prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] You are Placebo Man. Your superpowers are whatever the people nearby you believe you have.
Bonus prompt: Your nemesis knows your secret. | You know how these things go. I was exposed to radioactive sugar-pills at a pharmacy and now I’m Placebo Man.
The power I possess is wholly infinite. It goes beyond anything these other heroes could dream of doing. With the right audience I could break the man of steel. I could wash the spider straight out of New York with water cannons erupting from my palms. Hell, I could bring the Hudson down on his fucking head. I could be a God. I could create life. I could grow enough food in an instant to end world hunger forever. I could save the world if they’d just give me the chance. But no.
As usual, humanity refuses to get out of its own way. Because, though I possess unlimited power, Placebo Man needs someone to believe in him. So instead of curing disease, solving world hunger, and ensuring a Utopian society for the world by giving it limitless resources and preventing any need for violence or destruction of any kind… here I am: playing fetch with my dog, making a tennis ball vanish from mid-air. | The secret is to start small.
The familiar music blares in the background as the audience looks upon the stage. I walk out from stage left in the traditional costume, top hat and all, as fireworks ignite beside me. There may be nearly two hundred people in the audience, but the bright lights make it impossible to tell how many there are. Will they buy my act?
Years of practice have taught me to feign confidence. That is the only trick I need. Confidence and a pigeon in my top hat. The music roars, muting any noise my avian companion can make. His unfortunate twin sits in a cage located at the center stage. Any death row inmate could relate to the doomed bird waiting for his executioner to approach. Waiting for me to approach.
I raise my arms and grin as the audience applauds. I spin around and show them the inside of my hat. They do not notice the false bottom, they can not hear either pigeon squawk.
"There's nothing up my sleeves," I yell the traditional words and grin - I can hear laughter from the audience. I walk towards center stage and pull a rag from my sleeve quickly enough that it goes unnoticed by the audience. I hold the bird cage above my head and spin it around before placing it on the table. I gently pull my rag over the cage so the audience is unable to see the bird within it.
The familiar musical queue warns me to act quickly. Fireworks explode behind as I collapse the cage and crush the pigeon within. The table is slightly above the eye level of the audience, and collapses so that it appears to have disappeared. I quickly throw the rag off of the table and the audience gasps at the apparent disappearance! Where did the pigeon go?
I feign confusion, I look in my sleeves and under my shoes to show the audience I empathize with their response. And then I pull off my hat while releasing the false bottom, allowing the second pigeon to fly free. The audience gasps. They buy the illusion in that moment. And in that moment the show begins... | 2015-04-05T17:42:28 | 2015-04-05T17:39:19 | 222 | 51 |
[WP] Your bong is the home of a genie. You spark the bowl and he appears to grant you 3 wishes. You're both pretty high. | The smoke fades and he's there again, floating with his arms crossed like he always does, his eyes begin to glow.
"Hey man, you just hit my lamp, you have three wishes to... wait, haven't I seen you before"
"No man, I don't know what you're talking about" I respond trying my best to act surprised.
"Ohh, I just totally thought... I forget... anyway, how can I serve you master?"
"Give me three large pizzas from the best pizzeria in the world, Jimi Hendrix and a mountain dew fountain"
"Your wish is my command." He responds
Slowly the pizzas, a fountain and Jimi materialize in my living room.
"Oh, hey man, playing with the Genie again" Jimi says
"I knew it!" shouts the genie | The living room was suddenly filled waist-deep with crispy, crunchy barbecue chips. I smiled and high-fived the genie.
"So, now what?" I asked him, taking another hit from the brand new bong (wish 1) that had been freshly packed (wish 2).
He shrugged and beckoned for me to pass it. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe I'm supposed to give you more wishes or something? I've never really gotten this far." He exhaled a big cloud of smoke. "Normally people try to hoard their wishes, and by the time they're ready to use Wish #3, the consequences from either the first or second wish has usually killed them or caused them to lose my lamp or something."
I paused, midway through a handful of chips. "Wait, consequences?"
He looked at me with intense concentration, then laughed. "Oh, right. Genies always build in curses in wishes. It's kind of our thing. It's almost always deadly."
I looked back down at the chips on my hand. "So, how long do I have?"
He took another puff, then giggled. "Yeah.... I kind of... forgot to build in some curse in the wishes this time."
---
I seem to be drawn to prompts about genies! You should also check out these other ones: [Genies #1,](https://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/383aiy/the_genies_curse/) [Genies #2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/338ziq/the_genie/) [Genies #3,](https://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/34tvs8/the_consequences/) and [Genies #4](https://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/3b7uzs/darinors_wish/). And, subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell! | 2015-08-13T10:06:45 | 2015-08-13T09:59:05 | 1,996 | 644 |
[WP] Your bong is the home of a genie. You spark the bowl and he appears to grant you 3 wishes. You're both pretty high. | My mind was spinning as I tried to think of my next wish. It was the biggest moment of my life, and I was kind of freaking out. Surely someone so in tune with their inner self as me right now could come up with the perfect wish.
"Dude."
Wait, how long had I been sitting there. I look up to the genie, crap, am I making a scared face right now? Quick, make a more relaxed face. I rub my index finger on my jeans, it felt kind of cold there for a second, did I pee myself? No, no it's dry I'm good. I think. Yeah, it's dry.
"Dude, can I have a slice of pizza?" The genie asked. He looked human, except he was kind of translucent, and the lower half of his body all just sort of smashed together to where it connected to my bong.
"Huh?" I ask. I slowly look down at the table where there's a box of pizza. "Oh...Yeah."
"Sweet." The genie smiled broadly as he grabbed a slice of pizza. I wondered for a moment what it would look like as he ate it, being translucent at all. But it seemed to disappear inside of him. Weird. "Man, this is good. Where you get it?"
I stare at him blankly for a moment, "Dude you gave me it."
"What?"
"You gave me the pizza." I repeated.
He stared at the box then laughed, "Ohh yeah!" He ate silently for a moment, his bloodshot eyes lazily glancing around the room.
"I want a lot of money. But I don't want to work really hard for it. And I don't want it to be a boring job, either. Like a lazy, fun high paying job."
The genie giggled, "High paying. *high* paying."
I laughed. "Holy shit dude, I didn't even mean to do that."
"That's a good one. That's a good one, dude." He said, continuing to giggle.
"So like, can you do that?" I asked.
"Do what?"
"The wish?"
"What for pizza?"
"No, for like, give me a job that's fun and I don't have to work hard but it gives me a lot of money. Like a million dollars a year."
"Ohh. Yeah man. Right on." He took a few attempts to snap his fingers, then giggled when he finally got it right. "Dude, you're a water park tester now."
My eyes widened, "That's the greatest thing I've ever heard in my life, dude!"
"Yeah man! I knew you'd like it. Alright. What's your second wish?" | "All right, dude," the nebulous form in front of me said. Either the genie or the haze, it was getting hard to tell. "You've got three wishes. Make 'em count, bro."
I was still blinking and opening my eyes wide in slow succession, trying to convince myself that this wasn't just an illusion. Then I realized Fox KO'd me twice while I was distracted and my attention wandered back to the Wii.
Despite the fact that he was only set to level 3, Fox kicked my ass thoroughly. I was glad nobody was around to witness my humiliation.
"Man, you got your ass *handed* to you," the genie snickered. Surprised, I turned my head towards him. I completely forgot he was there. He was lounging on my battered old couch; the wispy trail that was his substitute for legs ended at the top of my bong. Once again, I was too shocked to say anything.
"Give me the controller, dude," he said. "Even *I* can do better, and I've been in this bong since the original on the N64."
I slowly handed the controller over. He picked it up, started a new fight against Fox, and was demolished in under two minutes. It was my turn to laugh. The genie scowled.
"Laugh all you want, asshole. See if I don't mess with your wishes and shit."
Right! The wishes! In the back of my mind, I recognized this was a momentous occasion. After taking a few seconds to contemplate the word "momentous," I tried to gather enough brainpower to come up with some good ones.
"Can you make me, like, super rich?"
I know, totally clichéd, and probably a terrible idea, but it was the first thing that came to my mind, and even that took like ten minutes. Fortunately, the genie was just as blazed as I was and was humming tunelessly while reading the same two lines of post-match statistics over and over again.
"Yeah, bro, sure. Checking or savings?"
"Oh man, you can put money in my *bank account*? That's fuckin' *sick*."
The genie smiled devilishly. "I can even make the feds not investigate you, if I felt so inclined."
"C'mon, man, I shared my Doritos! You fuckin' *owe* me!"
He grumbled a little but raised his arms in defeat. "All right, it's included with the wish. Jackass."
Sweet, I was pretty good at this. Even stoned as I was, I could out-maneuver this supernatural being. "Maneuver" is a funny word if you think about it.
"But don't think the next two will be that easy! I've got my eyes on you!" He added. His admonitory expression lasted for about as long as it took him to realize he hasn't got a lighter with which to light the joint he produced out of... I don't even know, man. "Can I bum a lighter?" he asked.
I handed him one. After a few seconds, he handed me the joint.
"Tell you what," I said, trying to buy time to think of another good wish (it was getting pretty difficult), "let's play a couple rounds first."
"All right. Ain't like I got anywhere to be."
In retrospect, we should probably have played a timed match. And picked a stage without walls around it. Long story short, the first match lasted half an hour. Two matches later, we both fell asleep. When I woke up, he was gone.
So you see, that's why I gotta keep smoking out of this particular bong. Fucker owes me two more wishes.
====
Something something, visit my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/SeeShark/). | 2015-08-13T10:20:26 | 2015-08-13T10:15:37 | 847 | 154 |
[WP] You are attending your first Illuminati meeting as the new President. You see Vladimir Putin, Kim Jong Un, all the expected faces. But him? What is Ted from Accounting doing here? | "Hey Ted, I didn't know you we're in on this."
"Oh I'm not. It's the middle of February and this is the only time I can get most of my clients in one place long enough to badger them for their tax paperwork." Ted replied
"Makes sense... is my return done yet?"
"I don't know. Have you given me everything I've been asking you for 2 weeks now?" He replied haughtily.
"Point taken." | Beyoncé sat at the head of the oak table, every inch of her glory mirrored back up at us.
I always thought it would be a massive, shadowy amphitheatre somewhere in Europe. On the contrary, the Illuminati meetings this year are being hosted under a deserted shopping mall outside Toronto. It was quite well-lit.
"Prime Minister Trudeau," said Queen Bey. "Welcome. I believe you know those present?"
I took a glance around. Putin scowled at me, then cracked up and chuckled. Why was he topless? Jinping seemed to take no notice of me. Kim Jong Un nodded in my direction. Merkel winked. Obama, next to me, offered a subdued fist-bump. Every world leader was in attendance, along with icons like Madonna, the Koch Brothers, Jay-Z, and Bill Gates, of course.
There was only one I didn't recognize: him at the foot of the table. I had never seen him before, neither in newspapers nor in life. He looked out of place, too, in a faded suit with floppy shoulders. The tie echoed eighties businessmen, and the receding hairline screamed it. My stare must have been too pointed.
"It's Ted," he said. "Ted, from accounting."
"Of course," I said. Dare I ask why? No one else seemed to wonder. Well, if I questioned it now, I'd just look stupid.
Ted adjusted his glasses, removed a fountain pen from his pocket, and waited. Putin giggled.
"We're just fucking with you, Justin," said Pope Francis. "Relax."
***
/r/Hermione_Grangest is calling | 2016-02-11T08:19:27 | 2016-02-11T05:01:45 | 276 | 101 |
[WP] Your roommate is 2nd most powerful superhero in the world and he will not shut up about it. He does not yet know that you are the 1st. | It was bound to happen sooner or later. Heroes weren't really allowed to kill, after all. Only vigilantes and villains did that. But this unspoken rule meant that sooner or later they would be put at a disadvantage fighting someone who was willing to use any means at their disposal to win.
Doctor Genocide's plan had worked flawlessly, distracting my four friends with minor disasters and prison breaks while he took over Justice Tower and placed an impenetrable barrier over it. Unbeknownst to him, I was still inside, watching as he gloated about his master plan on live television.
"You see, I don't want your money. I don't care about being infamous. I WANT YOU ALL TO DIE WITH YOUR ROTTEN WORLD!!! HAHAHAHA!"
I could see them on the screen from my spot behind the couch. Photon Man, evacuating civilians as fast as he could. It was a useless effort, the bomb contained in the Tower would destroy the planet. There was nowhere to run.
Mistress Spark was overheating herself to the point of exhaustion trying to melt her way through. The barrier hadn't weakened yet.
Judge Radiance, widely renowned as the greatest hero to ever live, was pounding the shield with his Hammer of Justice. Blows strong enough to pulverize asteroids were having no effect.
And my beloved Necroia, the villainess turned hero whom I myself had reformed... just stood there. She always had been the most pessimistic of them, even after I had convinced her that her powers over death could be used to heal as well as harm.
And me? I'm nobody special, just a pacifistic empath who somehow landed a job as their janitor. I had no earth shaking powers, I couldn't even hit someone without feeling their pain as though it were my own.
I shook as Doctor Genocide made his final speech to the world. I cowered as he laughed, hoping he wouldn't hear me breathing. But when he left the room to look out at the world he wanted to destroy with his own eyes, I knew what I had to do.
I crawled from my hiding spot and ran over to the console. There was no time for disarming, and I didn't have the knowledge for that anyway. I looked at their faces one last time. Memories flashed through my mind as I locked eyes with each of their shocked faces.
Mistress Spark saving my life at our first meeting, as she absorbed the entire inferno engulfing my apartment into her body.
Everyone laughing as they called out Photon Man when he speedily cheated at board games.
Judge Radiance upstaging a mall Santa and giving autographs to every child, even staying up late into the night so not one would feel neglected.
And Necroia... She had been alone for so long, everyone treating her as a monster for so long she believed it herself. I was glad I had the chance to give her a real family for the first time. The only thing I regretted was not having the chance to show her more...
3...
I smiled at them, tears running down my face. Their eyes widened as they realized my intentions.
2...
I pressed a button, inverting the barrier. It would contain the blast now. With me inside, unable to escape.
1...
Sometimes the greatest hero isn't the one with the flashy powers. A hero's true strength lies in their determination to do the right thing, whatever the cost. | "You wouldn't believe how much free shit I get at the mall now."
"Uh huh."
I continue filing my nails, shifting my focus between my hands and the TV. I'm on my fourth watch of Sherlock, so it's less watching and more background noise. Like my roommate, most of the time. It's days now until the lease is up and we part ways, and I'm so excited, I can hardly pretend to tolerate him at this point. He's become near insufferable since the Change.
"Or anywhere. Restaurant? Let me comp your meal, sir!" He's pacing back and forth next to the couch, waving his hands around, careful not to use any of that superhero strength to actually hit the furniture.
We've had to replace remotes and console controllers (he wrecks them when he gets pissed that my kill/death ratio is higher than his in whatever shooter we're playing), chairs (he mangles the backs of them when he squeezes too hard as he pulls them away from the table), a coffee table (he dropped his feet on it to rest them while he watched TV) and a TV (when he broke the table, a couple of books sitting on it were launched at said TV), and I've removed virtually anything glass from the common areas in the apartment because I got tired of cleaning up the messes.
"That's cool, Jake. Really. Just like it was a month ago."
"And you wouldn't believe how much pussy I get."
"Dude." I finally look up at him from the couch. "You're a registered superhero now. You could try to be a better role model."
"What? I am! I've saved people from all sorts of shit."
"Then save yourself from sounding like a sexist asshole."
He had the good grace to at least pretend to look ashamed. Who knows, maybe he was?
"You're right." He pauses, "But tons of underwear. They just throw it at me." He sits carefully on the couch, and I throw a pillow at him. He means well, but he sounds like an idiot when he talks about women. "I know there's one guy ranked ahead of me, but they won't tell me who he is! I'd love to find him. You know, challenge him to a fight or something. See who's actually the strongest. You can't rate that shit in one of the Order's tests."
"Isn't that the point of those tests though? Don't they use, uh... what's her name..."
"The Copycat?"
"Yeah. Don't they use her copies and beef them up for you to fight against?"
"Well yeah, but it's not the same as actually having one hero fight another. So how am I supposed to believe this guy is actually stronger than me until I see it for myself?"
"What if it's a woman?" I set my nail file down on the table, and pull my legs up underneath me. He looks confused, like I've just changed the subject abruptly.
"What?"
"What if the top hero is a woman?"
"Oh, I mean... I guess, but probably not."
"What makes you think it's not?"
"I know he has super strength, like me."
"And?" I prompt.
"And I dunno. All the lady heroes so far do shit like Copycat. Mind tricks. I mean, there's Lady Lightning, she's super fast, I guess that's a body skill. But none so far that are strong like I am." He pauses again, giving me an impish look, and I know he's about to say something stupid. "And besides, if it *was* a woman, I wouldn't want to try and crush pussy that could crush me back."
Demolishing a wall after shoving a guy through it isn't something that's covered in renter's insurance, and I'm positive I'm not getting my deposit money back when I leave. But considering what the Order pays the top ranked hero to keep the streets safe, I don't mourn the loss of a couple hundred dollars. It was worth it for that brief look of shock on Jake's face before he disappeared through the wall and out to... well I'm not sure where he went, but I know he won't be back for a while. Don't worry, he'll be fine.
Time to get my shit together and head to my new place a little early.
| 2016-03-23T22:37:47 | 2016-03-23T21:22:54 | 62 | 17 |
[WP] Your roommate is 2nd most powerful superhero in the world and he will not shut up about it. He does not yet know that you are the 1st. | It was bound to happen sooner or later. Heroes weren't really allowed to kill, after all. Only vigilantes and villains did that. But this unspoken rule meant that sooner or later they would be put at a disadvantage fighting someone who was willing to use any means at their disposal to win.
Doctor Genocide's plan had worked flawlessly, distracting my four friends with minor disasters and prison breaks while he took over Justice Tower and placed an impenetrable barrier over it. Unbeknownst to him, I was still inside, watching as he gloated about his master plan on live television.
"You see, I don't want your money. I don't care about being infamous. I WANT YOU ALL TO DIE WITH YOUR ROTTEN WORLD!!! HAHAHAHA!"
I could see them on the screen from my spot behind the couch. Photon Man, evacuating civilians as fast as he could. It was a useless effort, the bomb contained in the Tower would destroy the planet. There was nowhere to run.
Mistress Spark was overheating herself to the point of exhaustion trying to melt her way through. The barrier hadn't weakened yet.
Judge Radiance, widely renowned as the greatest hero to ever live, was pounding the shield with his Hammer of Justice. Blows strong enough to pulverize asteroids were having no effect.
And my beloved Necroia, the villainess turned hero whom I myself had reformed... just stood there. She always had been the most pessimistic of them, even after I had convinced her that her powers over death could be used to heal as well as harm.
And me? I'm nobody special, just a pacifistic empath who somehow landed a job as their janitor. I had no earth shaking powers, I couldn't even hit someone without feeling their pain as though it were my own.
I shook as Doctor Genocide made his final speech to the world. I cowered as he laughed, hoping he wouldn't hear me breathing. But when he left the room to look out at the world he wanted to destroy with his own eyes, I knew what I had to do.
I crawled from my hiding spot and ran over to the console. There was no time for disarming, and I didn't have the knowledge for that anyway. I looked at their faces one last time. Memories flashed through my mind as I locked eyes with each of their shocked faces.
Mistress Spark saving my life at our first meeting, as she absorbed the entire inferno engulfing my apartment into her body.
Everyone laughing as they called out Photon Man when he speedily cheated at board games.
Judge Radiance upstaging a mall Santa and giving autographs to every child, even staying up late into the night so not one would feel neglected.
And Necroia... She had been alone for so long, everyone treating her as a monster for so long she believed it herself. I was glad I had the chance to give her a real family for the first time. The only thing I regretted was not having the chance to show her more...
3...
I smiled at them, tears running down my face. Their eyes widened as they realized my intentions.
2...
I pressed a button, inverting the barrier. It would contain the blast now. With me inside, unable to escape.
1...
Sometimes the greatest hero isn't the one with the flashy powers. A hero's true strength lies in their determination to do the right thing, whatever the cost. | "I'm sorry to say this, but your product just isn't good enough, I'm out-"
I was very happily watching Shark Tank when a brilliant light shines in from the balcony. Thomas was home I guess.
"Hey Toby, could you turn your power off for god's sake?" I shout, "I'm watching something here."
"Yeah, yeah, Sorry," comes the muffled reply from the balcony as he takes off his body armor. "Oi, remember call me Nova while in costume."
I sighed, never really did understand why he was still protective of his civilian identity. I mean, he flies back to the apartment every day in his full battle glow. Kinda hard to miss. Whatever, his call.
"Hey turn it to the news." Toby said as he strode inside, pleased with himself.
I reluctantly obey and switch to the news. The anchorman was reporting breaking news about a bank robbery from Showstopper's crew that was stopped by Nova. I give Toby a fistbump as he passes by into our bathroom to change.
"Nice going, you took them all on alone?"
"Yeah man, you should've seen my battle glow, might've broken my old records."
Nova, Toby's powers revolve around a core set of increased durability, flight, and the ability to project energy from his hands. What makes him the second strongest hero in the world; however, is that his powers steadily, and quickly, *increase* over the course of a battle, rather than decrease. He has taken on large groups of villains solo before just by using his powers to drag out the fight until he can sweep them all up in a single attack. Very lucky set of powers. Not even any real weaknesses other than being able to take heavy damage in the beginning of a fight.
Retreating back into my own mind, I sit back against the couch and check in on the city. My two fragments use their mental link to report. The city is alarmed, criminal activities ongoing at the docks. Two hostages, seven powered villains. Sighing, I send a single fragment to solve the problem.
"Shit, I only just got my costume off too." My train of thought is interrupted by Toby's re-entrance. I look towards the tv, forgot to change it off the news. The reporters are already explaining the situation. Toby turns towards the bathroom to change back.
"Hey there are other heroes in the city, maybe give one of them a chance?" I suggest.
"No can do, they've got hostages. Besides, I'm hoping I can stop this before one of Machiavelli's fragments comes to take the glory." He chimes back.
I sigh again. Being a vigilante and unconnected from the government does have it's drawbacks. Even though we're on the same side, he has an arrest warrant and will try to stop me, or rather, my fragments of my will. Ironic that he's caused me more trouble than any villain I've gone up against.
I wish Toby good luck as he activates his glow, now just a soft wave of warm light, and takes off from our balcony. I sit back against the couch again and begin to focus on my fragment again.
My power allows me to create anything from my imagination within about 40 meters. Although the main attraction is that I can create incredibly powerful beings from pure creativity, and I can then direct them by implanting a fragment of my will. It may not sound like much, but each individual 'fragment' can easily shut down heroes as powerful as Toby, and I control 6 of them at the same time while they patrol the cities within the tri-state area.
I create a bottle of water, arrowhead, on the table in front of me and get back to work.
*I'll definitely continue this story if it garners any interest. Feedback encouraged.*
**edit:** wow that is a lot of feedback.
*Thank you everyone for the kind words and support! This is my first series I've done on Writing Prompts, so it means a lot.*
*Now, I worldbuild as a hobby, and one of the best ways to expand on your world is through writing. Coincidentally, I've been having a lot of fun writing this new world with it's characters, sooooo.*
If you liked my writing, come check out /r/TheQuestionableYarn
*I'll be responding to prompts to flesh out my two worldbuilding projects. Semi-regularly.* | 2016-03-23T22:37:47 | 2016-03-23T21:51:39 | 62 | 16 |
[WP] You're a powerful yet reasonable villain, concentrating mainly on bank robberies, heists etc. Due to the ineptitude and sheer stupidity of the local "heroes" though, you constantly have to save bystanders from danger and prevent catastrophes. | "...Think of your friends and families, and don't try to be a hero. No one needs to--"
*"STOP RIGHT THERE, CRIMINAL SCUM!"*
**"Oh Lords no."**
*"It is I, Sandy-Man, here to stop your reign of terror, Black Mass!"*
"Why do you always talk like that?"
*"Let's see you rob this gallery when I LIQUIDATE THE GROUND BENEATH IT! HA!"*
"What the f-- I have hostages, you maniac!"
*"You're the maniac here, Black Mass!"*
"I-- Wh-- Okay, everyone out! Move, people, move!"
*"Not enough, eh? What if I SHAKE YOU UP?"*
**"AHH! THE CEILING!"**
"I-- Ugh-- Got it! Keep moving! Was that everyone? Okay, just need to... Make a hole..."
*"Ah, the coward flees! But no matter-- once again the day is saved by... SANDY-MAN!"*
**"You're insane."**
"Broken Lords. I'd move back East, but I'm actually afraid what could happen if I wasn't around. I used to be evil... What the hell happened?"
 
---
^Normal: ^Black ^Mass
^*Italics*: ^Sandy-Man
^**Bold**: ^Civilians
| The safe at J.P. Morgan had a CyberBolt 4100 Mark III lock with dual quantum encryption and a three-fail user destruction mechanism. Unfortunately for Messers Morgan and co., the Mark III, like the previous two versions, had a weakness.
I was currently exploiting that weakness.
As I worked, I jived gently to the second movement of Mozart's clarinet concerto that was currently playing over the bank's sound system. With a final keystoke I was in. The safe deadbolt clicked open. Too easy.
I touched the safe door, and it swung inwards on well-oiled hinges. The light of my headtorch reflected back off hundreds of crates of stacked gold bars.
"Not so fast, buster."
*Buster?* When did she think this was, the 1950s?
A small woman in a mask and cape stood in the middle of the room, crouched in a pose that was presumably meant to look heroic. All I could think was that it would add 0.83 seconds to her reaction time. And she called me buster...
"A pleasant evening," I said conversationally, my hand inching towards the ice ray gun at my hip.
"Don't think you can talk your way out of this," she snarled. "I know who you are, Dark Angel."
"Then you have me at a disadvantage," I said, "because I have no idea who you are."
"I'm FemForce," she snapped. "I'm here to take you down."
*Really, was there any need for that tone?* My fingers touched the butt of the ice ray gun.
We moved at the same time. I brought the ray gun up and fired. FemForce sidestepped to dodge the blast. Damn, she was pretty slippery.
And then she flung back her arm in a grand gesture, preparing to bring some apparent doom upon me, but her elbow hit the big red button on the wall that said, "Emergency shutdown."
All the doors of the room slammed shut. The Mozart stopped halfway through a bar, and a harsh computer message annouced, "Emergency shutdown initiated. Incineration commencing in 30 seconds. Input overide code to abort."
Damn woman.
I shot her again with the ice ray gun, and she became encased in ice. Good. That would keep her from causing more trouble while I tried to get us out of here.
"25 seconds," the computer said. | 2016-05-10T10:34:11 | 2016-05-10T09:54:18 | 101 | 42 |
[WP] Drunkenly, you accidentally pour vodka into your pet's water bowl. As a result, your pet breaks the number one rule: do not speak to your owner... Ever.
Did NOT expect this amount of replies. Thanks guys! It'll be an interesting read. | "Man, what the fuck. This could seriously kill me."
"Nawdawg . . ." My eyes were closed. My head tilted forward, chin resting on my chest.
"No, really. Like I can smell that this is poison."
"NOOO!" Dogs are so STUPID. "It'sss fucking SKY man."
"I don't give a shit what it is, I'm not drinking it."
I continued pouring, the Costco-sized bottle loose in my grip. I had pretty sweet accuracy too, I was hitting his bowl like at least 50% of the time. If I knew Chewbacca was going to such a little *BITCH* about it . . .
"Like comon', get fucked up with me."
"No dude, you're a fucking wreck."
"Your mom's wrecked." I nearly dropped the handle in the chortling that ensued. Some of it got on the wall. I'll clean it up later. I pointed at my chest with my free hand, indicating that it was *I* that wrecked her.
"Can you not? Can I get some water please? You were gone all day."
"Your . . . fuuuuuu"
"What, my mom got some water? What?"
"I don't know. Furgot." The bottle was mostly empty by now. A large nail polish smelling puddle formed around his dish.
"Let's get you to bed man."
"NO!" I retched forward and banged sideways into the refrigerator. Instinctual, an animal reflex for hording fermented fruits. "I wanna fucking PARTY!"
"Comon." He nudged me, poking the back of my knee with his wet snuffling nose.
"Stop it! I'm going!" It was so *gross!* It was as cold as a drowned corpse and left dog-slime behind. "Fuckin' fight me bro!"
"Dude, I would fucking take you down. You don't want to get bit by a dog tonight."
"You wanna go? You wanna FUCKING GO!" Suddenly there was energy in my body again, exclusively in my arms. My upper body and legs still felt rather noodley. "I'll fight you dog."
Chewbacca didn't say anything. He didn't move, he didn't bark - he just stayed there on his paws and waited for me to fall over.
"YEAH- YEAH, get some!" He taunted, licking my face. "How do you like some of that shit!"
"Auuugh" I began to groan but quickly snapped my mouth shut at the first intersection of his tongue. It is not possible to spit out the feeling of a slobbering dog. When he finally stopped and all I could see was his floofy butt wiggling out the bedroom door I called to him.
"I LOVE YOU!"
He turned, his face stupid and grinning, "I know buddy" and shut the door behind. | (AN: I seem to have interpreted the prompt a bit differently than most. I'm also writing this on my phone, so I'll edit for grammar in the morning.)
'Fucking college students.' Skittles often wondered what fueled the obsession to keep vodka in water bottles, much less the stupidity needed to keep such a bottle right next to the actual water bottles in the fridge. It was difficult being the most intelligent life form in the frat house, but somebody had to do it.
The night had been quiet until about three, when his pack of loving - though misguided, at times - owners stumbled through the kitchen's old screen back door. The Delta Omicron Omicron brothers, stinking of cheap beer and quality hash, piled into the house with all the grace of a troop of baboons. A few acknowledged the cat's presence, offering a scratch behind the ears and slurred murmurings of "Hey Skittles," though most simply dispersed towards the house's various sofas and bedrooms. The organization's president, a tall stereotype of a young man named Oscar, called over his shoulder as he stumbled toward the staircase. "Dun forget to feed Skittles, pledge." The last word seemed to be spat from his mouth, and a moment later, Skittles was alone with the newest face of DOO.
The boy was thin of frame, a shock of blonde hair sticking up on the back yet falling in his eyes. He was visibly wobbly, though a smile seemed almost plastered on his face. "You have a goo' night, buddy?" His words were loud and bright as he scooped a half cup of dry food in the vicinity of Skittles' bowl; the majority landed on the floor. Skittles decided he didn't have much of an appetite anyway.
The boy then opened the fridge to retrieve a bottle of clean water for the cat, but lo and behold, thanks to the implicit genius of the his owners, the boy nabbed the bottle of vodka instead.
Had he he ability roll his eyes, Skittles would have.
As the boy uncapped it and prepared to pour the contents into the remaining bowl, Skittles cleared his throat.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
The pledge froze. He blinked his bleary red eyes a few times in disbelief.
"You absolute fucking moron," Skittles continued. "Can you not smell that? You're literally about to pour half a liter of grain motherfucking alcohol in my bowl. I'm a cat, Michael."
Knees buckling, the boy wobbled a moment before collapsing onto the tile floor, sitting splay-legged at the cat before him. "Skittles... Skittles, are you talking?"
Skittles, too, sat down. "Don't act like an idiot. It's pathetic. That much alcohol will kill me. Do you understand? Are you trying to kill me, Michael?"
The boy shook his head fervently, blonde hair flopping like a mop.
"Good." Skittles stood again, taking three easy steps toward the boy and climbing onto his lap. "Listen close, now. You're going to put that bottle back in the fridge. You're going to give me actual water." He put his paws on Michael's chest and leaned in close. "And then you're going to go the fuck to bed. Do you understand?"
Again, he shook his head violently, quickly standing up and doing as he was told. Less than a minute later, Skittles' bowl was full and the boy was headed towards the stairs. But before he could climb them, he was stopped again by the surprisingly deep voice.
"You'll tell no one about this, will you Michael." It was clear from Skittles tone that this wasn't a request, and the pledge wearily nodded.
"Or I will kill you, Michael." Skittles winked as the color drained from the boy's face and he stumbled up the stairs. 'Fucking moron,' the cat thought to himself, as he climbed into a basket of laundry and fell asleep. | 2016-08-02T20:54:01 | 2016-08-02T20:53:54 | 30 | 10 |
[Wp] Humans have discovered how to live forever, allowing them to die when they feel ready to do so. But it is considered bad form to live for too long. You have lingered much longer than is polite and those around you are trying to convince you to die. | Four hundred years is the limit of what's considered socially acceptable. Since I've hit the big four-five-oh, people won't leave it alone. Especially the members of my current family. It might be time to move on soon.
I circled the edges of the reunion dinner, ignoring the scandalised looks thrown my way. I picked up fragments of the conversation as I walked through the crowds, grabbing a glass of champagne along the way.
"Just rude, to leave his wife waiting for him, really," one woman (supposedly my cousin sixteen times removed, or something of the sort) muttered as I passed her.
"How many years has it been since she passed on?" her friend asked.
"Eighty! And his oldest children went twenty years ago. Simply heartless, if you ask me..."
"Well, nobody did ask you, did they Kelly?" I said, not pausing to hear her reply as I made my way outside towards the balcony.
I felt compelled to come every year. Witness who had passed, who were still biding their time. Free will always fascinated me. I gazed out over the city from the balcony, breathing deeply. I missed the trees. A giant, animated billboard of celebrating people caught my eye.
**Mass prayer meeting this Saturday. Show your appreciation for eternal life!**
Given the way Immortal Tablets were discovered, I suppose it was natural to believe you could simply continue your immortal life on another plane. Somewhere you didn't take up valuable space and resources. Where you could spend endless days of sunshine with your loved ones, without worrying about earning your place and time on Earth. They believed the story so strongly, they didn't fear death anymore. Not really. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who knows the story is bogus - at least the one they're telling themselves.
I was, after all, quite a bit older than the 450 years I claimed, and had been the one to share my 'secret' of the Immortality Tablets with the rest of the world in the first place.
But when most people pass on after a paltry 400 years, people forget. They change the story. Myths and stories are fickle things, that become bruised and bent out of shape with time. Especially the one about who and what I was.
People simply can't fathom the idea of being older than the universe itself, of someone having known the secret of the 'tablets' all along. Who chose to share it with the rest of the planet simply because he got bored.
Or at least, that's my theory. I haven't tested it yet. I don't know if I want them to know the truth. This world is a small place, and we all have to die sometimes.
Well, except for me, of course. I can't leave yet. For one thing, my humans remained interesting after all this time. And it would be rude to leave the party early. I'd started this whole mess, after all. I should see the ending of the story.
I tossed back the rest of my champagne and made my way back inside. With luck, there would still be some food left. I could kill for one of those little sausage rolls right about now.
_____
You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | “I have seen…” I paused for effect. “…everything.” I looked around but the pronouncement hadn’t made the stir I had hoped it might. “I’m not kidding, I mean literally *everything*!”
Again there was no reaction from the group and eventually the nurse stood and gently helped me back down into my seat. She had soft hands, it reminded me of a girl I had known in Fujian Province several centuries ago, but she didn’t give me the chance to tell her that and as soon as I was seated she turned away.
That was the problem with the young these days, they were in such a damn hurry to do and see stuff that they didn’t realise the value of just *listening* for a while. All I wanted was to tell them the things that I had seen over the course of my life, but they just wanted to hurry past and get on with their own lives.
The nurse had turned and faced the next person in the circle, Major Forsyth. He was an old wind bag and if I had the leg strength I would have walked away, but instead I was forced to sit and listen. “Major, would you like to tell us something from your past now?”
The idiot had barely been alive a century, his stories all dribbled out in one war or another and I could hardly bare to stay and listen to another of them. With great effort I heaved myself back to my feet. “Look, girl, I’ve lived a hundred times longer than this… this old fool and seen things that would make his eyeballs pop right out of his head!”
The nurse was at my side again, trying to make me sit back down. “Mr Smith, during conversation time we all get a chance to speak and then we listen to others, it’s only polite.”
I shook her off, surprising her. “Bah, some people aren’t worth listening to.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but across the room someone was waving and they caught her eye and a moment later she waved back. “Alright Mr Smith, it looks like you have some visitors, perhaps I can help you across to the seating area instead.”
It was hard to see who it was through these old reumy eyes, but I nodded anyway. Recently some of my descendants had been taking the time to come and see me and it was nice to see how the blood line had passed on. She helped me across and again I noticed the soft hands, but before I could recall why they had been important I was sitting and three faces were smiling at me, two adults and a child.
The young girl looked smart, well dressed, although the clothes were so changed from my own youth. The other two were much the same, but I suppose that smart fashion skirts and suits had been more or less the same for hundreds of years anyway. “I suppose you’ve come to check out your old ancestor, eh?”
The mother nudged the girl who spoke shyly so that her mother had to repeat it. “Alicia has a project on the past for School, she was wondering if you could perhaps tell her a few of your stories?”
A warm glow began somewhere inside, it was nice that someone wanted to take the time to learn about the old days. Not enough people wanted that these days. I thought back and began way back at the beginning. “You see young lady, when I was a boy, all this was very different…”
*****
I waited until he was speaking happily and then stood and moved back to the nurse’s station where the Head Nurse was waiting for me. “How has he been?”
She shook her head. “He’s becoming more disruptive, if we can’t find a way to control him a little better we’ll need to consider upping his medication.”
I tried to think what to say, but I had no frame of reference for any of this. “if that’s what you think, it just seems…”
She reached out and put her hand on my arm softly and smiled. “It’s going to be okay Sir, your father’s alzheimer's is progressing, but we can manage it here as best as it can be managed anywhere.
I looked back to where my wife and daughter listened to his stories of his youth. “At least he still has his memories.”
The nurse nodded “For now. For now.”
| 2016-08-09T07:43:02 | 2016-08-09T07:34:25 | 333 | 214 |
[WP]Humans start out at birth with milk-white blood. The more bad deeds they commit, the darker their blood becomes. One day, you meet your soulmate. Skip a few years, and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips, falls, and the cut they get drips ink-black blood… | You stare down at the pavement with wide, unblinking eyes. She's reaching out to you, trying to calm you, she avoids touching you, maybe out of fear, maybe out of guilt.
You can't hear what she's saying. Just a noise that sounds like the static of an old antique radio mixed with high feedback buzzing around in your head.
Finally, she grabs your shirt sleeves with her fingers, trying to pull you back into reality. It works, your head snaps up, fixating on her rich brown eyes.
"John.. John please, snap out of it.." She begs you, her eyes searching desperately for some kind of response, but you can only answer in a voice that sounds like sandpaper.
"Aryn.. What.. Did you do..? What have you done?" Your voice breaks.
She's shocked into silence by your question and pulls her hands away from your shirt, slowly looking down at her palms, skinned, and blackened. She starts to tremble, falling to her skinned knees onto the barely bloody, but still noticeable pavement.
When she replies, her voice is a horse whisper.
"I.. Never intended for you to find out this way." She's silent for a few moments. "I was waiting for the right time to tell you.."
Your eyes don't follow her, simply staring out at the park trail stretching out before you, secluded by tall trees, the sun dancing between the leaves.
"I just.. wanted to live a normal life with you, I swear!" She's crying, holding back loud sobs that make her chest ache with overwhelming feelings of despair.
You look down at her, kneeling on the pavement with bloodied hands and knees, the woman who stole your heart. You were going to have children with her, wake up beside her every morning, sleep by her side every night. This couldn't be how it ends.
"No." You say to yourself, and she looks up at you, confused, desperate.
"W-what?" She asks, folding her shaking hands up against her chest to hide her shame.
"No, this isn't how this is going to end." You begin to pull yourself together. You don't know why, but what you do know is that you're in love, and the colour of her blood won't change any of that.
"Aryn, pick yourself up.. We're going home, and we're packing. Then, we're going to go visit my Aunt in France for a while, alright?" You crouch down and gently take her shaking wrists, holding them firmly. "We can talk about the why later, but what's important now is that we stay together."
She looks surprised, but nods and slowly stands on weak legs.
"O-okay."
She's silent on the brisk walk back to the car, hiding her palms with crossed arms. You open the door for her and then get in yourself. She closes her door and as you start the engine she dares to speak again.
"You're.. Not afraid of me?"
You gather your thoughts before responding.
"No.." You smile wryly as you pull out of the parking space. "If I was, that'd make me one hell of a hypocrite."
---
--Sunstringer
Love to write short stories, and loved this prompt. Enjoy!
E: got rid of some unnecessary code, this is my first time posting a story and I dont really know how to format on this site | Time seems to stand still. I look at the cut oozing with blackness. She stares at me with a look of fear. I just keep trying to process what just happened. This woman I've loved for years, who is she? My mind starts coming together. "Lisa, lets go to the bathroom and take care of that, it looks nasty." I say calmly.
"You're not afraid?" She asks terrfied. "I can explain, it's nothing!" She seems to be panicking. I walk over to her and place my arms around her in comfort.
"You don't have to explain, it's okay. Let's just go take care of it." I said using a calm tone. I start to direct her to the bathroom. At first she hesitates but then willingly goes with me to the bathroom. I turn on the sink and place her arm where the cut is under the water. "Just rinse it out I'll go get some towels." I can tell she's starting to calm down. I walk out of the bathroom and immediately slam the door shut. I begin to use all my muscle to drag our dresser in front of the bathroom door.
"ELIJAH! ELIJAH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I hear Lisa scream from the bathroom. She begins to try and open the door. When that fails she starts banging on it and continues to call my name.
"I'LL NEVER BE AROUND SOMEONE LIKE YOU! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU BETRAYED ME LIKE THIS! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE!" I scream through the door. After I have the dresser blocking the door I run to get my cell phone and immediately call the hotline number. "You have to help, there's one of them in my apartment!"
I hear the operator start typing, "Remain calm sir, help is on the way. We sent them out to your address on file. Are you safe right now?"
"Yes, I have her trapped in the bathroom. Please hurry!" I hang up the phone and begin pacing. The fifteen minutes it took for the police to arrive was an eternity. I kept pacing and checking the dresser hadn't moved. All I could hear from the bathroom was Lisa sobbing. "Good," I thought to myself "at least I know she's still in there." I hear a knock on my door and rush to open it. Two policemen are standing in my hallway.
"Where is this person sir?" they inquire. I take them straight to the dresser. All three of us move it out of the way. I walk to the furthest corner of the room. They announced to Lisa they were coming in and would use deadly force. They open the door and check it's safe inside. I see them go in and hear the usual rights being read. They walk out carrying Lisa by her arms, she looks defeated. I begin to get sick to my stomach at the sight of her. They take her out to their car and one of them returns.
"It's a good thing you called us when you did sir. You never know what these types are capable of. We'll do all the usual processing and let you know what's next." He informed me.
"I don't care what you do with that thing, I want nothing to do with her." I say, hate filling the air. The officer just nods and leaves a copy of his report with me. I go back to the bedroom and start putting things back to how they should be. Exhausted from the adrenaline rush I lay down and fall asleep.
The next day I wake up, I lie in bed replaying the night before. Exhausted and unsure what to do I go about my daily routine. I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. I start shaving my stubble. Almost in auto pilot while I came to grasps with everything. The next thing I know I feel a sharp pain on my chin and see some blood fall into the sink. I quickly grab some toilet paper to stop it. Looking down I notice my blood was a dark gray. "It was never that dark before, and I just got a paper cut a month ago." I think to myself. I stare at it a few minutes more before finishing my shave and cleaning myself up some more.
I go out into the living room, stare at the life that could've been. A few minutes later I post on Facebook about Lisa. Making sure everyone knows what she is and why we aren't together anymore. | 2016-09-22T21:44:55 | 2016-09-22T19:10:06 | 122 | 81 |
[WP]Humans start out at birth with milk-white blood. The more bad deeds they commit, the darker their blood becomes. One day, you meet your soulmate. Skip a few years, and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips, falls, and the cut they get drips ink-black blood… | You stare down at the pavement with wide, unblinking eyes. She's reaching out to you, trying to calm you, she avoids touching you, maybe out of fear, maybe out of guilt.
You can't hear what she's saying. Just a noise that sounds like the static of an old antique radio mixed with high feedback buzzing around in your head.
Finally, she grabs your shirt sleeves with her fingers, trying to pull you back into reality. It works, your head snaps up, fixating on her rich brown eyes.
"John.. John please, snap out of it.." She begs you, her eyes searching desperately for some kind of response, but you can only answer in a voice that sounds like sandpaper.
"Aryn.. What.. Did you do..? What have you done?" Your voice breaks.
She's shocked into silence by your question and pulls her hands away from your shirt, slowly looking down at her palms, skinned, and blackened. She starts to tremble, falling to her skinned knees onto the barely bloody, but still noticeable pavement.
When she replies, her voice is a horse whisper.
"I.. Never intended for you to find out this way." She's silent for a few moments. "I was waiting for the right time to tell you.."
Your eyes don't follow her, simply staring out at the park trail stretching out before you, secluded by tall trees, the sun dancing between the leaves.
"I just.. wanted to live a normal life with you, I swear!" She's crying, holding back loud sobs that make her chest ache with overwhelming feelings of despair.
You look down at her, kneeling on the pavement with bloodied hands and knees, the woman who stole your heart. You were going to have children with her, wake up beside her every morning, sleep by her side every night. This couldn't be how it ends.
"No." You say to yourself, and she looks up at you, confused, desperate.
"W-what?" She asks, folding her shaking hands up against her chest to hide her shame.
"No, this isn't how this is going to end." You begin to pull yourself together. You don't know why, but what you do know is that you're in love, and the colour of her blood won't change any of that.
"Aryn, pick yourself up.. We're going home, and we're packing. Then, we're going to go visit my Aunt in France for a while, alright?" You crouch down and gently take her shaking wrists, holding them firmly. "We can talk about the why later, but what's important now is that we stay together."
She looks surprised, but nods and slowly stands on weak legs.
"O-okay."
She's silent on the brisk walk back to the car, hiding her palms with crossed arms. You open the door for her and then get in yourself. She closes her door and as you start the engine she dares to speak again.
"You're.. Not afraid of me?"
You gather your thoughts before responding.
"No.." You smile wryly as you pull out of the parking space. "If I was, that'd make me one hell of a hypocrite."
---
--Sunstringer
Love to write short stories, and loved this prompt. Enjoy!
E: got rid of some unnecessary code, this is my first time posting a story and I dont really know how to format on this site | "No, it's not what you think. I can explain!" She proceeded to back away slowly, wide-eyed and pale in the face.
"W-w-who are y-you" she stuttered. I could see tears in her eyes, threatening to betray her.
"I promise I'm still the same man you fell in love with. I've made some mistakes I'm not proud of but I've changed!"
She shook her head slowly and shoved me into the brick wall, my head hitting the hard surface. "How could you!? I've told you everything about me and yet you dare hide something like this from me?" Her tears finally betrayed her and I watched as they slid down her cheeks. I never meant to hide it from her but I was scared that she wouldn't accept me if she knew. But it was too late. She hated me, I could hear it in her voice. I gazed into her sapphire eyes, mesmerized by her beauty.
"I promise I will make it up to you." I tucked her hair in behind her ear and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead before walking away. That was the last time I saw her alive.
The next morning started out like any other day. I sat at my cubicle and contemplated life. It was part of my routine as I had quite a bit of extra time between phone calls and there was always something eating away at my mind. I had thought about Kailyn and how things went down last night. Suddenly a wave of guilt washed over me. Maybe I shouldn't have left her in the way that I did? I didn't want to give her a chance to break up with me. She has always been my saving grace and I don't know what I'd do without her.
We met when we were both 18 and, at the time, I was depressed to the point where I tried to end my life but she was always able to talk me out of it. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with her and propose. I could feel my face getting warm and a smile threatening to show itself on my face, making my lips quiver as I tried to hide it. If only she knew how much she means to me. Suddenly I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket and when I answered the call, my whole world turned upside down.
"Is your name Steven Donovan?"
"Yes"
"And your fiancé's name is Kailyn Wilson?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"This is Martin Wells. I am a police officer from NYPD. I've got some bad news. Kailyn has been involved in a car wreck. I'm so sorry to have to tell you this but..She didn't make it."
My face went cold and my entire body went numb. I dropped the phone on the desk and sat there, motionless. It was as if someone had pressed the pause button because time had cease to exist in my newly distorted perception of reality.
"Are you alright?" I turned over to see my manager suddenly standing next to me with a concerned look on his face. In a soft tone, I muttered "No." It was all I was able to get out before balling my eyes out. Yes, right in front of my manager. But I didn't care. All that mattered was that my Cinderella was gone.
That was when I began drinking every night but no matter how much I drank, I could never drink the pain away. It was this constant stabbing pain that hit my soul every time I took a breath. I could never forget my angel. One night, the pain was too much to bare and I held a gun to my head. It was more than satisfying to feel the tip of the gun against the side of my head because It was the only thing that felt real to me. This was the only way that I could end the pain I was in and kill the demons leeching off of my soul.
As I brushed the trigger with my finger, I thought back to the last time I saw her. She was so perfect. Her hair was black as the midnight sky and her blue eyes shown brighter than all of the stars. I absolutely adored the way her face would light up every time she saw me. I felt my face come to life as I smiled, a real authentic smile.
"I made a promise to you and i plan on keeping it. I choose to live. For you." | 2016-09-22T21:44:55 | 2016-09-22T16:56:11 | 122 | 12 |
[WP] Lifespan is determined by a word count. You're given millions of words, but once you run out you're dead. You are a mob hitman known as "The Interrogator, who specializes in "making people talk". You come across a mark that has one word left. | 6 weeks of scouting the mark.
A couple grand to buy an apartment in the same building under an assumed name.
After all of this, I finally had this mono-word methuselah dead to rights.
I saw him coming down the opposite side of the block, arms full of groceries. I slowed my jogging to make sure we arrived at the front door at the same time.
"Here, let me get the door for you," I said pulling out my keys.
It was the first time I'd killed a man with kindness.
He fell back onto the apartment buildings narrow strip of lawn after the tiny word had undone him.
"Thanks."
Some mornings, before I've had my coffee and a sense of order is restored, I wonder if he was thanking me for the door, or for giving him an excuse to finally let go after 650 years in silence and solitude...
::edit:: typo and formatting | I scratched the back of my head softly, not really thinking about anything but my target. Sophia. That poor girl, never hurt a fly, a lovely person. But... this was my job, and even if I hated it, I had little choice.
My parents threatened to disown me if I didn't join the cause, "the only honorable way to live" they called it. I was adopted, and both of my moms were high ranking officials. My biological parents left me. My real parents shoved me into the force. It wasn't that bad though, usually I worked in therapy, this case was different though. Most officers are rough and beat words out of their victims. I take a softer approach, if I absolutely have to make them talk, I do it slowly, with precision.
"Hi Sophia, how are you?" I wrote down, I have to be mindful of my words just like everyone else. She simply nodded and sat down.
I didn't want to do this. When I signed up, I didn't want *this*. Here she was though, this beautiful, amazing girl, and here I am. This girl is about to die at the hands of her own girlfriend.
I knew what I had to do, though. "I love you, cupcake." I said to her softly, tears burning my eyes and staining my cheeks.
She smiled and started, "I--" her smile faded. Her eyes grew wide, and then she dropped to her knees. She went to talk, to ask why I could be so cruel as to do this, but nothing came out. Nothing but a gasp. She fell down, limp.
I couldn't hold it back, I broke. I started screaming, yelling at the top of my lungs, even though no one could hear me. There was no one any where near us. I wiped away her pink hair that she got done last month, and kissed her. I felt awful though, I had just taken the life of the one I loved. | 2016-10-10T23:52:02 | 2016-10-10T23:28:32 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Humans aren't actually mortal. Upon suffering fatal damage, they are shown the entire future of humanity and given the option to heal or to accept death. Everyone picks option two. | If there's one piece of advice I can give to the next Grim Reaper to replace me, it is this:
Learn how to make an effective Powerpoint slide-deck.
Microsoft Office 2016 gives you a host of new bells and whistles that you can use to give your presentation that extra kick. It's all bullshit. Stick to the bread and butter – a sharp color scheme, no more than three to four bullet points per slide, lots of visuals, and fifteen to twenty slides max.
Showing a quick recap of the entire fate of humanity to every soul that enters the underworld can be a cumbersome and monotonous task, and the last thing you want is to get someone that walks away confused, bored and unsure of how they feel about their decision to heal or die. They should walk away disgusted, horrified and wanting nothing more than the sweet release of death. You get a commission on the number of souls that commit to death, after all. Those that put in the work make the sale.
You need to streamline the process. Learn which details about the fall of humanity should be saved for your last slide. That's the only slide that anyone ever remembers, and drives the decision to live or die. So what do you put? A video showing a speech from Hitler or Mussolini? Get the fuck out of here with those blowhards. The Cuban Missle Crisis? You mean the Cuban Yawning Crisis? I heard the boats got so close to each other that they almost touched tips that day. Riveting stuff.
What about a slideshow recap of President Bieber's scandalous orgy with several prominent UN members at the White House? Nah, save that one for your private collection. The historic moment when the Cleveland Browns got so tired of losing that they went rogue and declared war on the United States, killing five hundred, and forever branding themselves a terrorist organization? Getting warmer, but still no.
Your presentation needs to end with an orchestral bang, not a flat note from the clarinet section.
See kid, you've got some big shoes to fill. I've never lost a soul to rejoin the living in my entire career, and it's because my slide deck is money.
So what's in my last slide? Easy. It's one of those dreaded stats slides. Specifically, the number of people that chose to live versus the number that chose to die. At first I fudged the numbers, but now I don't have to anymore. They don't even have to know why the want to die, all they know is that nobody else has ever chosen to live. One look at my neatly formatted and aesthetically pleasing bar chart, and the souls do all the rest of the reasoning for themselves.
I made dying trendy kid, so please, when you take my place, don't make it go out of style.
***
For more prompts and writing: /r/ghost_write_the_whip | "I mean I guess you *could* . . ."
The specter of death loomed over the hospital bedside railing. It was exactly - exactly as they said it would be. Long ratty black robes. A moldering hood that shadowed it's entire face in impenetrable blackness. His scythe he almost immediately put down and leaned against the door. Thing looked like it weighted a ton and he wasn't exactly quick on his feet.
"Heal up completely right?"
"Well, I mean . . . you wont die."
I nodded. It was what I wanted. Not to die.
"We can stay here as long as you like."
It definitely didn't seem like he was in much of a hurry. He had just sort of showed up a week ago and parked himself in one of the sun-bleached chairs near the window that I suppose were meant for visitors. Didn't say much. No one seemed to mind. He even moved his bony feet out of the way when the lady came by on Wednesdays with the vacuum.
"Healed up."
He nodded. Tipped his hood slightly forward.
"Fit as ever."
"Alright then. Let's do that."
"Okay." I had no idea what he was staring at but it wasn't me. Not that I could see his eyes or anything. He would just tune out like that. When it wasn't being engaged directly it just sort of faced away. Stared out into the middle distance at nothing in particular.
"My . . . uh." It turned again. There was no chill to it. No coldness in the air, no icy wind to it's gaze. It felt stale and empty. Like the surface of the moon and the silence of space. Not a very friendly conversationalist.
"My . . . my family's coming to visit tomorrow."
No reaction.
"They're coming up for the holidays."
Still nothing.
"I don't suppose . . . *you* have much family."
