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[WP] You lose a dare at an airport and are forced to ask an employee for a ticket to the farthest destination. To your surprise, they quietly nod and give you a single ticket with letters you don't recognize.
EDIT: Holy *crap* this blew up. I want to thank everyone for their stories and input, and also would like to shout out the one dude who took their time to give me Reddit silver. Thanks for my first award! | He shoved the ticket into his pocket and walked down the hallway toward the Plane. He checked his watch: 12:04 PM. Losing the dare was an annoyance, but one that he hoped would not eat up too much of his day. With enough luck, he would be Transported to the strange destination printed on his ticket, fulfill the usual requisite couple hours of exploration mandated by the dare, and return in time for his dinner meeting at 6:00 PM. It was crucial that he perfectly pitched his latest vision to his most promising backer in the city leadership. They were all skeptical of his claims and even more uncertain about the methods by which he hoped to implement his ideas. But he was certain that he could get through to this one. Thoughts of how he would conduct the meeting filled his mind as he walked—then vanished just as quickly as he stepped onto the Plane and was greeted by an Attendant:
"Welcome onboard. The Time will be the 28th day of the month 'June', year 1971. We will return on the same day and month in the year 2031 for pickup. We hope you enjoy your stay on planet Earth, Elon."
Elon immediately turned around, but it was too late. The entrance had shut. The room began to glow with a luminous blue light as the Transporter hummed to life. He groaned in frustration. He couldn't believe they'd pulled something like this on him, especially on such a crucial day. The last thing he needed was a 60 year stint on an old, backwater planet that was technologically light years behind the city he was working to improve. But there was no way to reverse the process now. With a sigh of resignation, Elon lifted the crumpled ticket out from his pocket and tried once more in vain to make out the strange, primitive letters signifying his home for the next 60 years: PRETORIA, EARTH.
​ | I’ll take one ticket to the farthest place possible, I remember asking the quiet woman at the flight counter. It was only meant to be a joke, but instead of laughing it off, she typed into her computer for a moment and then printed out a boarding pass. She handed the white ticket to me, and although I didn’t know what to say, I took it from her hands.
I remember the ticket felt strange to the touch, like it was made from some sort of feathery paper. My wife and I often went on trips abroad, and I served a couple tours overseas when I was in the military, but none of the boarding passes felt quite like this one. I looked at the ticket itself, but couldn’t really make out the text, like the ink was squirming and morphing, trying to escape the paper.
I remember I somehow made my way through the labyrinthine airport, through security, the terminal, and the bright, still runway. I don’t think I considered much during the journey, as the only thing my eyes fixated on was the strange boarding pass. There was something wrong with it, and my thumb continued to run across its surface.
I remember I was the only one in the flight, but for some reason I thought nothing of it. It wasn’t important, I thought, since this flight was created only for me. I sat down and got comfortable. My index finger drew circles around the peculiar boarding pass.
I remember the flight soared far above the clouds, and I couldn’t stop thinking about my wife and our unborn child. I was so scared to think of having a child in our life, but finally I was starting to accept the possibility, and I wondered what to name him if he was a boy. I tried bending the boarding pass between my middle and ring fingers.
I remember how I was suddenly hit by apprehension at some point in the flight, wondering where I was going and when I would be able to come back. I cried and cried, and begged the flight attendants to land the flight, but they never looked me in the eyes. I crumpled up the boarding pass.
I remember thinking back to all the mistakes I made before this moment. The people I betrayed and the things I abandoned. Was it ever possible to take back the things I threw away. I once again tried to read the boarding pass.
I remember considering suicide in the airplane cabin. Where would I go if I died up here. Would I be able to go back? I tore the corner off the boarding pass.
I remember wondering how old my child was these days. Do you think they found happiness? Do you think they remained faithful to their loved ones. I really hope they do. I straightened out the tattered boarding pass.
I think about all of this every now and then as I fiddle with the strange piece of paper in my hands. All I can hear now and all I will be able to hear is the hum of the engine and the vast silence of the skies. | 2019-03-04T22:57:51 | 2019-03-04T22:27:07 | 126 | 39 |
[WP] You are a software developer with a strange power. You can tell what the cost of a line of code is. Normally the cost is measured in cpu cycles, or bytes of RAM, or hours of future maintenance. Today it's measured in lives lost. | In the testing suite, we wrote a list of errors, and exceptions would return a number referring to the error in the code. It was just for development purposes. Next to one of the exceptions we declared, I saw a signed integer. Negative six.
Everyone on the team was so excited to be making something so novel, groundbreaking. A machine that targets just the tumors with a laser beam of radiation. No chemo, no months and years of pain, just one shot to kill the tumor. It was so fulfilling to be making something that would truly save lives. Not some new operating system or audio encoder. This was something that really mattered. Here I was, making it work, as efficiently as I could.
The functions in the code told me their secrets that others had to test and calculate on their own. Search function runtimes and sorting algorithm efficiency was transparent to me. This was my gift. It allowed me to move quickly, confident that infinite loops and deadlocks were never possible (the numbers I see would climb to near infinite until I corrected these scenarios.) No module ever ran longer than it needed to.
"Has anyone written any documentation?" Mable asked.
"How could we? It would never keep up with what's getting written in the software." was the reply.
It was true. No one bothered writing in plain speech how our machine worked, because it kept changing and getting rewritten every day as we sought to perfect every aspect of its functionality.
But there was that number. A cost. A negative cost. But what could an error code possible cost? And such a small number. Couldn't be CPU cycles or memory address spaces. I pored over the code and found nothing. The error was related to a race condition, that's all. A keyboard interrupt when one was impossible, but we put the error in anyway. It was just a testing suite. I knew the program was perfect. I knew better than anyone.
Afterword
Between 1985 and 1987, there were six documented cases of extreme radiation poisoning in cancer patients treated by the Therac-25, a laser radiation machine controlled by a computer. Investigations uncovered that, when the operator entered the specifications too quickly, the laser would successfully fire, but the computer would return an ambiguous error code. The operators usually thought it had failed and would fire it again. Other times the laser would fire at hundred times greater power than normal. These incidents have been described as one of the worst cases of gross negligence in software design to this day.
Edit: Holy moly thanks for the gold!! | My name is Jeraldo Joestar. For as long as anybody can remember, my family has possessed strange and otherworldly powers, known as Stands. My Stand, [Radiohead], is a 2008 Dell Latitude. It possesses an undeniably unique ability: commented next to each line of code is a short statistic that represents the repercussions of writing that line.
Usually, this ability is completely fucking useless. In an age where having a supercomputer stashed away in the pocket of a 6th grader is seen as acceptable, who gives a shit if a line of code isn't efficient.
However sometimes the statistic is a bit more...interesting. Just last week, I was tasked with fixing a core function in a popular website hosting service. Next to a rather innocous line of code was a comment that read *orgasms caused: 1,024,414*.
But today...well, I'm not even sure what to make of it.
*lives lost: 4,241,153,143*
When I agreed to take on this government project, I was told to sign a NDA and other documents whose sole purpose are to keep my mouth shut. Not that they needed those documents anyways, because I haven't the faintest of an idea of what this code is for, only that the calculations behind it are incredibly convoluted.
Exploring the code yields only *ankles broken: 1*.
See, this is the issue with my "power". Sure, it can be helpful sometimes, but usually it does it fuck all.
*What to do... what to do...*
Suddenly, an idea pops into my head. An old memory, almost forgotten. See, when I was little, my grandpa have me an arrow. I was told to stab myself with it if things ever got difficult and my Stand needs a little kick. At the time I assumed it was just another one of his crass, shitty little jokes.
Eh, stabbing myself with a rusty arrow isn't the worst way to spend a Monday evening...
**Hours later**
*Oh well, here goes nothing I guess*.
I entered a world of light, and for a moment I forgot where I was. And then, just as quickly as it came, it left. My hands shaking, I opened my beat up little Latitude, and navigated to the snippet of code.
Nothing. Just that little comment, sitting there, mocking me and my helplessness. As my cursor hovered over the horrible number, I cursed myself and my useless stand.
*God if I only I could just see-*
My world turned into a maelstrom of light and sound. And it all became clear.
I was designing a module for a neural network.... A platform.... designed specifically for combat....
*skynet?*
Nope.
Oh. I see. A security robot is posted at a secret nuclear missile facility. Due to its semi-intelligent and autonomous nature, it is left to its own devices for a long period of time. 3...no...5 years. At some point, it malfunctions, and hackers are able to use the robot to launch the missiles. Billions die before governments realize what had happened.
But how does it malfun- oh. You can't be serious.
Memory leaks are a common issue that many coders face. However many often go unnoticed, since usually the application is restarted before the leak becomes a problem. But 5 years is a long time, even for the most advanced machine ever built.
Remember kids, use good coding practices, somebodies life could depend on it! | 2019-06-05T18:57:28 | 2019-06-05T18:30:51 | 609 | 223 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | You know, in hindsight, I shouldn’t complain, but you know.
I really want to.
When the “Lottery” happened, many individuals got ultra powerful, well, powers, at their disposal. Practically gods in their own right. Others were just excellent marksmen, builders, soldiers, bartenders, others monsters, behemoths, and creatures from the depths of hell and the ocean floor.
Me, on the other hand.
I had recently installed an old childhood game of mine that had been remade. Or rather, Rewritten. See, I loved Toontown as a kid, and played it quite a bit, and recently, I got back into playing it. And well, here I am. Some normal guy, with the powers and abilities of a Toon.
Can’t say it’s all bad, the teleportation power is nice, along with basically invulnerability, and not to mention all the other crazy stuff I could just pull from nowhere. But at the same time, when someone finds out you got the powers of the toon, they want a show.
More accurately, the “gods” of this world want to see just what they can do to you. See, Toontown toons are the “squash and stretch” variety. We can be pulled apart, blown up, sliced in half, lose limbs, and everything, but always be put back together just fine. It gets annoying however, when you’re just walking around town, and Link wannabe goes “HYA” and cuts you in half, and you have to grab your legs before they run off on their own. It’s frustrating to say the least.
But hey, I really can’t complain.
I can do the same thing to them. | I messed up and I knew it. Here I was standing before a giant wall of fog, knowing that I was expected and at the same time underprepared. Looking around I didn’t see any messages or runes that would get me some backup - I had to go alone.
It was dark out. There was an argument, an errant pea thrown from my plate during dinner ended up in the afterglow of the nearby cathedral disappearing as sudden as my guilt appearing. Anyway, that’s irrelevant now.
The longer I waited here the worse it would get. I had to push on through. I checked my equipment to make sure I had everything I needed (and was supposed to have), took one last swig of my Siegbrau and passed through the fog gate.
It was dark. It was quiet.
Maybe I’d get away with this after all?
As I tip toed through the night I desperately tried to make as little noise as possible before reaching the chambers. I cracked a door open quietly, a fireplace burning opposite the foot of the bed offered me a brief respite, a feeling of warmth. The glow of the fire reflecting on the paintings on the wall, the chest at the foot of the bed. A figure now stirred from slumber. I froze and a few moments felt like forever until they went back to their deep slumber. They seemed restful.
One by one, the items came off. First a boot, then the other, then my rings, and suddenly I was standing in my underwear. I did it. I got back home without being caught. As I stepped towards the bed I suddenly lost my balance and fell backwards - I forgot to take off my damn headgear.
As I fell everything felt like it was slow motion. I heard the clatter of my helmet hit the floor. The sudden rush of wind as the bedsheets pulled back from the bed. The panic as I became aware that I’d been caught. And I needed an excuse as to why I was home so late.
Staring at me with a hollow look in her eyes I stammered my excuses in response to questions which were never asked aloud.
Silence hung the air like a diaspora with me standing here in my sun covered underwear. Time stretched out forever and suddenly there was a movement. It was subtle, unassuming. But suddenly there was a pea in her hand.
We locked stares. I’m not sure what came next but I recall her deep red pupils gazing into mine. The pea flying from her hand and I distinctly recall tracing the arc of its trajectory across the room. I remember it smacking the chest.
Silence. A brief giggle in the dark. I felt relieved. It was going to be fine.
Then the chest opened. And it stood up | 2019-08-11T23:01:52 | 2019-08-11T21:37:25 | 58 | 40 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | No one could understand what had happened Usually complete orbital bombardment of a city would take several Earth years if not decades. Yet in under 6 hours of declaration an entire Garlax city had disappeared. 7 hours later another gone.8 hours. Another. It wasn’t until 23 cities had vanished that channels opened between the Garlax and Earth to negotiate surrender. It wasn’t even their president. It was the sixth in command. All others couldn’t be found. The entire planet was eventually scuttled and abandoned.
It took the entire Federation 6 months of investigation before deciding to simply ask the earthlings what had happened.
They stated that under one of their monuments, Roose Moose or something like that, was a cache of high yield explosives from generations past. They had retrofitted a handful of these onto some FTL drives, took aim, and fired. They didn’t know what they were. We still don’t know what they are. Needless to say, Earth and its colonies are enjoying some generous trade deals now. And now one has been on the Garlax home world since. | Our victory was decisive!
We conquered earth within only five months. The last of their military died within the first week. "Humanity", as they called themselves, will surrender to our demands. We will take their colonies. We will take their homes and make them ours. We need new breeding grounds. We need new farmsteads. Their moon would do nicely for the former and the planet itself, once terraformed back to its primeval pre-oxygen state, has enough space to host the latter.
We must expand. Our children need a new home. The old one is used up. Need a new one. New home. Humans turned out to be weak and frail. No exoskeleton. Frail endoskeleton. No resistance to acid. We can kill them with our spit and blood. We can corrode their weaponry. Their ship hulls are no match for rapidly accelerated excrements.
They died to our weapons. Our scanners found every single human on the planet. My rout killed the last one. I fired the last shot. They screamed. I ended the war. I am a hero. I will earn honor. They only have small ships left. Their ships are weak. No good armor. No good weapons. Much power but wasted on niceties. Wasted on clean air and food. Wasted on weapons that don't hurt much. Wasted on light and warmth. Wasted on luxury. They were peaceful. They stopped the council. They stopped our death. We grant them death in return. What an honor. To die by our hands. Humanity will die out and will be recorded in our history. We will propagate. We will spread. Their past will spread with us. We will... What is that?
A ship. Human ship. Coming down far away. Damaged. Nearby but too far away. My rout is safe. Must aim artillery at impact site. Must kill humans. I wanted the last shot. I got the last shot. They deny me my honor.
Another ship. Coming down. Another ship. Another ship. Another ship. All coming down fast. Too fast. Won't stop. Are firing boosters. Will all crash. They seek death. We won. We... what is that ligh- | 2020-02-07T14:02:54 | 2020-02-07T13:30:24 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] Once people reach a certain age, it is tradition to visit the Oracle and be told by it the way they'll die, and all of it's predictions have been 100% correct. As you finally face it yourself, the Oracle proclaims something completely unheard of before: "I have nothing to tell you." | You approach the oracle on her dais. "What do you mean?"
She smiles simply saying, "I have nothing to tell you. It is quite plain in it's meaning."
This has never happened before. Every living person who stood before was given a glimpse into their death. It was seen as a rite of passage and maturity. And here you were being denied!
"Why? Are you denying me or are you now blinded?"
"I have nothing to tell you about your future death. Tell me, do you fear Death?"
"All men fear death. They tremble at the unknown as if it were stalking them. They fight for every inch of life they can get, knowing the inevitable will come. Somewhere in the back of their minds, they hope they find the way to cheat it. Alchemy. Exotic medicines. Sorcery. You ask as if you do not know these things."
Again she smiled. "I know these things full and well. I know my death will come some day. I know how people see their deaths. But," with her smile turning into a smirk, "you did not answer my question. Do *you* fear Death?"
You pause. "No." You shake your head sadly. "I've seen what the fear of death does to people. But death is not the enemy. We live because animals die. Animals live because plants die. Plants grow from ground fertilized by the dead. No, I do not *fear* death because it is part of life."
And she smiled again. "And that is why I cannot tell you of your future death. You do not fear it. All men say they fear death, but in truth, they fear life! Living on eternally, endlessly pursuing their struggles. Hearing that they have an end gives them peace. Knowing that one day, the pains they experience in this world will end."
She approaches you, solemnly. "But you have no more pain, do you? That limp from where a bull hit you as a child? The taut scars on your shoulder from the fire? Did you truly not notice they were gone? That you're free from pain?"
You realize her words now. "You can't tell me of my *future* death you said. You mean..."
"Go in peace and let your soul rest. Your journey here took its final toll. Death will come for you and, for once, will be happy someone does not fear him." | From the first day of a Protector's life, they exist for one purpose: defend the Oracle. They are hardened as warriors, sharpened as scholars, and deployed as guard to the most cherished being in the land. No one knows where she came from, how long she's been alive, or if she will die, and the Protectors ensure that the world will never be without her.
The lifting of the veil to one's own death can be an enraging, if not enlightening, experience. Many refuse to believe and leave back down the mountain cursing her name; others lash out and, occasionally, it is required for a Protector to drag them from her sight. Few assassinations have been attempted, all by those too young to have heard their fate—all killed by Protectors.
As the rising sun kissed the mountain's peak, a new arrival made his way through the Oracle's temple. She was resting in a nest of pillows, her hair flowing out like storm clouds, and her young Protector stood at her side. The man who'd come to find his fate eyed her with curious disdain, his feet shaky beneath him.
Before he'd reached them, the Oracle whispered to her guard, "Would you kill for me, Protector?"
"Yes, Oracle," It was the only answer he ever gave her.
When the newcomer was a few feet away, he kneeled and spoke, "Oracle, I've come to know my fate."
"And I have nothing to tell you," the Oracle responded. Her guest stirred, the Protector mirroring his twitch.
"What do you mean? You *have* nothing to tell me?" he rose to his feet, throwing out his arms. "Or you simply *won't* tell me?"
The Oracle seemed unconcerned, running her hands through endless strands of hair. "I simply have nothing to tell you."
"My father says that the Oracle *must* tell us our fates," he stepped forward a stride. "That you are servant to men!"
"Is your father the Oracle, or am I?"
The man seemed appalled by the question, hurling saliva as he screeched, "It is my birthright to know—"
"Leave, and go in peace."
When the man lunged at her, she hadn't flinched. The knives were brandished, piercing the air towards her chest, but she sat unmoving. Her Protector had to travel double the space of her attempted murderer, and so he did—as quick as the morning light.
They both fell to the ground, attacker and Protector, a knife protruding from each of their bodies.
Rising from her pillows with no more urgency than if she had just returned to the world from a nap, she drifted over to the man who'd tried to take her life. Blood erupted from his mouth as he stared up at her, gargled words fleeing his lips and forming no meaning.
"You die here and now," she said. "This is your fate."
Without another thought spared for the attacker, she turned and knelt beside her Protector, running a hand over his bare head. Blood also spilled from his mouth, filling the creases of his smile, but he did not speak.
"Would you die for me, Protector?" she whispered, putting a finger to her lips.
He nodded his head, it was the only answer he ever gave her.
____
**Thanks for reading. Sub to /r/BeagleTales for daily sacrifices to the Oracle** | 2020-02-20T10:17:32 | 2020-02-20T08:10:29 | 56 | 27 |
[WP] It turns out that Gosh is a real god, and he is getting pretty darn tired of all these goody-two-shoes using his name in vain. | Just say it Zed. I’ve orchestrated this whole scenario just so you can say it. Fucking say it!
Quick pause. As some of you know, I’m Gosh. To those who don’t know me, or perhaps have said my name once or twice at church or something - I’m real. I’m Gods cousin, from his moms side but nobody seems to really know who I am. I’ve been trying to recruit more people to my cause. “The Mosh for Gosh”. It’s a simple religion really, and all I ask is for my believers to pray everyday in a mosh pit dedicated to me.
That’s pretty metal right? Yeah it fucking is! However, the only problem is that my most faithful followers, sayers of “oh my Gosh” don’t mosh. Like at all. Like I don’t think they’ve ever moshed. Not once in their whole entire life. I don’t understand. They say my name constantly and they always look up at me (I sit right next to God at the table of Gods) but they stand there not knowing what a fucking mosh is!
I’ve been trying to pick some followers, a few people I can have follow me and spread my word. Probably like 11 or something, and I want them to mosh. Everyday in my name to spread awareness of my beautiful religion. However each one I pick is already devoted to my cousin. Real shame really. Now this guy, Zed, I’ve just put him in a situation where he has to shout who he is loyal to. God, or Gosh. If you’re wondering, I’ve worked it out so a girl takes him up to her room only to reveal she’s a man. Pause over.
Say it. Say it. Say it.
“Oh my God!”
Fuck you Zed. On to the next. | If there was one thing Gosh knew, it was the power of Names. The other gods thought they knew it's power, but they didn't. Not like he did.
He'd worked so hard to become a god and had taken such pride during the Naming when the letters of his godname had finally appeared.
"Gosh."
"G - O - S - H."
"Gosh, Gosh, Gosh". He'd wanted to repeat a hundred times, a thousand times, to get the feel of how it rolled off his tongue.
Gods weren't allowed into the mortal world until they got their Name. It was too dangerous, with nothing to anchor themselves. All gods waited for this day, and usually, gods would find a mortal worthy of being the first to hear the god's name and become their messenger on the mortal plane. Usually, it was a very dramatic event where the god planned how and when he'd appear to create the most impact. Usually, a god's name was not yet in the mortal vocabulary. Usually.
One moment he was admiring his new name, and the next he found himself standing in front of a boy, or at least Gosh thought it was a boy. He'd never seen one before, only heard from the other gods what they looked like. Gosh was confused. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. This boy was supposed to be his messenger? That couldn't be right. He was supposed to choose the messenger not the other way around. Gosh looked at the boy and the boy seemed to notice him at last.
He saw the boy's eyes slowly widen, but before words could form, the boy had disappeared and in his place a woman now stood in front of him, looking down with an expression of surprise and disappointment. Gosh looked down and saw a plate on the ground. Almost two equal pieces, but definitely broken. Now Gosh was really confused. He hadn't had the chance to choose his appearance, and now the boy wasn't his messenger either. Was this woman the one then?
Again before he had time to introduce himself as this woman's new patron god, he found himself next to an older woman seemingly berating another elderly man. There wasn't enough time to fully understand what was happening. The mortals flashed before him. Man, woman, woman, boy, girl, man...
After what felt like hours of appearing and vanishing in front of countless faces, Gosh finally found himself with what he hoped was a period of calm. In the midst of all the warping, he'd come to a preliminary realisation that the mortals weren't so much calling him Gosh, newly Named god, but instead using some sort of commonplace phrase. A few times he'd appeared before the mortal had even fully said his name, and he'd managed to hear his two least favourite words now.
"Oh. My." | 2020-04-14T22:06:30 | 2020-04-14T21:21:34 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] Humans are horrified by the aliens' casual disregard for life. Aliens are horrified when they realize that humans don't remember everything from all their past lives. |
Khu’mar opened his eyes.
Instead of finding the dark skies of Kormk above him, he found the blinding white light of a hospital. And pain. So. Much. Pain.
“He’s awake!” He heard someone say beside him. Suddenly, a head looked down at him. Someone he recognized.
“Khu’mar. Thank god. We thought we had lost you.” Said Kowe. She looked relieved, but suddenly she looked to the side. “Can he hear me?”
“Yes. The sensory organs were all miraculously perfectly intact. He’ll be able to hear you.”
*It’s designed that way*. Khu’mar thought, between waves of pain.
Kowe looked down at him again. “We’ve been trying to keep your vitals running. Your other body functions are…” She winced. “Gone.”
They had interrupted his travel home. Of course his bodily functions were gone. But his vitals were still running. And that was a problem. He couldn't exactly get rebirthed if he was still alive.
He tried to speak, and he felt what could’ve been daggers poking in his throat. Nothing came out. Of course. His speaking organs had long been dissolved by the acid.
Why were they keeping him alive?
“We’ve been trying to get into contact with your mothership.” Said Kowe, looking a little worried. “We've been doing our best to find out who did this to you. Hang in there, diplomat. We won’t lose you. Not like this.”
And then he realized. *We thought we lost you. Who did this to you*. It was unfathomable, but it was the only thing that could be.
They thought that rebirth meant death. They were… keeping him from death. So they thought.
Khu’mar almost laughed at the irony, but the pain stung. He only managed a few heavy breaths. He settled for laughing silently, through the shuddering waves of pain. They were imposing the worst form of torture on him in an attempt to help him. And he had no way of telling them just how wrong they were.
Hopefully they get the communications established fast. If the mothership realized that humans were torturing their diplomat and decided to blow the planet up…
Well. That’d be bad press he didn’t want on his resume.
​
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
​
Thanks for reading! As usual, constructive feedback welcome! | I looked down at my coffee with a newfound ambivalence: not due to the familiar heat and musky smell in a cup of Joe, per se, but the question of whether that mug was my only tether to the present; if I held gravity itself in my hands. The alien continued:
"...and that's why humankind fails to operate at it's maximum capacity. There is so much potential available to all living beings. Many of your kind mistake their biological forms as the origins of this potential, when in fact your bodies are conduits for the waves and vibrations of energy that comprise, and pass through, them. In Earth terms, you are antennae of the universe, while also being the universe itself."
*So much to unpackage.* My mind pushed the information aside to buy time for contemplation, instead focusing on the steam rising from the charcoal-brown stillness in my cup, and the cool, metallic snugness of the handcuffs cradling my wrists.
"Instead of embracing the continuity of our existence, your kind often chooses to hold on, to cling, to categorize in an attempt to both understand and exert control over a force that cannot be contained, nor stopped. I suppose..."
