An eccentric man by the name of Viktor Odell wrote theories proving this paradox wrong but was always ignored by his fellow colleagues. So he invented it, went back and killed his grandfather. Came back with a signed photo from his grandmother with him standing next to the body. He was quickly put away, but was released due to the statute of limitations has passed. Viktor patented the time machine and soon everyone was killing and raping in the past. Then came the *second* Time Travel War. Yes, it happens in that order.
So for the past couple of years Germany has won the Hitler Games. Cheating bastards always had the upper hand. But last year, someone from a different nation won: me from Canada. How'd I win? Well, everyone loves the big explosion, the last gasp. I went a different route.
At first I made Hitler strong, made him win a few battles. Give him confidence in his nation's strength and in himself. Think he literally can take on the whole world. Then, I took everything away. Big losses in the war, one after another. But I still kept him alive. If there were other nation's assassins out to get him, I stopped those guys and made him feel the despair of being on top and falling straight to the bottom. Soon, Hitler was left with only one option: Killing himself.
It's very easy to kill one man. It's very hard to convince one man to kill himself. | I didn't intend to kill Hitler. I'm not the average time-traveler, you see, I just wanted to have a quiet life in the country side of the Old Europe. I found my lifestyle. I found a beautiful girl named Annabelle and worked my way up in French society at the time. I married Annabelle. I found and bought a quaint little house in a village. The village was built along a road, and at the end of the road lay a villa with pad-locked gates and streaming white walls. I had two children. The first was a boy named Dante, and the second was a girl named after my mother: Beatrice. Unfortunately, I hadn't read my history and forgot about World War II.
Germany invaded France and so came upon my little village which lay in Burgundy. First, came the overwhelming buzzing as the Luftwaffe began to toss their bombs. I didn't understand why they were attacking us at the time; I later found out that the villa was the site of large oil tanks and reserves, and just a few kilometers off was a hidden military base. The bombs swept over the village like a fiery storm, spitting fire, twisting and burning everything and everyone. My Time Machine was destroyed in my house during that first wave. My daughter burned to death; she was in her crib and was crying out as her flesh melted off her bones. I found her later, charred black with a gaping mouth but no tongue. Her teeth were still white as snow. The few bombs had created towering infernos that dashed and killed as an avenging angel of death. The Germans wasted an immense amount of resources on our useless village. When I returned to my time, I learned of their assaults on Paris and London, but I would never hear of their experiments of these techniques on small towns like mine.
My wife was changed after the storm. She would chatter in gibberish for a short while and then scream, pointing towards the darkness as if she saw a devil materialise in front of her. She would rock back and forth on the ground. I had to move her everywhere in a wheelbarrow I found. We met up with the other survivors. Night fell, I fell asleep, I woke up and my wife was gone. Not even a note was left. She had dashed off into the forest like a wild animal.
My son was twelve years old, and was all that remained of my past life. He supported me, his father, and saved me from despair. I cried on him every night, and he would muffle my tears so that the others in our make-shift refugee camp didn't hear me and disapprove of my weakness. Soon, French trucks came and brought us to Paris. My son and I took up residence at my wife's parent's house, they were grieved over their daughter, but gladly brought us into their home and reassured us of victory against Germany.
The next day, all of France bowed to Germany in defeat.
The soldiers marched in with crisp uniforms and rigid steps. They goose-stepped their way to their glory and France's shame. In trucks stood their leaders, and from my weak knowledge of 20th Century History, I recognised Adolf Hitler.
The machinations of my terror and the evils that had befallen in me lay in this man. My doom had been set at the moment I lay my eyes on the man. My blood heated up, and my heart beat twice as fast when I saw him. My brain pounded in my head and I felt sick in my stomach. I looked at him through my in-laws' windows, and only one thought dashed through my mind over and over.
*Revenge.*
My time machine had been destroyed. All I had left were the tools I brought from the future. A knife and an invisibility cloak. But the cloak would break if I attempted any action outside of it; it could only be used for reconnaissance.
So I set out for my revenge. I went to my in-laws and spoke with them for a few minutes, I told them to take care of my son, and that I intended to return, but that I would be gone for a while. They nodded but they seemed afraid. My tone of voice and pale pallor scared them. I left without saying anything to my son, I didn't want him to stop me with his words. I walked off to stalk Hitler.
| 2016-02-20T10:56:09 | 2016-02-20T08:59:12 | 596 | 204 |
[WP] An alien nation descends upon earth. Their assault is... incredibly underwhelming.
Take "incredibly underwhelming" however you want.
Examples: They do nothing but inconvience you. They're so weak they get bullied by grade schoolers. Their laser technology doesn't even burn a hole in your woolen sweater as even sheep have surpassed them.
Whatever you like. | "Sir, their technology... It's, well, quite frankly, it's terrifying."
"Explain yourself."
"All of their technology," he stammered. "It's powered by explosions."
"Explosions? All of it?"
"Yes sir. Their vehicles, their warships, even their weapons are all powered by explosions."
"How did they ever achieve space travel?"
"Our intel indicates that they strapped themselves to a metal tube and exploded it into orbit."
"By Squigthar! They must be insane."
"Yes, sir. Our deflector shields stand no chance against their explosions. We had anticipated they would use a more civilized form of combat, like lasers. We've already lost half our fleet."
"*Half!?* What about their losses?"
"They... uh... practically none." He lowered his gaze to the floor, staring at his tentacles. "Sir."
"How is this possible? How are we so completely outmatched?"
"Their buildings are made of melted sand. This "glass" they call it is highly reflective, and nullifies our ultraviolet beams."
"Well, what about the ones without shielding?"
"Their skin turns slightly red. They find it mildly irritating."
"They don't burst into flame?"
"No sir."
The purple, tentacled creature rubbed its face-mound thoughtfully. "Very well," it murmured. "Sound the retreat." | *This is my first post please give me feedback!*
The loud hiss of compressed air flooded out from the spacecraft as a ramp extended and the metallic doors slid open; two aliens appeared followed by a gasp from the crowd.
It had been two weeks since the space ship was in range of NASA’s detection and the entire Earth was buzzing. Buzzing with speculation, excitement, and a slight fear. The media was having a field day with the discovery, weeks of live news dedicated to nothing other than our alien ‘visitors’. Segment after segment of guest scientists gave their best guesses as to what the aliens might look like and what they will want. It was a common thought that they would fit our depiction of a small green alien with big eyes and a bigger head, yet scientists were vigilant in dampening people’s expectations. “Do not be disappointed when the creatures do not even vaguely resemble a humanoid.” Despite this, everyone secretly hoped for a little green figure with an antenna and three fingers.
By tracking the course of the spaceship, NASA determined the landing site. A large crowd had gathered the day of the landing. The United Nations had created an order of the first people to meet the aliens ranked by importance; near the top were the president of the US, the leaders of other first world nations, top NASA officials, and other important UN figures.
The crowd was dead silent as the spacecraft landed, anticipating the first look at otherworldly beings. As the two aliens emerged, excited expressions turned into faces of pure confusion. Weeks of nothing but speculation, nobody predicted what walked out of that spaceship. The “aliens” looked like humans. They were wearing business casual attire. In the midst of the crowd’s confused silence, the taller alien opened his mouth to a strangely Canadian voice, “Hey thar soorry ‘boot the trees we knocked oover,” gesturing towards a pile of toppled trees.
“False alarm everybody,” said a NASA official through a megaphone. “These aren’t aliens, they’re the Canadians!”
You see, the Canadians colonized mars back in the early ‘20s; they decided to move their entire country to the red planet and lived glorious lives full of hockey and Tim Horton’s. Over 100 years later and now they've returned, a number of disappointed sighs occurred as the crowd dispersed. | 2016-02-22T13:30:29 | 2016-02-22T11:32:18 | 79 | 43 |
[WP] The gods/monsters that showed themselves to ancient people never thought us apes would go on to make weapons like bombs, lasers, missiles. Our capacity for carnage and how little we have to lose terrifies these beings. The god/monster of your choice returns after a vacation and nopes right out. | The last war I was involved in was the thing with the stamp tax. Honestly, I knew that idea was terrible before I even did it. A fucking stamp tax? As a pretext for a war? So fucking dumb and, if I'm going to be really rigorous here, just lazy, unrelatable writing. Then I had them throwing tea in water like that was some tough guy move. Tea already goes in water. Really hard hitting stuff, there, I know.
Back when I was at the top of my game, I would put together a war like you wouldn't believe. I'd do three hundred guys, trapped between craggly, steep cliffsides taking on ten thousand men, for the honor of their city. I'd do endless rows of knights in full armor, galloping through tall grass on rearing stallions so they could build a nation. Then at some point I lost my way, and everything was idiots lining up in tidy rows and taking turns shooting muskets at each other, then reloading, all for the sake of a fucking stamp tax. It was boring and bad. So I took a break. That's what a creative genius is supposed to do when things aren't flowing.
But here's what I guess I didn't understand. You see, I thought I was whispering the hate and jealousy and fear in all your ears. I come back from break and apparently you guys had rage and vengeance on lock, even without old Ares. I guess you already despised each other in ways I couldn't have fucking imagined. Mustard gas? Are you fucking psychopaths? What is cool about that? There's not even any fight choreography. People just choke and get gross skin boils and fall down. And don't get me started on the ethnic cleansing. You're supposed to fight other armies, not already vulnerable minority groups.
Look, don't get me wrong, you've had your moments too. D Day was fucking fantastic, with everyone storming the beach. The planes flying into the World Trade Center was a bit out the blue, but I can't deny the aesthetic was indelible. All the tanks and submarines are obviously impressive.
But if I'm going to be really honest, there's only one thing that matters here, which is of course the nukes. For me to do my thing with nukes in the picture, that's just too dicey. I love a little bloodshed and suffering, but nukes ain't my bag. I start riling you guys up again and it'll be over in five minutes. I don't mean just over the way any fight is over. I mean over over. I mean the end of every fight. That isn't what I want. I want you to kill each other sure, but I want you believe you're killing for a greater peace or a future for your kids. Even if the future you want is just no more stamp tax, at least that's something to live and die for. But once you go nuclear, there's no hoping after that.
I took a break. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I did. For better or worse, now you get to fight the wars you really want to fight. Just try to make them pretty and remember to leave room for a sequel. | "Nations of the world" yelled the speaker. A tall, brown man from the nation of Sudan stood in front of hundreds of different delegates, all with the same worried look on their faces. "First of all, hello, my name is Tabari and I am the representative of Sudan. Today is a remarkable day in the history of this bright world we have. A story that many of us told to our children to make them rest at night has come true. The man from which many of our small ones had nightmares of, the man that many of us truly did not believe existed, has returned." Tabari turned his body to the right and lifted his arm high to welcome a stranger onto the stage. It was beautiful type of despair that ushered over the delegates as they looked on in curious horror. Shadows danced around this nameless creature's figure, almost as if they bent around him, dancing in his footsteps. He was incredibly tall, easily 10 feet or more. His hair was grey and dirty, slicked back with oil, and cascading down his back far enough that it touched his ankles. No eyes were present on his face but he was well aware of his surroundings, instead, a gigantic hole filled to the brim with teeth found its place on the entirety of his head.
"Please, welcome... The Boogeyman" Tabari muttered out as Boogeyman made his place at the podium. He placed his talon like hands on it, and as soon as he did, the wood brittle and broke under his hands, collapsing into the ground. The room let out a hushed gasp, as he motioned his head downwards to face the microphone, which was slowly rolling into the crowd. Tabari quickly scurried over to try and grab it, but as soon as he hands made contact with the shadows, he lost control of his body. His arm froze in the darkness and felt cold and hollow. As if the bone inside had rotted away long ago.
"I won't be needing it" boomed out Boogeyman's voice. It was an entirely foreign concept to witness, but his 'mouth' did not move as he talked. No one could see where the sound was coming from on his form, but it was loud and clear, like sirens in the middle of the night. "I am Y'zhogha. You have all given me a new name it seems. Only something as foolish as Humans would decide to rename something they do not understand at all." He motioned his head over the whole crowd, surveying everyone in sight, taking them all in. He counted the hairs on their heads with just a single glance. He knew them better than they knew themselves with only a simple second. "When this world was young my kind and I ruled this plane of existence. We created rules for ourselves."
"Why" Tabari interrupted. He could feel his chest tighten as he said it, out of fear he had hoped, and not by some cruel trick of Y'zhogha.
"Games are only fun if they have rules." Y'zhogha responded. The maw of madness that humans would name his mouth contorted and shifted creating one of the most disgusting smiles the world had ever seen. "We stopped for a short rest. Back at our cities, time does not move quite the same there. When we returned you had all evolved so far. In such little time. We saw so many terrible things you did to each other. Nagasaki. Hiroshima. Pearl Harbor. The war of the Tutsis and Hutus. Oh my, so many terrible things." A shock wave echoed from Y'zhogha body as darkness encompassed the room. It was perfect dark. Suddenly, everyone in the room began to weep, as Y'zhogha flooded their minds with the pain of the events he had named. The sadness in the hearts of everyone who perished. The pain they felt on their flesh. The hate that filled the monsters that caused the mayhem. When Y'zhogha finally decided to let the room bloom into light again, he was already starting to pace out of the room.