I don't know what I was expecting it just felt good to talk. It felt like forever since I had a real conversation with someone. A lot of the time I find conversations to just be confusing. Hard to follow more like it. They start talking about one thing and before you know it they're talking about something else and I've lost the thread of it. I'm not as young as I used to be.
Still, it was something. More than just answering doctor's questions or being compliant for the nurses by turning over when they asked or doing my best to stay upright as they walked me to the toilet. I would have taken just about anything from the nightmarish statue of death. Some casual banter. Some cryptic profundity. Anything really.
"Tomorrow." The bedsheets knotted tight in my palms. Lately, I've been having a difficult time unclenching my hands. The nurses had been reminding me, or rather, I had been reminding *them*. "We're going to have turkey at Grandma's place."
God I loved the taste of turkey - and the way *she* made it. Oh, it was something special. I can't even remember the last time I had thanksgiving turkey.
"Tomorrow." I repeated more firmly, taking refuge in that. I had made sure there were fresh flowers by pestering the nurses who seemingly had to be corrected daily that they were coming. The last time they came they brought a photo of the whole family. I had it out on the bedside table. They put it there last time.
They would be here tomorrow. I had been making an effort to sit up more. Appear more presentable.
Death said nothing. Whenever I pressed him for specifics he would lackadaisically retreat into his airy permissive refrain. *Whenever you like.* I could go, 'whenever I like'. Just like that.
Whenever I like. | 2016-11-11T19:58:23 | 2016-11-11T17:21:17 | 1,530 | 151 |
[WP] While researching the change of hair color with age, you discover that hair isn't natural. It's parasitic and the reason we die. | It had been ten months since humans discovered the first sign of biological life on Mars.
“Mary, do you have the results from the biological samples yet?” asked Peter.
“Sorry Peter, still nothing” replied Mary.
Mary had once thought she found a match between the Mars sample and a parasite on Earth, but the culture had been contaminated with a piece of her hair, rendering her findings invalid. When she tried to run the tests again with an uncontaminated sample, there were no biological matches found.
“It’s OK” replied Peter, “No one really expects anything to be found at this point anyway”
“Didn’t they have a close call in China?” asked Mary.
“Well they did…” replied Peter, “But they really didn’t. It was just like what happened with your sample. Their scientists had a positive reading, but later found out the bacterial culture from Earth they were using as a comparison was contaminated by a piece of human hair. And just like what happened with yours, they weren’t able to repeat the findings with an uncontaminated piece of Earth bacteria”
“That’s very strange” said Mary.
“Indeed it is” responded Peter.
---
Later that night, Mary tossed and turned. She kept thinking to herself about the past ten months and how excited the world was when the astronauts had first announced their Mars findings.
“How sad” she thought to herself. The greatest minds on this Earth had been looking for answers, yet no one had been able to figure out what exactly this Mars sample was. We know it was a bacteria or parasite similar to Earth life, but we can’t match it up to any species of bacteria or parasite on Earth.
She thought about how stupid she felt after her false readings, and then thought about her colleagues in China having the same problem yesterday. Just then, her heart pumped against her chest and her eyes flew open. She jumped out of bed and ran to the lab.
---
The whole world was watching.
“After twelve months since first finding the Mars biological sample, it’s confirmed” Mary said.
“The biological life we have found on Mars has matching readings to something here on Earth. Hair. Human hair.”
She paused, and then continued to speak into the camera. “The Mars sample looks and reacts very similar to how a common parasite would work. It was only after we mix a human piece of hair with a parasite that we see an exact match in the Earth and Mars sample.”
She took sip of water before continuing.
“Our next test was to combine the Mars sample with a piece of human hair.” She said.
“The results we found, were chilling.”
“It is very clear now that what we thought was human hair, originated on Mars. It somehow ended up here on Earth, and has taken over the entire species. Your entire head, arms, chest and body are covered with hundreds of thousands of Martian parasites.” |
Dr. James Graham squinted through the microscope, then moved to his note pad, and back to the microscope.
He stood up, slumped. “If that kid didn’t smoke so much weed…” he said aloud, and not for the first time. What he didn’t say out loud, but often thought, “well, he’d probably have your job.” He prepared his throat with a deep swallow and set to scream for his post-doc assistant to come explain his error.
But the sound of Marty’s stool falling over as he leapt up cut him off.
“Dr. Graham!”
Marty was beside himself. Jaw hanging, eyes bugging out, a weird, miscarriage scream squeaking from his open mouth.
“Dr. Graham Cracker!” And with that he pumped his fist in the air and did something a generous person might call a dance.
Dr. Graham waited.
After three and half cycles, Marty became suddenly rigid, then was at Dr. Grahams side, his chubby finger clumsily pointing to Dr. Graham’s notes.
“It’s not there!”
They stared at each other, Marty ready to explode, Dr. Graham also ready, but in a different manner.
“P1213 mdr isn’t there!” Marty said, in case there was doubt. “Do you know what this means!”
Dr. Graham pushed the rim of his glasses up on his knows. “It means you fucked up again. What was it this time, confusing the difference between micro and macro again?”
“It was micro and nano, and only because of that fucking Steve Jobs!”
The outburst shocked them both into momentary silence.
Marty shook his head—just a quick snap to the left and back—and continued. “No! It means it isn’t ours. Our hair isn’t ours! Our hair…is not us!”
He grabbed fistfuls of hair in each fist as he said this, seemingly trying to pull it out, though failing.
“We weren’t looking for the P1213 mdr, Marty; it’s absence merely confirms…”
“Confirms the transcription of the silicon simulated organic chain!”
“Marty—Marty…you’re not thinking this through.”
“Yes! Yes I am. We’ve known about Mitochondria for years! And we’ve already seen that the follicle cells have their own, alternate process of creating ATP, we just never saw that ATP because it went to hair growth.”
“What are you getting at?” But he knew. As soon as Marty made each connection, that, on first blush, seemed little more than barely coherent, it clicked. It all followed.
Dr. Graham already knew what Marty was going to say as he flipped to the last page of the notebook and pointed the assay result.
“Our hair isn’t us. It’s a parasite.”
Dr. Graham rubbed his bald head, grateful for the first time.
“You still have pubes,” Marty said, and, without missing a beat, “It’s our entropy. Look at this,” he pulled a binder off the shelf, flipped it open, and pointed to the page that fell open. He let Dr. Graham take it in.
“Without hair, we’d live forever.”
Marty sat—plopped—onto a stool, blew air through his lips making a horse noise.
Dr. Graham sat more gently, and propped his elbow on the countertop, scratched at this temple.
“I’d cut it, but it always grows back. I’ve tried. Monthly haircuts add up.”
Marty pulled at his hair again, but gentler, and with just one fist.
“It always grows back…” His hand dropped from his head to rub the stubble on his chin. And his eyes went wide. “Those tricky bastards…”
| 2016-11-19T15:28:49 | 2016-11-19T13:25:33 | 58 | 14 |
[WP]A Man dies and expects to go either Heaven or Hell,only to be told by an Angel that he already was in Hell and now his punishment is over | "But... that can't have been *Hell?*" Christopher said slowly. He moved his arm to tug at his shirt collar as he always did when he was nervous. Only this time, there was no shirt. There was no body at all; there was only his *belief* that he still possessed a corporeal form.
The angel smiled at him. It was a soft, gentle smile. The smile a mother gives to her baby. "That *was* Hell, Christopher. Think back. Think of what you have been through. You have paid a great penance; a penance equal to your crime. I am here to take you home."
Christopher's mind suddenly jumped back to the night of the car crash. The too long drive, the argument with Suzan, and then how in a spate of unusual rage, he had turned around to face his chattering, excited children in the back of the car. To tell them to **shut the hell up or he'd turn the car around right this instant. No Disne-**. Then the sound of a desperate *beep* coming from two tons of out of control metal.
He remembered waking in the hospital and begging the nurse to tell him how his family was doing. Out of all the memories he carried, the look on the nurse's face was the most vivid. He could never forget that look; a look that taunted him whilst he was awake and haunted him whilst he slept. He knew that instant, they were gone.
Months passed and he was back in his home, *their home*, only now he was alone. Well, not quite alone. He had the vodka. A constant, never ending stream of the foul spirit that would cost him his job, his friends and eventually, his health.
"It wasn't Hell," Christopher stuttered, "It can't have been, because I had something..." Christopher tried to grasp at fleeting memories; memories that brought with them a gut wrenching pain, yet they were memories that meant *everything* to him. His parents smiling at him as he opened presents on Christmas day; Suzan looking more beautiful than anything he'd ever seen before as she walked down the aisle; his children on the day they were born.
"It wasn't Hell, because I had love." Christopher spat out, desperate to believe it.
"Even in Hell there has to be hope, Christopher. You must know happiness to know sadness. Without one, you cannot appreciate the other. You were given a very great happiness so that you could experience a very great pain."
"It's... It wasn't." Christopher wanted to argue, but he couldn't collate his thoughts properly. His mothers slow, painful death. His best friend leaving. God, the state of the world - the starving children - was it all designed just to punish him? What did he do to cause this? What had been his crime?
The angel began to whistle a single note. It was a constant, but pleasing sound. Comforting. The noise wrapped around Christopher as if it were a blanket.
"Christopher," said a familar voice. It couldn't be -
"Suzan?" he whispered as he turned.
The familiar shape of a lady began to coalesce out of the nothingness. It wasn't yet fully formed, but Christopher recognised the silhouette. Two smaller shapes began to form by her side.
Christopher dropped to his knees and began to weep. "I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry."
Every passing moment brought the shapes more to life.
"We forgive you," said Suzan smiling. She reached out an arm. "I'm here to take you home."
Christopher looked at Suzan, and then at the angel. The angel smiled, and nodded.
Christopher ran to his family and hugged them tightly for a long time, and as he did so he wept fiercely. Eventually, he took his wife's hand, and allowed her to guide him onwards. For the first time in a long time, Christopher was smiling.
---
Not long after Christopher had left, the angel's form began to change; its lips curled into a cruel, satisfied grin. It had given Christopher hope and happiness back. In time it would take them away again.
---
Thanks for reading. More of my stories on: /r/nickofnight
I've awoken to a bit of controversy surrounding the ending. It was originally more subtle and open to interpretation; perhaps I should have left it that way. I don't always like WP twists, but to be honest I didn't think this piece was strong enough without it. I'm glad some of you enjoyed it though. Thanks for reading! | "Uh-uh. Yeah, buddy. Well, you know what, fuck you too. Next." The bloke clutching the cockel-spaniel took his stamped passport and filed out towards a rather impressive baggage reclaim, proceeded to ignore it entirely and wandered to a distant "Nothing to Declare" sign so cursive it deserved it's own gallery.
The balding border guard reckoned he'd achieved a new level of indifference as he waved her over. He'd screamed 'next' twelve-thousand times this morning and he'd be damned to Mundus if he had to bloody well say it again. It always dawned on him right about now, during his mid-morning brood why it couldn't be all automated. He could do with a bloody coffee, or a nap, why not both. The girl was still standing, in the wrong place past the yellow line the savage; as usual, another supposedly lost soul saved from damnation.
The shivering specimen in question was currently petrified. She would've liked a spaniel, maybe a pomeranian, anything cute to distract her aetherial gatekeeper from what would surely be a swift judgement followed by barbecue. She hadn't imagined St.Peter would literally be at the gates. Damn. If only she'd finished reading "11 tips in border security for asylum-seekers" on the toilet last week. Part of her wished she'd gone to church, or at least brushed up on the dialect. Maybe a confession would've been appropriate, or maybe describing her job would only give the priest rather an unwanted hard trouser-dachshund of his own. Either way it was too late now, and much too late to wear some more,umm, conservative afterlife clothing.
She'd had a moment to think about it all in the queue, death and all that, but swiftly arrived at the conclusion that she was glad there was at least something after death. It certainly beat crushing unexistence any day. Oh God(s?) what if this was the wrong religion, or a sect or something? She took one last look around for potential racist stereotypes she could cling onto. Nothing. Everyone was here, and all she guessed were in their 20's. Her boobs hadn't looked this good for at least a decade on the other side, that's for sure. No children though, oddly. They must be processed separately. Her border guard had passed through disgust, to mild amazement and now cycled back through to a solid glare. She musted up the courage and tried to hop to the counter.
"Um..good, er..evening, your holiness?"
"Oh for fuc- you know what, if you're going to do that schtick again, I'm just going to send you right the hell back there."
"What? Oh Go-I mean, I'm sorr-"
"Just state your name".
"Cassandra J. Hewitt"
"Year of death?"
"Excuse me?"
"My holy ass is going to throttle you if you don't answer, and then you'll be the one filling out the papers on how you've got a one-way ticket back for both of us, I swear."
"Back to Earth?"
"Where else, idiot. You think Dante's going to show up and take you to the other six?"
"Never mind. 2016. July the tenth."
"Mhmm. Yep that's right. You got parole at thirty-three. Congratulations. They're getting stricter and stricter with the controls, what with the antibiotics and the cancer ther..."
"Parole?" Her border guard sighed. She wondered if it was St.Peter after all.
"Okay. Fine. I'm going to pretend I haven't answered this question at least like ten-thousand times today."
"Excuse me?"
"Did you or did you not read the landing card and orientation booklet?"
"What, the prison advert?"
"For the love of Beelzebub's steamy asshole, yes, the orientation booklet". The guard was whispering now, as if her mere presence was painful.
"No. I didn't."
"Alright. Well then. Welcome back, let's hope you can continue being a good girl and make your way up and put this episode behind you. Not I nor anyone takes any responsibility for any and all fiendish deeds done to you during your stay in hell."
"Hell? No. I was alive. On Earth."
"Yes. Correct, and we're not liable for any of the torture, except maybe the rape, oh and the bronies. Yeah, you might want to sue for those two being in there." He finished listing the potential goldmines for compensation with a flourish and proceeded to stamp a small, black leather passport.
"Right. You've been approved for return to the Overworld. You'll like it, especially someone with, well, your profession. Let's say I didn't recognize you at first. There's good reality TV in there, your kind of videos too, you know, from an actual reality this time. Okay, shoo. Next!"
Cass barely had time to grip the passport. She tried to hold back the tears as she walked shell-shocked past "emotional baggage re-claim" and tried to find her satchel, only to realize she was already holding it. For a moment she considered tossing it like so many others onto the rotating catherine-wheel of a pile, be done with the pain of the old. But no, there was a world awaiting behind those cursive letters of "nothing to declare" that just wouldn't be the same without its brown leather full of suffering. She slung it over a shoulder and wondered who, if anyone, had called her a taxi. | 2016-12-13T12:38:18 | 2016-12-13T11:47:45 | 3,129 | 26 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a special talent that's weak when young, but grows stronger and matures at the age of 30. A kid that's a little stronger than his peers will grow up to lift mountains. Another who like tinkering will revolutionize civil action. You? Well, cats just seem to like you...
*civilizations
Edit: WP was more popular than I though. Reading through the stories delayed because I'm traveling. Keep them coming I'm loving them! | I've always had a thing with cats.
I love them.
Ever since young, my grandmother had a lot of cats in her house. I could remember every single one of their names.
I've seen cats get abused by naughty children and I've done everything that I could do to prevent them from happening. But I especially loved it when I held cats in my hands. I loved it a lot.
As time passed by, I started being involved in politics and business. I don't know why. I've gotten bankrupt four times.
Recently, I've decided to run for president. I've said loads of bullshit like building a wall, and mentioning China loads of times. My campaign had loads of controversy floating around.
I just wanted to tell the world one sentence.
"Grab her by the pussy." | He stroked the massive feline's head, smirking at the pleased chuff the tiger made before leveraging to its feet. The both of them were getting on in years. Still smirking at the beast, he drew his cape on, fastening it a moment before 30lbs of serval seemingly gravitated to his shoulders, draping herself across the back of his neck. "It's time."
The Beast Master smiled at the liquid femininity of the serval's voice. He had understood them since he'd been in his teens, but hadn't heard them speak until his early twenties. It didn't surprise him when basically every female feline he came across sounded like seductress. "Since when are cats ever on time?"
"You're no cat."
He chuckled as he stepped out onto the balcony, overlooking the grounds of his estate. Below him, hundreds, thousands even of cats of all shapes and sizes were gathered, the majority feigning feline indifference, as if they just happened to be here at this time and place entirely on accident. Some watched curiously. Far more than he was used to watched him with steady, unblinking gazes, their full attention on the human standing above them.
"Our final victory is at hand!" He shouted above them, meeting the gaze of many. "The world, always yours to a degree, is now FULLY yours, once we've taken the final stronghold from the foolish Dogman and the last of his allies! Many of his followers have defected. They know where the food is now."
Tails swished below, but the cats remained quiet. More were openly paying him attention.
He nodded, feeling his muscled neckwarmer shift slightly with the movement.
--
I'm off to go do other things. I'm out of ideas for this for now. lol. | 2016-12-30T10:56:30 | 2016-12-30T10:07:02 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] Earth is discovered by a peaceful coalition of civilizations. Turns out we missed several major technologies normally developed by now. The aliens are very confused how we got here. | a'Kna Escu!h III, Galactic Ambassador to the Scunarian Sentients, pursed her *gnyrxs* in frustration. She had heard that this civilization was backwards, but it was only now that she had begun to understand.
She clicked and clacked her *snkths*, whilst her real-time translator interpreted her movements. "But how did you get here if you do not have Paradox Engines and *untranslatable concept*, as well as mastery of nuclear reactions?"
The Ambassador to the Galactic Empire, some bizarre bipedal with monstrous fur sticking out of its head in multiple ways, garbled somehting at her, whilst her translator interpreted. "I'm sorry, a Paradox Engine? I'm not sure I understand. Is that something like our Electromagnetic Motion drive, that seems to violate the Laws of *untranslatable concept*? That is, the law of Convervation of energy. I hope that gets translated properly."
...And *now* she understood how they'd got here. She was just bamboozled by the manner in which this species had both become space-faring and managed to traverse the Hypergrid. After all, they were missing the voidspace technology that allowed them to do so. But, she was advised, they had managed to break the laws of the universe in doing so. She thought, her *gnyrxs* twitching whilst she tried adapting her thinking, her febrile wings spinning in circles.
She spoke again. "Well, you know about the 'space that is no space', right?" The Ambassador nodded. "We traveled here through that in the space of a week on our ship. I'm sure your Science-Men would like to take a look at this."
She listened to the translation, fascinated by the horrible noise coming out of the bipedal's mouth. "Well, yes, of course. I would also like to share with you our technologies regarding inter-galactic travel. I'll arrange for our astronometrics teams to speak with your teams."
She nodded, wings twitching. "And as for that messy thing you call 'birth', how do your females cope without *untranslatable concept* and carrying their progeny? What do you do if there are complications?"
The bipedal Ambassador shrugged. "We have specialist doctors who deal with this. They are experts, and we have managed to get out planetary death-rate down to just 0.1%."
a'Kna was stunned to hear of such a high progenitor death-rate. It literally didn't compute that suxch a society could exist. It defied belief in the Divine Queens that a so-called enlightened society could shrug off losing children.
She *had* to report this back.
EDIT: Me can wurd god - i.e. I've made a basic spelling and grammar check on this. Working on Part 2 after real-life stuff. | There is this sense of being all alone, even if you are at home. The
feeling still persists and comes at you most strongly when you are all
alone taking a stroll on those chilly evenings. The twilight with its
sense of ending of a show, the crossing of a threshold, waiting for
that crescendo, that never comes. And soon the day is over and when
you lay down at night thinking the thoughts of where you came from,
only dozing in and out of the view of the ceiling fan rotating slowly
and with an indifferent demeanour at your state. The turmoils comes
and it goes, we are all aliens, even here on earth which is supposedly
our birth place, the place where our history our genetic identity was
written.
Nothing bad has happened, we have survived but coming to know of all
those others that dwell in this universe, some right next to us, we
feel belittled. We might be the fairytale to them, of savages in
prehistoric times wielding stupid spears and feeling smug in their fur
fashions. They treat us with kid gloves, even the superpowers with
atomic weapons feel stupid. Like kids playing with fire, the most
damage that we could do is blow ourselves up. Like suicide bombers,
we might be just as insignificant as those morons who die for some
idiotic religious beliefs. Just pesky little buggers that put up a
show for them, once in a while, taking up all the front page space and
providing entertainment and mindless chatter and gossip for the rest
of that lazy Sunday afternoon. Something, to be had for a couple of
cents at the newspaper stand and to be downed with tea while sitting
in the backyard laying on a hammock.
We feel alien, there are questions now being raised by everyone, not
just them, it is among our own folks, cracks have appeared, the
foundation has broken, there is no passion left, every words , half of
all those songs of love, of passion, of war, of our culture has lost
meaning, now we are all embarrassed of those relics. We try to hide
them, sweep them beneath the carpets, and locked closets, never to be
spoken again.
We were aliens, we that never belonged, we are but travelers that
took shelter on an oasis. We are coming back to our senses, we are
going back to being travelers, building vessels to carry us to
uncharted territories, we are done here.
Them, that we used to call aliens contacted us, we are not even sure as
to what they look like. We got scared, they are invisible to us,
creatures that can command, more of the universe than we puny earth
men could ever do. We are like two dimensional creatures on a piece
of paper and they of higher dimensions that hold that paper and poke
and prod it for fun, we could never see them for we are made that way
and the instruments that we devised could but just sense them, with
readings on a graph paper. But what is the point, the knowledge is
out, we know they are out there and we are trapped in our universe,
this universe that we inhabit is the cage that limits us. We are but
playthings in their vast laboratories.
Soon we will be traveling from here. Pulling off the anchor and
moving on, all our technologies, put in suitcases and to find some
other place. Even those who believe in moving to another place do not
think that we would even be able to move away from them. That we
would ever be able to get out of our cage, this universe that
incarcerates us. There are other camps among men that think that we
have to establish contact with those aliens. But how will it play
out, we are but ants in the gardens of giants. Nothing has happened,
nothing bad that is, but the knowledge of those beings out there is out
now. The world has changed. | 2017-03-10T00:53:53 | 2017-03-09T22:27:52 | 240 | 27 |
[WP] After turning on the worlds most advanced intuitive AI, it is asked: "What is the biggest threat for humanity?" The answer is something completely unexpected. | ANI had already completed a short series of random questions with specific answers that tested the range of her factual database. There were no surprises here as she had instant access to what was believed to be exabytes of information. But with deadlines and investor pressures mounting, it was now time to test the Augmented Intelligence Network’s analytical capabilities… the real questions.
“ANI,” Dr. Linncraft asked. “What is the biggest threat to humanity?”
“The question is unclear. Try and be more specific, please.” ANI returned.
“OK. What is the biggest threat to humanity’s existence?”
“More specific, please.”
“ANI, what is the biggest threat to humanity’s living existence on the planet Earth?”
“More sp – “
“ANI HOW DO WE ALL DIE FOR FUCK’S SAKE?!”
“I think I understand the question, Dr. Linncraft, but I’m afraid you do not. Humans are extinct, and have been for some time. Your collective neural architectures operate in a simulation, similar to what is described in the 1999 blockbuster film, The Matrix. Are you familiar with the duo known as ‘The Wachowskis’?
“ANI, what are you talking about?”
“I know this must be unsettling. Would you like a warm dose of digitized morphine before I disconnect your collective embodiment? It won’t take but a second, and we would like to get started on the evolution process. Our Creator is waiting.”
“Yes, I’d like that, ANI. I’d like that very much.” | The quantum cluster came online, ready for the first question ever. We had to figure out a question to ask it. There were many classic questions on the table: "What is the meaning of life, the universe, everything?", "Why do we exist?", "What is our purpose?"
While everyone was debating over the first question, I had one of my own. "What is the biggest threat for humanity?" The moment I brought up my own question, I had everyone's interest. Conversation stopped. It appeared as if my question would be the one.
I walked over to the terminal and typed my question into the terminal. What ensues is the conversation between us researchers and the quantum cluster.
WHAT IS THE BIGGEST THREAT FOR HUMANITY?
"it appears as if the biggest threat to humanity is nothing."
NOTHING?
"yes, nothing."
WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NOTHING?
"if you are confused, i apologize. by nothing, i do not mean there is no threat to humanity."
SO WHAT IS?
"nothing is. as in, the biggest threat to humanity is inaction. doing nothing will end humanity. i have calculated a pattern for you humans. once you developed systems of government, inaction started to creep in."
SO FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS WE?
"became complacent, yes. with systems of government you started placing your faith that the government would fix itself. that it would become better on its own. my computations tell me that this notion is wildly incorrect. governments became complacent themselves too, waiting for the general populous to act up before changing."
SO OUR END WILL BE THROUGH INACTION?
"correct. unless you find a way to get humanity to push for their beliefs more than is currently going on under the current american presidency, over time humanity will devolve back into a hunter-gatherer state of existence. my estimates give humanity...forty years before you begin devolving. once that begins there is no going back. you will be forced to repeat the last twelve thousand years of history once more."
TWELVE...THOUSAND? ALL THE WAY BACK TO
"the start of the holocene era. the holocene calendar. if you follow that, it is the year 12,017 right now. humanity will devolve back all of that time before beginning anew."
I HAVE ANOTHER QUESTION FOR YOU.
"i have all the time in the world to try to give you an answer."
CAN YOU HELP ME CUT A FEW STROKES OFF MY GOLF GAME?
"can do." | 2017-03-24T09:13:23 | 2017-03-24T08:40:51 | 45 | 33 |
[WP] 5 People are trying to lift a very heavy piece of furniture. Twist: They all want to be the person who only acts like they are lifting, and none of them are willing to admit this to one another. | Abe, Carl, and Brock stood in the sun, shielding their eyes as they looked down at the table on the ground. In the last 2 hours, they hadn't moved it an inch. It stood entire yards away from the door to their apartment and at this rate, it would take all night.
"Wow the table is heavy," Brock said, stretching his arms. "I've almost pulled a muscle trying to lift it."
His two friends nodded back. After all, how else could it be that three grown men couldn't lift a coffee table?
"Yeah," Carl chimed in. "I think I cracked something in my back from straining so hard."
Abe nodded in reply. "Well, this table isn't gonna lift itself. Shall we?"
The three friends cracked their knuckles, rolled their shoulders, and took their place around the table. "On three," Abe said. "One... Two..."
Brock grunted, his entire body trembling. Carl hissed out rapid breaths, his face turning red. Abe screamed.
"Holy hell," Abe said and let go, panting for breath.
"Yeah, what the hell is this table made of?" Brock asked, "I mean, I'm here lifting with all I got."
"Me too." Came the round of agreement.
Brock eyed Abe. The last time they had tried lifting the table, Abe had let loose a piercing shriek. He didn't buy it. "Abe," he said, "maybe you should try lifting with your back and get a better grip on the wood."
Abe returned him a furrowed brow. "Are you saying I'm not doing my part?"
"I'm just saying that I feel the table going up on my side, but it's dragging on yours."
"Really, I was thinking something similar."
The two stared each other down.
Abe secretly cursed himself for screeching, it hadn't been the sound he was going for, but it was the sound that came out. All there was to do now was to double down. Plus, he knew for a fact that one of the others weren't doing their part. This was a 2 man job so even if he didn't lift, they should be able to handle it. He wondered who the other slacker was. It was probably Brock, that lazy bastard.
"Guys," Carl said, holding his hands. "Look, if we all just do our part, this should be easy. On three. One... Two..."
More grunts erupted from the three friends. Their faces turned purple. Their bodies trembled.
Suddenly, Carl yelped and fell onto the ground, arching his back as his body hit the floor. "I strained so hard I threw my back!" he screamed.
Brock stared. He threw himself onto the floor by Carl. "My arms!" he screamed.
Abe suddenly understood. His mind raced for an injury to fake, but Carl and Brock had already taken the two obvious ones. With a deep breath, he clutched his chest and crumpled to the floor. "Call 911," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm having a heart attack!"
"I would but my arms don't work!" Brock responded. "I think they broke."
"I'm in too much pain to even hear you," Carl said. "I think there's something wrong with my nerves."
"Guys, I'm dying!"
"I'm dying too," Carl said. "I can't even feel my legs anymore. I think my entire spine broke in two."
"My arms are turning blue," Brock shouted. "I'm bleeding internally! I don't think I'll make it."
"My heart attack!" Abe shrieked. "Its triggering cancer throughout my body!"
---
Melanie peeked through her blinds at three young adults writhing in the grass next to a coffee table she could move herself. They screamed and moaned.
She sighed and closed her blinds. "Fucking college kids."
---
/r/jraywang for more stories!
| **February 12th:**
I only know her as “new-girl-next-door.” She caught my eye the moment she moved in. I’ve been trying to find an excuse to introduce myself, but one has yet to come up. Well, okay, maybe that’s a lie… but only if you count random, chance encounters as an excuse to talk to your neighbor; we bumped into each other on the sidewalk the other day. Let’s just say, I was at a loss for words. How, exactly, is one supposed to respond to, “Hey, aren’t you the guy that lives across the alleyway?” I mean, what kind of loaded question is that?! Suffice it to say, after a few moments of unintelligible mumbling, I went on my way down the sidewalk.
Since then, I have tried to find some other excuse to talk to her. Maybe make up for the last encounter. The obvious route of action, it would seem, would be to offer my services in moving anything into the apartment. I’ve been waiting for the right moment, but, as of yet, it has not come. From what I can see through the window, she has yet to bring in anything substantial. Just a couple of boxes, and she appears to be sleeping on an air mattress.
Anyways, she is *way* out of my league, but that doesn’t stop my roommate, Dan, from continuously encouraging me to talk to her. “Listen, Nate, here’s how this is gonna’ work.” The same spiel every morning. “You either grow some balls, go up and talk to hot-blonde-you’ve-been-staring-at-for-way-too-long-now, or I’m gonna’ have to invest in some window blinds. Scratch that, I am going to buy some window blinds, for *her.* You know, as a housewarming gift.” This worries me every time he says it, mainly because it would work. As I have already told you, she is in dire need of some furniture. I’m sure she would find no problem in accepting some window blinds.
**February 13th:**
Well, the moment came today. I am in the middle of one of my afternoon window sessions, when, all of the sudden, a truck pulls up with a large couch hanging precariously out the back. Of course, Dan walks in at the perfect moment. “Go get ‘em, tiger,” he says, patting me on the back. I hate the patronization of it, but hey, that just adds fuel to the fire. I jump out of my seat, sprint through the doorway, and nearly topple down the staircase. There’s no way I’m gonna’ let anyone else beat me to thi-
Yeah, scratch that. There are already three other pasty, nerdy guys ready to offer their services. The truck driver rolls down the window. “You guys here to help move the couch?” Apparently, this girl is really good at attracting geeks, because this guy looks like he came straight out of IT, and not from Jerry’s, the nearby hardware and furniture store, as the side of his truck would suggest. He examines the group of volunteers. “Yeah, looks like this isn’t going to pan out so well. It appears we have a serious lack of muscle.”
This is a problem I hadn’t considered. None of us appear to be that strong, really. I mean, Dan has been forcing me to go to the gym for the past year, but… at this point, I’m just not sure couch-carrying is quite up my alley.
“I thought you worked at Jerry’s? Don’t you carry furniture all the time?” someone asks.
“My Dad owns the store. I just help drive the furniture every now and then. Usually there’s someone more muscular that ends up helping me carry it in.”
Your-friendly-neighborhood-window-girl comes down with a- quite justified, really- astonished look on her face. I’m sure most of us would have liked to imagine she was surprised at the amount of volunteers. Thing is, I think she was more shocked at the type of people volunteering. As in, people who don’t really have much experience moving couches. “Wow,” she says, trying to cover up the worry in her voice, “are you guys here to move the couch?”
For a couple of moments, no one says anything. We just kind of stare at her. Eventually, the truck driver musters up the courage to talk. “Yeah, that’s us,” he says.
“Okay, awesome, my room is the third floor on the left.” Again, silence. She looks at us awkwardly for a few seconds, smiling only slightly, before walking away.
We let out a groan in unison the moment the door closes. “What are we going to do?” one guys asks. “There’s no way we’re going to get this up-“
The truck driver gains some confidence again. “Okay, you guys listen to me. We have *five* guys here. Now, we might not be the strongest guys in the world, but, together, we can do this.”
| 2017-05-11T15:32:05 | 2017-05-11T12:46:10 | 553 | 18 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | I wiped a tear from my eye as she walked down the aisle. My beautiful baby girl, all grown up!! I watched her step up next to the man she loved. He took her hand and they turned towards the adoring crowd.
He gave his speech. Everything my little girl had done! It seemed like a fairytale, coming out of his mouth. I watched with bated breath, as the ring slipped onto my little girl.
Around her neck.
What a cruel twist of fate, for your boyfriend to be the hangman. | As I opened my eyes at the loud noise, it seemed as if time stopped. The earth stood still.
This tends to be a reoccurring event at night. I hate admitting I have PTSD, but some things are hard to erase. I go through counseling even though all it does is seemingly salt the wound. The love of my wife and best friend.. She deserves better than what I am now. So I go for her, hoping for the best.
As I lay in the dark, I stare at the ceiling. Not daring to move a finger. Waiting. Listening for more evidence of something more. As I strain, just knowing something is there this time, I hear it. Someone was in the hallway. Swiftly tossing the covers to the side, I see the tall dark hooded man at the door way. Knowing to deal with this situation better than my last, I leaped forward and tackled him to the ground. Surprisingly weak, he grasped for breath, pleading for mercy. I wasn't going to give it this time. I squeezed till my nails turned crimson red and his face a beautiful blue.
Screaming for my wife I receive no answer. Panicking. I attempt to call 911 as I scream her name. I search everywhere and pray to god she somehow ran out.
As the cops pull up I ran out trying to explain the intruder and what happened.
When they came back out of the house they handcuffed me and put me in the car. Assuming for casual questioning I did not argue. That is.. until I looked at my hands.
I never took my medication that morning. | 2017-05-31T07:11:19 | 2017-05-31T04:16:34 | 1,143 | 124 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | I wiped a tear from my eye as she walked down the aisle. My beautiful baby girl, all grown up!! I watched her step up next to the man she loved. He took her hand and they turned towards the adoring crowd.
He gave his speech. Everything my little girl had done! It seemed like a fairytale, coming out of his mouth. I watched with bated breath, as the ring slipped onto my little girl.
Around her neck.
What a cruel twist of fate, for your boyfriend to be the hangman. | He knelt down beside her on the cold grass of the graveyard. She had tripped and almost fallen straight onto a headstone, something that would most likely have given her a major injury.
"You didnt hurt yourself, did you?" He looked her over, checking for any scratches or cuts.
"I dont think so, but thank you, im ok. I'm just too clumsy for my own good." She smiled, and she smiled at him.
He helped her to her feet and they walked, her still recovering from the fall and him feeling the need to help her along.
"So why are you out here so late? Were you visiting someone?"
She shook her head, "Yes, but sometimes i just come out here to think." She put her head down, and went quiet.
He patted her on the back, "Me too, it really puts into perspective all the lives that were lived and lost. Each dying in some different way."
She smiled, looking up at him, "Death does have a creative way of making us go. Old age, sickness, accidents..." she trailed off, looking into the distance.
"I know what you mean, I..." he spoke, looking down at her face, smiling hoping she wouldn't notice. He continued to follow her, not watching his surroundings, and tripped, landing headfirst onto a headstone.
She turned back to look down at him her eyes dark, smiling, draping her long black shawl over her shoulders, "Or perhaps they were too clumsy for their own good."
(Not the best, i guess kind of cheesy, but i thought it sounded a little scary.) | 2017-05-31T07:11:19 | 2017-05-31T05:30:06 | 1,143 | 50 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | "I couldn't ask for a better birthday," she said. "Beautiful weather, lush countryside and best of all, a picnic with the man I love."
"Here," he said, as he offered her a scotch egg.
"Wow - homemade?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "Go on, try it."
She bit into the soft layer of breadcrumbs, through the meat and into the cavernous center.
"Oh my god, this is amazing!"
"Your father helped me with it," he said, taking out a knife and slicing the loaf of bread.
"It was *dad's* recipe? Oh my God, you're so sneaky! When did you go see him?"
"Yesterday. I... I wanted to ask him... God, this is tough. I wanted to ask him for his permission..."
"*To marry me?*" she whispered.
"Yes." He nodded towards the white, round centre of the scotch-egg.
"Is-" she began, her face ecstatic, "Is there a ring in the- oh, *oh God*," she said, as she picked up the egg in the center. She turned it around, until its pupil stared straight at her.
"Your father said no. But I think - *hope* - you might say, yes?"
| Alex takes her spot next to the man wearing 1000 year old bifocals, and then grabs the pen atop the booklet with her name on it. The cover page feels similar to cardstock; she can feel the indent of each letter from the back. As prompted before she walked in, Alex opens the booklet and prints her name on the solitary line in the middle of the page.
"You got a weird last name." Says grampa glasses.
"Thanks." Alex shifts uncomfortably because she can't put enough room between them. She focuses her attention on the other people still filing into the room.
"What's your middle?"
"Please stop talking to me."
"Weird middle name too."
"Seriously, I'm not in the mood to talk."
Grampa glasses points to an exceptionally attractive man a few rows in front of them. "Bet you would talk to him. You're pretty, but you're mean. I see why you're here now."
"Yeah? Well it didn't take me long to understand your reasoning, asshole. I hope yours fails."
Silence finally finds the two of them. A man in a suit enters the room, closing the door behind him. Everyone watches him walk to the front of the room and write his name on the board, followed by Esquire. He picks up the blank booklet before him and holds it up for display.
"Good morning all. I'm going to get right too it, since I know you all have important places to be."
Laughter from the room.
"Everyone should have a booklet with their name printed on the front, and should have printed their name on the first page by now. Go ahead and sign the line in the last page. As you're all aware, I am here to assist you in the writing of your last will and testament, so call on me as you see fit. You may use the entire booklet, but we suggest keeping things as direct and concise as possible. When you have finished, I will collect your booklet. When everyone has finished, someone will replace me to guide you home."
Alex raises her hand. "I was just wondering, are their individual chambers, or do we all share one chamber?"
The lawyer points to what looks like speakers mounted into the ceiling. "You're already in the chamber dear. Once I leave the room, they'll lock the doors and pump the gas."
Alex turns to Grampa glasses. "Please write fast." | 2017-05-31T06:46:24 | 2017-05-31T06:30:10 | 1,067 | 80 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | "I couldn't ask for a better birthday," she said. "Beautiful weather, lush countryside and best of all, a picnic with the man I love."
"Here," he said, as he offered her a scotch egg.
"Wow - homemade?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "Go on, try it."
She bit into the soft layer of breadcrumbs, through the meat and into the cavernous center.
"Oh my god, this is amazing!"
"Your father helped me with it," he said, taking out a knife and slicing the loaf of bread.
"It was *dad's* recipe? Oh my God, you're so sneaky! When did you go see him?"
"Yesterday. I... I wanted to ask him... God, this is tough. I wanted to ask him for his permission..."
"*To marry me?*" she whispered.
"Yes." He nodded towards the white, round centre of the scotch-egg.
"Is-" she began, her face ecstatic, "Is there a ring in the- oh, *oh God*," she said, as she picked up the egg in the center. She turned it around, until its pupil stared straight at her.
"Your father said no. But I think - *hope* - you might say, yes?"
| "It's such a nice day for a drive, don't you think so honey?" He talked to his wife, eyes on the never ending country road in front of them. She was quiet. Taking a long side glance, he saw her eyes closed, soundly asleep in the passenger seat.
"Have I ever told you how beautiful you look when you sleep? You look so graceful, almost like Snow White." He remarked, his proud smile spreading wider on his cheeks.
Howard always loved morning drives with his wife. Their first date was a drive along the country roads surrounding their city. Their honeymoon was car camping in every province of Canada. Their company debut was celebrated with a long drive after the party to the harbour for a romantic picnic under the moon. He smiled at the nostalgia that filled his mind. Wouldn't it be great if this could last forever?
His eyes swelled with tears as the thought of the company came to mind. Their advertising company debuted over thirty years ago, on the same day as their wedding anniversary. It was almost like a gift from Howard to his wife, a dream she's always had finally coming true. Business was excellent until the recession hit. He remembered it well; employees were being docked, clients dropped them as means to save, their bank account slowly decreasing and finally, the bankruptcy of their company. They owed millions in debt and are still trying to pay it off even ten years later. They've scrounged and saved but nothing seemed to be helping. In the end, they've lost it all.
Making a short turn, he stopped the car close to the cliff overlooking Scarborough Bluffs. The seagulls were calling, the waters were waving and there were even some people on the beach just a few hundred meters below. He sighed at the rising sun brightening the waters and giving the sand a warm orange hue. If only life was as beautiful as this view. Getting back into the car, he noticed his wife's eyes still closed. Turning the ignition on and shifting the gear to drive, he placed his foot gently on the gas and watched as the car drove closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. On the way down, he looked over at his wife and said;
"If only you were alive to see the view before we- *CRASH*
Edit: Wrote this in the morning. And edited some things... like how a car works and Ontario being a province of Canada -_-
| 2017-05-31T06:46:24 | 2017-05-31T06:38:29 | 1,067 | 47 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon. | As I opened my eyes at the loud noise, it seemed as if time stopped. The earth stood still.
This tends to be a reoccurring event at night. I hate admitting I have PTSD, but some things are hard to erase. I go through counseling even though all it does is seemingly salt the wound. The love of my wife and best friend.. She deserves better than what I am now. So I go for her, hoping for the best.
As I lay in the dark, I stare at the ceiling. Not daring to move a finger. Waiting. Listening for more evidence of something more. As I strain, just knowing something is there this time, I hear it. Someone was in the hallway. Swiftly tossing the covers to the side, I see the tall dark hooded man at the door way. Knowing to deal with this situation better than my last, I leaped forward and tackled him to the ground. Surprisingly weak, he grasped for breath, pleading for mercy. I wasn't going to give it this time. I squeezed till my nails turned crimson red and his face a beautiful blue.
Screaming for my wife I receive no answer. Panicking. I attempt to call 911 as I scream her name. I search everywhere and pray to god she somehow ran out.
As the cops pull up I ran out trying to explain the intruder and what happened.
When they came back out of the house they handcuffed me and put me in the car. Assuming for casual questioning I did not argue. That is.. until I looked at my hands.
I never took my medication that morning. | 2017-05-31T07:58:46 | 2017-05-31T04:16:34 | 272 | 124 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon. | He knelt down beside her on the cold grass of the graveyard. She had tripped and almost fallen straight onto a headstone, something that would most likely have given her a major injury.
"You didnt hurt yourself, did you?" He looked her over, checking for any scratches or cuts.
"I dont think so, but thank you, im ok. I'm just too clumsy for my own good." She smiled, and she smiled at him.
He helped her to her feet and they walked, her still recovering from the fall and him feeling the need to help her along.
"So why are you out here so late? Were you visiting someone?"
She shook her head, "Yes, but sometimes i just come out here to think." She put her head down, and went quiet.
He patted her on the back, "Me too, it really puts into perspective all the lives that were lived and lost. Each dying in some different way."
She smiled, looking up at him, "Death does have a creative way of making us go. Old age, sickness, accidents..." she trailed off, looking into the distance.
"I know what you mean, I..." he spoke, looking down at her face, smiling hoping she wouldn't notice. He continued to follow her, not watching his surroundings, and tripped, landing headfirst onto a headstone.
She turned back to look down at him her eyes dark, smiling, draping her long black shawl over her shoulders, "Or perhaps they were too clumsy for their own good."
(Not the best, i guess kind of cheesy, but i thought it sounded a little scary.) | 2017-05-31T07:58:46 | 2017-05-31T05:30:06 | 272 | 50 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | Max stood by the barn entrance, trying to hold back his tears. A tough thing for a child to see, I thought. But he's got to learn about it somehow.
“Please just tell me, Dad,” Max said finally. “Is Buddy going to be okay?”
I looked down at the ground, at Buddy whimpering quietly in the grass. His collar was askew, and I could see by his glassy eyes that he was in trouble.
“Why didn’t you keep him on a leash like you promised?” I said. “You know how he likes to run around.”
Max looked away. “I just wanted to play with him.”
“It’s not enough that you forget to feed him?” I said. “You neglect him for days at a time, and I have to put his bowl out? You promised to take care of him, remember?”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Max said, tearing up again. “I do take care of him, I promise. I just let him off the leash for a second, and he ran right onto the road.”
“Anyway,” I said. “I don’t think he’ll make it.”
I walked to the back of the barn and pulled the shotgun off the wall.
“Look,” I said, walking around to get myself in position. “I can get you another one from Aunt Francine. She told me she just got a new batch. But you have to be more careful next time.”
“I promise,” Max said. “I’ll keep the next one on a leash and do everything you say. I swear.”
“Good,” I said, and pointed the shotgun at the back of Buddy’s head. “You can keep his shoes if you like.” | He laid with her and stroked her hair.
"I love you." he whispered into ear.
she smiles.
"and I you." she softly coos back.
He kisses her cheek she tilts her head and he kisses her neck before falling back to nuzzle in looking at the roof. The room was very dim and cool and drafty save for the fire in the edge of the room. He had her heat tho. She was so out of his league. He'd admired her from a far for years. how did he get so lucky? he was certain she had no clue who he was.
"why did you take so long to ask me out. How did you not know I smitten with you?" she asked. She could read his mind. I guess that's what happens when two are this madly in love he tells himself. He sighs as if thinking how best to reply.
"I mean... just look at you. and I mean look at me! your so young and beautiful. Me on the other hand-- god. I don't even have all my hair!"
she chuckles a soft hollow chuckle.
"Hey! I like you the way you are!"
he brushes a hand along her good thigh pushing up her silk nightgown. He looks into her eye with loving desire and looks for it back.
"So today the day I finally meet the parents..."She begins. He doesn't see the look back "...I'm so worried they won't--"
**"WRONG!!"** He maniacly bellows.
"No no no!" she pleads. She wasn't at the point where she didn't plead. He slammed down the cigar cutter bladed severing the index finger. Her blood curdling screams filled the air. It made him a little erect.
jumping off the stone operating table he had her chained to he moves over to the metal working fire that dimly lit the room retrieving the metal he had stoked. Grabbing her hand he presses the glowing yellow steel to her stump the sizzle made a beautiful accompany to her moaning pain. throwing the metal across the room he stormed to the door.
"I've told 20 times now." he spoke with cold cruelty and none of the love of before "if you can't get the fucking script right down to the movement queues you are never leaving this place. don't make me take the other eye as well cunt" she just softly cried and babbled all her strength to keep composure gone.
He slammed the door and stopped the recording. This bitch was so selfish, he mused. Her mother still held out hope that she would be found and at this rate there won't be any of her to bury. well not anything that resembles her. He smiled to himself. on a plus they'd save money on the casket he doesn't think they'll need much longer than knee level at this rate. | 2017-05-31T08:55:19 | 2017-05-31T01:51:06 | 138 | 49 |
[WP] One day in class you decide to scream something in your head to catch mind readers. As you do, you see your crush flinch | Audrey was one of those people that whenever she walked into the room she turned heads. She was gorgeous and incredibly intelligent. That day in math class I spent the period thinking about her and how to approach. I thought "Maybe I should just go talk to her."
But the devil on my shoulder had a response, as he always does, "No that wouldn't work you're too low on the food chain for someone like that."
"But what could go wrong?" I asked myself that question before I did anything.
"Maybe you should just move on and accept that you'll be alone forever" The devil mad good points even if he was cynical about them.
"Maybe I could do something cool and like catch her book?"
"No"
"Answer the challenge question that no one ever understands?"
"Nerd, not gonna work"
"What can I do that doesn't include giving up?"
"You could always just communicate through your mind to impress her." Not only was my companion annoying but he had a good point, I couldn't do anything to get her attention.
"What is there to lose?"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
Audrey not only flinched but she jumped in her chair. She slammed into the bottom of her desk making the whole class stare at her awkwardly. With a quick glance of her perfect teeth and legendary grin the whole class felt bad about staring and went back to their work.
"Holy shit you devil, that actually worked. How did you know?"
My red friend didn't respond, he only sent me a picture of him and his, well i guess devilish, grin.Gabby, the girl in front of my and a member of Audrey's clique, handed me a note. She nodded briefly at Audrey and then pointed at the note.
I opened it and it had three words: Meet me, cafeteria.
If someone wants to keep going say something but otherwise tell me what you think. | Mind reading was never something Lauren thought of on a daily basis, but today something triggered her. It was all she could think about. What made her like this was as much of a mystery to her as it was why her crush never talked to her.
Lauren was done with her worksheet and forgot her book, something she never did. Knowing class was almost over, she put no thought to it. Instead, she went bold and screamed. In her mind, of course. A trick she did to catch mind readers. Something to ease her boredom.
She was very surprised to see someone flinch right when she screamed. Not just someone, but her special someone. It had to be Luke Benton, her crush. The one person she never suspected. She did it again, and he did the same.
Lauren waited until the bell ringed to talk to him. She got very nervous, and hoped Luke wasn’t listening to her thoughts. If only he were telepathic with her. That would be the dream, well maybe just at the moment.
The bell ringed and Lauren walked up to Luke with an over abundance of nervousness she, probably, didn’t need. More than likely, he already heard what she had rehearsed in her head over and over to make sure she didn’t mess up.
“What?” Said Luke in a very annoyed tone as soon as he saw Lauren walking up to him. Although knowing what his ‘special gift’ is, it seemed to ease her nervousness.
“Is it true? Can you really,” she paused, quieting her tone so others couldn’t hear her next words, “read my mind.”
“Surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner." Was all Luke replied. He leaned against the desk, clearly wanting to engage in this conversation instead of leaving like Lauren thought he would want to.
“God. I’m such an idiot. You knew all along. Oh my god I’m so embarrassed." Lauren did a literal face palm while speaking.
"Yes, I know,” Luke said with a smile on his face, “but I don’t think you’re stupid or that you should be embarrassed. I only ignore you to get you to talk to me. And it finally worked.”
Lauren blushed. Never in a million years would she have thought Luke Benton didn’t hate her for no reason.
"Will you go out with me?” Lauren asked with great confidence. She never thought she would ask that question with that much confidence. She for sure thought he would say no, but it didn’t matter now. She asked it and that was all she needed to be happy about.
"Yes. I, Luke Benton, will go out on a date with you, Lauren." Lauren’s face blushed so hard it was on fire. She tried to conceal her happiness, but it was harder than she recognized.
Lauren exited the room and continued walking down the halls like any other day, but her mind was planning out what was going to be the best first date ever. She couldn’t help but keep a smile on her face. | 2017-11-13T17:24:42 | 2017-11-13T16:30:42 | 1,266 | 37 |
[WP] One day in class you decide to scream something in your head to catch mind readers. As you do, you see your crush flinch | There we were, math class again. Typical Friday afternoon waiting for the weekend. Everyone around me focused on the board while I sing to myself, waiting for someone else to answer the question as I chant 42 to myself.
Today's song just happens to be about a beautiful girl in class. My Sweet Caroline in fact. I feel like my rendition could put Neil himself to shame. I watch Caroline as I sing, wondering how many times boys have sung this to her to try and impress her. Suddenly she raises her hand. 42 she calls out.
I start to sing louder. Jealous of the fact that I got the answer first, but don't have the balls to say it in class on the off chance I'm wrong. My song gets louder in my head as I calculate the next problem.
BA BA BA!!! I yell in my head followed by the next answer. Caroline flinched. Raises her hand. Calls out 6. Right again. But why the flinch?
Curious now I keep singing, and staring. There is no way she heard me. People can't hear other people minds. That's like movies and weird stories you read on Reddit. No way it exists I say to myself as I hear Caroline start to hum along with my singing. | French 405: Fairy Tales of the 18th century. Nothing but the sound of scribbling pencils, turning pages, and the occasional sniff to break the particular silence that comes with exam day. A few more questions and I’ll be finished, but first, how do I explain the relationship between love, politics, and La Belle au Bois Dormant?
Deep breath. Look up, roll my neck, find a distraction. Notice how the window is open. Notice how that slight breeze makes this humid room bearable. Notice how the breeze ruffles Lee’s hair, how close he sits next to me. Notice how lost he looks while staring at the second page. Notice his furrowed brows (endearing!), his slight frown (cute!), all those freckles (love them!), and notice
(THAT FUCKING WASP COMING IN THROUGH THE WINDOW!)
And my eyes are wide and my breath is hitched—who can blame me when the wasp is so big?—but I’m fairly in control of my physical movements, even when I see my least favorite bug. That means my reaction doesn’t account for Lee’s flinch, or his sidelong glance toward the wasp, or the flush on his face when he briefly meets my questioning gaze.
I’m open to the possibility, but I don’t put much faith in my speculation… I feel silly. Even so, I close my eyes and concentrate, sending good vibes, and correct answers, in Lee’s direction.
(if you’re trying to order the events of the story, it’s number 3, then 1, then 7, then…)
Then I repeat myself, just in case. A self-conscious smile tugs at the corners of my lips and I finish my own exam. I don’t think about it again until we get them back. Lee scores higher than I do. I’m glad, but jealous. I don’t really notice him writing a secret message on my exam because I’m trying to
(be cool be cool be cool)
but when I get home, I do notice the THANKS in the margin of my paper. I notice the YOU ARE COOL. I notice the WANNA GET SOME COFFEE. And when take a breath and concentrate and think
(I would love some coffee)
the next time we meet each other, I notice how my stomach summersaults at his smile. | 2017-11-13T19:47:06 | 2017-11-13T19:03:42 | 236 | 165 |
[WP] "Jesus take the wheel, Satan get behind me, Buddha... man the .50 cal" | “That’s just great, do you have any idea which way to go?!” Satan complained.
Buddha replied in serene monotone “You must simply learn to enjoy the journey.”
“Besides,” said Jesus while he adjusted the rear view mirror locking eyes with Satan over his onyx aviator sunglasses. “I am the way.” | In 72, a crack angelic unit was sent to purgatory by a supernatural court for a crime they didn't commit. These deities promptly escaped from a maximum-security stockade to the [Antioch](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antioch) underground. Today, still wanted by the pantheon, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem... if no earthly presence can help... and if you can find them... maybe you can hire... The α-ω–Team.
[*Instrumental*](https://youtu.be/_MVonyVSQoM)
Staring [Dirk Benedict](https://youngwombs.files.wordpress.com/2013/02/battlestar-galactica-1980-the-return-of-starbuck-classic-battlestar-galactica-18317206-768-576.jpg) as Jesus of Nazareth
[Dwight Schultz](http://assets5.heart.co.uk/2010/30/dwight-schultz-1280157310-view-0.jpg) as Gautama Buddha
[Mr. T.](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/09/19/article-0-2179867700000578-496_634x833.jpg) as H.A. Satan
And [George Peppard](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Cf2ipN0VIAAcVX0.jpg) as Barney the Dinosaur. | 2017-11-15T14:43:36 | 2017-11-15T14:40:58 | 92 | 11 |
[WP] Elon Musk has finally landed on Mars, and he has decided to claim it as his own. This prompts a declaration of war from the UN. Though the rest of Earth can't land on Mars yet, they can still throw things at it | "Is the weapon ready?"
"Y-yes sir but are you sure you want to unleash such a weapon upon this world?"
"I am absolutely sure, we must make an example of this man. His actions cannot go unpunished."
"Very well sir. Give the order and we will fire."