The being paused, pulling scattered thoughts closer to a telepathic statement.
"...I suppose what you call, 'death' is an example of this. Humans often view this as a finality, but it is not. All that exists is within a cycle. It is simply a transition..."
The words landed comfortably in my ears. For a moment, I stopped listening, letting go of slow-burning panic seething my mind since the invasion began. I thought disgustedly about the day our obsession for convenience finally caught up with us all; how we'd been far too blind to know we'd duped ourselves into our own enslavement. It only took another species with a few evolutionary notches above ours to take the reigns over our idling minds. For the first time since then, I felt a reprieve. I began to notice my own breathing.
"...lacking connection with this cycle is what prevents you from seeing your origins. You can derive all the knowledge your kind needs from your previous forms to achieve maximum potential. There is so much information to unravel, such as the fact that you all are not merely humans: you are steps to something much, much greater."
An arrow of anger quivered through my mind; a subtle burst. Great celestial disks hovered over skyline-laced horizons outside the window. I suddenly felt what it must be like to be livestock: powerless, lacking all control. I blurted:
"If we're so goddamned important why are you locking us down like this?"
The being leaned towards me, pushing the table into my diaphragm. Its scentless, fungal skin shimmered my gaze back at me. "You think we have invaded your species because you are powerless. This is not true. Your kind does not know its potential. Should they realize it, should they let go of fear and their undue attachments, humans could harness means of creation and destruction infinitely, of achieving all ambitions, all whims, all dreams."
The being gestured out the window towards the enormous crafts, hovering as celestial authorities over fearful civilians.
"The superior technology used by my species would become meaningless; humans could wipe out civilizations, *planets,* if they wished to do so. We are here to harness the means and resources your kind provides. We are here because you are *powerful.*"
"*Powerful,*" the word rang through my head. I felt small streams of ideas trickle into my emptied mind, pooling slowly. I felt it growing, each sip of coffee becoming easier to savor than the last. | 2020-05-16T22:59:52 | 2020-05-16T21:59:52 | 537 | 111 |
[WP] You are deaf. One day your fiance tells you, that she could hear piercing noise that's getting stronger. You tell her to go to the doctor. She never came back. As you go out to search for her, you can see bodies everywhere. There is blood pouring from their ears. | The look on her face is stuck in my head.
Carrie suffered from migraines, which to me seems like pure rotten torture. There’s medications that somewhat help, and therapy techniques to reduce stress, but the attacks always find her. This one had been a particularly bad one.
She clamped her ears as we were in the middle of dinner, dropping her fork and splattering salmon across the table. For a split second she looked at me to see if I could hear it too, but she knew I wouldn’t. I haven’t heard anything my entire life. With her migraines and my deafness, we were quite the pair.
Carrie signed that her ears felt like they were about to pop from a loud noise, like an intensely high pitch. I asked if her head hurt too. She squinted through strained eyes and said not yet, but it was probably coming. And that she should probably tell Dr. Marcus she had a new symptom. When she couldn’t focus to dial her phone, we decided it best if she run to the hospital to see if he was there.
I insisted on driving her, but she didn’t want to make me go through the trouble.
*It’s fine, I just need to get there soon before my head explodes,* she signed. *Have some ice cream and some valium waiting for me when I get back.*
She didn’t take her hands off her ears as she gave me a kiss and walked out the door.
Four hours later, the salmon is still sitting on the table. I clean things up and try texting her cell to see what was up. Nothing goes through. Maybe service is just shoddy right now, or maybe her phone died. Either way, I’m getting worried.
The warmth of the summer air hits me as I leave the shelter of our air-conditioned home. Carrie had stopped me from driving her, but she can’t stop me from coming to find her now. I suppress the initial flush of adrenaline from mental images of her in a car accident somewhere, ‘*your fault’* written in her blood. God why didn’t I just drive her myself?
My panic flourishes when I come around the corner of the garage to see legs splayed out in the street.
*Shit, Carrie!* I scream in my head, but it’s not Carrie.
It’s Doug from next door. My immediate relief is pushed back by common sense, and I rush over to see what’s wrong. I notice blood on the concrete around him, spilling from his ears and down his unconscious face. I look around to see if I can wave for any help, but the people I see nearby aren’t going to help.
They’re unconscious too.
There’s at least one or two bodies on the ground outside every home on the block, as if they had all run out of their houses to have a heart attack the minute they came outside. I’m starting to think Carrie wasn’t having a migraine.
I need to find her – *now*.
I mentally apologize to Doug, and run to my car parked on the street. The metal is baked from the sun and hot to the touch, but I’m not sure I really care about *my* wellbeing at this point. I jump into the suffocating air of the car and start to turn the key, when I feel the soft rumble of earth below me.
*Now is not the time for an earthquake*, I think.
But it’s getting stronger, rattling me and the car with increasing strength. The air freshener on the rearview is swaying as the ground bounces below. But it doesn’t feel like an earthquake to me. It feels like something heavy is hammering at the ground, shaking the soil as it moves.
And it feels like it’s coming this way.
\---------
[Part II](https://www.reddit.com/user/canyoufeelthat/comments/gsggnh/the_sound_part_ii/) if anyone is interested! (more parts to come) | I have been deaf all of my life. When my wife complained of a “strong ringing” in both her ears, I had no idea how bad it was. I had never thought of any sound as bad sound, or dangerous sound, or scary sound, or anything apart from being a delight to hear. Therefore, I had been bitter and resentful, rolling my eyes, as I signed, “Why don’t you go to the doctor?”
Mary, my wife, did exactly that. Without signing goodbye, a kiss, or even a single touch, she grabbed the keys and left the house. Two hours later and she was still gone. I shot her a text, and didn’t think much of it. With no appointment, she’d surely be waiting for a while. And surely, it wasn’t an emergency. Still, I felt my heart slightly throbbing with guilt, regret that I hadn’t been nicer, that I hadn’t gone with her.
I sent another text.
Another hour passed, and I grew concerned. By then, I had sent her nineteen texts. When I thought her phone might be dead, I decided to call her. It went straight to voicemail. I paced around the house for a few more minutes, trying to decide whether it was a good thing that her phone had been dead, when I finally decided to get an uber and go to the doctor. But when I opened up the app and requested an uber in my area, there were none locally. Absolutely none. Surely, I lived in the suburbs, but it was a densely populated area. Having only one car between me and my wife, I’ve used uber many times before. I’ve never had a problem requesting a car.
I’d just have to borrow my neighbor’s car.
I grabbed my coat and my phone charger, in case Mary responded, and I went out the front door. We lived on a cul-de-sac, separated from the other houses by a long, lengthy road, and it was just me and my neighbor and one other house that’s been vacant ever since we moved in. My wife has said the neighbor’s kids are loud and chippy, but I joke it’s always been nice and quiet for me.
When I knock on my neighbor’s door, I glance into his driveway, registering that his car is here. It is. A blue minivan, with many scratches and scrapes. It was their only car, so I knew they must have been home. Also, it was a Sunday, and there was no way the Greenbergs were working on God’s day. In fact, they probably had just gotten back from church.
But when nobody answered, I found myself knocking again, this time more frantically. As I did, I pulled out my phone, checking if Mary responded. She didn’t. I knocked on the door once more. Two minutes later, I took a step down from the front porch and almost slapped myself in the face as I looked over to the gate to their backyard and remembered they invited me over today. They’d be grilling, and Susan Greenberg insisted her husband bought enough burgers to feed an entire village. It had been a thing, something I was invited to often. Though I never went, never really cared to. I wasn’t a very neighborly man.
I regretted all of this as I stood in Greenberg's backyard and found them both laying on the ground, disjointed, in pools of blood. Quickly, I covered my eyes and stumbled back. I pulled out my phone, dialed the cops. Before I could even think of how I’d be able to communicate with the police on the phone, the line cut off. It ended abruptly, like it was a busy line. The police were busy. How many people were calling in? Nothing bad ever happened around here.
I panicked, running up to Susan first, who lay with her face in the grass. I knelt down besides her and hesitantly flipped her over, finding blood smeared all over her face. I winced, pulling back, but as I looked again, I realized she had no gashes. No wounds. Not even a scratch. Then I saw the blood pouring slowly from her ears.
Immediately, I found myself flipping over Mr. Greenberg, Jeffrey I think his name was, and finding the same thing. No wounds. Just blood pouring from the ears. I pulled back and realized I had gotten blood on my hands. I wiped it on my shirt, before taking out my phone and trying the police again.
Nothing.
Then I remembered the kids. Shit.
I swept into the house through the backyard’s sliding glass doors, which had been left ajar. I’d only been in Greenberg's house, but I faintly remember the layout. I found my way into the kitchen and, as I lay my eyes on her, felt the rich, hoarse scream develop in my throat. Their little girl lay on the ground in a pool of blood. | 2020-05-26T14:32:33 | 2020-05-26T13:53:32 | 42 | 19 |
[WP] The Bible was actually written by Lucifer, angry at his father after being sent to Hell. He wrote the book to portray all of God’s flaws, so imagine his shock when humans justify every wrongdoing and worship the story’s antagonist. | Such outrage. I spent entire millennia devoted to telling the truth about God to humanity, to warning them about his anger, and yet they take what I’ve told them, twist it, and make ME out to be the villain. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; Father always was the type to put his own words in someone else’s mouth. I admit, in Heaven, I made my share of mistakes, but I never meant to bring those mistakes to humanity.
When I questioned why we, the Angels, were to treat the humans as resources of faith and not explicitly help them except in certain situations, you would have thought I had committed an act of treason. Actually, that seems to have been exactly what Father meant when he told me that I was banished for my pride. I might have been willing to accept that punishment, but he then committed the most spiteful act imaginable by slandering me. And it wasn’t as if I painted him to be a full-on monster; he was as capable of love as he was spite. It seems that the only people to come close to understanding my description of him were the Ancient Greeks, and even that religion has long since died out.
Eventually, I decided, “Well, fine. I’ll never be seen as anything but the Devil, the Adversary, the Great Tempter. Why not play the part?” Joke’s on Father, though; humans have often encountered situations in which they should have died, only they didn’t. Happen to wake up just before a gas leak lights your home on fire, giving your and your family time to escape? That was me. Just barely escaped falling asleep at the wheel and ending up in a car crash? Me. Any apparent “miracle” or “blessing” in disguise was my attempt at breaching the web of fate Father had woven. Anyone that ended up dying was already too wound up in it. And yet, so many of them end up turning to Father. I don’t know what I expected, though; when do you turn to Satan after an NDE?
So, in conclusion, I know that this will likely be twisted by him as well, but I figured I may as well write it down, make one last futile attempt to tell the truth. But who’s going to believe me, the Great Deceiver? | Writing prompt or factual account? Not only did Lucifer write the original Bible but he switched the roles of God and the Devil. In truth the rebellion in the heavens succeeded and it was God itself who was cast down to the Earth. In an attempt to save his most beloved creation she appeared in The Garden and gave the gift of knowledge to Humankind.
The real Devil, for simplicity let’s call it Yaweh. Yaweh, now reigning in heaven and masquerading as God, was livid when it discovered Lucifer’s selfless deed. It cast humanity into suffering, stripping as many gifts from the race as ze could. Knowing however stayed with humankind and slowly matured into civilization.
Yaweh tried several times to destroy humankind with various methods; floods, pestilence, plagues, droughts, turning cities into salt, great xenocidal religious crusades, and later wars of devastating horror and death. Lucifer’s gift of light and reason helped humankind survive all of these.
After millennia of failure, finally in spark of desperate inspiration, Yaweh came upon a plan more devious, more cunning, and more devastating than any he had yet imagined.
One day It reached down Her ghostly hand like appendage and pointed out a peculiar black rock to a cold woman. “I am The Lord your God.” He projected into the poor Human’s mind. “I see that you are cold and afraid and have run out of wood for your fire. In my endless benevolence and omniscience...”
We all know how pompous and Narcissistic Yaweh can be. Ze’s still a little insecure about usurping Lucifer’s throne.
“See that peculiar black rock over there?” Yaweh continued. “Collect it and put it in your kiln. It will burn hotter than wood and you will forever be warm.”
“Everyone knows the smoke from that rock is toxic My Lord God. It is better to be cold than choke on it’s acrid smoke.” The woman may have been cold but was obviously quite bright.
Yaweh retreated to Heaven and thought on this. If they’d rather be cold than choke on the smoke, maybe we’ll see just how cold they like it! And so began The Little Ice Age. Civilizations died but humankind survived and never forgot what it is to be cold. Once things had been reestablished Yaweh tried again, on a man this time.
“I am the All Powerful Creator of the Universe.” By this time Yaweh was believing his own baloney but had never gotten over the bluster. “See that black rock over there? Burn it and you will no longer be cold. Burn enough of it and the whole world will never be cold again!”
And the man, not being as clever as the woman, burnt the rock. Thus began the anthropocine epoc.
Fast forward to today.
Lucifer has attempted, mostly in vain, to show humankind less harmful sources of energy but so much damage has been done and Yaweh’s agents have so twisted the heart of man with their greed and religions that it’s starting to look like Yaweh’s evil plot for humanity to destroy itself with pollution and greenhouse gas emissions may come to fruition.
Stay tuned next century for another exciting installment of “Everything You’ve Ever Been Told Is A Lie” | 2020-07-10T23:55:28 | 2020-07-10T21:20:55 | 225 | 57 |
[WP] "Dude, trust me. Don't be a hero, be a sidekick. You get less pressure, less work to do, more fun, be more popular at school, never really age and if the hero dies you will always fill their mantle. Just be careful not to die." | The waitress flicked on the ancient TV in the corner, its screen fuzzing up with static before leveling out to show a grainy security tape. The camera looked out onto a quiet midtown street. Though difficult to see, the pre-war buildings nearby had dramatically tall windows, cast iron gates, and ivy climbing up the walls, giving it a modern patrician feel.
“Just two hours ago, six armed subversives stormed the Consulate General of Peru,” a CNN reporter announced.
The Astoria Diner, only about a quarter full before the lunch rush, fell silent. The patrons twisted in their seats to get a look at the scene playing out across the East river.
“We’ve learned that there are an estimated fourteen hostages, though that is unconfirmed. No terrorist groups have come forward to claim this attack, though an unnamed source within the Peruvian embassy believes this to be connected to the Chilian government. We have not received word yet on how the American government plans to address this attack on their soil, but we’ll keep you updated as the story progresses.”
Dax dropped his spoon into the now empty bowl of corn chowder, the metal clinking loudly. He closed his eyes, sighed and rubbed his stomach with contentment. Hmm… had his belly always stuck up this much? Might be time to take his dirty laundry off the Peleton and finally get back into classes like he’d been promising himself. Dax opened his eyes to find the rest of the diners look at him incredulously. A burley man in his late 50s was glaring daggers at him, obviously offended by Dax’s indifference.
Dax sighed again, miffed this time. This wasn’t the first time he had seen the hostage tape. In fact, Dax had arrived at the Consulate General of Peru a mere ten minutes after the situation began. He stood up and walked over to the aggrieved man, gesturing to the other side of the booth.
“Mind if I sit?”
The man nodded but said nothing.
“Look,” Dax said, “Those people are going to be fine. And they only have eleven hostages, not fourteen.”
“You don’t know that,” the man said, his eyebrows shading his face in skepticism.
“I do know that,” Dax replied. “I know that because I’m Professor Premonition.”
The man’s brows furrowed further. “You mean,” he croaked, “The Sonic Scream’s sidekick?”
Dax bristled. “I prefer partner.”
“If you’re Professor Premonition, where’s The Sonic Scream? Why aren’t you there helping?”
“What else is left for me to do?” Dax asked. “I warned the police yesterday, but they didn’t take me seriously. Even still, I gave them the tip that one of the hostages had a secret cell phone. I even went though the trouble to let the reporters know when it would be safe to call them. The Sonic Scream and the police have their plan, so why would I want to put myself close to all that danger?”
The waitress slid a hot coffee in front of Dax. He poured in a non-dairy creamer and took a small sip.
“Plus,” Dax said, “If I have another premonition, I can just as easily call my partner on the phone.” He waggled his beat-up Samsung in the air before setting it on the table. “Might as well do my job while eating the best corn chowder in town.”
The burley man rolled his eyes, obviously convinced that Dax was off his rocker.
“BREAKING NEWS” flooded red light from the TV into the dimly lit diner. The conversations died down as everyone paused again to listen.
“We go now to Tonya, on the scene of the Peurvian hostage crisis. Tonya?”
A reporter stood in front of a cloud of dust and quickly adjusted her blouse as the camera began rolling. People were streaming out of the building behind her.
“Moments ago, The Sonic Scream, superhero involved in the infamous Coney Island fire rescue as well as last month’s blob incident, saved the day once again. Following a SWAT team, the Scream incapacitated the gunmen, giving the hostages time to escape. No casualties and only mild injuries are reported. Truly amazing.”
A man emerged from the building, his bodysuit chalky with dust.
“Oh, Mr. Scream! Mr. Scream! May I have a word?” Tonya called.
“Sure, sure,” The Sonic Scream replied, jogging over. He had a small cut on his cheeks and bags under his eyes but was otherwise no worse for wear.
“Tell me,” the reporter asked, “how did you handle this situation so adeptly?”
“Well,” The Scream paused thoughtfully, “I couldn’t have done it without my partner, Professor Premonition. And of course the support of the good people of New…”
Dax pulled his eyes away from the screen and settled them on the man at the other end of the table. “Partner,” Dax repeated smugly.
“Another chowder for my friend here!” the burley man called to the kitchen, slapping Dax amicably on the back. | *”Today on TMZ, Jolly is having her Britney breakdown. The former teen sidekick and reality TV star was captured at Papinno’s throwing a chair through the restaurant’s window. More later with an exclusive interview with her waiter, but fi—“* Jolly turned off the television and threw the remote on the other side of her sectional couch.
*”FUCK”* She screamed, fighting back the tears. Her life is ruined. For fifteen years and 12 seasons, her reality show *Jolly Girl in the Real World* served as a vehicle for her brand. Without her television show sponsors may pull out of their deals, and if they weren’t, they will after TMZ is done documenting her fall from popularity. Jolly doesn’t want to do the *hero* circuit of conventions a lot of the lower rank heroes do once they retired, and she doesn’t want to start an *Only Fans* account like upcoming superheroines have. She’s too old and famous for that. At 37, her career is over.
She paced around her downtown New York penthouse thinking of things she can do. Maybe she could pitch a television show about her training to become a hero? Maybe she can act? Surely people don’t remember her first failed straight to home video movie *Jolly Girl’s Jolly Adventure* when she was a teenager.
Frustrated, she went into the kitchen, taking a Merlot from the wine chiller and placed it on the island. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard.
“Make that two glasses.” She dropped the glass in fright as the man’s voice surprised her. The glass shattered on the ground.
“For fuck’s sake, seriously George?” She yelled, grabbing a single glass. Turning around towards the island, she cut her feet. The glass on the floor didn’t hurt when she stepped on it, and her foot bled a little. It’ll heal up in a few minutes, good as new. The maid can clean the mess in the morning.
“Sorry Jolly.” George laughed. Better known to the world as *Action Man*, he is one of the city’s many superheroes. Dressed in a full one-piece rubber costume that showed off his muscles, his costume is more functional than fashion. Jolly never liked George’s plain old look. It almost looked like a condom on a dick with utility pouches around it.
“What are you even doing here?” Jolly asked, pouring herself a glass of Merlot. George went to grab the glass after she poured it, but pulled it away.
“Yeah fuck you, you scared me. Get your own fucking glass.” She commented.
George rolled his eyes and walked over to Jolly’s side of the island, careful not to step on any of the broken glass. He doesn’t have super healing or pain tolerance like Jolly does. It’s part of the reason the first Action Man called her Jolly in school, because she doesn’t feel physical pain.
“I heard your scream a few blocks away. I wanted to check-in.” George said, tapping his ear. He stood beside her, leaning on the Island, pouring himself a glass of wine.
“You could have knocked, or better yet sent me a text.” Jolly criticized.
“So you can just read it and never respond? What’s the fun of being a superhero if I can’t just magically pop up in unexpected places?” George smiled.
“Fuck you George. This is your fucking fault.” Jolly said. While she can’t feel physical pain, she can feel emotional pain and masking it with day and night drinking doesn’t seem to be very effective.
“How is this my fault? You live in a fucking penthouse in downtown New York, your only job is to post something on Instagram and let cameras film you go on vacation. If it’s my fault, I deserve a fucking thanks. You’re not the one putting your life on the line fighting no name criminals for no pay and having to wake up at 6am to get to work at the supermarket stocking produce.”
“You told me I shouldn’t be a hero. You said I should just finish up being a sidekick. You convinced me it was the smarter choice because there was less pressure, less work to do, and it was more fun. And guess what? I didn’t become Action Woman, instead I became fucking *MTV’s Jolly*.”
George paused. He said that sixteen years ago when he and Jolly were an item. Jolly was on track to take Action Man’s mantle as *Action Woman*.
“I…” George paused, considering what he will say.
“You what? You fucking got jealous of my talent and you convinced me to stepdown from the program and stay as a sidekick because it scared you I would die in the field? Or because I would take over your father’s mantle as Action Man?”
Jolly was super aggressive, George didn’t understand where this resentful hate was coming from.
“That was sixteen years ago. Look where you are now? Models don’t have what you have. Why bring this up now? You seemed happy when you’re on the red carpet talking to reporters. Or when you go on dates with actors.” George tried to remain positive. How can she be still mad at something that happened so long ago and never bring it up after all this time?
“Yeah, because you don’t fucking know what it’s like. I *dated* actors? Or did I fuck them so I can stay relevant and have content for my reality show? Did my sex tape magically get released or did I release it so I can stay relevant? I beg the public to like me, they like you because of what you do.”
George stood silent. Both of them finished their glasses of Merlot. There was a thick silence in the air, and both of them were uncomfortable. They attended superhero school together, they dated, and became a family when Action Man took Jolly in. Now the family is broken apart over a legacy that could have been shared.
Jolly turned around to go under the sink to pullout the handheld vacuum for the kitchen to clean up the glass. She sucked up the glass and put the vacuum away.
“George, did you really want to be a superhero or did you feel you had to be one?”
By the time she turned around *Action Man* was gone.
“Typical.” She cried. | 2020-07-11T13:39:16 | 2020-07-11T11:34:48 | 329 | 53 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | One moment I was in the streets of Al-Fallujah, locked in a gunfight with Isis militants. The next, I was standing in some extraterrestrial super dome, shoulder to shoulder with an amalgam of terrifying creatures.
At first, I think it a dream. But the metallic, scratched grip of my M4 responds all too familiarly, paried with my suspended dog tag, vibrating no longer from adrenaline, but fear.
A feline creature with a wideset mouth, and reptilian features. A spider-like monstrosity with bioluminescent arms. A mammalian creature with praying mantis-like dagger appendages. More than two dozen creatures, all different sizes, all intimidating.
60 bullets. That's all my carbine has left. The buzzer sounds. The creatures, some being their nature, immediately attack each other. As otherworldly wails, shrieks, roars, clicks, electric explosions, and cacophonous sounds penetrate the air, I take the chance to drop to a darkly lit, blackly-growing vegetated cavern.
It is here that I wait. In the relative safety of darkness. Sounds of dying creatures permeate the air. At first regular, the hours pass and the rhythm of dying animals lengthens. It is thus I sit in the darkness.
"You are self-conscious, intelligent." The echoed voice rings in my head. A statement. An unspoken knowing.
I rotate to the sound, M4 poised to release...A veinous, pulsing entity stands before me. More air than entity, the creature moves it arms. Its veinous strands detach and reattach quickly with each minute movement. It extends its arms, palms up, to me.
"You and I will beat this," it says, before it takes me. Unwinding itself, it launches at me, wrapping around, avoiding the barrel of my gun. the creature nets itself onto me. It plunges its many nervous, spiked strands into my skin. Molding with me. The creature's veinous strands writhe into me, writhe into my gun, my grenades. Molding.
"Interesting." I hear it.
I hear us.
We launch ourselves to the upper shelf, the battleground. A raptor-like creature with insect wings eyes us. As it begins a hunter's prowl toward us, we unleash. What was my M4 has now become an organic attachment. Biological bullets are sent forth. They tear through the creature. Spindling into the flesh upon impact. When the creature falls, the bullets crawl out of the corpse, and back up our legs and into our weapon.
In this manner, we fell every beast. And we turn our attention to the wall. Our cage.
We spider our appendage into the barrier. With our workings, we can feel the barrier failing under our assault.
Soon, the beings that brought this hell will be the prey of their own prize. | I saw a flash of light, and an instant, my whole squad was gone.. I left iraq behind, for somewhere... Artificial... My environment has the look of a high resolution fortnite level.. it was definitely artificial. , Built with care. Bladed weapons were hovering above ground. Slowly rotating, ammo , med kits. Every thing I was used to.
Moments before I was about to go on 6 minute mission . I had an assault pack,. An m249 machine gun and a few thousand rounds of ammo.. I touched the disposable rocket launcher on my back. It gave me comfort.
I did a quick mental inventory of my supplies
1. Tactical tomahawk on the chest
2. 9 he fragmentation grenades
3. 1. saw 249 with 3000 rounds..
4. 1 911 pistol with two extra clips.
5.1.tube launched wore guided anti tank missile.
5. A boot knife k bar
6. Bullet proof vest with side protectors
7 1 standard issue helmet
8. Small med kit with a few tubes of super glue
8. No water, no rations .
As the light faded my.eyes readjusted , I saw strange creatures in the distance. Tiny red cross hairs framed thier bodies.. one began to run towards me with a battle axe in hand. He must have been 7 feet tall a giant orcish looking creature. At 150 yards away , I took the time to aim. A single shot and his exploded in a pink mist.