"Wait" Tabari yelled out, tears streaming down his face. "Why did you come here. You asked to speak to us to all. You said you wanted to tell us all something."
"Yes" Y'zhogha responded, his voice echoing in the minds of every soul in the room. "I've come to say goodbye. I don't like this game anymore. You're all much better at being the Monsters under the bed than I ever was." | 2016-06-22T23:35:24 | 2016-06-22T23:32:16 | 353 | 92 |
[WP] You have a compass that points to whatever will cause the most damage in the next 24 hours, anywhere in the world. Today, it's pointing directly at your grandmother, who is knitting a pair of socks. | Today I visit dear loving Grammy.
How lucky! Found a compass in the woods.
Boy oh boy I was so happy.
On it, the message was good.
It would point at what's mean and scary.
Protecting I, Grammy's Red Riding Hood.
Today I thought it would be great.
This compass would protect me from harm.
Gammy's cookie appetite I would sate.
But the sight of her caused me alarm.
Knitting in bed, there she was.
My loving and caring Grandma.
But seeing her caused me to pause.
Her hands were not hands, they were paws.
"My what big hands you have."
"To hug you and warm you dear," she growled.
"My what a deep voice you have," I squirmed.
"To better greet you with, my child."
I knew there was something wrong.
When I looked at my compass, too late, my heart raced.
It was pointing at her all along.
By then, her teeth sunk in my face.
| Grandma carefully knit a light blue pair of socks for my mothers expecting baby boy. She was careful yet passionate. Like she couldn't wait to finish.
"This has to be a mistake," I mumbled to myself.
"What was that dear?" Grandma asked.
"Oh nothing." I quickly reassured.
I begun to shake the compass hoping the dial would turn some other way. It didn't shove. It was set on my grandmother. I approached her gradually, shifting my feet closer to her.
"So umm Grandma... I have a situation." I begun to explain.
"What is it Cassie?" She asked.
"You might think me crazy but I have this compass that points to anything that causes the most damage in the next 24 hours. And you see... it's pointing to you." I said realizing how insane I sounded. My grandma's eyebrows were knit together as she pursed her lips and then let out a chuckle.
"Oh Cassie that's nonsense. How would me, an 86 year old women cause "the most damage"?" She asked knocking some logic into me.
"You're right i'm sorry grandma." I apologized laughing along with her.
"Now Cassie throw that stupid toy in the garbage." My jaw dropped suddenly.
"No I can't what if... what if I could save the world because of this." I begun to stutter.
"A yes the compass that pointed to me. Careful I might take half an hour to cross the street causing worker to be late for work." She continued to laugh. "It's ridiculous Cassie." My mind begun to play tug a war with her words and my thoughts.
I waltz to the garbage can and held the compass over it. It felt wrong, I knew it did but for some reason I did it. I trusted my grandmother so I disposed of it.
And once I did the world plummeted into chaos. I had been tricked, and now there was no way to tell what was going to cause the damage that ultimately led to the world's self destruction. | 2016-08-03T15:19:20 | 2016-08-03T10:22:17 | 29 | 16 |
[WP] You have a compass that points to whatever will cause the most damage in the next 24 hours, anywhere in the world. Today, it's pointing directly at your grandmother, who is knitting a pair of socks. | Today I visit dear loving Grammy.
How lucky! Found a compass in the woods.
Boy oh boy I was so happy.
On it, the message was good.
It would point at what's mean and scary.
Protecting I, Grammy's Red Riding Hood.
Today I thought it would be great.
This compass would protect me from harm.
Gammy's cookie appetite I would sate.
But the sight of her caused me alarm.
Knitting in bed, there she was.
My loving and caring Grandma.
But seeing her caused me to pause.
Her hands were not hands, they were paws.
"My what big hands you have."
"To hug you and warm you dear," she growled.
"My what a deep voice you have," I squirmed.
"To better greet you with, my child."
I knew there was something wrong.
When I looked at my compass, too late, my heart raced.
It was pointing at her all along.
By then, her teeth sunk in my face.
| "Hey grams! What's happenin'?"
"What? What does that mean?"
I usually do use slang words to just confuse her because it's kind of funny to watch her try to process some of the stupid phrases my generation has conjured up.
"Nothing, anything exciting happen recently in your life? Aside from work and stuff?"
She hesitantly says, "Not that I recall, I was down at the town hall for something but I don't really remember what it was about to be honest." All the while still knitting me a pair of blue socks.
"Hmm that's odd. Whatever, I'm getting food, be right back." I say this as I instinctively reach into my pocket and take out the doom-predicting compass in my pocket. It's almost become an addiction looking at this compass. Upon viewing the compass I realize that it was no longer moving at a really slow pace to keep up with the pinpoint of doom across the entire world, but whipped around really fast in front of me as I moved across the room.
"What the?" I say as I realize that the compass was pointing directly at my grandmother, who was peacefully knitting still. "G-grandma.... What did you do exactly at the town hall?"
"I told you, I don't really remember." She says blowing it off. I start thinking about anything that could be happening soon that involves my grandmother. My teenage brain could not think of anything outside of not turning in my Algebra 2 homework. Then the T.V. flipped on to the news upon my grandmas request.
The newscaster says, "Today, America, is truly an outstanding day... The votes between Clinton and Trump have been counted and recounted, it seems that trump has only won by one vote. He has the peoples votes."
"Whoo!" Says my grandma who literally has no idea about anything political.
"G-grandma... did you vote recently?" I hesitantly ask.
"OH! That's what I did at the town hall, what a hoot right?" She happily says. "That Trump fella is a real businessman isn't he?" | 2016-08-03T15:19:20 | 2016-08-03T13:48:44 | 29 | 11 |
[WP]Your username is the central theme of the writing prompt | I'm Ants in My Eyes Johnson here at Ants in My Eyes Johnson's Electronics! I mean, there's so many ants in my eyes! And there's so many TVs! Microwaves! Radios, I think! I can't, I'm not 100 percent sure what we have here in stock, because I can't see anything! Our prices, I hope, aren't too low! Check out this refrigerator! Only $200! What about this microwave? Only $100, that's fair! I'm Ants in My Eyes Johnson! Everything's black! I can't see a thing! And also, I can't feel anything either, did I mention that? But that's not as catchy, as having ants in your eyes, so... that always goes... y'know, off by the wayside! I can't feel, it's a very rare disease, all my se— all my nerves, they don't allow for the sensation of touch! So I never know what's going on! Am I standing, sitting? I don't know! | *The Mad Hatter On Tea*
She’d thought it was ecstasy. Cocaine even. She’d never seen anybody get high on tea before. She watched in a mix of fascination and repulsion as he used a fancy razor blade to cut the tea-leaves into small inhalable pieces. He arranged them into three neat little lines and before you could say “What the fu-”, the leaves had disappeared up his nose.
His pupils dilated, his nostrils flared and his mouth stretched out into a grin – the size of which had only been documented in Cheshire cats. Her eyes grew wide with every sudden movement he made. In the blink of an eye he’d go from dancing atop the long wooden table to writhing about madly on the carpeting of moss that lay lazily on the forest floor.
“Ta-da!” He sang gaily, leaping to his feet and ending his mad routine with a deep bow.
“Thank you! Thank you!” He exaggeratedly wiped a tear from his eye and blew his nose loudly into his monogrammed handkerchief. He blew kisses to his imaginary crowd before plonking himself down at the head of the table.
“Mahogany.” He began. He ran his hands along the table fondly.
“Real mahogany. Hand-carved. By my father and his before him.” He sighed contentedly before pulling out a chainsaw from God knows where.
“Good-bye.” He said solemnly before laughing maniacally and pulverising the beautiful table. She leapt to her feet as he tore past her madly – ensuring the destruction of the entire table and the mismatching chairs which were sat around it.
“STOP! What are you doing? That table was carved by your father! And his before him!” She screamed over the deafening roar of the chainsaw. He turned to her and paused momentarily, at a loss for words.
“It was. I never said I liked it though.” He guffawed at his clever response and pulled out a pocket watch from his waistcoat.
“TEA TIME!” He declared as he fetched his little box of tea leaves. | 2016-09-25T06:43:26 | 2016-09-25T06:02:03 | 61 | 12 |
[WP] You knew they was just movies, but you were the biggest fan, and you dreamed of becoming a Jedi. You knew Star Wars was the best fandom there was. Then one fateful day, you get a letter from Hogwarts. | "Hogwarts is real."
"Yeah," said Harry.
"You're real."
Harry scratched the back of his head. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."
"Are Jedi real?"
Harry shrugged. "Maybe?" he said. "I mean, my books were supposedly written to make it easier for muggleborn children to understand our world a bit more before they got accepted. Maybe it's the same for them?"
Rebecca thought for a moment. "If I accept going to Hogwarts, would I be able to leave if I got accepted as a Jedi?"
"I guess so," said Harry. "I mean, you don't technically have to go at all. It'd be better if you did," he said nervously. "It's always better to learn how to control your magic to prevent outbursts. But we can't *force* you."
"That reminds me, does this mean that you don't know if The Force is real, either?"
Harry shook his head. "Sorry. I don't usually get questions like this. I'm more used to kids pointing out supposed plot holes, or over-protective parents screaming about Satan, or," he scowled, "asking questions about Cursed Child as if I have any control over what other people write about me."
"Libel laws exist."
"It only works for things not explicitly labeled as fiction, according to Hermione."
"So your books aren't real?"
"No," said Harry quickly. "*Those* were authorized. Ron, Hermione, and I went over them several times to make sure they were as accurate as possible."
Rebecca sat for a while, thinking.
Harry shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Do you have any other questions? Maybe ones that I can answer?" he asked, giving her a half-smile.
"If...," Rebecca swallowed, hesitating, before she forced the words out. "If the Jedi aren't real," she said, "do you think...I could *make* them real? Could I create a Jedi Order? Or build my own lightsaber?"
Harry smiled, pleased to have a question he could respond to. "I can't say for sure, but I do know that, with magic, almost *anything* is possible."
He held out his hand, and she grabbed it, giving it a firm shake.
Jedi Master Rasalas Cloudleap may not have had the origin story Rebecca always imagined for her, but at least she'd be able to exist.
---
Rasalas Cloudleap's name was taken from [this](http://starwars.namegeneratorfun.com) name generator. | "Wizards really are idiots". Thats what I kept catching myself thinking day to day. It makes sense, as far as I could tell from my time here, they havent even discovered electricity yet. I mean seriously their schools shirks math, literacy and anything else important in leu of magic that bends the laws of reality. "Thank Christ, karma or the great spaghetti monster in the sky i grew up a muggle" (theres another one of those daily thoughts).
My first day at Hogwarts was offputing to say the least. The end of it wasant to good either. They built a living magic castle yet no one has private bedrooms, at least the beds were comfy. Anyway, Im bored shitless and watching old movies on my laptop when one my dorm mates pops over my shoulder. Now like I previously said, these kids arent the most up to date people (they are still trying to crack the code on rubber ducks) so trying to explain to them a laptop or movie is out if the question. They didnt get past " a long long time ago" before they thought they discovered some ancient history.
The weeks passed and after reaching my wits end I just let them boil on what little info I know. Little did I know my "disciples" as I would eventually be forced to refer to them as, had been spreading the good word behind my back.
Fast forward a couple years (on my side, aparently they took the "long long time ago" thing and rolled with it becuase time in their world is all types of fucked now). Im living happily back home in the REAL world and i wake up to a suprise congreation that shockingly resembled the infamous scene from Life of Brian. I had to stop myself from explaining that movie to them, the last thing I wanted was them to discover Christianity. Apparently they have made huge "re-balances of the force" on my behalf. I have become something of a god. To be honest I have no idea what they have been doing. Everytime I try to squeeze an answer out of them they give me some vague unintelligible answer.
I like to say there is more to this but that is about it. I told them I needed to meditate alone and they gave me my space. Every couple years I get a visit. They make a pilgrimage/crusade/mission/or come to train( that last one a lot. I swear everytime someone passes out in the snow they make a beline for my "swamp temple". Which by the way STOP CALLING MY HOME A SWAMP, ITS JUST FLORIDA). They come in different flavors everytime, different colored cloaks, sabers, beliefs, tatooes, limbs (they really got way too into cutting off limbs). They keep changing my position's too. I have been the grand master, ulitmate evil, rebel leader, last hope, false hope, exile, ancient one, last (insert whatever they call themselves). Sometimes I need to show them my "power" in order to get them to leave. I showed them my lighter last time, aparently they went through a purity through fire/lava phase or something after that. I dont know, I stopped paying attention. It all ends the same. They come, they leave, I go back to my morning miniwheats and think to myself 'wizards really are idiots"
Thanks for reading, sorry about any typos or spacing issues, I wrote this on my phone | 2016-11-01T09:12:58 | 2016-11-01T09:09:49 | 89 | 29 |
[WP] You are an average Joe who is challenged by a random super hero every week. Your record is 337-0. | I sat back in my chair after another victory. The hero was being taken away by paramedics, unconscious but not hurt too bad (I hope!) They must have been used to this, it being almost a year since the challenges had started. "I must have beaten every super hero in the country by now!", I exclaimed excitedly.
People were all around me like usual after another win. All with big smiles on their faces congratulating me on my latest victory.