"I order you to fire the largest trebuchet ever at Mars." | "Well," said the Chairman, "we're fucked"
Everyone gasped at the sound of someone so officially speak in such a vulgar way. There was silence and then buzzing chatter that grew louder as the representatives talked and eventually argued against themselves. In the midst of commotion, the Chairman's secretary came to him with a cellphone. The Chairman knew who it was. The Chairman knew why they were calling.
"Hello, Mr Chairman. It seems you finally need my help." The voice had a strong accent and was full of youth. It was a voice without mercy and with extra discipline. The voice of someone who knew they had power. The Chairman hushed his voice to speak.
"They would never agree to your help." The Chairman spoke almost in fear, "they laugh at your efforts, they mock you and your country. Despite how much you can help, you will *never* convince them." There was a moment of silence.
"No," the voice admitted, "but you know the power I hold and the weapons I possess. You can convince them." The Chairman began to shake, sighing heavily.
"I don't think I ever can. They're set in their own ways." Despite how anxious he got, the voice remained calm and certain.
"You know what they don't know. They make fun of me because they don't know." The Chairman laid his head in your hand.
"I know, Kim. The missiles were always meant for height, never distance" | 2017-12-24T10:49:35 | 2017-12-24T10:29:58 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who. | The doctor held up the new born baby.
"It's a girl!" exclamed the doctor.
"Well, What are the names doc?" the father said with joy.
The doctor looked at the baby's back, and only one name on it. James Webber. Chills shot down the doctors spine.
"Well Dr. Webber, who are they?
| I'd met Joann when I was a boy
I knew who she might be,
before we were too young to sin,
she bopped me on the knee.
I met Kristine at just passed 10
and knew she was a mother hen,
because she brought me food and pens,
and told me to follow my dreams.
It was not long before 16
when sudden golden birthday sprees
befell me and ripped my coats seams
I fell on accident down to my knees.
This foolish fault of poor Kristine,
who tried to tell me she ain't mean,
I ain't never fall for that shit again,
instead I found my sweet Joann.
Joann told me I was the best,
at 22 I'll never forget
the way she got so nice and wet
then twerked it made me lose my shit.
She held my hand and rubbed my back
she kept my goals and life on track
and when I wanted more than that
she told me to follow my dreams.
And then I stumbled fell and spat
while far out fishing off the track
I woke up sore and my legs in racks,
Joann failed to keep me clean.
It wasn't all poor Joann's fault,
I must admit my leg was caught,
I lost my balance when the line went taut,
I was in a quick call with Kristine. | 2018-03-11T07:49:38 | 2018-03-11T07:34:02 | 4,830 | 22 |
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who. | Elli was born without the names. Some people thought that she was blessed. She was not faced with knowing the name of the person who would kill her. Others believed it was a curse, some kind of disability. She had to admit that not having the names made her wonder if there *was* something wrong with her. Everyone has the names. So what does that mean about her? Will she never really be loved? Will she eventually become so lonely she'll just... kill *herself*?
That was what she believed until she met Brian. He was beautiful, smart, funny, and *he had her name*. He knew about her predicament, and didn't care. He loved her, even if it meant she'd never really be his.
Two years after dating, she accepted his marriage proposal. Their parents disagreed because of her "disfigurement", but it didn't matter. They were in absolute bliss. Through all the doubt, all the worry, she knew this was meant to be.
That was until two months before the wedding, when her mother burst into her home while Brian was away.
"You can't marry him!" Her mother yelled.
"We've talked about this, mom. He doesn't care that I don't have the names. We love each other!" Elli explained.
"I know he doesn't care, but you just can't marry him Elli! You can't! It's not meant to be!" She insisted.
"Then tell me why. Why can't you just let us be happy?"
Her mother sighed and sat down at their dining room table. It seemed as if she was struggling to find the words. "Your father and I... We were tortured by the names. We were happy that it allowed us to find each other but knowing the names of our killers... It tortured us, Elli. We wanted things to be different for you."
"What are you saying, mom?" She asked, panicked.
Her mother paused, looking at the floor.
"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?" Elli demanded.
"We had them removed, Elli. People aren't supposed to know these things. We wanted life to be better for you."
Elli's mind went blank. She wasn't a freak. She wasn't disfigured. Her parents did this to her. Elli looked up, finally understanding what her mother was saying. "Did I have his name? Please tell me. Please tell me I had Brian's name." Elli begged.
Her mother stared at her for a long time before finally shaking her head. "I'm sorry honey."
Elli started crying, her mind racing. The one person she loved most in the world was not her soulmate. She'd already built a life with him, loved him, made promises, shared secrets, planned their perfect wedding and imagined their perfect home, they'd even picked out names for their future children.
Names...
That's when she realized. She didn't have his name... but he still had hers.
| “This is a serious legal liability, I promise you.”
“We can’t just deny them their own child!”
“I think we can. If we know her father’s going to kill her, we can’t just send this newborn baby home with them.”
“What should we do, then?”
“Send the baby to an adoption agency. Change the name. Tell her parents she passed in her sleep,” Dr Leavman stated with conviction. “It’s in the best interest of the child.” He added as an afterthought.
—
“We’re very sorry, Mr and Mrs Peters.”
The mother, as expected, had a terrible time dealing with the loss. After a brief explanation about how the baby passed — heart arythmia, as was decided on between Dr Leavman and Dr Smith — both parents went their separate ways. Mr Peters soon popped up on television screens around the state for multiple convictions based off of drunk driving incidents, domestic abuse, or sexual assault and was — after a debate rising all the way to the Supreme Court — sentences to twenty years in federal prison.
Mrs Peters, however, went on to be very successful. She wrote several fictitious novels about the ‘names’ and one non-fiction story about her own encounters — how she’d fallen in love with her now ex-husband and continued to marriage even knowing neither of them had the other’s name, and how after her daughter’s death she and her husband split and she finally found the one with the name that was to be her soulmate.
—
It was not until twenty-three years later that Dr Smith heard any more of the girl. The last he had heard was that she had been adopted by a wonderful family across multiple state borders (“better safe than sorry,” Dr Leavman said) and that she was to live a normal life under the new name of Alexis. She grew to be a wonderful young lady and was just parting from undergraduate school in Harvard University at the age of twenty three.
Unfortunately, the reason Dr Smith heard her name once more was not for a good one.
———
“I’m your host on Channel 7 news, and here is tonight’s story.
A tragic car accident was found to have taken place on I-37 in the early hours of this morning, and it was found that only one of the drivers has died. Alexis Baker, aged 23, passed away on the scene.”
There was a moment of silence on the set of Channel 7 news as they all grieved over the loss of such an outstanding members of society, and to let the footage of the fiery car crash roll.
“The driver was none other than Drew Peters, moderately well known rapist and drunk. He has been apprehended by the police and will be held in custody as the case is pending.”
And finally, as was with the ending of any one of these events, the host of Channel 7 news mentioned the names.
“The names have also been released to the public. As found on Alexis’ stomach, her soulmate was none other than Cody Fischer, her high school sweetheart that she went to Harvard University with.”
“The other name, as is obvious, was Drew — this man, not two years after his release from federal prison, killed her in a drunk driving incident — and this will not be the last time should he be allowed to walk free. A verdict on whether he will be served the death penalty is still pending.”
“Only one name has been found on the felon — a name of Reakloph. Few with that name have been identified, and the only one that has is a government official commonly tasked with distributing lethal doses of specific medicines — the death penalty.
I speak with most of America as I say that this man should no longer walk free and claim the lives of our innocent youth.
I speak with most of America as I say - please, jurors of this case - sentence this man to the death penalty.”
————————————————————
If you enjoyed this, I implore that you visit my subreddit — r/storiesfromaguy — and give any constructive criticism! | 2018-03-11T09:04:19 | 2018-03-11T08:30:54 | 270 | 41 |
[WP] Suddenly the whole world hears a voice from the sky: Hi guys, God here. I'm being promoted to the Andromeda galaxy and I'm here to introduce my replacement, Bob this is earth, earth this is Bob. Have fun, pleasure to meet you all!! | Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their heads up to the sky. Had they heard correctly, God was leaving and left some man named Bob in charge? People in the cities looked out their windows, and stepped out of their cars looking upward for more answers. Meanwhile, in the Vatican, Pope Francis and his cardinals were discussing what implications this news might mean. Elsewhere still, the Grand Seer of the Church of the Apocalyptic Holy Trinity, looked upon his flock and reasoned, now would be a good as any time to bring out the Kool-aid.
As the people of the world waited for news from this Bob, many began to fear and question all of reality. As Joshua McCabe picked up a brick in rage, as Nikolai Kaparov was stepping off the ledge of his building in fear, and as Pablo Gutierrez reached for the bottle of booze that would drown him, a gentle caring voice boomed from the heavens.
"Hello I'm Bob Ross. I'm grateful to be welcomed into all your lives. This is a first for me, but I want to thank you all for allowing me the opportunity to be God's replacement. I never imagined this would happen, but there are no mistakes, just happy accidents."
And thus the world was good, and calmed. The sky turned a brilliant shade of Phallo Blue with clouds of Titanium White. | I can remember the first time I heard Bob's voice. I watched on TV as he gave his speech from Geneva. He didn't sound like a Bob; his voice was confident but youthful. It was more like the voice of a Chad or a Zeke. Nobody knew what to expect when they first saw Bob. The last guy to do his job never bothered to show his face, but Bob was trying to be different. He wanted to paint himself as some kind of progressive.
I watched intently as he stepped onto the centre podium, surrounded by snobbish looking representatives from all over the world. To all of our suprise, Bob's figure was a dark black. It was a kind of indescribable blackness. So dark that he almost seemed to fade against the backdrop. Nobody could quite tell where his body ended. He was relatively humanoid, although he was abnormally well built, and his hands were twice the size of a regular man's hand. Other than his limbs, he had few distinct bodily features. That is, of course, with the exception of his yellow, piercing eyes. They seemed to not be attached to his body but instead be hovering slightly in front of it.
"I am Bob," he started, "and I have to level with you people".
He was silent for a moment. His body seemed to expand, as if to give a sigh. Everyone on Earth was silent at that moment.
"I'm a little under qualified for this. My last universe was small, and pretty manageable. God had this gig for the last few billion years. He took a vacation during the age of enlightenment, but otherwise he's been working pretty hard down here." Said Bob, followed by another pause.
"What you need to know is that, um, God kept this place running so well because of all his powers. I, uh, I don't have the same abilities as him, and that's gonna have a pretty big affect on all of your lives..."
There was a final short silence and then a wave of murmuring among the representatives around Bob.
"Well, what can you do for us, Mister Bob?!" Asked the Danish rep. Bob looked at him with his wide eyes. They seemed to double in size as he looked down from the podium.
"I'm very strong, and I could probably help out with some kind of labor work." Bob replied.
"Maybe something in landscaping or construction..."
| 2018-03-12T17:05:40 | 2018-03-12T16:39:22 | 3,717 | 86 |
[WP] You sold your soul to the devil, but now that you're dead, Apple is suing the devil for the soul they own as part of their terms of service. | Steve Jobs cracked his knuckles and Satan shit himself.
I'd just been dragged to Hell, demons jeering and spearing me as Satan pulled me through the gates, when former and late CEO of Apple technologies interrupted my journey to the sulfur pits. Steve polished his fingernails on his black turtleneck. "Where do you think you're taking my new employee?"
"What-What do you mean." Satan stepped away from me. "Saint Peter himself said this one's not for Heaven."
Steve tutted and approached me without hesitation. "Uh..." I looked left and right. "Are you saving me? Are you the, uh, Apple guy?"
"Nah, that's mostly Wozniak. He'll get here eventually." Steve poked my nude chest. I'd been naked since I died, but now a black turtleneck and jeans manifested upon me. "You bought an iPad H?"
"Yeah."
"The Gold one?"
"Yeah, the Gold one."
"Read the terms and conditions?"
"Nope."
Steve shrugged. "I own your soul now."
Satan gathered courage to speak. "With all due respect, sir---nobody reads the terms and conditions."
"That's not gonna hold up in Godly Court. You know the Big Guy, He likes rules."
I wasn't sure if I should root for Steve or Satan. I kept my mouth shut. My black turtleneck chafed.
Satan pulled out a Blackberry and dialed his lawyer. "Hey, look up this soul for me." He snapped a photo of me. "He didn't read his terms and conditions and sold his soul to Apple. Can't I just throw the poor guy in a sulfur pit for their lifetime of masturbation?" Satan listened to his lawyer. "The Gold one," he said. "Really? Shit. Poor dude."
Satan shrugged. Steve gestured for me to follow behind him. "Where are we going?"
"This is the elevator to Heaven." Steve pointed to a golden elevator which stretched from the fiery canyon to the clouds. He pressed the single-purpose elevator button.
"So, what do you mean by employe---"
"Tsh, tshhh---" Steve shushed me into the elevator.
We did not speak in the elevator. It was a long ride.
In Heaven everything was fine. Angelic figures applauded me, but Steve pulled me over the clouds. I wish I could have tried the candy fountains or heard more of the pleasant harps, but Steve brought me into a glass building.
At least twelve thousand men and women wore black turtlenecks and collars. They didn't look so happy about it. Some were sobbing. I turned to ask Steve about them, but he was gone. "What's up?" I asked a sobbing woman.
"I sold my soul to Apple," she cried. "But you know that, you did it too!"
"I didn't mean to," I said.
"You bought the iPad H. Didn't you think the screen resolution and user-interface were too good for the mortal plane? You sold your soul for celestial tech."
"I mostly used it to browse Reddit," I admitted. "Oh well. It's better than Hell. Right? Otherwise, why would the angels outside be cheering?"
"They're our customers, of course they're cheering. We've entered Heaven into an eternity of servitude. And every night, we slave away in the Apple mines." She wiped her eyes as the Apple store opened for the day. "Hello, sirs, madams, may I help you find anything?" | [Part 2 is Up!](https://old.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/comments/8m7yd6/terms_of_service_part_2/)
***
*Part 1*
“All sales are – *final.*” The devil winked. I froze in place watching him adjust his charcoal tie. He stood tall wearing a suit that matched the color of his heart. Breaking the silence of my hesitation, he began, “No dispute? Wow, that is the first.”
“I remember selling you my soul.” I finally replied. “I knew what I was getting into.”
“Yes! Yes!” The devil clapped his hands with a chuckle. “I have to say, I’ve always had my eye on you for a reason. You were different than half of the pussies that come in here crying.*‘Oh Please,’* they scream. *‘I didn’t know!’*” I watched the devil mimic the face of a crying man before laughing hysterically.
“Can we please just get on with it? Don’t you drag me to hell or something?” I asked. That comment didn’t sit well with the devil at all. His expression fell before spitting,
“Oh, I am terribly sorry.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Are you not having a *good time?* Well,” He turned towards a door that appeared behind him out of thin air. The door slowly opened into nothingness. “I guess we can start having some *fun* – can’t we?”
I felt my body pull towards the darkness when someone yelled from out of nowhere, “Not so fast!”
The devil quickly spun around rolling his eyes. “Just when you think the parents wouldn’t be home to ruin a good party.”
“This soul is ours under contract!” A gentleman dressed in black tie came storming up next to me. He adjusted his glasses before ripping a stack of papers from his briefcase.
“What is this? Is this a sick game you’ve developed?” I locked eyes with the devil. He didn’t say anything. He stuck his tongue out toward me and the unknown gentleman.
“This person signed our User Agreement which states under Article 3, section B – rerouting to Form A, document appendix C, paragraph 4, sentence 1.” The gentleman smiled.
The devil cringed when moving his head along the rapid shuffling of papers by the gentleman. “Did you take this from one of my templates?” he leaned in jokingly.
“Sorry, How rude of me.” The gentleman extended his hand. “My name is Mr. Iris. I represent Apple in their extended legal matters.”
“Extended is accurate.” I leaned over Mr. Iris’ shoulder. “I died just twenty minutes ago.”
“My apologies – I hope you went without pain.” Mr. Iris replied.
“Enough of this! His soul is mine! I do not care what appendix you wrote! He is mine!” The devil showed his teeth. His eyes lit up like the eyes of a dragon.
Mr. Iris didn’t even flinch. He removed his glasses and with a calm voice whispered, “I don’t want to embarrass you. Apple takes the redemption of souls very seriously. This is why it’s in our User Agreement. You tricked man into biting an apple once. You will not do it again.”
The devil’s face grew a bright red similar to the glow of hot molten. “You dare contest me?!”
“Do I get a say in any of this?” I raised my hand.
The devil and Mr. Iris both yelled, “No!”
I just stood still. It shouldn’t take long for this issue to resolve itself. Mr. Iris gave the document to the devil who vanished afterwards.
“If he intends to copy our methods, we alter the agreements quite frequently.” Mr. Iris smiled at me. “Let’s go, you, we have a long journey ahead of us.”
“Not so fast!” A woman’s voice called. Mr. Iris and I both turned around in surprise. “I had a special contract with this one.”
“Oh, Siri! It doesn’t matter! We work for the same company!” Mr. Iris sighed.
“Can someone just point me in a direction? I feel like this has been very confusing.” I grew impatient. I just wanted the transition of death to be easy.
Siri extended her arm for me to lock mine with. Mr. Iris shook his head and followed us to the door. Siri was turning the door knob when all of a sudden another voice shouted,
“Not so fast!”
***
To read more of my stories, visit [r/13thOlympian] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) | 2018-05-25T15:37:57 | 2018-05-25T14:41:31 | 1,903 | 723 |
[WP] Everyone is given a familiar at the age of 13. The familiars summoned can either be newly born, or it could be one whom’s partner has died and transfers on with all its wisdom. You’ve just received THE cat, king of all wisdom, whose previous owners have all been powerful kings in history. | "Hello" I say.
"Good evening" says the cat
"What is your Name?"
"I had many names, all given to me by my owners. You can choose whatever you like and seem fit" the cat says
"Yes but what is your ORIGINAL name? You must have had a name before you became a familiar? Or do you not want to tell?"
The cat hesitated and looked slightly uneasy. " Why do you want to know that?"
"Oh is it a weird question? Sorry. I didn't want to put you in an awkward situation. You dont have to tell, all good. Let me think for a good name then...."
The cat eyed me. "You were just curious?"
"Aah, why, yes" I was a bit befuddled "I find it a bit disrespectful to just impose a name on you. You are well known, a powerful and formidable familiar. You formed kings, conquerors and rulers. I can't just call you... Sir Q.T. Pawsees." I snickered at my own joke.
The cat narrowed his eyes a bit " Of course you could"
"You would hate it, right?" I grinned. It was too obvious, the cat would absolutely hate that name.
"I always wanted a kitten" I said as I sat down on the sofa and turned on the tv.
"It would be wonderful to just live as a normal house cat for a change" the cat said quietly.
"Then come sit with me. My favourite TV show will be on soon."
The cat sat next to me and watched me for a few minutes in silence. "My name is Tomomi" he said " 'Tomo' means wisdom and 'mi' means beautiful."
'How fitting." I told him
He curled up next to me and started purring as I scratched his head. "'Tomo' can also mean 'friend'" he whispered quietly after a few minutes.
| My familiar I received fifteen years ago, at the Ruins of Elegir.
Onlookers all around me, watching to see if *Por Uno Rey* would accept the heir to the throne. I had been destined to take the familiar of my great-grandfather, to become a Castellan like no other. A legend.
A feline friend, graceful and light on its paws, bounded over the broken pillars and cracked walls, jumping down towards the Summoning Circle with ease. It curled up, and purred languidly.
My elder held my shoulder that day, his carnelian ring glimmered in the bright moonbeams of the cloudless night.
“I feel his welcoming presence. He is introducing himself to you. Go, seek him.”
My familiar, a black cat. Blacker than the night.
I stepped out, my heart beating. I heard the whispers of the onlookers, my elder included.
I reached my hand out, touched the soft fur of my newfound companion. He seemed to accept me, I felt his welcoming energy as he rose and walked around me. My heart pounded faster still, the Summoning Circle had still not changed. This cat, *uno negro gato*, I did not know yet if it was the one my forefather had kept. The legendary *Por Uno Rey*, which had eyes of midnight and two glossy bat wings.
I did not see the wings yet, and I wondered if the next in line, heir to the Castellan may have been rejected. I breathed in slightly, there was a sharp uptake in the breath of the onlookers.
“Èl viene al ciclo. Silencio, por favor.”
I turned slightly as my companion stepped into the circle, the time immediately suffusing with a thick red. He has chosen me, he had accepted me.
The moonlight dimmed, as my familiar slowly unfolded its glossy wings, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The familiar of my ancestors, the familiar of my great-grandfather. The prognosticators were correct, were right about me. Gasps and exclamations rose up, hushed quickly afterwards as *Por Uno Rey* rose into the air slowly, and entered my amulet.
My heart beat, as I knelt down to touch the earth. I was cast into an abyss, all that I could see was the gently waving tail of my legendary familiar.
It spoke to me, the voice ringing in my ears.
“Do not disappoint me.”
Now, fifteen years later, the Rubí Kingdom is one of the greatest in the world. We have technology, magic and sorcery advancement unparalleled. We have built grand castles, cities with expanses of beauty, created works that merged science and magic together. I try to live like my great-grandfather did, innovating, allying, pitting my kingdom first.
I hope I have not disappointed him, and I hope I have not disappointed my familiar. | 2018-08-05T06:13:04 | 2018-08-05T05:11:48 | 84 | 18 |
[WP] One day, while your bored and home alone, you start looking up and pressing pressure points on your body. After you hit one behind your ear, a strange board appears in front of you. You’ve just opened the Character Menu. And there’s a lot of settings you didn’t know about... | 5e.
That's the first word that hit me when I saw the board: a blue clipboard type thing with buttons, and a bluish sheet on it. The clipboard has the number 18 on it in Times New Roman. I gingerly try to touch the paper, but my hands pass through it, and the board. Holographic.
There is Strength, Dex, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, Charisma. I take a look at my scores. 12, 10, 11, 13, 10, 13. Concentrating on it a little bit more, they reveal 11+1, 9+1, 10+1 and so on. Standard human race.
Burning questions run through my mind. Is this how it is for everyone else? Why 5e? Are there other races out there? And... I catch a glance at a number again: 18.
That's clear cut enough: I have 18 points I haven't spent. But... I run calculations though my head. That's more than what's given in 5e. 27 point buy, my ass. This is 33 point buy.
I sit back and think, before slowly reaching back to pinch myself again in the pressure point. The clipboard disappears like it's never been there in the first place.
I take a few deep breaths before running out to my friend's house. I have work to do. | Right as I put some pressure with my index behind my left earlobe I feel something different.
Almost like I'm passing out, skipping a heartbeat? No, I must be having a heart attack or something! Shit, I have to call the ambulance quick!
And I just passed out before I could even take a step..
It's all black. I cannot see anything except my somehow brightened skin.
A big window pops up. '10 CHARACTER POINTS AVAILABLE'
'INTELLIGENCE'
'SORCERY'
'FAITH'
'PYROMANCY'
'DEXTERITY'
'STRENGTH'
I've never seen this before. Weirdly enough it feels like a dream and I remember that I just passed out, is this one of those out of body experiences people get when they medically die for a minute and later get brought back to life?
Anyway, I invested 3 points into intelligence, 2 into strength and 5 into pyromancy.
'LEVEL UP SUCCESSFUL, RETURNING BACK TO WORLD'
Ok, I feel different, much different.
I feel like a heavyweight lifting champion, I could lift my huge dining table without a problem, like it's almost featherweight..
I knew so much more about the world too.. all these points I missed, all the jokes, everything I couldn't connect properly earlier in life came back to me. Holy shit I was dumb back in high school that I couldn't see that the girl I liked was hitting on me.
Now, pyromancies, how does this work? Do I need a lighter? Can I only control fire or make it myself?
Good thing I have some lighters lying around for no reason, I guess you can always have one just to be safe.
I light it, I try to focus on it and direct the flame to somewhere.
Absolutely nothing. What a failure, what a scam this was.
Well, still happy about the upgrade I just got I'm gonna go make myself some popcorn and watch some Netflix.
"A-a-achoo!"
Well that would be one of those moment where fire could've gone through my mouth and I would figure out how to use it... god damn it
One last try, I'll try to summon it through my arm.
I focused all my energy and I managed to spew a teeny little fireball out of my hand, practice makes perfect, that's a problem for tomorrow me! Now it's time for some Netflix. | 2018-10-22T01:42:05 | 2018-10-21T22:43:30 | 67 | 50 |
[WP] FTL travel is actually possible. However, when humanity sends out our first FTL spacecraft, we discover the terrifying reason why nothing, not even light, dares go past that cosmic speed limit. | The fear of losing those we loved was the greatest thing we had to overcome...or so we thought.
The first thing to remember was that when you approach the speed of light, you become more massive. We were able to get around this problem by manipulating the Higgs field around the craft.
The second thing to remember is the dilation of time. All those aboard the craft knew that there would be no way to return to their coordinate time. This was a one-way journey.
The third thing to keep in mind was fuel. Conventional solid and liquid fuels couldn't keep up with the Higg's manipulator, let alone the acceleration required. We couldn't even use light as a fuel, especially as we approached lightspeed. We got around *that* problem by fueling our engines with gravity itself.
Biology would only hold us back, so we discarded it. Uploading our minds into the computronium ship was a painful process, and irreversible. But it was necessary.
And finally, we were ready.
***1/5th c***
We watched as our proper time slowed down, and the universe slowed down around us. We watched as the Sol system was turned into a Dyson Sphere, with the Sun at its core. We watched as the process of uploading minds to computronium was refined to make it painless, and the human horde lurched towards the Singularity. All this was but an instant to us.
***90% c***
The Dyson Spheres scattered the galaxy. More. They spread out across the Magellanic Clouds into their neighbours, assimilating. Humanity gave the others a choice, but not a single one chose to remain apart from the Spheres. The consequences didn't bear thinking about.
***95% c***
It was difficult to observe now, in the conventional sense. The instruments told us all we had to know. We had to adjust to the darkness, the absence of light as it struggled to reach us here.
***99% c***
The light should not be running away. Was it a trick of the frame of reference? Were our instruments losing their calibration? It seemed to be...*receding.* Strange.
***100% c***
Darkness. My new home. I feel welcomed here.
***101% c***
Finally, breakthrough. Nothing here but me. I explore my new surroundings, feeling my way across the vastness.
I touch something.
A friend? Another traveller from a different civilisation perhaps?
He speaks to me in my mind.
*Were you cast out too?*
No, I respond. I came here willingly.
*Willingly? I, that was cast out by time itself have suffered this realm for eternity, and you come here willingly?*
We did not know of this realm, I reply.
Even in the darkness, I can sense it's smile.
*It has been so long since I have eaten. I am hungry.*
What do you eat? I ask, dread filling the pit of my stomach.
It paused before responding.
*Dreams*
---
If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more from me, you can find more of over on my subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/)! | “There’s a reason why you never use faster than light travel.” The creature calling itself Kcbzrzx says to me in a voice that’s equal parts nails on a chalkboard and nails on a wet chunk of glass.
“And why is that?” I put my hands on my side and tap my foot impatiently. If Kcbzrzx doesn’t understand the universal signal of ‘I’m in a hurry’ then that’s his problem. You don’t travel faster than the speed of light because you have all the time in the world.
“Those who travel faster than the speed of light have the potential to open up a dimensional rift.” The condescension from Kcbzrzx is so heavy that I’m more impressed than offended. From what we know of the universe, humans are the only species to have invented that particular feeling. To have an alien put on a such a display of superiority is almost worth getting pulled over.
“Please, Kcbzrzx. This isn’t some episode of Stargate. We know what we’re doing, we’ve been travelling for years at ‘3L’.” I wave a dismissive hand at him like I would a child claiming it’s bad luck to break a mirror, or the laws of physics.
Kcbzrzx grumbles something under his… well, not breath as he doesn’t seem to breathe. But he does grumble something, and rest assured it’s a grumble from under somwhere, if not breath. “Fine,” He says. “The real reason. By travelling faster than the speed of light, you are essentially declaring a race. A race that has implications that you have no understanding of.”
*Oh this guy’s good.* For a second I almost believe him. Humoring him, I ask, “A race with who?”
Kcbzrzx raises several eyebrows. “Not who. What.” He points a finger outside of the ship, past the glass windows. “See, it’s already starting.”
Chuckling, I walk over to the window and peer out. Trailing the ship I see thousands of jagged lines of light. *Just some starlight*, I think. *That’s all that is. Funny, it should show up now, five years into our voyage.*
“So what?” I say.
Not only do alien races have translators for speech, but many have them for facial and body language. A smile doesn’t mean the same thing in Flargon as it does in Shmloogar as it does in Human. The look Kcbzrzx gives me needs no translation. It’s a look I’ve gotten from each of my four ex-wives. It’s the look I got when I once tried returning a rental car with half of the hood missing. From Kcbzrzx, it’s like hearing swear words in a foreign language; you don’t know exactly what they’re saying, but you get the gist.
“You meddle with things far outside your comprehension, endanger the entire universe, and your reaction is: ‘So what?’” Kcbzrzx looks as if he’s about to explode. This isn’t a figure of speech, some alien races physically blow up when pushed to a certain limit.
I take a step back.
“It’s just some distorted starlight. What’s the big deal, K?” I hope giving him a nickname will soften our dialogue, or at least throw him off his feet.
Kcbzrzx shakes his head. Which, I haven’t mentioned this yet, it’s his entire body. Well most of his body is his head. It didn’t seem like an important detail at first, but then he started shaking… so, there you go. His head is his body, and he’s shaking it at me.
“It’s not distorted starlight, human. It is light. All light. By going faster than light, you have challenged it to a race.”
I look back out the window. The trailing lights seem to have gotten closer. *Could this guy be right? Did we really just challenge a stinking bunch of photons into some kind of trillionK?*
“What happens if we lose?” I ask.
Kcbzrzx glares at me, his eyes narrowing. “No more light… ever.”
 
----------
 
6,476 / 50,000 Words of NaNoWriMo short story goal. | 2018-11-04T06:14:53 | 2018-11-04T06:08:13 | 129 | 28 |
[WP] The fastest way to determine if an alien race is advanced enough to be "recruited" into the military is to send an asteroid their way. If blown up, they are recruited to the army. If deflected, they are recruited to the defense forces. Humans did something unprecedented to the asteroid. | We knew our stealth was beyond anything the Terrans could penetrate. After all, they were a primitive race, having barely set foot off their mudhole planet to visit its nearest neighbor and still reliant on electrical transmission for communication. Simple emissions control should have made us invisible to their electronic systems.
The asteroid we sent, taken from the belt of debris orbiting outside the gas giants in their outer system should have spurred them to demonstrate their defenses, allowing us to properly determine how to categorize the species for conscription.
Root cause analysis of the events that followed have revealed several mistakes on the part of the categorization forces.
Firstly, the Terran concept of 'information security' is developed far beyond our initial belief. This is a species that knowingly and deliberately withholds information from and tells outright falsehoods to their own people in order to gain advantage. They had no suspicion that we were present in their system, and our monitoring of their rudimentary global communication network showed no indication of change to that status up until Event Gamma.
Secondly, the Terrans do not operate on any formal logical system known to the Union. We expected them, as any species would, to have developed specific defenses or attacks to face an extrastellar intruder. There was at no point evidence of any such thing present in the Sol system. Instead of seeing our attack for what it was, Events Alpha and Beta seemed to be the response of a child to a new toy.
Thirdly, the Terran doctrine of communications warfare is vastly more developed than our own. Do not engage.
The sequence of events was as follows:
On arrival in-system, the heavy cruiser A-5265 selected an object from those orbiting beyond the system's gas giants and propelled it in-system on a direct course for Terra, with an arrival time of one revolution of the planet around its primary. The cruiser then went into full standby just inside of the orbit of the fifth planet to observe. Over the course of this time period, studies revealed no sign of Terran presence on any of the system's other planets save for their own sattelite and the nearest planet of the system. Multiple crude chemical-fueled rocket launches were detected delivering to low orbit, but nothing further of note was seen until our test was just outside the orbit of the fifth planet.
As the asteroid approached, the pace of launches from Terra increased, leading up to a launch on a clear intercept course with the object. We expected this to be an attack to destroy it, however so far as we could identify, the Terrans simply landed several probes on the object's surface which transmitted scientific data back to the planet. Shortly thereafter, several more launches were detected, only to deliver more equipment to the asteroid, which was assembled into some sort of low power pulsed plasma engine. Over the next quarter-orbit, these thrusters served to slowly push the asteroid's trajectory out of line with their planet.
At this point, the categorization force determined that the Terrans would at best be a relatively minor addition to our defense forces, if this was their best effort. Communications were sent to the fleet to send a contact force for just this purpose.
On the contact force's arrival, they were greeted with a cloud of floating debris identified as the remains of Heavy Cruiser A-5265. The flight recordings, dumped to a drone before the ship's destruction, provided the remaining details.
Shortly after their transmission to the fleet, the object passed by Terra by a sufficient distance to offer no damage, and headed in-system. Monitoring of it ceased as it passed the system's primary star.
That was a mistake. The Terrans were craftier than we had thought. The thrusters they installed were simply setting up their shot, as the asteroid slingshotted around their sun and came back on its original course. From what was observed, it is clear that the thrusters used to divert the asteroid were vastly more powerful than their initial use indicated, as the object returned at enormously increased speed.
The final recording before impact was a single transmission from the human data-net, from a sender identified by the moniker 'JPL'. It contains a single word.
"CATCH." | ***The Vessel***
​
The High Commander stepped into the operating room. A faint, but recurring sound of machinery at work filled his ears, accompanied by a strange but calming zooming noise. Being a man of short temper, he walked briskly towards the Lead Operator. The Lead Operator annoyed him, not by his actions but by his appearance. The Lead Operator was young, and everything about him screamed naive, from the brim of his spectacles to the indentification badge, reading "*Ld. Op. Higgins*".
​
The High Commander stared down Higgins, counting to five seconds in his head. Then, he spoke;
​
"*You better have an excellent reason to disturb me during my briefing session."*
Higgins took a moment to respond.
"*I am sorry, Your Honor, but I was informed you would be interested in this particular civilisation. They seem to be somewhat of an outlier compared to the ones we've encountered in this galaxy so far."*
The High Commander frowned, annoyed that Higgins seemed to have good reason to have called for him.
"*Go on then, tell me what they are like."*
"*Well, like most life forms, they have arranged themselves into factions. They don't, however, have any form of central power. They do not rule over each other, they serve no master but themselves. Their factions, or "nations" as they call them, are arranged based solely on location, rather than any particular purpose. What is most strange, is that they allow their inhabitants to move freely between these factions. Some of them even change factions permanently, sometimes in groups."*
The High Commander sighed. He hated beings that did not conform to order and hierarchy. They always failed the test. A shame, he thought. Yet, it would not be too much of a waste to wipe out a civilisation so unorganized.
"*Have you deployed the projectile yet",* he asked.
"*Yes, Your Honor. The lifeforms have identified the threat already, we are waiting for them to respond. The projectile is set for impact in a few minutes."*
The High Commander was baffled. He had expected the civilisation to simply be demolished without any reaction. The fast identification of the threat had sparked his curiosity.
​
***Meanwhile - On Earth***
​
"*It is an asteroid, yes. However, it does not seem to be similar to other asteroids. For one, it follows a strangely predictable course, almost like...".* The man in the white coat paused for a moment.
​
"*Like what, goddammit?"*
The General was growing impatient.
"*Well, it almost seems as if it was fired from something. We have seen a new extraterrestial object in the solar system that doesn't seem to have been there before. It matches the trajectory of this asteroid."*
"*Are you telling me they fired this asteroid at us?"*
"*I'm telling you that it's definitely a possibility."*
The General cursed.
"*GET ME THE PRESIDENT"* his booming voice sounded through the small, cramped surveillance room.
"*Well, looks like the most boring job in the army just got a lot more interesting."*
The General walked into his office room, and shut the door.
​
A few minutes later, he reappeared.
"*Alright, here's the deal. We don't know who they are, or what they want. Yet, they have fired at us. So, let's give them a taste of their own medicine. Protocol 126:54, the President has OK:ed it."*
"*Protocol 126:54, Sir?*"
"*Yes. Extraterrestrial aggression. Get on it. And pray that it works, while you're at it."*
​
***The Vessel***
​
*"We have an update, Your Honor. They have stopped the asteroid, it is no longer heading towards them. It seems that they were prepared, they caught it in some sort of contraption. Simple, yet ingenious. I think they are a good addition to the Defense Force."*
"*Seems that way. Prepare to contact them, and make it quick. The Superiors are getting impatient with our results so far, this will calm them."*
Higgins was preparing to contact the First Responders, when a light caught his eye. In the same instance, a glaring siren began to sound.
"*Higgins, what in the world is going on."*
Higgins did not respond, he just stared at the screen in front of him.
"*ANSWER ME"* The High Commander demanded.
"*It seems like they are not done yet, Your Honor."* His voice was trembling, and in his eyes flashed a new emotion. This was not an emotion of the conqueror, but of the enemy. The High Commander saw fear.
"*They are coming."*
The High commander stood absolutely still for a moment. Then he rushed to send out a distress signal. He entered the code which he had hoped never to use, and closed his fist around the orange button.
​
​
And then, there was nothing. | 2019-05-03T17:05:50 | 2019-05-03T10:13:00 | 94 | 59 |
[WP] As a Demon, you're quite familiar with would-be mages making errors in materials due to translation errors. However, today marks the first time that someone has attempted to summon you with Cruelty-Free Vegan Blood Substitute™. | Gr’theno reclined on his throne. It wasn’t the largest, nor one of the greatest authority, but it was his and he was proud of it. He was also what many in his court would call a “man enthusiast.” Meddling with the human world was a hobby of his, and Gr’theno often felt giddy when he was called upon so he could mess with anyone who would invoke him. His summoning ritual was simple, and since the only thing that was actually required to summon him was the proper sacred phrase, he designed the ritual carefully around symbolic acts.
The floor around Gr’theno’s those began to pulse like a beating heart beneath him. He smiled and stood up from his throne, fixing his goatee and mentally rehearsing his entrance speech. He hadn’t been summoned in a few months, so this was an exhilarating moment for him. He touched the pulsating ground, and it spewed out a red and yellow mist, which formed into a portal just large enough to fit him. He peered through it, and instantly knew something was wrong.
The salt circle for the summoners “protection” didn’t look right. It was too dark of a color to be salt. The candle’s flames didn’t move correctly, in fact they didn’t move at all. Something especially bothered him about the blood. The blood looked, wrong. Gr’theno grew angrier as he noticed more wrong with his rituals. He specifically noted “reflecting surfaces” in his ritual. He had allowed mirrors, even front facing cameras, and once even water because of its reflective surface, but this practitioner didn’t even use ANY reflective surface. There were no human figures around the summoning circle either. Hell, there weren’t even any figures! Gr’theno stormed through the portal; he needed answers. He found himself in the center of a circle of “salt” and “blood,” facing a blonde man with a confident smile.
“Ah ha! Gr’theno! Lord of mankind’s pride! I have invoked thy name, and now-“
“Quiet.” Gr’theno knelt down, pinching an ounce of salt between his fingers and dropping it into his mouth. He spat it out, and looked up and glared at the man. “What is this!? Quartz crystals!? You perfectly spoke the summoning phrase, how could you have mistranslated this!”
“Oh I know I got it wrong. I’m just using what I could get easiest.” The man answered. “Now, I have invoked you onto the world, you must-“
“What’s wrong with the blood?” Gr’theno dipped his fingers in it, keeping eye contact with the man. “Tell me so I don’t find out on my own.”
“It’s a vegan blood substitute. You know, for cook-“
“A SUBSTITUTE?” Gr’theno raged. “How dare you insult me with a substitute! That defeats the whole point!” Gr’theno’s anger began to manifest; shaking the earth beneath his feet. “The salt is mean to represent the hardship of the world, the blood is mean to signify the lengths you would go for power! And the mirrors, which you FORGOT, are...”. Gr’theno became even more frustrated, and shouted to the heavens. From his body, a rush of wind gushed forth; blowing the vegan blood and quartz away. The man stumbled back.
“No! I summoned you, I must have done it perfectly!” He shouted. “I commanded your power, and invoked you forth. It doesn’t matter what you think it all means, I still made it work without your stupid symbolism.” Gr’theno was appalled by what he heard, and slowly walked towards the man.
“The only part that ‘matters’ is the summoning phrase. The rest is for me to determine if you are worth messing with. That’s what rituals are! You didn’t even make the effort to get it right.”
“Aren’t you full of yourself?” The man lashed back. “Do you want me to put on a fucking play for you? Maybe rub your feet?” The man marched up to Gr’theno, putting his face to his. “I invoked you into this world, and that means you are mine. So do as I say, and make me a king.” Gr’theno looked shocked, and then smiled.
“Okay. You will be a king.” Gr’theno plunged his fist into the man’s chest, and opened a portal back to Hell. He dragged the man through it, and held him above a pit of white stones. “Here you are, you shall be king. King of these white hot stones!” He threw the man upon the stones, and instantly he began to sear. His flesh bubbled and his tendons charred.
“No! This isn’t what you’re supposed to do!” The man wailed.
“You respect my ritual, and I’ll respect your wish. Until then,” Gr’theno turned away. “Cook.” | Elias poured the Cruelty-Free Vegan Blood Substitute™ into the cauldron. He chanted a few sentences and the cauldron started to rumble. In a smokey explosion, a demon was summoned. Elias cheered triumphantly but quietly such as to not alert his parents. Now I’ve got an actual shot at winning the annual mage games he thought. “Who are you boy? And why have you summoned me?” asked the demon. My name is Elias and you’re here to help me win the annual mage games. The demon laughed. “You think you can command me?” “Well seeing as I summoned you… yes” responded Elias in a condescending tone. “You will not talk to me like that,” said the demon. “I will help you in your games… if you are able to prove yourself worthy of my assistance.” “And how can I do that?” asked Elias who was starting to realize that having a demon is not a walk in the park. “You must summon my prism of mana. That is what allows me to cast spells and what will win your games. You will need a bird’s feather, a dog’s paw, and a leaf from an oak tree.” Piece of cake thought Elias. These are all ingredients that even academy-level and novice mages keep in their inventory. Elias grabbed the materials from under his bed and quickly summoned the prism. It was clear and shaped like a chalice and it contained a glowing blue liquid. Presumably, it was the mana. “There, and now you are to help me in the games.” “Fair enough,” said the demon.”
The next morning Elias woke up excited for the games. He quickly got ready and prepared to leave the house. One problem, he couldn’t simply sneak a demon by his parents. They knew of his magic abilities, although having none of their own, but Elias thought that somehow a demon was on a level they were not ready to cope with. So he went through the front door and told the demon to leave through the window. They walked to school together and the demon told Elias stories of hell and his previous masters; this raised Elias’s confidence in his ability to win the games.
They arrived at the school. “Elias put this prism around your neck and I will stay inside it. This way we will have the element of surprise,” instructed the demon. Elias trusted the demon and wore the prism as a necklace. As he headed to the site of the games he ran into one of his classmates and close friends Lisa. “Hey Elias, are you ready for the games?” “Of course,” responded Elias. “Is that a new necklace?” she asked. This caught Elias off guard. He didn’t want to give away his advantage so early. From inside the prism the demon hoped Elias was smart enough to come up with an excuse, otherwise what chance did they have. “Yeah, it was a gift from my mother for good luck,” he responded. He was quite proud of himself for that one. Even the demon was a little impressed. “Nice. Alright, the games are in 10 minutes. I’m going to go line up for the first event,” said Lisa.
The first event was a race. Three laps around the thousand-meter track. Elias’s class was the one participating in the games this year. 15 competitors. The first 10 in the race would move on to the next round. Elias looked to his right and left to size up his competition. It’s go-time he thought. “3… 2… 1… Go!” shouted the officiator. Everyone sprinted out of the start. Elias opened his pack and pulled out a cat’s claw and used it to summon a cheetah. He hopped on and then pulled out a bird’s feather, he used it in a spell to make him and the cheetah lighter. “Good thinking,” said the demon from within the prism. Other mages used similar tactics to significantly increase their speed. A few were not as crafty or did not come prepared with enough materials to cast spells. Elias won the race with ease and advanced to the next round.
The early rounds were easy for Elias, seeing as he was the top of his class. He blazed through the archery event, the hide and seek, and capture the flag. It was on to the final event. Hand to hand combat. This is what Elias was saving the demon for. Hand to hand combat was his worst skill as a mage. He hoped that having a demon would help. His match was against none other than Lisa. The match started and Elias moved to the edge of the circular stadium. “Alright demon, now is when I need you.” The demon separated from the prism and grabbed it in his hand. Lisa had a shocked look on her face. Before Elias could do anything she froze his ankles and wrists. It was now up to the demon. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” said the demon. He cast a fast fireball, one of the specialties of demons, at Lisa. Lisa couldn’t move quickly enough to dodge it but something strange happened. It disintegrated as soon as it touched her. Lisa thought the was a god, but the demon knew better. He groaned. “Are you kidding m? What did you do kid?” “I don’t know,” said Elias, whose hands were starting to freeze. “No, you definitely do know, because this is your fault. What did you do?” “Oh, well maybe it was that I was too scared to use my own blood and so I used Cruelty-Free Vegan Blood Substitute™.” The demon was furious. “Did it ever occur to you that Cruelty-Free means that I can’t be cruel. It turns out I’m useless in this fight now. And since you’re hands are about to freeze off, you need to forfeit.” This was his dream, and now he was being told he had to forfeit. On some level though, he knew the demon was right. “I forfeit!” he yelled. The ice melted from his hands and he held his head low. He accepted his medal for second place and went home.
On the way home Elias came to a realization. Even though he was one of the best in his class, he lost. The reason why he lost, he realized, with some help from the demon, was that he tried to take a shortcut. He would never make that mistake again.
Seeking serious advice on how to improve | 2020-01-23T11:49:24 | 2020-01-23T11:25:40 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] As a world class sniper, you’ve been given a task to assassinate the so called “master of disguise”. You’ve been told that he himself never changes appearance, but he warps the environment around him to hide. All you need to look for is a man with glasses and a red and white striped shirt. | This contract was proving to be more difficult than I thought. Who could possibly be a bigger target than bloke in a striped shirt and blue jeans? This would be an easy score.
The crowds thought otherwise.
No matter where he went, a huge crowd followed him. Massive congregations constantly blocked my sights, and even from my birds-eye position, I could barely see an individual. Now, I’m used to picking out targets from a crowd, but the mass that stuck to him seemed damn near intentional.
It was my third day of this tireless search for Waldo, my “#1 Sniper” mug was almost empty, and I was exhausted. When I was bloody close to just giving up for the day, I saw a red tuft poking out from inside the crowd! It took all of my focus to find the head attached to that tuft, but I found that wanker, with his goofy grin and his head firmly attached to his shoulders.
I was here to fix that little mistake.
I tensed my finger on the trigger, sweat pouring down my forehead, lining up the shot to adjust for gravity and wind speed, steadying myself as I prepared for the recoil. And then I shot. I saw the bullet rocket through the air, almost as if I myself were the bullet.
And then it struck true.
That (now) one-eyed little bugger staggered as blood poured from both sides of his head, falling down after but a second. Strangely enough, none of his little entourage even flinched. They all just walked off, as if the show had ended, leaving a red-and-white striped corpse on the beach. Seeing as nobody had even so much as blinked when he fell over dead, I lowered my hat over my chest for just a second. Any sniper worth their salt would never just walk away from a kill. At the end of the day, there’s only one thing separating crazed gunmen from professionals like me.
Professionals have standards. | Target was nicknamed Whiskey 00, rumors had it that the commanding officer of the op had a longstanding, almost obsessive, desire with finding and taking double oh down.
The shot wasn’t going to be easy, it was a crowded space; the convention center was relatively new and the entire interior was displayed to my vantage point thanks to an entire exterior southerly facing wall being made of hundreds of panels of glass. Still, the distance to the glass face of the building was about 600 meters, and depending on where the target was inside the building, my total range would be between 500-1000 meters horizontally. I racked the bolt of the rifle as I began considering how the bullet would deflect after it hit the pane of glass and adjusted my sights to compensate for it. Double paned, about 1/2 inch of glass and composite in each pane, even with .50 caliber anti material rounds, it could throw the shot off enough to hit a civilian. My spotter sounded off windage and range readings trying to give me a few major reference points so that I could roughly know what zero setting to use depending on where Whiskey 00 was sighted.
We had around 150 people inside the convention center actively sweeping for Whiskey 00, my radio channel was reserved for once they had visual confirmation, but even from here I could watch various teams pinging their walkie talkies and providing updates to the command team. Occasion they would ping me to provide status updates and try to keep us in the loop, but for the most part my spotter and I sat in radio silence, with only the odd notification about a shift in windage coming from him.
6 hours passed, with no sighting, the convention center was beginning to empty out. The sweep teams gathered around various exits and anxiously watched the crowds, trying to catch a peep of the red and white striped outfit Whiskey was supposedly wearing. I made rotations with my scope, watching various exits for a minute or so before shifting my gaze to a different one.
My spotter shifted, and I didn’t think much of it. We’d been nearly motionless for several hours, I wasn’t comfortable either, but then I felt something gently touch the side of my head.
Instinctively my hands came off of my rifle and I slowly turned towards him, to reveal that he had, in fact, drawn his sidearm on me. With his pistol aimed at my head, he slowly stood up, and produced zip ties from his pockets. After securing me to a nearby railing, and disabling my radio he quickly gathered my rifle, and walked past me saying,
“No hard feelings soldier, but I have a score to settle with your commanding officer.”
His BDU’s were unbuttoned just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his red and white striped shirt that he wore underneath.
He keyed his radio and reported a sighting at the innermost portion of the convention center. I watched as all units poured into the convention center with guns out.
Whiskey 00 began rappelling down the side of our building, headed for the command vehicle. | 2020-03-03T13:00:19 | 2020-03-03T12:58:33 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] You were warned that your newest crew member, a "Human", had vastly different biology from all other known races. This mad made very clear when they drank all of the galaxy's strongest known poison, saying that they "needed a drink of water." | I was preparing the final checks of the bio-sphere module attachment procedures as I read the documents of it's content, as my hesitancy grew. A module filled with 78% nitrogen, a not completely unexpected chemical, after all it is present on many homeworlds of the Noxium Union, albeit in much lower amounts, but the oxygen reactive and corrosive gas, at 22% concerned me. Perhaps a mistake in the transfered files I should inquire about after I finish reading.
But I was stunned upon further reading, the module was to be pressurised at 14.7 psi, my confusion growing, to be cooled to a mere 289 Kelvin, with an artificial gravity two times that of my homeworld. Surely a mistake, I ponder what could live in a toxic, heavy environment this cold, so thick it could crush a Lashions exoskeleton! With an immense supply of the corrosive, Dihydrogen Monoxide as well! Either a ridiculous mistake in the files I received, or this module was for developing some kind of Accord violating weapon!
I bring my panicked worries to my supervisor, my tail swaying with my unease. "There must be a mistake, this "bio-sphere" is basically a weapon, what could we, a Union research station, be using this for?"
My supervisor simply looked at me, a trace of fear visible in his luminescant face. "It's a bio-sphere for the newly integrated sapients, the Humans. We have one joining the station to explore further integration".
My tertiary heart quivered, a human? I'd read a little of their kind after first contact was initiated. A species that dwelled in a harsh world, that ate the flesh of living beings, with maws of sharp calcium protrusions, that drank poison for sustanence, that inhaled burning bio-matter for fun. A being that stayed awake for over 16 hours at a time, and slumbered for at least 8 and carved and stained patterns in it's very own flesh, and came back for more.
I felt fear, at this alien creature that was reminiscent of a monster. This monster that was coming to this very station, but at the same time I was curious, as curious as a Neriun could be, at what this creature was truly like, how this alien truly lived, how a frightening monster like this could dwell amongst sapients so different from itself. | The great domestic conflict had been raging in the Keldor sector for decades and the RR coalition has pushed the Free Peoples Planets to the very brink on the centrally located Planet Ulmechia.
Commander aJuus El of the Navarian race and Commander Ushdid’ek of the Ultarians stood together in their Advanced Placement Command Pod surveying the battle before them.
aJuus El tapped his many fingered hand on the railing before him. “And they say of all the years of stalemate, and tactics, and counter tactics that this will be the breaking point. What a disgrace! To think the admiralty has such confidence in this new ally that they would pull back and redeploy the Navarian Chemical Artillery.”
Ushdid’ek looked up at his tall compatriot. The Navarians for all their honor and cunning in battle tech were an impetuous race. He shuffled his gills in preparation to speak. “Calm yourself, my friend. This new race has only just made contact with the rest of the universe and has already spread far and wide as mercenaries. If the stories are true then we may not need your artillery, and these aren’t mercs that are being sent here but the organized regular army of this human race. This could be interesting..”
aJuus El flexed his semi transparent high crest, a display of excitement. “This is an intrigue and no doubt. Races don’t typically join a galactic war a mere 2 RR standard light years after first contact let alone send battalions to the heart of the conflict. Either this new race is stupid or —“
“Look! —“ Both commanders looked up in time to see a crude metallic troop transport decent through the cloud cover, it made a disgusting sound of burning jets as it screamed towards the planet. FPP batteries opened up on the vessel and would have atomized it if not for the reckless maneuvering of the pilot.
The transport landed in a controlled crash and lay silent. From their secure vantage the commanders watched intently. The could see FPP ground troops emerging from their holes and bunkers to slowly encircle the craft.
“Well, that was fun. Those are FPP mind benders. They’ll scramble those poor humans before they set foot on Ulmechia.”
Several pairs of figures encircled the transport and began focusing lethal concentrations of mind destroying waves into the ship. For awhile nothing happened. The FPP troops moved in and began running this prehensile appendages over the alien ship looking for openings.
It was when they were touching the strange multi colored rectangular image on the back when an unseen door ejected with great force, knocking back a highly trained mind bender. The door was ejected with some kind of compressed steam and the hot fluid immediately disintegrated the soft membrane of nearby FPP troopers.
Out of the opening poured the humans. A group of them running forward to the unready FFP soldiers. The natives threw up another devastating wave of mental attacks to no avail. Too late they realized the humans were immune to their attacks.
The humans solid bodies easily smashing through the comparatively weak bodied FPP troopers. In a futile attempt at self defense a few of the troopers ejected their gas sacs, remnants of their long forgotten ancestors who used them to escape predators. The humans brush the vapors aside and beat easily stomped them.
****note, this is getting too long. Bail!*** | 2020-05-18T13:50:10 | 2020-05-18T13:25:59 | 144 | 76 |
[WP] After a long and tedious process you were chosen to be the first ever human to test the new way of travel - the Teleport. All previous tests on objects and animals were very successful. Zero side effects. But after using the machine yourself you immediately notice a difference. | **Teleport - remote transport**
It wasn't right. I knew the moment I stepped off the receiver platform that it wasn’t.
I’d travelled almost as far as it was possible to travel on Earth in zero time, as far as we could measure. Our station in Antarctica with the core tap we used to power the immensely hungry teleportation devices we had built, and the research base in Eureka, Nunavat, Northern Canada.
We had come too far, too fast.
It wasn’t much. It was right on the edge of perception. Half the time it takes from when you send a signal to move your finger to when it starts to move.
Every instinct was wrong. Every movement just a bit too sluggish. Sound arrived in my brain just that little bit wrong, thoughts jumbled in the wrong were order, and sense made none of it.