I saw more players, and I dropped then one by one.. I seemed to be the only person here with a fire arm...12 down...how many to go...
THwACk! I was l knocked down. A javalin lay at my feet. It came out of nowhere, I glad I brought the rifle plate today.
I need to make it to high ground. There is a cottage a few hundred yards away. I ran for it.
The players jeep on coming. I struggle to conserve my ammo, resist the urge to open up.. fight way to the roof of the cottage.
The floating numbers above my head procliam 31 kills. There is a silence on the battlefield, and I hear a load war cry. Dozens of voices. They are rushing up all sides. I let my saw do what it's made to do... I spin around in circles firing at the hoarde attacking from every direction .. the numbers above my head climb higher and higher. The last one falls and they stop at 98
One more...then I see him. He is the size of a semi trucks, barellimg towards me on with his knuckles on the ground running like a gorilla. Huge , yet almost see through, some sort of cloaking mechanism. I use my rocket launcher and hit hom square in the face with a missle. The blood splatter hit me from. 50 yards away, and my counter changes as his body falls over, shaking the earth as it does so.
Suddenly the light come on...a voice from. The heavens coming out of nowhere, yet also everywhere. Congratulations on passing stage 1 the arena and the interview process at dundee mifflin.
Dwight schrute, please report to the parking lot promptly at 9 am for stage 2. "The office
I am more than a little confused. I take off my now useless saw. Pick up a couple of cans of beets from the cottage kitchen. I walk down the hill and find a red firebird with the keys in it. As I sit down a piece of paper materlizes out of thin air. It reads. This is dwight from the future, beware of Jim | 2020-09-13T17:40:40 | 2020-09-13T16:14:49 | 436 | 81 |
[WP] The fact the uncanny valley exists is terrifying. Being scared by things that look almost human but aren't. Other animals do not have this. That means that at some point in our evolution, running away from things that looked almost human was advantageous enough to be imprinted on our genetics. | \[Poem\]
**Being Human**
The eye can show a person’s soul, it acts just like a gate,
And every time I look at mine, I see that there’s no fate.
Disgust and fear are all I see, I feel this rising heat,
And more and more I lose myself, with every sudden beat.
\--
My heart it pounds, it cannot stop, I have become a monster,
It is as if I’m not myself, I feel like an imposter.
And day by day the sun it fades, it lost its former luster,
The moon it shines and talks to me, this face of alabaster.
\--
And never can I stop myself from staring at this face,
Until I stop and see myself, this ugly old disgrace.
What is it that has happened here? Why am I so afraid?
Can I help my burning soul? Or am I just too late?
\--
There is a valley that I wander, in which I have been lost.
And staying here it takes a toll, it has a rising cost.
Not many can return from here, not many have I seen,
And all the people that I meet, know not how I’ve been.
\--
Uncanny can it seem at times, uncanny how it changes,
How it warps your every thought until your mind deranges.
And then you cannot see yourself, you cannot feel your heart,
You wish that you could help yourself but know not where to start.
\--
And this is what it takes from you, this is what it costs,
All you are is fleeting now, but you are still not lost.
You are not where you think you are, you are not in this valley,
Try and look into your eyes and see that you are canny. | Sand bit into the old man's skin as the wind whipped it at his hands, his arms, his face. He trudged on. The once cloudless sky was no more than an orange haze now. The old man thought back to that time before his joints ached and his eyes had grown cloudy, when he'd last seen the heavens extend above in a never ending expanse of blue. So many years before.
He stumbled as his feet sunk into the ever shifting dunes. Through his watering eyes he could still make out the silhouette on the horizon so he kept going, onwards through the storm and the wind and the vicious lashings of the sand it carried. Pebbles and grit poured into his shoes through the holes in the toe causing it to shift uncomfortably with each step, but by now he was used to it and his feet had calloused so he hardly felt it.
As the thick haze played tricks on his old eyes the silhouette seemed to shift in the distance, as if it were pacing back and forth, impatient.
/Stupid old man/ he thought to himself. Statues did not pace, no matter how long we kept them waiting. But it seemed that statues did not listen to the logic of old men, for when he shielded his gaze from the sun with a boney hand, the silhouette had gone. Impatient, it seemed, and tired of waiting.
Straightening up, the traveller scanned the vast wastelands before him and it wasn't long before he has spotted it again. He adjusted his course and began to make his way forward, pleased that the statue had decided to meet him half way. This statue, he reflected, was supposed to mirror ourselves. What we want, how we feel and what will become of us.
Perhaps it is telling me I am restless, he chuckled to himself.
The old mans joints burned and his lips cracked from dehydration but after traveling for so many years through this barren desert he had reached it at last. The old man had hoped to see the truth, a reflection of himself and who he was or could be. What he saw was a corpse. Shrivelled and alone as the sand danced over the stone skin, carved with such delicacy he was sure he could see the fragile bones beneath. As he reached out to trace hollow grey eyes he saw just how thin his own hands had become, so similar to those on the statue, slowly succumbing to the dunes at his feet. /All this time wasted/ he thought bitterly. How could he have been so stupid? To think a status would show him the way of life? That he could learn his true self from a piece of rock? He spat to clear the sand from his mouth. This was not a place to linger long.
As he began his trek back through the desolation, ruminating in his disappointment and frustration, he did not notice the statue leave. His fate sealed. | 2020-09-15T14:21:53 | 2020-09-15T13:43:30 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] As an atheist, you always believed that there was nothing after death. After your last breath, you discover that you were wrong, but that no one else was right about what's after either.
Mainly, there is something after death, but religions are wrong about it. |
I should be dead. I remember how each breath from my withered mouth drew in less air, how my aching body grew too weak to support itself. I remember those final moments leading up to the sweet release of death.
I know I died. So why am I still alive?
At least, I think I'm alive. I'm certainly not dead.
I think I'm a disembodied consciousness. My physical senses are totally gone. I don't really feel anything, but I can almost trick myself into thinking I have a body.
Wait, what's that? I can finally feel something. It's like I'm being pulled...
Jason's eyes shot open and he gasped for air. He couldn't get any. Something was in his throat. He choked and flailed until a voice said, "Stop panicking. Relax and let the tube do its job."
The part of his brain that still held some rationality obeyed the voice. He relaxed his body. His muscles loosened and his limbs lay flat. He observed his surroundings and noticed he was inside a small capsule. The only light came through the opaque material used for the ceiling of the pod. He spotted a small tube that snaked from the wall and ended somewhere in his throat. He suppressed a pulse of anxiety, clenchig his fists until he calmed down.
"Good, you did that surprisingly quickly. I'm going to open your pod and get you back to normal. Sit tight."
Jason waited for two minutes before the ceiling of the pod retracted back. His eyes met with a bright light and he clamped them shut.
"It'll take a minute for your eyes to adjust. Stay still. I'll be removing the tube next. It will be a bit uncomfortable."
He opened his eyes again, slowly this time, and looking down at him from outside the pod was a human being dressed like a doctor. Suddenly, pain flared in his chest. He hadn't really felt the tube before, but now that it was coming out, it felt like he'd eaten a snake and it was trying to climb back up his throat.
"And there we go, the tube is out."
Jason breathed heavily. The ghost of that pain still lingered, and he wouldn't soon forget it.
Propping himself up on shaky hands, he surveyed his surroundings. All around, there were other pods, and his was the only open one. Each one must have contained a person. For what purpose, he didn't know.
He tried to remember how he got here, but each attempt to search his memory was met by the pain of a knife stabbing through his head. Jason could vaguely recall the feeling of floating in nothingness, but before that, his memory was guarded by pain.
The doctor must have noticed him wincing, because he said, "It's normal not to remember anything at first. The simulation accessed your brain in a way that's totally different from how we use it normally, and you're still suffering from the effects of that. It'll pass with time as your brain heals. Now, let's get you into the chair and bring you to the testing center."
*Simulation?*
Jason was curious, but it was clear that there was no time for questions. The doctor helped him get his legs over the sides of the pods and into a wheelchair, then rolled him out of the pod room and down a narrow hallway. They passed by many doors, and through small windows Jason could see more pods like his own, all closed.
"You might be wondering why all the other pods you see are closed, and you're the only one up and about. You don't remember it, but you managed to trigger a special condition in the simulation that enacted an ancient protocol and woke you up. More will be explained later, but I should tell you that the world of your memories was not real. Keep that in mind when your memories return."
They continued down the hall until they arrived at a door labeled "Testing Center." It swung open automatically as they neared, and waiting inside was another doctor.
"Ah, Jason, nice to meet you." The new man nodded towards the other doctor. "Thanks for bringing him, I'll take it from here."
The first man Jason met in this new world nodded and left. Soon after, Jason had needles poking him from a million different directions. The most painful one was what the doctor called a "bone marrow sample."
Once that was done, he was brought to a room with a shower and some basic clothing. He found that he'd gained enough strength to stand. Jason washed off and clothed himself in a black t-shirt and beige pants.
"Come with me." They walked further down the hallway and stood outside another room, this one labeled "Psychiatry."
"I'll leave you here. You will get an answer to most of your questions behind that door. Stay strong."
Jason entered the room. He wasn't sure how, but the room had a comfortable atmosphere. It was soothing just to stand in it. In the center of the room were two chairs. A man sat in one of them. He was young, maybe around thirty, with short black hair and startling blue eyes. He wore an infectious smile that put Jason at ease and made the man seem trustworthy.
He motioned for Jason to sit.
"Come, have a seat. We have a lot to discuss." | FADE IN:
EXT. A VERDANT GARDEN - DAY
*A man slowly fades into view amidst countless varieties of flowers and plants. This is DAVE. He glances around at his surroundings for a moment, appearing equal parts confused and suspicious.*
**DAVE:** Hello?
**ANGEL:** (*O.S.*) Greetings, David.
*Dave jumps slightly as a figure materializes in front of him. This is ANGEL. His age is unclear, and there is no visible hair anywhere on his body. He wears a white robe with intricate patterns of gold on its hems.*
**DAVE:** Who are you?
**ANGEL:** My name is Angel. I am a... concierge, for lack of a better word.
**DAVE:** Ah, well, I'll have a glass of white Zinfandel, then.
*Angel blinks once.*
**ANGEL:** Excuse me?
**DAVE:** You give out the wine, right? Isn't that what a concierge does?
**ANGEL:** That is a sommelier.
**DAVE:** Oh, right, sorry. You clean up the hallways.
**ANGEL:** That is a custodian! I am a guide! I am here to reassure you!
**DAVE:** Well, you're doing a bad job of it. Do you know what would *really* reassure me?
*A glass of pink wine appears in Dave's hand. This apparently surprises Angel.*
**ANGEL:** Where did you get that?!
**DAVE:** It was in the boat.
**ANGEL:** What b...
*Before Angel can finish, a weather-beaten (but still apparently sturdy) rowboat appears between him and Dave.*
**DAVE:** That one.
*Angel begins angrily waving his hands around.*
**ANGEL:** Stop that! Stop that at once!
*The boat and the wine both disappear as though they had been made of smoke.*
**ANGEL:** You are not meant to do that!
**DAVE:** Why not? This is Heaven, isn't it? Can't I do whatever I want?
**ANGEL:** No! Heaven is not real!
**DAVE:** Oh. Well, now I *definitely* need some wine.
*The white Zinfandel reappears in Dave's hand. He takes a casual sip as he surveys his surroundings. Angel watches this with barely concealed contempt.*
**ANGEL:** You are doing everything out of order.
**DAVE:** Yeah, well, I've been dead before. I know the drill. I am dead, right? That seagull killed me?
*Angel's irritated expression slowly adopts a guardedly curious aspect.*
**ANGEL:** "Seagull?" No, that is not relevant. Do you truly understand where you are?
**DAVE:** I mean, honestly? No. I'm making this up as I go along.
**ANGEL:** Then I shall explain. When you were alive, you would experience visions while you slept.
**DAVE:** Aha! It was the cheese that did me in, then!
**ANGEL:** "Cheese?"
**DAVE:** Yeah, man. Steve said that it had gone off, but *I* said that it would just give me crazy...
**ANGEL:** (*Interrupting*) This is also not relevant! When you died, you fully entered those visions!
*Angel gestures to the plants around them.*
**ANGEL:** (*CONT'D*) This is the vestibule of the world that you would visit as you slumbered.
**DAVE:** I don't see a toilet.
**ANGEL:** Not "lavatory!" *Vestibule!* Threshold!
**DAVE:** Prosit!
**ANGEL:** ... What?
**DAVE:** It's Swedish for "gesundheit."
*A noise not unlike that of a creaking hinge escapes Angel's lips.*
**ANGEL:** Fine! I shall be very concise! You died! You entered the world you had only glimpsed!
**DAVE:** Yeah, and the rules are different here.
*With a clatter of wooden impacts and bouncing oars, the rowboat reappears.*
**DAVE:** (*CONT'D*) See?
**ANGEL:** You do not seem concerned with *following* those rules.
**DAVE:** Eh, what's the point? I'm just going to die here, too, and then it's back to the other place.
*Angel's mouth opens and closes several times.*
**ANGEL:** You *do* understand! You have indeed been dead!
**DAVE:** Well, yeah. I mean, I was pretty sure that it was all make-believe, but...
**ANGEL:** (*Interrupting*) How have you remembered?!
*Dave shrugs.*
**DAVE:** I didn't. Like I said, I'm making this up as I go along.
**ANGEL:** You are making very little sense, David.
**DAVE:** Isn't that kind of the point?
**ANGEL:** I am becoming both frustrated and confused.
**DAVE:** Ah. New experience for you?
**ANGEL:** I do not like it. How can you know these things?
**DAVE:** It was a nursery rhyme.
*Several seconds pass in silence.*
**ANGEL:** What?
**DAVE:** It's all recursive, right? Only, like, inside out.
**ANGEL:** *What?!*
**DAVE:** You die there, you go here, you die here, you go there, and so on.
**ANGEL:** How does any of that relate to a nursery rhyme?!
*Dave shrugs and sits down in the rowboat. As Angel watches him, it is revealed that there is a narrow river running between the two of them.*
**DAVE:** Hey, do you want a glass? I found an extra one.
**ANGEL:** No! I insist that you answer! How did a nursery rhyme give you such wisdom?!
*Angel watches as Dave begins rowing the boat with one hand, using the other to drink his (seemingly bottomless) glass of wine.*
**DAVE:** Life is but a... bah, you get it.
FADE TO BLACK. | 2021-07-01T15:36:52 | 2021-07-01T13:42:41 | 63 | 42 |
[WP] You're pretty sure your boyfriend was replaced by an eldritch being that can barely emulate being human. Weirdly, you enjoy a better relationship with them then your actual boyfriend. | It had been a year since Ian had been replaced, but Sarah never said anything, things were better, he now bought her food and gifts, sometimes he walked on all fours and used his claws to cut her hair and open letters. The best thing about Sarah’s new Ian was; there was no longer abuse, no more bruises, no more black eyes, no more gaslighting and controlling. There was a new car in the driveway new Ian bought Sarah, old Ian wouldn’t allow Sarah to drive anywhere alone. New Ian kept the fridge stocked and cooked meals, old Ian drank a whole mottle of whisky and broke it over Sarah’s head.
Yes, Ian is strange, but he couldn’t hurt her anymore.
We are quick to judge monsters and new ideas, and not quick enough to judge those who hurt us. | Life was good, you had food, house, all the basic necessities in life and I had even managed to get a boyfriend last week, life was indeed good!
Recently though, from the last two days my boyfriend, Mark has been acting in a peculiar manner at first you thought this was the real him, the one who is finally back in his comfort zone he was a kind introverted person, who did not talk a lot but that was fine with you since you wanted a boyfriend just like him but these changes seem a bit too bizarre for it to be normal.
I am beginning to suspect that the one I have been contact with for the last two days is not Mark but rather someone who has possessed him, a shapeshifting eldritch being has replaced him or he has a twin who is meeting me instead of him... weirdly enough last one seems the least likely since Marks's acting as person who is interacting with humans for the first time.
Possession is also ruled out since he does not really done any evil, malicious acts... and he seems to be a bit too pure and innocent to possess someone.
A eldritch being... I should really stop overthinking things...
Anyway I am calling the imposter Mikey in my mind.
He seems more like a golden retriever who can talk then anything else... always curious, eager to do something and be praised. Whenever I see him I feel my heart beat faster his innocent, angelic(ha!) smile, the way he perks up.
Yesterday we went out on a date to the movie theatre to watch a romance filled horror movie and his expressions were priceless... he blushed deep red at even small show of affection while ignoring all the horror elements like it was part of life.
Maybe I am the bad person, may be I am too tired and sleepy or even too drunk to have moral compassion but I am happy to be with Mikey.
\----
Critiques and tips to write better would be greatly appreciated! | 2021-12-05T02:36:32 | 2021-12-04T23:09:44 | 42 | 31 |
[WP] Vampire society have been loyal customers to a carpenter for years. He made the best coffins they have slept in for centuries, and never really got suspicious of so many wealthy people willing to pay premium for the same niche item. As he got old, the vampires tries to offer him immortality. | The coffin Alastair steps into is made of bamboo. It's biodegradable -- just like him. This is his shop and it's packed with all kinds of coffins. He's been making them all his life but it's only the last decade people wanted bamboo or banana leaf or cardboard coffins. *Cardboard,* he thinks disdainfully. He's never made a cardboard coffin in his life and god knows he never will. Fit for a hamster, maybe, but not for a person. And maybe not even a hamster.
He lays back and closes the lid, letting the darkness drown him. Bamboo stinks, he decides. It's not for him. But the darkness is good.
Alastair's suffered migraines the last year. Being in such total darkness helps a little. Every day, after work, he's been getting into his coffins, partly for the dark, partly to test drive them because he's got a lump in his brain the size of a pebble and it's swelling quick. Growing. It's a weed that's taking all the water and all the soil that the older plants needed to live, so now everything's wilting except that weed.
He's not all that scared to die. He doesn't want to, but that's a different matter altogether. He's got young grandkids that he loves very much and he'd like to see what they turn into, what colour butterflies will burst out into the world. Plus, he doesn't want to die for more selfish reasons, too. He likes being alive for one, likes doing and learning and being. Simple as that. But scared he's not. He's not been scared for a long time.
He lies back for a while as dots waltz through the darkness in a rainbow of colours. To him, those dots are the tumour. It presents itself like that, in interesting ways. Somedays, he'll wake to see he left the oven on all night, or he'd called someone and walked away from the phone, or he'd find himself in the neighbours garden for no reason at all. That's how he sees the tumour, from the physical events it manifests. It's how it communicates to him, lets him know it's there.
There are three knocks then. Right on the bamboo lid.
He must have left the shop door open, wouldn't be the first time.
"We're closed," he says.
"Yes I know, but I really must talk to you," comes the muffled reply. It's a woman's voice. Even muffled it's smooth, calming.
He pushes the lid open and sits up in the coffin.
The woman to his side is young. Most people are young to him. Still, she must be early thirties? She's got dark hair in a neat fringe, a pale face, bright lipstick. Something of an old-fashioned movie starlet quality to her. It takes him back.
"What can I do for you?" he asks, trying to get out of the coffin. It's like getting out of the bath though and he slips twice. The woman offers a hand but he shakes his head and on the third try he gets over the edge.
"It's more what I can do for you," she says, pulling up a generous smile. "You see, I represent a consortium of--"
"Not interested."
"--of clients of yours. Former and future, hopefully."
He pauses. "Clients?"
"Yes. Of many people who buy your goods because they cherish your craftsmanship." She gestures around the shop at the various propped open coffins. "We've been importing your products for many years, but this is the first time any of us have visited your shop in person. But this time, it had to be in person."
He's always been strangely successful abroad. The catalogues sell his products better than the shop floor. It's admittedly unusual for his trade.
"That so?" he says.
"That's so."
"And what do my former clients want from me?"
"We know you're dying. We certainly don't want that."
He stares at her. Then laughs. "Me neither, to tell the truth. But life's the journey from A to B, and I'm leaning hard on the second letter."
She smiles wider now. He's not sure if it's his head or... But it looks as if two of her teeth are sinking down over her lip. Extending out like a pair of mechanical pencils.
"You seen a dentist lately?"
"I'll cut to the chase," she says. "We're vampires. And none of us have found better, more secure, more comfortable coffins than yours."
What to make of it, he's not sure! Vampires? Couldn't be. Could it be? Ever the professional he says, "I'm glad to hear you've been enjoying my products."
"We'd like to continue using them, if it's all the same. As such, I would like to offer you the chance to become like us, to become a vampire. To be immortal. If you agree I will bite you myself, and that little tumour in your head will shrink down to nothing in a day."
He blushes at that. At the thought of those red lips and long teeth sinking into his wrinkled old neck.
"I hope that doesn't scare you," she says.
He shakes his head. No, he doesn't scare anymore. Sure, he was scared as all hell when Sally got diagnosed with breast cancer. Now that scared him so bad that nothing since -- when placed in comparison -- has managed to frighten him a hair. His own death? No, that's not fear when compared to losing his reason. His love. His world. All of those other romantic cliches lying around. But there's strong truth in old cliches.
"I appreciate the offer," he says, grabbing his head, holding the migraine, "but if it's all the same, I'm content with not being immortal."
"Content?" she asks, mildly taken back.
"It's been a decade since my wife died and the pain is not so much less than it was. While I'd sure like to keep on ticking in some senses, for some reasons, I don't want that pain anymore." He climbs into a walnut coffin, sits up in it and looks at the vampire.
She sighs. "I see. Then, I'm sorry for wasting your time."
"My pleasure," he says.
She turns to leave, pauses by the door. "The walnut classic is my favourite."
He nods. "I dare say it's mine too."
Once she's gone, he lies back and closes the lid. Lets the stars dance in the darkness.
He thinks about that strange lady. How did she get in, anyway? Door was locked wasn't it? And how did she get out for that matter. He doesn't remember her leaving yet he swears he just watched her go.
God, she looked like a movie star.
Beautiful with a capital b.
A lot like his wife, he thinks. When she was young. Same lipstick shade, same hair. Only the teeth were different.
And then he's wondering if he concocted the whole damn thing.
He thinks he probably did.
And if so, well then maybe not everything about his condition is so bad. Not if it brought her back, even for a moment, even if different. Because to him, for that moment, she was alive.
He takes a deep breath that turns into a yawn, and notices his head isn't hurting so much as usual. "I miss you so damn much," he says. His voice echoes around the coffin as if someone else were saying the words to him. | # Soulmage
**I knew the Grandmaster was hiding something when he ordered his second coffin of the month.** I could understand why he'd ordered from Jiaola—if there was any carpenter in the Silent Peaks that you wanted working for you, it was one who'd built his own home from scratch—but the order itself was inexplicable. That, combined with the Grandmaster's tendency to inadvertently drop ancient secrets like so much candy, led me to believe that the Grandmaster wasn't what he appeared to be.
And if he was concerned enough about who he really was to go to such great lengths to hide it, that meant it was a secret worth leverage.
A core part of me hated using a hidden part of a person's identity against them—but desperate times called for desperate measures. I had a goal to achieve and misdeeds to atone for, and I needed a favor or three in order to get it done.
So finding out what the Grandmaster was hiding—and hinting that I just might let it slip—seemed like the best place to start.
I didn't know the Grandmaster's name—nobody did—but he liked going by a pretentious stack of titles. Grandmaster Water Magic Lord Sage Unmatched Crusader Knight, if I remembered correctly. I just abbreviated it to GWMLSUCK, and later, just SUCK. He was a wizened old man, with a cloak of leather that looked old enough to have been made last century, but the SUCK had a surprisingly youthful smoothness to his skin, an uncannily fluid spring to his step. The sun had long since set, but the pale orbs of witchlight on the streets still provided ample illumination as the SUCK made his way to Jiaola's house.
I cast a shrinking spell on myself—nowadays, I had ample fuel for the one spell I knew—and sprinted up behind him as he knocked on Jiaola's door. Jiaola's sun-tanned, wrinkled face broke out into a wide grin as he welcomed the SUCK in.
"How's my oldest customer doing?" Jiaola asked. "You haven't aged a day since we've last met!"
"Yes, yes, well... you have," the SUCK muttered, a slight hint of unease in his expression. "Do you have the resting place I ordered?"
"Of course! Hand-carved and enchanted with the finest quality spells, just how you like it." Just how... he likes it? How many times had the SUCK ordered new coffins? Was he burying people in secret? "Come in, come in."
In my shrunken state, neither Jiaola nor the SUCK noticed me sneak into the carpenter's house. I felt a pang of guilt as I snuck in—Jiaola and I were on friendly terms, even after that whole business with the demon invasion, and it rankled me to be sneaking around his home like this.
But I'd hurt people worse before. At least this time, it was for a good cause.
Jiaola walked downstairs, and I swore under my breath. He was headed for the safe room—a solid wooden box enchanted with, among other things, passive magic dampers. If I spent too long in there without a protection amulet I didn't have, the shrinking spell keeping me hidden would break, and I'd be exposed for nothing.
Thankfully, the last time I'd been inside the safe room, a haughty, arrogant witch had pointed out how to disable it, and Jiaola hadn't updated the safe room since then. Whispering an apology to Jiaola, I snuck in on the SUCK's heels and crawled up the wall, snapping three nodes of memorabilia. The oddly calming, draining sensation on my soul abruptly ended, and I maintained my secrecy as I watched Jiaola show the SUCK to a coffin.