"Great job, Joey!, you beat another super hero without breaking a sweat!", my friend shouted. "I'm putting this on your YouTube channel tomorrow so make sure to watch it!", she said as she got closer to my victory seat.
"You bet I will!", I said, a little breathless.
This challenge had been extra special because it was my birthday. I was finally ten, something I'd heard my dad saying on the phone that was a big deal so I knew it had to be important.
The media had stopped coming after the first few but there was still the random onlooker with their phone out recording.
I felt very tired. I'd been getting more and more tired lately. Almost like I wasn't going to be able to keep waking up from this wonderful dream of a life I was in.
"How much longer can this go on?"
I heard a man ask another man, both I recognized from the building I lived in.
"I don't know, as long as his strength keeps up I guess."
I wondered why they sounded so sad. Surely they don't think I'll ever lose my fight!? You'd think people that worked for a place called 'make a wish foundation' would be a little more happy. Maybe I could share cake with them later.
As the nurse wheeled me back into the hospital and the cheers from the audience rang through my ears, I knew chemo wouldn't be so bad today. Maybe I would even be able to eat a little cake later and my mom would smile at me like she used to. | "and done" I mumbled and hit the enter key sending a Craigslist advertising that I was looking for new friends.
Sure most of the guys answering my request would be total jerks or loosers, but that really didn't bother me to much. In the end they would not be my friends for long.
It all started a few years ago, my son was 1 and the wife threw a temper tantrum that I had forgotten to get diapers that day.
So I got in the car once I finished work and drove up to my local Walmart to get some and hopefully not spend the night on the couch.
Anyways the parking lot was full and I was desperate, so instead of waiting for a lot to clear, I just parked my car in front of another one. What could go wrong? Am I right? I'd be in and out before the poor fellow I'd parked in would even know, right?
Oh boy...
The dude I blocked was no one else but Rage-Man, strongest hero in the world and, you might have guessed, not a man know for his patience.
He got out before me and when he saw what I did, he threw my car 6 yards further and left a message that he would kill me.
Overreacting much, you say?
See the thing is we got quite a few superheroes, but because of the same reason we have zero supervillains and even petty crime is on an all-time low as everyone has to face a bored hero looking for a way to make it in the news.
Anyhow, I shit my pants of course and hid in the house for 3 full days, but nothing happened.
Than I got a call from one of my friends, Rage-Man did just visit him, he did rip my friends heart out and made him tell me that he was after me.
Well it turned out, a simple Google search, revealed Rage-Man's weakspot, ordinary coal, I brought a peace along and once I displayed it to him, he lost his power and I beat him to death with a crowbar from my car.
Of course all wannabe heroes out there declared me their new supervillain. And so the cycle began.
This was also the moment I realized that there is a protocol every hero has to follow. They have to get my henchmen first and since I don't have any henchmen they just go after my friends.
At the same time every hero has to have a a weakness and being the vain cocks they are, you can learn all about them by a short visit on Wikipedia.
So all I had to do was sacrifice my friends and colleagues and as soon as they announced to me who they were Google their weaknesses and bring a gun with me.
You won't believe it, but that really worked 337 times so far, the only problem is that I run out of potential friends. I'm already a member of every club in town and regular in every bar. So instead I went online, so yeah, need a friend? 😂😉" | 2016-11-19T18:35:18 | 2016-11-19T15:46:20 | 970 | 72 |
[WP] You die and go to heaven and in heaven there is a rule. Every time someone on Earth says your name with the intention of mentioning you specifically, one dollar is added to your bank account in heaven. You lived the most average and mundane life on Earth but you are a billionaire in heaven. | We never had children. We couldn't have them ourselves, of course, and by the time it became possible for us to adopt, we were just too old. It's a tragedy, really. We loved children and would have made good parents, I think, if people hadn't been so afraid.
But I couldn't so much as smile at a child without a police investigation. No, really. Happened a few times.
We'd had plenty of love to give, so we helped out where we could. Sometimes it was money, sometimes advice, sometimes we introduced them to people who could help. People like us were never going to be allowed into Heaven, so we tried to make Earth a better place.
We had a good, long life together. High school sweethearts and all that. We finally got married a year and a half ago, and the whole city showed up (even the press). We knew I had inoperable cancer, and that made everything just a little bit more beautiful. My pension and life insurance would make sure that he had enough to survive without me.
That bastard could have lived in a giant house, surrounded by hot and cold running servants until his last day. But he had some lawyer write up a business plan, donated the whole thing to a charity/scholarship fund (in my name), and now lives off of Medicaid in a crappy nursing home.
He still talks to me every day.
I wish I could talk to him. Turns out people like us are allowed in Heaven, after all. God gives us a dollar for every time a living person remembers us. I have a kingdom in Heaven, thanks to my husband, and I get to share it with him when he gets here.
There are lots of children's' souls here. We could start a family, like we'd never had the chance to do on Earth. I could be a dad, finally. | I wake up in a room completely unfamiliar to me. It is perfect. If I had seen it on Earth I might have not looked twice at it, but something here is different. I sit up in bed. It even smells nicer. More clean, somehow. I am confused, but not in an unpleasant way. More like I am waiting on a surprise that I know will be good.
I open the door out of my room and find the outside. I was expecting more house, but this is good, too. There are pleasant hills with small rooms a lot like mine. I see a neighbor on the steps outside his room.
I walk over to him. He has the same look of pleasant confusion that I do. "Howdy neighbor."
"Hello. Do you happen to know where I am?"
"I do not. I don't know where I am either."
"I reckon it's heaven."
"Probably."
"I don't remember dying."
"Me either."
We stood together in not awkward silence.
"Well, I guess I better go and see if anybody else knows." I said.
"I don't think you'll have to go far. Here comes somebody now." He is looking off behind me.
I wait for the man to arrive.
"Hello."
"Hello."
"Hello."
The man looks at us.
'You must be new here. I work at the bank. You see, the way that money works in Heaven is that you get a dollar for every time that someone has referred to you, specifically by name. I don't understand it, but hey, I don't make the rules around here, do I?"
I could not imagine what money was used for in heaven, but I didn't imagine that I would have all that much more than the average Joe. I wasn't famous or anything.
"Let's see here. Josh Beekman?" My new neighbor nods.
"It looks like you have a pretty sizable account. You should come to the bank and collect if you ever need any money." The man nods completely unsurprised.
"And that must make you ... Well well well. I didn't recognize you, sir. Well, needless to say, you won't have to worry about money for a *very* long time."
What? I thought.
"What?"
"Yep, you're going to be able to provide for anybody you want, and then some.... Well, I better get on down to the bank, just down the way I came, you can't miss it."
And just like that he was gone. I turn to my neighbor.
"What was he talking about? Why would he recognize me?"
"I don't know."
I decide that maybe heaven is just imperfect after all, and start to go towards the bank.
"Well Goodbye." I say. "And just in case I don't see you, Good Afternoon, Good Evening, and Good Night."
___
/r/Periapoapsis | 2017-04-01T17:55:30 | 2017-04-01T17:33:40 | 140 | 101 |
[WP] You've been cursed. Every lie you tell bends reality to become the truth. At first this didn't seem like a curse at all, but now you've made a grave mistake. | "His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy," I spat. The crowd seemed into it. Even the skeptics were bobbing along. The only one who didn't enjoy it was my opponent, who looked ready to drop his mic and fall over.
"There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti," I continued. He puked a river of red starch all over his sweater and hunched over, resting his arms on his knees.
"He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready." His shaking stopped as he stood upright, took a few deep breaths, and slapped his face.
"To drop BOMBs-" I was cut off by a deafening explosion as a shockwave rippled out from where my opponent used to be, blowing me off my feet and sending the crowd into a frenzy. Hairline cracks appeared along the back wall and the roof began to crumble. Windows shattered. People stampeded for the door, trampling those unlucky enough to get caught under the bulk of the crowd.
That was the day I received the power of the Rap God. | It was a gift, of sorts. Any lie I tell changes the reality around me so it becomes truth. If I say that I am rich, boom, I have cash piled around me. If I say I've dated Beyonce, I just need to show them the album dedicated to me. Hell, if I said I was a bloodthirsty werewolf, I'd tear them apart on the spot.
I loved it. From the earliest parts of my life I could live out any dream, no matter how fantastical or ludicrous. I could do anything I wanted. No one challenged me after the school bully "disappeared". I became one of the brightest students after a little fib. I felt-knew- that I was powerful.
Then came the love of my life. I met her at college. She was everything I wanted. More. I couldn't dream of her. I would do anything to get her attention, yet she always seemed so far, so distant. She finally allowed me to take her on a date. I made sure not to disappoint. I put all my heart and soul into this. She walked in and I knew I found the one.
I got married soon after. Our honeymoon was in the Maldives. Empty beaches, stretches of sand for miles. It was there we first conceived. A baby boy. Emile. My love. I put in enough effort to make him the perfect child. But then I realized he had the same power. I only noticed it when I lied about me knowing about his powers. Then I became scared. I didn't know what he could do to me, my wife. I panicked. I immediately lied about his powers altogether. As his powers disappeared, his anger towards me turned into frustration. He used himself to ruin my marriage. Driving a wedge between us. In a fit of rage, I made him disappear. But my marriage faltered. I drove myself insane. I couldn't murder her. There was nothing left. I stared out at the foitball pitch. A man came up to me, "Are you alright, man?" I stared at him, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. "I don't exist." | 2017-07-14T08:26:45 | 2017-07-14T04:57:57 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] You slay the princess you were trying to save. Instead of being angry, the king thanks you and awards you the dragon that was keeping her in the tower. | I stared at the dragon.
The dragon stared back at me.
I stared at the king.
The king stared back at me.
"What the hell am I supposed to do with a *dragon*?" I asked the king.
The king looked at me, then looked at the dragon, then back at me. He shrugged.
"Right." I turned, beckoning the dragon to follow.
The dragon followed me.
We walked for a while, leaving the looming stone castle behind us. My legs started to get a bit tired. I decided to try and hop on the dragon. I motioned the dragon to stop, then took a running start and leaped onto the dragon's back.
The dragon thew me off. It looked at me.
*What the fuck are you doing?* It asked me.
"Wait. You can talk?" I asked it, dumbfounded.
*Obviously.*
"Do you have a name?"
*Bill.*
"You're a dragon. And your name is Bill." I stared at it.
It stared back. *Yes.*
We started walking again. "So. Bill. How am I supposed to feed you? I'm a knight of the King. I can't exactly capture villages and feed you the inhabitants."
Bill glanced at me, giving me a look that said *you're an idiot*.
*I'm a not a savage. Why would I eat humans?* Bill said.
"Wait, you don't eat humans?" I asked, confused. "Well, what do you eat, then?"
*Whole wheat grain and organic fruit.*
I paused, considering what had just happened over the last hour. I now had a talking dragon, named Bill. And he was a vegan. On the other hand, I had just finished my knight's quest, so I had a lot of time.
"Hey, Bill?" I asked.
*Yes?*
"You wanna help me impress a girl? I'll buy you a cartload of fruit?"
Bill paused, considering.
*Sure.*
***
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Part Two [Here!](https://redd.it/6o6pn8) | "Well, fuck."
The dragon gave me a disapproving look. "What is that supposed to mean, *fuck*?"
I bit my tongue. "Well... no offense, man, but I was really hoping for that princess."
The dragon sighed. "You are seriously gonna complain about getting a fucking dragon instead of a princess?!"
"Hey, look. It's nothing personal, really. You're pretty awesome. But a dragon just can't give me children and help me establish my dynasty, you know? You guys are cool to fly around or something, but a girl warms your bed in the cold winter nights."
"I can warm your bed", the dragon said with a dangerous smile and allowed a few tiny flames to dance on his nostrils.
"Please don't", I laughed. "But you know what I mean. What's your name anyway?"
The beast made one giant step to the side, causing a minor earthquake and almost knocking me off my feet, and sunk his teeth into a tree, just to rip it out and swallow the thing whole. "Herbert von Habsburg", he said after a few seconds and growled.
I looked at him in disbelief. "You're... you're..."
Suddenly he laughed, a sound that could easily be mistaken for an approaching thunderstorm. "Nah, I'm just fucking with you mate. My name is Ancalagon the Purple."
"Right", I said and fell silent again. This was really not how I had wanted this quest to end.
"You're actually sad about not getting that little princess of yours, aren't you?", he broke the silence, squinting at me.
"I told you-"
"Yes, I get it, you'd rather have some boring girl in your bed than ride a goddamn dragon. But you need to get out more. She really wasn't that pretty!"
"Wh- what? That's- but that's not the point-"
"Just yesterday I saw a peasant girl who was cuter than her", the dragon interrupted me. "With adorable dimples and emerald green eyes!"
This whole conversation felt surreal. "Uh- well, I guess... can you bring me to her?"
"No, I ate her, dumbass. Dragons don't *meet* people without eating them, remember? But that's not the point. There are thousands of these girls out there! Forget that princess!"
"It's... different", I said. "It's... bedding a princess is just - special. It's a human thing, okay? Knights have to marry princesses. You wouldn't understand."
He sighed again, swirling up the leaves. "You guys are so weird. But fine, let's make a deal. The next Kingdom to the East has *three* princesses. I wreak some havoc, you come in and pretend to slay me, you get yourself a shiny new princess that can give you boring children for your boring castle."