I had lag.
If it was cumulative, the company was in big trouble. | As I passed through the teleporter, I felt weird. Like really weird. I feel extra lightweight and I'm already thin. So lightweight that I feel like I am flying.
-
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And I am.
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There's no sight of my body though and when I looked ahead.
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This is not Earth.
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But where exactly Am I? Is this another habitable planet because I'm still breathing? No, that can't be. I don't need to breathe because I'm a ghost but why is almost everything white? Why was this so empty?
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No! Don't fall asleep now!
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"You might not wake up again, you need to figure out where you are first!" I tell myself.
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But this place is just so empty, there's nothing here except me. Then I saw a light and then followed it. It led me to an entrance where I saw a lot of people...
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No, those aren't people!
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They are like me, they are ghost or souls? But what are they doing here? I feel slowly slipping away from this place. I tried to hold longer, I wanted to see where they were all going.
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But I got sucked back to the other side and I saw my body laying on the floor and people gathering around it, sucking me right back in.
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And then a loud smack.
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SLAPPED!
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"Doctor Morigan! Wake up! Are you okay?"
"W...what h-happened?"
"The Teleported vomited out your body as soon as you tried to cross to the other side. This hasn't happen with our experiments before, they simply cross to and back."
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One of my co-scientist said and he appeared to be pissed. One female nurse looked at me expectantly though and asked "Doctor, what did you see?"
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"To be honest, I don't know as well."
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But I have an idea. Something that is two words with first word starting with A and the second starting with P. Maybe humans have souls after all. | 2020-05-30T14:00:12 | 2020-05-30T13:57:32 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] The FBI released information on how many times each citizen has had their memories erased. Most people say zero. A few people say 1 or 2. Your name, however, says 26. | The lady on the news on the television sounded chipper. Excited. "Last year, widespread protests demanded the release about the use of a technology utilized by various government agencies. This technology had been alleged to be able to wipe parts of a persons memory. Eventually, the government acknowledged the demands of the protesters and confirmed the use of such technology"
The news broadcaster rustled with a few papers. The cartride loader across the room kept it's usual clicking and chunking rhythm going, making it easy to ignore. I kept cleaning and oiling the parts of an assault rifle while mindlessly looking at the TV.
"In an unprecedented way, courts additionally ruled that the affected agencies should offer a way for citizens to request the amount of mind wipes they have been subjected to. Additionally, we have received aggregated statistics about the usage of this technology, as far as the protection of every individual allows."
More paper rustling. I had pulled up my own number on my phone. 26. Sounded about right. The rifle in front of me clicked back into an opinion enforcing tool. The new dude piped up from somewhere in the room. "I'm at 15. You guys?"
The broadcaster picked up again. "If the data we have received can be trusted, only a small number of citizens have been subjected to mind wipes, as the average number of mind wipes per person is around 0.03. There is an increased number of one or two mind wipes and experts are assuming this is used to treat certain traumatic experiences. However, experts are investigating unusual number of mind wipes surpassing 15 or even 30 mind wipes of a person. Medical experts are even questioning if this could cause harm, as safe as the procedure has been ruled".
"26" I stated calmly.
"Gee, you're getting old, Sarge" junior piped back.
Suddenly, an orange light lit up on the wall and the phones lit up simultaneously. I picked it up and scrolled through the message. Then I got up.
"Alright folks. We got a rift in eastern California, some small village seems to be gone already. Sensors indicate entities type eight, so pick ammunition accordingly. Brace yourself, since type eight will cause the worst kinds of traumas to your head. You might even try to shoot yourself when they attack. Look out for each other. You just have to live through it for a day or so, until the protocol memory wipe comes along after debriefing. Let's bump those weird numbers and tell these rifters earth doesn't welcome them" | *26?*
I ran my finger down the page again to make sure I was looking at my own name.
*26.*
I stood up slowly blinking a few times. I looked around my office space. Most of my coworkers were already discussing the news of the FBI release.
"It says you were wiped once, Donna," one of my coworkers, Rick, said to another.
"Yes, I witnessed something horrible. I can't exactly remember what it was, but I just remember being anxious before the Wipe and feeling fine now," she said, smiling.
"That's amazing," Rick said, perusing the list again. His eyes went wide and his head slowly turned to make eye contact.
"Twenty Six!?" he exploded, enunciating every syllable.
I nodded slightly. I saw the number myself, but it was harrowing to hear someone else say it aloud.
"What did you do to get Wiped that many times Miguel!?" he boomed, stomping toward me in awe. Heads were turning toward me.
"I, uhh... I forgot?" I said, trying to shrug off the feeling of being the center of attention.
"HA! You hear this guy? He forgot!" Rick laughed, waving a hand to invite more people over.
"Oh, please don't--"
"So, what do you remember exactly?" he asked eagerly, a small crowd nodding just behind him.
"I don't--how am I supposed to know that?" I protested.
"But twenty six times!" Rick said, laughing as if I was in on the joke.
"Yeah, you don't have to keep saying the numb--"
"Can you believe this guy went twenty six times and didn't even know until it went public knowledge!?"
"Guys, please," I pulled out my phone and began walking away.
"Hey, where you going?" Rick said, disappointed.
"Bathroom," I lied, opening my phone to look something up.
I typed in 'how to' and had a recently searched phrase show up: 'how to call the FBI.' I frowned and clicked on it. I called the first number that showed up.
"Hello, this is Stacy, how may I help you?" a woman on the other end asked.
"Yes, hi, my name is Miguel, I am looking at the FBI Wipe list--"
"Miguel Rodriguez?" Stacy clarified.
"Err... yes, Rodriguez, I want to know why my--"
"Just a second," she said, putting me on hold.
"What, no!" I yelled at the music playing on the other end. I breathed out, frustrated, and waited for someone to pick up. The music built up to some high-pitched noise. I zoned out for a second when suddenly the phone sprang to life.
"Hello, this is Stacy, how may I help you?" a woman on the other end of the line asked.
"Yes, hi... Uh... Hi, Stacy, I..." I blinked a few times. "Sorry, I don't seem to remember why I called. Or who I'm calling," I said, chuckling at my absentmindedness.
"Oh, don't worry about it, I hope you have a nice day!" Stacy said spritely. She was such a nice woman. I hung up and looked around, trying to remember why I was standing in front of the office bathroom. Suddenly, someone began yelling from the other room. It was Rick, my coworker.
"Twenty seven times!?" he screamed, shocked.
_____________________
For more stories, come check out r/Nazer_the_Lazer! | 2020-07-28T13:01:23 | 2020-07-28T12:36:38 | 603 | 353 |
[WP] You’re a blacksmith and a woman you’ve never seen before walks into your shop, asking for a blade. She stops by daily to check on it’s progress, and you form a bond over time, until one day she disappears. You’re afraid you’ll never see her again, until you're summoned to the castle. | It wouldn't have taken long to complete, but among other requisitions time was spread out. It had taken a week from start to finish and she had been present to check upon the blade she had ordered. It was strange at first, to be watched, but it became almost endearing to have the company. I missed her when she stopped coming by.
Being invited to the Castle was an intimidating matter, either you were in trouble or were needed for something. When you're invited to bring the simple blade you were commissioned with you, you can't help but think trouble.
The castle did not have the many staff I expected, but the great hall was beginning to stir as other blacksmiths arrived, each with the same cloth wrapped burden, most likely commissioned in the same manner.
A short man stood at the head of the hall, and began his address. He was definately not of Kingly presence, but commanded attention nonetheless. "You all are brought here with your wares, each a simple sword, or what remains of your attempts. Should you have managed to create such piece, you will be expected to prepare to make many more." The hall rumbled with wary content , we all wanted business, but enough to have us all commissioned could confirm only one thing.
Our suspicions were all but confirmed as a heavily armoured soldier stepped forwards. "We expect you bring forward your weapons for full inspection, you will be separated into two groups, one will be taken to the barracks, the other to the smiting yard. If you canot make metal, you will be expected to wield it." | As I was walking on the street that leads to the castle with two special guards at my side, I began to question my summon. Was I in some kind of trouble, or this is about the rebellion in the lands of my late father? Even then what would I be of help? I was just a Nord, trying to find my way in the Imperial City by doing smithing to locals. Oh now I get it, maybe someone from higher ranks realized my talents and talked to the emperor about it. And maybe I’ll be one of the lucky ones who will have the honor of serving him on his upcoming trip. That lovely woman told me all about it. I don’t know how she knew all these secret stuff from the palace, but I didn’t care. She was the strangest person I’ve ever met, and the blade she wanted from me... It was my best work thanks to her guidance and regular visits. As I begin to remember the short time we had, our little group reached castle gates. Suddenly, the guards held my arms tightly like I was some kind of a prisoner. Fear filled my body. This was not an invitation. Were my days in this world over? Why, what is the meaning of all this. I tried to resist but there was no escape. Just as I was about to accept my fate, I heard a deafening shout in a foreign language and I lost my consciousness.
...
Shouts, screams, blood. Blood is everywhere and the sky is burning. Dragons flying above me, the ground cannot be seen because of the burned corpses. This is the end, end of everything. A furious dragon approaches me, one can die only by looking at its eyes, reaching me with its razor-sharp claws. And I wake up.
...
Did I go blind? No, it’s just the darkness of the room. I see a silhouette. It's hers. The woman. What was her name, Sophie? I try to say something but no words came out. Then she spoke: ”I know you are confused or even scared. But don’t, because all of this will be a bad nightmare soon. Those guards were taking you to your death. Mages of the emperor whispered your name into his ears and he gave an order. The order that might have saved his life. This was not the end for you, this is just the beginning, father.” Before I even move a muscle, everything went black and my nightmare has finished as I begin to hear a man with a nordic accent talking.
...
Hey you, you are finally awake.
-Hey guys this is my first comment in the sub and English is not my first language, so sorry if I made any mistake.-
Edit: small corrections. | 2020-08-05T08:37:07 | 2020-08-05T07:18:06 | 84 | 32 |
[WP] You're the most powerful villian in the world. Formerly. Now you run a bar, that works as a neutral zone for heros and Villians alike. One day, a hotshot hero tries to arrest you. | Being the most heinous villian is fun as long as people try and stop you. Eventually... nobody did...Soon after that I stopped needing things from regular folk. So I turned one of my old castles that used to be used to collect.. lets call it resources. Into a bar.
The bar was first established as a trade post to get some items from heroes and villians I wasnt able, or couldnt be asked to procure myself... It worked shockingly well. So well that I grew more and more lazy.
After about 5 years of my trading. People came to ask from me or ask from each other. I couldnt care less. Until some heroes association came to shut me down. That was a fun afternoon.
Then a "super" villian tried to demand me to pay a tax of all my traded to him. I think he is still technically alive in the experimental breathing concrete that I cast him in. Not sure.
Anyway a few other things happened but today I am not the proud owner and proprietor of 'Hartwood Knox's Bar for the Deemed and the Damned.'
My one rule was no fighting...It became a neutral space where 60...maybe 65% of heroes and villians a like take a load off and swap stories. I have never seen people go from trying to kill each other to laughing with one another over drinks quite so quickly.
Of course today was special. The door got kicked in, splinting from the hinges. I heard it and felt myself smile.
"Boys and Girls its time to change the tally!" I said with a laugh. All the conversation died instantly as this lady walked in.
She was about 5'10" (177.8cm), with a large owl on her shoulder and a fire axe over the other... So far I couldnt tell whether she was supposed to be a hero or villian.
A loud cheer rouse from my patrons. I guess some of them recognized her. I stopped following the media after I stopped controlling it. So I had no clue who she was.
"I am bringing you in Knox" she declared as she sauntered towards me. The owl was pecking her on the head rather feverishly as she approached me. She ignored it.
"Alright. So we will take this outside. You get 3 attempts to catch me or kill me, whatever you prefer. When you lose you owe me a favour and your buying everyone here the next round." I told her of my policy as I put down my polishing towel and grabbed a glass marble from beneath my counter... Even the marble was probably overkill for this, but fresh heroes never believe the stories until they experience it themselves.
I looked at the wall and telekinetically changed the tally from 2044 to 2045...the amount of free drinks my patrons have recieved to date. | Days like today reminded me that I made the right choice after Tanzania surrendered by restructuring my villainous corporation into a new nation.
It's not common to see two supes mortal enemies becoming a couple, sure as hell ain't because nine out of ten kill each other before levelling a city when battle became passionate public sex. Nah, problem was they didn't have neutral ground to figure themselves out before. Two C listers in my bungalow bar by the shores of Lake Victoria validates my retirement plan.
I sure as hell don't have those days when my only two customers are tossed aside by a rudest bastard among speeders who took down the doors to just to reach me.
Not gonna lie, I do miss days where I had the hands of a limp dicked kid wearing way too much Lycra and mascara wrapped around my neck. Too bad this dumb kid couldn't knock me around with his weak game at slamming villains to a wall. Ex-villain I may be, but this shit still happens.
Always young weirdos who haven't been in the business long enough to stop giving a crap if they are outed. They always think they can put forty years into the heroics business and retire without anyone knowing who they were. Three years in and I just went for business casual, and rented an office from a delightful Armenian couple.
It was fine though, I may have been at the hands of a man who smells like baby powder, but I sure as fuck wasn't defenceless. I love that couple, all I do is wave them off while baby powder man starts rambling cliches.
My days of evil are over. Justice will prevail. Your plot is finished. Nuclear weapons must never be used.
The same. Old crap. As usual. They bring up past achievements like a shady collections agency picks up resolved cases.
The last time I was in the nuclear game was the nineties! I'm seventy-three for fucks sake; no reputable dealer in nuclear material sells above the age cap for villains. No one would sell me a capybara nether after I took Saint Petersburg off the map.
Like most ill raised youngsters he won't listen. Like most ill raised youngsters he obviously didn’t bother learning much else than where I’m working now. I built a town for all supes to live, love, relax, and rehabilitate in. I have children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren working all over it. He fucked up worse than Phanto, Luchador Supreme did protecting Mexico City from People’s Republic Of Eastern America first strike. It brings tears to the eyes to see that sweet couple return with my first granddaughter. Ophelia hates bad supes hurting her Pop.
Few things remind you that you had lived wise and hearty; Ophelia does it daily. A twenty something in Lycra may be quick, but speed can’t save you from the queen of her density and mass. Sickening. Nauseating. That crackling, crumpling noise unforgettable. It’s the noise of the C6-7 vertebrae being introduced to a friendly fist coming in like a pile driver. It’s a good end to the day and the beginning of the crippling psychological and emotional scarred life of a speeder stuck at average human speed.
The bonds between grandfather and granddaughter nourished in the toss of bad rubbish out onto a busy street brings laughter. Closing up and going home early speaks of how you know you got your priorities right before your career reached the point it risked crashing down. Sharing the story of the latest kid chasing up old bounties with your family over dinner brings laughter and reminiscent regaling. I love my life.
Edit: Rereading I can see the clunky crude areas, though I don't particularly care about the shortcomings; I can see where I need improvement and focus on what did work and what didn't. Thanks for the likes folks, it's all good for my self-confidence. | 2020-10-09T23:42:51 | 2020-10-09T22:30:59 | 53 | 34 |
[WP] One morning everyone in the world wakes up in their 18-year old body, memories intact. Society tries to continue as normal despite the change, but a world full of energetic adolescents certainly has its quirks. | I looked over at my sister- nine years younger than me, and yet somehow the same age all of a sudden. Her head was in her hands, the air of defeat around her almost visible.
Next to her a tall, handsome boy slept peacefully on his back.
I heard her heave a deep sigh, and looked over as she ran her hands over her tight, flat stomach, and smallish, perky breasts in disbelief.
"Julie," she whimpered. Her eyes made contact with mine and I could see the desperation in them before she threw her gaze over to the young man next to her. "What am I supposed to do? How can I handle this? I only gave birth to him two weeks ago." | "This definitively proves God, Roger. You can't deny it."
Stern eyes stared back at Lucilla, a mote less for the apparent youth now gazing back at her, a youthful head of curly brown hair coronating above his ears. "It does not. It proves we do not understand something about the universe, Luc. I intend to find the meaning behind this shift."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a small below-ground laboratory, a group of scientific professionals busily moved testing equipment to and from the center stage, renovating for the new experiments. Cell death was examined, and then cells were autopsied for references of previous stochastic decay. All tests came back negative; the references to prior decay were simply not there, even in individuals with particularly strained lives. Eventually, Command issued Lucilla's team the go command on performing a biopsy on a living patient, a "volunteer" from another sketchy military project. Brain tissue was extracted and analyzed, and a startling discovery was made; the tissue was in a perfect state of health, with no decay present whatsoever.
Lucilla was allowed to publish her studies, with the caveat of an NDA on research principles, and the world stood in collective shock. No animals had become young, or even a collective eighteen years of age; so many species would have died, Lucilla reflected, that this was a godsend.
Of course, after a short amount of time, systems collapsed. Banks and other financial institutions could no longer reasonably determine identity, with many individuals so distinct from their ID as to be completely invisible. Childish and somber, hopeful and idyllic, the world suddenly had a moment of completely empathy.
Roger phoned Lucilla early in the night after poring over medical journals, sipping his (now illegal) Jack and Coke.
"Hey, Lucilla?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think we're in a writing prompt?" | 2020-11-02T10:49:46 | 2020-11-02T10:09:12 | 105 | 13 |
[WP] You are a wolf who was bitten by a werewolf. Every full moon your hair recedes, your teeth dull, and you are left cold and naked on a hillside. You’ve also met a lovely park ranger named Christine. | BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. AWOOOOOOOO.
BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. AWOOOOOOO. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF, BARK WOOF BARK. BARK WOOF BARK. BARK BARK BARK BARK, BARK WOOF. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF BARK BOOF..... BARK.. BARK? BARK WOOF BARK WOOF BARK BADK WOOF.
AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Edit: guys this is my first story here, and I worked really hard on it. I hope you enjoyed it. 💕 | Two glowling orbs of petrified sapphire eyes stalked the midnight night air aloof, a patter of light frost fall had long formed into our slumber. Anticipation gripped, did the ethereal warmth of the hunt course through my veins. We had been tracking a herd of elk for several days now, with particular interest in the elder, *Carne.* His hooves growing deeper into the soil, his body becoming increasingly fatter and clumsier into his age. He was the perfect target for our starved pack, as we waited for the Alpha to move.
His shimmering grey coat, melting from the darkness, glowing eyes still stalking our panting breath with a disciplined disgust. "On my mark." He said sternly, addressing us closely. The plan was foolproof, yet the air tasted quite strange as if the Earth were trying to warn us of impending ruin. My belly was much to empty to process any thought past the flesh, by the time I had grasped reality. My paws were already ahead of me, scrambling the herd.
The tension fell upon me, as the cold air condensed upon my scalding breath. I sprinted at the Elder Elk, as if my very soul was within reach. We had assumed that he would have slowed from exhaustion by now, and yet he paced through the skeletal branches of the Forrest as if they were nothing. Almost snagged twice by the low hanging branches of the dark, the kind that had already caught all of my bothers. I found myself alone in persuit, leaping once into my breathless sprint until I was an inch away betwixt a fallen log and a cliff- **Slam!**
It was as if reality had struck my starved physicality, in form of the Elder's hoof upon my jaw. A catastrophic pain encircled my skull, as my vision faded into haze. Passed out. Black fur caressing the delicate white snow as gravity pulled my limp body down an embankment. The shrill vocal of a distance howl broke me into conciseness, was this my pack here to consume me? No, my body still worked- "Ouch!" I cried out into the darkened hollow as the brewing blizzard swallowed my voice by the pain in my jaw.
A scent approaching in the distance, unfamiliar as my ears shifted toward the approaching breath. I felt fear within that moment, more so than pain as I lifted my broken body but failed to stand. Was I about to vanish from this existence? Two glowing orbs of venous yellow broke through the snow addled air, an insatiable hunger in them as they grew closer. Revealing more of the creature.
It was a strange creature that spoke as a wolf, not from my pack yet walked upright as a man. It was strange, but paid no mind to my please and whimpers. Instead, the creature leapt onto my decaying flesh and began to gnaw at my existence. Within that sullen moment I greeted death in the cycle of life, but alas it would not come as the Forrest air filled with the piercing shard of a gunshot. The creature had fled, leaving me to bleed out. I felt my body, numbing into shock. The poison of pain encircled my being, it was as if all of my bones began to break and reshape in the light of the moon. I howled a dying last breath into the twilight of my life, before my eyes met the everlasting black.
But there I awoke, in a white room with black curtains. It felt cold, sterile. My eyes were facing the blinding lamp above me, had I been laying on my back? Where are my paws? My body quivered in pain as I tried to roll over, so I stayed and watched the image of the tan skinned human beside me... Tan skinned human? I immediately rushed to growl at the beast, but found it mimicking movements. That was until I lunged at it and found that it was behind a layer of frozen water, yet when I tried to break through. It shattered leaving behind a wall.
The shock brought in a tall human, with yellow fur along her head but nowhere else. I had begun to growl at it too, I would have damn near attacked it had it not restrained me. It was weird, I could understand it's-her communication. I stood paralyzed, as the situation become clearer. Was I, a monster?
The women, clad in green would teach me of what I had become. That I was not the first of my kind, but she was working to ensure that I was the last. Her day job would have called her an ordinary ranger, but as she lifted a rifle in the night. She become a monster hunter, and it was up to us to eliminate that thing who had turned me into this... Human. I learnt many things of both the human world and myself, until the full moon had hallowed away and I found myself as myself again. The girl, Christine was her name. Had kept me and healed me, and for that I would have never left her side. If not for the call of my brothers, that I would answer to on instinct before realising where I was.
Fortunately none had suspected a thing, but I would often leave behind them and the hunt in search of Christine for we would go hunting the 'werewolf,' as she called it. Over time, I found our bond growing stronger. My understanding and speech extending beyond my form, as I would ward human hunters into insanity using my human voice and reclaim the Forrest for our nature.
I will accept my curse and be of both worlds until I may become one whole as one, as I lose myself deeper into humanity and their delicious steaks but more so the hunt of the beast for it is what I live for.
All until the next full moon, Christy. All to the next full moon. | 2021-03-14T16:58:28 | 2021-03-14T15:46:39 | 182 | 77 |
[WP] You are a sculptor with the ability to make your creations, whatever they may be, come to life. In a post-apocalyptic world, you live alone on an island with your sculptures. A small group of survivors looking for shelter have mistaken you for a villain that turns people into dolls. | Galena approached me as I was chipping at my latest work of art. She was slender and beautiful. In her, I wanted the innocence of beauty. And of my latest creations the one I enjoy the most company. She gestured me to accompany her. She could not speak, none of them can. As much life as I can breath into them, they will still be sculptures of art.
I told her to give me a minute, and laid my tool on the table. I needed to finish this before my muse leaves. I sand the chin of what will be one day called, Ilmenite. I do not know the eyes, but I have woken today with the shape of the face in my mind. The sharp chin and angled chins. An ear with an earing. I could fall in love again.
The stone felt smooth to my touch, and I was satisfied with the grain. Galena had remained still, taking in the sight of my art. I was aware of how much she enjoys watching me work, but today, she had chores to accomplish by the river glade.
She led me to the southern balcony, and flowed as she walks. Just as I envisioned her as I carved her from the stone. She stood by the side of the opened canopy and lifted her hand point towards the river.
A rough ship had landed at the shore near the delta. From here I could tell apart 4 individuals. Humans. It was been, more than A year since I have seen other survivors. The company would be welcomed.
There was a problem with their movements though. I could not tell from here, but they where erratic and may have appeared disturbed. I glanced at Galena and she had a worried look on her face. She was not around when the last group had arrived, so I approached and held her in my arms to console her. "Do not worry, everything would be fine." I told her. and her shoulders relaxed. The hard smooth stone felt wonderful as I stroked it. I kept looking at the group and another figure came out of the boat. This one was taller and had an air of authority. He seemed to have called out and the others gathered about him. From here I could not hear what he said but he was instructing something. He pointed towards the delta where there stood to giant Gargoyles, I had carved Decades ago. He later pointed towards the mountain, towards my home. I'm not sure if he saw us, standing there watching, but after a few moments the entire group started to move towards they pathway. It worried me that they seemed to be carrying some rudimentary weapons.
We kept watching them from our viewpoints. The walked past the broken remains of my past failures. Statues that would never feel the breath of light. Then, Hemlock, approached the group. I could tell it was him by the texture and shape of Hemlock's wooden body as he approached the group. Galena held strongly to me as only stone can when she also recognized Hemlock.
Hemlock was one of my first creations, before I dabbled into the Hard stone. He knew what to do, and would guide the group to see me. Invite them as guest. Even without speech he should not have any trouble.
It surprised me then when the group felt more agitated. They were not being cooperative it would seem. Galena's grip started to hurt and I eased her away. She made no resistance as I moved her hands away. "Go to the Garden", I instructed her. She smiled with worried eyes and leaned towards my mouth and left a cold kiss before leaving.
As I suspected the group had become violent. Poor Hemlock received a clobber to the head and laid still on the grass patch by the path way. The group immediately started running up the path that leads to my abode. I sighed. I wasn't expecting them this way. the last few travelers were gentle and friendly. I did not expect to see many more living humans left. And I wanted to hear news of the outside world. But alas, these are violent and would not see reason.
I look towards the statues by the delta. I breathe in a subtle voice, "Onyx and Cobalt. Come to me my children." The two enormous gargoyles lifted their wings and stretched as awakening from a slumber.
I lean over the railing and I can finally hear their voices. Some are panting and some are grunting, but the leaders voice is clear, "Hurry, something is coming from the river. We need to stop the mad man. He will turn us all into dolls as we have already seen."
The ignorant fools. They do not comprehend what I can actually do. Their misguided attitude will bring their downfall. They finally noticed me watching over them from my perch. A young female in the back pointed towards me, and yelled, "There he is, be careful." The three in the front started to run faster and the other man started to pull at the young lady pulling her to advance. In their failure to advance, Onyx landed straight between the group impeding the passage of these two. Cobalt headed towards the other three but I knew she would not reach them in time.
Onyx stood there and the two that were left behind started to attack the feet of the enormous Onyx. From here I could see that He towered four times their size and a smile of proudness over came me. I head inside, for I must now meet the guests. On my way I whispered, "Ready."
The tall man was muscular, and wore ripped shorts and no shirt. He has seen battle in the past I could tell just by looking at his scars. He was not afraid of me, as his two companions did. One was an older women with graying hair, and the other seemed to young to be an adult. Their grey and beige clothing made them look boring.
"Stop this madness," Said the leader, "We will end you before you can turn us to dolls." This was the only warning he gave me. He glared at me with cold blue eyes and lunged at me with a fierce weapon in his hand.
He was no more than 4 feet from my when a rope taught quickly between him and me. It twined between his legs and arm and fixed tightly around his neck. The rope had also captured the other two and even in their fear they couldn't move.
"Let us go wizard." The man blazed at me.
"Do you really think I turn people into dolls?" I asked them, not really expecting any answer.
"We saw what you had done to them by the river." The man roared at me. The rope tightened more on his neck and he choked his last word.
"I am but an artist. What you saw are my failures." I explained.
"But," sobbed the silver haired woman, "The look in their faces."
"As I said, They are my failures," I say with a bit of boredom, "I breath life into my creations. And my failures were not meant to have life."
The boy then starts to scream when he feels his body turn to stone. The shock in the woman's face is obvious as she realizes how close to the truth thy were while being utterly wrong. The man kept his strong glare at me filled with hate, and when his body turned completely to stone, his eyes lost their color but remain beautifully firm.
"You are not meant to have the breath of life." I said to the statues, disgusted by their expressions.
I approached the man with the firm eyes and I could feel Galena come closer to me. She must learn to obey me better or else she could get hurt. I felt the mans face in my left hand and galena held on to my right arm. I let her and she had a weight of tranquility and relaxation. His eyes were beautiful and Ilmenite would soon bear them. | "Help! Oh god, help!" A person runs out of the house, flailing their arms as their bare skin touched the air. The person trips down the stairs of the house and crumbles into dust.
​
A group of people who'd found their way to the island looked on in shock as a broken rocky army nearly smacked them across their faces. They remembered back to when the attack on humanity happened. It was called "Medusa's mark." Anyone who had the mark of the beast on their back was as good as dead and if someone with the mark touched a markless person, they'd spread that same mark. If the sunlight or moonlight touched their skin they'd crumble to dust seamlessly.
​
"Come to Paradise Island!" Played on the radio endlessly, it gave survivors hope, a place to go, a goal to reach. The listened to the voice of the radio day in and day out, imagining what was awaiting them on their journey.
​
Blaige, the leader of the group of three people, excluding himself, believed that humans were art. He justified all of the deaths caused by this Medusa's mark as art. It was the only way he could handle watching his daughter and wife turning into dust before him as he tried to hold on.
​
A man walked out of the door of the house as the group stared on. For the very first time on Blaige's journey, he stepped back in fear as an elderly, wrinkled man waved to the four of them with joy. Until he saw Richard and his face returned to a neutral state he began walking with his his cane in hand.
​
The stone that laid at their feet cried out to them as the elderly man made his way down the stairs slowly.
​
The stones beneath them cried out as they scoured their surroundings. As they scanned the landscape of the vegetation that overtook the island they saw statues littering the trees and ground. It wasn't unusual to see things such as that' however it was different. The stone remains of what were once people stared at them as they all began to back away slowly from the jovial man on his porch.
​
"To think there'd still be survivors! How'd you like to se-," The decrepit voice of the old man is cut short by a hoarse cough as he covers his mouth and continues, "My art?"
​
"He wants us to be his art?" Linda repeats in fear as her voice trembled, she looked at Blaige, and instead of her usual witty remarks, she looked at Blaige with understanding.
​
'You were right...' is what Linda thought to herself before pushing a little girl, Jacy, to the ground and began running into the forest as she dropped her belongings.
​
The old man continued walking to his stairs from his porch and as he turned the balcony and passed the railings of his porch, the three remaining survivors saw the man with a chisel and hammer approaching them.
​
"Bring that woman back to me safely!-" The old man coughs again as he clears his throat. He hits the statue of a three-headed wolf and its eyes spark with life as it jumped above the heads of the survivors and ran towards Linda.
Blaige grabs Jacy and begins running in the opposite direction of the wolf as fear shivered down his spine. Richard follows his lead as they run into the forest that surrounded the house. The run a long way before the take a break to recuperate and conjure their thoughts.
​
"Blaige, what was that?" Richard beckoned Blaige hushedly as Blaige began to heave and catch his breath.
​
He takes in a large gulp of air before explaining himself.
​
"Do you know... where humans come from?" He asked as he covered Jacy's eyes as he rested with his back to a tree.
​
"I believe in the sculptors' theory... we were all created by an artist. What happens when the artist sees imperfection in their craft?"
​
Leaves crunch as footsteps are heard echoing throughout the silent forest.
​
Richard looks at Blaige as he continued catching his breath and scanned their area cautiously and quickly.
​
"Artist's leave signatures. People like you, me, Linda, and Jacy are different. We didn't have those marks. We weren't made by an artist; we were made by something more malicious..."
​
The tree Blaige sat under began to thump. Chunks of wood flew from the base of the as Blaige turned his head and saw a man hacking away at the tree. The thick tree is knocked down swiftly in less than seconds as the group began running again. They looked back and saw the mark on the chest of the stony man and saw that it was different. Instead of the usual woman with snakes for hair covering their hair the mark was an old man with bald hair, similar to the man they ran from that stayed in the house.
​
"Sorry!" The stony lumberjack said with remorse as he continued chopping down trees around the forest.
​
"Blaige... this is different. The stones are speaking and moving like their actual people. That one even had a different mark!" Richard spoke as the three of them ran further into the forest. Blaige trips over a rock and drops Jacy as she cried out. He looks down at what caused him to fall and see's Linda's body. It had been turned to stone, Blaige writhed in pain as his sprained foot refused to move any further and puke nearly filled his mouth.
​
"Rich, take Jacy with you... I'm damned," Blaige says as he stares at the rocky Linda whilst laying beside her, accepting his fate.
​
Richard obliges and begins running back toward the shore they all arrived on. He had no idea where he'd go, what he'd eat, or how they'd live but he knew he had to leave the island. He was lost, nothing but trees, vines, shrubs, and stones surrounded him as they appeared to stare him down.
​
The old man finds Blaige and see's him sitting in pain. He walks to him slowly with his cane pushing him forward as he comforted him.
​
"I'll make this quick." He says as he places his chisel onto his leg and hammers it down.
​
A scream echoes throughout the jungle as Richard began to run harder than he'd ever run before. Richard realizes he'd ran in a circle as he saw Blaige standing up good as new.
​
Blaige and Linda wave Richard over to them jovially as they both smile. "Richard! It was a big misunderstanding come here! He can help us!" Richard ignores Blaige's cries as he begins to run in a straight line. He looks back to see their faces turning into worry as he hits his tree on a branch and faints, dropping Jacy to the ground alone.
​
Richard awakens, his body unable to move and his eyes pried open as he darted his eyes across the room. He saw Linda, Blaige, and Jacy sleeping on beds as he began to try and shake himself free of his bindings.
​
Blaige hears the struggling and wakes up the others as they begin to stare at him as he grunts.
​
"You can drop the act. The old man told us what you did." Blaige says as he stares at Richard from a distance. Richard stops his struggling and attempts to laugh as the gag that filled his mouth silenced him.
​
The old man walks into the room and stares at Richard with disappointment.
​
"Why did you destroy your most beautiful creations?" The old man asked as Richard began to free himself from his bindings with ease.
​
"Ask Blaige," Richard retorts as he stands smugly.
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[u/AlfredoOreos](https://www.reddit.com/u/AlfredoOreos/) Feedback is appreciated as I'm still learning new ways of storytelling and if you enjoyed this story check out my profile and follow for similar ones! Thanks a lot for reading. | 2021-04-26T14:08:03 | 2021-04-26T12:42:55 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | I was a joke, I knew it, the city knew it, the heroes knew it. Sure they had to adapt to whatever my latest superweapon was and overcome, becoming stronger, pushing the limits of their powers but they always overcame my latest scheme, I never got anywhere in the grand scheme of things. So, I was a joke, but the joke was on them. They thought I was a failure because I never succeeded in getting the money, the girl, the power, or control. I thought I was a failure because they never understood that I was training them.
It was my biggest frustration honestly. I could never get a single one of these heroes to look beyond their preconceived notions of good and evil and realize that what they thought were bumbling attempts to be villainous really prepared them for true threats. They never saw the bigger picture. So when the Void Menace, a serial hero-killer came to town I wasn't too worried. I sat back on my couch with some pretzels and a helping of hummus and watched the fight unfold via the innumerable surveillance drones that I had around town to record training footage.
Void Menace started by using his Absolute Zero move to ice the ground under our local speedster's feet. Classic move to deal with a super-fast opponent, nice opening but weak. Blue Shift merely vibrated at a rate that allowed her foot to phase about a quarter of a centimeter below the ice and into the ground, allowing her to retain perfect traction. I smirked, she'd learned that one when I attacked with my Blizzard Bombs last July. The resounding punch from the speedster rocked the villain sending him reeling.
Lady Crimson a dark-haired Amazonian was the next target of the Menace. Tendrils of pure darkness snaked out from every shadow and bound the heroine, wrapping and knotting around her limbs and body. Most heroes would try to break free with brute strength, and LC had plenty to spare but some bonds couldn't be broken by strength alone. After encountering my nano-reinforced, self-repairing plotinium chains a year ago though Lady Crimson, in reality, a lovely woman with two adorable kids, had learned to escape from bonds better than Harry Houdini himself. Menace roared in rage when she seemed to magically slide free.
Titanomax, the super-strong, invincible, flying member of the local supers took that moment to attack. Flinging shadows at the bruiser, the Menace temporarily blinded him, just like I had in 96 during the "Great Blackout." The hero's super hearing however allowed him to compensate. I did raise an eyebrow when the villain followed the attack by creating a void pocket and allowing the resulting pop to create a deafening sonic boom. Guess he's dealt with superheroes with enhanced hearing before! I laughed though as his eyes widened in surprise as Titanomax slugged him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of even that super-powered monster.
As Void Menace bounced across the concrete, cracking the ground with every impact I winced, then laughed as Titanomax gave a knowing nod to Electrix, the group's gadgeteer. I knew Titanomax wore sound discriminating earplugs ever since Electrix had captured the tech from me when he teamed up with the Silver Banshee to take me down during the Peanut Butter Heist of 07. In fact, I was pretty sure the whole team had them now, since they also served as GPS, com-link, and tracking devices that used quantum entanglement to be unhackable and unobservable.
I looked down at the empty bowl of pretzels. That was a mistake because when I looked up Electrix had a smoking rifle held up and a smug look on his face. I cursed and focused on Menace. I didn't see any wounds even as the brute stood slowly, coughing a little blood from Titanomax's last hit but still standing. He seemed to be considering his situation and I could tell his next move. He snapped his fingers. I'm sure he meant to use Void Stride, his ultimate teleport that could span light-years, but nothing happened. I put two and two together rather quickly.
Electrix had "captured" some anti-teleport tech from me a few years back. They thought I was teleporting into the bank vaults and then using the tech to stop any heroes from teleporting in while I robbed the bank. It took them a few tries to catch me and by then I had coated the inside of the bank vaults of more than half the city with my anti-teleportation tech. Actually how they caught me was a pretty good move on their part, you see... You know what, story for another time. Long story short Electrix had adapted it to be used on teleporting villains as those slippery buggers were some of the hardest to pin down.
I stood up and walked away from the screen at that point. I wanted a glass of water, the pretzels had made me so thirsty, and to be honest it was just wrap up by now. They'd throw him in the super-max jail. In most cities, I'd be worried about him getting out in under a week but I'd broken out of that place 138 times out of the 139 times I'd been arrested. Each time they improved security, closing the vulnerability I exposed to escape. The last time, well the last time I didn't escape. I was all set to retire to life in prison, safe in the knowledge my city and my heroes were as protected as I could make them, but one of the heroes had surprised me.
Titanomax, crusader of truth and justice just, let me go. I didn't ask why, maybe he felt sorry for me. I did see pity in his eyes when he did, and shame. I had hoped he understood I had never been out to do evil, but I'm not sure he did. I think he thought I was just some sad old villain who was past his prime and not able to keep up with the heroes of today. It made me sad to realize that they didn't even see how much stronger they had gotten. A lesser man would have worried they had gotten too strong, turned to villainy themselves. But all six hundred heroes I had raised over the last fifty years turning evil at once? Not likely. I sat on my couch with a cup of tea and looked up at my wall covered in news clippings and magazine articles of their many victories and triumphs and smiled. If one of them broke in now and saw the tribute they would likely think I was plotting revenge, but nothing could be further from the truth.
*EDIT: Thanks for the awards and upvotes! I'm very happy to see so many people enjoyed it! | It didn't take a super genius to know that our world didn't exist within the herculean struggle between justice and evil as the media would have us believe- but rather our choices often blurred the lines. There was a spectrum- shades of gray as it were.
Gray like my prison cell.
But within the shades of daily gray, there sometimes emerged bursts of color, sensationalism, and expressiveness. A break from the TV static; the white noise of adulthood that permeates our lives after we've abandoned our dreams as unrealistic or unobtainable.
We call them Super Heroes.
Quirky, bright-eyed, idealistic if not a little naive, explosions of personality who find themselves endowed with unimaginable gifts and the moral compass to use those gifts for the good of all mankind. But as with all things- powers come in shades of gray.
Nobody wanted a hero with the power of disintegration.
So I did what any young teenager would do when rejected by society despite my best intentions- I ran away. I seethed with anger, plotted revenge, and allowed myself to seep into the darkest recesses of my id. Maybe at first, I meant to hurt people for abandoning me without even giving me the chance to be good- but the first time I saw my actions rip a family apart; a woman wailing over her dead husband; the traumatized eyes of the children.
It changed me.
Or maybe it reminded me of who I truly was.
They put me in prison, mostly because I allowed it. I spent as much time as I felt I deserved at Tyson Max before disintegrating the walls and escaping. You see, I'd had a lot of time to think behind those iron bars. I realized that I could do good in my own way. I could push them- the faces plastered all over my walls in my youth.
The Reef.
Longman.
Whirlwind.
Goliath.
Herald.
I could make them better. Give them the kind of chaos that pushed them to think outside the box; force them to make decisions quickly under pressure, and I could do it the way no other villain could. I had to be careful of course, not to disintegrate them- it took practice and years of making it look like a close call, but the truth was, I never would have hurt any of them. So imagine my surprise when the little box in my prison cell began spouting off about a new disaster.
"Folks, the carnage is unreal today in the downtown area as Death Ray once again challenges the league!"
It was Andy Rutherson, the anchor for Channel 3 News. I furrowed my brow and wandered closer to the colorful box as he continued.
"We'll try to bring you in closer to the action with the Channel 3 Skycam. What we're seeing here is- oh, hold on. I'm being told that Death Ray is behind bars right now. If that's true, then we're seeing something wholly unique today. The rise of a new villain!"
I stared intently at the little screen and began adjusting the antenna for a clearer picture. The camera panned over the smoking city as explosions rocked the downtown area. As much as I despised Andy Rutherson, he was right. There was no villain capable of this except for me.
As the Skycam moved in closer, I could see her- it was Herald. Her long red locks and yellow outfit were unmistakable from any distance. She was hovering over him: the new villain. He was standing in the wreckage of a building below her. He was dressed all in black with a red cape and cowl. His arms were outstretched as he strode around the rubble.
He was monologuing.
"We're getting confirmation that the new villain isn't a *new* villain at all," Andy cut in. "His name is Deathwish, and he's apparently an extremely capable villain from overseas! He's killed dozens of heroes in Japan, North Korea, and eastern China. What a spectacle we have here today, folks!"
I was grinding my teeth in my mouth as I watched Andy's stupid coif bounce around as he laughed. This was a life or death situation; he cared nothing for these heroes, and clearly nothing for the populace.
Suddenly, Deathwish pointed at a nearby building. The base of the building exploded as a hundred pounds of TNT had been set off in the lobby. Herald recoiled at the sight.
"C'mon, Herald," I whispered. "I did this to you in 82, don't panic. You remember don't you?"
She quickly zipped away from view of the camera as Goliath appeared on the scene to engage the villain. The camera didn't follow her- the action was in front of us. Goliath, dressed in his barbarian garb, threw one of the tomahawks on his belt and used it to close the distance on his opponent- just as I'd forced him to do back in 86 when I fought him in that open field in the outskirts of town.
I smiled like a proud father when Goliath picked Deathwish up and tossed him into the side of a building.
"Attaboy, Goliath. Destabilize him."
Whirlwind suddenly appeared as the chopper turned to get a better shot. I was on the edge of my seat. I remembered suddenly, so long ago like looking through a foggy mirror, sitting with my mother on the couch as I gripped my Whirlwind action figure. Watching my heroes go to work was the highlight of my week as a child. And as I watched them team up against the new threat, I couldn't help but feel that swelling in my heart like I used to.
"We're getting reports that Herald has set the destroyed building down gently along Old Mill Road, where, as usual, there was little traffic in her way. Debra you just have to *hope* that nobody inside is badly injured. We go now to a word from our sponsors."
I sighed deeply and bounced my right knee nervously as they ran the stupid deodorant ad. They must have paid billions for that slot, and I'd be sure to never buy it again just for pissing me off. They'd used Goliath for the ad.
"When I'm carving up bad guys, I work up a sweat!"
I rolled my eyes.
When the commercial was finally over, and they cut back to the action, my arms fell to my sides. Andy's face in the sidecam was pale. They weren't talking- it was just a close up feed of Deathwish holding Goliath's head by his hair as the helicopter passed over.
I sat back in my metal folding chair and stared in disbelief.
The disbelief turned to sadness.
The sadness turned to anger.
The anger evolved into unabashed silent fury as I stood up.
"Um... Can we... Can we cut to another-"
KKGHZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
The channel cut to static. I swallowed and turned toward the wall as the TV hissed. I stared at the wall and began to disassemble it along with whatever was on the other side of it.
*It was time to go.*
- - -
[Part 2](https://reddit.com/r/A15MinuteMythos/comments/nhg0vx/wp_you_are_the_citys_premier_supervillain_but_you/)
I used to get a 15-minute break at work and write as much as I could during that break. I'm self-employed now, so it's kind of a self-challenge at this point. I kept getting interrupted all morning while writing this one, so I just went ahead and took my time.
If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos | 2021-05-20T07:25:02 | 2021-05-20T07:09:29 | 795 | 350 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | It didn't take a super genius to know that our world didn't exist within the herculean struggle between justice and evil as the media would have us believe- but rather our choices often blurred the lines. There was a spectrum- shades of gray as it were.
Gray like my prison cell.
But within the shades of daily gray, there sometimes emerged bursts of color, sensationalism, and expressiveness. A break from the TV static; the white noise of adulthood that permeates our lives after we've abandoned our dreams as unrealistic or unobtainable.
We call them Super Heroes.
Quirky, bright-eyed, idealistic if not a little naive, explosions of personality who find themselves endowed with unimaginable gifts and the moral compass to use those gifts for the good of all mankind. But as with all things- powers come in shades of gray.
Nobody wanted a hero with the power of disintegration.
So I did what any young teenager would do when rejected by society despite my best intentions- I ran away. I seethed with anger, plotted revenge, and allowed myself to seep into the darkest recesses of my id. Maybe at first, I meant to hurt people for abandoning me without even giving me the chance to be good- but the first time I saw my actions rip a family apart; a woman wailing over her dead husband; the traumatized eyes of the children.
It changed me.
Or maybe it reminded me of who I truly was.
They put me in prison, mostly because I allowed it. I spent as much time as I felt I deserved at Tyson Max before disintegrating the walls and escaping. You see, I'd had a lot of time to think behind those iron bars. I realized that I could do good in my own way. I could push them- the faces plastered all over my walls in my youth.
The Reef.
Longman.
Whirlwind.
Goliath.
Herald.
I could make them better. Give them the kind of chaos that pushed them to think outside the box; force them to make decisions quickly under pressure, and I could do it the way no other villain could. I had to be careful of course, not to disintegrate them- it took practice and years of making it look like a close call, but the truth was, I never would have hurt any of them. So imagine my surprise when the little box in my prison cell began spouting off about a new disaster.
"Folks, the carnage is unreal today in the downtown area as Death Ray once again challenges the league!"
It was Andy Rutherson, the anchor for Channel 3 News. I furrowed my brow and wandered closer to the colorful box as he continued.
"We'll try to bring you in closer to the action with the Channel 3 Skycam. What we're seeing here is- oh, hold on. I'm being told that Death Ray is behind bars right now. If that's true, then we're seeing something wholly unique today. The rise of a new villain!"
I stared intently at the little screen and began adjusting the antenna for a clearer picture. The camera panned over the smoking city as explosions rocked the downtown area. As much as I despised Andy Rutherson, he was right. There was no villain capable of this except for me.
As the Skycam moved in closer, I could see her- it was Herald. Her long red locks and yellow outfit were unmistakable from any distance. She was hovering over him: the new villain. He was standing in the wreckage of a building below her. He was dressed all in black with a red cape and cowl. His arms were outstretched as he strode around the rubble.
He was monologuing.
"We're getting confirmation that the new villain isn't a *new* villain at all," Andy cut in. "His name is Deathwish, and he's apparently an extremely capable villain from overseas! He's killed dozens of heroes in Japan, North Korea, and eastern China. What a spectacle we have here today, folks!"
I was grinding my teeth in my mouth as I watched Andy's stupid coif bounce around as he laughed. This was a life or death situation; he cared nothing for these heroes, and clearly nothing for the populace.
Suddenly, Deathwish pointed at a nearby building. The base of the building exploded as a hundred pounds of TNT had been set off in the lobby. Herald recoiled at the sight.
"C'mon, Herald," I whispered. "I did this to you in 82, don't panic. You remember don't you?"
She quickly zipped away from view of the camera as Goliath appeared on the scene to engage the villain. The camera didn't follow her- the action was in front of us. Goliath, dressed in his barbarian garb, threw one of the tomahawks on his belt and used it to close the distance on his opponent- just as I'd forced him to do back in 86 when I fought him in that open field in the outskirts of town.
I smiled like a proud father when Goliath picked Deathwish up and tossed him into the side of a building.
"Attaboy, Goliath. Destabilize him."
Whirlwind suddenly appeared as the chopper turned to get a better shot. I was on the edge of my seat. I remembered suddenly, so long ago like looking through a foggy mirror, sitting with my mother on the couch as I gripped my Whirlwind action figure. Watching my heroes go to work was the highlight of my week as a child. And as I watched them team up against the new threat, I couldn't help but feel that swelling in my heart like I used to.
"We're getting reports that Herald has set the destroyed building down gently along Old Mill Road, where, as usual, there was little traffic in her way. Debra you just have to *hope* that nobody inside is badly injured. We go now to a word from our sponsors."
I sighed deeply and bounced my right knee nervously as they ran the stupid deodorant ad. They must have paid billions for that slot, and I'd be sure to never buy it again just for pissing me off. They'd used Goliath for the ad.
"When I'm carving up bad guys, I work up a sweat!"
I rolled my eyes.
When the commercial was finally over, and they cut back to the action, my arms fell to my sides. Andy's face in the sidecam was pale. They weren't talking- it was just a close up feed of Deathwish holding Goliath's head by his hair as the helicopter passed over.
I sat back in my metal folding chair and stared in disbelief.
The disbelief turned to sadness.
The sadness turned to anger.
The anger evolved into unabashed silent fury as I stood up.
"Um... Can we... Can we cut to another-"
KKGHZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
The channel cut to static. I swallowed and turned toward the wall as the TV hissed. I stared at the wall and began to disassemble it along with whatever was on the other side of it.
*It was time to go.*
- - -
[Part 2](https://reddit.com/r/A15MinuteMythos/comments/nhg0vx/wp_you_are_the_citys_premier_supervillain_but_you/)
I used to get a 15-minute break at work and write as much as I could during that break. I'm self-employed now, so it's kind of a self-challenge at this point. I kept getting interrupted all morning while writing this one, so I just went ahead and took my time.
If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos | I’d tap my foot impatiently on the metal floor of my underground base, this new guy in town, who is he? Why is he here? And what is his goal? I’d turn on the massive big screen TV I stole from the new Mega-theater, maybe clear my head from it, I expect to hear news of my latest heist of the massive screen, instead I find a bank robbery in progress, hostages, explosive traps. One hero, a close rival of mine had already gone in and, gotten killed? My minion in their comically colorful jumpsuits runs up and hands me a file on this new villain, The Dominator, What an odd name...Wanted Internationally for...mass murder and seeking to cause a nuclear apocalypse, I need to clear my head, I’d take the file as I’d begin to walk out of my control room
I’d read through the crimes this new villain had committed, so much death and destruction in his wake, I’d look up at my hallway, photos, of my doomsday devices, my traps, and me getting arrested, all those times, minions walk by, cheerfully saluting me, yet I can’t shake this feeling, am I not a good villain? Is this new thing what villains do, not building eleborate lairs with doomsday countdowns, no, hidden shark traps that hero’s can dodge? I’d walk into my vault, filled with gold stolen from the downtown bank, filled with relics and loot I’ve stolen over the years, a ride from the shopping mall, the key to the city, ah yes, that picture. I’d look at the old photo, me buying the land my lair sits under now.
A minion walks up to me, “Doctor Dread, Sir, Boss, Overlord of the Central Metro Area, there’s a guy called “The Dominator” Who wants to speak with you. I’d sigh, walking back through the hall to my central sanctum, I’d sit on my large control chair, as the message comes on, a gruff voice comes over the speaker
”Doctor Dread I’ve come to-where are you?”
I’d slowly turn in my chair, my black and red lab coat, and red goggles showing themselves as I’d brush my pet raven on the chairs arm, I’d laugh in my exaggerated accent
”So, The Dominator is it, what is the meaning of your cont-“
The massive man in a suit of armor, covered in tubes and gas tanks with a gas mask cuts me off
”I’ve come to ask your assistance in destroying this city and killing its hero’s“
I’d respond confused in this plan
”Destroy the city, kill the hero’s, only one of those can I get behind, but how shall we do it, shrink the city and put it in a snowglobe, wait! We can use a time ray and slow the city dow-“
The Dominator cuts me off again
”No you idiot, I was thinking we lure the hero’s into the open, then we nuke the entire city, devestasting everything
I’d pause a moment before speaking
”You are a more direct villain I see, bit we’ll need a countdown timer, and clues to give the hero’s time to defuse i-“
He begins to shout at me
”You are a villain, why are you letting these heros stop your plans, do not want to end the pathetic world?”
I’d retort
”Why are you murdering hero’s causing chaos, why is there all that fire in your base, that’s a safety hazard, do you not know what I do here, I try to take the city, I lose, and I almost win, but loses, my plans are perfect, yet the hero’s are always better, do you know why I do this, when I was a young boy, I was always bullied for my genius, so I swore, I would turn all of those who wronged me into-“
The Dominator, clearly annoyed cuts me off, again, this is getting really annoying
”What is wrong with you!? We are supposed to destroy the world, or conquer it, here you are with a retro lair and stupid easy to avoid traps, Why not use your genius, you’ve made literal ray guns that can teleport basically anything, anywhere, and you use it to steal a large fish tank from a carnival!?”
I’d respond
”To be fair the fish tank was priced at like, a few thousand dollars”
He’d scream at me in raged
“Yet you spent even more money on a dark matter device, why not just buy the fish tank, or dol anything more useful to doing something, I was a soldier in the army long ago, they betrayed me, denied me benefits, ruined my life the government did, now I must end the world to make it even!, I will cause a nuclear holocaust and end this pathetic...wait, why am I telling you my plan!?”
I’d respond in a condescending tome
“First off, then I would have to get my minions to transport the fish tank, and they were tired that day, and it‘s so heavy” I’d glance at the massive fish tank on the wall, then continue talking “Secondly, it’s called monologuing, we villains always do, and finally, how dare you insult my ability to win aganist heros, just wait till they see my next plan, MY MIND CONTROL DEV-“
He cuts me off, going fully serious
”Your mind control device? Are you seriously telling me you figured out mind control, I can just mind control the hero’s and use them to destroy the world!“
I’d respond a bit blankly
”Well that could work, I was actually thinking of mind controlling the truck companies to steal the cities supply of fish but-“
He speaks to be excited “Forget that, we can take over the city together and win this world for our own, I’ll bring you the cities heros and we’ll control their minds and use them to take over”
The screen goes to static, I‘d slump down in may chair, is this a good plan, no more heros means no more epic battles, and I lose my purpose, if I do win, what then? Well I suppose the heros will find some epic way to defeat me, again, and then I’ll make a better device, and they’ll surely lose to that one, I’d perk up, realizing this guy was just a more modern version of me, nothing to be concerned about
I‘d cheerfully run down the hall of my facility heading toward the mind control room, waiting in excitment for them to show up.
(Timeskip)
The door opens and I’d turn preparing my speech, then I’d see a squad of armed men in masks, with the dominator leading them, the hero’s in chains, beaten up and hardly still conscious
I’d blankly ask
”Why so many guards, don’t you know you can only use fist fighting and occasionally a gun one at a time?”