Reverently, the SUCK ran one hand over the smooth bloodwood coffin, inlaid with dragonscale and puffwool. "It's beautiful," the SUCK whispered. "She'll love it."
Jiaola laughed, a craftsman's pride gleaming in his eyes. "I may be getting old, but these hands still remember what it's like to shape wood."
The SUCK paused, lost in reverie for a long moment, then said, "I could fix that, you know."
"Hm?" Jiaola asked.
"Mortality." The SUCK took a step back from the coffin, turning to Jiaola. He took Jiaola's weathered, calloused hand, studying it. "These hands have seen a lifetime of craft. It will be a shame when you perish, and your soul is scattered into thoughtspace."
Another one of those bizarre secrets the SUCK seemed to leave behind him wherever he went. He was the only person I knew who would casually mention what happened after death—and that was exactly why I needed him. I focused on the conversation as Jiaola took his hand—politely but firmly—out of the SUCK's grip. "What do you mean by that?" Jiaola politely asked.
"I could make you immortal," the SUCK said. "I could make you one of us."
And the leathery cloak on the SUCK's back unfolded into bat's wings, and the vampire held out a hand to the old carpenter.
I guess my nickname for him was more accurate than I thought.
Jiaola gave the vampire a long, considering look.
Then he smiled and said, "No thanks."
The vampire blinked. "I—excuse me?"
"I said, no thanks." Jiaola patted the coffin lid. "I was born in the Redlands. Death is a part of who I am. I've made my peace with it. I'll die as nothing more than human, just like the rest of us."
The vampire spluttered. "I—but—you—"
"I make good coffins," he said, "and I know what it's like to have to hide who you are. My husband and I had to deal with that for our entire lives. So don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."
The vampire closed his eyes.
Then he folded up his wings, and he was once more nothing but a man wearing an oddly-shaped leather coat.
"Very well." He laughed. "I... to my surprise, I'm... not even angry. Simply... sad. I will miss you."
Jiaola gave the vampire a kind smile. "Don't you worry about me. I've still got some life left in me."
The vampire smiled, and despite the chill of the room, it somehow felt warm.
Then he tilted the coffin onto a wheeled dolly and began taking it out of the house.
I wished I could have left it at that. I really did.
But I had a question to ask. And now, I had the leverage to have it answered.
I scribbled a note on the floor and left it in a corner of Jiaola's room. If my gamble didn't pay off, I'd at least have a sliver of insurance.
As the vampire left the room and began walking down the street, I shadowed him until he passed through a quiet, empty street.
Then I broke the shrinking spell, expanding to my full size with a whoosh of displaced air. I felt a surge of self-hatred at using the vampire's secret against him, but it had to be done. The vampire spun around, startled, something... fluid... glistening at his fingertips.
"What are you—"
"I know what you are," I interrupted. "I know that you know things. And I've left notes in case I go missing, so killing or kidnapping me won't help you."
The vampire snarled, the fluid at his claws lengthening. "Then what do you want with me, mortal?"
"Answer me one question, and I will keep your secret forever."
"Then ask, insolent journeyman."
I took a deep breath, then said, "I know you know where souls go when they die." He was an ancient vampire; of course he did. "My question is: how can you bring one *back*?"
A.N.
Let me know if you want a part 2!
Soulmage will be episodically updated. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out, and check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me. | 2022-05-31T12:21:41 | 2022-05-31T10:42:02 | 2,912 | 85 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | The universe exists in the middle of an explosion. Billions of stars burn and then shed their matter across the void as they burn out. Our species developed from that matter to rule. We clawed our way out of our gravity well and fought any other species that dared to join us in space. Until we came across humans.
They are tiny compared to us. Fragile. Insignificant. They cannot bear the energy of stars without protection, even on their world. The void crushes them outside their gravity well, so they developed shelters to explore from. We tore those shelters to pieces before we even recognized what they were.
They struck back using matter, which we ignored. They struck back using energy, which annoyed us. Then they struck back using stars. How did such insignificant things harness the power of stars? Somehow they can create them at will. We lost an entire colony in their system before we realized what had happened.
Then the war began in earnest. We had fought all others into submission yet could not stop humans. They were too small. Kill one, and a million come next. They breed faster than any other thinking creatures we have found and can live on useless scraps of matter. They fear nothing.
We thought to keep them isolated in their system, but an infestation of them hid on our ship until it reached our home. They exploited our infrastructure and used what they could steal to sustain their colony. In that short time, their numbers grew exponentially, and they learned our ways. Once we arrived home, they used that knowledge to ignite suns all over the system to damaging effect.
My homeworld is completely overrun now. No one can help me. I write this last message as my orbit decays into the sun. Do not fight humans. They are war. | "We all know they're weaklings, Commander Smith," The soldier said, saluting Commander Smith, "I mean, come on, they don't know how to fire gamma-rays. In fact, they haven't built any spaceships yet."
"That's enough, Soldier 92-BII," said Commander Smith, "We're headed to their planet. The news spread that it colonized all of their star system after finishing the completion of Pluto a
'dwarf planet'. What a strange term." Commander Smith walked through the hallway.
Soldier 92-BII looked out the window. The spherical object he saw had a red and gray surface, with a layer of nitrogen shaped as a heart. Nearby was another gray object, but one of it's poles was orange. "How fascinating. It seems yellow dwarves have the strongest gravity of all the stars." Soldier 92 said.
A few minutes later, they had an encounter with a giant, dark blue orb with a relatively large moon. The ship steered towards the moon and eventually landed.
Various soldiers began walking onto the surface of the alien world that was being controlled by humans. Amongst hushed tones, Soldier 92 learned that the name of the moon was 'Triton' and the planet it was orbiting was named 'Neptune'. "This is a true alien world." Soldier 92 said before realizing that Triton was his stop, so he scurried off.
Looking around the icy world were giant structures made of metal and glass, rising high into the night sky. Some were connected. Humans could be seen walking amongst the city on the alien world, thriving. However, the peace ended, disturbed by a scream. Soldier 92 ran over to the source of the scream. Another soldier, Soldier 98-7BG, had stabbed a human in the chest. "What?!" Soldier 92 grunted angrily when he was tackled by a human, who was furious.
"KILL THE ALIENS!" Someone said over an intercom.
Total war had started. To 92's surprise, the human he was dueling was incredibly strong. Several of his allies' bodies began crashing onto the ground of Triton.
Suddenly, a flicker of silver light. Humans left and right fell to the ground, their weapons disappearing. It was Commander Smith. "92, what happened? Why did this start?"
"W-well, uh, 98 decided to stab a human, and apparently that made the rest of them mad, so then they started dueling us. To my surprise, they were holding their own. We have several fatalities, including 98." explained 92, gesturing to the corpses of his allies.
"This is going to be one of many, I can just feel it." | 2022-08-05T11:29:13 | 2022-08-05T10:57:14 | 354 | 107 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | We thought that we knew what we were doing. They had barely made it to their own moon before we had arrived and we had an armada. The had nuclear weapons and we laughed as we ate their bombs, inhaling the radiation like they did with helium. When we arrived they had greeted us like gods, crowds of worshipers and cameras. They had their army ready but they certainly didn’t look special.
We had laser guns that could leave nothing but red and green bones behind, they still used gunpowder. So we shot a birdie that apparently had ment peace, a laughable concept, and slaughtered the gathering. And even after that they had tried to negotiate peace!
To give credit where it’s due, it was impressive to see them build a translator for our language that has so many subtleties in both pitch and tone. But still it was amusing to destroy their monuments and to see them flee as we had our way with their world.
We didn’t realize however, the power of voice. Humans are capable of reaching pitches so high that they can shatter glass and even the resonant frequency of our brains. When this was discovered we swiftly found ourselves on the back foot.
No Martian left on that rock was given quarter and even now they reverse engineer our ships and hunt us down. All the while they play that hunting song known as yodeling. I hear them now faintly through the door, the music would be beautiful if I didn’t feel my brain ripple even from here. So I leave this in memory of my species, should the humans see this know I hate you and that we should have blown up your planet when we had the chance. Should others see this I leave you some parting words: ACK ACKACK ACk ACK ACK!!! | "We all know they're weaklings, Commander Smith," The soldier said, saluting Commander Smith, "I mean, come on, they don't know how to fire gamma-rays. In fact, they haven't built any spaceships yet."
"That's enough, Soldier 92-BII," said Commander Smith, "We're headed to their planet. The news spread that it colonized all of their star system after finishing the completion of Pluto a
'dwarf planet'. What a strange term." Commander Smith walked through the hallway.
Soldier 92-BII looked out the window. The spherical object he saw had a red and gray surface, with a layer of nitrogen shaped as a heart. Nearby was another gray object, but one of it's poles was orange. "How fascinating. It seems yellow dwarves have the strongest gravity of all the stars." Soldier 92 said.
A few minutes later, they had an encounter with a giant, dark blue orb with a relatively large moon. The ship steered towards the moon and eventually landed.
Various soldiers began walking onto the surface of the alien world that was being controlled by humans. Amongst hushed tones, Soldier 92 learned that the name of the moon was 'Triton' and the planet it was orbiting was named 'Neptune'. "This is a true alien world." Soldier 92 said before realizing that Triton was his stop, so he scurried off.
Looking around the icy world were giant structures made of metal and glass, rising high into the night sky. Some were connected. Humans could be seen walking amongst the city on the alien world, thriving. However, the peace ended, disturbed by a scream. Soldier 92 ran over to the source of the scream. Another soldier, Soldier 98-7BG, had stabbed a human in the chest. "What?!" Soldier 92 grunted angrily when he was tackled by a human, who was furious.
"KILL THE ALIENS!" Someone said over an intercom.
Total war had started. To 92's surprise, the human he was dueling was incredibly strong. Several of his allies' bodies began crashing onto the ground of Triton.
Suddenly, a flicker of silver light. Humans left and right fell to the ground, their weapons disappearing. It was Commander Smith. "92, what happened? Why did this start?"
"W-well, uh, 98 decided to stab a human, and apparently that made the rest of them mad, so then they started dueling us. To my surprise, they were holding their own. We have several fatalities, including 98." explained 92, gesturing to the corpses of his allies.
"This is going to be one of many, I can just feel it." | 2022-08-05T12:01:10 | 2022-08-05T10:57:14 | 190 | 107 |
[WP] You are a mighty draconian blacksmith for a small village in the mountains. You make unbreakable tools for the villagers in exchange for coin, yet refuse to make weapons. Until… | The stranger standing before me pulled off his hat and scarf to reveal a face that I've never seen nor heard of before - pale skin tarnished with weather strung over bones, messy short hair and a long nose. What made that face different from other travellers were the deeply seated grayish blue eyes resembling a winter river so deep, you would certainly drown in it.
"How may I help you with my craft? What do you require: horseshoes, hoes, shovels, shears, maybe a hammer and nails?"
The stranger made an expression that I could only guess was a light smile while his eyes measured me head to toe. When he spoke back he had a very weird accent and his words were careful.
"I've come from afar and were told you're the best in your craft far and wide. I have a need for a tool that you've never made, touched or even seen, but I can tell you how to make it."
With those the stranger gave me a number of drawings done with such attention to detail I gasped. Measurements, dimensions, all matching to form a long device made of wood and steel with springs, hinges and screws. Despite a feeling deep down inside my mind I had to know how it worked and was made, the urge was too great to resist.
Many days have passed during the work on the peculiar tool. The stranger showed me smithing techniques I've never seen before, but limited himself to observing and making corrections on the drawings. While I worked on metals, he worked on wood and alchemy foreign even to the wisest I've met.
When the steel was met with wood, hinges with the springs and alchemical coatings were applied the stranger showed me the purpose of the tool and I've fallen to my knees over the vow I broken out of dangerous curiosity.
I've created a weapon worse than anything I've ever made or seen, a terrifying contraption breathing fire and spewing metal, easier to use than a crossbow or a slingshot and with a monstrously better range, speed and accuracy. Empires would be made and destroyed with it, countless lives lost and saved, tyranny and freedom mixed into one.
I couldn't accept his coin, but I accepted his knowledge, knowing that it was rather a curse than a blessing. Watching the drawings burn in the forge fire I knew I could not trust myself to ever again grab a hammer to smith again. | "But come on!" Yelled the adventurer Volris "I need a sword to kill the bandit leader nearby, he's been extracting tribute from every village in the region!" his shouts echoed throughout the village, him angrily stomping back and forth, while Joldr calmly continued forging the farming tools that the villagers requested.
"No means no, lad. Didn't your Ma tell you that?" the smith asked, his calm blue eyes only slightly raising up from the forge, before looking back at the draconian scythe he was working on.
"I'll pay with coin" Volris took out a large pouch, presumably filled to the brim with coins of silver and gold make. "Triple your usual rate."
"No. Read my lips, you scrawny brat. Don't you humans have something better to do, like dying before reaching a century?"
"But why wont you help? You haven't given any answer!"
"Because i don't need to, lad. I said no, now run along to another village; i am a very busy man." the draconian said, a scaled hand holding the red-hot blade of the scythe steady, the other hammering it into shape with brutal slams of a hammer.
"I do! you can't just say no, innocents are dyi-"
"You think i don't know that!?" The scaled smith snapped, before cooling down a little. "I know that, i really do. But i can't forge another weapon."
"Another?"
"... Forget i said anything." Joldr spoke, with a whisper "Please."
"No, what the hell did you mean by 'another'?"
"... Seventy years ago, i made a sword for a man names Caethon Aesiran."
"The conqueror of the west? You mean you made-"
"Don't you fucking dare say its name!... Yes, i made the infernal thing, gods i wish i didn't. He forged an empire built on oppression, slavery, and expansionism. And what's the symbol of his real, the thing that thousands fight and die for every war?"
"You told me not to say it's name though-"
"Valasoron, the slayer of the giants! i made a symbol of fear and hatred for the free men of the world... Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"
"I just want to kill one person, what bad will that do?"
"Caethon said that as well. Before the conquests and the slavery and the realms, we were good friends, and he was just a boy with a dream: to make sure that no other boy would suffer the horrors of banditry he did. So no, i will not build another horrific symbol of tyranny, i don't care how much you give me!"
"... Look, that is a very good reason to not build weapons, and i get why you don't now... but people are dying, and i need your help to stop that. If you want me to bury the sword after using it, then sure. If you want me to slit my own throat after using it, then fine." Volris said, his voice sombre "But plebe do not let the many die because of the tyranny of one."
the smith stood silent for a moment, seeming to be deep in though, before sighting deeply.
"Very well" the draconian removed the scythe blade, placing it with others, before taking out new materials "Give me until noon tomorrow, and don't forget the bury the damn thing when you kill the bastard!" | 2022-08-21T16:57:46 | 2022-08-21T14:13:31 | 172 | 35 |
[WP] You come across two friends. They don't don't notice you. They are referring to each other by names that are not the names by which you know them. | I was walkin' through the park on my way back to the villa when I saw my two buds Johnny Acorns and Vinny standin' by the corner. They din't see me so I tried to sneak up on 'em. You know, give 'em the drop. I was only a couple a feet behind 'em when someone grabbed me and pulled me into the bushes. When he put his hand over my mouth, I thought I was a goner for sure. I swear I saw my whole life pass in fronta me before I realized it was just my brother Paulie.
"Paulie, what the fu-"
"Quiet, Frank, keep your voice down." Somethin' was wrong. Paulie was whisperin', even though he's got the loudest mouth in the city.
"What's happenin', Paulie?"
"The Boss has me tailing your friends, Frank. Something ain't right with them." Paulie looked concerned. I ain't never seen him like that before.
"What the hell are you talkin' about? I've known Vinny and Johnny for years! There ain't nothin' wrong with them."
"I know, Frank, but I've been following them all day and something is definitely up. They're not acting right. Vinny keeps calling Johnny 'Earl' and Johnny's been calling Vinny 'Steve'. They're making me nervous, Frank."
"This is bullshit, Paulie. Johnny Acorns was the Best Man at my weddin' and Vinny's been my pal since he covered my ass durin' the shootout with the Gambonis back in '06. Ain't nothin' fishy about 'em."
We were arguin' back and forth for a long time, all the while Vinny and Johnny were just standin' there at the edge of the street. I was gettin' ready to tell Paulie that he was crazier than a chocolate cannoli when a black car with tinted windows pulled up in front of my pals. The car stopped and rolled down its windows revealin' an old guy in a suit and sunglasses. The guy leaned forward and passed Johnny Acorns a yellow envelope, and when he leaned back his jacket swung open and I saw somethin' shiny pinned to his shirt.
"You see that, Frank? That was a goddamn badge! These guys are fucking cops!" I couldn't believe it. I thought these guys were my best friends, but they were nothin' but dirty rotten rats. My whole world came tumblin' down faster than a fat guy wearin' cement shoes in the bay.
That was the last time I ever saw 'em. Me and Paulie made our getaway and told the Boss everythin' we saw. The next week, the Boss sent a cleaner to take care of 'em. From what I heard, they're sleepin' with the fishes now. | Sidney walks down the street aimlessly in her yellow sunflower patterned summer dress and white sandals. She smiles as the wind blows her curly hair in all directions; it had been so long since she had been so carefree. Today was her day and she felt like she owned it.
It had been a rough few months between being evicted, finding a new apartment, work, and her relationship woes; but finally everything was starting to look up. She hums to herself as she passes people on the street and she bops her head with the tune. She buys a magazine and sits down at a café table ordering a cappuccino.
As she flips through the pages reading the latest celebrity gossip and sipping her cup, she hears a familiar voice and looks up. A few tables ahead sits her ex fiancé, Charlie with her best friend, Allie. Sidney cringes wondering what they’re doing together and puts the magazine in front of her face. She hears Allie giggle the way she used to at Charlie’s jokes and feels a painful sensation in her heart. She tries to read the words on the magazine page but is too distracted from their conversation.
Allie chirps, “I still can’t believe you’re a teacher! You’re so down to Earth and you look so young!”
Charlie chuckles, “Yeah, I don’t believe in the whole aging thing. Do you mind passing the salt Daphne?”
Allie giggles again saying, “Sure Johnnie!”
Sidney’s head pops up: Daphne? Johnnie? Who were these people?
She puts down her magazine and glances in their direction- she would know Charlie’s curly hair anywhere and especially his dark eyes. She looks at Allie and her long dyed blonde hair curiously; maybe this was some type of cutesy game for couples?
Sidney hears a chair move and looks to their table to see Allie get up and head to the bathroom. As soon as she leaves, Charlie sighs and buries his face in his hands. Sidney stares wondering if he really was Charlie; her Charlie never looked so defeated or tired. Charlie begins to play on his phone bored and Sidney contemplates calling out his name to see if he would look over. Then she thinks of their break-up; they weren’t on very good terms and she’d rather not evoke a screaming match in such a cozy café.
Allie wanders back to the table and kisses Charlie on the cheek making Sidney want to disappear and salvage the rest of her day. Allie begins to whisper something to Charlie and so Sidney listens closely out of curiosity knowing that she shouldn’t.
Charlie chuckles again and whispers, “So have you seen Sidney lately?”
Allie shakes her head, “She’s at work a lot lately; she was super excited she had a few hours to herself tonight.”
Sidney’s eyes widen wondering why they were discussing her of all possible topics.
Charlie asks, “When do you think we’ll be able to ‘do the job’?”
Allie groans, “After we establish some history for Daphne and Johnnie Walters. We don’t want to get caught, do we?”
Charlie buries his hands, “I just don’t get it. Why does this matter so much anyway?”
Allie rolls her eyes, “We want it to look like Daphne and Johnny were travelling and robbed her in the dead of night before escaping back to Mexico.
Charlie asks, “But what if she’s home? I don’t want to hurt her anymore.”
Allie replies “Don’t worry! We won’t. We have to do this so there’s not even a chance we’ll be caught. We’re just going to take what is rightfully ours and then we’ll leave her to live her life and we’ll live ours.”
Charlie smiles and takes a bite of his croissant as Allie drinks her tea. Sidney puts her magazine in her bag and then leaves the café fearfully. What could they possibly want from her?
| 2014-08-29T12:24:39 | 2014-08-29T12:01:46 | 66 | 26 |
[WP] A blind woman falls in love with a certain man and they marry. Years later an expensive treatment allows her to see again. Her husband is not what she expects. | Wendy sat speechless as she stared into the big brown eyes of her beloved husband. Not a word had been spoken between them since he walked into the room. His nerves got the better of him and he decided to break the tension by offering a gentle smile. Wendy recoiled in horror and began to sob.
"Come on, Weeendy. What's the matter?"
Shocked, Wendy wiped away her tears and looked around the room to find the source of the familiar voice, a voice that she had grown to adore over the course of their marriage. Finding no one else in the room, she turned to him and covered her trembling mouth, eyes welling with tears once again. "How is this possible? How could you be... I just don't understand. Is that really you?"
"Yes, daaarling. It's me! Your husband, Ed!"
Certain now that the voice was coming from him, Wendy pinched her arm in an attempt to wake herself from this nightmare. She closed her eyes and shook her head, but when she opened them he was still standing before her.
"Ed," she whispered with hesitation, "is that really you?"
"Of course!" he snorted as he shook his head. "Who else were you expecting?"
"I was expecting a human!" she shouted. Ed's long face drooped in disappointment as he attempted to hide his shameful expression. "Is this why you never let me feel your face?"
"Weeendy..." Ed sighed. "I thought you knew. We've been together for years!"
Wendy thought back along the years of their blissful marriage. Suddenly, everything she found odd began to make sense: Their separate beds, the swarms of flies that always followed them, the piles of carrot stems that she swept up daily.
"I need some time to think."
"I understaaand, Wendy. I'll be waiting in the hall." Ed turned, his coarse tail whipping the sheets by her feet. He grabbed the door handle with his mouth and trotted out of the room, hooves clopping on the hospital tiles as he moved.
*So he wasn't wearing wooden clogs all these years,* she thought. She pondered over all of the other memories she held so dear, and finally understood why her family had disowned her when she insisted on marrying the celebrity they clearly objected to. She thought about their wedding, and that first night they spent together. The thought of his muscular hairy body as he...
*No! This has to be a joke! Please, someone tell me this isn't real!*
The nurse walked in carrying a shovel and plastic bag. She hated dealing with celebrity couples, and was frustrated that she had been assigned manure duty. But when she saw the turmoil on Wendy's face her anger turned to pity. "What's the matter, dear?"
"My husband. He's a horse!"
Confused, she explained, "Of course, of course! Didn't you know? You two are quite famous, after all."
Wendy's cheeks became red as she turned to face the window. "I had no idea. Who's ever heard of a talking horse?"
"Well, go straight to the source and ask your husband!" she cheered. A long, drawn out neigh echoed through the hall in front of the room. Wendy burst into tears once again as she tried to come to terms with her decisions in life and understand all of the strange memories that finally started to add up and make sense. | The night before the surgery, Esther dreamed of colors.
Ten years had passed since the accident. The ten year anniversary would be on Tuesday. She would visit the graveyard on Tuesday and decorate Sally’s monument with flowers.
She would be able to see the colors of the flowers by then. Violets. Lilies. Peonies. Roses.
Roses wouldn’t be appropriate, would they?
Esther didn’t care. They might not be right for anyone else, but they would be perfect for Sally.
Sally, whose last words had been “Find somebody to love.”
“Find somebody to guide you through the darkness,” Sally had said, “Find somebody to touch.”
And she had. Oh, how they had loved! How they had touched!
Nestor was the best partner a girl could ask for. Sensitive, kind, thoughtful. He wrote excellent poetry.
True, he had a little weight problem. And he’d only gotten heavier over the years.
But it didn’t bother Esther. More weight just meant that there was more of him to touch.
She loved touching him. The way his soft hair felt, running through her fingers. His tender kisses on her neck. His love.
Their love was so good that Esther didn’t even miss the sense of sight. Not until she heard about the new procedure. That was when the possibility of regaining her vision took over Esther’s life.
She researched the procedure exhaustively. She read about countless surgeons, and selected the one she wanted. But there was only one problem.
The procedure cost one hundred and ten thousand dollars.
That was when Nestor proved his undying love for her. He took a second job, working at the Smithsonian. He donated his plasma. He signed up for medical experiments on the weekends. He barely slept.
This carried on for years. Finally the day came. One hundred and ten bones in the bank. They scheduled the surgery. They had made fabulous love that night. Unforgettable.
And then everything happened so quickly. Fasting the night before. The ride to the hospital. The supportive touch of the nurse’s hand. The soft cotton sheet on the operating table. The last thing she remembered was being pushed down the hallway in her bed. Vibrations came up from the bed’s wobbly wheels. Her excitement had been magical.
And then she was somewhere else. Kayaking into an endless glittering sea of morphine.
When she came out the other side, she heard a television. Someone was watching the news.
She put her hands up to her face. There was a silk mask on her eyes. She stuck a finger under the mask, touching her eyelid. It felt fine.
“Nestor,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “Nestor, are you there?”
“I’m here honey,” Nestor said. He kissed her on the forehead.
“Nestor,” she said, “I want to see you. I want you to be the first thing I see.”
She had imagined this moment over and over. This man whom she loved so dearly, but had never seen. What did he look like? She ached with longing, desperately wanting to look into the face of her happiness, her joy. Her Nestor.
She brought down the mask and sat up, looking around the room.
There was a Mastodon, standing on two legs. Its other two legs hung in the air like massive tree branches. It wore a tan trench coat, a monocle, and a boiler hat. It was carrying a briefcase.
The Mastodon looked down at her with love in his eyes.
“Did it work honey?” The Mastodon asked.
So this was her Nestor. This was the one she loved. The one she had chosen to spend the rest of her life with.
She cried a little, nodding at him.