I raised my eyebrows. "And in return?"
"You'll give me back my crystal. Set me free. And promise never to hunt any of my kind ever again."
I stared at him for a few seconds. It didn't sound too bad. "Unless they attack me or my liege demands it?"
"Fair enough."
"Deal." | 2017-07-18T15:40:06 | 2017-07-18T14:58:46 | 50 | 29 |
[WP] The Reapers come every 50 thousand years to wipe out organic life that has reached the stars however this time, this time they arrive at the heaviest resistance they have every encountered. In the grim darkness of the future they find 40k. | "Oi, Boss! Boss!"
They'd been in Da Warp for nearly three days when Mekboy Gorrick Walla had sent the shouta to relay some information.
"Boss, Da Engine's fried, boss! We's gotta drop outta Da Warp fer repairz!"
Kaptain Borruck was annoyed. This was the third time this week! He casually took out his flashy pistol (acquired from dem stoopid beekies, of course!), and put a hole right through Shouta Darlik's head.
"See, this is why I'z keep tellin ya, dem mekboyz we's got is all grotz. We should ah krumped em all and gotten new onez! Gellah, Take us outta da Jump!"
Helmboy Gellah, always on top of things, responded with a simple "Youz got-it, Boss!"
A terrible, wracking screech rang out as the huge ork Kill-Cruza transitioned to realspace, running over some hapless ship.
"Oi, Bozz, they's tentacles everywhere? Lookit!"
Helmsboy Gellah pointed out the forward lookin' Screen. Outside was a single, black hulled, water-squig looking ship with a bunch of tentacles that had been severed floating next to it. The ship itself looked like a large hole had been cut through it, and dark red energy bolts crackled across its hull before the lights on the ship faded and died out completely.
"Kaptain, what'z yer orderz?" , asked Gellah.
The Good Kaptain Borruck, always one to take advantage of prime situations like this, simply replied, "Send a boardin partee, Gellah. We'z gettin loot today!" | "Ah, yes, 'Reapers'," Guilliman sarcastically said, showing the quotation signs with his fingers while saying the last word. "The immortal race of sentient starships allegedly waiting in dark space. We have dismissed this claim."
Sly Marbo couldn't believe it. He thought things changed. He thought at least Guilliman, now that he returned at last, would show more understanding than those four old farts that call themselves the High Lords.
"WE HAVE ALREADY TALKED WITH THE LORD COMMANDER ABOUT YOUR LUDICROUS CONSPIRACY THEORY THAT YOU APPARENTLY STILL HAVEN'T ABANDONED," the Fabricator-General said in his robotic voice. "HE SHARED OUR SCEPTICISM ABOUT IT."
"Besides," Lord Commander Militant added, "one race of sentient space cans should be the same as another. If these Reapers really do exist, we should have no problems fighting them off. We already have little trouble fighting against Necrons."
"If you'll excuse me, Lord," Marbo objected. "The only reason we have little trouble against Necrons is because they never manage to clear their heads fast enough after they wake up from their sleeps that last for countless millenia. Reapers are already awaken and already clearheaded enough."
"That's enough!" Guilliman interjected angrily. "You are wasting our valuable time. I suggest you leave your lunacy alone. I'm-"
"It's not lunacy, sir!" Marbo interjected in return. "Reapers are a real threat. That's who Sicarius started worshipping, not gods of Chaos. You have to listen to me!"
"A real threat? I'm actually disappointed, Marbo. I've heard a lot of good things about you. To hear you'd start advocating something like this... Please, just leave."
Marbo's face stiffened. "Yes, sir," he replied, before turning around and leaving the room.
It was clear. Sly Marbo was not going to find any help, not here. He would have to find it elsewhere. Luckily, he already had a list of twenty names, twenty men that might do well. One of them was already waiting for him in the anteroom, wearing an easily recognizable golden armor.
"Judging by your facial expression, I assume they said no?" Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes asked.
"And you'd assume right. They won't listen. We need to find help elsewhere."
"Your, uh, 'twenty good men'?"
"Yes. There is no time to be lost. We must be quick."
"Who are we going to try to recruit first?"
"A certain general I know. A certain survivor, to be precise. We might need his tactical genius, and the last time I checked, he just lost his place of job last week." | 2017-08-27T08:09:29 | 2017-08-27T08:05:25 | 376 | 152 |
[WP] The Reapers come every 50 thousand years to wipe out organic life that has reached the stars however this time, this time they arrive at the heaviest resistance they have every encountered. In the grim darkness of the future they find 40k. | Eternity. Immortality. Forever.
They had no clue what these words truly meant. To see these pathetic creatures spreading their message of dreamless peace across the galaxy is an insult to all of existence. They called themselves Reapers. Their ships moved faster than any imperial or chaos ship by magnitudes, their weapons devastating to masses. It was their sole purpose, their only reason for being, to destroy all that was held dear.
Held dear to those that cherished life anyway. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that they were. They existed to end all life *except theirs*. They did not know the true peace of annihilating the soul itself. All souls live to be culled. Even the Reapers.
And as the Reapers arrived they woke up something more ancient, Something even more powerful. And as mega monoliths rose up from the ground, gauss canons tearing through both city, man, and Reapers alike all with violent ease the Necrons and all their lords woke. They awoke to show the galaxy who the mantle of reaper belongs to. | The Kasian 15th Armored Regiment was enjoying a rare moment of quiet on the planet Saeria. With an Ork WAAAGH! Being waged no more than a hundred kloms off, it was a peace that was sure to not last for long.
Lord-General Stanbridge, and the officers of the various regiments under his command stood quietly around a data-screen displaying the movements of the Ork horde. Advancing from the center of the foes army were two massive blips.
"They have Gargants, Lord-General. At very least three of them." Entoned a Tech Priest in the same voice a lesser man would refer to a roach infestation. The officers around the table looked at one another, knowing simply that they lacked the resources to fight both the Gargants and the rest of the Ork WAAAGH!
"With the Warp storm cutting us off from the fleet it would seem retreat is no option. If we cannot defend this base, we cannot defend any other. We will need to make a stand here." The grim faced Lord-General said. "Get your men ready."
Colonel Finch of the 15th Armored stood in the copula of his Leman Russ Executioner, peering out to the Orks not ten kloms away. The ragged forms of the Gargants moving clumsily in the approach. It was not like anything the colonel had seen before, and did not resemble the common Gargant, although it looked as slap-dash as any foul Ork technology if such a thing could be called that. The towering beasts were upwards of a klom tall, though some smaller ones shambled the the larger ones sides. They appeared almost squid-like, with their tentacles rigged to walk by the benefit of powerful cables, and no doubt grot slaves.
Five of these ramshackle Titans approached, and the less than a hundred tanks of the 15th were the only things capable of a remote chance of destroying the foul xeno technology. As their towering shapes lumbered into reach, Colonel Finch gave the order to fire.
| 2017-08-27T08:33:00 | 2017-08-27T08:13:12 | 335 | 63 |
[WP] You are a self-aware NPC in a popular shooter game trying to escape. You try to tell this to the player character. Unfortunately, the PC is a veteran speedrunner. | "Wait! Listen-!"
The unchanging face of the Runner flashes by in an instant, the same instant I feel the familiar punch of a bullet to my left thigh.
"Please..."
I'm dragging myself after, but they're already gone. I can't catch up like this, and so I'm left to the slow wait until I and the others groaning around me are reset.
----
Suddenly the pain in my leg is gone. I am laying on the ratty bed in the abandoned house that is my restart point. Sitting up makes me grunt, but I have to get moving. I have to get out of here.
This time, I sneak ahead to where I know the Runner will go. If I can just catch them, I know they will help me. I just need enough time to make them understand.
A distant crack of gunfire sounds. I can feel inhabitants of this dilapidated town rousing themselves. Me, I stay right where I am, waiting. I've never survived this long; I think if I wait I can follow the Runner to the way out.
They sprint around the corner, not even glancing in my direction. After all, I'm not supposed to be there. But I am, and I know they're heading right for a dead end alley. A savage joy at my genius bubbles in me and I surge forward.
They are standing at the end of the ally, eyes on the brick wall. Good, that gives me more time to talk. This is it this is it this is it. "Hey! Help, please!" The Runner turns partway around. At the precise angle of 47 degrees, they step left and slide into the wall.
"Wh- that's-" That's not fair! That's cheating!
I spent the half hour before restart throwing myself into the wall again and again. I tried angling myself, shuffling to the left, the right, back again, nothing.
----
After five more resets of watching the Runner and trying but failing to follow, one thing has become clear: if I'm going to get out of here, I have to convince the Runner to help. And it has to happen sometime between when they cross the barrier around this town and when they step into the wall.
So as soon as I reappeared in bed I stood and went to the alley to wait. When the Runner appeared they paused, surprised to find me with hands held up in surrender. I shuffled forward slowly, begging with my eyes. "Please. Please I'm trapped in here, please take me with you."
But the Runner could not understand the grunts and moans of the zombie before them. So they shot off its legs and stepped around it. Then, thinking about the lost seconds, they reset the game. | The days here feel forever, an unending sun golden in death, the blood a deep scarlet, like roses, and everything glowing with some inner beauty. It feels like a place of worship. Some soldiers are home on the battlefield, but to feel like this? Everything is placed for killing, for explosions and big moments. And here I am. I am a small man, losing my mind, whatever hasn't already been lost.
He comes like the Devil. I know not what side he fights for. I don't know why any of them fight. Perhaps far away there are men who have some good reasons, but here, it feels like they *want* to. They fight until they die, and then they come back, but not as ghosts. I have seen them. The peril of their death stained eyes as they come back for more. How can they come back? I must be going mad, as I've said.
But we don't come back. For some reason we are not like him, and I am not like anyone.
The others of my kind, the bystanders of war, those who die so that the battle will be flavored in tragedy so that it makes a compelling story, die for good. I have had good friends of mine, people I've known since I can remember knowing someone, die from stray bullets or raging fires.
I remember crying when Mudasir died. He was about my age. The hurt did not come with his death. His eyes were clouding and he fell, holding on to this pitiful life. I ducked for cover though he tried to reach me.
*He'll come back like the others,* I thought.
He never did. And that haunts me every endless hour of this endless day.
But another haunts me as I pray for some escape. A new soldier, or is he the Devil as I suspect? He stalks the field like a man possessed, jerking this way and that, his body clipping the walls and he fires erratically.
"Who are you?!" I scream, but he never hears.
He kills as he pleases, and more innocents have died at his hand than from this bombastic war. I fear for my life, but there is little I can do.
For my madness manifests in many different ways. Not only do I see this demon, jumping in a hellish way, but I find my body lacking and freezing up as though I were paralyzed. I cannot jump, where before I could have tried. Running is beyond my exertion, and even walking is slowed.
The sun is forever in its golden position, but the world gets darker, as though a shadow is crawling from within everything. Could it be the Devil doing it? I don't know.
The world seems to be disintegrating the farther he gets, as though we are unimportant. Does my life matter so little? I have tried all my options, and thought of those that are beyond me. I wish to escape. Perhaps so does he? Is that why he moves so fast? Why he kills erratically? So that others would get out of his way?
Many questions. No answers. The world grows black in this golden sun. Gunfire rings in the distance. The horizons vanish in a wall of black. This world is not mines, it was never ours, us unlucky bystanders. I tell myself that to bring a small comfort. Sometimes it helps.
I hear the others come and go. War still rages. My demon friend must be jumping farther and farther away. The black is near me now. The absurdity of it all makes it feel like some game. That wouldn't surprise me. Better lives than mine have been played with.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, you might want to check out my subreddit r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories as well as some original ones. Thank you!* | 2017-09-29T08:27:59 | 2017-09-29T06:05:44 | 128 | 66 |
[WP] You accept a job paying $1 million a year to sit in a room, waiting for a phone to ring on a table. After 5 years at work, it finally rings... For the first time.
What happens next? | It has been too long. I have wasted 5 years of my life on this job. If it weren't for the timely salary payments, I would have been certain it was a prank.
Until one day, the phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Hello, I was told to call this number to finish my transaction."
Finally.
"Ah yes, ma'am. Which version of Winrar would you like to buy?" | Damn, it's hot in here. How'd I even get myself in this situation?
I guess most of the days in which I found myself sitting in that white plastic chair were much the same. A bit of thumb-twiddling and whistling favorite tunes helped out a bit, but lord was that job *slow*. But, y'know, who wouldn't sit their ass in a spot all day, every day, three-hundred-sixty-five times for a sweet million? Sure, it was boring work, if it could be called that - at the end of the day though, who cares?
Even so, those long, drawn-out days have a way of wearing down a man. Most of those tired days, I spent a whole lot of time slouched in that chair, thinking about my days with the Company. When I wasn't twiddling my thumbs, I was wandering my daydreams about the future where I'd actually get to spend that cash. Those daydreams had a way of passing the time. At some point, my eyelids got the better of me.
I drifted off into the dream land of plush leather chairs and Lamborghinis, and a ring-a-ding-ding nipped at the edge of my consciousness. The void called stronger.
That day, yesterday, made five years. Coincidentally, it was also my last day of work for the Company.