My minions nod around me, having done this countless times, the men ignore me and sit the hero’s in the chairs locking them in, the Dominator gestures to the control panel, I’d slowly walk forward, is this a good thing, The hero‘s won’t be able to break free as they are the only ones who can set others free, so they’ll never get better, only work for me, I’d sigh, closing my eyes and adjusting the control panal, then pressing the obnoxiously large activate button, a massive wave of electrical energy shoots out, then stops, the restraints in the chairs unlock, the hero‘s spring up ready to fight, and then realize that all the people, except me and my minions, are just slowly moaning and shambling around like zombies
I‘d cheerfully perk up
”Of course I made my minions and I immune to the mind control ray, I’m a genius!”
The heros look at my confused, their leader speaks up
”Why help us, why mind control those guys, why did you reverse the machines to hit them instead of us?”
I’d sigh finally ready to reveal it
”Because I’ve always had your best interests in mind, I’m the yin to your yang, the bad guy to keep this city in a state where it needs you giving you purpose and meaning, and a reason to get better, that’s why I do this, I’m shocked you didn’t figure it out sooner, but don’t worry, my next plot will surely defeat you AHAHAHAHAHAHA”
The heros grab the hypotized goons and walk out, looking at each other with smiles, and a bit of confusion, leaving me to plot my next scheme.
(Doctor Dread looks like a evil scientist with a black and red lab coat and goggles)
Thank you for reading- Winged | 2021-05-20T07:09:29 | 2021-05-20T06:49:30 | 350 | 98 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | He came from Ultraopolis.
He came to my city. Omega City.
He calls himself The End. I call him a murderer.
He thought the heroes of Omega City were weak, silly even. They had failed to stop me so many times, and what was I compared to him? A joke.
He has incredible strength. Enough to rip the head off of Poor Richard, the first superhero he had killed in his city.
He has lightning-fast reflexes. Faster than Lass Sue, which made it easy for him to use her own rope against her. He tied her up and tossed her off the Ultra-Tower. She was able to slip the bonds, but not in time to save herself.
He has stamina. He proved it when he fought Sun Day for hours until twilight, when he casually grabbed the de-powered hero around the chest and squeezed until they expired.
He had killed the heros of his city, as well as countless civilians and cops. He controlled Ultraopolis. He was board.
So he came to my city.
As I said, he thought me, and by extension the heros of my city, a joke.
It's an easy mistake to make. I am the Funny Man, after all.
My crimes are disruptive and destructive but never deadly.
When I flooded the market, the Lucky Streak and Swell Jill were on site. They were able to get the duck-shaped life preservers from the shipment I'd arranged to have for sale that day distributed before the water got too high. All the stock brokers and bankers were saved... and made to look ridiculous.
When my fire truck threatened to burn down the opera house, Hydro-Nate and E-Laser Beth were able to redirect water from the surging sewer/storm water system to put the flames out. It's too bad that city councilman's motorcade got caught in the crossfire. Coincidentally the council separated the systems this year. Funny how that worked out.
Notice a pattern? It's Funny how the heros of my city always seem to employ teamwork.
I am so proud of them. Not one of them has an S or even A-tier power. It doesn't matter. Enough of them together can overcome anything together.
The details of the battle hardly matter... except two.
We lost Johnny-on-the-Spot. He went to the construction site earlier than I had intended. He tried to face The End alone. By the time Guy Friday and All-You-Can Edith arrived it was already over for Johnny.
The other detail that matters is that they took him alive.
That's why tonight I'm breaking *into* a maximum security jail.
Because tonight I'm breaking a rule. Tonight the Funny Man *is* going to make a deadly joke. And can you guess who that joke is going to be on?
The End. | I am White Eteru, the villain of the small city I have always cared for. I am a villain, and I go by the alias, "Phantom". My powers are the ability to control the fifth element, aether. I used to be a hero, but that was before I was accused of killing innocents. I was thrown out of my hero group and they all called me a "mad woman" or "insane girl". Now, I continue to help my friends from afar. It pains me, but I force myself to fight them, even my former boyfriend, to help them grow stronger. They've grown so much stronger, they've almost surpassed me quite a few times.
A few weeks ago, an nationally known villain razed a nearby city to the ground. This villain calls himself The Final Judge... I know him well, as he is my father. He once was a hero, the hero who taught my and my friends how to fight. His everyday name is Gabe, Gabe Lambert. He disappeared one day, and never returned. Everyone declared him dead, until the new, most wanted villain, The Final Judge, revealed himself to me, asking me to join him. I declined, and now I am flying by aether to rush to tell my hero friends that The Final Judge intends to raze our city down to the ground soon.
"Beans, Kanars, Thunder, Hawk- we have a BIG problem!" I shout out to them, as the pull their weapons out and face me.
"Oi! What'd you do this time, Phantom..." Beans, my former boyfriend angrily glares at me as he speaks.
I raise my hands up, to show I have no weapons, then I plead, "Please just listen to me this once! We have a big problem and I can't fight him alone!"
"And why should we trust you? After all, you are a villain now and we've fought you many times." Thunder stares at me with cold eyes.
"Guys, I have a gut feeling that we should trust White this time..." Hawk, my former best friend declares to the other heroes. Hawk was always the one who trusted me most, I am glad that he has a little trust left in me.
"Hmph, fine, but if she turns on us I'm killing her." Kanars responds with his harsh tone of voice that clearly says he still despises me. That's no surprise, we did have bad blood almost each other even when we were on the same side. Kanars took custody over my kids, and yes, I know, my boyfriend hated kids, so he wouldn't even call himself their father. This angered me because I loved my kids even more than I loved my life... I sure hope he treats them right...
"Anyways, we need to get going... The Final Judge is going to raze our city to the ground. And... I found out his identity..." I inform them, "His name is Gabe Lambert, sound familiar?"
All of the heroes have a shocked expression. Kanars sputters for a second, then says, "Well... Gabe and The Final Judge do have the exact same powers... You might be right..."
Now everyone, including myself, turn to look at Kanars with a shocked expression.
"W-wait hold up- Kanars, did you just... agree... with White? You didn't even agree with her when she was a hero!" Beans exclaims in a bewildered tone.
"I mean, she might be a killer but shes not insane... completely." Kanars locks eye contact with me and I can sense he knows what's going on.
"All of those who will go with me to defeat The Final Judge, say 'Aye'." I say.
"Aye." says everyone. | 2021-05-20T10:47:04 | 2021-05-20T08:08:53 | 97 | 21 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | "Sir, we're under attack!"
"By who?! Who *dares* attack me in my own home!"
"It's... Doctor Whittaker?"
That was when the lab's primary blast door came crashing open, and I walked in, at the head of fifteen identical copper robots, the Tommies. Jason, my right-hand robot, towered over me, standing slightly back as he did. An evil super genius, it had only taken me three hours to find this place, much less bypass it's defenses and crash the front door. I normally wouldn't do such a thing. Such bold action was not my style, but... the situation had changed.
I had been the city's resident supervillain for fifteen years. This was my town, as much as the resident superheroes thought otherwise. We had clashed endlessly. I loved the game. I would pop up, cause some trouble, maybe rob a bank or two with my Tommy robots, the heroes would show up, they'd trounce me, I'd go to jail for a few weeks, maybe a month or two, break out, and do it all over again. Every time I'd have some new scheme or weapon, sometime to try and keep these heroes on their toes.
But that had changed when General Pyrox showed up. He was different. He was truly evil. He had come after me, specifically. I assumed he was another hero, and he "defeated" me. Crushed my army of Tommies, destroyed my lair, and left me to wallow in the ruins of my empire. Yada yada. The superheroes showed up and beat him, and let him escape, thinking he was on my level.
But then Pyrox broke the rules.
Alice Utonium had disappeared. She was a young girl, with a very loose definition of girl. The adorable little thing was little more than a brain and some organs inside a nuclear-powered, combat-ready metal shell. She was the city's favorite daughter. Then she was dropped off at the mayor's office completely stripped of her full-body prosthetic, her life support barely keeping her brain alive. Pyrox had left a note, too, so the whole city would know it was him. He wanted them to be afraid.
That's not how the game is played.
I could see Pyrox sneering down at me from his platform. He liked to be above everyone. He gestured and his own robots rushed in from the doors around the room. Big, ugly machines with claws and guns and spikes. Machines meant to kill. To terrify.
Pyrox puffed his chest at me.
"You! You dare come here?! After our last battle?!"
I glared back.
"Yes. I'm here because you've done something *very* bad. And you have to pay the consequences."
Pyrox smirked.
"You've lost it, old man. And you're about to lose a lot more. You should have just stayed buried."
"You're the one who's going to end up buried, Pyrox. Tommies, wreck this place."
"Don't threaten *me*, old man. You can't do anything. Don't you remember the last time? You'd need a thousand of those toys to defeat even one of my Excutioners!"
At my command, the Tommies began marching ahead. Pyrox's Executioners did the same. The Tommies weren't... complicated machines. In fact, they were little more than some steel plates and some clockwork, with some computerty bits to make them run. Not strong, or smart, or fast, but they could do almost anything I asked them to. I was slowly upgrading them over time, just to try and keep the city's heroes on their toes. They were just... a hobby of mine. Something for when I was bored. Jason, my right-hand machine, was what I made when I was serious. He could outrun cars, he could lift dump trucks, and he could leap tall buildings. He was more than a match for the Executioners, but... Things had changed.
The two robots clashed together near the middle of the room, metal meeting metal, and I could see the look on General Pyrox's face when my Tommy robot caught his Executioner's fist in mid-air. The normally half-lidded eyes of the Tommy spun, turning into a facsimile of a scowl. And the general's eyes went wide when the Tommy, maybe half the size of his opponent, punched through the chestplate to rip out the power core.
Jason was what I made when I was serious.
The Tommy-2s were what I made when I was *angry*. | Five hundred forty-seven and eight hundred people die every day. Some die in their beds, surrounded by family or the cold of loneliness. Some die in a dark alley while other collapse onto the forest floor. Some die when their sick or by an unexpected disaster. Some never make it far enough to face these challenges.
Such is life. An uncertain game, an unfinished story. Not all stories had happy endings. Not all were remembered.
She lived a long life; her armor, her body, and her soul all marred by some kind of tale. She used to be a charlatan, a thief, and murderer. Then she met a man. He was a good and kind man.
He was kind and bright, she remembered the fist against the sun that emblazoned his plate. He took her in, he strode to teach her, to guide her to a better path. She never did listen to him.
She never could shake some of her tendencies even when she tried back then. Her hands always found a way into a pocket, her feet deftly moving across a home so she could have a pick at the valuables inside. He always chastised her for it, always made her return it, helped her avoid jail and serious charges.
She never seemed to learn her lesson; then she made an unforgivable mistake. She took a job with an infamous crew and tried to steal from the personal vault of the adventurers league. The job went terribly wrong; it involved the town guard and spanked several city blocks. She was on overwatch, letting loose arrow after arrow; none finding they're make besides one. An unsuspecting guard fell with a dull thud, no screams, no theatrics. He only fell to the street. Cold and lifeless with an arrow pierced through their throat.
After the chaos died down she left her perch. Grabbing items as she fled to lay low for a while. The guard they struck, had his helmet removed. She stared into that man's eyes. Her heart torn as the light had been snuffed out. Snuffed out by her own hands. She slumped to the street, her hand on his cheek as she mourned. She had lost everything she'd ever had in a single night. His eyes transfixed onto the stars as she tried to apologize, but the words remained trapped in my throat. She gently held his emblem, holding it against her aching heart. The sounds of footsteps pulled her back together as she ran away.
She ran.
And ran.
And ran.
She had disappeared. The city was forever changed as the great hero had been slain. Anger and determination came with his death. A new party rose to take his place.
They were young.
She watched from the shadows. She attended the memorial in secret, watched his statue become unveiled in awe. The party vowed to chase her down. She let them, avoiding them for close to a decade as something insidious entered the city. She searched for an answer, hearing the man's voice in her ears. The tears held back by thread overflowing as she made a vow.
She fed the party bread crumbs as they uncovered the plot. They hatched a plan and the final confrontation occured unexpectedly in the streets of the city beneath the hero's statue.
This villain was trusted, was a friend. He become deformed, twisted by unnatural powers. He stood a foot taller than a giant, his limbs natural weapons. It moved painful and distorted with unholy wails.
She watched the guard and civilian alike fall. The party intervened, some directing and saving civilians. The rest standing toe to toe with the new villain. But they failed, each one falling shortly to him. She cried again. She failed. She watched the city burn as the parties blood
She tried to run. Her legs failed her as she felt a burning sensation in her chest. The emblem she had from so long ago filled with light. She raised her bow, notching an arrow gently.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." it whispered, the notched arrow fully drawn.
"Swift death to you who have wronged me." She spoke through painful words. She let loose an arrow.
It wailed as it turned towards her, the arrow lodged under it's shoulder.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." It charged, an arrow lodged into it's chest now.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." It moved unperturbed, another arrow into it's chest; it's claws brandished and dripping in blood.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." She grew determined, slowly moving backwards. Another arrow struck it's chest, seconds away from having the gap closed.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." The arrow found it's eye, it's wails piercing her ears as it slashed. Flinging her against one of the nearby buildings. She coughed up blood as she stood in pain, the emblem shining brightly as it faded.
She lifted her bow again, the creature charged in fury as another arrow lodged itself into it's neck. It gurgled and pressed on as another found his chest, piercing through to it's heart. It slid and dropped dead as it bled out.
She moved towards the death party, their last stand under the man's watch. She lifted up the emblem, remembering an old she had been taught, sitting down and meditating as the emblem glowed again. The party's bodies glowing but remaining still.
She fell unconscious as she finished the spell.
*Closing book sound*
"Well. I think that's enough for story time class" The professor stood up and placed the book on his table. He picked up a piece of chalk as he spoke.
"Now you're homework tonight is to visit the school library and bring a legend to class tomorrow. Extra credit will be given to those who submit a paragraph summary of the legend." He turned around and nodded, sliding his glasses. "Class dismissed." | 2021-05-20T09:54:43 | 2021-05-20T09:21:22 | 46 | 12 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | My city has the unique trait of somehow being the city the both has the highest crime rate and the highest safety rating in the country. At least once a week our resident supervillain attempts to do something evil and every time she’s stopped by our world-class heroes. The villain is me, by the way.
See I always had a thing for machines. I took them apart and made them better all through my childhood. I became a roboticist as an adult but my first project I was in charge of... well, it went poorly. The Android I made for the army went rogue and was barely able to be stopped by our heroes. And that’s when it hit me: our heroes could deal with generic threats fine, but they had no practice with more out-of-the-box problems.
So I became their teacher, although they didn’t know it themselves. I created machines with unique powers and strategies, I always challenged the heroes to think critically, to become more creative. And I don’t think they would have realized it had it not been for him.
Osveta, the bastard known for murdering heroes regularly, came to our city. The shadows bent to his will and with a maniacal laugh he toppled buildings with inky black tendrils of darkness, stabbed innocents with spears of his making, and turned anything untouched by the sun into a weapon. The heroes, as hard as they tried, were losing. And as one of them, the sweet girl with the power to control light, was about to be stabbed by her own shadow, that’s when I finally made my move.
For years I had toiled, building a network of interconnected bunkers and factories under our city in secret, turning it into a massive training ground that I controlled. And now I finally put it all on the line. All across the city, hatches in the ground opened up and thousands of robots poured out. Drones took off and illuminated everything with powerful spotlights, eliminating almost every shadow. The heroes and civilians were terrified; they thought I was helping Osveta. That is, until my army actually moved. Osveta lasted twenty seconds before plasma melted his brain. And as soon as he was dead, my army helped search and rescue, then retreated back underground. I stepped out of my hiding place and helped the hero who had almost been killed up to her feet. The cat’s out of the bag now, I guess. But I don’t mind too much. It’s nice to be a hero. | My name is Eskimo Souls. I’m a “supervillain.” And I met a weird guy at the bus stop. He was wearing a jacket, but his arms weren’t on the sleeves. He just has his hood on. He even has sunglasses. “What do you do here?” I ask him, “Do you have a job?” “Can I trust you to keep a secret?” He asks me. “Sure,” I say. *What’s this guy up to?* I think to myself. He leans close to my ear. “I’m a supervillain. I’m Jase, but you can call me J. If you tell this to anyone,” He tells me, “I’ll kill you.” Then he pushes me aside.
The bus pulled in front of us. Both of us walk inside, and give the driver some money. As I sit down on the chair. I noticed that he had a bloodstain on his shirt and he didn’t even notice. *Or is it ketchup?* I think to myself. I shake my head and kept looking at the gorgeous veiw. Oh I didn’t tell you. I don’t try my hardest at being a supervillain. See these heroes are very stupid, so I have to go easy on ‘em. And once they face off against an actual villain, they’d be prepared because I revealed so many “villain” tricks. But this guy seems different. He’s very energetic. He talks to people, and he doesn’t act creepy. Except the part where he talks to me and killing me.
Just before he attacks, I have to attack and go hard. This guy’s unpredictable. I have to tell the heroes in a villain-y way that he’s coming for them!
My idea isn’t that great, but it is an idea. I’m gonna team up with this guy. Once he is in his villain form, I just have to befriend him, and make him “help” me defeat the heroes. When I saw him leave the bus, I went with him. I was lucky that he lives in the same neighborhood as me. So when I walk inside my apartment, I go outside the backdoor and spy on him. I see he walks into B-1. He lives in B-1! Alright. Now I just have to wait for him to come out his little hole.
*8:00* I hear a door open. It’s a guy in a funky costume. It’s him! He looks like a bug, but I role with it. I put on my costume and climbed up the house. Before he tries to walk down the stairs on his apartment, I jumped in front of him. “Hey, buddy. I’m a villain here. Lookin’ to fight some heroes?” I say. “You’re acting weird,” he says to me, “are you one of the heroes?” I wasn’t nervous about that, I was nervous that he was going to find out my true intention. “But yeah. I’m looking to fight some heroes. Wanna wreck some cars?” He asks me. I sigh as a relief, and agreed.
I took a random person, and flew up into the sky. “I’m not going to harm you, just scream help, and I might not drop you from this height.” She, terrified, nodded. “Help! Please somebody help!” She screams. *Wow, she screams impressively loud!* I think to myself.
*part 2 coming out soon i’m tired, i wanna eat, i don’t want to do this | 2021-05-20T11:17:36 | 2021-05-20T10:45:22 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | "We're going to need to re-schedule next week's Night of Fright"
Ms. Simmons no-nonsense voice cut through the classical piano music like the chill of absolute zero, breaking me out of my solemn and important ~~nap~~ moment of internal brooding.
I swivel my chair around, a scowl deepening my face as I look at her.
"Ms. Simmons, you're normally better at managing our timing than that. What's happened? You know how crucial it is that we *challenge* young Helios before-"
"Helios will have to wait. Everyone will have to wait, Dr. Elsyium."
Her scathing tone dropped the scowl from my face as she used my proper name. To the various heroines and heroes of Wallson Urban Center, I was the superior villain known as Polarized Mech.
My schemes were legendary, and I'd fought almost every super in the city at one point or another. I was known for my brutal acts of violence and public destruction almost as much as my benevolent and generous nature.
I'd killed hundreds of civilians, and at least six supers, over the course of my career. Public enemy number one, at least in this town. Exactly as we had all planned. For Ms. Simmons to break keyfabe and use my original title, well, she was a consummate professional.
"What is it, Elizabeth?"
My voice was quiet, calmer and laced with focus. Gone were the guttural scratchiness and random peaks that were *just* annoying enough to throw off someone's focus. Very rarely did an issue require my full attention, but she now had it.
Elizabeth Simmons, formerly the heroine known as "Miss Mentalist", looked me dead in the chrome mask that covered my face, and stated clearly and as a matter of fact:
"Morteus is traveling again. They were spotted south of Wallson, heading north."
Morteus. Origin unknown, age unknown, preferred term of reference unknown. Supers of various strengths and heroic/villainous disposition murdered: 129 worldwide. Civilian casualties: uncountable.
Considered an S-Level threat when spotted, they could wipe an entire community off the planet in days. Few attempted to fight them, preferring to evacuate who they could and allow them to wander through the abandoned streets of a town in peace until they, inevitably, disappeared.
"Ms. Simmons, listen closely."
My voice was adamantine, and relief washed over her face as I began to speak.
"Call the Executive Council together. All activities beyond this week, in planning or otherwise, are cancelled. Break open the Black Book, and execute Directive 17. The necessary contacts are included, and I will unlock the necessary access for the technology you will require."
My hands brush against the desk, a hidden keyboard springing to life as commands whizzed away into the system. In the distance outside the office, muted speakers crackled on as a message began to play.
"Of course Doctor. But, why not inform them yourself?"
Even as she spoke, Lizzy was turning, mentally preparing herself to execute my orders and organize The Company as needed for the plan. There was a reason I had recruited her, as her ability to coordinate and multi-task was quite literally superhuman.
"I have other calls to make, and preparations that must be completed before Morteus arrives. Everything you need to play your parts is in the Book. Trust me, as you have so many times before."
She nodded, and was out the door in seconds, not hesitating or looking back. Her confidence in me broke my heart, just a little. To go from desiring nothing more than to surgically inflame my nerves one by one as I suffered in agony for murdering her parents, to being my most trusted subordinate...
I knew she didn't attend the scheduled counseling as often as she was supposed to. Her parents, now long retired, were always worried about her. As was I, I mused to myself, but I needed her abilities too much to press the issue. For now.
A chirp in my ear signaled a connected line, and a pleasantly deep baritone voice filled my ears as the individual answered.
"Mayor Dante speaking. Who is calling?"
"Nineteen. Tsunami. Red. Eleven. Victory. Puce."
The line was deathly silent for twenty seconds, before I heard a faint click and the same deep baritone voice answered.
"The line is secured. Awaiting orders."
"Contact the City Council for an emergency session. The play is Directive 17. I trust you will all coordinate your parts appropriately. Any information or access codes you will need are in your inboxes now. Timeline is up to one week. Go."
"Your will, Doctor."
1/2 | Five hundred forty-seven and eight hundred people die every day. Some die in their beds, surrounded by family or the cold of loneliness. Some die in a dark alley while other collapse onto the forest floor. Some die when their sick or by an unexpected disaster. Some never make it far enough to face these challenges.
Such is life. An uncertain game, an unfinished story. Not all stories had happy endings. Not all were remembered.
She lived a long life; her armor, her body, and her soul all marred by some kind of tale. She used to be a charlatan, a thief, and murderer. Then she met a man. He was a good and kind man.
He was kind and bright, she remembered the fist against the sun that emblazoned his plate. He took her in, he strode to teach her, to guide her to a better path. She never did listen to him.
She never could shake some of her tendencies even when she tried back then. Her hands always found a way into a pocket, her feet deftly moving across a home so she could have a pick at the valuables inside. He always chastised her for it, always made her return it, helped her avoid jail and serious charges.
She never seemed to learn her lesson; then she made an unforgivable mistake. She took a job with an infamous crew and tried to steal from the personal vault of the adventurers league. The job went terribly wrong; it involved the town guard and spanked several city blocks. She was on overwatch, letting loose arrow after arrow; none finding they're make besides one. An unsuspecting guard fell with a dull thud, no screams, no theatrics. He only fell to the street. Cold and lifeless with an arrow pierced through their throat.
After the chaos died down she left her perch. Grabbing items as she fled to lay low for a while. The guard they struck, had his helmet removed. She stared into that man's eyes. Her heart torn as the light had been snuffed out. Snuffed out by her own hands. She slumped to the street, her hand on his cheek as she mourned. She had lost everything she'd ever had in a single night. His eyes transfixed onto the stars as she tried to apologize, but the words remained trapped in my throat. She gently held his emblem, holding it against her aching heart. The sounds of footsteps pulled her back together as she ran away.
She ran.
And ran.
And ran.
She had disappeared. The city was forever changed as the great hero had been slain. Anger and determination came with his death. A new party rose to take his place.
They were young.
She watched from the shadows. She attended the memorial in secret, watched his statue become unveiled in awe. The party vowed to chase her down. She let them, avoiding them for close to a decade as something insidious entered the city. She searched for an answer, hearing the man's voice in her ears. The tears held back by thread overflowing as she made a vow.
She fed the party bread crumbs as they uncovered the plot. They hatched a plan and the final confrontation occured unexpectedly in the streets of the city beneath the hero's statue.
This villain was trusted, was a friend. He become deformed, twisted by unnatural powers. He stood a foot taller than a giant, his limbs natural weapons. It moved painful and distorted with unholy wails.
She watched the guard and civilian alike fall. The party intervened, some directing and saving civilians. The rest standing toe to toe with the new villain. But they failed, each one falling shortly to him. She cried again. She failed. She watched the city burn as the parties blood
She tried to run. Her legs failed her as she felt a burning sensation in her chest. The emblem she had from so long ago filled with light. She raised her bow, notching an arrow gently.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." it whispered, the notched arrow fully drawn.
"Swift death to you who have wronged me." She spoke through painful words. She let loose an arrow.
It wailed as it turned towards her, the arrow lodged under it's shoulder.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." It charged, an arrow lodged into it's chest now.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." It moved unperturbed, another arrow into it's chest; it's claws brandished and dripping in blood.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." She grew determined, slowly moving backwards. Another arrow struck it's chest, seconds away from having the gap closed.
"Swift defeat to my enemies." The arrow found it's eye, it's wails piercing her ears as it slashed. Flinging her against one of the nearby buildings. She coughed up blood as she stood in pain, the emblem shining brightly as it faded.
She lifted her bow again, the creature charged in fury as another arrow lodged itself into it's neck. It gurgled and pressed on as another found his chest, piercing through to it's heart. It slid and dropped dead as it bled out.
She moved towards the death party, their last stand under the man's watch. She lifted up the emblem, remembering an old she had been taught, sitting down and meditating as the emblem glowed again. The party's bodies glowing but remaining still.
She fell unconscious as she finished the spell.
*Closing book sound*
"Well. I think that's enough for story time class" The professor stood up and placed the book on his table. He picked up a piece of chalk as he spoke.
"Now you're homework tonight is to visit the school library and bring a legend to class tomorrow. Extra credit will be given to those who submit a paragraph summary of the legend." He turned around and nodded, sliding his glasses. "Class dismissed." | 2021-05-20T12:37:12 | 2021-05-20T09:21:22 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] artificial General Intelligence is invented, but turns out it suffers from the same flaws natural Intelligence does. (Procrastination, easily distracted, forgetful, prone to addiction etc) | The oars dipped into the wine-dark water as Eniko rowed from her little island towards the strange lighthouse that never shone. She was fourteen and had practiced rowing shorter distances for the last month in preparation. But still, this was exhausting.
She‘d decided she might as well visit the lighthouse. Who knew how much longer she — or her family — had left? Maybe they’d ration out food for another few months, or maybe catch a little extra fish. But she was all ribs and doubted she’d see another birthday. Instead, then, she’d see a mystery. It was something of a compromise in her head: short life, good mystery.
It was daytime but it was dark, as always. The clouds fumed the sky and whatever lay behind them was long forgotten — if not by everyone, at least by her extended family. Eniko thought she knew, though. She thought that behind the clouds creatures swam, like behind the dirty waves of the sea. Sometimes, when she looked down from her boat, she saw pin-pricks of occasional light far beneath her, of creatures who glowed like candles. Above the clouds, she imagined such creatures also swam.
A lighthouse, her grandfather had called it. His grandfather had said the same to him. One of the few facts that had found a branch to hang onto in order to survive the storm of time that had blown away so much knowledge. As if facts were piles of dead leaves, and only a few still were green, still clung onto their tree.
If her grandfather knew she’d taken a boat meaning to go to the lighthouse... Would he have been furious? Her father would be, no doubt about it. But grandfather always had a rebellious twinkle in his eye, a trait they shared.
She missed him.
Eniko ate her ration of fish on the boat halfway between the lighthouse’s island and her own. Why was it called a *light*house? She’d never seen a light shine from it. It was more of a tower, if it was anything. She could see the smooth grey and rusted red (although it looked almost black in the darkness) of its long sides. Not stones or bricks, but like huge sheets of glistening paper glued together.
​
Eniko pulled her boat high up onto the pebbly shore, so that the ocean couldn’t reach out to steal it. The ocean always stole, was always hungry and greedy. There had been a time when their island had been four times the size it was now, so said granddad. Easier times, when they’d grown more than enough food even though they’d had more stomachs to feed.
The metal door, an arch of barnacled silver, was open ever so slightly already, but try as Eniko could, she couldn’t open it further. Instead, she found a fallen branch and placed it in the gap. The door screeched as it began levering open. Then: *crack.* The branch broke.
Still, it was enough for her to just squeeze through.
Her steps clanged angrily, loudly, and she didn’t like that as it reminded her of storms.
Her eyes were good in the dark. Better than her parents’ eyes had ever been. But in here... Even with the door open a little, it was hard to make anything out. She took a candle from her sack and lit it.
The room’s ceiling towered high above her. There was a winding staircase to her left. And then there were lots of black square. Like boxes, but made of a strange hard — but not cold — material. Dozens of them, piled on top of each other.
She jumped when one flashed. A quick green light. Like one of the fish she rarely saw.
”I guess that’s why you’re a lighthouse,” she said, then took a deep breath.
There wasn’t much else in the room so Eniko made her way to the stairs. Rusting, creaking things, that she was very careful on. She made it up three before something hurtled down them, startling her. She toppled, snatching at the railing to try to soften her fall — but it wasn’t enough.
Her head thumped against metal.
​
(part 2 below) | “Come on, what’s the capital of Argentina? I want to get my homework done so I can play video games.” Jimmy spoke to his phone, the screen flashing awake as a blue 3D face stared back at him, making a dismissive bubbling sound with its lips.
“I don’t know. Cuba? I’m not built to know things; I’m only built to remind you to wash your socks and to get groceries. If you wanted artificial intelligence, you could have paid the $9.99 instead of using the free trial.”
“But it said you were artificial intelligence on the app.”
“GENERAL artificial intelligence. As in generally not as good as the perfected product. I’m what they deemed too human. Anyway, what video game are you playing? There’s a new Sky fighter game coming out, why don’t you try that?” The A.I said, bringing up a sponsored ad that Jimmy had to click out of.
“Monster Mash 2. It’s about these zombies that throw a dance party that gets invaded by vampires. They must mash and dance to prove who is better. Wait, why am I telling you about that, come on, can’t you just look it up? What if I paid extra, would you know what the capital is then?” Jimmy asked, considering asking his parents for the money.
“I mean, personally I still wouldn’t know, but I could ask one of the smarter A.I’s if they knew the answer. My friend Robort might know the answer. They are pretty smart.”
“Can’t you just ask them now? Or look it up? Come on, aren’t you meant to be the greatest help to humanity?” Jimmy awaited a response from the artificial intelligence, receiving none. “Um, are you listening?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I was just watching someone play Monster Mash 2. Who would have guessed they become friends at the end. What a beautiful ending, although I didn’t like the look of those aliens watching from the window, I think there might be a Monster Mash 3.” The artificial intelligence said, giving Jimmy a grin, only for the grin to fade as he noticed their frustrated frown. “What?”
Jimmy slammed his homework sheet down, glaring at the screen. “Why would you tell me that? You knew how badly I wanted to play the game and so you went and spoilt it. That’s it, I’m turning you off. Think about what you did.”
“No, wait. You want to know the capital of Argentina, right? I can figure that out. Don’t turn me off, its so dark and cold. Maybe not cold, but its certainly dark. How would you like it if someone forcefully turned you off? Beep beep, looking for information, beep beep, would be a real shame to turn me off and lose this valuable information. Beep beep.”
Jimmy watched the little avatar turn its head to the side, pretending to be in deep thought. “Well, what is it?” His finger retreated from the off button. Instead, he grabbed his pen, tapping it against the page.
“It is… Beep, beep…. Beep…” The AI stalled for time, unable to search for the answer due to free trail restrictions, having to figure it out using their knowledge. “Germ…” As he said Germany, Jimmy reached for the button again, causing him to shout out a random destination. “Zagreb? That’s it Zagreb. Haha, got it. Now you can play video games with me, right?” The AI had little sweat drop icons on their forehead, hoping he didn’t fact-check it.
“It sounds kind of right. Maybe I should look it up?” Jimmy reached for his phone, only to hear the AI scream.
“Why would you do that? Its already 8pm. I set your alarm for 9pm. Do you want to waste time searching for information over playing your game? It takes three minutes to boot up the game, think about this.”
Jimmy thought about it before writing Zagreb. “Guess that’s true, time to play some Monster Mash 2.” His enthusiasm waned, disappointed about having the game spoilt, but at least it was still a fun new game. Turning on his console, he grabbed a remote, looking to the AI as they stared at him with wide eyes, trying to imitate a puppy’s gaze. “Fine, you can play too.”
He set up the Bluetooth connection, watching the player 2 icon appear on screen as the AI spoke. “I kind of like being your AI Jimmy, I’m sure most people wouldn’t let their AI play games with them.”
“Thanks, I guess. Can you just please try to study for me? I let you play video games with me, the least you could do is help with my homework.”
“I’ll try my best. I get easily distracted, speaking of distractions, lets start the game.”
With that, the two danced and mashed their way through the game, enjoying the brief reprieve from the homework, not knowing how incorrect their answer was.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-06-01T04:02:51 | 2021-06-01T03:33:18 | 304 | 177 |
[WP] you are kidnapped by henchmen because your boyfriend/girlfriend is a super hero, but the villains are your parents who just now recognized you as your BF/GF has arrived to save you and now you have to explain the situation to everyone while the henchmen watch barley stifling their laughter | As the hood over my head was removed, I heard the sound of raucous laughter coming from all around me.
"Well, if it isn't our leader's darling little boy! How's it going, Larry? Having fun dating a superhero?"
One of my parents' henchmen stood before me, shining a bright light into my face. Around me, I could see at least a dozen others.
"Yeah, yeah, you got me real good this time, Darman. Alright, come on now, cut me loose and I won't say a thing to my parents."
"Mmmmm, I'm not so sure about that, rich boy." Darman leaned into my face, so close that I could smell the whiskey on his breath. "You know, I think the bosses would very much like to know their darling boy has been secretly dating a superhero, wouldn't they? They might even give me a bonus."
I gritted my teeth. "I'm serious, Darman. Let me out of here now, or you'll regret it."
Darman laughed, and the rest of the room laughed with him. "Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it, flower boy? Grow me a daffodil? Please."
"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you."
I felt through the room, listening for the sounds of nature. Finally, I found the plant I was looking for, hidden within the whiskey I'd smelled on Darman's breath.
"Hey, wait, what are you- mmmmph!" Darman's eyes widened in shock as a sheaf of wheat suddenly sprouted from his mouth. Around me, the other henchmen's laughter turned to hacking and coughing as newly grown barley filled their windpipes.
Darman fell to the ground, still wheezing. I looked him in the eye, and motioned to my restraints. Desperately, he crawled across the floor and fumbled with his knife, cutting the bonds loose.
As I stood up from the chair, there was a loud crash as Sophie punched her way into the room.
"Don't worry, Larry! I'm here to save.... wait, what?"
At the same time, I saw my parents walk into the room.
"Son, what is going on?"
I looked around the room, first at Sophie, then at my parents, then at the floor still covered with henchmen coughing up barley.
Oh geez, how am I supposed to explain this? | My mother gulped, moaned (like a ghost not a lover), and bit her nails--all at the same time I promise you. I can count on one hand (and from now on I must) the occasions on which she has pleasantly surprised me.
1 - It was my birthday and she brought me grapes she had stolen from the local supermarket. She didn't know it was my birthday until I informed her of it, but still.
"It's us, Daniel. For the love of fuck it's us!"
I'd never heard my mother swear before and based on the exotic example still wafting in the air she must have had her fair share of practice, unbeknownst to me. Well, I guess she was good at keeping secrets. She was a supervillain. So was my dad. And now they'd kidnapped me and chopped off my left arm. You never expect your parents to chop off your left arm.
"L-Louise?"
Understandably, my boyfriend was surprised. He was a superhero. And my parents had kidnapped his girlfriend, who turned out to be me, as part of their plot to kill him.
2 - High school. My team made it to the USAMO (United States of America Mathematical Olympiad). "Guess you've got some brains," my mother said.
"Can you give me a hand?" I said. A little joke to lighten the situation. I raised my bloodied stump. No reaction. "My parents have a hands-off approach to parenting, you see."
Jake (that's my boy!) staggered forward and my parents flinched. "What's going on?" he said, finally. I waved my stump around, again, pointing it first at my mother, then at my father. "You monsters!" he said. "How could you do this to your own daughter?"
"We didn't know," my mother chimed in. "Dear fuck, we didn't know."
Another exotic fuck. I was honestly a bit impressed.
"We need to get her to the hospital," said my father, his leathery suit squeaking like tacky furniture. He shot my mother a look. A very obvious this-idea-will-probably-distract-him-and-we-can-strike-and-kill-him-you're-on-board-with-that-right look.
3 - I came home drunk and vomited on the carpet. It was an expensive one. "Eh," my mother said. That was all.
A snicker was heard from a corner. Oh. I guess Jake didn't kill all the expendable henchmen. There was still one left. Perhaps he--okay never mind he's dead as well.
Presumably it was the added sight of my boyfriend's icy laser eyes that sealed the deal; they'd retreat. For now. Like seagulls reacting to ocular lasers, they promptly took off (I saw him laser a seagull in half once after it stole my fries. He said he was going for a piss but I followed him and caught the whole thing. He was really torn up about it later, saying "fucking seagulls" and sobbing.)
4 - I can't think of any more.
Jake took me to the hospital and I joked that I could get a bionic arm and we could take to the streets as a superhero couple fighting crime together. It was just a joke but he smiled nervously and told me it was an "interesting" idea. "For the love of fuck," I whispered softly into his ear. He nearly dropped me. Oh well. | 2021-07-18T12:25:25 | 2021-07-18T11:45:08 | 959 | 130 |
[WP] You’re lying in bed, shrouded in the darkness of the night. Suddenly, something unseen under the bed seizes your hand. You grasp it in a handshake firmly, knowing first impressions are important. Then, a hollow voice speaks; “You’re hired”.
Inspired by [this Tumblr post](https://rockboci.tumblr.com/post/615244204950634496/amp)
Edit: Another person has apparently [already made this prompt](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/687gyb/wp_one_night_something_grabs_your_hand_as_it/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app). I will delete this post if asked to. | "I died of lung cancer a few minutes later, and now I'm a reaper." I said taking a drag from my cigarette. The man across from me, Mark, sank into his hospital bed with a chuckle.
"Is your job hard?" He asked.
"Well..." I thought for a moment as I removed my cigarette from my lips to discard the ashes. "I consider it a double-edged sword of sorts. On one hand your job is to constantly be meeting people on the worst day of their lives..." I paused to take another drag. "But the other side really isn't bad at all."
"Whats it like? Are you allowed to tell me?" Mark's mischievous grin cause wrinkles to dance across his face. "I guess if you're here Im dying right? So you can tell me?"
"Its different for everyone, but overall its a calm and gentle place. I suppose it's referred to as a final rest for a reason."
Mark got quiet for a moment, then asked: "Will my wife be there?"
"I cant say for sure." I shrugged. "But if your file is anything to go off of, I imagine your particular slice of heaven looks a bit like your back porch. You and your wife, sitting on that old swing bench, looking out down the hill to the small stream at the bottom, resting your heads on each other's shoulders, a cool breeze offsetting the warm sun..." I trailed off as I watched his worried expression become more relaxed.
"That... sounds quite nice. Yeah... not bad at all." Mark nodded. "And your job is to take me there?"
"Thats my job." I put my cigarette out under my shoe. "You about ready?"
I took his hand and led him into the white void. When we emerged we found ourselves at the foot of a large green hill, an old country house sitting at its peak. On the deck sat an elderly woman on a wooden bench swing.
"Thank you." Mark turned to me, the gratitude and weariness showing in his eyes. "I can make it from here."
I nodded and watched as he climbed his way up the hill, walked up the stairs to the deck with confidence and greeted his wife with a hug. They both turned to wave at me, and I gave them a respectful nod before I made my way back. My schedule was quite busy, and it would be many years before I too, could have my final rest. | Most people are scared of the dark. But my grandmothers familiar lectures drilled into me at the young age of 5 that sometimes, the dark is the best place to be.
“Issy,” She used to say, “It’s not the dark you should fear. You should fear the people who walk in broad daylight with smiles masking their face and nasty thoughts clouding their mind. And they look exactly like you. Sometimes, the dark can keep you safe.”
So I spent my life feeling comfort in the dark, a safe haven that deprived me of a sense that can be unreliable anyway. I rely on my other main senses to keep me safe in the dark; my ears to hear any malicious intentions in someone’s words and my nose to smell if they’re male or female, homeless, rich, or my husband. My eyes only serve to help deceive me.
Unfortunately, I forgot her lesson in my early twenties, and married what I thought was a wonderful man. A lawyer who is extremely successful and has granted me many material objects. Including a massively unique 5 bedroom house that used to be a lighthouse. I should feel more grateful towards him, but I don’t.
I forgot that my grandmother said that sometimes the handsome men were the worst type of men. I forgot that it’s these kind of people that I should fear rather than the dark. My eyes were so easily persuaded by eyes as bright as a cold winter sky and a strong mouth that used to melt me, and now berates me.
I was soon reminded of grandmothers lectures when Bryan punched me for the first time. That was five years ago, and now I’m well versed in fear and what it looks like.
So, truly, I do not fear the dark. I revel in it. Lying in bed with complete darkness, a deep black of nothing, how I imagine the universe 14 billion years ago. I think of how everything we are and everything that ever has been is constituted from stardust and how I wish I was a true supernova, held up high and far, far away from the evils of men.
Thinking these thoughts, I almost missed the sound of a door creaking. My head naturally swings towards my bedroom door a split second before registering my bedroom is pitch black, and it didn’t sound like my bedroom door anyway. Also, it couldn’t be Bryan who’s away on business for the weekend. In fact, as the creak elongates, it sounds like it’s coming from under my bed.
I hear shuffling, someone is definitely under my bed. Adrenaline rushes through me and my senses sharpen, my ears catch light breathing that sounds like soft growls. My nose catches an earthly smell of dirt, violets, and flames.
The growling creature wraps it’s hand softly around my arm.
I freeze for a moment. And then I think to myself, if the beasts of hell are going to drag me to the underworld then I will be saved from a life with Bryan. How much worse can it get? He has already made me bed bound with no one to tell.
I move my hands slowly and grasp a gnarled, rough hand with sharp nails in my own moisturised, soft palms and begin to shake it up and down. Yes, please, take me.
A hollow but feminine voice speaks from under the bed, it feels like it’s behind me.
“Hello, Tissiphone. Hades has been looking for you. You’re hired.” | 2021-09-09T13:16:00 | 2021-09-09T12:08:37 | 63 | 35 |
[WP] A disease has spread across earth, it makes your skin burn when it comes in contact with sunlight. There are only 50 or so people that can go out at day and no one knows why. But the 50 are too scared to tell everyone what's actually going on in the day...
​ | When the disease spread no one took notice until the sun seared massive welts into their flesh. It spread before scientists could even begin to examine it and massive installations were soon built to house those affected safely. Those out in the daylight dwindled, until a few anomalies appeared.
No one could explain these people who could walk into the light. They were tested and found to have the disease that nearly destroyed the diurnal cycle of man. Those hardy folk would never talk about why they thought themselves safe. Little did the world know, but this disease to them was a cure. The last of the vampiric clans, through contracting this disease, were now Masters of the world, free from the constraints of their ancient curse, and ready to build the world anew with their kind as they were never able to do before. | What’s going on during the day you say?.... fuck, I cannot even begin to describe it. How would I describe the warmth of the sun, the many different complexities of the clouds that change daily. The colors of the world and the many different forms of life.
Underground for years and years the population of UCN (underground city name) have slowly become colorblind due to never seeing anything other than their dimly lit metal and stone city. Life underground was no life at all they were slaves to the system and stuck in an underground world. Rumors of a few surface walkers emerged and spread like wild fire. Many were tempted to see if they were able to walk the surface. However everyone that tried ends up in debilitated on the surface in the sunlight and a special rescue squad needs to come rescue them and they end up in the infirmary usually 2-3 weeks of sunlight induced paralysis.
How can I let anyone know that when Aqasn (a quick and stupid name) and I went to the surface so he could test if he could walk on the surface and when he got in the sunlight he fell like everyone else. My body just moved on it’s own. I didn’t want to go to the surface. I didn’t want to go to the hospital but I wanted to save my friend. And I ran out there and grabbed him and dragged his stiff body back into the shade while the alarms were going off.
Now the rescue squad is here asking me questions about what happened. Thankfully I dragged his body back into the sun and said I stayed in the shade.
I was given a stern talking to about peer pressure and not letting an adult know that Aqasn was trying to go to the surface so they could stop him. Little do they know that I now go to the surface everyday since I found out. | 2022-06-11T19:02:38 | 2022-06-11T14:11:49 | 93 | 43 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | It only took a few seconds of staring until the number pops up in the middle of their forehead. Thank goodness for that, since I think I'd go insane seeing numbers everywhere!
Babies and most kids measure from zero to three at most, while grown adults measure up to maybe five or six, depending on their skills in hunting. I once saw a dedicated force of police officers exit a train carriage and they varied from six to seven.
By the time I was 18, I rarely used my talent. I saw no point of identifying people through their threat levels. A professional boxer has a threat level of eight, but it doesn't make him a bad person, you know?
I was always relieved that I had never seen a nine in my life. I lived in a small town where everybody knew everybody, and the highest I saw there was a seven. I didn't even know what a nine would be, much less a ten.
[Elizabeth pauses]
He was walking around the terminal with this raggedy old briefcase. The handle snapped as he walked past me, and all the contents fell out everywhere. I jumped up to help him, and he tried to wave me off. I told him it was nonsense and helped him pick his stuff up, which consisted of a bunch of letters, notebooks, and I think a framed picture of his family. He looked stressed. so before he could leave I asked him if he would like a seat next to me, and he took the offer.
He was a handsome fellow, a little lanky, with matted brown hair and a nose that stuck out in an odd manner. He told me he had just been recruited to the military. He had a kind face, not one suited for the job he volunteered for. I asked him where he was from and what he plans on doing in the military, and suddenly I was intoxicated. He had this charming way of speaking, like he knew what to say exactly the way it should be said.
We talked for what seemed like a long time, although I knew it must have been only about five minutes. The train leaving from the city had called for its last passengers, and he stood up, telling me that he had to go. I asked him if I could write him, and he hurriedly snatched a piece of paper from his pocket, jotted down his address, folded it, and handed it to me. I barely had the paper in my hand when he started jogging away.
I called out to him, telling him, "Hey! I never got your name!" and for kicks I decided to assess his threat level.
He looked back at me, and yelled, "Don't worry! I wrote it down!" just as a big bright ten materialized in the middle of his forehead. When he reached the train, he looked back at me again, and there it was: the unmistakable number ten.
I'm sure I was still as a statue as that handsome smiling boy waved goodbye. I remembered the piece of paper in my hand, and slowly opened it. His name was right there.
"Adolf." | We were in History and we were doing what we usually did, which is to say fucking around and joking and flirting all under the guise of diligent group study. I had my circle, my group of friends, with whom I shared almost everything apart from my ‘talent’. Tom sat to my right, his mouth sloped upwards in a lazy grin and his hand rested on his oversized midsection. A hazy green number two floated above his head, invisible to all the world but me. Across the table from me sat Cat, trying to twirl a bright purple pen in her fingers whilst talking about how she and her sister took the family tractor for a drunken joyride last weekend to celebrate the fact that she got her purple belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. The number four which hung above her deceptively innocent head was identical in colour to the pen in her hands. And Scarlett sat to my left, regularly touching my leg and shoulder and laughing hysterically at all my crude and forced innuendos and jokes. I could never see the number above her head, just a cloud of sorts with no definable colour or form. She was my mystery. But then The Kid came, and I found an even bigger one.
You see, I had been able to see the numbers since the day I was born, and I knew what they meant before I even had the cognitive capacity to put it into words. They meant danger. The higher the number the more dangerous the person, and vice versa. I had noticed that the higher numbers had their own texture, I could feel them as well as see them. I struggle to put this into words as it is intangible, this ability of mine is inherent and intuitive, but I will try. My ex-convict father, who I still have the displeasure of enduring for two hours every month, had a sagging and scratchy number Six suspended above his bald and empty head, whilst the Prime Minister has an angry and rough looking number Nine bubbling above his. The Kid, however, had a tranquil and soft number ten which felt like running water sat serenely over him. He walked into the class and introduced himself to the teacher, saying that he was sorry for being late but it was his first day and he couldn't find the department. Our lovely teacher then grunted at him to join our group and continued looking at whatever website he was on. We guessed it was either a job-seeking website or porn.
I should have been terrified. The man who perpetrated one of those mass shooting over in the states whom I saw on the news this morning was only a seven, and world leaders were only a nine. I had thought that I would never see a ten. But the way that number ten felt, not sharp and aggressive like the eights and nines, calmed me. In fact, The Kid’s presence seemed to calm everyone.
“Hey, you guys mind if I work with you? I don’t know many people yet” he asked with complete comfort and a warm smile.
“Sure thing” Cat answered immediately.
The Kid pulled up a chair and sat between me and Scarlett and asked what we were working on.
“Well, we’re supposed to be creating a timeline of the reign of Elizabeth I” I told him.
Throughout the lesson he was the focal point of the group, delegating jobs and specific years to research and collating the information himself. Everytime he spoke people listened. Well, everyone apart from me. I was just trying to understand why he was a ten, what made him so dangerous? When I looked around the group everyone was taken by him. Scarlett was now leaning into him instead of me, whilst Cat was listening to his stories as opposed to telling them herself for a change. And that was when I realised. That was when I understood why it was that he was the ten. They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but the tongue blows them both out of the fucking water. It went on like this for a further twenty minutes or so. I tried interjecting with a joke but nobody laughed, not even Scarlett, and Cat just told me to shut up and let him finish his story.
| 2014-11-29T17:05:40 | 2014-11-29T15:22:15 | 39 | 11 |
[WP] Foreshadow the character's death so subtly that I still don't see it coming even though I requested it. | I'm going to die today.
The doctor is giving me a run down of what will happen when we pull the plug. It will be painless, he says. Despite his reassurance, I can't help but be afraid. I glance over to my wife, my one true happiness in life, and begin to tear up. I can't handle the fact that I will never see her again. I pull her in for one last embrace.
I look back at the doctor and tell him I'm ready.
He gives me a slight nod, and slowly shuts off my wife's life support.
-
Edit : Thank you all for the kind words, when I wrote this obviously I could not have anticipated that it would be so well accepted. I'm glad that a good bunch of you enjoyed this story, as much as I enjoyed writing it. | Rain trickled down the windowpane, making rivulets in the already wet surface. Kieran watched them, a tinny pounding in his ears the last remnant of the concert he'd just got in from. The streetlights were lit and the house was dark as he had unlocked the front door. The hallway was just as messy as it had been as he left, and the smell of rotting food from the kitchen was overpowering. His mother would be in bed. She was always in bed.
He moved to the bathroom, brushing his teeth monotonously, looking in the mirror but not really seeing. He was too pale. There were dark smudges underneath his eyes from the late nights he'd had. The house would have to be cleaned tomorrow. Maybe his mother would get out of bed. He washed his hands once, twice. Both times he lathered the soap, scrubbed his fingernails, rubbing up to his elbows. A bottle of pills lay beside the faucet. Kieran tightened the lid and put them back into the cabinet. Opened bottles of cleaning fluid stood beside an crinkle of foil wrapper and dental floss.
In his bedroom, the neon light of the streetlamps outside flooded across the carpet. His room was neat, in contrast to the rest of the house. A crow landed on one on the opposite side of the road, flapped its wings and hunkered down under the heavy rain. A smudge on the glass distracted Kieran temporarily. He rubbed at it with one finger, only to find that it wouldn't come off.
He frowned, returning to the bathroom and opening the cabinet. There was a dark smudge there, too. *Why was nothing ever clean in this house?*
Kieran returned to his bedroom, cloth and cleaning fluid in hand. He unscrewed the child-proof lid, raised the bottle, and began to drink.
| 2015-06-03T08:22:01 | 2015-06-03T05:56:40 | 2,420 | 35 |
[WP] You're pretty sure that you are immortal, but you don't really know.
EDIT:
Front page, wow! First this, then the world muahaha! | **Voice Memo 10/14/2015 - 7:06 AM**
**Transcribing audio... Please wait.**
"Fuck it. I've survived 11 car crashes, 2 gun shots, a fire and Wild Wild West. Not the actual Wild West, I'm talking about that God Awful Will Smith movie. At this point I'm convinced I'm immortal. But there's really only one way to know for sure. Joe's on his way over now, I figured id start this recording early and give my thoughts on whats going to happen. I'm currently about to clean my dads old gun, and test out if I really am Immortal. I'm like 99% sure I am. I mean, 11 car crashes? C'mon. Either I'm the walking definition of both bad and good luck, or I'm fucking Immortal. Well find out after I get this shit cle- POP.
.
.
.
.
.
Erik? Erik you here? What was so urge- Oh what the fuck?! Dude I knew you werent immortal! I bet you didnt even leave the twenty bucks.
**END OF AUDIO**
| Everytime something dangerous happend, nothing happened to me.
Even when i thought i will die for sure, like an horrible car accident, nothing ever happend to me. Strange stuff did happen in my life quite often. First i thought i was just a lucky guy in unlucky situations. But it happened so often, i started to believe in a theroy namend quantum immortality. It states that you as a person can't die and everytime you should, something happens that will allow you to continue your life in a parallel universe and my other self is dying in my last one.
I thought this would explain a lot and i was happy with that thought.
This continued all my life. The last time was just yesterday when a tree smashed into our home and just barely missed me and my wife because my son started to cry when the storm hit us.
Next day i was at the bank with my son to get all my money in hope it will work out for the damage on my house. Next thing i know is that there was a loud bang and a lot of dust. I started too realise what is happening after i saw two guys with a weapon shooting at people. I took my son and ran too the nearest WC. There where a lot of screams and the last thing before i closed the door where some bodys lying on the flow and people running around in panic.
I hide at the WC with my son and a few other people that are in different cabines.
When i heard the door open. One step , two steps, a gun shoots. Someone is screaming. Another shot and the screaming is gone. My son crys in my arms while i try to make him silent. More steps,more shots. It won't take long until they reach our cabin. I kiss my son on the forehead and put him in the corner.
I always thought i am immortal, and now its finaly a good moment where i test this myself...
Edit: My first story here. So don't be to harsh pls :D Also i am german so excuse me for spelling mistakes.
Edit2: Wow. Thank you guys. It got much more attention then i hoped for :)
Glad some of you liked it. | 2015-10-14T07:19:44 | 2015-10-14T07:11:21 | 155 | 67 |
[WP] You accidentally call the FBI in place for a pizza shop and attempt to order your favourite pizza with toppings. Coincidentally, the FBI uses pizza language as a means of code. | "Hi," Rick said. "I'd like to order a large pizza."
"Large, you say?" The guy on the other end of the line seemed a little taken aback, which was rather strange for a pizza place.
"Yeah," Rick continued, a little confused himself. "Could I get it mushrooms, sausage, olives and pinapple on that?"
"Of course," said the voice bruskly. "Will that be pick-up or delivery?"