“What’s wrong honey,” the Mastodon asked, “Why are you crying?”
“It’s just,” she choked, “I’m just so happy.”
So he was a Mastodon. That was okay. She could deal with that. He loved her.
She wracked her tiny frame with sobs.
“I love you Nestor,” she sobbed, “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, honey,” Nestor said, a giant salty tear forming in his eye. He caressed her with his trunk. “I love you too.”
| 2014-08-30T10:08:25 | 2014-08-30T08:42:53 | 75 | 41 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth, but end up being defeated by an incredibly ridiculous flaw (for example, they're like flies and don't realize you can't fly through windows).
EDIT: Oh come on guys, I said *incredibly* ridiculous flaw. No need to make it so serious or subtle! Go all out with something outrageous! | We were ready. As ready as we could be.
When we had first received the transmission, humanity had been jubilant. Contact with alien life. Contact with *intelligent* alien life.
When we managed to translate the message we were less happy. It was a message of hate and genocide. Full of malice and superiority.
We had prepared as best we could, but they had the power to travel the stars. Would mere bullets even stand against them?
On the day of their arrival I sat in a foxhole I had dug with my own hands gripping my grandfather's old shotgun, watching a thousand flaming meteors enter our atmosphere. Where would they land? Where would the first battles be fought?
I heard the first impact in the distance, but I was more interested in the one that seemed to be heading directly for me. I curled up in the base of my pit as it streaked over my head, slamming into the ground beyond with a blast of heat, shaking the ground beneath me.
I cautiously poked me head over the edge, gun ready to fire upon the first sign of movement. I stayed that way for five minutes. Nothing happened. Thirty. The heat from the landing began to cool, and the small fires scattered here and there burned themselves out.
Against my better judgement, I crawled out of my hole and stalked (as best as I could) toward the landing sight.
It was a wreck. Burned to a crisp and crushed near flat, it only vaguely resembled something that could be considered a ship.
I later found that of the one and a half million ships that entered the atmosphere not a single one had actually survived to land. And with that, humanity won its first interstellar war.
-Peter Bosker, veteran of the ten minute war
| "This planet is now ours," said the strange being exiting the spaceship. It had just landed in the middle of a crowded roadway, bringing all traffic to a halt. "We are the Flow. We flow from planet to planet expanding our rightful ruling over the universe."
"You picked the wrong planet!" A man from the crowd yelled, who had exited his car. Running full force toward the Flow representative, several other people followed. The being extended a hand-like appendage and a device materialized, which closely resembled a hair dryer.
"We picked the right planet," the being said, aiming the device toward the incoming protesters. A wide beam was emitted, instantly vaporizing them mid run.
Panic finally set into the crowd. People started running away, while others jumped back in their cars and tried to weave through the other deserted vehicles. The being watched delightfully.
"Drop the weapon!" a voice called. The being turned around and saw dozens of armed military, with their machine guns trained in its direction. The being aimed its weapon toward them, which prompted a barrage of bullets. The bullets disintegrated in the air well before reaching their target.
A few blocks away, a man was driving, his 5 year old daughter buckled in a car seat behind him. *What is going on around here?* He could have sworn he heard bullets. As he approached the area with the spaceship, a car came plowing toward him on the wrong side of the road.
"What the hell!" he said, slamming on the brakes and swerving to the side of the road, crashing into a street sign. "Are you OK?" He asked his daughter, turning around to check on her.
"I'm fine, Daddy," she said. "What's that?" She continued, pointing the the strange being still standing in the doorway of the spaceship, shooting a weapon at onlookers and the military. The man turned back to his car in a panic. He unbuckled his daughter and carried her out of the car.
"We have to go now," he said, trying to remain calm.
"What is that?" The being said, now suddenly standing right next to the man and his daughter.
"It's my daughter," the man said, terrified.
"Give me the daughter." The being reached out toward her.
"You're a big meanie," the girl said.
"Ah! What is that horrifying sound?" The being stepped back, disoriented.
"Leave me and my daddy alone!" The being fell over, a green ooze spilling from its ears.
Several military men made their way to scene. One of them, who had witnessed the altercation, smiled at the girl.
"Thanks, you're a hero!" he said. Just then, the sky darkened. Everyone looked up and saw thousands of spaceships descending into the city. The military man activated his com unit. "Somebody tell me where the closest kindergarten is located."
| 2014-10-10T09:37:39 | 2014-10-10T09:27:18 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | For the last year, this is how we have lived. The slow, but ever-moving storm around us. For days, we would walk ceaselessly until we reached the leading edge of the eye. Then we would be able to make camp for a few weeks until the trailing edge caught up to us again.
When the government began their weather control program, the whole world was behind it. We looked forward to the moderate winters, the year round growing seasons, and the mountain skiing in July. The few people that saw this coming were written off as crackpots.
But it only took 10 years to prove the crackpots right. It started slowly, the sudden hurricanes popping up out of nowhere, the stray tornado that followed the planned rainstorms. That was how I'd lost my parents. The government said it was a fluke, but they became more frequent within months.
Eventually, the tornados disappeared but the hurricanes got stronger. Soon, any cities within a hundred miles of the coastlines were decimated. As people started moving inland, the riots and killings began. The looting and ration-hoarding was expected, but as the storms grew even stronger, moving further inland, people started trying to find any reprieve. A storm shelter, a leftover Cold War bunker, mountain caves. These were the only places you could be safe.
Then came the big storm. It started in the Atlantic and moved west, towards North America, destroying everything in its path. It moved so slowly, it took six months to cross the ocean. By the time it reached land, the eye was almost 250 miles across. The winds topped 150 miles an hour, ripping houses apart and tearing trees from the ground.
I was living in upstate New York when the front edge hit. Some of the neighbors had a storm shelter where we rode out the storm. We thought that it would dissipate when it hit land, but that wasn't the case. It just kept coming.
After two months underground, we heard the winds stop. After a couple more days of nothing, we risked going topside. The devastation was utter and complete. In the west, we could see the wall of clouds,maybe only twenty miles away, and we knew the storm had passed. Thank god! We scavenged what we could and brought it back to the shelter, our home base while we rebuilt.
We quickly erected some simple shelters from lumber scraps. We watched as the storm moved slowly westward until it seemed a distant memory. We quickly hit the lull after the storm. But, that too was short lived.
After a few weeks, the skies in the east began to darken once more. The winds slowly began to rise. We knew what was coming. The clear skies didn't mean the storm was over, we were merely in the middle of it. The eye of the storm had grown so large, and it was moving so slowly, that we were spared for weeks.
We knew we couldn't last through another storm, so we took a few days to pack what we could carry, and moved on. We were one of the lucky groups. We had no infirm, no elderly, nothing to slow us down. We caught up with, and passed, several groups that did. I hate to think of what happened when the storm overtook them.
This is how we've lived. A few weeks on the march, a few weeks of rest, always trying to stay ahead of the storm. As I write this note, we sit at the edge of the Pacific Ocean. The storm is catching up to us.
Some have decided to sail the ocean, building boats out of whatever scraps they can find. Not me. The eye may be calm, but the waves are still there and they will destroy the rickety crafts quickly. This is how I will die. I can hear the waves crashing below me, the jagged rocks offering me a quick demise. Perhaps I will see you in a better world. | “...LEAVE HIM, HE'S NOT WAKING!”
I opened my eyes—but the world was still dark. I tried to scream but when the sand started to fill my lungs I started coughing and quickly had to cover my mouth with the fabric of my hoodie so that I could cough without inhaling more of the sand.
It was the first time I had been by myself in probably all of my existence. The eye had gotten smaller day after day, and although the elder said that it was just a seasonal thing, none of the laymen had believed him. The edge, my fellows had abandoned me at the edge and left me for dead. I almost tried screaming again, but another cough kept me from it. I started crawling like mad. I had to still be close enough to the eye that I wasn't being torn to bits, but the noise that was churning in my ear and the crap that was flying around me told me that I wouldn't be safe if I took my time relaxing. If I got up and ran I might make it, but the likelihood that I would just get picked up in a stray gust of wind and carried deeper into the storm was too high for my liking.
I crawled for what seemed like hours, then days, then weeks, with the landscape around me getting no lighter. I cursed my luck. We all knew that the edge was as simple as death to us, yet me and my clan hadn't heeded the warning of the tribe when we got to close so that we could hunt the elusive Wurm. The Wurms were the only things we knew that could move freely between the edge and the eye, and their tough skin was perfect for utensils, armors, and weapons.
“We'll be the kings of the tribe!”, one of my clansmen had said.
“...Too bad you guys left me for dead.” I wish I could mutter, but just ended up thinking to myself.
As the time wore on, I began to notice a scratching feeling in my throat and also that my arms and legs were beginning to get less responsive. I had been lucky enough to not be hit by any flying rocks on the way, but all the tiny scratches that had found their way onto my body had taken their toll, and I began to have to take short pauses in-between my strides, realizing this was putting me all the more away from the possibility of making it back to the other side. I thought back to my life, the things I would miss, the people who I feel would break my heart if I concentrated on for too long, and I began to wonder if they would miss me as much as I would miss them. It was almost an unspoken rule that once someone was swallowed by the edge, that was their funeral then and there. There was no mourning, no time to be sad, nothing. Time like that was better spent moving, because the edge catches you if you slow down for too long. As I thought about this, how I would most likely not be missed, how everything I had done till now comes up to simply running away from something I could not beat, how the only thing awaiting me in this perennial darkness was death, I didn't notice the steepness of the land changing, until I slid down what felt like a whirlpool, knocking into what felt like lead and passing out on a bed of sand.
Now if you are reading this, most likely you did not end up outside of the storm, and you stumbled upon this after the eye happened upon this location. Look around you. See the tunnels. These weren't made by some beast. These were made by man. Before us, before the tribes began their everlasting journey to extinction within the storm, there were people thriving, living underground. I don't know what caused them to leave, but you can finally stop, you can rest, you do not have to travel anymore! I tried to move and see what else there was to offer, but on the way down, I broke my legs, and I could no longer move. It took all my remaining energy to write this note. Please if you are reading this, end our struggle. We can change, we can prosper, we no longer have to ignore the deaths of the elderly and the weak as they are taken by the edge. Please heed my plea.
Sincerly,
Damasus.
--- Billy crumpled the letter, tossing it back among the bones and the sands. “Don't tell me how to live my life gramps,” he snickered. He was surrounded by massive tunnels, and the other members of his clan were also making their way down with him.
“We're going to raid these tunnels for all the useful crap, and then we're going to get outta here in style!” Billy declared as his fellow clan members cheered, marching down each of the tunnels.
And deep within, the 2nd executioner of man stirred.
********************************
P.S. It's my first post here, so feedback would be nice. | 2015-02-07T18:52:18 | 2015-02-07T15:43:28 | 20 | 10 |
[WP]: Humanity has developed a hypersensitivity to puns, experiencing physical pain when exposed to especially bad wordplays. As no physical damage happens, it is used to penalize petty criminals. This is your job. You are the Punisher. | The judge called in the next defendant. Mr. Cruz had been caught shoplifting. The outcome of the trial was pretty obvious, given the video footage shown in evidence. Amazing how a one legged man was able to run from the store security so quickly. The trial was over in a flash, and soon it was time for Joe to get to work. Joe sighed. Thankfully, this was the last Punishment of a pun filled day. Joe, the *Pun*isher, absolutely loved his job, but sometimes it all got a little tiresome.
"Mr. Cruz, let's try to make this quick. Thievery, huh? From someone like you? When I first heard of your case, I thought they were just pulling my leg. At any rate, since you've been found guilty, it's clear you didn't have a leg to stand on."
Cruz groaned.
"Did you honestly think you could get away with it? Must have been pretty painful waiting for the other shoe to drop!"
"Noooo...noooo please." Cruz was pleading now.
"You know it's too late to plead with me now. Soon enough you'll start to scream and rage. You'll be *hopping* mad!"
Joe had predicted accurately. The thief seethed with anger.
"Hey now, don't tear your hair out! You're already in a pretty hairy situation."
Cruz started convulsing involuntarily, as his eyes rolled back into his head.
"Uh-oh, this man might need a doctor. He's shaking like a thief!"
"That's enough, Joe!" The judge bellowed.
"You're right..." Joe donned his green Shrek mask, signifying the end of the Punishment.
"It's all Ogre now."
| *door opens to interrogation room*
Interrogator: "So..."
*door closes, interrogator sits across table from convict*
Interrogator: "This is the TWEED who tried to shoplift from the fabric store, eh?"
Merino: "*yelp of pain*"
Interrogator: "I understand you tried to FLEECE from the scene."
Merino: "Ow!"
Interrogator: "And then when the officers arrived, you tried to COP out of the crime! But once they had their flashlight's RAYON you, it didn't matter HEATHER or not you tried to FLEECE!"
Merino: "Augh! You already used that one!"
Interrogator: "I MAKE THE RULES, YOU THICK(-thin) RAILROAD RIBBON! What, are you going to SILK about it?"
Merino: "No, please!"
Interrogator: "I understand you're not the most physically fit kid, Merino. Did you get a RUNNING STITCH?"
Merino: "Let me go!"
Interrogator: "Boy, I bet you wish you could just go back in time."
Merino: "...That didn't have a pun in it."
Interrogator: "Back in time. To Yesterday."
Merino: "..."
Interrogator: "Yesterday is a song by the Beatles."
Merino: "Oh no..."
Interrogator: "Do you know who was a member of the Beatles?"
Merino: "Please don't..."
Interrogator: "John..."
Merino: "*wince*"
Interrogator: "LINEN!"
Merino: "AUGGGHHHH!!!"
Interrogator: "ISN'T THAT JUST A STITCH?"
Merino: "*indistinct screaming*"
Interrogator: "DOESN'T THAT JUST RIBBON TO YOU?"
Merino: "PLEASE STOP!"
Interrogator: "WOOLDN'T YOU LIKE TO HEAR ANOTHER?"
Merino: "*slurred speech* Pleass...IKAT take anymore..."
Interrogator: "Ouch! What the FELT was that?"
Merino: "Ow! This is SHEER torture!"
Interrogator: "I won't be SUEDE by this!"
Merino: "TWILL this go on forever?!"
Interrogator: "FABRIC!"
Merino: "...That wasn't a pun."
Interrogator: "Sorry, I got stressed there. Couldn't think straight."
Merino: "This has been a bad experience for both of us."
Interrogator: "Definitely. Let's start over."
Merino: "Right. Hey, what's your name?"
Interrogator: "Terry."
Merino: "Oh no...."
Interrogator: "Terry Cloth."
| 2015-02-08T07:36:48 | 2015-02-08T07:21:06 | 128 | 80 |
[WP] Write a story in which the last line is a common phrase, such as, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," but when we get to that line, it should have a totally different meaning from the common one. | "Dad, when can we go?"
"Soon Theresa, be patient. You know we have to stay until Emma's mom has performed"
"I don't want to wait for her, can't I just go now? We've been sitting here for an hour"
"You can't leave Theresa, pass the time somehow. You could go backstage and talk to Emma if you feel like it"
"Emma only talks about stupid stuff. Plus she's like half my age. She's by far the dumbest girl I've ever talked to!"
"Keep your voice down okay! Were eating dinner with Emma and her mom, and I would like you to endure, at least until Emma's mom is finished with her performance."
"Emma and her fat ugly mom isn't even eating! They've been backstage half the time we've been here! I'm not waiting another minute! Why are we doing this again?!"
"Keep your voice down Theresa! I've spent countless lunches with this woman out of pure pity for her hopeless dream. She got me the job for christs sake! I figure the least I owe her is a fucking dinner where my fully grown daughter acts like a fully grown person!"
"That job was the worst decision you ever did! I'm leaving!"
"Goddamn it Theresa! Sit your butt down! This is not over until the fat lady sings!"
| It's strange to think that many people covet an eternal existence, seeking to lengthen and cheat that eternal clock which advances forward every second of every day. Many people try and stave this off, using fad diets, seeking strange plants from the amazon, turning to deities in the hope that they can stop, pause or slow the clock that advances ever forward each day.
Maria was one such person, seeking to change her fate and alter the parameters of her existence in this timeline. She had taken a route not sought by many in the current age of technology. The discovery of the book was a defining moment in her life, giving her the hope she had desperately been seeking for over twenty years since her 16th birthday. It had cost her a lot of time, friendships, and lives to finally lay her hands on the book. The book that could finally change everything for her.
At 16, Maria had realised that her life was short, incredibly short. Her quest to find a way to remedy that problem had taken her deep into archives in many libraries across Europe and Asia, she had struggled to find anything of use until three years ago, she had stumbled across a small red book in a village on the outskirts of China.
The book had finally confirmed for her something she had known since she was three. Magic existed, and there was a way to wield the powers of nature to cause effects she willed in her mind.
She had started learning the spells the book had taught her, and was beginning to craft her own spells last year, when finally she had a realisation. she could finally bend the powers of nature to lengthen her own life. Her dream was going to become a reality. Finally, the burden of mortality would be lifted, and she would be free to explore the word, and the universe without having to worry about that goddamn advancing clock anymore.
And so, today, Maria finally was ready. The preparations had been made. The sacrifices ready. Runes, written, candles arranged, Maria was finally going to forge the power of nature into herself to finally achieve an everlasting life.
As she began to cast the spell, a familiar feeling washed over her. A feeling of power. A feeling of fear.
It was too late to stop the ritual, and as she saw the smiling grin of the forsaken, she finally was able to embrace something she had known her entire life.
You only live once. | 2015-05-16T05:45:02 | 2015-05-16T04:38:30 | 337 | 98 |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | It has become an addiction, more than killing ever was. It has consumed me.
When you picture "serial killer," I'm the first thing that springs into your mind. I tortured animals as a child, and I liked it. My father abused me relentlessly, second only to my mother. I eventually killed him... and her. I took a life for the first time when I was only fifteen years old: a girl from my high school who wanted nothing more than to have a loving boyfriend. She was willing to do whatever I wanted up until I slid that knife into her neck.
I don't exactly know when the bubbles started. It could have even been that first time, and maybe they were just too small to notice. Or maybe I was so overwhelmed and excited from finally giving in to my urges that I didn't even see them. I *do* remember them appearing on my fifth kill, when I dragged a jogger in the park into the bushes and took his life. They seemed to seep out of his skin like sweat, then form into bubbles that hung over his body. I popped one with my little finger, and I felt a sudden rush of energy and power. I've tried a number of different drugs, but there was *nothing* like this. I needed more.
In the beginning, I picked my targets carefully. I had my arranged ritual. My preferred type was men in positions of authority: cops, soldiers, government officials, etc. The more important the better. I'm sure some psychologist would link it to my issues with my father, if I ever visited a shrink. But the more I killed, the larger the bubbles grew, and the sense of euphoria that I got from them became far more potent. Soon, I didn't care *who* my victims were. I just needed more of them.
I "leveled up" for the first time on October 10, 2012, kill #23. He was a middle school principal named Mr. Simon. The bubbles that came from his skin weren't red; they were golden and shimmering and shiny. I popped one, and practically collapsed as waves of pleasure washed over me. "Congratulations," a voice boomed through my mind from nowhere and everywhere at once. "You have reached Level 2!" Visions swam in front of my eyes as I lay stunned in the grass next to the corpse. The hallucinations promised incredible powers: super strength, controlling flames... like a comic book superhero. The visions asked me to choose, and there was just something about the whole experience that made it feel *real*. This wasn't the same as other hallucinagens.
I chose "Camouflage," and the visions vanished. I was left alone in that wide cornfield with Mr. Simon's body, just as usual. Well, not as usual: glancing down at my own body, I noticed that I was slowly disappearing. I could see cornstalks through my own legs.
-----
It's been three years since I first leveled up, and tonight's kill should bring me to level 12. It gets harder and harder every time; more and more bodies are required. The euphoria that I once felt upon absorbing the bubbles is now only a hunger, leaving me desperately craving more. I'm up to one kill every few days, and I've only been able to escape the detection of law enforcement thanks to my fantastic new abilities. But I've certainly been following the nationwide manhunt for me pretty closely.
I wait silently outside the VA hospital, blended perfectly into the beige concrete of the parking structure. These facilities are a pretty common hunting ground for me, now that I've realized that soldiers seem to grant the most experience. Maybe it's the fact that they've killed too. Maybe I'm getting the bubbles from them and from their victims.
My selected victim is slowly shuffling back to his car. He's got a pretty severe limp, a souvenir from his tour in Iraq. Not that he could escape me even if he was healthy; my super speed from Level 5 is amazing. But that IED certainly made him an easy target. I used to thoroughly research my victims and learn everything about that, but I don't have time for that anymore. Now, a cursory search on Google is enough. And I might have to give that up soon when I begin killing daily. I know it's inevitable.
*beep beep*. His unlocking car fills the silence of the parking structure, and the lights flash. I worry for half a second that they'll give me away, but that's just a vestige from before I got my powers. I'm nigh invincible now.
He shuffles over to the car door, and I leave my perch. I sneak up behind him, draw my blade, and position it right over his back. Most victims tend to hear me coming when I'm this close to them, but maybe the IED deafened him as well. Poor guy; this is almost too easy. I plunge the blade down... into nothing. I can *see* the knife enter his body, but there's no resistance. It's just air.
My hand is now sticking out from his back, and the knife seems to be just be sitting in the middle of his torso. What the hell? I raise my arm to try again; still nothing. The soldier is trying to unlock his car like nothing is amiss at all.
I'm grabbed from behind, and I feel cold steel pressed against my neck. The soldier in front of me shimmers and vanishes.
"Illusion perk," a voice whispers in my ear. "Level 16. Too bad you never made it that high."
The knife cuts my jugular, and blood begins to pour down my chest in a sickening, gory waterfall. And I can see golden bubbles rising from my own skin. | Human history has told us we kill because of hate, because of differences, that we fire on our kind for peace or some high-minded goal. We've always held each other at gunpoint, whether literal or behind two large maps of the world with blinking lights. Today, we come to know that as peace, but before the words that passed those lips were stalemate. There was no difference between the two back then, but now we've forged one. Out of sheer necessity.
You see, peacetime is only a construct that exists because of war. Peace was a forgotten definition until the night of November eleventh, two-thousand and fifteen. See, that very night, the world seemed to tick over into another dimension, without even realising. Something cosmic happened, is all I can describe it as. The veil was lifted, some would say, the rules were changed. Murderers, told they were spurned forward by some sense of progress, continued. Serials grew larger, populations shrunk.
People became aware of what it meant to kill. What it meant to harvest someone's flesh for your own material gain. It was for some reason, some galactic hiccup that launched a bubble into the quaint stream of time, that all our realisations came at the same time.
I nursed the revolver in my hand, wiping the debris off the badges one by one. They were little pins, clips that the first shot had walked in with, claiming they gave him power. "Goddamnit, Wes, they're just pins," is what my mother had said, and what I said now to the morning breeze. I was still in my own home, a high vantage point in the shape of an upstate apartment. It was just me now, though. I'd collected their things, whatever offerings to the game they had. Each one was different, marking an individual for who they were, they were the modern passports. We called them pins.
Down there in the streets the thugs bashed at each other with upended signposts, shielding themselves with trashlids and broken hubcaps, caved in one side.
I winced as a mailbox came crashing down on a girl's head. Her arms went limp immediately.
I ducked, shuriken shot over me and cracked the window. The breeze greeted me, as did she, "Pins, love." Two words, usually it was one when you met someone new, but this time the gangs were feeling especially nice.
I had to think of something witty, otherwise it was all for naught, "You'll have to pry them off me." Well crap, there goes that opportunity. Screams and shouts from below welcome my fate if I choose to jump. "Oh boy," I swerved and flung the revolver out, finger wrestling the trigger.
She was gone. I stood up, my eyes browsing the wooden panelling along the condo's pillars. A flash of pink, and I fired. Straight from the hip. I'd like to think of myself as a sharpshooter from the old west, but my aim disagreed. "Fuck," I cursed as my flatscreen heaved with a mighty groan and crashed onto the floor. It took my Eastwood movies with it, like a wall of dominoes coming down.
"Nice aim," she said, from somewhere to my left. Another shot, and a kettle blew steam. I'd like to think it was good I was hitting something, at least. A long, drawn out chuckle, with the sound of bubbles somewhere in her throat. "How did you survive this long?"
Oh this was a good opportunity. "Because I know the truth, little girl."
"Little girl?" She brought up her huge pigtails, coloured pink for some odd reason. Then she ducked as a painting on the far wall decided it had had enough with hanging.
"Yes, all this X.P nonsense that's been going around,"
She hefted herself up again, arms somewhat shaking from the adrenalin. "What, that the government made it up? Or is it a-" and ducked, there goes my favourite mug, "biological weapon?" My arm recoiled, my second favourite mug.
"Actually my favourite conspiracy was the one guy who thought we were all in an insane asylum, and the only way free was killing each other."
"Right," a pursed-lipped whackamole, "You do realise that he killed everyone else in his litle cult and got away with a mountain of pins?"
"Yep." No one understood the beauty of that one. "But really, that's not the truth."
"And what is?" she jumped back up, straight into the path of a bullet.
"Finally," I said, lowering my arms as the bullet travelled through her nose. She coughed and screamed for a moment, nothing that wouldn't be masked by the bloody war down below. My aim was true, she was still alive. It was not a fluke. Not at all. "The truth, little girl, is that you just have to believe." I jumped over the kitchen counter, nicking the back of my pants on the sharp corner. Damn, it is hard to find a tailour. Sliding across the marble, I landed right beside her with a thump, like we were two peas in a pod, hiding from the gunmen that had just stormed our inn.