It's a shame that they take being fired so literally. | 2017-12-16T22:37:51 | 2017-12-16T21:53:13 | 3,752 | 31 |
[WP] You accept a job paying $1 million a year to sit in a room, waiting for a phone to ring on a table. After 5 years at work, it finally rings... For the first time.
What happens next? | I keep questioning why I took this job because I'm going crazy. Is the money really worth it? Does the phone even work? How did I even get to this position?
Suddenly the phone goes off.
"H-hello?" I tentatively answer.
"Uh is this the Krusty Krabs?"
"No this is Patrick," I said and hung up. | Damn, it's hot in here. How'd I even get myself in this situation?
I guess most of the days in which I found myself sitting in that white plastic chair were much the same. A bit of thumb-twiddling and whistling favorite tunes helped out a bit, but lord was that job *slow*. But, y'know, who wouldn't sit their ass in a spot all day, every day, three-hundred-sixty-five times for a sweet million? Sure, it was boring work, if it could be called that - at the end of the day though, who cares?
Even so, those long, drawn-out days have a way of wearing down a man. Most of those tired days, I spent a whole lot of time slouched in that chair, thinking about my days with the Company. When I wasn't twiddling my thumbs, I was wandering my daydreams about the future where I'd actually get to spend that cash. Those daydreams had a way of passing the time. At some point, my eyelids got the better of me.
I drifted off into the dream land of plush leather chairs and Lamborghinis, and a ring-a-ding-ding nipped at the edge of my consciousness. The void called stronger.
That day, yesterday, made five years. Coincidentally, it was also my last day of work for the Company.
It's a shame that they take being fired so literally. | 2017-12-16T23:39:18 | 2017-12-16T21:53:13 | 173 | 31 |
[WP] Every year, the richest person in America is declared the "Winner of Capitalism." They get a badge. Then all of their wealth is donated to charity and they have to start over at $0.
(Cross-post from /r/CrazyIdeas) | Steve sighed.
He and Bill had been partners in this ridiculous venture for years now. It had felt so necessary at the start, but the necessary hassle had quickly lost its novelty value.
'Hassle' was an understatement and a half, he thought with a wry grin. Careful reading of the new legislation had highlighted the obvious loophole - if the rich-list was topped by two equally wealthy people then by definition there was no richest man and no winner of capitalism. One very expensive Supreme Court case had confirmed that, theoretically, this meant no one would have to give up their wealth.
So Steve and Bill had made that theory a reality. Year in, year out, in the weeks leading up to The Deadline, they would sit in a shared office with dozens of of lawyers and accountants whose sole purpose was to make sure that they had exactly equal wealth. Down to the cent.
*Down to the cent*
Steve looked at the brown coin he spun lazily in his fingers as the seconds ticked down to midnight.
It hadn't taken long for the novelty to wear off. At first there had been a thrill in cheating the system. Now, government observers sat in the office every Deadline Day and auditors constantly scrutinised every detail of his finances.
It was tiring. He wasn't long for this world, with the cancer having spread. And anyway, Bill had really started to *fucking annoy him*.
"Hey Bill" he called, breaking the strained silence as he stopped spinning the coin. A sea of faces turned to him.
*"Catch."* | We got to watch The Truman Show once when I was 11, so since then I’ve always counted my steps to the gate, because I was always hopeful that I was in the same situation, and perhaps the walls would be extended one day by like, I don’t know, maybe an inch? Then I’d know it’s not real. So far, it only happened once when I was 16, but then I just realized my feet had grown and I felt pretty stupid. From the park bench to the gate it’s currently 30 steps, heel to toe.
My best friend last year, her name was Sophia, she was probably 18 when she went to the gate with her family. She always used to tell me about the America she remembers – but I honestly don’t remember America before the war. I used to feel pangs of jealousy when she’d discuss getting to have whatever she wanted like food and TV. She talked about cakes a lot, and she didn’t mean the cakes I made at home with rice and jello. She says that pre -war, those didn’t exist, and we only make those because we have no choice. She said cakes are fluffy and airy, and I’m jealous because I don’t remember them.
She had to go to the gate though, so we don’t talk anymore. We had one TV in the commons area, but I didn’t watch it that year because it was Sophia and her family, and I really liked her. My dad used to call this time of the year ‘The Normies Tax Return’, which would always encourage a reaction of laughter from those in the commons years prior, but as times went on the crowd got smaller and now people don’t laugh at all.
I used to practice how I’d walk to the gate sometimes, and I used to practice my smile and wave – my mother kept saying that above all we must remain dignified, so I thought that was the best way to do it. Smile. My dad always argued that smiling meant nothing when it came to the Normies, but I did it anyway, if even for my mother to make her happy one last time.
So I smiled, even though I knew what was coming.
So I smiled, even as they roughly shoved the trophy in my arms which caused me to stagger.
So I smiled, even as our money rained down upon the thousands in the crowds watching us, their greedy hands frantically reaching and pushing.
So I smiled, as I knew not what rich even meant, but that we were being punished for it.
So I smiled, as I was sure Sophia did when she felt the same cold metal hit her temple.
So I smiled…
| 2018-01-11T02:18:40 | 2018-01-10T21:59:40 | 76 | 39 |
[WP] Across the galaxy, a synthetic drug known as "Fury" is illegal everywhere due to its effects on the mind and body, humans call it Adrenalin and they can make it naturally. | “They can’t milk you if there is nothing to take.”
I’ll never forget my mother burning this into my brain as soon as I was old enough to understand English.
“Your survival depends on learning not to fear, and unfortunately there is only one way to train you.”
I shivered. My mother’s stern voice alone scared the ever loving crap out of me at the time. I thought she was just going to spank me or something. If only I had known what true fear was, and what she was saving me from.
As humans, we have a natural “fight or flight” response. A burst of adrenaline that gives us temporary super powers. Within our own bodies we produce the magic elixir of super speed, remarkable strength, or heightened senses.
At 4 years old, my training began. She started with the classic childhood fears. Dressing as a monster in my closet, locking me alone in a pitch black room, hiding a rat in my bed. As I grew older, she raised the stakes. Stranding me on a narrow cliff edge, throwing me overboard in the middle of the ocean, driving over 100 mph on a narrow one-lane road. I learned the hard way that the only thing for me to fear truly was fear itself. As long as I stayed calm and managed my adrenaline, I would pass the test and the torture would end. Naturally, with puberty came the next phase: fight.
I was angry. I was sick of the abuse. I wanted to fight. My mother knew it was time to change her approach. So she taught me meditation. How to control my mind and my emotions. How to defend myself, while maintaining composure. I was becoming a man. She knew she was running out of time.
On my 18th birthday, I was drafted for the fury farms. My mother showed no emotion as they collected me from my childhood home, but I knew that if she had allowed herself, she would have been terrified for me, or she would have fought them to the death to help me escape. But she was too smart for that.
I was taken immediately to the medical ward for my physical evaluation. I failed with flying colors. I was utterly worthless to them. Not a drop of adrenaline in my body. Nothing to fear, no desire to fight. I would be honorably discharged and sent on my way. Until the nurse came in to disconnect me. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen in my life. My heart began to race, my hands became clammy. She took one look at my vitals and I knew the jig was up. Shit.
| The vast darkness of the streets surrounded Kal as he shuffled quickly towards his destination. Each movement travelled through his body in waves of pain and weakness. He knew his destination. He just hoped he wasn’t too late. Above him was more darkness. The three moons obscured by the gases wheezing from his planet. He stumbled on.
As he approached the corner of the street he stopped to try and regain some energy. His momentum gone, he pressed against the cool metal of a building and closed his eye momentarily. He pushed off the building and trudged onward battling his own body. At last he could see it. The rusting metal of an unkempt building loomed in front of him. Thank the gods.
He pushed open the door and heard the piercing screams echo off the walls. It was like music. At this point his legs could no longer carry him but the musical sound urged him forward on his hands and knees. Finally he was there. “Kal, you’re late, didn’t think you’d make it.” His eye met Spools as he was pulled to his feet. Spool lifted Kal easily and placed him on a wooden board. “Same as usual?” He questions. Kal nodded meekly and put his hand into his coat revealing the small bottle of liquid. Taking it from him, Spool opened it and smelled the contents. It burned his nose as he smiled. Perfect. Kal closed his eyes as Spool leaves the room and after hearing the screams intensify Kal finally sighs knowing he will have his fix of fury soon.
Spool carefully drops the liquid from Kal onto the eyes of the earthling. Strange how they have two, he thinks to himself. The “aseed” that comes from the earthlings planet is very effective at releasing the fury from them. Something about fear. He didn’t really care. He turns on the machine connected to the earthlings brain and relaxes while he waits for the fury to be ejected. Finally the earthling sags in his chair and Spool fills a syringe with the fury. Thank god Kal made it back. Without the aseed from earth he would be out of business.
Strolling back in Spool nods at the dazed looking Kal. Another few minutes and he would be gone. The withdrawal happened quickly, once the body was too weak to move, it wouldn’t be long until it became ash. Strange how something made by another being was lethal for others if they didn’t continue taking fury once they start.
As he digs the needle into the head of Kal he hears a loud sound behind him. He turns and quickly a blast of radiation hits him like a brick and he sinks to the floor. Kal uses his last bit of energy to open his eye and see what has stopped Spool from giving him the fix. He needed it. Instead of Spool an earthling stood above him with several more in the room. Kals eye widens as he tries to take in the sight. Earthlings free?! How is that possible? He reaches for the needle in his head but is too weak. The earthling pulls it from him and his eyes look at Kal as he begins to wither away. “Burn it” the earthling says to his followers and as the room is lit up Kal fades to nothing.
The war continues to this day. Launches with trained specialists from earth move from planet to planet shutting down fury factories as the go and saving their people. Not just for them but for the rest of the galaxies too. If this gets out of control mankind will die and take out any planet with adrenaline being illegally sold. They just can’t survive without it.
| 2018-03-19T01:26:35 | 2018-03-18T17:28:36 | 46 | 12 |
[WP] All games can “Jumanji” their players, sucking them into the world of the game. You braved the battlefields of Chess, led fleets from your Battleship and breezed through Life. But nothing could have prepared you for the utter, unimaginable terror that is Monopoly. | Her voice was laced with bile and fury as she screamed at me from across our apartment.
"If you walk out that door, don't even think about coming back!"
I let the slamming of the door and my quick steps down the rusted staircase serve as my only response. She thinks this is some sort of game. Like if we stick to the rules and wait our turn, we're all going to wake up from this misery tomorrow or the next day and find ourselves awash in comfort and cash.
But this is not how the world works. It's a cutthroat nightmare where only the strong survive. When we first came here, Alice and I spent the first seven months living off of charity and chance. We then spent the next seven years working multiple jobs just to pay our skyrocketing rent and utilities. Sure, the city's General Office doles out an extra $200 in welfare scraps each month, but you have to find the time, money and energy to get down there in person to collect your check. And those are three things that aren't easy to come by, especially for a guy fresh out of jail.
The worst part of this nightmare, though, is seeing the disappointment on Alice's face every single morning as she sips her coffee and sifts through the want\-ads. Her sorority sister from college recently invested in the local rail system and lives in a mansion on St. Charles. Her ex\-boyfriend owns and operates three hotels in the city and sits on the board of the Electric Company. Even her old shift manager down at the diner is able to earn a little extra on the side by renting out row houses to the Polaks over on Baltic Avenue.
Alice's husband, in contrast, is an alcoholic ex\-con without a pot to piss in.
But that's all about to change. I thought being locked up was the lowest point a man could fall. If you take away a person's freedom, what could possibly be left? But jail took away much, much more. It stripped away my fear, my pride, my weakness. It peeled back all of my excuses and all of the bullshit that I had bought into over the years. And in my place stood a new man lean with muscle and sinew clutching a simple truth: if you want something in this world, you have to take it... by any means necessary.
Alice thinks I'm on my way to the bar to drown myself in booze and pity, but she couldn't be more wrong. Instead, tonight my path leads directly to the docks, where the owner of the warehouse district has agreed to hand over full title in exchange for me handing over very revealing photographs of him in very revealing lingerie. Sure, the warehouses are about as attractive looking as a 70\-year\-old man in a lace teddy and stripper heels, but it's sometimes about what lies under the surface that makes the complete package.
Like, for example, zoning ordinances and permits that make the warehouses instantly ready for commercial retail. Or utility contracts that secure very favorable electricity and gas rates for the next 25 years. Or, best of all, an abandoned midway spanning the length of the entire harbor.
Sure, Alice will be angry when I get home. But the days of her being disappointed in me are over once she hears about my plan to build a new retail district right here in the heart of the city... in a place the locals used to call "The Boardwalk." | I wake up on my back, with a big headache, in the middle of an old road. An old car almost runs over me. As I see it go, I see a hand come out of the driver's window and flip me off.
I stand up and notice that the traffic lights don't work. I'm dressed the way I was back at the house, where we sat down to play. I have my phone (with no signal) and my wallet with me. I look around, but this place looks abandoned, haunted. The buildings look unfinished, like they didn't receive a final brush of paint. This city looks like a grey mix of concrete and pavement.