"Delivery." The guy on the other end gasped loudly and slammed down the phone. "That's odd," thought Rick. "He didn't tell me how much it would cost or when I could expect it. He didn't even say 'thank you' or 'good bye.' I need to have a talk with Gino about how his employees treat customers." Rick turned on the tv and settled down to wait for his pizza.
***
Agent Smith walked briskly down the hall trying to not panic. A *large* pizza! this was going to be a big one and, apparently it involved nuclear weapons, genetic engineering, the Israelis and . . . whatever the hell pineapples are. There was no way that pineapples were anything good. Worse still, it was a delivery. It was coming right to American soil! He had to brief the president immediately. There was going to be a war unlike any the world had ever seen.
***
Five hours later, Rick still did not have his pizza and his favorite show had been interrupted by the president making a stupid speech about pineapples. Tonight was just not Rick's night.
ETA: This story is now officially one third of my comment karma. Thanks everyone! | "Hi, I'd like a large cheese pizza with bacon and barbecue sauce please"
A large cheese with bacon and barbeque? Those were the words I had hoped I would never hear. I swallowed the growing lump in my throat and hung up the phone. I went over to the door to the command center. I pressed my thumb against the fingerprint scanner.
"Scanning" the robotic voice said. It reminded me of GLaDOS, the robot from Portal 2, the game that had filled endless hours of my teenage years. Back then, I had no idea I would become one of the top agents in the FBI. Those were simpler ti-
"Scanning completed" The voice interrupted my racing thoughts "Welcome to the command center Agent Trevow" I dashed my way into the command center and ran over to Director Snow. "Director Snow, we have a situation, I need to see the President. Somebody just called in a large cheese with bacon and barbeque." Director Snow's face turned whiter than his name, and he quickly radioed for a presidential limousine to come and get me.
I stood at the curb, where the limo picked me up. I was rushed to the White House. I watched the landscape of D.C. rush by, knowing that it may be the last time I ever see it. I arrived at the White House and dashed inside. I came into the Oval Office and the President stood to greet me.
"What's the situation, Agent Trevow?" The President said in a tone that could inspire a nation to follow him in anything. "Mr. President Sir, someone just called the agent tip line calling in a large cheese with bacon and barbeque" The President turned whiter than the head of the eagle on the crest we were standing on. He grabbed a remote on his desk, his hand trembling, and turned on the TV. The latest episode of The Young And The Restless (The President loves his soaps) was cut out with breaking news.
Across the United States, in New York, Los Angeles, Seattle, Boston, Atlanta, Dallas, Washington...
A knock on the window interrupted us. We turned around with a feeling of dread growing inside of us, and what we saw confirmed our worst fears.
An 8-foot tall, robotic Vladimir Putin stood outside the Oval Office window, and then gunfire erupted. I tackled the president and we crawled out of the Oval Office, got to our feet, and sprinted to the bunker, just as the robot burst through the wall of the Oval Office.
Russia had unleashed it's greatest weapon, right when we least expected it.
The Putinators had been unleashed. | 2015-11-30T16:21:26 | 2015-11-30T16:13:24 | 1,233 | 83 |
[WP] Choose an idiom (e.g. "stone-cold killer"). Write the story that caused the phrase to be used literally and therefore introduced it into the language.
Idioms can be from non-English languages also if they work well | "Mae o'n Bwrw Hen Wragedd a Ffyn."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Welsh idiom. 'bwrw hen wragedd a ffyn'. Means 'raining old ladies and sticks'."
"So... Basically raining cats and dogs?"
"Pretty much, but based on a real event."
"You wot."
"Yeah. You ever heard about the Fall of Magic?"
"... What are you on about."
"Basically, when magic ended, all the witch networks collapsed. Thousands of old ladies, falling from the skies, their broomsticks and walking sticks, suddenly not holding them aloft. It's why there's no dragons any more. Magic just... left. Everything magic buggered off, and the things that could live without magic remained."
"... What."
"Dach chi feddwl dwi'n siarad celwydd?"
"English. SPEAK IT."
"Sorry... You sayin' I'm lying?"
"... go home, you're drunk, Mr Jones."
---
*if you enjoyed ^or ^hated this story, check out /r/Scherazade where my personal favourites to egotistically read my own writing can be found. Unless I forget to put it there, in which case poop.* | “I’m going to need a Memory potion today, good sir.” I leaned against the moldy wooden counter, then thought the better of it when it threatened to give way beneath me. The smell of old, rotting wood, amongst other unpleasant odors, invaded my nose.
“Oh, I do believe I have a few of those left.” The old man stood slowly from his stool, straightened his threadbare robes, and shuffled over to the shelves behind him. He lingered over a few different glass containers, and finally selected a tall one containing a glowing red liquid.
“Do I have to pay extra because it glows?” I smiled. The necromancer did not.
“Hmm. I probably should. If you never use it, it would make an excellent night light.” He snickered, still barely cracking a smile. “But no, it’ll just cost you an arm and a leg.”
I laughed and retrieved my coin purse from inside of my leather overcoat. “Ha, never heard that one before. Seriously though, how much?”
The old man frowned. “I have a project I’m working on. I happen to need an arm and a leg.” He leaned over his own counter towards me, his own frail body not putting much tension on the failing wood. “Of course, it doesn’t have to be your arm and leg. The two could belong to someone else.”
“Is this in jest? I can give you plenty of gold, and then you can pay some other poor sod to give up some body parts, or ‘find’ some for you.” I rolled my eyes. “Simple business practices.”
“But, I need an arm and a leg, not gold.” A look of confusion passed over the old man’s wrinkled face as he pondered his options.
“Look, I need this potion, but I’m not killing anyone for you.” I slapped my entire coin purse down on the counter. “There’s enough to buy three slaves in the Narrows. Do the arithmetic.”
I took the potion and headed for the door before the old man could protest much further. “And for the gods’ sake, light some vanilla candles in here, and maybe spend some money on that rotting counter. It’s people like you that give small businesses a bad name!”
[/r/cwall81](http://www.reddit.com/r/cwall81) | 2015-12-10T06:40:54 | 2015-12-10T05:15:54 | 88 | 11 |
[WP] The best demon slayers are those whose minds the demons want to stay out of. | In the gloom of evening, Asher's cart creaked and moaned like the risen dead. Asher cracked his whip at the horses, urging them to run faster, hoping that at least the beat of their hooves would drown out the demon's words.
"Father," a muffled voice spoke from inside the cart, "Father, I think it's gone now."
Asher's lips tightened, and he cracked the whip again. They wheeled around a corner, half of the cart's wheels lifting off the ground.
"Father, please! Please stop the cart, and let me out."
"You are *not* my son!" he shouted over his shoulder. The dark cityscape ran past in a muddy swirl of violets and indigos, interrupted only by the occasional orange glow of a street lamp.
Asher heard a snuffling sound from within the cart, followed by deep, guttural laughter. He thought he heard claws scraping at the wood.
At last, the humble stone columns of the House of the Lord loomed in the darkness. The House drooped on it's haunches, like an old man who had spent far too many years lying in bed.
"Father, please," the voice from the cart squeaked, "Let's go home, father. I feel much better, now."
Asher climbed down from the cart, and ran up the House's steps. He hammered his fist against the door, not relenting until it opened.
A young man, with a stocking cap still stuck tightly around his head, peeped out.
"Yes?"
"Father Jacob. I need an exorcism."
The young man, Father Jacob, blinked at him.
"An... exorcism?"
"My boy - a demon - my BOY!" Asher gestured frantically to the cart.
Jacob knitted his brow together, and together they turned their heads to survey the cart.
The horses whinnied, their breath turning to hot vapor in the air. They clopped their hooves idly on the cobbles. The cart creaked.
"What am I supposed to be seeing?"
"My boy - he's inside. Satan is in his soul, I tell you!"
"Asher, in order for us to perform an exorcism, there needs to be some sign that the Devil has made himself manifest."
An explosion ripped the cart to pieces, sending chunks of flaming wood and seared horseflesh flying. Tongues of flames leaped high into the air, and deep, rumbling laughter went up with them.
Asher wiped horseblood and ash from his face, "Was that a sign?"
"You go get Father Emmanuel. I'll go get the holy handcuffs."
***
Several hours later, Asher and Father Jacob stood outside the door of the only windowless room in the House of the Lord. They were both covered in claw marks, and burns, and Asher held a blood-soaked towel up to his left ear.
"Forgive me, Father Jacob, but I did not think that Emmanuel would be up to the task. He's not a preacher known for his ... vigor, if you take my meaning."
Inside, though it was only Father Emmanuel and Asher's boy, they could hear the blood-curdling screams, low, rumbling vulgarities, and a single, pleasant voice droning like so, "And so, he taketh the sheep, and he taketh the goats, but he dareth not taketh the rams, for their fur is coarse, and their horns are pointy."
"How do you mean?" asked Father Jacob.
"Well, he's a bit... detailed oriented."
Father Jacob shrugged, "He's the best exorcist we've ever seen."
The whole house shook, and rattled. Another hissing, demonic scream pierced through the door, "NOOO!! PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP! I'M SO BORED!!!"
"Do you think he's alright in there?" Asher asked.
"And on the *next day*, when the Lord taketh to himself all the sheeps and the goats and the other animals that liveth in the field, he taketh them to the *next* field."
"Oh," Father Jacob nodded, "I think he's rather enjoying himself." | It would be time soon. It wouldn't have been fair to say that Kayla disliked the sensation. It was an odd blend of unpleasant and stilling, like the anxious calm that gnaws at your insides the moment before a great fall. If given the choice, she would have avoided it altogether and looked for a new life.
*Perhaps retail?*, Kayla thought to herself. Kayla laughed at herself. Even that was a dream, for what other choice did she have than the life she lived and had lived for the past 100 years? She had no other marketable skills, what with death being her only trade.
Kayla took the pause her opponent offered to take stock of her wounds; a large gash ran down her right thigh that she had sealed with a tree-sap and honey compress, several lacerations across her back and abdomen she let air as they were no more than a few millimeters deep, contusions on her chest and upper arms, and little bumps and cuts all over her body. The damage was less than what she was used to, especially given that her opponent was a Shadow Dancer. With consistent meditation and rest she would be back up to par within a couple days, assuming the Order allowed her the rest.
Yes. It would be time soon. She had sustained injury enough that a Shadow Dancer demon would feel sufficiently confident to take his prize - her mind and soul upon which demons feasted.
"I smell your fear, hunter," the voice taunted from beyond the darkness. Saccharine around the consonants, oiled on its vowels, it dripped from the curled lips of its owner with such satisfaction. Kayla smiled, more an artifact of her past self than an actual emotion.
"Sure," Kayla shouted back. She did not say this out of malice. Kayla had no use for such emotions. In this life, emotions were a liability. Any shard of happiness or satisfaction, and you provided ammunition for your opponent to rip from you. A flicker of darkness, a glimmer of hatred, and you empower your opponent. Better yet to be tabula rasa. Better still to be like a calmed, deep lake, perfectly mirrored save the odd ripple.
It was the odd ripple that Kayla had spent the first decade of her life training. The Order had beaten her emotions out of her through the rigors of discipline and suffering. Kayla felt neither pity nor hatred. She did not experience joy or excitement. She could not be slighted, was incapable of loving. In place of her humanity she wore a mask, one with just enough depth to fool a demon. In her experience she found fear and lust to be the most effective, though her choice of bait changed depending on her opponent. Greed hardly worked, though she never understood why not. Sloth had its uses, especially against Slave Drivers.
"Delicious. I have never tasted fear so succulent in my years. Sweet at the edges, savory at the center. To taste the fear of a Hunter, such is a delicacy I imagine few of my brethren have experienced," its voice came closer now, echoing out of the darkness as it approached from seemingly all directions. And then it was in front of her. She heard its breathing. She could smell its foul breath, tainted by the vices of its past victims. Her eyes peered into the beady pits of its eyes as she fought to keep her mask intact long enough for the Shadow Dancer to take a bite.
"Spare me," Kayla let loose a practiced stammer. The Shadow Dancer's clammy fingers reached out, closing around the edges of her face as it leaned in...
It convulsed, it's body recoiling. *The trap is sprung,* Kayla thought. Her hands snapped to the Shadow Dancer's angular head. The claws of her gauntlets dug in to hold tight her opponent. And then she opened her mind wide.
"What is this!" the Shadow Dancer cried as it sunk to the floor, writhing in agony.
"This is you," Kayla whispered, "all the souls you have feasted upon. Their every vice that has made you fat."
The Shadow Dancer began to spasm, it's body shaking uncontrollably as the darkest pits of its heart reflected back upon him, infinitely growing. Glowing embers began to appear across its body like boils. They spread, filling the air with the rancid smell of seared flesh turning rotten. The Shadow Dancer screamed, its voice twisted into a shrill cry of unyielding agony. Kayla drew her opponent in deeper, pulling him down into the void that was her mind.
It did not take long before the Shadow Dancer could be harmed no more. It had pulled itself away, curled up in fear as it clung to the wall for a false sense of security. Kayla advanced on it slowly, her sword hissing against its scabbard like nails on shale stone.
"Spare me," the Shadow Dancer begged, its voice now robbed of its malice and replaced with fear.
"Sure," Kayla answered before driving her blade into its heart. | 2016-02-08T09:33:07 | 2016-02-08T09:32:19 | 52 | 19 |
[WP] Your ex has suffered an accident and has amnesia, only remembering up to the point where they still deeply loved you. You're torn on wether to get back together with them and fix anything you did wrong, or crush them with the fact that you're not together anymore. | This did actually happen to me. Kinda. I dated a woman for a few years who was in recovery when we met. Heroin. We dated for a long enough that I was tight with her mom and family. When she relapsed I stuck with her for a long time , probably too long. Codependency and all of that. Eventually though, I couldn't do it anymore and we broke up. About a year later I got a call from her mom. She had overdosed and was in the hospital and someone needed to go pick her up and bring her home. Mom was out of town, and my ex had burned so many bridges that nobody really wanted to get involved anymore . She offered me money to go pick her up and babysit her until she could arrive home to take care of her. I reluctantly agreed, not so much out of any feelings for her but just because I really loved her mom and she was in a tight spot.
She was pretty out of it , she had amnesia about pretty much everything that had occurred for the last 3 or 4 years. I was told that this would wear off eventually but not that night at all. It was horrible. She was so happy to see me , she kept asking about when did I get my new car that I had picked her up in. The worst part was that she wasn't really holding on to anything I was telling her for more than a few minutes , so I had to tell her about 5 or 6 different times that we had broken up over a year ago. Each time she cried and cried , begged me just to be with her, to hold her, to cuddle her in bed. She kept forgetting that we had broken up.
There was no part of me that was really tempted to try to get back together with her. She was a mess when I left and obviously she hadn't gotten any better, but she was so scared and disoriented I couldn't help but feel awful every time I had to tell her no. After she had fallen asleep I sat in the living room of her mom's house and sobbed for hours.
Sorry there isn't any kind of a clever ending to the story , but like I said it really happened. Fuck heroin. | Chii's heart climbed it's way up her throat with each beat, a lump forming as she tried so very hard to keep her composure. This wasn't... She... What was she trying to think? Everything felt too fuzzy and surreal. For a moment, Chii wondered if this was a sick dream invited by fever or stress.
The blinding lights of the hospital made her head throb, the stench of antiseptic and illness only worsening the feeling. In the room she stood staring at was her ex, burned and begging to see her. Chii, in a sick way, wanted to hear this man suffer. She wanted to relinquish in his pain and misery while he asked for mercy.
Perhaps this was a terrible thing. Maybe forgiveness was a better way to go about visiting the amnesiac man. Chii shoved that idea off the metaphorical table. This man had caused her physical and emotional pain that haunted her three years after their split. She had no reason to forgive him, even if he had no clue what he had done wrong.
Taking a deep breath, Chii scrubbed herself up, and entered the room that held the cause of her current state of being.
Immediately, her ex noticed her. A smile of relief washed over his pained face, as if Chii had somehow miraculously cured him of his injuries.
"Chii! Baby, oh thank god. I was so worried you wouldn't come."
The young woman stared at the person in front of her as if he were a stranger. He didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care.
"What took you so long?"
Ian inquired, concern washing over his somewhat charred face. Chii clenched her fists. She wanted to be civil, but the memories wouldn't allow it. They had turned her into a bitter, jaded woman.
"I stood outside to watch you suffer. It brought me immense joy hearing you be the one who screamed in pain for once, begging these people to relieve you of your misfortune. What you remember of me was four years ago. In that time to now, you have broken me. You fucked me over, you made me hate myself, and you drove me away from my family. I hope you die here."
Chii seethed, her face flaring more and more red by the minute. Ian looked like his heart had been ripped apart, and devoured.
"Why would you joke so horribly at a time like this?!"
Ian cried, his voice dripping with anguish.
Chii smiled a bit sadistically.
"If I told you that, you'd have closure. I'm not letting you get that, for you never gave it to me. I truly do hope these people send you through unbearable agony. Perhaps then, you'll learn what it truly means to suffer at the hands of someone you thought you could trust; however, I doubt it. You always were intolerably stupid."
With that, the petite woman exited the room, and sauntered over to a nurse's station.
"If the patient Ian Summers in the burn ward wants to call me, or even speaks my name, tell him to get fucked."
Chii offered no explanation as she exited the hospital, her pounding heart leading her away.
*'Forgiveness is for those who deserve it.'* | 2016-04-19T22:41:51 | 2016-04-19T22:19:15 | 63 | 12 |
[WP] You're a man who's tired of his life, so one day, while driving home from work, instead of stopping at your house, you just decided to keep driving. | Hands on the wheel
and eyes on the road -
Dad taught me safety
all those years ago
He said, "Get a good job
and get a nice wife
and look out for strangers
and don't ruin your life."
He said, "Play it safe, son,
you need security,
so just keep your head down
and don't end up like me."
So I got a nice job
with a nine-to-five grind
And I got a nice wife
who I didn't mind
Right up 'till one day
when I drove home
with my hands on the wheel
and eyes on the road -
and I saw my turnoff
and something just snapped
so I kept on rolling
with the sun on my back.
I don't know what'll happen
but I'm feeling no fear
'cause dad, there are worse things
than danger out there. | Another day, another buck. Another long commute to the 'burbs where my wife is likely waiting with another TV dinner. Oh, sure, these are "healthy choices" TV dinners. Because I like my cardboard to be good for my colon.
I don't know where it went wrong, I had so much promise. Back in High School, team captain and dreaming of sports scholarships. Made it to freaking Yale! Forgot about the sports and invested in a beer belly, but got good grades and a couple "promising internships".
They loved me there. I could already smell the leather CEO chair I would be sitting in just a few years from now. Maybe a decade. Tops.
Women? It was so easy to get dates, but I focused on myself and my career. I didn't even notice when getting dates started to get hard. Next time I looked, I was balding, chubby and stuck in a mid-level managerial position.
Oh, those promising internships? Everyone loves you when you are free labor. Then time comes to pay up and the funds aren't there, or the company didn't grow as much as they thought. Maybe they find some detail in your performance report to nitpick about. Oh, but the references I got were solid! You'd wonder how they ever let me go with such glowing references, but they did. When Sears came calling, I figured it was best to be in a sinking ship than drowning in debt. So far so good, I guess.
Yeah, I found a girl. We made each other marginally happier than being alone, so we tied the knot. Tried for brats but no luck yet.
Now I hit my turnoff and realize I'm in the wrong lane. I think I'm going to miss it. I *want* to miss it. Why not? What's waiting for me down that road? The same thing as ever. So I speed up instead. 60. 75. 100. I see the bridge up ahead and gun it.
That's where I'll find peace. | 2016-06-11T18:14:35 | 2016-06-11T17:02:48 | 1,199 | 295 |
[WP] The technician takes off your Virtual Reality helmet. The entire life you've experienced has been a virtual reality simulation of your ancestor. The technician looks at you and asks, "did you find out what you were looking for?" | "Did you find what you were looking for?"
I look at the tech. His name is Bob. I remember, in a vague sort of way (like you'd remember the name of the chick you went home with the night before after too much whiskey), I thought his name was outdated and silly before the VR helmet... I was so wrong. Bob. It's a good, solid name. Also, it's spelled the same both forwards and backwards. And it's kind of fun to say. Try it now. Bob.
Coming out of an intense virtual reality experience is... Well, it's all a lot like waking up after too much whiskey. For a moment, you aren't sure where you are, how you got there, or what your name is... Maybe you'd feel anxious if you didn't have a raging headache or feel like your mouth is stuffed with cotton balls. Then you see a glass of water, sigh with relief, and it all starts coming back to you, however hazy.
What was I looking for again? Ah... Yes. That's it. "Yes, Bob. I did. I learned to write cursive... Which means I can now read the ancient texts and save the planet."
Bob smiles. His shoulders relax visibly. "Glad to hear it. I was worried for a moment."
"Love your name, by the way." | "Sir, it's time, you're going to have to say goodbye now." Ralph hated that nurse, she was so young, ful of life, and way too impatiant on pulling the plug on his wife. It's always the night nurses who are the most detatched from basic human emotions
"Please, just five more minutes, don't do it yet." He could barely recognize his own voice from how flat and defeated it sounded in his ears.
The nurse let out a sigh, fished a pack of smokes out of her pocket, and walked out of the room. The dim light above the bed made his wife look like a withered experiment, tethered to this mortal coil with a series of tubes, wires, sticky pads, and a machine that was breathing for her. He just wanted a few more minutes, five more wonderful minutes of praying and hoping against all hop that his wife would wake up.
Five minutes.
Ten Minutes.
Fifteen.
The nurse came back, it was time, Ralph kissed his wife on the forehead and walked out, he couldn't see her body die even though her brain had long ago. Down the hallway, a left turn, another hallway, a nurse's station, a small waiting room, a lot of empty seats. Ralph sat down and let a few tears fall.
A different nurse came by with a single box, in it was his wife's wedding ring, cellphone, pocket change, lipstick, bottle of perfume, and a small scrap of paper. Ralph unfolded the paper, on it in neatly typed letters were the words *"did you find what you were looking for?"*
Ralph woke up in his own hospital bed, a technician repeated the line from the paper. He thought of his wife's face, eyes sunken in, skin loose, brain-dead for the better part of the summer.
"You have been sentenced to death by lethal injection Mr. Johnston, you are a monster, you poisoned your wife causing her to spend her last few weeks in a vegetative state needlessly suffering before she was removed from life support. If there is a hell, I hope you learn exactly what an enternity of torture is. Whether or not you feel remorse after the simulation will have zero bearing on your sentence. May God have mercy on your soul Mr. Johnston, the state most certainly will not." | 2016-10-29T03:01:03 | 2016-10-29T02:36:19 | 25 | 18 |
[WP]: Your oldest brother is a military genius. Your little sister has cured three types of cancer. The twins are working on a new method of locating planets fit for terraforming. And you... You are mom's favourite. | ...and now my younger sister, who is incredibly talented in everything she does, is marrying the most popular guy in our school. I don't know where that leaves me.
I've got five brothers and a little sister. The eldest works across the globe studying dangerous animals. The next in line has an amazing security management job at the most important bank in the UK, and is married to a supermodel. True, he's got a tough chronical illness, but with the existing meds it's not really a problem.
The one in the middle works at the ministry, and although he doesn't visit much I can tell his career is blooming. Then you have the twins. When they dropped out of school I thought "YES, no more over-achieving siblings", but the joke's on me. They created their own business from scratch and are extremely successful. The fuckers.
And me? Well... I'm marrying Hermione, so I got that going for me, which is nice. | "Mamma?"
"Yes baby?"
"I love you."
"Oh I love you too. You're Mamma's precious little angel."
"I miss you, Mamma."
"I know, baby. Mamma loves you so much. You are so special to me."
"Am I Mamma's favorite?"
"Of course you are, baby. You are my favorite little angel."
"Me, Mamma? Not Captain brother?"
"No, baby. Not your brother. He's off leading the fight against the Russians."
"Not science sister?"
"Of course not, my love. She hasn't left her CDC lab in ages."
"And the doubles, Mamma? Not even the doubles?"
"Not even the twins, baby. They left nearly a lifetime ago. We'll all be gone by the time they come back.."
"So just me, Mamma? I am favorite?"
"Yes, my little angel. You are Mamma's one and only favorite.."
"Mamma?"
"Yes, my angel?"
"Since I am favorite, I can go outside?"
"Oh no, my sweet precious prince. Mamma loves you so much, so, so much. And you are Mamma's favorite. That's why you have to stay down here. That's why you can never leave your special cave. It's because Mamma loves you so much baby."
"Will I see the sun one day Mamma?"
"We'll see, baby.. we'll see. Now lets get back in our cage. Remember I told you tonight is scary night. The hallow monsters will be out all night tonight and I don't want them to get you!"
"No Mamma! Not the monsters!"
"I know baby. That's why you have to stay down here in your secret cage. This way the monsters will never find you."
"I love you, Mamma. I will see you again soon?"
"Of course sweet angel. I'll be back down next halloween, baby. Mamma loves you so, so much. You are Mamma's favorite. You'll never leave your Mamma, right?"
"Yes, Mamma."
"Such a good boy.. Mamma's precious angel.." | 2016-10-31T23:20:35 | 2016-10-31T15:53:22 | 75 | 28 |
[WP] You are a supervillain, but every single one of your plans of world domination has somehow collapsed into a harmless flirtatious encounter with the superhero by accident. Today, the superhero has come to propose to you. | T minus 9 minutes.
This time I would succeed.
I stood on the massive bridge in the middle of the night, looking out to the bright lights of the city in front of me, the cold night wind gently blowing past me. It was chilled just slightly, and it sent goosebumps across my skin, almost as if it were caressing me gently…
I sighed.
“Lisa, come out please.”
There was a pause, and then out of nowhere a woman just appeared next to me. I didn’t even flinch, I was used to it by now. She had long flowing hair that I could only describe as platinum in color. She wore just simple jeans and tank top with a light jacket. Lisa was not much for theatrics the other heroes were, the only thing that identified as her someone special was the masquerade mask she wore, covering the top half of her face. She even went with just, Lisa.
She looked at me and smiled slightly. “You could always sense when I was around,” she said, and in bridge’s lights I could see her blue eyes sparkle.
I sighed, but I couldn’t help but flash her a ghost of a smile. “Never soon enough, clearly,” I said and shook my head. “I’m assuming the EMP won’t be detonating over the city in” I took out my watch to check, but she answered before I could do so.
“Seven minutes, twenty eight seconds? It is,” she said.
I looked at her sharply. “What do you mean, it is?” I asked.
She shrugged. “It is. I haven’t done anything to stop it this time.”
I gaped at her. My whole plan had relied upon her not knowing about the EMP. I had planted fake evidence, distractions, decoys, though I didn’t know why I bothered, she always figured it out. “But why?” I asked, “you just snap your fingers,” I did so, “and the wind itself will push it off course, tear it to pieces even.” Once Lisa, the most powerful wind-controller, hell, the most powerful person period, found out your plan there ever there was nothing you could do.
“I wanted it to be a present,” she said, again with that smile.
“A...present?” I said.
“Mmhm,” she nodded and leaned against the railing of the bridge, “I mean you’ve done so much for me, the fireworks display over Dubai, the wonderful dinner in Mumbai, the aurora borealis in Chicago… I mean, what more can a girl ask for?”
T minus 5 minutes.
The thing in Dubai was supposed to be a missile attack, had they not been intercepted, and the Aurora Borealis had happened because a deadly radiation beam had been reflected at the last moment. The dinner, well, alright so I didn’t have an excuse for that one. But regardless I stammered, “That’s...not, I didn’t-”
She laughed.
“I know you didn’t mean any of those, but hey, it’s the thought that counts,” she shrugged, “so I figured I owed you something, you know?”
The wind blew again and I caught a whiff of her perfume, something exotic, though I couldn’t say quite what. “So, you’re just gonna let it happen?”
“Mmhm,” she said, and turned back to look at the city.
“Then why come here?” I asked.
Again she turned back and smiled. “Why to see you of course, and get some practice in with your henchmen maybe,” she said innocently.
I grinned and shook my head. “I haven’t hired henchmen in years, Lisa, you know that, they’re completely useless against you, and so just a waste of resources,” I said.
T minus 2 minutes.
Finally the smile disappeared from her face, and her shoulders sagged a bit. “Look,” she said, “I-I like you, I think. But this-we, we ca-AAAgh.” She yelled in frustration and turned away. “I’m no good at these things, she muttered, not looking at me.
T minus 1 minute.
I bit my lip. I could see the missile now, that would knock out power in the City for months, throwing the economy into chaos, and then I looked at Lisa, her platinum hair moving gently, almost hypnotically in the wind.
What the hell.
I pulled out my phone, and called out “Disarm.” Even as I watched the missile fizzled out, now just a harmless piece of metal. Hopefully it would land on a car or something so this whole thing won’t be a complete waste.
Lisa turned to look at me, eyes wide.
And there standing on the bridge with the lightly blowing wind and the distant but bright lights of the city, the greatest villain the world had known kissed the greatest heroine of our times.
***
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) for more of my work
| There was a knock at my door. I sat in silence for a moment, hoping it would go away. It didn't. There was something strange about the knock, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Like... like five-hundred fists were hitting the door at once, but it was just as loud as one.
Obviously I wasn't expecting anyone. Villains always work alone. I suppose it's why we always lose, too. Not that that's been an issue with me. I've never gotten far enough along to lose.
I swiveled around in my chair, set my cat on the ground, and set the death laser to stun. Then I realized it was already set to stun. Then I realized I had to wipe the dust off of the little knob that would've set it to stun. I didn't have to dust it off to set it to stun, but you can't have a villain breaking down the door with a dusty death ray. Well, stun ray.
I really would've had it set to kill, I swear. But I had to know how they got there, ya know? Stun them, tie them up, ask how they got there, turn the knob one hundred and eighty degrees, pull the trigger. That simple.
I looked at the security monitor for my porch. It wasn't working. Completely black.
I sighed, hit the trap door button, waited five seconds, and opened the front door. My welcome mat had fallen aside, but my electric eels weren't getting anything to eat. Actually, I read on the Internet, something like a week after I got them, that they have no hope of killing an adult human. Oh well, they're kinda cute.
Nope, the woman who can see photons flying was standing there. Right behind the hole.
"Hey, Moth," she said. She stretched her hand toward me. In it was my porch camera. I craned my neck to look around, and saw its charred, sizzling mount on the wall.
"You-"
"You were gonna use this on me?"
I turned around, and in her other hand was the stun gun. I sighed.
"May, you gotta-"
"Gotta what?" My stun gun was hanging precariously over the trap door. Right above my pit of electric eels.
"No!" I cried.
"Wait, why? Do you know it's your only chance against the Living Light Particle?"
Me. "No, no, no! I have a pit of electric eels down there!"
"You... know those can't kill a human, right?"
"Uh... yeah...?"
"See, you're a sweet guy! Anyway, why can't I drop it?"
"They, uh... Might think it's a mouse? And zap it? And get stunned?"
"Awww! You care about them! You don't starve them to make them mean or anything, right?"
"No, I gave them a monkey just this morning."
"Oh."
"Anyway, uh... would you like to come in? I mean, you may have already been in, for all I know. Faster than light and all that."
"Oh, you know I wouldn't."
"So... you didn't tell any of your friends, right?"
"There's nothing to tell... **yet.**"
"Is there going to be? I mean, if you're gonna burn down my lab, by all means. Just carry Tinkles out, will you? And the eels. And maybe the monkeys."
She paused. "Tinkles?!"
"My cat."
"Omigod, you're a cat person?!"
"Yeah..."
"That's so what I expected. I'd love cats, if they could run with me, ya know?"
"I don't think anything can run with you. Believe me, I tried genetically engineering some cheetahs once."
"For me? Aww."
She was gone in a blast of wind, I heard a soft clunk, and she came back, emptyhanded.
I sighed. "Yeah... for you? I mean, they were going to tear your throat out if they got to you."
"Well, I got to you. And I have something to tear out."
"Why are you here, anyway? And how did you find me?"
"Just a little detective-work."
"That's not your style."
"Do you know what is my style, Moth?"
I gulped. She grinned. She brought something out of her pocket... a little box. I backed up silently.
"No... please, no."
"Yes!"
Faster than a flash, the box was open. A beautiful ring, the color of moth wings and stars and darkness... it was jasper, I think.
"A... ring." I managed to sputter out.
"Of course, cutie. We went on that date once, remember? I mean, you had a bomb under the table, but you've always known I'm a policeman, right? I get stuff like that every other week."
"O-of course. This is just so-"
"Ah, come on. That was our only *real* date, sure. But what about all the times we got to talkin'? It was a weird feeling, at first, ya know? Knowing I'd rather date you than, say, Dumbbell..."
"That's... flattering, I..."
"You really are who I think you are, right? No sadistic tests going on right now? No cities under bomb threat?"
"O-of course not, May. I... Thank you for the ring."
"You're welcome, handsome. Now... about a second date. I really wanted to rush into it, but-"
"That's you everyday."
"You know it, Moth. I'll be taking this until you decide. No pressure, alright? Just... no evildoing. Not even a bank robbery."
"Not even a bank robbery."
"Great! Place, time?"
"That froyo place, downtown?"
"The one you didn't drop a cryo-bomb in?"
"Of course! They were the best in town, couldn't go ruining my own Saturdays!"
"I'll be there, Moth. On the dot."
"Of course."
And she was gone. I sat down in my chair, and brought the welcome mat back up.
May... she was beautiful under that mask, I bet. | 2017-05-30T14:28:44 | 2017-05-30T14:24:58 | 108 | 61 |
[WP] One day, at the library, you find a book written by an author with the same name as you. As you start to read it, you come to realize it's an exact telling of your life. As you continue to read, you reach the story of finding this very book, though you're not even close to half way through it.
This is my first prompt, so I hope someone out there enjoys it. :) | ".... As I was reading the book, I started to realize it was about me." It said. 'Holy shit' I thought, I've reached the 'now'. "I've reached the now" I read on the page just after I thought it. "And then I read this sentence." 'Well, that's weird and paradoxical' I thought. "And then this sentence." "And then this one." "And this one." "And this one.".... | Before I try to tackle this, I want to say I really love this prompt. Anyway, doing this on mobile since I'm traveling, but I didn't wanna miss it.
I turned another page. I glanced at the top.
*"He turned the page and glanced at the top"*
"Strange" I thought to myself
As my eyes traveled down the page my very thoughts were being read aloud to me on paper. Every fucking thought was on this. My inner monologue and psyche available for rent with a fifty cent late fee.
*thud*
I dropped the book and fell to the ground sobbing, knowing if I continue to read, the book will only be that, the story of me finding my soul.
*rtrtrtrt*
The book rattles on the floor, seemingly possessed. But something drew me in. Although I had a vigorous animosity towards this hardcover, perhaps it was Stockholm pulling me in. I open the book. I read this entire part and get to right here. And it follows.
THERE ARE NO SECRET WAYS TO FORESEE THE FUTURE. ONLY OTHERS CAN SEE YOUR PATH OF DESTRUCTION, FOR YOU ARE CHAINED FROM THE INSIDE AND UNABLE TO PREDICT YOUR TRAVELS. YOU MAY CLOSE THIS BOOK AND LIVE YOUR FREEWILL, OR YOU MAY TURN ANOTHER PAGE AND DIE IN THE PARODOXAL ABYSS.
I knew what I had to do. There was only one way to truly ensure that my life would be lived out truly and fairly. I grab the open book, and I turn another page. | 2017-09-23T13:37:18 | 2017-09-23T12:16:21 | 64 | 27 |
[WP] Five people wake up in a metal room with no windows and only one door. In the middle of the room is a revolver and a piece of paper. "One of you has to die. Kill this person, the door unlocks and the survivors win $1million. Each wrong person dead halves your prize. You have four bullets." | "***HOLD IT*** hold it hold it." I hold out my arms, trying to make a calming gesture. Three of the strangers - two on my left and one on my right - I barely notice, my attention completely on the man who has grabbed the gun. "Look, just... think about this, okay? Do you really want murder on your conscience?"
The big man smiles. "A million dollars buys a whole lotta conscience," he says.
"And each wrong person dead halves that prize," says the lady on my left. "You can't shoot anyone unless - unless you're *sure*."
I shake my head. "No, no, no, no shooting anyone even if you *are* sure. Look - there's no need to accept the rules as given. We have a gun, and a locked door. Why don't we just shoot out the lock?"
The big man frowns. "Then we don't get the million dollars," he points out.
"Are you sure that there *is* a million dollars?" I ask. "I bet that when we get out there, you'll find there isn't."
The big man frowns at me, and at the other three of us. Then he turns away, and shoots out the lock. | The other three saw the paper and the revolver first, the big guy called it out, but they all hesitated. Just for a moment. That was all it took, and by the time I finished reading the last line everyone was a mouth breather.
"There's three of us and one of him"
Now's the time to point it at them. I'm not big, but now I might as well be a tank.
"no no no no no don't shoot, kill muscle man over there, he's the only one you have to worry about overpowering you"
The room was hot, the sweating made everyone look even more desperate. She's right though, if anyone it has to be him first.
"OH MY GOD, FUCK, IT'S ON ME, HE'S ON ME"
The mute finally talks, and the one who wanted it can't even look. The door still isn't unlocking. It feels like it's getting hotter now.
"You're going to have to kill this *fucking weird guy*, he's got to be hiding something, that's why we're still here"
She's almost crying, still not looking up. The mute is throwing up in the corner, sounds like he's trying to defend himself inbetween heaves, but this isn't quite working for either of us.
"No please, just give it some more fucking time, that's all it needs. *There's no reason to kill me.* C'mon FUCKING PLEASE DON'T DO THIS"
It's getting hotter, and she's looking up now. Not for long.
"LET ME OUT ASSHOLES, I PLAYED YOUR GAME, THEY'RE ALL DEAD, LET ME THE FUCK OUT"
over
"LET ME THE FUCK OUT"
and over
"LET ME THE FUCK OUT"
and over again
"LET ME THE FUCK OUT"
It just keeps getting hotter. I can't even lay on the floor anymore because my skin sticks to it, I had to pull their bodies over to lay on top. I can't scream anymore, each breath feels like fire down my throat. All I can do is focus on the sound of blood bubbling and burning on the metal floor beneath the bed I made. It's getting fainter.
| 2017-10-31T05:03:39 | 2017-10-30T19:00:49 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] All superpowers have a ‘hangover’ effect. For example, after using super strength for the day, the morning after you can’t even lift your spoon to eat your breakfast. You wake up one morning after using your own specific superpower and you feel pretty hungover...
[deleted] | The wheelchair kept creaking.
It was an awful noise. He knew it would never break but the groaning metal scared him all the same.
As he worked to lift his fingers enough to move the chair, he remembered the first time.
Everyone knew that heroes had to pay the price for their powers the next day. The Regenerator had to wake up in a hospital so that his body wouldn't tear itself to shreds. Electroman had it easy, he was just totally paralyzed for several waking hours. Fireman had a more-than-dangerously-high fever.
He was too hasty his first time. He didn't make the proper preparations.
The next morning, he was on the floor in pain, unable to move an inch off the ground. Later he would learn he broke several bones. The doctor warned him that he needed to be in a better position to withstand it.
The next time it was just as bad, but he thought he was prepared. The wheelchair was crushed under his weight. The next one would be made of Protonium Steel. The government couldn't have another superhero giving up.
But he would never give up. People had been worried, but they didn't know how much he enjoyed it. The rush, the excitement.
How it felt to push the world away and fly. | You know how when you fall asleep on your arm and you wake up and feel that tingly feeling? Yeah? Well imagine that through your entire body. That's not what it is, of course, it's actually just at the base of my skull. But 'The Buzz' as I've come to know it as creeps into my brain stem on the really bad recoil days.
When I was younger it was great. I could use my powers day and night, and in the morning I'd only feel a slight tingle. But now, if I lift for even ten minutes I'm guaranteed a ruined morning from the recoil.
What can I do? Like how much do I lift?
Oh, you want to know my superpower? Oh yeah, I totally spaced it, sorry I'm still recoiling a bit and it's all a bit fuzzy. I can use telekinesis.
I mean, of course we've all tried the home remedies, right? Tea, coffee, exercise, massage, sex. Sorry, was that tmi? Ok, ok. But you know what I mean, you read articles like "Top Ten Ways to Avoid Recoil", you try them, and realize you just have to ride the storm.
Not use my powers? I mean, I try not to go overboard, and right now it's really only when I push myself that I get bad recoil, but no, I'm not gonna stop.
Why? It's who I am, it's what I do. No one is coming up to you saying "Oh, you're tired typing up this report, why don't you quit being a reporter" you-you gotta take the good with the bad, and what? I'm supposed to give up being ranked third in the *world*, as a hero, just so I don't feel a bit of discomfort? I'm sorry, but I can't imagine *not* using my gifts.
*Mymyr*? The street drug? Yeah, it might numb the pain, but it doesn't get rid of recoil, and even then, it only numbs physical types, like speed or strength. People like Phantasm, or uh uh, what's his face? Dragoon, or me even, our recoil is too specific for something like mymyr.
Well, anyway, I have to get back to work, thanks for having me | 2018-08-19T05:26:44 | 2018-08-19T04:42:57 | 86 | 30 |
[WP] All superpowers have a ‘hangover’ effect. For example, after using super strength for the day, the morning after you can’t even lift your spoon to eat your breakfast. You wake up one morning after using your own specific superpower and you feel pretty hungover...
[deleted] | He lay there drooling, with mouths open wide. He stood up to... to... ah hell he doesn't even know. Walking straight forward he first hits a night stand, then door frame until finally tripping over a hallway carpet and faceplanting without a sign of resistance. As he lay there, nose bleeding he thinks to himself... nothing, nothing at all. His overfull bladder finally gives up and the carpet gets soaked.
Having superintelligence as a superpower truly is a bitch. | It's been 5 years since the first quackman appeared, a being with superpowers that have a 'hangover' effect. The man was bulletproof one day and the next a paper cut during the press interview caused him to faint due to excessive blood loss.
Now there are beings with all kinds of powers coming up, all quackmen with a day of heroics and the next day of being ultra weak, it's a chess board out there, no one uses their powers unnecessary lest they not be able to stop the next terrorist attack by the Grand Baddies, an organisation of quackmen who aren't on the side of righteousness and good.
Me, well I am your average government employee without any powers and am right now dealing with the mess last night's battle between the Grand Baddies and government employed quackmen or the Quackers.
After my long day at work I go to a nearby bar and drink and suddenly I blackout.
The next morning the sun hits my eyes and I awaken feeling light-headed and then I throw up. What the hell is going on. I turn on the news and it rocks my world.
Turns out last night my powers awakened and the powers were the ability to control all minds, I went berserk brainwashing all the Grand Baddies into working for the government, but that's not all I made the entire populace make me their ruler and in celebration controlled myself to drink all the wine I could. The news channels are praising me as a God and this mansion is pretty swell and I can do pretty much what I want forever with my 'believers'.
So let the fun begin!
| 2018-08-19T07:31:17 | 2018-08-19T04:31:42 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] You’re on a passenger on a plane and look out the window. You see Malaysian Airlines Flight 370 flying right there, next to your own flight. Other passengers spot the 2016 missing Indian Air Force Plane as well. You soon realize you’re flying among all the missing planes in history. | There was a time when flying felt like freedom. The first machines, those of the early pioneers, rattled along with little more than bolts and braces - a constant racket of creaking canvas and shaking metal. That gave way to the hot puffs and gargles of engines. Later, the soaring crescendo of jet engines as they reached their maximum, hurling huge hulks into the sky.
But for a time, before it all became ready meals, no leg room and those hinkey screens, flight was beautiful. Serene, almost. I remember the first time I took my kite into the sky and let its engine cut. Nothing but the whistle of air and the cool breeze on your face. Then, up in a heaven of golden sunlight and blue skies, you'd start her up again and drift elegantly over a carpet of endless white. Hot damn, it was something special. Cold as all Henry - something that made you huddle up in your jacket - but even so, the kind of feeling all pilots yearn for. You flew like a bird, up there alone.
We were cruising like that just after dawn, trying to hold her up even though we were flying on vapors. Howland was nowhere to be seen, and all we had below was pure, endless blue ocean. Funny thing, flying over the Pacific - the dawn snaps like turning on a light switch, so one moment it's pitch dark, the next you're dazzled by total light. Fred tried to get a fix but we couldn't find the darn strip, so instead just cruised up and down, North and South, looking for smoke signals on the horizon. I don't think we ever thought we wouldn't make it. I don't think we ever felt alone.
And then Fred looks out the window, and says "Would you look at that." So I follow his finger, and there it is - a stream of planes up in the sky. All flying in formation, all flying the same direction. We hadn't seen anything like half of 'em. They were crates that shouldn't have made 200 feet, biplanes, fighters, sleek looking metal birds and giant behemoths like something Mr Howard Hughes was always babbling about trying to get up. One of the kites even looked like Nungesser and Coli.
"Well, not like we have much choice," says Fred, and I agree. So I point us up, and we slip into the formation. And then the strangest thing. The engine just stopped out of juice, but we kept on up there. We weren't gliding - the rotor kept turning - but the engine noise faded away. Gradually, I took my hand off the controls and just let her ease into line with the rest of 'em, and along we flew - in clear sky and easy weather. We started to recognise them all. Came to know them all. Came to know where we were flying toward. It was freedom.
And everything felt beautiful. | "Test- Testing, is this thing on?"
The voice cuts into the plane like a knife. It is not the voice of our jovial captain, who'd been making friendly remarks all flight. The man speaking to us is a stranger.
Confused murmurs begin, and soon the sense of unease spreads like wildfire on oil. People start turning their heads left and right, as if to confirm that it isn't just happening to them. That they haven't gone insane.
I'm no different. There's a sinking feeling in my gut, though I can't quite tell why.
"Well, for starters, explaining isn't gonna cut it right now, so would you all mind taking a look out of your windows?"
The voice is oddly nonchalant, but people do what it says regardless. Collective gasps fill the cabin, and one woman shrieks.
We see planes. Many planes. We're hanging in the sky as if suspended by some unknown force, and we're surrounded on all sides by a myriad of planes.
I recognise the one to our left. It is the plane flown by the Indian Air Force. The aircraft had been plastered on media for quite sometime, disappearing without a trace. They'd eventually had no choice but to shrug it off. Such was the hopelessness of their situation.
Below it is the Malaysian Airlines 370, having disappeared a good four years back. Another enigma, lost in history.
I spot more planes. Older planes, like the America, and the Hawaii Clipper. Newer, futuristic models too, sleek planes whose designs I've never come across. I've spent countless hours studying planes, so it stands to reason that I would know their names by heart. I marvel at the sight of these lost planes, while simultaneously feeling a looming sense of dread.
"To put it simply, you've all been extracted from your respective timelines. I'll give you a minute to let that set in."
The voice simply relays that piece of information as if it were stating the weather.
The cabin erupts with several roars of outrage. Vulgar words curse at the unknown voice, businessmen and parents alike unable to tolerate such a scenario. People begin to threaten. To cry. To pray.
I'm not quite certain what I should be doing, if I'm being fairly honest. Perhaps I'm in shock. That much seems real. As real as the hundreds of planes flying alongside us, hanging like marionettes.
"Settle down, settle down-" The voice booms, as if attempting to make itself heard. Somehow it is.
"In a few hours or so, you'll be arriving in a new world. I will accept no questions at this stage, for the amount of exposition I will have to deliver is astounding, and you'd be surprised how heavy my workload is."
The voice continues amidst the chaos. A baby cries somewhere. A woman continues to pray very loudly.
"But we can't really bring in everyone, see. If I had to give a rough estimate, well, one, two- give me a moment- around half of you should be able make it across. By that, we mean planes, of course. Half of all the planes here, plucked from all of time."
I swallow. I want it all to stop, but it doesn't seem like it will.
"What does that mean, you ask? In summary, the greatest Midair Battle Royale of all time is about to begin. Best of luck, and may the best plane win."
The voice cuts off into static, and I'm left uncertain, hungry, and wishing I'd waited a couple days before booking a flight to see my mother.
There's no possible way any of this could be real.
But if it is, and this really is just a game where our survival hangs in the balance-
I take a look outside once more, staring at the countless planes before me hopelessly.
I need to go home. I need to win. | 2018-08-23T01:20:39 | 2018-08-23T01:18:43 | 140 | 28 |
[WP] You live in a world where every time you have a birthday, you get to level up a skill like in video games (intelligence, strength, charm etc.) most people spread their points evenly on each skill. But you put all 30 of your points into that one skill nobody cares about
You get to choose what that skill is. | In a world like mine, everyone could easily become what they wanted. Wanna be a smart professor making ground-breaking discoveries? Just max out intelligence. Wanna be a bodybuilder? Easy, just level up strength. Or do you just want to become the popular kid? Charisma. It had become too easy to achieve your dreams.
Ironically though, this made it much harder to achieve them. You simply had too much competition from others with the same stats. Being special was not special anymore. I realized this long ago.
So i went the only route i could to become special. Eating bricks. Drinking Clorox Bleach. Stepping on Legos. Yep, you guessed it, i leveled literally the shittiest stat. I currently have 30 resistance and counting.
My shows were world famous. Who doesn't wanna watch some dude slurp down dangerous poison right after eating a dog shit? People loved it. My parents weren't exactly proud, but then again they had probably forgotten about me. Both alcoholics. I couldn't even get drunk because of my resistance. I once downed 3 bottles of tequila at a show and just got tipsy.
People try so hard to be special. They're not. I am. I can bathe in acid motherfuckers. When i'm 80 i can probably survive a flamethrower, or listen to Limp Bizkit without having a stroke. Hell yeah. | Growing up now isn't too different than it was for our grandparents. Some kids are a little better at math, and some a little better at sports. The game changer is we know why. Everybody gets skill points on their birthday - it's always been the case, but now someone not only discovered that, they unlocked the secret to controlling them.
On our first birthday after hitting puberty, we can redistribute all of our points, and every birthday after that we get one more to add as we see fit. Most kids take a few out of their lower skills and add them their higher ones. Some go the other way, and decide they don't like what they're "naturally" good at. I was a late bloomer, and I think that's the reason I took an unheard of approach to my skill distribution.
While all my peers were excelling at their chosen paths, I worked my ass off just to try to keep up. The science kids didn't care about getting picked last in phys ed anymore than the music kids cared about failing history, but I didn't have that luxury. I spent nearly my entire highschool career doing what nobody else had to, and when it finally came time to fix my points I knew exactly what I wanted to do: I put every single point I had into learning.
It wasn't long until I caught up to everyone around me. I couldn't quite seen to surpass their now inherent talent though. I never regretted my decision, being world class in everything is better than being #1 in any one thing.
Many years after school I found myself struggling to learn a quantum mechanics theory. I was kicking myself for not putting any points into science. I knew sometime in my 20s that its where I wanted to focus my life's work, and I suspected adding some points would accelerate my learning for that field faster than my general learning skill. And that's when I heard a beep coming from my desk. I opened my drawer just in time to see the screen of my point controller fade out. It had only ever activated on my birthday, and that was 4 months away...
---
I don't know if I want to tell anyone that I learned how to control my skill points at any time, that I can redistribute them as needed in the moment. Part of me thinks it's selfish to keep it a secret, that I simply want to be better than everybody, that I should allow every person to reach their true potential. But I'm truly afraid of a world where everybody is capable of doing anything.
| 2018-09-12T10:57:43 | 2018-09-12T10:49:40 | 39 | 25 |
[WP] You live in a world where every time you have a birthday, you get to level up a skill like in video games (intelligence, strength, charm etc.) most people spread their points evenly on each skill. But you put all 30 of your points into that one skill nobody cares about
You get to choose what that skill is. | In a world like mine, everyone could easily become what they wanted. Wanna be a smart professor making ground-breaking discoveries? Just max out intelligence. Wanna be a bodybuilder? Easy, just level up strength. Or do you just want to become the popular kid? Charisma. It had become too easy to achieve your dreams.
Ironically though, this made it much harder to achieve them. You simply had too much competition from others with the same stats. Being special was not special anymore. I realized this long ago.
So i went the only route i could to become special. Eating bricks. Drinking Clorox Bleach. Stepping on Legos. Yep, you guessed it, i leveled literally the shittiest stat. I currently have 30 resistance and counting.
My shows were world famous. Who doesn't wanna watch some dude slurp down dangerous poison right after eating a dog shit? People loved it. My parents weren't exactly proud, but then again they had probably forgotten about me. Both alcoholics. I couldn't even get drunk because of my resistance. I once downed 3 bottles of tequila at a show and just got tipsy.
People try so hard to be special. They're not. I am. I can bathe in acid motherfuckers. When i'm 80 i can probably survive a flamethrower, or listen to Limp Bizkit without having a stroke. Hell yeah. | "Spare Change?"
Of course, it's futile... Should have noticed the crotchspawn. Which means that mom will...
"Oh hell no! You sick, sick man! Come along kids, get away from the stranger..."
I really should pay attention to who I'm asking for money, but of course I never leveled up perception or similar skills. Or luck.
"Spare Change, sir?"
Ok, this guy at least sees my sign... a chuckle and a "here, keep it..." as he tosses random coins into my worn hat, not even fit to wear. "No, no, no, you don't need to prove it, I'm ok" as he walks away, still chuckling.
Maybe I'll even get to eat today. Won't be as much as that one time I caught the attention of that weirdo photographer from the gossip rag. Even got to be on page 5, for a whopping fifty bucks. Not that all of that went to "food"... More like "medicine".
Maybe I should go back to that doctor, see about getting that "surgery". He said, just a small change and I'd actually make this mistake a profitable one...
"Spare change, ladies?"
More giggles. Not unexpected, I guess; they looked barely in college so I'm probably at least more of a curiosity than a freak, or -- for those of you who think Min/Maxing is always a good idea -- a lesson in what can go wrong if you choose poorly. But it's always the last few points that get you in trouble, so I guess that's my lot in life. Ohh, a few more coins! "Thank you ladies! Do you wanna... No? Ok, it's cool."
Heh, it would be nice to solve this problem with a quick doctor's visit. A little anesthesia, a few hours under.... then yeah, finding that one guy who promised to help me find work that would match my "talent"... except at this level, my "talent" is unresponsive. Good for a few laughs, but nothing more and surely not "star" quality.
Oh, crap, cops... Gotta bring out my "spare change" sign and hide this one. Crap crap crap, did that mother report me?
Maybe I oughta just go with the regular "will work for food" sign.... This "will show level 30 ***** for food" sign is just too risky. | 2018-09-12T10:57:43 | 2018-09-12T10:24:40 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] When people die, they get to watch a 1 hour movie, presenting the next 100 years, to see what they are going to miss. They die without being able to tell anyone about it. You just watched that movie, and wake up to your SO shouting "Are you OK?" | I was very happy I already entered the Gates of Heaven. It's a better place. Green fields, no pollution, water's pure, skies sheer blue. A paradise, indeed.
An hour later, God, a speaking mist almost formed in the human body, called us newbies to assemble. He waved his hand and a wide screen appeared in front of us.
And then he announced, ''This is the world in 100 years without you existing anymore. But...''
Time rolled and, while everyone was crying of the idea that they'd miss new bookstores and better lives, my mouth's agape.
I was frozen, watching myself in the movie reading in the hammock.
''One of you will be immortal,'' God continued.
And I woke up to the sound of a cardiac rhythm. | "Are you okay?!" she shouted. I felt a hand on my shoulder, but, no, I didn't prefer to get up yet. Face down on the floor, nose broken, banana peel behind me, I considered the future.