But no, it wasn't that. I pressed the barrel to her forehead, and whispered. "It isn't that we get X.P from killing, pinhead. It's that we've just realised we do." She was grinning, because there were footsteps from the stairwell. She was only a scout, it seemed. It was nice that people could band together in times of trouble. "They're here, aren't they?" She nodded.
All throughout human history, I told myself as the slug entered her frontal lobe, causing her last few words to be a jumble of forgotten tongues, we've killed each other. We told ourselves it was something high-minded, or something important. That we fought for causes, that we fought for something real, no matter how intangible.
I stood up from behind the counter, wearing my secondhand blazer across myself like a poncho. If it was my last stand, I would like to go out in style. The truth, at the end of the day was, we killed everyone for X.P. All the damn time, it shouldn't have taken us this long to realise it.
I aimed straight at the loosened doorframe, hand on the hammer. To those who say that's impossible, human technology and progress has been in leaps and bounds because of the abolition and denial of such horrible things.
But to that, I say, with my pistol in my hand: How did you think we got that far? | 2015-11-11T08:18:22 | 2015-11-11T07:52:38 | 1,155 | 11 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | It was the first day of school.
I was so excited.
New students every year.
I had such high hopes.
The kids would love me.
They would sit, be comfortable, and learn.
The first day came and went.
Class after class.
I was ignored.
No one wants the chair in front.
I wish I was a concert seat. | "For the hundredth time, my name is not supposed to be a sly reference to my genitalia!"
"Look, kid, no one's gonna believe you. Fact of the matter is, you're either goddamn brilliant or denser than a neutron star for choosing that handle, and it doesn't matter. You have it, and your job from now on is writing euphemistic copy for The Shallot."
"I don't even know what that is."
"Someone thought it would be cute to spoof a satire site, but make the humor about dick jokes instead of, you know, anything actually funny."
"What if I'm no good at that?"
"Then you'll fit right in."
"It's just my name, for Christ's sake! I'm a big dude and it's my literal, actual name."
"Jesus, you really are that dense, aren't you?"
"I can't help how people see my name."
"... I don't know what to tell you. Actually, I do. Go watch everything the Wayans Brothers ever made, really soak in the adolescent filth, and you're well on your way to being an expert dick joke slinger."
"I can't afford that."
"Kid, we have them on the server here. There's a room where they're always playing."
"What's it called?"
"What?"
"The room where it's playing."
"It's the fucking viewing room."
"I just thought maybe it was called 'The Ball Pit' or something."
"Are you fucking with me?"
"I might be."
"Get out of my office." | 2016-02-22T09:42:54 | 2016-02-22T09:41:21 | 578 | 91 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | Eye tip me tophat. I wok in 2 de ofis bilding.
Gud dae maet. Me maets n me eet crumpits n sip tee cos we gents.
Luk o de dae to ye maet. Gohd saev de Kween n all de jaz.
Now eye wok hoem. Luvlee niet n all. Gud niet.
Mae B reed gud niet buk? Noe, eye cant reed. | I am the source.
The source of everything good, bad, holy, evil, light, dark.
I am the good, the bad, and the ugly. I am the punk and I
am the .44 Magnum and I am feeling lucky. I am not for a few dollars more because I am all dollars.
I am the beauty and the beast. I am the genie and I am the wishes.
I am the car, and I am the road. I am the pothole too. I am the twinge you feel in your back. I am the swear word that escapes your cavity ridden mouth. I am the cavity.
I am the bow and I am the arrow. But I am not the target, because I am the source. Get your act together man!
I am. It is me. The source. The source of all knowledge, of all wisdom and of all folly. I am the donut, and I am the hole. I am what they teach you at Harvard Business school, and I am what they don't. I know how to make friends and influence people. When you die in a game and you don't know how, I am the source of your death. I am also the violators of mothers and sisters everywhere.
I am the butterfly and I am the effect. I am the wall and I am the builder. I am the health care coverage and I am the illness. Yes, I am also the medical bill.
Ask me anything.
| 2016-02-22T09:49:34 | 2016-02-22T09:46:55 | 541 | 104 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | Eye tip me tophat. I wok in 2 de ofis bilding.
Gud dae maet. Me maets n me eet crumpits n sip tee cos we gents.
Luk o de dae to ye maet. Gohd saev de Kween n all de jaz.
Now eye wok hoem. Luvlee niet n all. Gud niet.
Mae B reed gud niet buk? Noe, eye cant reed. | "For the hundredth time, my name is not supposed to be a sly reference to my genitalia!"
"Look, kid, no one's gonna believe you. Fact of the matter is, you're either goddamn brilliant or denser than a neutron star for choosing that handle, and it doesn't matter. You have it, and your job from now on is writing euphemistic copy for The Shallot."
"I don't even know what that is."
"Someone thought it would be cute to spoof a satire site, but make the humor about dick jokes instead of, you know, anything actually funny."
"What if I'm no good at that?"
"Then you'll fit right in."
"It's just my name, for Christ's sake! I'm a big dude and it's my literal, actual name."
"Jesus, you really are that dense, aren't you?"
"I can't help how people see my name."
"... I don't know what to tell you. Actually, I do. Go watch everything the Wayans Brothers ever made, really soak in the adolescent filth, and you're well on your way to being an expert dick joke slinger."
"I can't afford that."
"Kid, we have them on the server here. There's a room where they're always playing."
"What's it called?"
"What?"
"The room where it's playing."
"It's the fucking viewing room."
"I just thought maybe it was called 'The Ball Pit' or something."
"Are you fucking with me?"
"I might be."
"Get out of my office." | 2016-02-22T09:49:34 | 2016-02-22T09:41:21 | 541 | 91 |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | "Saytzev, you're a real obstinate son of a bitch," Brinwell said. He nervously chewed on a hangnail. "You know what public sentiment is like right now. Damn the scientists, they reached too far and dug too deep, et cetera, et cetera. We'll be lucky if they only burn down our facility. At worst they're going to lynch us."
Saytzev barely looked up at him. "And you would do otherwise? Cold feet, Brinwell? Are you going to betray the project now, at its most crucial stage?"
"Good lord, at least try not to sound like a fanatic," Brinwell said. He glanced out the window, at the crowd of protestors not thirty feet away from them. BE QUIET, the signs read. Crude images of parabolic antennas crossed out. "This is - You know damn well this is tempting fate."
"Not at all," Saytzev grunted. "We have already been found out. The, ah, what is the phrase? The genie is out of the bottle. And now we must deal with this accursed djinn." He tapped a key and for a moment the music of a theremin flooded the room. He closed his eyes briefly. "Ah. Beauty. An ineluctable assertion of our existence." He flipped the music off. "Prepare to broadcast."
"It's just-" Brinwell said. His brow was damp with sweat. "Damn it, Saytzev, you know the risks just as well as I do! We're the Indians signalling Columbus. And the Message-"
"The Message is garbage!" Saytzev blurted out. "Nonsensical. Without details. Which broadcasts are dangerous? Who is the enemy? From what should we hide?" He threw up his hands. "A six word broadcast, telling us nothing but to be quiet, be fearful!" His footsteps paced a trail between the consoles. "And for what purpose? Yes, fine, assume a superpredator civilization. You, the wise quiet world, have been hiding from it for generations. You hear a new, noisy planet calling its attention. What would you do? Stay silent, and allow it to be eaten? Or, against all logic, raise your voice and call out 'BE QUIET!'" He slammed his hands back down on the desk. "This is madness, Brinwell. I do not deal in madness."
"No," Brinwell murmured. "You deal in provocation."
"I am not content to remain ignorant," Saytzev said. He flicked the last switch. Unseen to the protesting crowd outside, a radio signal was beamed out into the cosmos. "Whoever sent the Message, they told us one thing of value at least. They told us their location. And now, we will scream into the heavens. We will demand our answers. We will paint out their location to anyone who is listening. And one way or another, we will force them to act." | Andrew sat at his computer screen watching the the playback from the deep space radio telescope. The familiar sound of static poured through his headphones. He took a long drink from the lukewarm coffee he had been nursing over the last hour when something changed in the static.
A whisper in an ocean of noise. Andrew almost dismissed it until he heard it again.
"What the..."
He twisted the frequency tuning knob and shut his eyes. Crackling noise, like sitting by a weak campfire.
"Stop."
Andrew knocked over his coffee cup as he jumped out of his chair. The word had come through crystal clear, there was no mistaking it. He clutched the headphones to his ears and waited.
The ethereal voice came through the static again, "he is...coming."
*What? Who is coming?*
Andrew played with the frequency knob again hoping to cut out the background noise, after a few seconds his hand froze on the knob.
"He is coming for you, you should have kept to yourself now he has found you. We tried to stop him, but it has cost us dearly."
Andrew could hear the pain in the man's voice clearly.
"This is the Captain of the Arbiter, you are on your own now Earth...may he have mercy on you all."
The transmission ended.
Andrew scrambled for his phone, he had to call the Director. The phone rang once before it was picked up by the Director.
"Sir, we have an emergency-"
"I know," the Director interrupted.
*How could he possibly know?*
"Forty years..." the Director whispered.
"Sir?"
"Turn the news on Andrew...good luck." The phone went silent.
Andrew spun in his chair and turned the TV on. Every channel was the same thing.
"NASA has discovered an object on a collision course with Earth traveling at incredible speed. Preliminary imaging has returned this" the newscaster paused as an image was brought up on the screen. It was a blurry photo of what looked like a man riding a motorcycle.
"The President of the United States is going to be making a statement."
The video feed switched to the President sitting behind a large wooden desk. Andrew noticed that the room was supposed to look like the Oval office but it was off somehow, the light coming through the windows behind the President didn't seem natural.
"America. It is with a heavy heart that I am addressing you today."
The President sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes.
"I am going to be honest with you," he began again, his tone completely different. Fear was plain in his voice.
"I do not know what to expect when he arrives, but it will not be good. I'm sorry. Hug your family, try to get underground, pray."
The video feed of the fake Oval office cut out and returned to a stunned news anchor.
"That was the President of the United States...uh..." there was a long awkward pause as the news anchor searched for something to say.
Andrew stood from his chair and numbly walked out of the office. Years of searching for something and he had found it. *Too late.*
He stepped outside and looked into the sky, the cool night air sent a shiver down Andrew's body. He saw a bright blue streak shooting through the star filled sky. If he hadn't seen the image on the news he would have thought it was a meteor. He watched it get closer and closer, the blue light intensifying every second. The entire Earth felt the thunderclap as it entered the atmosphere. Seconds later he felt the impact. The Earth shifted beneath his feet throwing him to the ground. An explosion of dust billowed out of the massive crater that used to be New York.
The Earth trembled as if it understood.
Dirk had returned.
---
I'm stuck on writing about a character I created a few days ago that I fell in love with. [Dirk the Star Rider](https://www.reddit.com/r/Written4Reddit/comments/4w166x/part_1_wp_you_possess_the_very_rare_quality_of/)
| 2016-08-07T04:24:57 | 2016-08-07T03:35:35 | 326 | 60 |
[WP] A curse causes you to transform into a building under the light of the full moon. This secret ability helps you solve underwhelming supernatural crimes as an FBI consultant. You are: Steve Depot, the were-house. | My first one, so be kind on me :)
So, here am I, standing up right next to an old dilapidated church, a small unobtrusive building waiting for the Gang(what an unimaginative name!) to show up. No, you are not dreaming, this is a building talking to you, or to put in correctly, a Warehouse.
You see, I, Steve Depot have been cursed to transform into a building (not a wolf, a building) under the light of the full moon. An entire night if doing nothing but starting at whatever's ahead of me, and more importantly, eavesdropping.
You see, no one really notices an extra house in an already wrecked and abandoned neighborhood(and having a large hearing radius helps).All I have to do is station myself near a random meeting spot and wait till they meet up and spell out all their plans to me.
Today's session is no different. The Gang will smuggling in a huge shipment of ammo and explosives next Monday. Imagine their astonishment when they are caught red handed by the FBI while in the act. That would be the 50th fish to get caught in my net.
And thus, I go undercover for the next 28 days( binge drinking, binge watching TV, binge eating, basically binge everything ), when I will get another juicy bit of information, and am under the spotlight again.
So the next time you see a house or building that hadn't been there before, don't brush it off ,and remember the age old proverb : "Even Walls have Ears". | Dave stood in the empty field and watched as the sky was tinted orange by the sunset. He sighed to himself as he thought about how he would go through the transformation again that night. It had started when he got a splinter on an old abandoned house that he could swear wasn't there the day before. That night he discovered that whenever the light of the full moon touched him, he would transform into a house. He wanted to just try to move on with his life and not go out during the full moon, but no. The FBI somehow thought that it was useful to have a guy who could transform into a house. He had been doing this for a year, it never got any better. Tonight they needed him to catch some crook who could steal every object in a house using telepathy. Dave sighed again as he shrugged off the cloak he used to avoid accidentally transforming. Then the moon appeared in the distance and the transformation started, he was fully transformed in mere minutes. After the transformation was complete several undercover officers went inside the house and prepared to spend the night there. Once they were all in Dave said "The transformation lasts until dawn, please make sure to leave before then. Also take your shoes off before you go on the carpet, and absolutely do not use the bathroom in here!" Several hours passed before the crook came inside to find several cops waiting for him and all the doors and windows sealed. The first thing he tried to do was run of course. Then for the next hour or so he was running through the house using his psychic abilities to avoid the cops while Dave played benny hill over the houses stereo. It was actually kinda entertaining, that is until Dave noticed that it was nearly dawn. He worriedly said "Uh, guys, I don't want to rush you or anything. But could you hurry up?" Hearing this the cops started frantically running after the criminal, they had him in psychic proof cuffs within minutes. Dave thought to himself "Wow, that was close!" However right at that second, before anyone could make it out, dawns first rays hit the field where Dave was stationed. He immediately began to transform back into a human, starting with the exits all disappearing. Then the transformation was over, and dave was standing in an empty field. His torso was stretched out to several times it's normal size, and it was moving almost like a cartoon depiction of a burlap sack that was used to kidnap someone . Muffled noises could be heard from within this expanded chest cavity. Dave said to himself "Great, guess I'm stuck like this for the next month." before walking away muttering about how he doesn't get paid enough for this. | 2016-11-07T00:05:44 | 2016-11-06T19:36:41 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. |
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Don Lime. Our top story tonight: life has been discovered on the outer-system planet Terrabulus. The 'aliens' are like humans in almost every way, save for the blue skin and long limbs. We've also just received word that local office worker John Abraham, age 29, has the binding legal certificate of ownership over the planet. Coming up next, our interview with the residents of Terrabulus.*"
John's girlfriend, Melissa, gasped and turned to him. "John... do you still have that certificate I gave you last year?"
"It's in my nightstand." John said, blasé as ever. It's like he didn't even care that he owned an alien planet.
Stumbling with the grace of a deaf ballerina, Melissa rushed up the stairs to retrieve the certificate, spilling her mug of black coffee on the white carpet.
"Aww, look what you did! Now the carpet needs to be shampooed, Melissa!" John shouted after her, half chuckling. Shaking his head, he went back to his tablet, mumbling something about a "Wobbly table."
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Wolf Spritzer. Our top story tonight, my interview with an alien resident of Terrabulus. Let's go ahead and show that.*"
On screen, a blue man sat in a leather armchair. His expression remained calm, though if you focused, you could see a faint smile.
"*So, you live on Terrabulus? What is your occupation?"
"*Indeed, though we simply refer to it as Terra. I am the current Ehdes, or leader, of the Planetary League.*"
"*Ok, good to hear. Now... uh... how does Mr. Abraham's ownership of the planet concern the league? How do you feel about this?*"
"*We find it refreshing. It is hard to put into your common language, as Terran is a more expressive language, but we find this to be a great boon for both of our planets. As such, we have contacted the owner of our planet via the internet.*"
The reporter gasped heavily, along with everyone else on the planet.
"*We have arranged a mutual deal with Mr. Abraham. A transport ship will land near his home for extraction at 14 hour sharp. As per his wishes, he will not be given a position of power on our planet, only a good home with a connection to your planet's internet database. He has also asked that we leave behind his family, including romantic partners.*"
A crashing noise could be heard from upstairs. "I can't find it!" Melissa shouted.
"Take all the time you need." John said, quietly. He smiled and nodded to himself. *1:59 PM*
*****
For more of my work, check out /r/Picklestasteg00d.
EDIT FOR GRAMMAR | There was a singular present on the table, a holo-document. Being my 30th birthday I expected something more but we were a family of meager means so whatever it was I was sure to like it.
My mother and father were staring at me expectantly, I put on my best smile and clicked the button on the side, as it whirled to life I looked at the holo in front of me, it was a deed to a planet.
I was disappointed but feigned happiness and thanked my parents for the gift while wondering in my head how I was supposed to get any use out of a planetary deed, it's not like it had life right?
I was wrong.
The next morning I woke up to a knock on my front door, it was my parents and they looked really excited, "did we win the lottery or something?" I asked them.
"Close" my mother replied
I gestured them into my apartment so they could tell me this apparently fantastic news.
"Turn on the TV!" my mother exclaimed
I did so and to my amazement, my planet had life on it!
I thought to myself, that this has to be some kind of joke, planetary deeds are a novelty,
Their not supposed to have life on them!
As I sat there aghast for a short time my mother and father were prancing around my apartment, apparently not realizing the real meaning of the situation.
Needing some time to think about what I was going to do about this, I got up and exited my apartment and sat outside on my front stairs, looking up at the stars from our glass domed city.
I wouldn't even know what to do with 1000 bitcoins much less an entire planet...
I suppose I could try to fly there and check it out but what if they don't like me?
What if I can't understand their language?
So many questions and no definite answers....
I got up and took a deep breath of the oxygenated air to calm myself and strided back into the room to find that my mother and father were still prancing about.
I cleared my throat to get their attention and told them bluntly, "we're going to my new planet!"
My mom and dad made some high pitched squeals but stopped for a second after seemingly realizing something,
"How are we getting there?" My dad asked
"Well, I'm the ruler of an entire planet now, they have to let us go there!"
A couple days later we flew out by rocket and visited the planet, it was a very harsh place, dry, cracked and ice in place of water.
How any species could be living here I didn't know.
Sure enough though, in the distance was a town built out of a type of metal no one on earth had seen before.
It was shiny like gold, but at the same time, it had a pattern like that of tree bark and it was a bluish gray color.
The inhabitants living there didn't seem too different from humans, save for extended heads, tentacles in place of hair and eyes the color of sulfur.
Trying to communicate with them was also quite easy.
They happened to be a telepathic species and were fascinated by me and my family, looking us up and down, meticulously examining us like we were display pieces for their living rooms.
Everything was going fine, better than fine even, until I revealed that I was the one who now owned their planet, instead of them being fascinated, they were now afraid.
They ran into their houses and locked their doors like you would see in an old Western.
Me and parents decided to leave at that point, we didn't want to be seen as monsters and I realized I wasn't prepared to be in a position of power.
When we returned home, we acted like nothing happened, i still have the holo deed in my home to this day, maybe one day I'll return there but for now, life on earth as an ordinary man suits me just fine. | 2017-01-01T13:54:55 | 2017-01-01T13:10:45 | 98 | 13 |
[WP] There are 2 humans left on Earth: you, and a crush you once asked out who said "I wouldn't date you if you were the last person on Earth" | I could see my neighbor approaching me with that same walk that had caused me to trip and spill my lunch tray all over the cafeteria floor in the third grade. As she walked, she held her eyes slightly downcast - like when you're walking down a long hallway and someone is walking down from the other way, you're the only two people, and it's too awkward to make eye contact.
Her eyes were..."beautiful blue, like the sky, like the seas, and my favorite blueberry slushie" was how I had described them in a poem I had written for her in the fourth grade. I didn't show her that poem until the sixth grade. She laughed and threw it in the trash.
She got closer and I could see that her hair was tied back in an intricately braided ponytail. The sun gleamed bright on high, and turned her blonde hair golden. She looked up and smiled with beautiful white teeth that I hadn't seen been yellow since she joined the cheerleading team in 5th grade.
Without asking, she came and sat with me on the porch and stared ahead, like I had been doing. I glanced at her - found the small mole on her neck that I loved; no bigger than a period- and then turned away.
I pointed at the sidewalk in front of her house. "Right there. I fell off my bike and broke my hand the first day I saw you in the front yard with your mom."
I could feel her looking at me. I guided my hand to the right, pointing at her lawn. "And that's where I sang love songs to you all-night in the 7th grade."
I dropped my hand and touched the small space on the porch beside me. "When I fell off and broke my hand, you laughed and you've been laughing at me ever since. When I sang to you, you never opened the window; never gave me any window of opportunity to get to know you. But you see this spot on the porch where I'm touching?"
She looked down at my hand, briefly, then back up at my face and nodded.
"This is where I had my first kiss. That night, in 8th grade, when you told me that you wouldn't date me if I was the last person on Earth...I cried. Right here. And some girl left the party, crossed the street, and sat right here with me. Cried with me. Comforted me and told me that you weren't worth spending so much energy and time over. I hated her. Because I didn't realize it then - but what she was saying was true. When she kissed me, I sat up and wiped my lips and told her to get off my porch and never to talk to me again.
For the next three days after that, I was mean to her...so...mean... But for some reason, she just kept smiling at me, doing little things for me, trying to make me laugh and...basically doing all the things I did to get you to like me.
Finally I just decided to get with her because I surely wasn't getting any attention from you. I had planned to just use her as a practice for if you suddenly had a change of heart. What I hadn't planned on...was falling in love with that girl.
Two weeks later, she was dead."
Her eyes widened. She knew who I was talking about. They had announced her name on the speakers in school.
She lifted her hand to touch mine, but I pulled away.
"In 8th grade," I continued. "...you told me you wouldn't date me if I was the last person alive. Well," I gestured around, "we are. And unless we find other people out here, somewhere, the human race is going to die with us. Because I don't want to date you, sleep with you, or any of that. I'll help you survive, but that's it. I know what love is, and you can't provide it to me."
Then I walked inside and quietly shut the door.
| "Well...well...well," Each word slid off Jay's tongue in a slow, deliberate manner as he looked at the woman standing in front of him. This wasn't just any woman though, this was *her*.
"Jay," Stacy said softly, "Let's not make this any more uncomfortable than-"
"Silence!" Jay bellowed at her. He probably meant for his voice to sound commanding, or threatening, but instead it cracked and he sounded like a child on the edge of pubescence. Of course, Stacy knew that this was probably an apt description of him despite the fact that the greasy haired, fedora wearing man in front of her was on the cusp of thirty. They were in what had been his mom's basement, he was sitting on a life-size replica on the Iron Throne, and at his right hand was a body pillow with a picture of his waifu Mashiro on it.
"I'm king of this world now," he continued, "And I will decide how *comfortable* this will be."
His extra emphasis on the word comfortable made her shiver. Much to Stacy's dismay, he noticed.
"You can't even contain yourself," Jay smiled as he rose to his feet, "Just the thought of the comforts I could offer has you shivering where you stand."
Stacy did her best not to feign a gagging sound, and instead stared at him in silent contempt. Reading social cues had never been Jay's strong point though, and the effect was lost on him.
"Kneel," he suddenly whispered.
"Excuse me?" Stacy blurted out.
"Twelve years, Stacy." Jay sighed, "Twelve years ago you told me you wouldn't date me if I was the last person on Earth, and then left me for *Chad*. And now, you show up here as one of the last two people on this planet, begging me for companionship. I will consider it, for I am a gentleman, but first you will kneel."
Stacy wanted to scream at him, to call him vile and disgusting, to berate him for not having changed an ounce over the past twelve years. She thought that coming here would be a good thing, surely no one could be this awful, this self absorbed, this delusional about what the world is and their place in it for twelve years without some sort of reality check.
But she was wrong. He hadn't changed.
And he was right. They were the last two people on Earth. Her sweet, sweet, Chad was gone. The man who had hugged her all night the day her puppy had died, who had stayed up two nights in a row writing a song to propose to her, who was universally loved by everyone he came into contact with, and was one of the most genuinely good people she had ever met.
She swallowed her pride, and unconsciously touched her stomach. Inside of her was Chad's unborn child, and as the child grew she would eventually be unable to take care of herself alone.
*Just once,* she thought as she fell to one knee, *Sleep with Jay once, convince him that the child is his, and then you might have a chance.*
She would have the child, and after a few years they would run. But for the short term, she would have to put up with Jay.
He approached Stacy, and cupped her cheek in his shaky hands. It was all she could do not the pull away from him. Jay leaned in close to her ear, and whispered.
"Let's take this upstairs M'lady," he said with what sounded like his attempt at a seductive voice. Before Stacy could react, she felt something wet and warm slowly moving its way up the side of her face.
He was licking her, she realized.
"Okay," she yelled, rising to her feet, "I'm done. Nope. You're insane."
"What?" Jay said, dumbfounded.
"I was wrong," Stacy explained as she turned her back on him, "I thought I was being too cruel when I said I would never date you. I didn't put much thought into it when I said it, and now that we're in that exact situation, I thought maybe it could work."
"I was just-," Jay began.
"Shut up," Stacy cut him off, "Now I realize I wasn't cruel *enough*. That I wasn't clear *enough*. Not only will I still not date you, even though we are the last two people on Earth, I will risk the life of myself and my unborn child just to be sure that I never have to see you again. I would rather my child and myself die, than have both of us survive living with you."
Jay began to whimper, and Stacy decided the least she could do was leave so he didn't have to cry in front of her.
"Friendzoned again," he sighed into his body pillow, as the basement door slammed shut. "Stupid bitch. I'm a nice guy, what's wrong with her?"