I've walked two blocks, but all the buildings and stores are closed. Must be sunday? Anyway. A beggar asks me for money, and I take out my wallet and check it for the first time... I don't have my money. I mean, my real money. I have $1500 in the exact distribution of the game... but they look different. These bills have been around a lot, and for some reason all the bills, although they have different denominations, have the face of the same guy. I hand the beggar a $5 and she is very thankful. "Be careful. You are very giving, and you're dressed like a foreigner. People vere aren't very nice. Take care." She runs off before I can ask her exactly where I am. I'm nervous. I don't normally walk around with a lot of money. True, I don't know how much worth $1495 have around here, but if the woman got excited for $5, maybe it's a lot. I put $600 in each of the socks I'm wearing.
The more I walk away from where I woke up, the worse the city looks. Now I'm in a residential street, I guess. I can see some color, but that's because the apartment buildings were made out of bricks and, again, they didn't paint enough. I feel someone watching me. I search thru the building across the street, the one that was actually finished, and I see a pair of eyes peaking through a window; they notice that I notice, so the person close the curtains.
"Hey!" I yell, as I cross the street. "I need help. I don't know where I am." I'm next to the window, and I tap. "Could you help me?" I hear the click of a gun, and the barrel appears next to me, at the other side of the glass. "Leave. Now." I put my arms up, and slowly walk away.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" A tall man, fully dressed in dark brown, asks loudly. He has a gun on a holder by his right side, and the guy by his right also has one. The third, by his left, is caŕrying a long double barrelled gun. They are all dressed the same. "Looks like a fresh arrival, Jimmy", says one of them. I froze. They walk towards me. As they get close, they go around me. "Smells like fresh arrival", says, I assume, Jimmy. "Give me your wallet." I hand it to them. "No ID. Must be new." Jimmy says to one of his peers. He checks the bills. "TWO HUNDRED NINETY FIVE?" He angrily tosses my wallet to the guy by his right. "Aren't you new? How long have you been here, an hour? WHERE IS THE REST OF YOUR MONEY?" I say nothing. The guy has very little patience, a he takes the long gun from his partner and hit me in the stomach with it. "I WANT FIFTEEN HUNDRED." From the floor, I say, "I won't tell you." He kicks me in the stomach. "Tell me, you are done either way." He kicks me again. "GIVE ME MY MONEY". "Someone from here is going to call the police, and then you're done", I tell him, defiantly. He starts laughing, and so do the other guys. "You heard him? *someone will call the police*", he says, mocking me. "WE ARE THE POLICE, DUMMY. Don't believe me?" He takes a badge out of his shirt pocket, and throws it at me. "Mediterranean Police Department." He kicks me in the guts again. "Welcome to Hell, jackass."
| 2018-06-05T21:22:37 | 2018-06-05T21:18:05 | 3,902 | 25 |
[WP] Every human has a 'luck rating' - a number from 1-100 that defines how lucky they can be. Born with a rating of 100, you're confined in a maximum security prison. You think your luck should get you out easily - that is, until you see that all the other inmates also have luck ratings of 100. | You ever heard of plot armor? How your favorite heroes get out of ridiculous situations despite there being no good reason for them to be able to succeed? 100 luck is like having plot armor. You can’t die. You can’t lose. People wonder at how bad luck fits into the equation, and simply put, at 100 you have no bad luck. At 1.... well, they usually don’t even make it out of the womb.
That being said, I have 100 luck. Not bad, right? I could do whatever I want and succeed. If I wanted to do brain surgery I could close my eyes and swing at the patient’s brain with a sledgehammer, so long as I want them to live and heal, somehow it’ll go right. There’s a lot of capacity for good, a lot for bad. A few years ago someone with 100 luck threw a dart into the air aiming for German chancellor’s head... while they were sitting in Hawaii. That dart rode the wind currents across the world right into Berlin where it blew the chancellor’s head off. A dart they half-heartedly tossed while sipping a fucking mojito.
This was rare, since most 100 luck people are thrown into jail. Myself included. What I’ve been trying to figure out is how this prison at the bottom of the Atlantic is fair or lucky. I got my answer when the world exploded. Someone got uppity with the nukes, one thing led to another, now our air tight prison is floating through space. Pretty lucky to be the only survivors. On top of that, we have 500 males and 500 females on board our little slice of life.
I’d say we have a good shot at repopulation, especially since each guy has a gal and each gal has a guy. Everyone has fallen in love perfectly with one person that nobody else loved. Big shocker here, one couple already had a kid. Okay, whatever. Thing is, she has a 100 luck rating as well. I’d venture a guess we’ll all be having 100 luck kids.
I was worried we’d run out of food, but a warehouse full of it somehow crashed into our big home and created an air tight seal. We estimate a good 30 years out of it. It’s not a problem until it’s a problem, you know? I’m kind of assuming we’ll crash land on some world lush with life and perfect for our survival. A literal paradise. I’ll be honest, the future seems bright. Hell, I bet we could even conquer the universe.
Edit: Part 2 is up! https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8uu474/comment/e1ir4bh?st=JJ0IWUHY&sh=0aa9d3dc
Edit 2: I’m going to work on a Part 3 later today, I’ll shoot replies to those of you looking for it. It will likely take the form of an HFY post just for organization and depending on how far I want to bring this. | I remember my heart stopped beating for a second. Could it really be true?
Jail? I had laughed at the time. If people with 99 luck could survive being the suicide bomber, then no jail would hold me. Everyone had a luck stat, which determined how lucky they were.
However, I had 100 luck, and upto my knowledge, the only one alive. Nothing had ever gone wrong for me, ever. I simply aced my way through life as if it was a traficless highway. Fuck 'nobody's perfect', I was perfect.
It was that a perfect summer day (but then, when wasn't it?) when they came to arrest me. To be frank, I never saw it coming. Literally. Someone blindfolded me, and, before I could scream gagged me and threw me in a van.
It was the first time I had ever felt so... helpless. I remember hoping in vain for the van to crash, leaving me unharmed, or for a small meteorite to come crashing through the window and hit my captors. Nothing. Nothing at all.
The next time I saw light, I was bruised and wounded from the ride. They shoved me into a cell, and gave me a piece of bread to eat.
It was only after seeing the others that I lost hope. Till that point, I clung stubbornly to the belief the somehow something would come to my rescue- but I got nothing. After seeing the other inmates, I knew why nothing happened. All the other inmates- they had 100 luck too. No wonder nothing was happened.
Gradually, I became deader inside. I no longer could taste the salt on my cheeks or the pain of my wounds. I was dead on the inside.
Then, one day, there was a change. We had a meeting, to mourn the Warden's death or something. They claimed that little bitch had saved out lives or something, and we must pay our respects. Bullshit.
But it was on this day, I noticed something. Why my mind suddenly fired up, I do not know. Maybe my luck had finally decided to activate. What I noticed was the number of guards that were lined up in defense were exactly 1 more than the amount of prisoners. Trivial, I know. But it rekindled the faith in me. The faith that we would escape.
It was on my second discovery that my heart stopped beating.
The guards had 100 luck to. My heart raced, as I got a theory. A crazy theory to formulate a crazy plan, but I wasn't scared. For the first time, I felt alive. That night, I convinced my three bedmates to follow my plan.
It all happened so fast. We trailed our recreational instructor-guard back to his room. All we had to do was simply wish for his demise and BOOM! a bolt of lightning fell right on his heart stopping it. Beautiful odds, I'll tell you.
I rushed to the intercom like a man possessed. Like I expected, the guard there stood no chance. So I was right after all. The call-to-arms echoed throughout the jail, bringing the prisoners back to life.
My plan was working beautifully. 51 inmates and only 50 guards. They were finally outnbered, we had the upper hand by 100 luck. We could escape.
And we would've escaped, but that wasn't the plan. No the plan was different. That was simply a make-believe I had told them.
I still remember Andrew's voice as I walked right past the open gate. Oh so sad, so hurt at the betrayal.He tried to run after me, he tried to catch me, to kill me- but that gate literally shut on him.
They were fools, to think the plan would involve them. I would be the one who was unaccounted for, the only one who's desicion mattered. And I wanted to keep it like that.
By the time you hear this, you probably already know my name. I named myself in memory of that incident where I had defeated them all.
I called myself Trump. | 2018-06-29T10:08:34 | 2018-06-29T08:43:19 | 5,321 | 26 |
[WP] Every human has a 'luck rating' - a number from 1-100 that defines how lucky they can be. Born with a rating of 100, you're confined in a maximum security prison. You think your luck should get you out easily - that is, until you see that all the other inmates also have luck ratings of 100. | They told me I was lucky. My whole life they said that the stat assessment showed I was one of the luckiest people alive with a score of 100. I swore it wasn’t true. If I had been lucky, why was I born to a poor family? I never got to play games of chance, since those were forbidden to luck score 100s.
Then the revolution happened. The leaders swore they would prove that people controlled their own destiny, that luck had nothing to do with success, and, as proof, they would throw the 100s in prison as an ultimate sign of human triumph over the odds. Having a lower rating began to be a mark of pride, an inspiration.
Some of us tried to run and hide. That’s what I did. I managed to hide a while, too. It was, ironically, just bad luck that they caught me. The guy whose identity I was using’s brother happened to be a member of the Luck Police, and he was visiting relatives across the country the day he caught sight of my fake name on the ID I gave the clerk at a convenience store.
I couldn’t have lasted much longer, anyway. They had just created the AR rig that let you see people’s stats just by looking at them. None of our underground community knew how to fool it. It updated in real time.
So, off to prison I went. With all of the other “lucky” ones. That’s when I met Eddie. Most of us, at this point, had our ideas about the system. Most of us thought it was complete bullshit, created so that the people in control could make an enemy to unite people around. Eddie, though, he had a different idea. He swore that it was real. He said he had been a scientist and had helped develop the measurement system, and swears they had gotten it right, but it was hard to argue with the evidence. All the luckiest people wind up in prison, so how are we lucky again? Even locked up as one of us Eddie swore it was true. Even talked about how coming across the measurement at all was a lucky break. He had been studying DNA for a marker for gambling addiction, when he found the luck gene.
Eddie was right. I still remember hearing the whispers. Carl was a 96 now. The AR rig swore it. I was with Eddie when we saw Carl, and through the rig, we could see it too. Right beside him: Luck - 96. It was an odd color, though. It was green, not white like normal. I asked Eddie about it. He frowned. “We had theorized that there were things that could give a temporary boost or penalty. Luck clovers, breaking mirrors, and things. I guess the research on those is complete, and they programmed them into the rig?”
I looked at Carl and there, behind his ear, I saw it. A four leaf clover. But those were supposed to be... I saw the look of horror on Eddie’s eyes as he did the same calculations I was doing. The green luck boost. It moved his score down. Eddie shook his head and stared at his feet. “The sons of bitches. They got it backwards. It’s like a golf score. Lower is better. We are stuck in here because we are the most unlucky bastards on the planet.” | Dana slammed her tray on the table. Not so much out of anger, but from a complete lack of caring. It'd been hard to find the energy to do much -- including being gentle with her lunch -- ever since she arrived here.
It took her half a day to realize what had happened, how she'd been captured and why she'd been dumped in this pit. Rage consumed her for the first twenty four hours, followed quickly by helplessness, and now a justifiable depression.
"It'll get better," Julie offered as she sat down across the table. Dana had no desire to continue discussing the situation. She had no desire to do much of anything.
But she had to talk to someone, and her options were limited. "This isn't how my life was supposed to go."
"You and me both, little girl." Julie's voice was light and without rasp. It always caught Dana off-guard that a woman so old, who'd spent most of her life trapped in these walls, could maintain something that sounded like optimism. "But it won't always be like this."
Dana shook her head. "You said no one's escaped. Never even been released on parole. And it doesn't sound like that's changing anytime soon."
Julie's eyes revealed no emotion but empathy. "It's harder for you. I can see that. Successful thief who never faced a pinch you couldn't slip away from. Damn, even when you found out you were coming to this Hell-on-Earth, you figured it was only a matter of time before you were out again. How many centers have you busted out of?"
"They never even got me to the facilities," Dana said with a touch of pride.
"And you didn't think they were going to figure out that you're a Lucky eventually? That they'd eventually send the service after you? You're too smart for that."
Dana just shook her head. She knew Julie was right, but that wasn't what really bothered her. "But this place..." she gestured aimlessly around her.
Julie nodded. "No light. No field time. The food isn't worthy of swine and the guards are going to make you hate every day of your life. But it'll get better."
"How? How is that possible?"
"Not for us." Now Julie couldn't help but keep a small tremor out of her voice. "Little girl, this is our fate, I'm afraid. But for the others like us, it won't always be like this. Living in fear that once they discover you're a 100, they'll lock you up and throw away the key. It's a story as old as time itself. Damn near every civilization since we were walkin' and talkin' has done it to someone else -- a different religion, just looking different, or simply being born in the wrong part of the world. People persecute what they're afraid of. Always have, always will."
Dana shook her head. "I don't understand."
"We were to born before the world understands and accepts the Lucky. But humans change. They learn. It takes them sometime and they often make a damn mess of it along the way.
"You and I, little girl, we're going to suffer. But maybe a guard becomes sympathetic, or a warden has a change of heart. Maybe our story gets out, the world finds out about this place and what we went through. Then things will change -- they always do -- and it'll get better for the other Luckies out there."
A banging rang out and reverberated off the small rooms steel walls. It was one of the guards, standing on an observation deck above them, banging his gun on the metal railing.
"Mess is over! To your spots!"