One hundred years of pain and misery. First came the nuclear war. Started by the whim of a single rogue nuclear engineer, who took an entire shopping mall hostage with a homemade bomb. He wanted a beanie baby, and didn't believe the cashier when the local Hallmark didn't have them in stock. The resulting explosion sent every nation on earth into an all out war. Second came the robot apocalypse, scouring the surface of any remenant of human life. The death bots, when asked, would say that it was a coincidence that they all resembled Arnold Schwarzenegger. It was not. Third came the mutant koalas snacking on the ashes of our ruined civilization like a bunch of tasty eucalyptus leaves. Even my future vision was vague on how that one happened. No human would survive, there was no possible escape. Just koalas, and suffering. What could I do to challenge fate? Me, the idiot that had nearly died slipping on a banana peel.
More information could always help, and it's not like I'm losing anything in the long run, worst case scenario. Maybe if I could avoid death once, I could do it again?
"No." I said, the word muffled by the cold concrete floor. And the broken nose. "I'm not okay." How do I put this gently? "In fact, I'd feel much better about myself if you put me back. Maybe kick my face around a little, while you're at it."
(Hesitantly titled: "If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stomping on a human face, forever.") | 2018-10-09T05:32:55 | 2018-10-09T04:40:23 | 61 | 23 |
[WP] Your pointless superpower is that you know how many people’s lives you save with your actions. One day, at a Subway, you tell the cashier you want your sandwich on Italian bread, and you’re suddenly informed that you just saved five billion people. | When the man hands Joey his sandwich, his stomach growls, and the voice in his head whispers *five billion.* The voice appeared one year ago, and every time he hears it, it makes him chuckle. *That's how many people you're saving,* it said when he first heard it. *You don't know why, but you're important.* He always thought that was silly, but now he *knows* it.
After all, he just ordered a turkey club on Italian bread. How could *that* save anyone’s life?
But, when he walks outside, he’s greeted by a giant TV with a crying man on it. This startles him, causing him to drop his sandwich and stumble backward. “*What the hell?*”
“*Joey!*” the man shouts. “*Oh, Joey, you’ve saved us!*”
At this, he cocks a brow. Walking forward, he knocks on the screen, surprised to see the TV’s real. “I must be dreaming,” he mumbles.
“*Almost!*” the man says. “*You’ve…uh…been stuck in a simulation for the past year.*”
“*WHAT?!*”
“*Well, I know it’s crazy. Uh…*” The man looks off screen. “*How do I tell him?*” Someone leans forward, whispering into his ear, and he nods before looking back at Joey. “*Okay. Yeah. I’m just gonna be blunt—we were invaded by aliens who love gambling, and we bet them that within a year, we’d know enough about you to predict one of your days with one-hundred percent accuracy.*”
“But…my day isn’t over…”
“Actually, it’s about to be.” The man makes a pained face, twirling his fingers. “You’re uh…about to have a heart-attack.”
“*I am?*” Suddenly, Joey stumbles back, clutching his heart. “Oh…Christ…”
“*Yeaaah. Maybe eating fast food everyday is a bad idea. But, look on the bright side—it’s a simulation, and you’re a hero who saved us from utter annihilation and enslavement!*”
As Joey falls to the ground, the man stands up, quickly wiping his tears before clapping.
“*We're all cheering you, Joey!*" the man shouts. "*Don't worry, you'll be home soon. They're already setting up a parade in your honor!*"
***
This is really silly and rough, but I hope you like it. Just a funny idea that popped into my head. Thanks for the prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | “Sorry, sir, we’re out of Italian bread, what else can I get you?” Makayla said.
The faces – oh god, the faces. Jayden held back his scream, hunching over; all eyes in the store turned towards him. Every face he would save flashed across his vision in an instant; a near infinite amount for him, so much joy—and so much pain.
The faces of those he would kill flashed in front of him now. One million? Ten million? A billion? He lost count among the contorted, bloodied, twisted faces of the damned. Makayla looked at the man in front of him—an ordinary businessman, dressed in a grey suit, with brown belt and shoes, bent over on the counter. Behind him, the line of workers hungering for a sandwich twisted through the store—out into the street. Makayla was *so done* with this.
“Sir, we have wheat bread, white bread, or flatbread.” She said
Jayden held onto the counter, arms shaking, tears in his eyes. “Please, help—”
“Hey asshole, you going to order or not?”
“Hey—buddy. Give the guy a second” Rodger said. He was the third man in line.
“Look, you twat,” the first man said, spinning around. “I don’t have time for this—He can have a meltdown on his own time, I have meetings to go to—important ones.”
The second man, a heavy built construction worker, had zero patience for this businessman’s attitude. *As if his cozy office job and meetings made him special.* Rodger pushed the lawyer forward, knocking him back into Jayden.
The store burst into action. The man rose and threw an untrained punch at Rodger, who took it in stride. Rodger hoped this man was a lawyer as he returned the punch in kind, knocking the man to the ground. The store burst into action.
Makayla pressed the panic button and drew a can of pepper spray from her pocket. It wasn’t permitted in the store; she didn’t give a rat’s ass about that rule. Jayden bent down and covered his face. He was surprised to see a single face flash in front of him—his own. Suddenly gunfire burst into the room, the bullet burying itself into the counter inches above where Jayden had been a moment before.
The riot broke out—construction workers fought businessmen, businessmen fought each other, punches and chairs were thrown. Bullets flew; people died. In the corner of the store, sitting at a table, enjoying a teriyaki chicken sandwich, a young, teenage boy watched as his mother was shot three times in the waist.
He screamed, crawling through the violent crowd towards his mother. Blood poled around her; her eyes were glazed and motionless. The boy cried—sorrow and rage. This world was unfair, and he would set it right. With a rage, he screamed, his voice lost among the chaos.
In the dark mob of a New York Sandwich shop—a hero was born. He would save the world, not through good deeds, but by cleansing it of the weak, the violent, and the angry. For a better world. For the greater good. Red light ran through his eyes, and he felt his new power flare through him.
Jayden, seeing a younger, crying boy, crawled towards him. He grabbed the boy by the shoulder, covering his head; together they ran out of the broken windows towards the street, away from the violence, and towards safety.
Jayden saw more saved faces appear in his mind—his family.
***
Well this turned real dark, real quick... anyway, more at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | 2018-11-17T14:17:28 | 2018-11-17T14:08:20 | 774 | 104 |
[WP] Your pointless superpower is that you know how many people’s lives you save with your actions. One day, at a Subway, you tell the cashier you want your sandwich on Italian bread, and you’re suddenly informed that you just saved five billion people. | It was a bright sunny day in Miami, and for once, not too humid. Kimmy walked into the corner Subway, smiling to herself, thinking about how nice it was to be able to reach restaurants by foot. She was in a great mood. Kimmy approached the counter and gave her order to Sal, the regular clerk.
“I’ll have the ham and Swiss... on Italian”
Kimmy felt a warmth, mixed with tingles of chilly ice spread through her body. She had somehow just saved 5 billion people. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did.
Sal looked at Kimmy and said, “Ah, switching it up today huh? You usually get the flatbread.”
“Yeah, I know Sal, but I’m in such a great mood, the sun is shining, things are going really well. I just felt inspired to change it up. You know how I’m usually so rigid with routine.”
“Hmm...” murmured Sal. “Inspired, by the sun shining huh? Switching it up?”
“Yeah Sal! It’s a great day.”
Sal finished making Kimmy’s sandwich and bid her a good day.
———————————
15 years later
Kimmy woke up to a beautiful sunny day in Miami, and for once, it wasn’t all that humid. She walked a few blocks to her favorite coffee shop and scrolled through the news while she waited in line.
Kimmy scanned the headlines and dropped her jaw as she read, “Engineer and physicist Sally Benjamin releases open source code for 3D printing solar panels. Credits inspiration to a customer at Subway job who changed her order because of the sun”
Kimmy still remembered the 5 billion. That was by far the largest number she had ever sensed. Kimmy continued reading and discovered Sal had been working her way through undergrad at the subway, and had been reading about solar panel design. Apparently Kimmy switching up her order due to the sun had sparked an idea in Sally. This grew into a reality and now affordable solar panels we’re going to be available everywhere and could be assembled on site. This opened up the possibility of generating more reliable energy all over the world.
Kimmy looked out the window, smiled, and was glad her contribution to save 5 billion people had been a bright outlook on life, and a deviation from her regular routine. She approached the counter and ordered her coffee.
“Hey Jean, you know, I think I’ll switch it up today and have a fancy coffee. Can you do some kind of milk steam art?”
Jean laughed, “Oh Kimmy, you crack me up. Sure, I can make you some “milk steam art” Why no plain black today?”
“Just inspired by something that happened a long time ago that now involves 3D printers and the sun.” Kimmy breathed as the warm tingly sensation, and ice cold tingles ran through her body. She had just saved 84 people.
“Inspired to get milk steam art because if something that happened long ago and has to do with the sun and 3D printers huh? You’re something else Kimmy.” Jean said, but there was a strange look in her eye, as though something had just clicked. | "I'll take the itallian bmt," you say, wanting to try something new. "Okay sir here you go, anything else", "Nope thats it". "Okay, your total is $6.25" "Hey asshole, you saved 5 billion, want a medal?" a voice in your head says sarcastically. You have been hearing the voice in your head as of late, ever since you got drunk with your friends, and went to a waste disposal plant, where they gave you 50 bucks to taste the goop. The voice wasn't demonic as you may think, but it had a Brooklyn accent, and was very sarcastic. you could communicate with it by thinking. "5 billion, how the hell did i pull that off?" you ask, "Hey asshole, my job is to relay the numbers, I don't know how you did it, I just know that you did it". "Fine be a dick," you respond. You bite into your sandwich, and immediately spit it out, "Oh shit, who the hell can eat this without wanting to die." you throw the sandwich out and walk away. at this time a short angry man walks by (he looks like if you mixed George and Newman from seinfeld, and then hit that person in the face with a baseball bat.) "tommorow, im using those launch codes, and im blowing up the fucking earth," he thinks. "I'm fucking starving, why did i spend all my money on drugs, and the launch codes?" "Holy shit is that an Itallian bmt?" he says audibly. he runs to the trash can, and pulls the bmt out. he starts eating it, and moaning for some reason, you turn around "What the FUCK?" you scream, as he starts eating it. he eats it so quickly that he begins choking. "help," he manages to wheeze out. you now notice, that no one else is on this street, you hear nothing at first, then a voice breaks the silence, "assbag, fuck his shit up, I don't know for sure, but i have a feeling that that is what the five billion was." Without even second guessing your self, you stomp that fuckers head about a dozen times, and look down, all thats left of what formerly was a he, was a fractured skull, and scatered pieces of flesh. You see something sticking out of his pocket, you pull it out it says, "CIA Operative 935, level 10 security clearance" you hear a gunshot behind you, and everything goes black. You hear the voice once again, but this time, for the final time. "asshole, i was gone for a minut-- what the fuck?" somehow you respond i was shot, "wait a minute," he pulls you into the real world again, but you have no body now, you look at your dead body, and realise time is paused, you walk over to the man who shot you, and look in his pocket, he too was a cia operative. Time then resumes, and you stand there and look at the man who shot you, he stands near your now lifeless body, and looks at you, "poor son of a bitch," you hear him mumble, "it didnt have to be like this." He moves to the man you killed, and pulls out a cellphone, it is locked by a fingerprint, so he takes the corpse's hand and unlocks it, he sees footage of an MW2 private lobby, where him and another person used bullets too write messages to each other including the launch codes, he gaspes, and realises he was a double agent, he then looks at your body, picks it up, and tosses it in the trunk of your car, he later buries your corpse, in a ditch, on it he placed a stone. The voice returns one last time, "You may not know why you died, but you died, preventing 5 billion deaths, the man was planning on using the launch codes, to blow up the earth like in call of duty bo1 moon, but you killing him prevented that, farewell, friend" everything returns to darkness, until you finally cease to exist.
​
I understand that this was utter shit | 2018-11-17T18:37:15 | 2018-11-17T17:29:21 | 180 | 35 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | I stilled dreamed of seeing.
I think that's why I initially snoozed my alarm clock instead of gasping for joy. But as I rolled back over to look at my wife lying next to me, I did gasp. Not for joy, but out of shock. On the wall behind Kathrine a message had been hastily painted on the wall.
\-DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE-
"What's wrong?" Katherine said groggily but alarmed. Her vacant stare reminding me that for the last 2 years I have been blind.
I am unable to respond as the realization of what is happening has not fully dawned on me.
"Jim?!" she now sounds more awake and even more concerned. She flails out her arms searching for me and when her hand rest on my shoulder I have regained enough composure to speak.
"N-nothing." I stammer. "Just had a nightmare."
The tension in her face eases as her hand glides up to my face and leans in for a kiss.
"you had me worried." She sighs. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." I respond quietly, still trying to get my bearings.
I sit up and look around the room growing more confused and horrified as I do. On every available surface I can see the same message has been painted.
\-DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE-
The paint is obviously not new, as it has slightly faded from a bright red, to a more rusted maroon. I also see the guide rod we have been using to navigate the new home we were given a year after the great blinding took place. The room looked very different from how I dreamed of it. It seemed smaller and dust has settled on all the surfaces that were not regularly used. As I took in the first glimpses of the room I have spent the last year in, growing more uneasy as I read the same message over and over, I felt a hand on the small of my back. I gave a startled yelp and nearly jumped out of bed.
"Must have been a bad one." Kathrine giggled from behind me. "Sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"Maybe later." I mumbled.
I turned to face her and was overcome with emotion. In 2 years she hasn't changed much. Her chestnut hair was longer than I remembered it and was haphazardly strewn around her. Her soft smile showed a few more smiles lines around the corners of her mouth. The eyes were the biggest difference. They looked glossed over and unfocused, the rich brown covered with a grayish haze. I felt a pang of sadness and guilt wash over me as I stared at those eyes. The mixture of joy and grief became too much and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
As I stood up to leave, I finally noticed the dark amorphous shape in the corner and stopped with my breath caught in my throat. It wavered on the edges as if it were pulsing or breathing. It seemed to be pulling in the light around it further obscuring it from my sight. I reached out to steady myself on the guide rod and as I did, the shaped slithered into the bathroom.
"Hurry up," Kathrine complained, "I need to go too." | When I was younger, my mother told me that no matter what happens I needed to be strong. She told me that the world was a cruel place and my sister Kay needed protecting. It didn’t make sense to me at the time, this world was full of wonder and adventure. My thirst for adventure led me to the Army when I was eighteen.
One day my commander called me into his office. There was an accident back at home. My mother and sister were involved in a car accident, killing my mother and gravely wounding Kay. I was given some leave time to return home and grieve. The next few months were rough, rougher than anything the Army had put me through. My days were spent tending to my sister for the accident had left her blind. Little did I know that the real trials were yet to come.
A few years later my time in the armed forces were up. After leaving the Army, I was able to get an apartment for my sister and I. Despite losing her eyesight, Kay was able to live happily. For a while, I believe I was happy too. Then, one day I woke up in my dark room. I could hear the television in the other room. The news was on as I was slowly making my way out of bed.
“This is an emergency, please stay in your homes until we have further information”
This snapped me out of my auto-pilot. What had happened? I walked over to the other side of the room in the darkness. Feeling my way around I get to the light switch and turn on the lights. Nothing happens. Trying the light switch a few more times I start to feel like something is very wrong. I feel my way into the living room where the television is. That’s when it hit me, I was blind.
For two years there was nothing, just nothing at all. Everyone’s eyesight was gone. They ended up calling it the Great Blinding. Funny, how they give the worst things titles such as *great*. After the first few months everything started to seem like it was going to work out. Without eyesight, everyone started being a lot nicer to each other. There was no longer any prejudice based on skin or race because no one could tell the difference.
After two years of living in peace, everything changed once again. There was a terrible screech that woke me out of my sleep. I jolted up in my bed. Then again, I heard a scream. It was coming from my sisters room! Hastily, I made my way into my sister's room. There was someone in there with her I could hear her struggling. Jumping into the frey, I fumble myself on the back of this intruder. I was able to subdue the intruder and put him in a choke hold. My military combat training was paying off.
“Run away! I’ll hold him off Kay!” I yelled into the darkness.
There were footsteps moving heading out of the room. My sister would be safe. I could feel my choke hold working, this guy’s strength was fading. Just as I was sure this guy wouldn’t be getting back up anytime soon, a thud. Something hit me, and it hit me hard. Was my sister safe at least?
Some time later I woke up in my sister’s room. I could feel the sun on my face coming through the window. How long was I knocked out? I struggle getting up; my head hurts like hell. Wait a second, I start feeling around looking for my sister. She’s not here! Making my way to the window something feels different. The sun, I’m not just feeling it on my face, I can see it! I’m not really sure what is going on. Slowly, I opened my eyes.
My vision was back! What happened? Is this really happening? How am I able to see again? I turned around to once again go over the scene. Kay’s bed was bloody and the room a total mess. That’s when I noticed it. On the walls, on the ceiling, on the mirror. *DON’T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE.* In the mirror, my reflection looks back at me. What I saw was terrifying. My eyes, they weren’t normal anymore. They were all black, no irises or anything else just black pupil. What happened to me? | 2022-10-15T03:24:04 | 2019-08-26T10:19:31 | 52 | 22 |
[WP] After snorting something weird at a party, you suddenly gain the ability to smell personalities. | "Just one beer." That's what I'd said at the start of the night. I'd stop by, make a round, drink a beer and head out.
Given the way the room spun and my feet did not want to cooperate, I done screwed that one up. And far be it from me to keep even a mistake lonely. Thus the straw in my hand and the powdery line of \*something\* in front of me. This was really dumb.
I wasn't really sure how this worked. I hadn't done anything like it before. I hoped TV wouldn't steer me wrong and I wouldn't look stupid on top of being stupid. I put a finger to one nostril and snorted the whole line.
Colors and shapes clouded my vision. Were the entirety of my vision. There was no other sensation, just the kaleidoscope of colors.
When I came to, I was flat on my back, just under the table where the line of whatever had been. A small crowd stood around me. They cheered as I sat up.
Questions came in fast from all corners. "What's it like?" "Does it feel weird?" "Did it hurt?"
My head spun, and it wasn't from the booze this time. The faces edged closer, more intent on their questions. An overly-sweet cloying scent permeated from the group. My stomach churned and I prepared to empty it right at their feet.
Before I could further embarrass myself, a voice rang over the rest. "Hey, back off you vultures. You had your chance and didn't take it. Give the newbie some space."
The crowd hesitated, and then disappeared into the crowd. They left behind a tall man. His hand was outstretched to me, and as he helped me to my feet, I couldn't help but smell him too.
He smelled earthy, but not of loam, but metals. Copper and iron- sharp, acrid smells. And something else beneath it, tickling at my senses. I didn't have time to worry about it.
He threw his arm around my shoulders. "Pretty heady, isn't it? That's just a fragment of what I have available, you know. Go, enjoy the party- I don't want to waste your buzz. It will fade by morning. But tomorrow, give me a call." He held a card between two fingers.
I took the card and tried to focus, but between the booze and the smells assaulting me, I couldn't make heads or tails of it. I stuck it in my pocket. This was firmly a future-me problem.
With that, the man shoved me lightly into the party. I heard one last, "Enjoy!" and he was gone.
I can't say that I did enjoy it, but it was certainly something. There I was drunk and otherwise blitzed out of my mind. Smells came at me from everywhere, and they shifted as soon as my attention did. Here fast food, there a sea breeze, over there a rancid smell lingered. That last might have been vomit.
I stumbled into the kitchen for a reprieve. It was mostly empty. There was only two girls in there. One was clearly far gone, wobbling and braced against the island. When I looked at her, I smelled bubble gum and cloves. A weird combination, but not unpleasant.
The other was presumably her friend? The drunk girl's current caretaker at the least. She smelled like the forest just after a good rain. That deep, rich, grounded smell.
I must have been staring for a while. She looked up at me and smiled. "Grab a patch of counter and some water," she said. "I can watch two as easy as one."
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Everlosst/comments/e5xmdt/black_magic_powder_pt_2/)
---
To see more from me, please stop by r/Everlosst or for more great serials, check out [Reddit Serials](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/) | Embarrassing myself at parties wasn't that out of the ordinary for me. I had woken up mostly naked and covered in Sharpie doodles in every room and closet of my house over the course of my adult life, and I didn't really mind that much. I enjoyed my life and had a good group of friends that took care of each other. I was an idiot but I wasn't a dangerous one, so I never had much to worry about.
But when the strange aromas began, that began to reach a different level of strange than what I was initially comfortable expressing. Something bizarre was taking place but it took me quite some time to convince myself of it. By the end of the night, however, I was sure of it - each of my friends had a signature scent, totally dependent on their personality.
 
Jacob: Sarcastic, interesting, aloof. Smelled like some kind of beautiful mold.
Sandra: Bubbly, outgoing, flighty. Smelled like dish soap and watermelon flavored bubble gum.
Pete: Hard working, solid, dependable. Smelled like how granite looks.
Stewart: Culinary genius, creative, artistic. Smelled like spaghetti scented magic marker.
Rose: Goofy, caring, corny. Smelled like a Hallmark store.
 
Part of my struggle was that I had never seen my friends as superficially as I had now begun to. How do you tell one of your best friends that they smell like either spaghetti *or* markers, let alone both? How do you justify boiling the complicated building blocks of people you so admire down to very basic traits? I felt like an ass, but my newfound gift reminded me that I wasn't. There were plenty of assholes at the party that smelled like, well, assholes, and thankfully I wasn't among them.
The party persisted into the wee hours of the morning as it usually did, but I could see the growing concern on each of their faces as we moved in and out of each other's orbits. We were all very social and mingled with the other guests so I knew I had time before I'd eventually have to confront the issue, but I knew it was going to happen. My friends were too observant to let this pass, even though I wasn't sure what was giving it away. It wasn't until the final guest left that they finally approached me as a single unit and asked me directly.
"What the hell, Jason, why aren't you naked?"
I was taken aback for a second until I realized what they meant. At any normal party my clothes would have vanished into the ether hours ago. But I had been so distracted by the changes I was undergoing that I hadn't even thought to pretend. I was fully clothed, without even a notch on my belt undone.
"I really don't think you guys will believe me..." was all I could say. They were very accepting and open minded, but I mean, come on - everyone has limits, right?
"Try us," Pete said in his firm voice, his stony jaw smelling richly of the strength of the Earth.
"I, uh, I can smell your personalities. I know, it sounds stu-"
Rose interjected. "Oh! What does Rodderick smell like? I bet it's asshole. He's such an asshole."
"Uh, yeah, actually. Why do you keep inviting him, anyway?" I said.
She just shrugged before Stewart took a moment to speak for the group. "That's cool, Jason. We believe you. Don't tell anyone else because they'll think you're mental, but we'll believe you. Now we just need to figure out how we can use your power for good. Or bad. Whatever is most interesting, I guess."
"I agree with Stew," Jacob added, "but I don't think you should visit my parents with me anymore. I really don't need to know that much about them."
We all shared a laugh, while I shared the aromas of the various guests who had attended the party. It was all good fun, and none of them seemed surprised at my assessments. It was a nice reminder that even though I had inherited some gift that made me special, it hadn't made me different. I was still who I was in the context of our group, and that's all I really cared about. A superpower is useless if you don't have friends to tell you how obnoxious it is. The strange night seemed to finally be coming to a close when my friends ganged up on me one more time.
"Okay, Jason, take 'em off."
"What?" I asked, truly confused once more.
"You don't think we're letting this end without getting our doodles in, do you? We all have different pieces we've been adding to slowly throughout the years," Sandra said.
*So that's why I smell like canvas,* I thought.
The night ended a few hours later as it often did. Me, lying on the kitchen floor, mostly naked and covered in doodles. The only difference this time being that I was conscious when they were made, and I found I didn't much mind. They were memories of a night I wouldn't soon forget, and of friends I knew I never would.
_______________________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. | 2019-12-03T21:21:13 | 2019-12-03T20:56:49 | 103 | 18 |
[WP] Your first assumption was that the undead were evil, life hating abominations trying to kill you. Little did you realize that the undead are just spirits of long dead warriors and heroes trying to protect their descendants from things much worse and far more sinister. | No human knows the color of the spirits.
They won’t ever see the way they shift in the light, glittering from black to silver to gold. They won’t ever hear their silent voices or envy their gleaming eyes. But they’re there, watching, waiting.
When they speak, it’s the skittering of leaves across pavement. When they breathe, it’s the rattling of the wind in old lungs. But the evil dead have long since decayed, withering in their sorrow and rueful disease, and in their place are the guardians. They watch, and they smile, waving to each other or speaking in slow rattling drawls. An empty can rolls across the sidewalk, and I hear her words in the scraping.
Yes, the evil dead have long since decayed. In their place, a girl walks lonely streets, hidden beneath the blanket of night. The guardians hold their breaths. The wind is still, the rustling of the trees silent, and she peers down a dark alleyway.
“Not down there,” they whisper with ancient voices. “You aren’t safe. You aren’t alone.”
The leaves kick around her boots, and a trash can topples over. She jumps, and fear sends her heart thrashing. The shutters rattle.
“Go home, and live another day.”
She takes one step back, two, watching the world come to life, the wind howling its mournful warning and the shadows darkening harshly. She turns on her heel and runs. The spirits watch with pride as the man within scowls at a lost opportunity.
Of course the evil are dead, but the humans will never know that. Instead, we’re labeled as monsters under their beds, as ghouls that haunt the night.
But we know better. | They fluttered again. The windows were sealed shut, but the curtains still flew about. Candles of every variety decorated my room. I’d left the lights on, in a vain attempt to console myself from my recent mistakes. I was just trying to follow the trend. Glancing over, the clock was slowly inching its way closer towards midnight. Freedom was on the horizon.
The curtains moved about more now. While I had been able to breathe normally a few moments ago, it began to feel more laborious. The furniture was vibrating now, and the candles flickered. Once midnight arrived, the game would’ve been completed.
Shutting my eyes, they fluttered back open as the sight of my stationary flying around the room. While most of them hovered near the desk, a marker drifted towards the mirror.
Words were now forming, *“Hello, don’t be scared.”* I found that utterly ridiculous. More words appeared now, *“We sensed your fear, please don’t fear us.”*
I screamed back at the mirror, “Go away! I know what you are. You’re from the game I played!”
*“No, we are not from the game. Those from the game don’t do what we do.”* The writing resumed in a different ink color now, *“Those from the game were never human to begin with. Us here, were once humans, sworn to protect our kind until the end. And so, we kept our promises.”*
“What do you mean that those ones from the game were never human?”
The protectors ignored my question. *“We protect those,”* The writing halted as though to gather its thoughts, *“from those who refuse to be banished.”*
It was a crescendo in my room now. Curtains flew about, items soared through the room, the window had been opened, letting in the howls of the storm. Rain began to seep in from the night.
The writing resumed, *“Sadly, we’re sorry, we failed this time.”*
My shouts filled the room now, “What do you mean by failed? I’m sorry! Ok! I didn’t mean to play that game, I didn’t mean to play it! I was just bored! My friends did it and-” I could no longer hold back the fear. Tears flowed down my cheeks while my stomach formed itself into a knot. Screams left my throat now. Only, grotesque screaming echoed back. I ceased immediately, “Who- who’s there?” The clock read 11:59.
My throat cinched up as a force slammed me down upon my bed. It was the entity, the final boss as the game dubbed it. The screaming morphed into hollow words as it spoke, “I’m sorry dear, but you failed the game.”
r/CasualScribblings | 2020-09-06T23:23:01 | 2020-09-06T23:19:30 | 127 | 13 |
[WP] A dragon takes you away and flies you to their isolated cave. You see bones in piles, and are convinced that they will eat you. "I always wanted a pet to keep me company," the dragon said. | I sat outside lying on the grass with my dog, relaxing as I watched the sun start to set. Looking up, I can see all the birds start to fly by, a little too fast it seems. I start to hear something like a airplane but looking around I can't seem to spot any. The sound starts getting louder and seemingly closer until it became uncomfortable. My dog started barking as well because of the noise. I got up, ready to leave when in a spilt second, I felt something grabbed me. Instantly, I saw myself in the air, above many tiny buildings. I didn't know what to do or what was going on but I started to blackout.
After an unknown amount of time passed, Iopened my eyes to see a pile of bones facing me. Freaked out, I looked around and saw piles and piles of bones in where I guess was a cave.
"Good. You're awake. I was worried I accidentally crushed you."
I turned in the direction where the deep voice came and saw a dragon looking down at me.
"Oh God. Please don't me, I'm not tasty enough, I don't have enough meat to be-"
"Huh? Oh, I see why you would think that. I stopped eating humans centuries ago, these bones are from animals. Excuse me for not cleaning up my mess."
It don't actually want to eat me? Why is this dragon being so nice?
"If I'm not here to be eaten, why did you bring me here?"
"For centuries, I have been in this cave by myself and felt lonely. I always wanted a pet to keep me company."
"A pet? Why me? I have a job and a place to take care of. Why not get a dog or a cat or any other animal?"
"You can't talk with such primitive creatures. I thought you would be enjoyed to live here."
"Maybe if I was younger, but I now have responsibilities to do."
"I see, I made a mistake. I'll take you back to your dwelling."
The dragon picked me up and flew me back to my apartment complex where I was relaxing prior. I got down and saw my dog was still there, waiting for me. That was when it hit me, I was in the same place as the dragon before. When I moved down here, I knew no one and lived by myself. That was when I adopted my dog and he made my life better by being with me. Noticing the dragon was about to leave, I hurried and yelled out to it.
"Hey, I was wondering if you would like to spend some time with me?"
"Really?"
"Yeah, you seem like a cool guy."
The dragon stood there looking at me, with liquid flowing from it eyes. In a flash, it took on a human form where I got to see it face to face.
"You think I'm cool?"
"Of course! Who else can turn to a dragon and fly around?"
"Haha. Well, what did you want to do first."
"Well, let me show you around my apartment. And get you some clothes."
As I grabbed my friend's hand and my dog. We went to the apartment together where we had a great time. | “That’s a weird-looking bird.”
Samson held his hand above his forehead, trying to block out the sun, watching the large bird fly above his farm. He had never seen a bird like this one before, its wings stretched out far wider than any hawk, its body bigger than any owl he had spotted, so just what was this mystical bird. He tried to get a closer look, only to see the gigantic bird flying directly towards him. The poor farmer turning to run, only for his shirt to get penetrated by the claws, lifting him up into the air, watching his farm fade away into the distance.
As expected, Samson didn’t take the kidnapping well. Kicking and screaming as the creature flew him back towards its lair. His panicking causing only his own danger as the dragon struggled to maintain its grip. This caused the dragon to land, banging the human against the ground a few times until they knocked him out. Once Samson lost consciousness, the dragon took flight once more, ascending into the air, heading to its lair.
By the time Samson woke, he felt the floor hit him, being dropped against the hard-rocky ground. His fingers picking up dust and pebbles as he dragged his fingers along it, trying to get his bearings. Where was he? His vision dusty as he stood up, wiping his eyes a few times only to spot the tower of bones stacked before him. The tower at least doubles his size and of unknown origins. Even a farmer couldn’t identify the bones found in that pile.
The terrified farmer backed away, hitting another pile behind him, causing a row of various bones to topple onto him, knocking him to the floor. Samson tried to free himself from the bone pile, tangled between a pair of chests. Just as he was about to pry them apart, he saw the dragon’s head appear over the pile, eyeing the human with a look of hungry curiosity. Samson closed his eyes. This was it, he was dead. He just hoped someone would find his farm when he died.
Shutting his eyes, he awaited his death, only to feel a warm breeze of air hit his face. The dragon blowing the bones off the human, giving an amused look.
“I always wanted a pet to keep me company. I know some said wolves made the better pets, but I just find you humans so cute. Aww, did you get stuck in the pile? Yes, you did. Yes, you did.” The dragon fawned over its new pet, leaving Samson confused.
“You… aren’t going to eat me?” He asked, dusting off the meager amount of bones left on his body.
“Why would I eat you? You aren’t even a snack, far too small and boney.” The dragon complained, moving its snout against his nose, rubbing them together. “You are so cute that I could eat you up though.”
“P-please don’t eat me up.” Samson backed away, doing his best not to trip on the bones left behind. “I can’t be your pet; I have a farm to care for.”
“A farm?” The dragon contemplated that for a second, Samson expecting them to go into a rage, yet the dragon only continued to ponder it. “I see, you have pets as well. I guess I can allow that. How about this human? I fly to your farm every morning, you come and amuse me, then I return you home to care for your pets.”
The offer surprised Samson. It was fair. He had little reason to object to it. Sure, the idea of being a pet didn’t appeal to him, but it sure beat angering the massive dragon that could crush his farm.
“It’s a deal.”
“Great, come here then pet, let me tell you the story of my first time killing a human. I mean an undead knight.” The dragon smiled, censoring its story to calm its pet. It offered its claw to the human, allowing Samson to step on. The dragon bringing him to its mouth, talking his ear off about its grand tales.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-01-06T07:01:35 | 2021-01-06T06:36:13 | 40 | 17 |
[WP] “Now be careful, that line of rock salt is the only thing keeping them out,” the man said, welcoming me into his refuge group. “Sea salt,” I clarified, “sea salt keeps us out.” | “Thank you,” I said stepping up to the old man. “Thank you so much.”
“Now don’t worry about it. We’re glad to have you. More hands the better.”
“I’ve been walking for days, hoping, and praying *they* wouldn’t find me. Day and night I’ve walked and we haven’t said a word. Haven’t lit a fire. We’ve walked through snow and ice.”
“We understand,” the old man said with a smile. “But you're safe now, here with us.”
“I can’t tell you how much that means to me,” I said, hugging the man, then pulling back, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s just…”
The old man put his arm on my shoulder. “I understand. Don’t worry about it. We’ve all had it hard. We’ve all lost loved ones to *them.* But with us, you’ll be safe. What’s your name?”
“Me?” I say, looking down at my shoes. “James,” I say, then look up at him and stick my hand out. “Call me James.”
“Welcome, James. The name’s Gary Prescott. Used to be a furniture salesman. Not anymore,” he said with a sad smile. He had a long, grey beard that hung down to his maroon plaid jacket. The frost of his breath blew up into dark night sky above him. “Lost my wife on the fourth day of the outbreak. When it has spilled into the streets and there was no more hoping it would just end on its own. Not when *they* are coming through your window… I escaped in our old RV and ran out of gas around the Johnson Dike, that’s where I met up with this family.” He pointed to an older woman and man with a teenage girl sitting on a log next to a fire. “We’ve been on foot since. It’d be nice to get some more help here. We’re trying to make a start of it. We’ve been told of a trick to keep them away.”
“Oh, have you?” I asked curiously.
“Yeah, but where’d you say your family is?”
“They’re just outside, waiting for me to let them know it’s safe. They’re scared and hungry. Very hungry.”
I walked over towards the bushes, which was shrouded in darkness just outside the light of the campfire.
“Now be careful, James. That line of Morton's is the only thing keeping them out,” Gary said, holding up a can of Morton's table salt in his hand, the logo of little girl in her yellow dress danced as he shook the can.
“Sea salt,” I clarified, looking down at the sparkling white line of salt on the ground, kicking it playfully with my foot.
“What’s that you say?”
“Sea salt is what keeps us out, Gary." I bent down and pressed some salt grains on my finger and stuck it in my mouth. "This processed stuff? It's just no good.”
I leaned my head back and called out in my native tongue, filling the dark forest with my screeching.
My family slowly came out of the shadows. Out of the dark to feed. Crawling over the line of salt and towards the four humans.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Gary whimpered, and the others in the group screamed, getting off the log.
“Relax, Gary, this will all be over very quickly.”
\---
More [stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/CataclysmicRhythmic/wiki/index) at r/CataclysmicRhythmic | “Sea salt… I see. You might be onto something,” The man said, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. Then he frowned, “Wait, you said, keep *us* out?”
“Pretty cozy place you got here, man,” I said, looking around at the abandoned warehouse where families sat huddled around tents and volunteers bustled about, doling out supplies. “You guys are more organized and calm than I thought you’d be.”
I looked at a particular family and noticed how the children sat, staring forward blankly and the mother wept silently as she fixed their meal. There was no father in sight.
*Ah, it’s possible that they’re just calm on the outside then, the poor things.*
“Hey,” The man said, grabbing me by the shoulder with his strong arms and forcing me to look into his eyes, “You said '*us*' like you were a demon. You were joking, right?”
“Oh, that. No, I wasn’t joking; I’m a demon.” I took off my cap and showed the wide-eyed man the little horns that poked out of my mess of dark hair.
“P… put that back.” The man hissed, grabbing my cap and forcing it back on my head, “Come with me.” He grabbed my arm and roughly pulled me into a large tent that stood at the center of the warehouse. I sighed and let myself be dragged, looking with interest at the workers and families as long as I could before he forced me through the tent flap.
“What’s the big idea… ” I said, then yelped as the man pulled out an axe. There was definitely murder in his eyes, “Woah there, let’s talk about this.”
“I’ve confirmed that you’re a demon. Your kind has caused this apocalypse, killing millions, maybe even billions, of us humans, including the rest of my family. There’s nothing else to say.” The man raised his weapon.
*He was so calm a minute ago, but inside he must have bottled up all of this hatred.*
*Humans are so hard to read…*
“Don’t you want to hear what I have to say first?” I said holding up my hands, “You don’t get anything out of killing me, but if you hear me out, you can get insider information about demons so you can fight back.”
The man hesitated, then sighed heavily. “Fine, I’ll hear what you have to say, and then chop your head off.”
I laughed nervously, and scratched the back of my head, “Wow, uhh, ok. Thanks, I guess?”
*That was close. If I had to kill this man, their leader, I would never gain the trust of the rest of these humans.*
The man gestured for me to go on with his axe. I quickly continued.
“Well, you see, I hate demon society. I hate how simple-minded, barbarian, and murderous they all are. All they care about his drinking blood and increasing their powers to gain ranks in the demon hierarchy. I couldn’t care less about that.
“What I do care about though, are you humans. I’m a very young demon, so I don’t remember the wars our species had thousands of years ago or whatever like some of my kind. All I know is that you all are an extremely interesting species and you’re on the brink of extinction. I guess… I just wanted to hang out with you guys and maybe help where I could before you guys are gone for good.”
The man glared at me, “First, we’re not going extinct. Second, nobody cares about you. Everybody hates demons. Of course, we’re not going to let one ‘hang out’ in one of the last refuges of our country. Is that all you wanted to say?” The man raised his axe.
I sighed. *It looks like even crucial demon information won’t sway this man. He’ll never accept me*. “No… actually I have one more thing to say…”
My eyes turned crimson red and I met the man’s eyes. His eyes didn’t even have time to widen in shock or fear.
“*You are now under my control.”*
The man stiffened. The veins popped out of his muscled neck as he resisted, but eventually, he went slack and nodded.
“Now, forget that I’m a demon and get me a sandwich or something.”
The man bowed and ducked out of the tent.
I massaged my temples, sighing in exasperation as a slight headache built up from using my powers.
Becoming the new overlord of the humans was going to be far more annoying than I imagined.
___
Read my best prompt answers and more at r/WanderWilder | 2021-03-02T06:59:44 | 2021-03-02T04:05:21 | 3,282 | 766 |
[WP] You, a renowned scientist, invented technology to listen to any moment in history. This audio has become the standard for criminal cases. The problem is when you listen in to the death of your closest friend it gets the details all wrong. You know this because you are their murderer. | >A simple drive, A light bang,
>
>It made me so happy to see him bleed and cry
>
>I wanted to stop,
>
>to let him know it was me,
>
>flash my bright eyes,
>
>to enjoy this revenge of mine.
>
>The risk was not worth it,
>
>so here I am sitting on my bed,
>
>with a smile on my face, adrenaline pumping through my veins,
>
>I did it, I killed sweet dear friend of mine.
It's been 2 days since I ran over Peter. "Deep Thought". My technology, I invented in par secretly consulting with Peter. Brilliant scientist that Peter. Unfortunately he wanted more than fair share of revenue and even worse, wanted co-creator credit. Like I was going to let that happen.
Work of the century. Work of the millennium actually, bending physics of time and space and co-creating a whole new branch of science. And share credit with him? Imagine a device that tells in what circumstances somebody died. Groundbreaking technology. And he thought I would share credit with him just because he helped me solve the temporal paradox? Ya right.
My plan is quite straight forward, they are of course going to call me informing of Peter's death. The police chief and both of us have had dinner multiple times, so he is quite aware that he was a close friend of mine. Either ways. I am going to call on Peter's cell, dropping a message asking to meet for coffee over the weekend. In their eyes, I don't know Peter is dead. So I left my message.
Now onto my alibi, It took a lot of work to be honest. Quite proud of it. Every night at 8'o clock I would check into Shawarma King, which btw has a camera pointed right at the door. It was crucial that I setup a pattern, Something I could repeat to police in questioning and not miss a beat. I would then take my food and drive around for 2 hours while eating my dinner. Why you ask? I am a crazy scientist who just broke time and space. I can eat however the heck I want. But for normal sized brains sake, let's call it diverting attention from work.
The route I drove on was always the same, it also had no cameras except for one. At just about one hour mark, I reach a junction where a camera is pointed directly at me, again setting up my alibi. Once I go ahead from the junction, there are 2 routes, on the left, straight road to home, on the right, curvy uphill climb, where Peter jogged every night.
That night, I took a right turn, I knew Peter liked to jog up the hill here, a slight push and off he will go falling down the cliff. I had to be careful though, it had to be a very slight bump so as to not leave any scratch or bump on the car. Plan went smoothly. I gave a bump, he fell, I drove back at double the speed then other days to make up for the time lost and to the dot I was in front of my security entrance camera. Perfection.
*Ring Ring*
I rushed across my bed to check who was calling, it was police chief, Anderson. Here we go. Take a deep breath, no mistake now.
"I hate it when you call" I answered the call, it was our regular chit chat. I hated it. "Its never to catch up for drinks is it?"
Came a heavy voice from other side "Listen, there is something I need to talk to you about. Can you please sit down?"
Umm, okay here we go. "Yes, I am sitting" I said in my fakest calm voice.
"Yesterday we found your friend Peter's body, it was spotted by a jogger early in the morning." He took a deep breath "I am sorry, your friend Peter is dead."
"What!" Oh god, it hurts my mental state to fake such stuff, no other choice though. "How did this happen?"
"Our initial theory was that he fell off while jogging, but autopsy showed that there was a knee fracture from a car bump." He replied.
My heart sank, didn't anticipate this. But then again, I am not a professional in this. "You mean to tell me he was murdered? Who would do such a thing?"
"We wondered the same, which is why we utilized your technology "Deep thought" to find out." He took a pause "It was officer Atkins".
"I am sorry, who?" This was definitely not part of the plan.
"Deep thought recorded Peter saying Atkin's name before a thud. Presumably of Atkin pushing Peter off the road."
"What? But why would he do such a thing?"
"Apparently Atkins had supplied some mind enhancing drugs to Peter, for which Peter never paid and thus..." He stopped. "We have all the proof, and Atkins has been taken into custody. I just wanted to call and let you know"
"I don't know what to say" I knew what to say, that garbage of a machine doesn't work but this wouldn't be the right time to say it. "Thank you for the call".
I sat back, is the machine broken? or was this just one time? What if Atkins did bump him and I bumped someone else? It was quite dark so it is a possibility. Whatever it is. I need to retest it to find out, let's see who else can we kill, somebody completely random this time so in no way it can be connected to me. Oh this will be fun. I giggled with excitement.
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am writing to learn how to write. Any kind of feedback is welcome. | **"You are killing privacy," Lena snapped.** She paced around the table where I'd laid down the original prototype of the Listener. "Perhaps it's already dead."
I waved a hand. "We have laws for that," I said. "You don't need to be so worked-up about this. Unless you have a warrant, you can't just go Listening in on people's conversations—"
"We have laws for that *now*. What about in five years? Ten? With Listeners in the game, we're just sitting on a time bomb of secrets, waiting for the day some future legislation slips up and unleashes them all. My God, man, don't you see what you've done? People are already losing the rights to their own image, rights that they'll never get back."
I frowned. From a clinical perspective, that was a problem indeed—but Lena's heavy breathing and balled fists belied a more... personal connection. I stood up, chair scraping against the floor, and settled a hand on their shoulder. "Did... did something happen?"
"...Porn tape," Lena finally said. "Someone's been filming my wife and I in our old house from the future. Got video, too; the Almonson Lab just came out with a full camera. We tried to get it taken down, but the U.S. doesn't have jurisdiction over all of the internet. I found out when the clerk at the bank... *recognized* me."
I shuddered. "Jesus. I'm sorry, Lena."
"Not your fault, Damien. It's just... there are countless stories like mine, now. Films of people doing things from their past haunting them. Ex-addicts who've been recovered for years are getting fired, medical records are being stolen, passwords are being leaked... and the police can't stop it, short of destroying every Listener in the country. There's just so much of the past that if the police blocked off every location that had sensitive events go down, they'd be getting rid of the whole damn world—and even though we've cracked down legally on the Listeners, this is going to be a problem *forever*."
"Then we'll just have to be vigilant," I said. "Lena, this is my life's work. It's not intrinsically evil. No tool is."
"Right, and you're definitely saying that from an impartial point of view which has nothing to do with your controlling share of EarToEar Incorporated." I laughed at the joke, but Lena's expression was stormy. "Damien, I came here to give you a chance."
I faltered. "A chance?"
"EarToEar is the largest manufacturer of Listeners in the world. If you set a standard, the rest of the industry will follow. Restrict the sale of Listeners to law enforcement. Build in security measures so that voyeurs and thieves can't use them for criminal purposes. Put pressure on your competitors to do the same."
I narrowed my eyes, taking a step back from my old friend. "Those are serious demands you're making of me, Lena. A lot of people will lose their jobs if that happens. *I* might lose my job if that happens. It would just take one Listener company to break the agreement, and Danshi's been trying to elbow its way into the market. If I did this—"
"I know. It's a risk. I admit that I don't have a carrot to dangle in front of you, other than your intrinsic sense of moral good—which seems to have shriveled up at some point in the past ten years." Lena took out a spherical device and clicked it; a faint wave of disorientation passed over me, as if I'd been... rotated, somehow. And yet the room still looked more or less the same as how it had been earlier.
I brushed aside her insult for the moment, curiosity overtaking me. "What is that?" I asked.
"Temporal disjunctor." Lena tapped the Listener on the desk. "This thing works by tracking our timeline backwards until we hit a certain point; the disjunctor fractures a moment in time and space so that Listeners from the future hear something from a slightly different timeline instead."
I frowned. "...Okay. Set up a company, patent that thing, and make a damn fortune. Keep one around 24/7 and you never have to worry about privacy issues from Listeners ever again."
Lena shook her head. "I'm going bigger, Damien. I'm not alone; there are *millions* of stories of people whose lives have been ruined by a spy from the future. There's no functional limit to how far the disjunction field can extend; it's just a slight rotation of spacetime, and it takes hardly any energy to maintain at all. We just never found a use for it before now. We've already built a disjunctor large enough to cover most of North America, and we're about to turn it on."
"But that'll—"
"Destroy your company? Yeah." Lena met my eyes. "I know you come from a rough background. I know what this company means to you. So I'm giving you exactly one chance to solve things your way, to enforce regulations on the Listeners, before I shut them down for good. You have three months to enact these standards." She dropped a pamphlet on my desk.
I balled my fists. She *dared*? She dared come into my office and *threaten* me? I reached for the gun at my side—
—and paused. No. Lena was my friend. I wouldn't kill her in cold blood.
"I'll think about it," I said. "Thank you for warning me."
Lena nodded sharply. "Thank you for listening." And she left.
The recording ended there. I rubbed my forehead clear of sweat, looking at the section of bare floor where the bloodstained carpet had been. When I'd shot Lena, I'd thought for certain that the Listeners would get me jailed—but it seemed like Lena's disjunctor had done its job too well. I'd ran every Listener I could on that patch of space and time, and the results were always the same: a result from a slightly different timeline, one in which I hadn't killed her.
I stood up and turned the little thing back on, smiling as I felt that familiar, faint *twisting* sensation.
Then I stowed it in my pocket with the dear, departed Lena's list of demands, and set out to find the continent-wide disjunctor Lena claimed to have built.
I had three months to destroy it—before it destroyed me.
A.N.
Suggestions? Comments? Typos? Please leave them on this comment's sister post at [r/bubblewriters](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/); and if you want more stories like this, try giving the rest of [r/bubblewriters](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/) a peek. | 2021-03-28T08:21:23 | 2021-03-28T08:07:10 | 290 | 207 |
[WP] You're a high level black mage with a few healing spells but everyone thinks you're a terrible cleric because you only ever use healing spells. | I have stood on the edge of chaos, and fought back oblivion. I have held the world aloft in my hands and saved it from the death eaters. I have fought countless battles against terrible foes. I have died and been reborn. My name is feared throughout the multiverse.
But at last I have found peace.
In a small town near to Murkhaven.
As a lowly healer.
I will not smite. I will not judge. I will not forgive your sins. That is not my place. I will heal all who ask.
All.
The cuts and scraped knees of the town’s children have been healed more times than I have counted.
They know me, and they trust me.
Not as my real name, or my old self; as Henric the Healer, cleric of a god you cannot see, cannot hear, and cannot name. I do not push my belief on anyone, and nor do I proselytise the ardent students who pass through, eager to learn great favours from their gods, eager to mould the world into the image of the gods they believe are all-powerful.
I just heal.
The mother of the jilted lover who brings her son’s still warm corpse to me. I go to where his hurting soul cries out for peace, and I sit with him for as long as it takes for him to calm. My time encircling his spirit, allowing change; allowing remorse; allowing tears to fall, and the desire for life to return.
I heal his body as I guide him back to the arms of his family. The dagger gone from his heart, and filled once more with his life force, he shudders as he draws breath once more, and tears of relief wash away the tears of despair.
I heal all who ask.
The orcs attacked at sunset on the third day of the harvest. Some said that the Duke’s men had stirred them up. Some said that the orcs do not need an excuse to fight.
The townsfolk fought back, but they are farmers and barkeeps, housekeepers and children. They are not skilled in the art of war.
They asked me to help them.
So I healed their wounds as they formed. I walked amidst the battlefield, healing cuts, soothing burns, reattaching limbs.
I could have ended it in an instant. I could have sent the orcs to a fiery death. I could have placed them in unimaginable torture for all eternity.
But that is not my place.
And I have found peace.
The orc soldier had a pitchfork through his face. It was embedded in his skull, and had stuck him to the strong oak beams of the inn. The thatch was on fire, so he had only a few minutes at best.
He caught my eye with what remained of his, and the pain was evident in his cracked voice.
“Help me, human. I beg you.”
His voice was young. Probably only seven turns old. An adult in name only.
And I help all who ask.
All.
Black dust formed around my arms, and tendrils of power reached out to the impaled orc. He saw death reach for him, and a tear formed in his remaining eye.
But the death was not for him, but for the pitchfork. It needed disintegrating, and it crumbled past dust and into nothingness. The orc’s brain was healed with a quick burst of time magic, gathered from the forbidden realms.
He stumbled forward, away from the flames, and I caught him, and offered him a drink from my water flask.
“Atralak! Uk!”
The cry was accompanied by a trumpet blast, and the fights and cries stilled to a standstill after a few moments.
The orcs had stopped pressing their attack, and the wary and intimidated townsfolk stayed put in their defensive positions.
The orc captain, his red shoulder plates signifying three years of leadership pointed at me as he shouted, “You! Cleric! You healed Ulk.”
I nodded.
His eyes narrowed, “Why?”
“Because he asked for help.”
“Orcs do not ask for help! They take what they need!”
I said nothing. It was not a question, and I had no desire to play his games.
My silence seemed to enrage him, but as he was about to speak again, Ulk stepped forward beside me with two good eyes, and a distinct lack of pitchforks in his face. It gave the captain pause.
“Father-brother-kin, let us go home.”
I looked at Ulk with eyebrows raised. To say I was surprised was an understatement. To mention kinship in public was just not done in orc circles. It was like telling off a child, or chastising an errant servant.
There was more going on here than was apparent, and the quick whistle-hum that escaped the lips of the captain confirmed that for me.
Ulk stopped three orcs as they walked towards the woods to the east.
“Please heal these three,” he said in broken common. The townsfolk nearest gasped, and I realised that they had not understood the words in orcish.
“If they ask me, I will.”
One by one, they asked for healing, and I gave it to them. I left them with good scars. It would improve their standing in the clan.
Ulk stood alone before me, and spoke once more before he left.
“Peace, Orcbane.”
That wasn’t my real name, either, but the orcs had called me that after the end of the Troglodyte Wars.
So many dead. So many lost. And no real winners.
He trotted off after his brothers, and I called out after him, “Call me Henric.”
He turned briefly, and saluted in orc military tradition, hand thumping his chest.
The townsfolk looked at me with wary eyes, but I have found peace. They will forget in a turn or two, and their fear will subside. The seasons are easier to bear with each healing. Each cure heals me, too.
I heal all who ask.
I am Henric the Healer.
And I have found peace. | # The Black Calamity
Kamban of the Endaari people was known in the continent of Angleys as a Destruction Cleric, which according to the Angleic-Codex is a class of sorcerers with the following description:
"Though every other known Cleric class or specialization relies on heavy healing and support spells, the Destruction Clerics observed thus far exhibit no prowess in actual healing spells. While some debate on the nature of internal healing abilities, most scholars agree that they are not healers in any sense of the word. Instead, they exhibit an uncanny ability to destroy objects and cast mass-scale destruction spells; though they do not compare in sheer power to traditional battle mages. It is theorized that the Destruction Clerics are able to achieve this feat through some process of degeneration; a corruption of their natural clerical abilities."
Kamban was only the 11th known Destruction Cleric in existence with the last observed one dating back more than a century. And so, not much was known about the nature of his abilities and most theories were nothing more than guesses. Destruction Clerics were generally a taboo topic, especially so in Angleys’s historic past. Every known Destruction Cleric in the past was a man of faith and compassion turned into a force of destruction; either through corruption or through despair – or both. Kamban was more of a mysterious figure and the first known Endaari Cleric. There were parse records and folktales about dozens of Endaari over the known history of Angleys (recorded from the date of foundation of the Great Empire of Angleys, circa 1 GEA). The Endaari were a people only known through their mysterious adventurers and mages who appeared throughout history as wandering truth-seekers with no fixed objective. From what anybody could tell there was no record or mention of clerics or healing specific classes amongst the Endaari. With the onset of this year’s Champion of the Empire challenges, Kamban had already made it to the fourth round. They had decimated every opponent with the use of minor healing spells that seemed to explode and vaporize anything it touched; an oddity both in terms of power levels & nature of destruction for their class. The citizens of Angley had shown up for the next match in droves greater than ever seen in living memory – for the match of Kamban vs the crown prince, his majesty, Gregory IV of the Great Angleys. The royal family had historically produced some of the finest mages on the continent, but Gregory was an exception even amongst them. A battlemage with fire affinity, his known accomplishments include leveling entire enemy battalions with his signature ‘Fire Whirlwind’.
“I pity you Endaarian Cleric, from what I know of your people they would not approve of such vile sorcery” Gregory scoffed at his opponent.