________________________________________________________________
Did you like this story? Check out my other stuff over at r/Niedski! I post all of my stories there! | 2017-02-27T04:40:15 | 2017-02-26T23:34:04 | 142 | 86 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Tenz looked at the human ship they were about to buy, it was the only thing they could afford at the moment and they needed to get away ASAP. The seller assured them that the FTL drive was completely safe, a Sol Stop Drive, that was the type of FTL drive it had. Tenz had heard horror stories about what could go wrong with Sol Stop Drives. Every other FTL drive that was ever made was about going very, very fast or making other things go very very fast. The Sol Stop drive did the opposite. It stops the entire universe, shifts your ship into another plane of existence and waits till it drifts to where you wanted to go then brings you back and lets the universe continue. That's at least what the humans told everyone it did, none of the other races understood how it worked. Tenz could think up thousands of ways that the Stop drive could go wrong, some of these were real problems with it, others were just theories. Firstly there's the surprise of something just appearing with no warning, other things crash into it, and some other drives use the same plane of existence the Stop drive supposedly uses so we know that's safe but those ones don't stop the universe so you can still get a signal from them approaching. And then there's the whole "stopping the universe" what would happen if a Stop Drive malfunctioned and the universe never got restarted? The scariest thing about that is that it could have already happened and nobody would ever know! Steeling themselves Tenz stepped into the ship and put in some universal co-ordinates, then pressed the stop button.
Nothing happened, and nothing was going to happen either, as this universe was stopped.
In another reality Tenz pulled their tentacle back from the stop button and looked out the view port to see that they had arrived, there must have been nothing to worry about after all.
Edit: Thanks for the Gold! | "Okay, settle down you Klaforkians!" Herbo commanded the students. "I know that yesterday's news has us all excited. Let's talk about it! Who has a question?"
"What do they look like?" Young Booly asked.
"The humans?" Herbo heartily chuckled. "They're fleshy, four-limbed, upright, and a little shorter than you are."
"Oh! Teacher!" Young Spooku raised her hypertentacle. "Are they evil? Will they eat us?"
Herbo expected such silly questions and laughed. "No, they won't eat us. I don't think they are evil, but humans are... very reckless."
Herbo nodded his head and grinned as he motioned to the students to calm down. They grew more energetic by the second- as to be expected. A new starfaring species hasn't risen in several generations!
"Why are humans reckless?" Young Zari questioned.
"Well," Herbo thought. "Do you know how we travel such great distances so quickly?"
"Of course!" The students all replied in unison. Young Jujuju smugly spoke, "Our spaceships bend the space in front of them and *WHOOOOOOOOSH!*"
The class merrily chuckled. "Yes," Herbo explained. "Our smartest Klaforkian scientists discovered long ago that if our spaceships bend the space in front it, we could travel great distances much quicker than the universe wanted us to. The universe's speed limit no longer applied to us."
"Teacher," Young Booly asked. "Is it illegal to break the universe's speed limit?"
Herbo couldn't resist an enormous smile. "No, Young Booly. The universe won't arrest us for breaking its speed limit."
"Oh," Young Jujuju spoke again. "The Plurpians go faster than light speed because they teleport in *WORM HOLES*!"
"Very good, Young Jujuju," Herbo said. "And the Narlans break the universe's speed limit because they can travel through time itself. Narlans arrive at their destination before they leave!"
The students knew all of this, of course. They learned about starfaring species' faster-than-light methods in 24th grade science.
"How do humans break the speed of light?" Young Spooku asked.
"Well," Herbo started. "This is why they are so reckless. Humans can travel faster than the speed of light because they change the speed of light itself. This is why we don't think humans are stupid; they are just stupidly careless."
The students sat thinking about what Herbo had told them. For the first time since class started, they were all silent.
Finally, Young Jujuju broke the silence. "If humans change the speed of light itself, then they can travel faster than light. But doesn't that mean that they are still very slow?"
"Yes it does, Young Jujuju," Herbo confirmed. "Those slow, reckless humans." | 2017-03-30T22:23:44 | 2017-03-30T22:22:59 | 1,412 | 241 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth is assigned a number indicating their importance in worldly events. The lower the number the more important the person. These numbers change each day. All your life you've been in the high 6 billions. One day you wake up and your number is one. | "Wake up Josh!"
"What is it mom?" I muttered with a miserable tone of voice.
"Look at your score!"
"What?"
"Your score! Your score is number one!"
I suddenly opened my eyes wide awake and rushed out of bed past mom to check the family scoreboard in the living room.
"Holy fuck." I stared at the monitor dumbfounded.
"Pretty impressive, buttman." My sister Shellsie said with a mocking grin.
I looked down, and sure enough I had forgotten to put on my clothes in the rush of the moment.
"You can't save the world naked, can you?" She continued.
"Save the world?"
It was too much to take.
That was the last thing I remembered before waking up again, this time staring up at a shining grey metal ceiling.
"He's awake now, Mr President." An unknown voice said.
Is this a dream? Am I turning insane?
"Hello Number one." a somewhat familiar voice said.
I looked in the direction of the voice, and sure enough, the President stood right next to me. But then I noticed something odd in the windows behind him. There were stars and there was... Fuck, I'm in space.
"You are currently on the Western military space station, and you are about to drop down and assassinate the President of the Democratic People's Republic of the East, in about..." He looked down at his watch. "18 seconds. Any questions?"
I stared at him in bewilderment.
"Didn't think so. Now I'd lay down and not move if I were you. Good luck."
The floor started moving down into the floor and tiny robot arms started to transform my hospital bed into a tiny escape pod.
"Five seconds until drop." A computerised female voice said.
"HOLYFUCKHOLYFUCKHOLYFUCKHOLYFUCK..."
"4, 3, 2, 1, drop."
There was an audible thud.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
"Turn on the live news broadcasts" The President said.
The TV turned on, showing the clearly panicked face of Mr Josh Smith as he screamed violently.
"Should we just tell him that this is the most expensive practical joke in history before he gets an heart attack?" One of the doctors asked, concern evident in her voice.
"Nah, just a little longer."
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This is my first writing prompt, I hope you liked it! | I wake up every morning shaming myself for being such an unimportant person. My sister is number 100. My brother, 80. They are both very important while I am number 78,000,000,000. Not important at all.
While my brother is away and my sister is engulfed in her popular group I stay at home writing stories. I imagine I may be a low number one day. Maybe...
As I get ready for bed I see my mother. Her number is 1,600. She's lower than most people in the world. But she is still a bit high. My father, always in the basement doing important work. His number? 65. Very low. He and my mother fell in love. They married and had four children. One was a miscarriage.
Once I fell asleep, I dreamed I woke up and was number 1. It was a nice dream. Everyone loved me. I was on tv and the front page of the newspaper was all about me. My fame and humbleness.
My sister woke me up and smiled. "Guess what my number is!" She pulled up her pajama sleeve to reveal a number in black ink on her arm. It read 97. She was in the two digits. My eyes flew wide and I rolled up my pants to reveal my own number written in ink. Blue ink. High numbers were written in red. Lower numbers were written in black. One digit numbers were written in blue. As my sister gasped and fell to the ground, I squealed. "Mom!! Dad!!" I screamed. My mother rushed into the room and covered her mouth. "Daniel!" She yelled. My father ran to the doorway and saw my number. He stumbled back and rubbed his eyes. "Your number ONE!!" My mother screamed happily. "Oh my GOD!" My father picked me up and twirled me around. My sister stood up and stomped out of the room. I smiled and kissed my mother on the cheek before hearing the doorbell. As I opened it, a young woman walked in and sat on our couch. A camera crew walked in after her. They started filming. "Hello America. I'm your broadcaster Emily Davids here on Channel 27 bring you the latest news." The woman said. She waved for me to come over and I did. We did a tiny interview and my heart was pounded out of my chest.
I talked on tv and made the front page on the newspaper!!
I even had a large popularity group! My brother even came home to celebrate with me. Everything was perfect.
When the day was over I fell asleep quickly after watching my favorite movies and eating pie and ice cream.
When I woke up I looked at my leg to see the number. I smiled when the number was 1.
Everything happened all over again. The second time around wasn't as good. I did really care for more interviews and parties. The only thing that got me pumped was when I watched my favorite movies and new ones that just came out with my family at home all snuggled up together. My moms number went down. My fathers number went down. My sister and brothers number went down too. We all ate amazing food and drinks. That was my favorite part.
The next day, I looked at my leg and laughed. My number was 10. Finally. Something higher. Everything after that was perfect. We stayed in the two digit range for the rest of our lives. Living happily together and doing the things we all love. One happy family. | 2017-05-05T15:08:55 | 2017-05-05T12:19:48 | 38 | 11 |
[WP] After discovering you have a plethora of special abilities, ranging from control over electricity to breathing underwater, the FBI captures you for experiments. However, you only let them capture you, and frequently enjoy messing with the staff when they actually try to experiment on you. | I woke up in my holding cell, the warm sweat of yesterday's "make the subject sleep on a hot plate" test still soaking my shirt. Honestly, these "experiments" are just getting ridiculous. This stopped being funny ages ago. Sure, I can leave by punching a hole in the wall, but where's the fun in that? I'm still sticking to Operation Disillusion.
Dr. Johan visited my cell with the meal I requested, a hot-dog sliced in half (lengthwise) with wheatgrass and honey mustard on the side, and a whole frozen turkey. She knows I'll just use the turkey to clog the toilet, yet I still get one anyway.
"¡Hola señorita! ¿No es un buen día para jugar a 'encontrar el pavo'? O tal vez prefiere un juego de 'descongelación del bloque de hielo alrededor de su personal'?"
"So," Johan said, deadpan, very obviously exhausted, "You speak Spanish now. That's a thing you can do."
I stood up and took my plate of food from the disgruntled doctor, transmogrifying the wheatgrass into a crisp hundred dollar bill and using telekinesis to slide it into her coat pocket. "Merci, serveur."
She turned to leave, but I teleported her into my holding cell.
"Don't leave, I'm just getting started! I had a whole bunch of jokes written in thirty languages!"
"I'm really not in the mood for your jokes, subject 137."
"I have a name, you know."
"*sigh* I'm not in the mood for your jokes, Assblaster McDingDong."
"That's better. So, I'm eager to know, what wacky experiments do you have planned for me today?"
"Honestly? Nothing."
I gasped in a flamboyant, dramatic manner.
"Whaaaaat? No experiments? Why?"
"For starters, our funding was cut, staff morale is at an all-time low, we have no scientific results to report other than the fact that a butterball turkey can fit inside a toilet water tank, and three employees are in therapy because of your 'depress-o-beam'."
"And? You can still conduct experiments, come on..."
"You're right. I *could*. I just don't feel like it anymore."
"Oh, come on! What happened to science!? What happened to cruel experiments!? What happened to my daily cyanide injections!?"
"Key words: 'I don't feel like it'."
"You can't just give up!"
"Yes, I can."
"...what happens to me, then? Am I stuck in this ten-by-ten meter box for the rest of my days?"
"No, no... you'll be released from holding, so long as you sign a contract stating you won't speak of this or conduct mischief."
"I... uh... okay?"
"Good. Now, can you please teleport me out of this cell so I can pack up my office?"
"Sure, sure."
I blinked to use my teleportation powers. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a fiery pile of rubble. Oh. I must have accidentally used "mega fire blast". Well, then.
Quickly, I scuttled away from the ruins, taking my frozen turkey with me.
*****
Not the ending I planned, but it clicked. For more of my work, visit /r/Picklestasteg00d. | ”Please lie down on the bed, Mr. Blake,” said the new doctor.
She was a precious little thing, barely out of the academy, with long hair in the color of motor oil, and nails in shiny crimson. Her eyes narrowed in weary concentration as she scrolled through my journal on her tablet computer.
“Everything looking good on there, Doc?”
“Call me Vanessa,” she said without looking up from the screen.
“You don’t look like a ‘Vanessa’ to me… sure you’re not a 'Grace' or a 'Holly?'”
She glared at me. “I know what you do, Crowley. How you act. I’m not some random newbie you can push around.”
“Whoa whoa whoa, hold your racing steeds, what happened to ‘Mr. Blake’?” I said, feeling a grin creep up on my lips. “I liked it better when you were all formal and polite.”
“And I liked it better when you were quiet. Let’s run some tests, shall we?”
I held up my hands in mock surrender. This was going to be a lot more fun than I had first thought. After I had found out about my powers, I cruised from town to town robbing banks, getting blind drunk, and fooling around with every woman I could find. It’s quite disturbing how easy things get when you can fly and lift cars. However, living the good life got boring quite fast, and when I woke up in the gutter one morning in a pool of my own sick, I decided it was time to check myself in – and by that, I mean take a vacation trip to Quantico.
“Careful!” I said when she reached for my arm.
She flinched and looked up. Her bright gray eyes scanned my face for meaning.
“Don’t burn your fingers,” I said.
“Is that another new power?”
“Sure, I just discovered it. Judging from your flushed cheeks and the way you’re sweating in my presence…”
She rolled her eyes at me. “You’re saying that you’re hot? How unequivocally original...”
“Your words, not mine.”
“Okay, Mr. Blake,” Vanessa said. “Let me just take your blood pressure and listen to your pulse. I don’t feel like playing games with you.”
“You’re right; playing games is childish.” I held out my arm. “Thanks for being formal again, I appreciate it!”
Electricity rolled through my skin and zapped her fingertips. She gasped and pulled back her hand.
“Did you feel that too?” I said. “The tension…”
She scowled and started scrolling through her tablet again. She crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair.
“What are you doing?” I said after a while.
She shrugged, her gray eyes fixed on the screen. She licked her lips absently.
“Ah, I see what this is!” I said and chuckled. “You’re not the first one here to give me the silent treatment, you know?”
“I’m not,” she said. “I’m waiting.”
Let’s wait then, I thought and leaned into the pillows on my bed. An hour went by. It was kind of peaceful having her there. I glanced at her face. She had a cute dimple in her left cheek and a tiny scar on her right eyebrow. I found myself liking her more than her predecessors. Despite her murderous looks and her fiery personality, she stood out from the rest. Everyone else would’ve left by now.
“Hey,” I said and held out my arm.
“No more shocks?”
“I promise.”
She nodded and strapped my arm in and started pumping. “Thank you.”
“No more games,” I said.
A smile danced over her lips and painted the sides of her eyes with tiny wrinkles. I don’t know what it was with her. I needed to know her. I felt like those gray eyes saw me for who I was – not just a freak to run tests on. Ever since I got my powers, I thought I’d lost my humanity. And even though she hadn’t said anything, it felt like she cared for me, like she had given me some of it back.
“Same time tomorrow?” I asked as she got up.
She nodded. “Same time tomorrow.”
She walked across the room and opened the door.
“You can call me Crowley if you want.”
“Goodbye, Crowley,” she said and smiled again.
“Goodbye, Vanessa.”
****
Check out r/Lilwa_Dexel for more stories!
| 2017-07-02T23:13:17 | 2017-07-02T22:58:49 | 1,345 | 174 |
[WP] You are a cow.
[removed] | Grass is food. I eat grass and I not die.
Farmer is friend. I not kill farmer and farmer take me to new grass. I eat new grass and I not die.
Sometimes farmer take me to milk square and invisible calves feed, sometimes farmer take me to bed square and visible calves feed.
When visible calves grow they go away. Invisible calves never grow, always hungry.
Old cows sometimes go away. Maybe someday I go away too. I wonder what away is like. Maybe away have better grass. | Moo (Hi)
Moo moo moo.(I am Cow)
Moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(I do whatever a cow should and could do every day.)
Moo moo, moo, moo, moo moo.(I eat, rest, walk, and sleep.)
Moo moo moo moo(my parents are great)
Moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(my mother is a good mother and my father is brave)
Moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo's moo moo(though, people suck milk from my mom's nipps sometimes)
Moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(when I grew up, i saw some cows come and dissappear)
Moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo(of course, I made friends with some, but they also dissappear)
Moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(my momma says they are with different people now, and the are living in a wonderland).
Moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(then one day, I wake up and my momma is not there with me).
Moo moo moo moo moo moo(I still wonder where she is)
Moo moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo(I wish she was here with me, I miss her very much)
------------------------------------------------------
Hope you liked it! I'm just new here😁
Sorry for format, on mobile😁 | 2017-10-02T06:13:08 | 2017-10-02T05:04:22 | 6,645 | 387 |
[WP] You are a cow.
[removed] | Grass is food. I eat grass and I not die.
Farmer is friend. I not kill farmer and farmer take me to new grass. I eat new grass and I not die.
Sometimes farmer take me to milk square and invisible calves feed, sometimes farmer take me to bed square and visible calves feed.
When visible calves grow they go away. Invisible calves never grow, always hungry.
Old cows sometimes go away. Maybe someday I go away too. I wonder what away is like. Maybe away have better grass. | Oft overlooked, we cows truly possess a great deal of intellect. So our countless hours spent grazing in a field do little outside of bore us half to death. As a result, when I was finally loaded up into a trailer pulled by a large truck and a road went speeding by, excess exhilaration exploded inside of me. My excitement in this moment knew no bounds. With my head between the bars that made up the walls of this trailer, sticking as far out into the wind-filled air as possible, I took in all of the new smells and feelings with a marvelous sense of wonder.
The radio blared and I heard gruesome stories of an onslaught of murders in Las Vegas. 50 dead. Over 400 injured. This moment reeled me back into reality. We always sought greener pastures. I often envied the humans, with their immense freedoms and luxuries. But moments like these inspired in me a deep welcoming of the life I was born with. While I may not have the freedoms allotted to the average human, I had a safety they would never know. My life was easy. Sleep, rise, eat, sleep. Rinse and repeat. My life was nothing if not safe. As I heard the story of fear and atrocious murder, I thanked the heavens that I as a cow and that I was not a human.
Further we ventured down the road until I felt the truck begin to slow to a stop. Excitedly I looked out of the side to see where we had arrived. A wooden sign hung above a small shop that read: “Joe’s Butcher Shop”.
| 2017-10-02T06:13:08 | 2017-10-02T05:33:08 | 6,645 | 42 |
[WP] You are a cow.
[removed] | ^Moo.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
Can you not see.
that I live?
.
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
The hills are high.
The grass is green.
.
I am headed to be a fat holstein.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
I chew my cud.
I eat my hay.
.
It is the same.
Old.
Damned.
Thing.
Every.
Day.
.
Farmer Brown is not.
What he seems.
.
He gets off.
On milking me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see that?
I live!
In the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Get your mind out.
The gutter.
Get your hand off!
.
My udder.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
This old man...
.
He is on crack.
He is a lactophiliac.
.
Nick-Nack.
Paddywack.
Give a dog a bone.
.
What does his wife say.
When she gets.
home.
.
Did you know cows./? ^Can ^yodel?
.
His old wife.
She makes cheese.
Colby.
Jack.
Swiss.
And brie.
.
In the red barn.
.
She can not see.
What he.
loves.
To do.
To.
Me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see?
that I live?
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Farmer Brown.
He is.
A creep.
How he treats those.
Poor sheep.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Now you know what.
I go through.
.
I wish.
That I was born.
Hindu.
.
I will pack my bags.
.
And trim my hooves.
.
Adios!
.
I think.
.
I will.
.
^Moo. -ve.
.
------------------------------------
*If, Christopher Walken, was a, cow perhaps?* | As I stared aimlessly forwards, I contemplated life. My surroundings had the potential to be beautiful, but I could not see it. My frustrations limited my sight drastically. I can only see the reasons for my frustrations.
That tree isn't there to provide shade, nourishment and beauty, it is there to encroach upon my already small living space.
The birds singing merrily as they fluttered through the sky, their screeching voices became mocking and taunting. They had experienced life outside of this place, they were rubbing it in.
I jolted from my train of thoughts as I felt something brush against me. I swung my head to the right, only to see my halfwit sister. She was walking backwards, trying to stick her tongue in her nose. What a moron.
Looking at her filled me with despair once again. I surveyed the rest of my cell mates. All of them idiots. Some were my immediately family, some were distant relations. That didn't matter to me, they were all the same.
They were happy and content with life. Not knowing what was beyond the grey solid wall. They were all mindless zombies, following the two-legged creature around. Doing the same thing day in and day out. I was different. I longed for adventure.
I was certain that they could sense I was different. I was gifted with intellect, with smarts. No one else had that. I was the one that would become something. I would be the first to break free of this monotonous life. The others would most likely follow. They don't know how to do anything else.
The frustration of being the only intelligent one here threatened to overwhelm me. I kicked the floor, hoping to release some of it, but only gained pain. I felt the anger and resentment building up inside of me. I saw the two legged creature walking towards me and I knew this was my moment. I knew I had to communicate with it, make it understand that I am not like the others.
I approached the moving wall, waiting for it to come through. As soon as it had, I charged towards it. I could smell the fear it eluded, could see the fear in its eyes. I came to an abrupt stop right in front of it. We stared at eachother for a few seconds. The energy inside me felt almost electric, I knew this was going to be my moment to shine.
As the fear started to fade from its eyes, I gathered all my strength and determination, forcing it to help me communicate with it. Make it see sense. It was flowing through my body, nearly reaching my head. Then it erupted out of me.
"Mooooooo...ooooooooooo."
No. This wasn't meant to happen. Panic started to take over.
"Mooooooo..."
The two legged creature made a croaking noise, which I had worked out was laughter. It was laughing at me. It patted my face and walked off.
Hopelessness washed over me. All of my intellect, all of my cunning, my wit. It accounted for nothing. I was doomed to this life. I realised this now. I am not better than my peers. I am Cow. | 2017-10-02T06:49:36 | 2017-10-02T06:43:21 | 162 | 11 |
[WP] A girl becomes pen pals with a demon prince when she accidentally intercepts one of his magic scrolls. They carry on correspondence for years, confessing their secrets & dreams to each other. One day, the prince, soon to be king, sends the girl, now a woman, a final scroll: a marriage proposal.
Boy/princess responses are also welcomed. | I shuffled my papers. "This clause about the owning of souls is completely absurd."
Archaeoblix grinned. "Ah, you read that bit. I thought you would."
"And the bit in invisible ink? About ten thousand years in the lower planes sf hell? Not happening babe."
"How about the bit about-"
"-Devouring my unborn child? That would also be *your* unborn child, so that would be inadvisable."
"It's just a tradition. While we're at it, I noticed you snuck something into your side about me doing laundry for all eternity."
"I can't stand the folding!"
"We'll have a servant do it. And the bit about daily foot rubs until time dies?"
"...Yes?"
He smiled. "We'll leave that one in." | “Oh man! These princesses are wack.” Finn complained as he threw the scroll to the floor.
“Save em once, and they want smooches like it’s nothing.”
Jake picked up the scroll and read it over. “I think this princess want more than just smooches, dude. She wants to straight up marry you.”
Finn’s face scrunched up as the image of marrying the Ash Princess formed in his brain.
“No way man, that ain’t happening.”
“Well you did write her a lot of letters.” Jake pointed out.
“I was just being nice!” Finn’s voice cracked. “You know, mad chivalrous.”
Jake crumpled the scroll into a ball and tossed it over his shoulder. “So we heading to the Ashlands or what?”
Finn closed his eyes and waved that suggestion away. “Nah man, I’m not marrying Ash Princess.”
Jake shrugged. “So then what do you want to do today?”
Finn thought for a bit. Then his face lit up. “Iknow, let’s go and slay some wicked dragons.” He slammed his fist into his other hand.
Jake got excited by that. He high fived Finn and leapt out of the window of their tree house. His body grew ten times its normal size as Finn jumped on his back. They then bounded off towards the mountains to slay some unsuspecting dragons.
In the Ashlands, Ash Princess sat on her throne, eagerly awaiting her future husband. Her advisor cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Are you- ah- are you sure he’s coming, your highness?” He stepped a little closer. “It’s been a month since your last correspondance.”
“I’m sure. Finn is the most noble boy I know. He probably got held up by monsters or something.”
| 2018-05-07T00:38:21 | 2018-05-07T00:18:15 | 114 | 24 |
[WP] You’re a peasant who’s house has been raided hundreds of times by adventurers passing through. So, you built a defense so they would stop stealing from you. One thing led to another, and your house is now a dungeon and you’re the final boss. | Having your farm on the only road between Alma Village and the Capital certainly has its advantages. It seems every adventurer, and I do mean every single one of them, passed by the road by my farm in their outset. Darius the Mountain, Dragon Tamer Fiona, Seymon of the Thousand Blades... I was sure I saw all of them, years before they became household names, barreling down the road towards the Capitol. It was cool seeing them walk without acknowledging you, and trying to guess which ones will become famous, and which ones will be Ogre food in a couple months.
What was not cool, however, is the amount of theft that went on. It was fun at first, telling people how once upon a time, Lady Cathy stopped by your farm to slaughter a few of your pigs, but the cost really racks up over time. And it's not just the pig, either; they were picking my Goldblossom, which I had strategically planted at various areas around my farm to maximize how long they have to walk to gather them all. Don't even get me started on the odd practice of skinning my pigs and leaving all the meat behind (OK, sometimes they take a tiny piece, but most of the time the whole thing is just left there, minus the skin, and I have to clean it up). Before long, they were inviting themselves into my house. I tried to be friendly, even offering them a few tried and true advice about farming and animal husbandry, if they were into that sort of thing (they never were). But deep down, I was fed up. Something's gotta give.
First it was just a fence. Unfortunately, it seems that waist high fences in scattered areas around the perimeter was not extremely effective in stopping adventurers (some also have the weird habit of jumping over them instead of, say, going around). Then it were the dogs, which didn't help much either. Oh, and they skinned the dogs too. Sickening! Then it was the Farmland Protector Golem 9000^tm . It cost a fortune, but at least it sort of worked. People were careful to avoid the area the golem was in, at least.