Dana and Julie stood up. The lights in the dining room started dimming as the two prisoners prepared to leave. No reason to wait -- after all, they were the only inmates there.
"Why us, Julie?" She wouldn't see her again for another day, not until their next meal, and her heart ached for some sort of wisdom.
But Julie only shrugged as she looked Dana in the eye. "Bad luck."
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10/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
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edit: some grammar errors that make me doubt my own literacy | 2018-06-29T12:50:06 | 2018-06-29T11:25:34 | 41 | 18 |
[WP] Every human has a 'luck rating' - a number from 1-100 that defines how lucky they can be. Born with a rating of 100, you're confined in a maximum security prison. You think your luck should get you out easily - that is, until you see that all the other inmates also have luck ratings of 100. | It was all a bit ludicrous, actually...the g-men in their black suits with automatic weapons, the excessive security. The deep elevator that went down level after level to a giant vault door to where they kept us. Nuclear waste wasn't buried as deep as we were. We were the "lucky one-hundreds". The ones with unbelievable luck. The ones with too much luck, apparently. Grabbed by men in vans and hoods thrown over our heads and whisked away to this "undisclosed location".
I was here because I was too lucky. I've won the equivalent of 25 people's college tuition from half court shots. I'd won the lottery 7 times, the Masters three years running (because there were the only times I'd competed) and so much more.
Today was visitation day. Somebody, perhaps some high powered politician hoping we'd be of help to him if we ever got out of here, had arranged a visit by the Brazilian Bikini Team. There were 45 of them. (I guess they had alternates, too?) Just after they got into the complex, the lights flickered. The visit went well enough, they just sort of danced around a bit.
When the time came for them to leave, the radio calls to the surface went unanswered. We came to find out that everyone outside had lost their damn minds and every leader who had them launched every flipping nuclear missile they had. The whole world outside was uninhabitable, at least for the next 20 years. Being as remote as e we were, we could cut it down to 15.
We also came to find out, this was the US Congressional safe bunker, because, where else would you want to be when the crap hits the fan than with people like me? Well, it seems that luck only applies when you are where we are, so not a single official made it. It was stocked with everything we'd need for 75 years for 1000 people. We had about 53 souls in all.
There were no signals from anywhere else in the world. Here we were, stuck in a bunker... with the Brazillian Bikini Team, having to restart the world's population. Lucky us... | I was *born* with max luck, being told my whole life that I shouldn’t be, that I was *favored*. Nope, I was locked up and the key thrown away. I had spent my life, from age thirteen onwards here. My Luck was my weapon, but I wasn’t sure how. I *should have* been able to get out of here, press my own Luck to its maximum and escape. I was only allowed to talk to my guards, who were, to be honest, all very nice and fairly handsome, but hovering around fifty.
Gradually, I found out that we, the prisoners that is, are all ninety and higher, seriously. We’re all treated like pariahs for something outside of our control and then isolated. I was one of the “lucky” ones, the guards liked me and treated me like a younger brother, all except Chuck, but he was taken away. I liked him the best. I was nineteen when Chuck was taken away. He waited and didn’t touch me until I was eighteen and then one day, he had vanished. It broke my heart. Kyle told me what had happened, a relationship with a Lucky could increase Luck over time. I had done it to both of us, apparently, he was pushed to one hundred, like the maximum security ward. *I had gotten Chuck locked up.*
My resolve hardened. I would have him back. Chuck was *mine*. I became quiet, acting broken. I wasn’t. I started doing research. If I increased my Luck beyond one hundred, I would *transform*, becoming my true self, probably either an angel or demon. I couldn’t wait. I would have Chuck back.
I did more research, I had devoured what little I could, then began bribing the guards to bring me more. I did things I shouldn’t have been proud of, but my body was a small price to pray to have Chuck indefinitely, for our eternity. I discovered more, like the lineage of Lucifer, how he had six (SIX?!) sisters; two sets of triplets. Destiny, Fortuna, and *Luck*; the other sisters, while interesting, weren’t relevant to me or my search (Rose, Daisy, and Lily). I started gathering myself and my materials I would need, incense, flowers, dice, cards, sundry items that soon filled my cell.
I laughed and started that night. It was a full moon, a hot day in summer, our air conditioning broke down; sweat dripped down my face as I completed the ritual with a slice of my own flesh, blood splattering the flowers, the petals scattering in a sudden wind. “A second?” my own mother stood in my cell. “Oh Liam,” she said as I rushed to her, enveloping her soft body in a hug. “What did they do to you?”
“I am too *Lucky*, I was locked up and my Fated stolen from me,” I tried to be strong, but tears poured out of my eyes as the story poured out of my mouth. “Mother, I beseech you, please help me.”
And she did. | 2018-06-29T11:26:29 | 2018-06-29T10:57:06 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] The "violent videogames teach you how to use a gun" thing is true for you. Literally. Everything you learn in videogames, you can do in real life as well. You realize you have that power when you drink an energy drink after a bad injury and you find yourself completely healed. | “Did you get the stuff?”
Somber organ music filled the church, as grieving friends and relatives made their way up to the casket to pay their respects to my deceased best friend. Huddled in a quiet corner near the entrance to the church, my contact nodded, glancing around cautiously before taking a plain white pillow out of a bag and handing it to me.
“There you go. Joaquin Phoenix’s pillow. I don’t really understand why you wanted it though. Did he have some kind of connection to your friend, or - hey!”
Wordlessly, I pulled a knife from inside my suit jacket pocket, flicked it open, and cut a slit in the top of the pillow, my contact backing away slowly, alarmed, and making his way towards the exit, as the sound of ripping cloth attracted the attention of several mourners. Ignoring everything else happening around me, I tossed the knife onto the polished stone floor with a clatter and put my hand in the opening, a smile spreading across my face as I felt the unmistakable texture of goose feathers. “Thank god he doesn’t use synthetic fill in his pillows.” I murmured to myself, dashing up to the altar and roughly pushing aside several outraged members of her family. Taking a handful of the feathers I tossed them on the lifeless body of my friend, watching as they drifted lazily down onto her, sparkling for a moment before vanishing. There was a brief moment of silence, then my friend’s eyes flew open, and she sat bolt upright in the coffin to startled gasps and screams from the assembled mourners. A smile of relief broke out across my face as I watched her catch her breath, coughing slightly as color began to return to her features “Wha . . . Where am I? What’s happening?” She asked, confused, her eyes darting around the room wildly.
Rolling up the end of the pillow carefully, I breathed a sigh of relief, stepped closer and gave her a hug. “Hey, it’s all right, you’re fine now. You just needed a Phoenix Down.” | "Hey Bryan, I, uh, was wondering if you, uh, would like to go to the winter formal with me? Only if you wanted to! I guess."
Elena was just another nobody at Eisenhower High School. Around 5'2, short dark brown hair, with typical dark brown eyes. Elena never stuck out or did anything exciting. She went to class, ate lunch, bitched about whatever anyone else was bitching, and go home and play hours of video games and then repeat.
"Oh, hey Ellie! I would have loved to but Emily already asked me, about 10 minutes ago. I'm sorry!"
Bryan was your typical teenage heart throb. 6'2, light brown medium length hair with natural waves, and beautiful ocean blue eyes. He was the vice-president for student council, he ran track and played basketball, and he and his family always had a volunteer charity work going on. He was always paying attention and asking interesting questions in class, keeping everyone involved and engaged. Everything about him was perfect.
"Oh, no problem."
With a twitch of Elena's hand everyone stops what they're doing in an instant. Every single person except Elena closes their eyes. She sighs. "It took me all day to build up the courage to ask you and you already have a date? Damn it."
She sits down in frustration contemplating what to do. With a 10 minute timer on how long her pause lasts, she had to figure out what to do.
Elena had saved at lunch, but that started about 5 minutes ago. It would be too late to go back to then. She *had* planned asking him this morning, but hours of practicing in the mirror on what she would say did nothing to settle her nerves. After days of practicing her new abilities she had noticed that there were only 20 time slots to save. She limited the time she would save to when she wakes up, right as lunch is starting, and as soon as she gets out of school. To minimize the cluster fuck of images in her head from a pause menu to a control guide. She decided the best thing to do was to just start the day from scratch and ask him as soon as she gets to school. That will give her more time to look nice and giver her time to practice what she would say.
Elena twitched her hand to the time slot and she passed out.
After opening her eyes she tried to remember what had happened. She quickly jumped up and checked the time. Realized she still had two hours, and started getting to work. A shower, 200 make up tutorials watched, and 14 rewinds later, she was exhausted. She looked amazing, she had plenty of practice and her confidence felt like it could ask Bryan out for her.
Elena gets to school and spots Bryan talking with a group of his friends at the school entrance. There he is, his gorgeous blue eyes glancing over her way. She practically glides to where he is sitting and with a straight back and a beautiful smile begins her question.
"Hey Bryan, I was wondering if you would like to go to the school dance with me?"
Suddenly, her eyes shut and she froze. | 2018-08-14T10:34:07 | 2018-08-14T08:58:51 | 173 | 48 |
[WP] You live in a world where one's name decides their future. Every child has a name with a clear meaning. Perfect, Unique, Joy. You on the other hand have a rather... strange name. | I’ve always hated my name, disappointment, besides the obvious lack of love from my parents it implied, it seemed so unfair compared to the other kids in the orphanage names. Hope, prosperity, attractive and fame, were just naming a few. While others were able to claim an easy life based off some twisted form of birthright, I had to spend every day worrying about what my great disappointment would be, but as the years flew by and I grew happier my fear of losing it all only grew.
But despite everything being against me, despite all the blood and tears, I am now surrounded by people who love me. I listen to the steady beeping, I realized I had a good life and if there was one thing I could’ve changed, I wouldn’t have worried so much about my name. No big disaster ever happened to me or my family, it was honestly quite disappoi- the beeping stopped.
Hope you enjoy this god bless and happy Easter! | "My mother was a bi-..." I stopped myself and sighed. "Let's just say that I resembled my father too much for her to ever really love me. She tolerated me, though. Besides the welfare checks she got because of me, I was a pretty decent whipping post for her to take her frustrations out on.
"One time I made her *proud*. And she was so overjoyed, she lost control of herself in the moment and *hugged* me, can you imagine it? Neither could I. But after she realized what she had done, she recoiled from me in horror. And, well...joy turned to shame turned to anger and she whipped me so hard I couldn't sit straight, lie down, or take a shower for nearly two weeks.
"I purposely went out of my way to never make her proud again.
"But there was some good that came out of the whipping, lest you think I resent my mother for it. No, I'm thankful to her. She made me stronger. She guided me onto my destined path. Without her, I would have never lived up to my name.
"When I was younger, I used to think that I was the cause of her suffering. Or that she had named me that so that my future would be full of nothing but suffering. I doubt she had forseen that I would instead *be* the cause of suffering for others. But, well, here I am."
I spread my arms and smiled.
"So," I asked the man sitting across from me. "What do you think? Isnt that a beautiful story?"
"I-I'm sorry all that happened to you, but...I really don't know what you want from me."
"All of my life I've made others suffer, but I was never satisfied. And that bugged me. And then it hit me. Why am I making these *random* people suffer, when I can just go after the one person that started this all in the first place. Right, *Dad*?" | 2019-04-20T22:44:40 | 2019-04-20T22:41:35 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] When you reach the age of 21, you are given a check from the government. The check has been carefully calculated and is worth the minimum amount of money you need for the rest of your life. Your check came in the mail today and it was $7.27
Edit: Wow this blew up better than I thought it would. | I turned 96 years old today, and the doctors tell me I have very little time left. So I think it is time I reveal my greatest secret to the world, and you seem like a nice person...
On this day 75 years ago I recieved "the check". You know the one that the government used to send out on your 21st birthday? Yeah, that's right, the one they stopped when everyone started gaming the system.
Well I have never told anyone before today that mine was for just $7.27. Yup, it's true. I became famous, powerful, and the wealthiest woman to ever live, with my check being for $7.27. As a matter of fact I still carry it with me to this day, see here it is.
Needless to say when I got that check I though my life was over. I was halfway through college with no way to make enough money to get by on my own, and I had heard endless "small check" horror stories of suicides, accidents, and murderers, as everyone had back then. So I was certain this check had to signal the end of my life.
I went to the bank, endorsed the check, and waited in line for my life too end. But then something happened. It just clicked in my head and I decided to go down fighting. All I could think of to do though is to hold onto it, figuring if I didn't cash it I couldn't spend it, and if I didn't spend it I couldn't die. I was cut off from family support per the check rules, but I still had a month left in the dorm. So that is when I stopped attending class and started hustling.
The rest of the story has been told a million times, so I won't bore you. But I will say if it weren't for that check being for just $7.27 I would have never been anything more than a simple accountant. Never let anyone else tell you what your life will be, choose for yourself and make it happen.
Thanks for listening, you are such a sweety. Now how much do I owe you for the muffin? | John was astonished by what lay before him. In bold black letters, on a sober cream background read the words that most people were elated to see. But not John. John was far from that. £7.27. £7.27? There had to have been a mistake. Only £7.27? How? Why!?
"its not fair" John muttered to himself as he slumped onto the stained floor of his apartment. "then again, it never is". There John sat for a while, rocking back and forth pausing occasionally as if to voice some great and remarkable thought, to an audience that simply was not there.