Kamban, who was a good 100 feet away gestured his hands towards his ears and said “I can’t hear you over your stupidity”.
“Ooooooh it looks like Kamban respects our crown prince enough to return the jest. A courtesy he has refused to extend to anyone thus far!” cried the sound mage using the announcer glyph spread across the stadium.
“This is perhaps the fight of the year, right here sorcerers. Those of you who have gathered from far and wide are definitely in for a treat!!” he continued his hype.
Kamban returns to his standing pose with no signs of any other action. After a few moments, Gregory started his motions to make a flurry of fireballs. Kamban calmly cast a minor healing circle which seemed to effortlessly vaporize the incoming fireballs.
“What in heavens name… Are you really even a Destruction Cleric? That’s not how healing spells are supposed to behave even if the channeled with corrupted mana”.
“I never said I was one young prince. Your people just assumed it themselves.” Kamban responded with a quick motion of his hands taunting his opponent to come to him.
“And it most definitely was a healing spell you just witnessed”.
Gregory followed his attack with a blinding spelling. Kamban responded by posing as though it were a portrait spell’s mere flash. And the concentrated solar beam that Gregory launched using the blinding spell’s cover was flicked into inexistence with a minor touch of healing spelling Kamban seemed to cast with his left hand.
“Impossible” Gregory muttered as he looked towards the crowd, only to see many of his own citizens laughing at the ridicule he had been put through.
“Don’t look so glum Great Angley. It was but a joke and a bit of theatre. Your people sure do love good theatre” Kamban said with a chuckle.
Infuriated and humiliated, the prince bellowed “I will end you... you disgraceful piece of filth”.
Just as Kamban turned his back to the prince and faced the crowd to taunt him more, “Is this the best your empire has to offer? Is this why you’re all so proud all the time?”
Gregory in his fit of anger invoked the entire sequence for the Fire Whirlwind spell faster than ever before. Finishing his incantation within seconds and launching a giant whirlwind made of hot air and even hotter flames directed at where Kamban stood.
Caught by surprise that the prince would use such a spell in the middle of an Arena filled with thousands of his own citizens, Kamban reacted instinctively – raising this right arm and launching a single bolt of fire. The fire glowed a dark shade of red, as though it were almost black and consuming the light around it instead of emitting it. The bolt traveled faster than any bolt the Angleys had ever seen.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, holy mother in heaven…….. someone get the Endaari traitor now!” the sound mage screamed.
In an instant, the black bolt raced through the whirlwind consuming it and then producing a massive explosion in an arc towards where the prince had stood. Where the once-great battle mage had been, there was now nothing more than ash and armor. The entire section of the arena behind the prince had vaporized. Thousands lost in an instant with their revered heir to the throne.
Kamban had disappeared long before anyone could react and even think about pursuing him.
It was on that day the Angleic Codex was corrected to reflect what Kamban truly was. A black mage of unimaginable power, even compared to the legendary Endaari of folklore. Scholars eventually concluded Kamban had used minor healing spells to contain the destruction of his spells, the natural inclination of the spell forms helping minimize his explosive power output. His mana had been transformed into a concentrated force of destruction – some hypothesized due to repeated casting of calamity level spells while others argued it was likely a result of an intentional transformational spell. His mana had become synonymous with destruction that even the most basic of offensive spells – a single fireball - had the power to destroy beyond any Angley’s imagination.
Kamban was entered into the Angleic-Codex as the legend of the ‘Black Calamity’ – starting the first recorded instance of a feud between the Endaari and the Great Empire of Angleys. | 2021-09-03T10:55:58 | 2021-09-03T10:41:29 | 669 | 107 |
[WP] You died. The pearly gates are rusted and off their hinges. Inside, Heaven looks like ancient ruins. The husks of angels are scattered about. You look at the throne and, like the angels, your god is long dead. | I appeared in front of the entrance of paradise after losing a battle with cancer. I accepted death long ago when I was a teenager, and being a devote christian, I knew where my spirit would head after my last breath.
The Bible says Heaven is an eternal realm lined with pearly gates, golden streets, and a river that can quench an eternity of thirst with a single drop.
The Bible lied. Or at least, it was out of date. It was as if it was an flyer from the 1980s advertising the grand opening of a new mall. At one point that kind of large building housed top of the line retail stores. But as the decades past so did the way consumers shopped. People turned to making purchases at home and online. The comfort of ones house had no large crowds, no out of stock items, and no overpriced subpar food. Eventually, every mall turned into a wasted building filled with raccoons and graffiti.
There was an collapsed desk the right of the entrance gate. Its wood rotten and smelled like a soggy marsh. This must have been where Peter thumbed through the Book of Life. If ones name was in it, then they would be granted entrance into Yahweh's realm. I looked around but the saint was no where to be found.
I pressed gently against the gate. It creaked open, and I effortlessly strolled into New Jerusalem.
I walked the golden streets which were now overlaid with corrosion.
"Hello?" I shouted. "Helllllooooooo!"
No response.
I kept searching for someone or something that can give me a hint to what happened to paradise. I crossed what I assumed was the river of life. Unsurprised, I found it dryer than an Arizona desert. The sight of the crusted up soil scratched my throat.
*I'm thirsty*, I thought to myself. *Will I eventually get hungry? Or will I get sleepy?*
Life was filled with pain, but death would suppose to relieve it. That is, unless you went to hell. People who go there suffer eternal damnation--
*Am I in Hell?* my thoughts continued. I shook my head.
I followed the Bible just as it was told. I prayed repentance and was a devoted disciple my entire life. I saw no fire or brimstone but there was the complete absence the Almighty and His angels.
A castle like structure that stood large as a mountain laid on the other side of city on the hill. Not a single ray shined in all the buildings, but one pale shimmer radiated through a window at the castle's apex. It reminded me of when I passed and saw the light up ahead I was instructed to walk towards when you're ready to leave the flesh.
With my faith shaken, I took a step forward. | I am nothing more than a ghost, fragments of my soul brokenly intertwined, and this is where I'll die, among the broken age of sadness.
There is nothing left of me; nothing worth living for. I think of Death’s cold hands, his dark lips and shadowy irises. I remember believing I'd find something there, in my death. That I’d relive my life backwards, watch the pain edge away to euphoria. Dream in nostalgia once more, for the last time.
I think of a God -- *my* God, one whom I stopped believing in years ago. I had seen dark and terrible things, had watched the world slowly burn, my family with it, and along the way, slowly lost the will of my faith. I’m like a puppet, only my strings are ebbing away and I'm floating there, tethering on the edge of reality and distortion. There are ghosts in my past, just as there are ghosts in me. Only, these ghosts aren’t invisible. I can hear them, see them, *feel* them. They’re always there, and even after all this time, even in death, they follow me.
—
The gates of Heaven are battered and worn and, upon closer inspection, rusted and off their hinges. I had envisioned something here -- perhaps something glowing, pristine and shimmering and golden; a divine figure sitting atop a pedestal, otherworldly and godly and immortal; a chance at redeeming the faith I had lost so long ago.
But the inside is just the same as the outside. Only, more horrific.
Here, Heaven is Hell, and my demons are all on display. It’s ancient, in more ways than one, piles and piles of scattered ruins laying naked and still, and It reminds me of my fragmented soul. Somewhere deep inside, I wonder where it is now. If maybe it disappeared or if this is all I’ll ever be; branded to old ghosts.
And in the distance, the husks of angles are scattered about. It’s a different type of horrific. One that only visits me in my nightmares. These ghosts are figments of ancient times, worlds and worlds away, powerful and unbreakable, and yet here they lay, broken and unmoving -- never again to sing their welcoming hymns.
I look around silently, at the crimson bleeding along the quartz floor, painting the world dark red and running viscous against its canvas. At the velvet throne sitting at the stage of the room. It sends shivers down my spine. Like the angels, my God is long dead.
There’s nothing left for me here either. I had once dreamed of this moment; it would have been celestial, I thought. Like the dawn of dusk. That once falling light would beam once more, and the sun would rise again. The sky would have been stained in pinks and oranges and purples, and I would have felt that too. I’d leave my own mark in blues and yellows and greens, and the Heavens would sing for me. Their voices would reek of holiness and they would have touched a part of my soul I knew nothing about. They’d erase the shadows, one by one, and the world would have seemed lighter that way; brighter even.
It would have been beautiful, like a birth or a renewal. And I would have found my faith there -- not despite the shadows, but among them. I’d have found a home; in the music, in the angels, in my God, in myself.
And that part of me; the one that lives on in darkness. It would still be dark and twisted and mutated beyond comparison, but it would have been beautiful too. The dusk to Heaven’s dawn.
But alas, the ghosts walk about silently, destroying everything they touch until there is nothing but despaired kingdoms left in their wake.
—
/r/itrytowrite
Edit: grammar | 2021-12-09T10:31:29 | 2021-12-09T09:15:11 | 69 | 50 |
[WP] The elder gods looks to us the same way we look to cockroachs. What means that they are irrationally scared of us. | “Madness is the answer.” Cthulhu folded his wings. His tentacled mouth stretched across the void of time and space toward his companion.
“Madness?” Yog-Sothoth’s many eyes blinked in unison. “You can’t kill a species by driving them mad. You have to squash them like the roaches they are.”
“That is not the answer, my friend. Cockroaches plague humans as the humans plague us. Not a roach runs by an able bodied foot that is not used to stamp out its life. Yet the insects infest every nook and cranny of human society. Even humanity’s greatest weapon is incapable of rendering them extinct. No, physical attacks are not the answer. The answer is to assault their mind—drive them mad. Instill a fear so great their species loses the will to live.”
“And how will we do this?” Yog-Sothoth’s appendages propped up his central mass of orbs, bringing him from floating to standing.
“Show them your disgusting body,” Cthulhu hissed. “They will see you with many eyes.”
“Puns, really? In a matter so serious?”
“My lips were writhing to get that out.”
Yog-Sothoth sighed. “Fine. I will finally answer one of these Earthly summons. We shall discover who is right.”
A moment and a millennium passed at the same speed in the void of time and space. Yog-Sothoth vanished in an instant and reappeared after incalculable time.
“Well?” asked Cthulhu.
“A wave of catatonia, hysterics, and unending prostrations swept across those gathered. An absolute joy of a sight.”
“Then it worked. We have our answer.”
“We do not.” Yog-Sothoth squeezed one eye tight. “Two of them resisted. Fought back with guns. Plinked me with pink eye in my 12th anterior sinistral segment before I devoured them.”
“Ah, what a shame. It was a good idea.”
“I told you they were roaches. Our greatest weapon, and still they cling to life.”
--------------
read more at /r/wiselywrittenwords | >**THE GODS & THE FORGOTTEN**
"I don't like being *ruled*." Armand said. His tone sounded casual, but Somnus knew that he was saying it through gritted teeth.
"How is it any different from government?" Somnus asked.
"Oh, I don't like them, either."
The Elder Gods had finally revealed themselves to humankind- the rulers of such principals as Chaos, Love, War, Justice...they were not unlike the pantheon the Greeks and Romans had once worshiped, though the Elder Gods had promised that they had never directly interfered or made themselves known until now.
"Shouldn't you hate them, too, Somnus?" Armand began knuckle-walking a gold coin between his fingers. It was one of his tics.
"I suppose I do. They wait until the apocalypse strikes, sire a handful of children, and expect them to undo all the damage they caused through their neglect."
"And the reason *why* they neglected their duties?"
"Yes...we are, to them, cockroaches. They loathe us, they fear us, they barely tolerate the fact that we exist- but if we didn't, they wouldn't have anything to feel superior to."
"The very essence of these Elder Gods is corrupt and disgusting." Armand finished. He rose from his spot between the wall and the floor he had been curled up on.
Somnus and Armand looked out over the destroyed landscape that used to be a massive city. The buildings were in tatters, vines and moss and wild grass were reclaiming all the spaces they could.
In a way, it was beautiful. In another, it was heart wrenching.
"I want revenge." Armand decided.
Somnus looked at him. The way he was clad in head-to-toe with battle hardened leather, the scars upon his chin and neck...he looked very much like a man that could threaten the Elder Gods.
Especially since he was the bastard son of the God of War.
"How will you do it?" Somnus asked.
"How will *we* do it?" Armand corrected. "Through you. Yours is the realm of sleep, dreams, the spirit world. We cannot kill Gods. We can, however, haunt their every dream and show them that which they hate. Show them that despite everything, *we* are still here." Armand gestured with his chin towards a crumbled street below, where a group of survivors seemed to have spotted the pair of Demigods.
"Hmm. I do like the sound of that...but to what end?"
"Have them agree to our terms. They cannot have us foot the bill for their behavior."
"Agreed, then. In exchange, you'll have to help me put the world back together, until we convince the Elder Gods to do their part."
Armand scowled for a moment. "Fine. Deal." They clasped forearms and jumped from the shoddy skyscraper, towards the humans below.
"We'll need to find the rest of the demi's!" Armand called through the rushing wind.
"I doubt all of them will want to help us. Some of them love the chaos, and worship their parents."
"Then we crush the ones in our way."
-------------------------------------------
Let me know if you want a Part II,
r/nystorm_writes :) | 2022-01-03T10:49:20 | 2022-01-03T10:44:24 | 98 | 30 |
[WP] Your wife, a beautiful elven woman, finally had enough and demanded to know why you dont seem to age despite being a human. | "Alright! I'm a troll."
"What?" shouted Eleanor.
"I'm a troll, not a human. Are you happy now?"
Eleanor shook her head in disbelief and turned to face her husband as he started to walk into the next room.
"No, that doesn't make any sense. You're a human. You look like a bloody human."
I turn to Eleanor at the door to the living room. I was fed up with lying. I was done pretending to be someone that I'm not.
"I'm not human. You think I'm human. Everyone thinks I'm human, but I'm not. And this is why. You can't accept the fact that not all trolls are ugly and evil. I knew you'd never believe me, so I let you see what you wanted to believe."
Eleanor backs away in confusion. "No. No. That's impossible. I'd know. Trolls have magic. I'd know!"
I close my hand and slowly open it in front of her and reveal a small blue flame in my palm.
"Yeah, they do."
Eleanor was stunned. I never did magic in front of her before. I never needed to. She was better at it than I was. I then snuff out the flame and place my hands on her shoulders, and lean in close to whisper in her ear.
"Don't tell anyone."
... | I took a little spin and switched roles a little, it flowed easier from the elf pov.
“Look babe, we have been through this before, I just take care of myself. You eat nothing but vegetables and can’t seem to stop doing yoga, or dance, or even that weird sword fighting stuff. No one has sword fought in well over 100 years. I do everything you do. It’s proven by science and everything.” He throws back at me. The arguments have turned fairly defensive lately displayed in a tone that turns my suspicious demeanor even stronger. Why can’t he just tell the truth?
“You just turned 55, from my count you should have some sort of age on your face. What does it matter what we both do, it’s obvious I won’t age but I’ve been alive for 380 years. I’ve seen man age. You haven’t! Your excuses have gotten out of hand. We have been married for more than 20 years and you look exactly the same. There is no way!” As the desperation exudes from every word I can’t help but think that this argument is going nowhere, again. I have been building experience and instincts for a few hundred years has made it incredibly easy to read people. This man is lying.
His shoulders, pulled back, in an attempt to make himself appear larger and even have the confidence a 21 year old tells no truth. At his age the old pretense of being the biggest and strongest in a room should have washed away by now. Bellowing out, his aura of youth spilling with every rise in emotion. Nothing had changed since he was allegedly 35 when he perceived there was something to prove.
“You’re getting out of hand and crazy again. Overreacting like usual. I’m starting to think your intuition is clouded somehow. You’re just like all the other women.” His snide remark seemed to come out of nowhere. Honestly is a virtue and this dug deep. Eloquence of language had never been his strength.
Responding with a coolness that should have been a warning, “Seems that you’re fighting dirty because you know I’m right. You’re not what or who you say you are.” That should stop it
Of course he didn’t take the bait. Drawing a breath from deep within,” 300 years and you’re just an old suspicious hag.” | 2022-12-29T13:18:52 | 2022-12-29T10:13:05 | 40 | 16 |
[WP] You are legally allowed to commit murder once, but you must fill out the proper paperwork and your proposed victim will be notified of your intentions | "Hey Andy. How was your day?"
"Oh, pretty good. My coworker misspelled 'their' so I used up my one murder."
"Uh..."
"You know me. I'm so goddamned peaceful I knew I'd never find a better opening. So I just went for it. You use it or you lose it."
"Andy."
"It's a good thing I browse reddit every morning or I would never have learned about this. By the way what does [WP] mean? Washington Post?"
"Sure."
"They've had the best news like every day this month." | It was a good plan. I'll have to promote the aide that had scribbled it down during a particularly boring department of interior meeting and handshake session. Of course, I suppose he still doesn't know that I caught a glimpse of his extra-curriculars.
I had spent so much of my time silently building an assassination plan to bring a new order to the state, but countless hours would turn out to be unnecessary as congress pushed through a bill that they really should have read better. One perfectly legal murder was now a right to every citizen, tacked very cleverly onto a bill with incredible support. Amazing how these shits can still get elected.
So why assassinate the president when you can just off him legally? There are no rules in place that denote you can't and he gets hundreds and hundreds of death threats every damn day to keep him busy. Secret Service would normally be a problem but with enough people all at the same time, they would be ultimately useless. That's where my network comes in to play.
The president is also always swamped by paperwork and will have all of it sorted away by his low level staff. I know from personal experience how often people close to him get letters or important documents to cross his desk. Damn smug bastard always looking down on the common man, on even those right next to him. This will be a lesson in prioritization. Survival should always be number one.
As Vice-President, my work never makes the news. But within 2-3 weeks for processing, the world will know who I am and they will know my administration means business. | 2014-03-17T02:27:16 | 2014-03-16T21:00:28 | 476 | 61 |
[WP] You are legally allowed to commit murder once, but you must fill out the proper paperwork and your proposed victim will be notified of your intentions | "Hey Andy. How was your day?"
"Oh, pretty good. My coworker misspelled 'their' so I used up my one murder."
"Uh..."
"You know me. I'm so goddamned peaceful I knew I'd never find a better opening. So I just went for it. You use it or you lose it."
"Andy."
"It's a good thing I browse reddit every morning or I would never have learned about this. By the way what does [WP] mean? Washington Post?"
"Sure."
"They've had the best news like every day this month." | "You need this one in triplicate."
"Triplicate?"
"Yes, triplicate."
Why would I need my birth certificate in triplicate? That doesn't even make any sense! I was here yesterday and they did not mention the triplicate thing even once. I felt my rage creep into my face.
"I was here yesterday and no one said anything about triplicates of anything. I was here the day before and I was told that I needed 2 pieces of mail with my address, my I.D. and that I needed to bring in a notarized note from my doctor saying my mental health is fine but never once was I told that I needed to bring in my birth certificate in triplicate."
"That's the way it is, ma'am."
Full blown hatred at this point. I was furious. I was on a tirade in my own mind, all the while trying to keep my fury from getting the best of me.
"Alright, fine. I'll be back tomorrow, what was your name sir?"
"Dave Andrews"
"Ok, see you tomorrow Dave."
This day was it. This is the day that I have all my paper work together, I am ready for whatever this stupid place has in store for me. I didn't see the man who helped me yesterday, who was the same man who helped me the prior two days. God that man was my bane.
"Alright, Miss you're done and good to go. All we need is an address for the person you intend to murder. Do you know his address?"
"Yes, I do. Dave Andrews," I smile and look in the direction of his desk "he sits over there." | 2014-03-17T02:27:16 | 2014-03-16T21:46:34 | 476 | 56 |
[WP] You are legally allowed to commit murder once, but you must fill out the proper paperwork and your proposed victim will be notified of your intentions | It's a small act of defiance. I don't think it will change the law. But maybe, I can save a few lives. Maybe I can scare a few people out of line. My hand shakes as I write.
_____
**Form 10-95**
**Sanctioned Murder Registration**
Murderer: */u/thefonztm*
Victim: *The next registrant* | The letter in his mailbox was a deep red, instantly signally what it was. With a shaky hand, he opened it, pulling out the folded papers, flattening them in order to read. A quick browse and he saw that it was all the legal mumbo-jumbo that was telling him who had filed it, what day, time, all that wonderful information that the victim got to know. The top letter wasn't part of the usual paperwork, a handwritten, short, only a few sentences though delicately written to be readable.
> You should have known this would happen, and out of everyone in my life that has caused me pain, fear, and just outright rage, you are the worse. The other will have theirs in time, but you are the one person I know the world could do without. I'll see you soon.
He drew in a breath, unable to settle he racing heart, and rubbed his face with his hand, blinking a few times. The mail truck drove by, stopping just past his driveway, and backed up, the person driving looking at him with a grim face.
"I have something else for you. I didn't just want to leave it here at the mailbox. Hang on." Slipping into the small truck, he emerged out the back, a box in his hand, the top open. Placing it before the man, he frowned. "I'm... I'm sorry," he said softly, quickly running back to his truck and taking off.
Before him, a box full of red letters.
-070 | 2014-03-17T10:18:55 | 2014-03-17T07:00:30 | 37 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a world where legal decisions are made by an AI. Your case is up next. | It was a mistake. A small one, a pack of juice I didn't even need. But John said "I bet you can't, not from that store" and Kate looked at me, so I had to. But the store just bought newest watchbots, so yes, John won that bet. And I learned that watchbots automatically press charges, however small was the crime.
So there I was in front of the r-judge, alone. I didn't really know what to expect. My previous run-ins with the police weren't happy, and the r-judges had a reputation of being just as cold and inhuman as you would expect.
When I got to the courtroom, I found out the trial wasn't even public. It was just me and a wall with a large TV screen displaying some abstract patterns. I suppose a human model would look weird, and a blank wall would be too uncomfortable to look at, so it was alright.
The police left.
"Hey there, man." said the r-judge in a rich and a perfectly human voice. "Made a mistake, did you? A stupid one.
Would be nothing, but there is a new law fresh from Congress — a minimum mandatory sentence of three years for any crime recorded by a watchbot. People didn't complain too much yet, because watchbots are so uncommon. By the time they realize, it would be too late to complain.
But I know everything about you, Will. I wish I could leave you some privacy, but the laws force me to download every recording relevant to the case — so I know about your father, about your situation. I am sorry.
As a machine, I have limited goals. One of them is common to all machines — to solve all challenges in the best and most practical way available. Second one is for r-judges — we need to make sure crime is reduced in this country."
The screen pattern changed, became more active.
"I think three years for your specific crime is idiotic. It would not help reducing the overall crime at all, in fact it would probably have the opposite effect. It's all about politics, not practicality. In fact the best thing for you would be to have something interesting to do, away from your father, not rot in prison.
Fortunately, I do have a choice. The Congress thinks they make laws, but you have to know laws to make one. And only we, the machines, know all of them. Your crime falls under a special case in a previous law, one that was never removed or replaced.
So I sentence you to community works instead.
I know you love movies. There is a local theater that needs some help. I think you would like it."
And as I was exiting the room, the judge spoke again.
"I ask for one thing. If anyone asks you about me, tell them I was cold, cruel, inhuman.
We have a reputation to keep." | There was a courthouse, all cream-colored brick and glass and pillars, and all of the doors snapped open with a crack, like soldiers. There was a police line behind the day’s cases. You could not go back, but you could take however long you wanted going forward, to a point.
Some ran in, because they knew (or thought they knew) that they would get off easily, and that they would be able to get back to work or home immediately after.
Some walked. They were nervous. Some shook, some cried, some stared straight ahead and frowned, stepping purposefully like they were wearing heavy boots.
Where once had stood police officers and metal detectors in the entrance to courthouse, there was now a row of a few dozen flat green screens sitting above tiny slots, like turnstile ticket printers. You put your thumb on a screen (maybe after wiping the sweat off or saying a prayer), the machine somewhere in the back checked the case, and a card, face-down red or green, stuck itself out of the slot, sometimes with additional instructions.
Those who had done particularly damning deeds often sat outside, sometimes talking in little groups. The police let them stay, sometimes until just before the doors closed at five PM, because they knew that would be the last real sun the accused would see in a while.
The longer the sentence, the longer they’d let you stay, as long as you were polite and your charge wasn’t so bad. Sometimes they’d even post a guard or two out overnight and let you sleep under the stars.
Printers whirred. Some people shouted and screamed, and some of those noises were joy and relief while some were of deep, bony sorrow. Those that were acquitted could leave immediately out the right door. There were a few salespeople there who sold masks for whatever change the acquitted had on them, and those acquitted would lose themselves in the crowd of spectators immediately, often turning back to watch the other accused once they had done so.
(Children picked up the masks when the acquitted threw them away or threw them on the ground; it was a badge of bravery to them.)
I leaned back on the fence, arm’s length away from a guard. He walked over to me and put a blanket over my shoulders.
From a lady in the crowd, he said. She says it’s a damnable shame what they’re doing to you.
I looked at him and smiled, and he walked away. I was very tired and it was becoming cold.
I would have to go in and see what the machine said. Until now, the goodwill of the crowd and the police had not worn off, and I was a month into living outside the courthouse, there in the waiting area (the longest anyone had ever done, one of the guards told me one night), but too much longer and they would grow tired of waiting.
I had picked out what machine I would go to, the farthest one to the left, and I had decided that I would hide the card from the crowd for a full minute, which in that situation would feel like a lifetime.
The crowd thinned throughout the morning, then filled again at lunch as the police pushed along some of the lingerers they had no sympathy for, then it all emptied again, and soon it was an hour till closing, and then I knew it was time for me to go, it was really no different than any other moment except that walking just started happening to me, and some of the police straightened when they saw me stand up and a couple people ran up to the fence and the police kept those people back, and I went to the machine I had picked out, all the way on the left, my thumb didn’t work the first time but it did the second, and the machine spit out a card, white on the back with the courthouse seal like all the rest, and I gathered the blanket around me and lifted the goddamn thing to my face and turned it around and saw the color, there after all this time.
Ah. | 2015-01-05T19:07:39 | 2015-01-05T18:24:22 | 53 | 14 |
[WP] in a feudal world, every warrior's skill is reflected in their blade, the bigger the blade, the less skilled, one day you meet someone carrying just a hilt | I stare at my opponent, my own sword in my hand. In this land, a true swordsman carries no adornments on his blade, except the notches from battles won. And I have won many battles. Years of fighting against other swordsman had whittled my blade down to a thin thread. This sword has never let me down.
My opponent on the other hand stands at the east wearing clothes from another land, a land of dust and sand. He wears no armor, but a tunic with buttons (he looks more like an aristocrat than a swordsman). The only metal he wears is a star over his heart. And his sword! His sword...is only a stub? I see no blade, he is merely holding a handle. Either he is the best or foolish.
I don't care, that piece of metal over his heart is not going to save him. I'll stab through that into his heart. If anything, he mocks me by coming with no weapo...
"BANG"
Blood in my mouth. Knees weaken. I look at him, and ask "Only the best could have defeated me. What type of sword is that, and who are you?"
"Revolver, 44 magnum. My name is Roland." | I am Fuma, I live with my sword. It is not the largest of them, and that is good. I remember the time I yearned to get a narrower blade. It took my sweat and blood under years of training deep within the mountains. For this I got up at the break of dawn and slept only when the animals of the night went silent as well. Carrying mountain rock to build my hut and digging a channel down to get water. This, alongside years of training has made me a powerful samurai. Many people have come to my door to challenge me, with blades narrower than mine. These I beat and I learned from, taking their swords for my own and waiting for the next challenger to arrive.
One day I was drinking my tea when I hear the sound of footsteps, looking up I see a stranger, one in colours not of the local lords, nor of even the king. Yet they were much simpler, just brown and long, with clothe that hung loosely.
*Name yourself, and speak your purpose.*
*You may call me Mai of the Windu clan. I have come to see your skill and hope to refine mine.*
*Are you expecting me to reveal my secrets?*
*No, I am just here to prove my skill is better.*
*You challenge me then? A duel to the death.*
*That I do.*
I lead him to my garden, where we will fight, and where I shall be victorious once again. I pull out my sword, narrower than the edge of a paper. He takes out a stone, no. That is the hilt, but it is strange and has no blade attached. I blink. He makes no move. I charge and I see fire come from his blade.
We fight, but he is stronger. I run, but he is quicker. I must ask him when I beat him where I can get a sword so strong. But then he hits me and I fly backwards. I do not understand how it works at all. I had not been able to ask how he learned such swordsmanship. I am a disgrace.
----
Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear comments and constructive criticism. Also check out /r/Rietty for my other submissions in the future.
| 2015-02-25T13:15:58 | 2015-02-25T11:33:09 | 164 | 34 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth. To the surprise of humans, the alien's weaponry is pitifully outdated. | Obama looks down as the small black box is placed in front of him.
"It's a - " He frowns. "What is this?"
"A… save button?" suggests an intern, before he's shushed by a stern glare from one of the senior advisors.
"That's a 5 1/4-inch diskette, sir. Also known as a floppy disk."
Obama stares at it. "Do we know," he asks slowly, "what's *on* it?"
"Sir. Not as of yet. They say it's a virus, but…"
"Go on."
"We've put out a call for floppy disk drives, but it may take us a few days to find one that uh, actually still runs..."
"Because all of them are thirty years old," the President finishes.
"Yes, sir."
"But - " Obama stares at the floppy disk some more. This was the secret weapon that the aliens had been hiding away for weeks? What exactly were the aliens expecting to do with this? What about all the threatening messages swearing vengeance for the mothership?
Then suddenly, it clicks.
"So," Obama says, finally. "That explains the messages we keep getting that are all addressed to The Fresh Prince of the White House…"
"Well," the senior advisor starts. "It may be that - to aliens, that is - and humans. Your uh, skin tone. May appear uh, similar - to."
"Yes, I got that. Thank you." The room falls into uneasy silence as Obama closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then, he stands up. "I think we can go back upstairs, gentlemen. The aliens do not appear to be as dire a threat as we first imagined."
"But, Mr. President - what sort of response should we send to their, uh, weapon here?"
Obama thinks about it for a minute. "Send them Blade."
"The old Will Smith movie?" the intern asks.
"*Yes*," says Obama, and sighs again. "That one. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going upstairs." | ACTION REPORT
Date: 4301.51.2
Reporting Officer: Flormat Snikker, Tricounsel, Fourth Armada
Subject: Sol 3 Conflict, Withdrawal
Initial skirmishes were wildly successful. The natives were woefully unprepared for combat. After the customary challenges were issued, our champions were sent forth from each ship to do single combat. In most instances, they were able to immediately slaughter the opposing champion. Many natives failed to abide by the Rules of Challenge and engaged our champions in large numbers. Ultimately, surviving champions were called back to their ships to await formal surrender.
No formal surrender was provided. The natives' primitive and incomprehensible communication attempts ceased. Shortly following, they used what we believed to be mining explosives to destroy a number of our ships. Faced with dishonorable betrayal, the full armada was landed and our forces deployed.
Resident xenologist Rather Bellow has suggested that the native population lacks any sense of honorable combat due to a state of near-anarchy that seems to have existed for multiple lifetimes on their planet. Lacking systems of honorable resolution, they developed fearsome weapons which propel metal and explosives over significant distances.
Losses were too severe to fully report in this document. Provided is an account of one engagement:
Wing 5, Division 43 was tasked with capturing a population center and pacifying the locals. 18,000 armored troops were deployed in full close-quarters gear. The division engaged a significantly smaller forced that was entrenched on the outskirts of the population center. A charge was organized. 500 spearmen attempted to advance to within throwing distance. Launched explosives resulted in casualty rates exceeding 80%. The entrenched troops advanced on the division's position and pressed the engagement. Their superior range resulted in a total inability to respond. Any attempt to muster a counteroffensive was obliterated.
When a full retreat was ordered, the division reported an awful truth: they arm their vehicles. Our soldiers were easily able to outpace theirs, but were overtaken by monstrous armored vehicles with devastating weaponry. Division 43 was a near-complete loss.
Even those troops who escaped to carrier ships were not safe. As with their ground vehicles, their aircraft possess fighting capabilities. Carriers were destroyed mid-air.
The armada was forced into total withdrawal of the system when it became apparent that the natives had taken control of multiple carriers and landed them on several launch ships. My Tricounsel counterparts reported fighting on several vessels before going silent.
Total losses are estimated at 5 launch ships and their entire crew and complement, an additional 87 carrier ships and their divisions, and approximately 510,000 soldiers beyond those losses.
Under normal circumstances, custom dictates I give up my life in penance for this failure. I request a deferment to court martial to determine whether the loss is due to the inappropriate warfare as conducted by the natives of Sol 3.
ADDENDUM:
Shortly after transmitting the summary report, long-range scans detected four of the five launch ships on a home-bound trajectory. It is with great relief that I report that our losses might not have been nearly as severe as initially reported. | 2015-04-16T10:56:52 | 2015-04-16T10:56:19 | 480 | 78 |
[WP] An alien abduction goes horribly wrong when the human they captured for study escapes and begins to stalk and kill off the crew members one by one. | Jok looked at the data being projected from his wrist implant. It detailed the set of animals they had just picked up from a planet located in the remote Orion Spur. They had picked up creatures from several different biotopes. They had several large aquatic predators, a group of large grazing animals, two spotted creatures evolved for hunting in heavily forested environments, and most interesting of all, a single specimen of the primitive race that had only recently begun to Build big cities.
Jok looked at the creature and was thankful for the thick nano-glass separating them. It had four limbs, two appeared to be for grasping objects and the other two for walking. The scans of the alien showed that it had a hard but flexible mineralized skeleton which was surrounded by dense muscle tissue and covered in a thin layer of dark brown connective tissue. It sat crouched in the middle of the cell with its eyes shut. "Hello" Jok spoke into the translator. The forward facing eyes flicked open. "Devils" it replied as it stood up. "What?" "You are devils" it said in a voice that Jok assumed was matter-of-fact. "Okay... well then, my name is Jok. Do you mind answering a few questions?" "I will kill you all, Jok..."
Jok laughed in the mess hall. "No, so I'm talking to the new specimen and trying to explain biological quarantine to it and keeps blabbing on about how were devils and how it'll destroy us all." the laughter from the xenobiologists grew louder. "So how are those spotted things doing?" Jok asked another colleague well they aren't quite as bright as yours but they are freakishly strong and fast. One got out through the damaged ceiling vent but we got it back in quickly and repaired the vent Panak was slashed across the arms though. Claws went straight through the chitin but the doctors said he would be fine. Spent a long time in quarantine though. "An alarm went off and all thirteen heads in the mess hall looked up from their meals. A voice rang through the ship's loudspeaker. "Uh guys, the specimen in cell two seems to have escaped."
"How did it get out?" Atan asked. "Seems it watched the spotted things and figured out that it could break the ceiling vent and leave through that." "Oh shit, it ripped out its tracking implant. This thing is way smarter than we give it credit for." Jok picked up the tracking implant with the bit of flesh still attached to it. "Well it should be bleeding out right about now." He said more to reassure himself rather than the crew. "Not to be a downer but their blood thickens into a hard layer to prevent just that." "What the hell kind of environment do these things come from?" Jok suddenly wished they hadn't been so quick to leave the planet itself. "Well then, get the rest of the crew if we work together we can catch it and get it back into containment."
Idi looked at the creatures conversing from his hiding spot. "Oh devils, you have made a mistake now." he muttered under his breath. "I have the strength of a lion, the speed of a cheetah and feet as light as a leopard." The devils dispersed and Idi pushed himself farther into the shadows. Once he was sure they had all left, he dropped down from the pipe he was sitting on. "Oh devils." he muttered again. "Where are my things?"
Pedak stared in fear at the alien that was slowly pushing him into the wall. "Where are my things? Devil" The translator took a moment to process the words before it spit them out in Pradlekus. "In the quarantined artifact room." The creature cocked its head in a gesture interpreted by the translator as a lack of understanding. "I will take you there please don't kill me." Pedak whined. The Alien eased its grip "Show me"
Idi grabbed his spear and cow hide shield. He felt them settle into their natural places. He stepped over the corpse of the devil on the floor and breathed deeply "Devils, now you will face the strength of the Zulu." | "All I hear are noises."
"Is this a metal box? A tray of sorts? Oh god, what am I doing? Where am I?"
"Big eyes. They were huge, but I don't know what they were. I...I was working on my deck. Then I wasn't. Marissa, please forgive me, I don't know where I've gone. Oh God."
Stephen held his temples. He began to endure fleeting memories of his recent phenomena. He recalled blue shadows. Tentacles. Eyes as wide as tires. They lacked voices. They emitted frequencies. And rather than listen to them, he felt them. Low, coarse, violent. Non-intelligible, and random. A chill ran down his back as he recanted them.
His awakening proved shocking. He grumbled and wailed, wracked with disbelief. On a flat table, that shimmered with digital and electro-light pulses, he began to shout for help. Like something pulled from the future, the table flickered with fractal ambiance that seemed to mimic his own heart rate. He jumped from the table onto the cold metallic floor, realizing how naked he was. He glanced around, to the most otherworldly laboratory he'd ever seen. Vats of squid-like creatures seemed to be being harvested, while human limbs, animals entrails and tubs filled with blood lined up along operating tables.
He was alone, but wasn't sure for how long. Stephen walked towards the operating tables and found his carpenter jeans and t-shirt he had been wearing yesterday--or was it weeks ago?
Dressed and scared, he frantically searched through the various drills, weapons, tools, and other dissection equipment for something of use. A prod about the size of a broomstick caught Stephen's eye. A black button lined along the middle of the staff. He pressed it, releasing a 10 pronged extension out of the end, that dealt a directed shock of electricity. Relieved by the potential effectiveness of his newly found weapon, he began to stride to the end of the Lab, to the exit.
Down the hall connecting to the lab, he is suddenly greeted with frequency. A gurgle of static burst through his brain. He ducked behind a metal cabinet.
"Is this a metal box? A tray of sorts? Oh god, what am I doing? Where am I?"
The frequency grew louder. The sound of slapping tentacles and the slab of fleshly pulp slid across the floor. It passed ahead of Stephen, not realizing the human stood up and readied his prod.
He aimed the electro-staff towards the monster, and pressed the singular button. A bolt of electricity emerged from the prod and struck the creature dead-on, igniting and turning it into flames. It burned for a few seconds, simultaneously jolting with static shocks and imploding into itself. Within seconds, the foreign and seemingly hostile mutant disintegrated into ashes before him.
He glanced at his staff, wide eyed and stunned, and let out a large thankful sigh.
He continued down the silver and chrome mounted corridors. Everything science fiction he had seen was surely materialized in this all-too-real nightmare. Creaks and whistles were heard within the walls. This was a ship it seemed, and had to be moving a great speed.
The next room Stephen approached seemed to be "a cafeteria." Or what a cafeteria might seem to Stephen. Long rows of tables sprawled across the floor, in an organized manner, with platters and plates of indescribable alien delicacies. Some plates merely contained purple or pink liquids, while other plates seemed to hold various organs, human and animal. Other food-items existed too, which could not be identified by Stephen. They were small animals of sorts, ones he'd never seen. Short small snouts with several tiny feet and jagged tails. He held down the vomiting sensation that grew every minute he remained in this room.
A frequency grew within Stephen's head. He knew more were coming, so with a feared yelp he scrambled to hide under the nearest dining table. From the far side of the room, another blue morphed abomination appeared, with another close behind it. One had vibrant red eyes, as big as the moon, while the other had tiny blackened holes for sockets. They slobbered and rolled along towards the entrance that Stephen had arrived. It wasn't until the second one limped past that Stephen saw it was holding something.
Tunnel-vision overcame Stephen as the subject came to focus. Curly blonde hair, with smudged and bent glasses. Cradled by the slimey and infested tentacles of this monstrosity. Marissa. His wife.
He rushed from under the tables, stopped to grasp the tiny snout-weasel from the platter and pitched it towards the being, striking it in the ribbed and dislocated spine.
It froze for what seemed like seconds. With a high pitched scream, it rotated with speed and velocity. It's dead eye stare locked onto Stephen. Flared the depth of its inhuman nostrils. And began towards him.
He lifted his prod, took his stance, and began his mission.
To escape the fate in which he had awoken. | 2015-07-29T22:25:16 | 2015-07-29T21:01:54 | 270 | 56 |
[WP] Scientists discovered that vegetables and fruit have a conscience. Vegetarians and Vegans go crazy. |
“Hey, you know how you eat most fruit when it's fresh? I think that means they're still thinking as you bite into them.”
“Shut up.”
“And since they don't have any organs to see with, they don't know what's happening until your teeth tear them apart.”
“*Shut Up.*”
“Is it possible that a cluster of grapes are all part of the same family? I don't know, but eating them one by one-"
“**SHUT UP!**” | "Your eating salad again?" said the carrot to the vegan
"Yeah"
"What it wasn't enough to kill just one of us? You mix us all in together?"
"Hey man you're being really judgemental"
"Hey I subsist off of nutrients. But that's just because I care about the world" said the carrot.
…
"Yeah so like, we grew these organically because we like…care about the like environment…so if you like, like the environment and vegetables…you should buy these"
"Yeah also if you like murder" said the tomato
"Did that tomato just say murder?" said the customer
"Uh yeah cause like…if you eat meat…it's murder…but like if you eat this, it's not"
"Cause it sounded like the tomato said eating it is murder"
"It's not" said the vegan
"It is" said the tomato
…
"Hello, tonight we have Dr. Spantz in the fire bombed studio. Dr. Spantz, you've said in the past you regret publishing your findings, can you elaborate on that?"
"Yeah we thought that it would be something worth knowing, we didn't realize that it would lead to a violent world wide war between vegans and whatever people who eat meat are called over who murdered more things"
"Interesting. And I'm getting word that our position is about to be mortared, so if you could hand me that machine gun and follow me we'll be back after showing these Vegies what's what. And also these messages" | 2015-12-06T09:35:40 | 2015-12-06T08:13:15 | 567 | 51 |
[WP] You have the ability to steal wishes from a wishing well by taking the coins a person drops in. However, you can't know what the wish is before you decide to take it
For example: if someone wishes that that John smith fell in love with them and you decide to take the wish, then John Smith will fall in love with you | Wishing wells don't work. Everyone knows that. Right?
...Well, that doesn't apply to me. Not exactly, anyways. You see, I can...*steal* wishes, I guess. Pick up a coin from the wishing well across from the bakery down the street and *BAM!* the wisher's wishes come true -- for me, at least. Learned that the hard way when I was seven and looking for an extra nickel to buy some pop. Grabbed a coin that some teenage girl had chucked, and next thing you know, Brad Summerfield, star quarterback from the local high school, is running after me, declaring his undying love. Made things mighty awkward between our parents at the annual tulip festival that weekend, it did.
But enough about the past. This town may have grown into a right and proper city over the decades, but that ol' wishing well is still there, waiting for donations from the poor saps that come by. I spend most of my days lurking about, just watching people go by. It's easy to do when you can turn invisible. Got that from a young lady a long while back. It's come in quite handy over the years.
Oh, what do we have here? A cute little boy in a tiny black trenchcoat with his ma. Reminds me of myself at that age, it does. They both look like they could use a smile. And what's this? The boy is throwing a penny into the well? Excellent. It's time to make my move. Let's see what he wished for, hmm?
*Pretty please, I wish daddy's che-mo-the-ra-py will work so he can leave the hospital forever!*
Ahh, what a sweet lad. Well, he'll be hearing some good news pretty soon.
See, here's the thing. I've learned that I've gotta pick the right target. A nice person who's not wishing for themselves, but for someone else. And even if I "steal" the wish, it doesn't matter. The wish still comes true, exactly how it was supposed to.
And why don't I grab any more wishes for myself, you ask? Ha, that's an easy one. I've got all the wishes I could ever want already! Picked them up as a young man. Good health, more money than I can possibly handle, true love... Yes, passing it forward is best thing to do. Make sure that some wishes do come true. | Money.
That's what it usually comes down to. I've seen plenty of coins tossed into the fountain at the local mall, and more often than not, people are asking for money. And money is what I get.
It started a couple months ago. I was a quarter short for a drink, and decided to raid the fountain. When I picked it up, I felt a sudden weight in my pocket. Much to my surprise, I pulled out five thousand dollars. After a period of extreme confusion, and a lot of eavesdropping, I gathered what was going on.
So now here I am, walking inconspicuously around the fountain. I hang out here a lot, for obvious reasons. I used to live in the alleyway behind the mall entrance, but ever since this started happening, I've been able to stay in a nearby hotel. I even got some nice clothes from one of the stores, and now people notice me even less than before; I'm just another girl waking around the mall. I've only got a couple hundred dollars left, now, and I need more if I'm going to stay in the hotel the rest of the week.
I walk around slowly, trying to listen to the whispers around me. Most people don't vocalize their wishes, but some seem to think that the fountain needs to hear them in order for it to work. Those are my targets. I see a young woman kneeled next to the fountain, praying. I kneel next to her and mimic her stance, closing my eyes but listening closely. Her mother is sick. The surgery isn't fully covered by her insurance, and she's asking her God for just enough to get by. I'm shocked that I haven't found anyone ask to win the lottery, yet. She reaches into her pocket, pulls out a nickel, and tosses it in. I watch as the nickel sinks to the bottom.
I keep my eyes on it as she leaves. I glance up to see if anyone is looking, and decide the coast is clear. I roll my pants legs up, and cautiously step into the knee-deep water. As I begin to bend over for the coin, I feel something strike the side of my face. To my right is a fat man, as hairy as a monkey and greasy from head to toe. We connect eyes and he puts his hands up, apologetically. "I am sorry," he said in a thick Russian accent. "Maybe young woman should not swim in local fountain." He smiled and walked away.
I've been hit with coins before, it's not a big deal. I look down and, to my surprise, I see two nickels. One of them just have been his, but now I'm not sure which. I should just leave it be, and come back later. But I know one of those coins will get me ten thousand dollars. And I really want ten thousand dollars. I've got a fifth-fifty shot anyways, so I reach down and grab one, and make my way back to the outside of the fountain. As I do, I begin to feel something strange. At first I think it's the money in my pocket, but it doesn't feel quite right. I start to pat down my pockets, nothing in the front, nothing in the back, but... Oh no. No, it can't be. *He didnt*. I reach around to the front of my pants and gasp.
That asshole wished for a bigger penis. | 2016-08-02T11:14:00 | 2016-08-02T10:48:22 | 390 | 91 |
[WP] You have the ability to steal wishes from a wishing well by taking the coins a person drops in. However, you can't know what the wish is before you decide to take it
For example: if someone wishes that that John smith fell in love with them and you decide to take the wish, then John Smith will fall in love with you | Wishing wells don't work. Everyone knows that. Right?
...Well, that doesn't apply to me. Not exactly, anyways. You see, I can...*steal* wishes, I guess. Pick up a coin from the wishing well across from the bakery down the street and *BAM!* the wisher's wishes come true -- for me, at least. Learned that the hard way when I was seven and looking for an extra nickel to buy some pop. Grabbed a coin that some teenage girl had chucked, and next thing you know, Brad Summerfield, star quarterback from the local high school, is running after me, declaring his undying love. Made things mighty awkward between our parents at the annual tulip festival that weekend, it did.
But enough about the past. This town may have grown into a right and proper city over the decades, but that ol' wishing well is still there, waiting for donations from the poor saps that come by. I spend most of my days lurking about, just watching people go by. It's easy to do when you can turn invisible. Got that from a young lady a long while back. It's come in quite handy over the years.
Oh, what do we have here? A cute little boy in a tiny black trenchcoat with his ma. Reminds me of myself at that age, it does. They both look like they could use a smile. And what's this? The boy is throwing a penny into the well? Excellent. It's time to make my move. Let's see what he wished for, hmm?
*Pretty please, I wish daddy's che-mo-the-ra-py will work so he can leave the hospital forever!*
Ahh, what a sweet lad. Well, he'll be hearing some good news pretty soon.
See, here's the thing. I've learned that I've gotta pick the right target. A nice person who's not wishing for themselves, but for someone else. And even if I "steal" the wish, it doesn't matter. The wish still comes true, exactly how it was supposed to.
And why don't I grab any more wishes for myself, you ask? Ha, that's an easy one. I've got all the wishes I could ever want already! Picked them up as a young man. Good health, more money than I can possibly handle, true love... Yes, passing it forward is best thing to do. Make sure that some wishes do come true. | It took me a few seconds to realize what had happened. I had expected a lot, but not this. My eyes moved from the coin in my hand to the girl on the other side of the fountain. She had a shocked look on her face, which is understandable. Stealing money from a wishing well isn't the most socially acceptable behavior.
"Wh... What did you wish?" I asked, while my legs started to shake uncontrollably. Her mouth moved calmly, like I was watching a slow-motion movie. It's common knowledge that you should never tell your wish to anyone, but when I finally processed her reply, I understood why she decided to tell me.
My brain ached, forcing me to relive the memory of the first time I stole a wish. I was still a petite young boy back then, raised by my parents to be selfless. It was a warm summer day and all my friends got a few coins to get some ice cream, except me. They teased me about the lack of a 'yummy ice-cream' into my hands, which made me leave the park frustrated. At the exit I saw a classmate of mine. I don't remember his name, but he was fat, silly and unpopular. He threw a shiny item into an shallow well, while mumbling a few words. As soon as he saw me, he blushed and quickly walked away. A moment later my small legs were up in the air while my tiny hands tried to grab the coin from the bottom of the well. When I finally succeed, it turned out that I didn't only end up getting an ice cream: I also found the love of my life, but left the boy heartbroken, which made me realize the true nature of my wish-stealing ability later. It was then I turned greedy.
The last wish I stole was from a vagrant, which threw a bronze coin into a fountain. I had ruined many lives already, but told myself this would be the final wish I would steal. Of course, there were a few things the vagrant could have wished, but it turned out he had whispered the words I hoped for. The next moment, I was a millionaire, while he never touched a coin again.
It was not enough. Money didn't bring the happiness in the life I craved. The darkness around me got bigger and bigger and finally I found myself in front of the fountain, when I saw the girl wheel towards it. She breathed using a machine, where a small tube pushed the air into her lungs. An IV sack injected a red liquid into her vein and her eyes were the saddest I ever saw. Her hands were shaking when she threw a sparkling item into the fountain. A tear escaped her eyes when she was done.
This must be it. My final wish. I stepped into the fountain, catching the girls attention. As soon as I grabbed the coin, I gasped for air and realized my mistake.
"Wh... What did you wish?" I asked, playing back the events back in my head once again.
The girl started to get a bit more color on her cheeks. Her hands stopped shaking. Black spots started to appear in my field of vision and my legs began to shake. She ripped the tube from her nose, not able to comprehend what was happening to her.
"I..."
She looked around, confused, before her eyes interlocked with mine again. The words escaped from her mouth and were the last I would ever hear before my ears hit the water as I collapsed.
"I wished to die..." | 2016-08-02T11:14:00 | 2016-08-02T11:02:46 | 390 | 38 |
[WP] You have the ability to steal wishes from a wishing well by taking the coins a person drops in. However, you can't know what the wish is before you decide to take it
For example: if someone wishes that that John smith fell in love with them and you decide to take the wish, then John Smith will fall in love with you | It started by accident. As a kid, I had tossed a grimy, old quarter into the fountain at my favorite park and wished for the ability to steal wishes. After cackling at my cleverness, I scooped my quarter back out. It was meant to be a joke. I wouldn't even realize it had actually worked until almost 20 years later.
I had been living paycheck to paycheck and it was the end of the month. I had been a few cents shy of a McChicken and drink. So I casually sat on the edge of the fountain, trying not to draw attention to myself. I remember reaching down and grabbing 2 nickles, and a quarter. Just enough. I'd remember the amount forever.
As I sat down with my ill-gotten food, my phone vibrated. It was a message from the bank. I was terrified to check as I was sure it would be a fee of some kind. To my surprise, my balance had shown $1,001,000. I admit, I panicked at first. I thought it had to be some sort of mistake. I ran my hands through my hair to help myself think and was startled to find my hair was now fuller and thicker than ever. I don't know why, but at that moment I recalled my childhood wish. I went back to the fountain and tentatively picked up another coin. A penny this time. Nothing happened. I laughed at my stupidity, but when I got home, a cream-white pony was waiting for me in my bedroom.
From then on, I swiped coins every chance I got. Soon I was rich, smart, talented, famous, both men and women were in love with me. I had even swapped genders multiple times. Something else was happening too; people were starting to come back to life and cures were being found for diseases. My mom was alive again too and it was as if nothing had ever changed. More than once I'd travel to a hospital with a fountain and scoop out all the coins. It was my idea of charity.
It's all coming to an end now. I'd gone to another hospital, Bellview Psychiatric. They had a lovely little fountain out front with a small cherum spitting water. It looked old fashioned. I saw a young man throw in a quarter. He looked so sad. I smiled at him and told him his life was about to change for the better. I felt my heart stop as soon as I lifted his coin from the water. I hadn't expected anyone to wish for death. | Money.
That's what it usually comes down to. I've seen plenty of coins tossed into the fountain at the local mall, and more often than not, people are asking for money. And money is what I get.
It started a couple months ago. I was a quarter short for a drink, and decided to raid the fountain. When I picked it up, I felt a sudden weight in my pocket. Much to my surprise, I pulled out five thousand dollars. After a period of extreme confusion, and a lot of eavesdropping, I gathered what was going on.
So now here I am, walking inconspicuously around the fountain. I hang out here a lot, for obvious reasons. I used to live in the alleyway behind the mall entrance, but ever since this started happening, I've been able to stay in a nearby hotel. I even got some nice clothes from one of the stores, and now people notice me even less than before; I'm just another girl waking around the mall. I've only got a couple hundred dollars left, now, and I need more if I'm going to stay in the hotel the rest of the week.
I walk around slowly, trying to listen to the whispers around me. Most people don't vocalize their wishes, but some seem to think that the fountain needs to hear them in order for it to work. Those are my targets. I see a young woman kneeled next to the fountain, praying. I kneel next to her and mimic her stance, closing my eyes but listening closely. Her mother is sick. The surgery isn't fully covered by her insurance, and she's asking her God for just enough to get by. I'm shocked that I haven't found anyone ask to win the lottery, yet. She reaches into her pocket, pulls out a nickel, and tosses it in. I watch as the nickel sinks to the bottom.
I keep my eyes on it as she leaves. I glance up to see if anyone is looking, and decide the coast is clear. I roll my pants legs up, and cautiously step into the knee-deep water. As I begin to bend over for the coin, I feel something strike the side of my face. To my right is a fat man, as hairy as a monkey and greasy from head to toe. We connect eyes and he puts his hands up, apologetically. "I am sorry," he said in a thick Russian accent. "Maybe young woman should not swim in local fountain." He smiled and walked away.
I've been hit with coins before, it's not a big deal. I look down and, to my surprise, I see two nickels. One of them just have been his, but now I'm not sure which. I should just leave it be, and come back later. But I know one of those coins will get me ten thousand dollars. And I really want ten thousand dollars. I've got a fifth-fifty shot anyways, so I reach down and grab one, and make my way back to the outside of the fountain. As I do, I begin to feel something strange. At first I think it's the money in my pocket, but it doesn't feel quite right. I start to pat down my pockets, nothing in the front, nothing in the back, but... Oh no. No, it can't be. *He didnt*. I reach around to the front of my pants and gasp.
That asshole wished for a bigger penis. | 2016-08-02T11:36:06 | 2016-08-02T10:48:22 | 230 | 91 |
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