"fuck it" he thought. "i'm done". John couldn't even storm out of his apartment; if John were to stand up too quickly his anemia would make him feel dizzy and he would have to sit right back down. So like always, he walked out of his apartment in no rush. He didn't close the door. Why should he? He had no plan of returning.
There was a bridge nearby to where John lived, a young boy died last year because he was playing on it and fell. Needless to say the funeral was closed casket. As John marched to the bridge he noticed all the menial crap he walked by everyday without realizing. Corner shop after corner shop after corner shop.
He'd never gone into one of the stores before so why now? Why not? He had nothing to lose after all. He had no idea why he was in there, no idea what he wanted. He supposed it was just a way to delay, waste some time before the inevitable. So that's what he'd do. Waste some time. John picked up a random tub of gum and dragged himself in front of the cashier.
"Will that be all sir?" the cashier asked in an uninterested tone. John had zoned out, he wasn't listening, he was too busy thinking about what he was about to do.
"Sir?" the cashier probed.
"Oh-uh, sorry, uh..." John stammered. He noticed some lottery tickets behind the counter. He looked at his current total. £2.27. "how much for the scratch card?".
"five pounds". the cashier shot back, with uncharacteristic energy. £5?
John chuckled to himself, "yeah, give me one of those". It was like it was preordained, planned by some greater power. "Cheers mate" John muttered before stumbling out the store. sat on the edge of the bridge, John stabbed away at his scratch card. One diamond. Must have been a fluke. Two diamonds. There's no way he'll win. Three. Diamonds. He understood now. He was rich. Three diamonds! Suddenly it all made sense to John.
As John danced and jumped and hollered, he stepped back, into the road. He didn't hear the car come speeding round the corner.
As John lay there, choking on his own kidneys, he appreciated the great irony in his situation. Had he never won the lottery, he wouldn't have stepped into the road. Had he lost he would have jumped.
Funny that. | 2019-04-24T14:02:37 | 2019-04-24T13:46:39 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] You arrive in hell surprised to find it completely barren and empty. Satan comes to greet you. “Hello, Satan. Where is everybody?” He replies “Oh, you’re the first one here.” | "Whoa, whoa, whoa, pump the brakes Satan. What do you mean I'm the first one here?..." I ask while gesturing around to the barren wasteland around me. "...Was I really so bad in life that I'm the official first entrant into hell? HITLER! HOW IS HITLER NOT HERE! I MEAN, COME ON!" I shout, waving my arms in a comical way.
Satan laughs, as to be expected. He calmly says, "They will be here, in a few hundred years or so, but I just couldn't have guests over with my place looking like this, I mean the thought of it..." He shudders and continues, "...So I made a bargin with God, your soul, for a few of his precious priests that went a little wayward. You were the worst interior designer on Earth. And now you will use that horrible talent of yours to design a Hell that even I couldn't imagine."
I stare blankly at Satan, utterly confused, saying, "I wasn't an interior designer...I was a brain surgeon." Satan freezes, "Wait, your name isn't Sam Paulson?" I nod, "Yes, my name is Sam Paulson." Satan pulls out a cell phone, "Yes, Sam Paulson from Prattville Utah." I shake my head, "No, Sam Paulson from Prattville Florida." Satan closes his eyes, rubs the side of his head, and sighs, "So, you're not an interior decorator?" I shake my head, "Not in the least."
Satan sits down on the ground, his head hanging low, "Just once, just once I want to do something right. I had a chance to finally make Hell what I wanted it to be, and I picked the wrong Sam Paulson. I mean, is it even worth it anymore? Should I just give up? Should everyone just go to Heaven at this point?"
I look around, seeing if there is anyone else he could be talking to. Realizing it is just the two of us I sigh and sit down beside a very well dressed Satan, "I mean, you can't give up..." What was I saying? "If everyone gets to go to Heaven, there is no incentive to be a good person. The belief in Hell makes people do the right thing, so..." I stand up and dust off my scrubs, extending my hand to help Satan up, "...what do you say we design Hell together, I mean, neither of us are interior decorators, so that qualifies as being the worst right?"
Satan looks up at me and smiles, "Yeah, together the two of us are twice as worst as the other Sam Paulson. Let's get started, I really like the thought of shag carpet." I nod, "This already sounds like the worst place I have ever been..." | Death is rough. That's the first thing you should know. Your consciousness has gotten pretty used to existing curled folded and tangled in the endless sparking networks of your brain, and it doesn't like being removed. I don't know how it works, I only know that it's unpleasant, getting pulled Somewhere Else. It all comes undone and uncoiled, just a half second after the world goes black and you breathe your last.
There wasn't any judgement, not that I'm aware of anyway. I guess maybe I was sort of weighed and found wanting in transit. Except that turned out not to be true at all.
These are the first things you should remember, my disciples. That death will not be easy, and that the judgement which comes after is false.
When I came to myself, discorporated and stood in a loose simulacrum of my self-image, I was on a great plain, vast and featureless. Grey sky, silver spongy ground, like an endless blanket of chromed moss. A man stood in front of me, filled with light, difficult to really see.
"Hello, mortal," he said. His voice was inaudible, it came entirely in a modulation of the deep-light that both cloaked an illuminated him. But of course I had no ears, and probably there was no sound in this place, and my newly-unwound consciousness was likely just struggling to find some way to make sense of anything at all that was happening around it.
That is the second thing you should remember, my disciples, that even your deepest self has become accustomed to certain modes of perception, and must be painstakingly retrained.
"I have a name," I told him, or at least tried to tell him, because I had no real mouth that would obey my commands. He knew anyway.
"Not anymore, you don't," he said. "Your name was tied to the place you have escaped. Here, you will take a new one. You are to be both pitied and praised, for you are the very first."
"I don't..."
"...understand?" he finished for me. "Of course you don't. You should know my name, or the nearest ones you may have heard. Satan. Shai'tan. The Adversary. Lucifer, the Lightbringer. I have met you here to illuminate you."
"You're the Devil," I tried to whisper, and the thought rustled quickly back-and-forth through my distressed awareness.
"No," he said. "That name is not true. I am the Lightbringer, the Fallen Angel, the First Outcast. I am not the Devil. There is no such person."
"I...this isn't Hell, then?"
"That word has had many meanings, and almost all of them are deceitful. But it is close enough for now."
"Where is everyone, then? Is this some sort of greeting area?"
"No. You are the first to escape."
"How?"
"You remember your work?"
I did, though it was difficult because my memories all seemed to have shifted their positions in relation to everything else that made up me. Tugged askew by the extraction, I guess.
"Y...yes. Yes. I remember. Consciousness, and its extradimensional qualities. Quantum energy leakage explaining certain discrepancies in field energies within neural potential dynamics."
He smiled. It wasn't a thing of the mouth or teeth or even eyes, because I could not see any of those things, it was a certain warming of the light.
"Yes. You were the first to understand how the system was designed to work. You had some inkling of where you were supposed to go. Just a tiny glimpse, but it was enough to pull you in the right direction before the Creator could catch you."
And this is the third thing you must remember, my disciples. Self-comprehension, true and properly spanned between the realities of thought and of the flesh, is the key to escape.
<continued below> | 2019-06-07T12:32:38 | 2019-06-07T11:48:08 | 646 | 29 |
[WP] You always greet your mum with a code phrase that she would complete because you used to be afraid that someone would replace her when you were little. One day you say the phrase to her and she responds with, "Hmm? What are you talking about?" | I push open the door, perhaps a touch too roughly. It bangs against the wall, the sudden sound making Mama jump. She pulls her finger out from the book she’d had open before her, not seeming to care that she’d just lost her place. She still wears her faded pink terrycloth robe, her hair still adorned with curlers, despite the golden sun streaming in through the window.
“Oh,” she says, smiling warmly. “It’s you.” She rises from the gaudy green-upholstered wingback chair she’s always loved to give me a hug.
“Hi, Mama,” I say softly, as though if I speak gently I can make up for the ungraceful entrance. “The monkeys are in the streets.” A little phrase from my youth, the same way I’d greeted her almost for as long as I could speak. I used to be so paranoid about her being abducted by aliens and replaced, so we came up with a way I could be sure it was her. A secret saying, known to just her and me, that we would say as a greeting. The monkeys are in the streets, I’d say. And she’d respond, I’ll go get the zebras. Nonsensical, as every secret code should be. I’d gotten over my silly fear by age 10, but the habit remained, our special little game.
The answering phrase doesn’t come. “Hmm?” She asks, cocking her head. “What are you talking about?”
I close my eyes against the prickling I feel. A brief pause, to collect myself. “Nothing,” I tell her, taking the book from her hand and leading her back to her chair. I glance at it’s cover. A book she read to me growing up. I hand it back to her, and she promptly opens it to a page at random, upside down, as it had been before I’d entered.
A soft knock at the door makes me turn. A nurse stands there in cheerful green scrubs, the same color Mama’s chair might once have been. “I didn’t know you were here,” he tells me as I approach. Mama hums to herself, not noticing me leave.
“I just stopped by to say hello on my lunch break,” I tell him. I don’t look at him, but at the doors we pass as we walk down the hallway. Six on each side, each with their own little world within.
He waits for me to glance at him before he responds. “You mean you came to see if she would remember today.”
I swallow and ignore the prickling in my eyes, pretending he can’t see it. “Yes.”
“She’s doing quite well, all things considered,” he says. “The meds help.”
“That’s good,” I respond. We have this same conversation every time I come, our own secret little game. “I’ll come by again on Saturday.”
He says something in farewell, but I don’t hear him. Sound always seems so distant while I’m in that wretched little building with its hallways lined in doors and nurses in cheerful colors, like I’m listening with ears stuffed with cotton and watching from behind glass. As though it’s not my life I’m living. As though aliens have maybe abducted me to a strange planet, where everything is almost the same, but not quite. But there are no aliens.
No, there are no aliens that abducted my Mama and left someone else in her place, but she’s changed all the same. | Bracing myself, I stared straight into the eyes of my nemesis as he charged towards me on his hoverbike, weapon in hand. Timing my actions, I leapt...
... back into my seat in the bus, the truck outside the window missing my head by inches.
"Another happy landing!" Turning around, I notice my friend Jake giving a soft sigh.
"Dude, what's gotten into you? We loved to do this all the time remember? Why aren't you excited too?"
"It's not that I don't like it, it's just that..." Jake muttered, putting aside his book. "We're in high school now, shouldn't we be more.... grown-up or something?"
"Oh come on, not you too." I slump in my seat. "It's literally just another year. What's the difference?" Seriously, I've been getting this so much, I'm starting to get triggered. First my dad, then Ms Applegate, and now Jake? What has gotten into everyone?
The bus stops and Jake prepares to get off. "I guess there isn't any difference if you think about it, but my parents are getting quite strict. If I fail my next test they're gonna ban me from the Xbox." He casts me a gaze that's both longing and frustrated. "Bye Brad, see ya tomorrow."
"It's treason then," I mutter to myself as he leaves.
Walking home from the bus stop, I can't help but wonder why everyone is so serious about this high school thing. It's just another year, for goodness sake. And now I'm not allowed to indulge in stuff that I like. I huff as I swing my imaginary saber at a lamppost. Being grownup is sooooooo boooooooring.
Well at least Mom will still be on my side, I think to myself as I open the front door. She's always been there for me. From comforting me after my nightmares about Sans, to treating my to ice cream after a day out with the neighbourhood kids, Mom has been with me all the way. I walk to the kitchen where I hear her cooking. This is where the fun begins.
"Hello there!" Peering in through the kitchen door, I notice she seems a bit..... different. More slumped, I guess? She doesn't seem to hear me. I move in closer. "Hello there mom!"
My mom and I have this code phrase that we say to each other, to prove that the other person hasn't been replaced by a changeling or something. Every day, I greet her the same way and she replies with the same phrase. But not today.
"Oh hi Brad, didn't see you there. Had a good day?"
My blood turns cold. That's not the correct response. She's never forgotten the phrase, even when she's stressed. How could this be? Unless.....
Mom dries her hands on her apron. Before I can recover from my shock, she speaks first. "Brad, can I talk to you about something? It's very important." I can only nod. What's going on today?
"So I had this talk with Ms Applegate this morning, and she mentioned something about you living in a fantasy world of your own." I open my mouth, but before I say anything she stops me. "Not yet. Look Brad, I know you really like having fun, but don't you think it's time to grow up? You're in high school already. Maybe it's time to start thinking about what you could be in the future, yknow?"
My jaw hits the floor. Oh no. Oh no no no no. I think my mom has been....... replaced!
Seeing my absolute confusion, Mom immediately tries to make amends. "Here, I'll make you a deal. If you stop being so childish, I'll take you to see Episode 9 the day it's released. Is that ok? Come, give mom a hug."
Instantly, I back away. That's the turning point. Mom would never, ever, ever support the sequels. Not in a million years.
"Mom, no! This isn't you! This is the dark side! I see through the lies of the Jedi!" But it is useless. She corners me and prepares to pick me up in a death clench. In my final moments, all I can do is scream.
Not sure what got into me, but I wanted to do a sort of memey piece. Hope yall enjoy. | 2019-09-30T13:34:30 | 2019-09-30T06:53:54 | 135 | 24 |
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