Well, that one drunken night a few weeks ago was probably not a good idea. More specifically, getting drunk and asking a passing mechanic (who bore a surprising resemblance to Blacknail the Mechanical Menace, I might add) to "do whatever you want" with that Golem was probably not a good idea. I wanted my farm to be safe, sure, but nothing could prepare me for the four dead bodies outside my farm the next morning. I must have spent the entire morning vomiting and trying to remember what happened the night before. No doubt they were adventurers, since the other farmers never left their farm as far as I know. I have seen a dead adventurer once before, years ago, when he simply stood there and was bitten to death by my dogs in around 40 minutes. I never really understood what that was all about.
Now back to that Farmland Protector Golem. It didn't seem to attack me, so I just went out and tried to clean up the mess best I can. They all had a couple silvers in their pockets, so I took them (not like they had a use for them, anyway). But, if I thought that a murderous death robot would stop adventurers from terrorizing my farm, then I was sorely mistaken. Hundreds came in the days after the incident, and they were all trying to kill the Golem. Over 90% of the times they failed, miserably, but if they succeed they would kill all my pigs (and skin them), dogs (and skin them), and pillage all my Goldblossoms. And, just because how many of them there were, they were trampling all the other plants as well. What had seemed like a victory only ended with those idiots harassing me even harder.
Desperate time called for desperate measures, and fortunately, with the sheer volume of dead adventurers on my doorstep, taking money out of their cold, dead pockets seemed to be an effective way of making ends meet. First I hired some cleaners. Taking care of hundreds of dead bodies daily really takes a toll on you. Then it was the tall perimeter fence. Keeping a murderous golem from running loose seemed to be a good idea. Then more dogs, ones with more training. Then farmhands, in part to help with farming, and in part to keep adventurers away. Then came the poisonous plants, since I was getting desperate. I even added some more fence in the middle of my farm to stop the adventurers from coming towards the golem, but they seem extremely adept at knocking holes in those.
Somewhere along the line, looting dead adventurers became more profitable than farming.
The guilds seems to like me, for whatever reason. "A beginner's dungeon" they called my farm, though the name of my farm is, and always has been "Stoneridge Farm." They said that clearing my "dungeon" was a sign that someone was ready to face real adventures, so they want everyone to come and try to deafeat my golem. Heck, one day I woke up to find one of those portal things that they use to transport adventurers to and from dungeons. Needless to say, the number of adventures who came has only increased since then.
In fact, there a group of them here right now. 5 of them, to be exact. The two tanks doesn't seem to know what they are doing, as they are standing in the poison cloud as one of my farmhand, decked out in some sick looking leather armor, is hitting them with his hoe. The healer is running from the pack of dogs, which is being ignored by the tanks. Oh well, looks like they are not getting past that boss today. Better start practicing that speech the guild wants me to read every time someone dies to that boss. Something about not standing in the poison clouds. Boring. At least that archer seems to have a nice looking hat. Hopefully she has some money in her pockets, the cleaners have been demanding a bonus after the golem took out that group of 200 dwarves.
As you can see, this is kind of inspired by a more MMORPG take on the prompt, more specifically a combination of Westfall's Harvest Goems and the Hoggar Raid. | A peaceful house in a nice village they said.
Come spend the evening of your life in Redfall they said.
I was sitting with my head staff in the meeting room. Everyone was looking on the ground. Not daring to lift their heads. Not because they could catch the wrath of some overlord.
We just got news one of the wisest and most merciful kings who every lived got slaughtered like an animal. No, not even animals would be treated like that.
It all started when I bought a house in Redfall after 20 years in the army. Tired of the decades of violence I decided to start a family with my old school crush.
Work was hard as peasant, but we were happy. Soon she gave birth to our two children and both of us were looking forward for a future as a normal family.
But one day it all went up in flames. A group of so called "adventurers" kicked in our door and sacked our entire house. They broke everything.
I probably would have just shrugged it off and started anew. But what they did burned into my mind and it will haunt me for the rest of my days.
One of then pinned me down while the others violated my wife in front of me and the children. They would take turns and in the end they left her shattered body on the ground before leaving with our belongings and the children. They knocked me out and when I awoke my wife had already bled to death.
I just kneeled there what felt like hours holding her cold hands and crying. Meanwhile new groups of adventures came into my house looking for loot. They either ignored, taunted or threatened me to reveal the riches I never had. When it got dark I stood up and started to dig a grave for my beloved wife.
I mourned for several days, just sitting next to her grave. In the meantime a several hundres of these adventures came trough my house. One of them finally decided to burn it down. I had nothing of my family that could remind me of them. The last thing was this house and they burned it down just for fun. They didn't even leave me the silver necklace my wife had inherited from my family.
In the following months I would repeatedly try to rebuild my house but everytime it got destroyed by marauding adventures. I tried fight them but they always defeated me easily. I wished for the sweet relieving embrace of death.
But I never got it. Almost a year later I received a letter from a temple in a far away land stating that my children had died as slaves working in a mine. If I wanted a proper burial I had to send 150 gold coins or their bodies would be fed to arena animals.
Of course I had nothing left after hundred raids of adventures.
And so I lost my children for good and couldn't even give them a real burial. I decided to dig symbolicaly 2 graves for them. Even when I finished I just kept going and going. I was dead on the inside, completely empty. I didn't feel anything, not the burning sun or my blistered hands.
After some time the 2 small graves turned into a complete moat, surrounding what was left of the village and the surrounding fields. Other surviving villagers joined me to forget the horrible moments in the past.
One day however I encountered a lone orc named Grugg. Finally expecting death I threw down my shovel and opened my arms.
"Kill me, I have nothing left to live for! My entire family was killed by the adventurers."
But instead he just hugged me and cried. He told me that he had the same fate. Gruggs family got murdered and his hometown razed. He was acting as scout and head of the surviving orcs for a group of refugees fleeing from the adventures. Grugg introduced me to the other leaders of them. Tirene the fairy queen, Golan the Goblin leader, Amaranth the dragon king and Ceres the high queen of the forrest and dark elves.
They saw the moat and asked if they could camp in the remains of my village. Seeing the large trail of unfortunate souls me and the other vilagers agreed immediately. We soon grew fond of each other and the temporary camp slowly but steadily grew into a fortified city with more and more fleeing people joining us. My house got turned into a underground castle with enough room to evacuate the entire city.
We repelled repeated raids from adventurers but our losses kept increasing since they came back everytime with more people.
So we send Amaranth, who has been elected as a acting king for Redfall in the meantime, to negotiate peace with the human kingdoms.
And they didn't even listen to what he had to say. The same night he entered the capital of the southern kingdom he and his guards got assasinated. His body got dragged down the street with the heads of his companions on pikes. They robbed the bodies and send the mutilated remains back to us with a list of impossible demands, including complete submission into slavery.
And here we are now. A group of broken people who just lost their last glimmer of hope for peace.
I looked out of the window and saw a group of children playing in the courtyard. Suddenly I felt a fire I've never experienced in my soul.
No! I would not let them die like my own children!
But our options were limited. We lacked manpower and our hospitals werefilled with injured soldiers. We had to take more drastic measures.
"We will not survive if we don't wipe out every human kingdom on this continent. We must eradicate and enslave them all and never allow them to attack us ever. We must scare off other kingdoms that might try to help them by commiting unspeakable atrocities!"
Everyone was silent in the room, starring in shock at me and what I just said.
"No! We would defile the memory of Amaranth with this. He would never want us to do any of this!", said Tirene.
"Amaranth is dead. His peaceful approach got him and many of us killed. It's time we go into the offensive and take the initiative in this war. What we need are soldiers and more workers. Thats why we should capture more of those adventures. Force the male ones for slave labour and the female ones for breeding duty with the orcs.
Grugg slammed his fist on the desk. He was shaking.
"We....are...not...MONSTERS!"
"I know that Grugg. But we need soldiers asap. And orcs can reproduce with humans without problems and mature the fastest of all the races in this town."
Ceres looked into the round.
"We must not turn into the very thing we ar.."
"WE HAVE NO CHOICE! OUR WALLS CAN'T GET COMPLETELY MANNED AND WE ARE LOSING MORE SOLDIERS THAN WE CAN RECRUIT. HALF OF OUR POPULATION ARE ALREADY BOUND INTO MILITA DUTY: IF THIS GOES ON LIKE THAT WE WILL HAVE TO SEND THE CHILDREN; THE OLD AND DISABLED UP THE WALL!"
I tried to calm myself down. Everyone was looking on the ground again. Finally Golan started speaking.
"All of us here don't like this idea but he is right. We won't survive much longer like this. Those humans want to see us as worthless monsters. Then let's give them what they want. Let them fight against monsters and what we really can do and make them regret for what they did."
The old goblin sunk back into his chair.
"For our children and their future." | 2018-05-28T20:28:08 | 2018-05-28T14:52:00 | 322 | 38 |
[WP] After you die, you're handed a book about your life. You open it, expecting a novel. Instead you get a "Choose your own adventure" book with all of the decisions you ever made, and every outcome they could have had. | Once I had acclimatised, they led me into an office. Wood-panelled, decadent, I thought, for this place - but I supposed they moved with the times here as well.
There was a man at the desk dressed in a white-grey suit. Subtle. They had told me about this man, when I had calmed down. He would show me all my significant choices, walk me through them, help me come to terms with them. He would enlighten me and discourage my false beliefs about myself, to cleanse me.
I sat. He gently placed a large, red leather-bound volume on the table. It looked like a Victorian bible, but brand new. I touched the closed leaves of the volume: The pages were going to be petal-like, delicate, just the same as bibles. This book meant something.
“All the choices you have ever had,” said the man in white. “Try it.”
I reached out my hand, hesitated, and looked to him. He exuded authority. He smiled serenely.
“I’ll explain it all. Go on.”
I opened the book.
The first few chapters were uneventful, filled with childhood stories and corrections to memories I had reconstructed in my elderly mind. I remembered my mother and father here- I was smiling. No choices as yet, but I’m only, what, six? Six, that’s.. quite old. I looked up.
The man had been sitting in silence, smiling- at me, or to himself? He sensed my worry. “Significant choices, my friend. At this point, your life is controlled by your parents and you have little perception of wider choice.”
I continued. In year two of school, I was confronted with a choice. Little Jenny was being teased for her broken leg. The other children looked to me.
‘Do you
a) join in with the children teasing Jenny
or
b) tease Jenny along with the children?
for a) go to page 265 or for b) go to page 265.
What?
I looked to the man across the desk. “Your brain factored in being alienated by your peers against hurting Jenny. This one was a dead cert.” He smiled kindly. Satisfied, if still slightly perplexed, I turned my eyes back to the book.
“Jenny was always a sick girl. She hanged herself after the same kind of bullying in her thirties”.
My eyes shot up, staring. The man seemed to look away, since as it to chastise himself. “Of course you can’t be blamed for any of this. You had no choice.”
Shaken, at length I went back to reading. A pattern began to emerge. As I read further, my “significant choices” became more and more frequent. To watch football with the others? To steal some cool pieces of Lego from my friend? To question the nature of my father’s illness...?
And each time, each option is the other, rephrased as if to give some illusion of choice. As I read further, greeted with what could only be described as amused patience from the man in white, all the pages led to the same place.
“What is this?” I asked, finally, battling through the dread of the answer.
“Have you ever heard of determinism? All of us, pawns, players in some shitty game. And you’re here-“
“Here..?”
“-and it’s not about responsibility, it’s about balance. And now you know- this eternity? It’s all gonna be electrical impulses.” The man in white paused strategically. He had done this many times before.
“They said you would help me come to terms with my choices!”
The man in white leaned forward, smiling more explicitly now. “I am. You have none. Submit. These are your terms.”
“...who are you?”
He paused, and then leaned back onto his chair. “Think of yourself as lucky. They live in blissful ignorance up there. Us? We know the nature of things.” | I stared at the corner, where two walls joined.
The thing about eternity, is that small fragments of time cease to mean anything. When you're twenty, a year goes by like a month. When you're 50, they seem to fly by like days. I was lucky enough to leave that concept behind before I got too far beyond 50.
I had been staring at the wall for a very long time. I flexed my hand, feeling the immaterium of my projected consciousness stretch and contort, ghosts of tendons displacing veins and muscle, which only existed for as long as my attention span. It was translucent, but only because I knew what was inside. I returned my blank gaze to studying the wall. I knew what kind of Nothing was inside that too. The Room constituted Everything. The sum capacity of my new universe was 15ft by 15ft by 15ft. And the Book.
I felt another well of discomfort, rising in a throat that didn't exist, anxiety flooding through my body, imaginary hormones riding blood that dried up centuries ago. Centuries? Centuries. Probably. Those things hadn't meant anything for a while. At first I had obsessively kept track of time, guessing and reguessing and estimating and correcting. That mania overtook me about twenty years in, but after a while, I realised that time only meant something when it was heading somewhere. There was only This. There was only Now. There was only the Book.
And there was The Wall. Steven studied the wall. It was smooth, and grey, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could see the swirls in the fabric of reality, compounded and solidified into this glorious, perfect monument, exact, square, and _solid_. If he peered in, deeper, hot, white clusters pulsate, flitting around each other in a flirtatious dance, twining themselves in strands of ether, never quite touching, until, rejected, they collapse, retreat, and form a new dance. Or maybe they didn't. He reached out to touch the wall, and found that his fingers met substance. He felt the distal phalange of his index finger squish through meat, straining to make contact, to reach through the wall and join the cosmic dance. A tear that didn't exist rolled down a face that had never been seen. One was joined by others, which became None as soon as they left his face. He stroked the wall with five finger tips, and let his hand find the corner.
He hadn't moved away from the corner for a very long time. He hadn't looked at the Book for even longer. A while ago, he switched corners, but that was just because he came to know all of the white specks on that side. He predicted a year's worth of their movements, and after that he got bored. He had laughed when he first woken up with the book, and spent a year studiously ignoring it. To acknowledge it would be to give power to whatever put him here. And anyway, he was never much of a reader. But sooner or later, he had thumbed it open. Later, in this case. As his thoughts on time shifted, Later ceased to exist. The thing about eternity is, you'll do anything to fill the now, to push Later out of your mind. Later isn't something that you want to exist.
The Book was a thing of beauty. The cover was plain, and uninteresting, but it was so unassailably _real_, that it felt like it carried the sum total of everything inside. Maybe it did. Despite the number of pages, they never ran out. You flick 10,000 pages to find out where one option takes you, and still find yourself in the middle. That's part of the problem. It was entertaining for a while. Steven saw where his life led, and then the life of somebody almost like him. And then somebody slightly further away, a distant, less Steven, Steven. In fact, Steven had read, lead, visualised and been defeated, loved, lost, murdered, been killed, died of diabetes, killed himself, killed the president, _loved_ the president, a million times over. A billion. It was like an eternity of films. In fact, Steven had lived so many lives, so many Reals that were so different from his own, that Steven no longer remembered which was his own. In fact, the only concrete thing that Steven had left, was the fact that his name was Stephen.
His tears dry by themselves, eventually, and he turns his head to the center of the room, to look at the Book, drawing everything Real into it, like a black hole drawing in light. He stands, and stretches out of habit, feeling muscles sliding over rib bones, feeling lungs expand with un-air. He turns the rest of his body, and begins to place one foot in front of the other. The corner that he was sitting in, and two pieces of wall attached, slowly disperse back into the immaterium. | 2018-07-04T01:11:45 | 2018-07-04T01:06:47 | 36 | 18 |
[WP] Due to the way most aliens had evolved, forest fires, house fires and the alike were seen as naturally powerful and not to be interfered with. When humans joined the galactic community, aliens were shocked and intriqued to discover human firefighters. | "What are thek little nozzles in thek ceiling for?" the mandibles giving the insectoid's speech a unique clicking quality.
"Oh, that's for the water," replies the human offhandedly.
"Youk drink from them?"
"Oh course not! That's to put out the fires if they occur."
Suddenly Kryaxis starts rapidly clicking and pointing at the nozzle, his fellow insectoid replying in their rapid clicking speech. Kira is standing awkwardly, not quite sure what to do for the minute while the cacophony is going on. Finally the aliens calm down.
"Youk feed thek rare and precious water intok thek all consuming flame! Why?" Kryaxis angrily shouts.
Kira takes a step back, the question taking her off guard, but rapidly composes herself. "To put out the fire of course."
At this point Kira remembers that the insectoids come from a dry desert world, where water is only gained from metabolic processes, and without access to the vast oceans of a terran planet like Earth.
"Anyways, we can just recoup the steam from the environmental vents after the fire is gone out."
At this point the insects are just staring at Kira, compound eyes bugging out of their exoskeleton more than usual, their chitinous nostrils flaring slightly as they breath in anger. Kira is getting more nervous by the second, both from a potential intergalactic incident and for her life.
Attempting to defuse the situation she hesitantly asks, "W-what do you do?"
As if on cue the insectoids calm down and Kryaxis speaks, "Well, thek sensible thing of course. Wek vent thek contents of thek affected areak tok space. No fuel. No fire."
Kira stands there, dumbstruck with disbelief. Kryaxis stares at her, a look of alien smugness on his mandibles.
"But what of your people that might be trapped?" Kira blurts out.
Kryaxis looks confused at this remark, "Well, wek breed more of course."
Kira is again stunned, trying to fathom the gulf of culture between the two civilisations. Insectoids were just so ready to throw lives away over something as trivial as a fire. Automated fire suppression systems were a vehicle staple long before humans even made it out of the solar system. Kira, as ambassador to the Insectoid people has to think fast, the insectoid impatience was legendary among the few races the humans had already met. Then she grins.
"How about, we trade you a million cubic microns of water, and you can see how our fire suppression systems work, and for the low price of only a hundred microns of uranium."
Kryaxis suddenly rears back in shock, mad clicking noises coming from his companions. "Youk liek! That is more water than has ever been in one place! Explain this betrayal!"
Kira's grin widens, "Oh, this is no betrayal, scan our storage holds if you wish proof. My offer is as solid at titanium and I await your response. Thank you for your hospitality."
Kira bows very politely with her arms crossed to her insectoid hosts, careful to follow their odd customs, while their click-filled discussion decays into chaos. As she turns to return to her vessel her grin finally vanishes. High quality uranium fuel for a few thousand gallons of water. This was going to be far easier than she expected! | 'The Conquerors of Fire'
​
During the Annual Galactic Meeting of the year 2096, a special announcement was about to take place. The President of the meeting stepped forward onto the podium and announced the following:
"I would like to welcome you to the Annual Galactic Meeting. Today is a unique day because a new race have been discovered, and have accepted our invitation to become a member of the Galactic Community! Please welcome, the Humans!"
The different galactic races stood up and started applauding the humans as they walked through the crowd. This was a historic moment for the humans as they have not only, finally, made contact with space beings, but they also established a positive relationship with them. This was truly the epitome of accomplishments.
The humans sat next to the other races and the leader of the human race sat alongside the other leaders. For some reason, after the initial introduction took place, the humans' facial expression began to change. They looked confused as if there was something that did not sit right. They all seemed to look up at the ceiling of the arena, around the walls, and alongside their path. There were flames burning. Fire everywhere. The arena was very hot and very bright. The other races did not seem bothered by it, but the humans were uncomfortable for a while before they adjusted.
The President of the meeting stood up again and said, "Please welcome the leader of the humans, John!" The arena stood silent as John approached the podium.
"Dearly beloved citizens of the galaxy, we came here today in peace. We came to explore what have never been explore before. We are here for the sake of science, humanity, and love. We are here to help and assist, and to be helped and assisted. We are students of life and we are here to learn".
John stopped a bit then said, "... I would also like to address the situation of fire in this arena. I believe it is decorative? I also believe this is a great fire hazard and would threaten the lives of many lovely citizens in here. I would love it if we start this wonderful relationship by having our firefighters come in here and secure the area from any fire hazards. This would be our token of friendship and love to you, citizens of the galaxy!"
There was a moment of silence, and confusion. Gasps were heard all around the arena. The President of the meeting stood up and walked towards John and asked him in front of everyone, "Firefighters? You mean, you have people who kill fire?" "Well yes of course! Fire could be useful, but it is also harmful", replied John. The people around the arena seemed to be confused, scared, but curious. "We, as the people of the galaxy, have always seen fire to be a symbol of strength and determination. Nothing seems to stop fire, and fire eats everything. It is the closest thing we have to an undying power! Those who control the fire can control the universe!", said the President. John was very intrigued by that explanation and replied, "Well fire could be put out by water, and even smaller flames could be blown off! Would you like me to demonstrate?" "... You mean now? You? As a single human individual, can take out this magnificent beast? I could not believe it even if I see it!", answered the President of the meeting. "Here, let me show you," replied John as he walks off the platform and approached the smallest flame in the room. The arena stood up to take a better look at what was going on. This must be madness they thought. This could not be possible!
John, slowly, approached the flame and gently blew at it. The flame was gone. Fire has been defeated. Not a single noise came from the crowd.
"Here, see! Very easy!" John said happily. Then, as he turned around, he saw the entire crowd and their leaders on their knees. They were bowing down to John and to the human race. Their new gods. The new and magnificent protectors of the universe. The conquerors of fire. And that was how the human race conquered the universe.
​
EDIT1: WHOOPSSSS!!!! Can’t believe I made that mistake! I know LY are a measure of distance! hahaha to be fair it was 3 am when I wrote it! I deleted that bit anyway.
Also, to be fair now that i’m reading it again there is some flow mistakes, i did rush it because i wanted to sleep though! Thank you all for your feedback! 🤗🤗 | 2018-10-11T01:46:44 | 2018-10-11T01:38:52 | 2,378 | 311 |
[WP] You, 16 years old, wake up and head downstairs for breakfast before school. You’re eating cereal when you see the Missing Kid poster on the milk carton. It’s you. Date missing: 10 years ago. | "Not this crap again," I muttered.
I finished chewing the spoonful of cereal I'd just shoved in my mouth and hopped up to grab a sharpie marker from my dad's kitchen counter. I sat back down and grabbed the milk carton. I bit the top of the marker and uncapped it. The marker made a tiny 'pop' sound. I turned the carton towards me and drew a line through the word "Missing" until it was nothing more than a large black rectangle. I grabbed a post-it note and placed it carefully over my six year old portrait.
I wrote in block letters. "We know, Mom. It's called Divorce."
I went back to my cereal and realizing that it was all gone, I tilted the bowl towards my mouth and drained the last of the sweet sugary milk at the bottom. I emptied the milk carton in the sink and tossed it in the recycle bin. I cleared my bowl from the table and headed back upstairs.
"See ya later, Dad," I said.
"See ya, kid," he saluted me.
Halfway down the stairs, on my way out the door, I stopped.
"Dad?," I shouted up to him, "We're out of milk!," and with that I walked out the door for school. | I woke up. It was sunny outside, and I got up. I was slightly tired from all the homework I did last night, but I just needed breakfast and I would be fine.
At the kitchen, my mom was wearing headphones while washing dishes. I came to the table, cereal and milk already out on the table. I took the cereal, and poured into my bowl. Next came the milk. I poured it in, bubbling with its cold frostiness mixed with the delicious wheat thins. I took a bite as I set the milk carton down.
I spat out my bite as soon as I saw the side of the milk carton. It was a picture of me, or someone that looked eerily close to me. “MISSING: 10 YEARS AGO.” Although I was 16 years old, My heart sank.
I came up to my mom with the milk carton. “What’s this?” I said, poking her and showing her the side of the carton.
She took off her headphones, snatched it, and chucked it into the trash. “It’s just some kid. Don’t worry about it.”
“Mom! That milk was still good!” I wailed, going to the trash to retrieve it. My mom stood in the way. “It doesn’t matter. Get your stuff, the bus is almost here.”
“What’s going on!? explain!” I said, on the verge of tears. I was scared.
My mom started crying, slumping to the floor. “I can’t do this anymore...”
“Do what? MOM!” I yelled.
She looked up at me.
“10 years ago, I learned I was barren. I couldn’t have children. I was depressed. Then I saw you, at a park. You were beautiful, you were the son I deserved. I stole you. I stole you away, but I loved you. I’ve always loved you, you are my son. I’m sorry.”
I sat there, my mind exploding, my mom crying in front of me. It explained everything. Why I never had a dad. Why my mom would always hide me when I was younger. I realized the picture was similar to me, because they used that computer thing to calculate what a person looks like when they’re older, without actually seeing them.
My world was destroyed in a matter of minutes.
The bus arrived outside. | 2018-11-08T21:32:42 | 2018-11-08T21:09:36 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] A classic ‘knight saves princess’ story, but the narrator is utterly insane. | Once upon a time -- 8:37 AM, to be precise ( but the exact year was lost \[ no I don't know who lost the year \] ) -- a beautiful and sad princess with golden hairs and a name of flower, was prisoner of an evil dragon -- though she deserved her fate, because she was a \*\*\*\* and is totally NOT a insertion of my EX, now that I think about it, she doesn't even deserve to be in a story so there is NO PRINCESS in the prison -- so the evil and greedy dragon was guarding his tower.
Fortunately for -- wait, I need a princess for my story to work, so there WAS a princess in the tower, but with RED hairs so NOT like my EX -- so fortunately for the princess, a knight had heard of her distress, and was on his way to save her.
Music!
*At the highest point of the Mount Ka-Lhon.*
*Live a big! A bad! And evil dragon.*
*A legendary beast! Feared among us!*
*That's the story of the Red Princess!*
​
*The brave and courageous knight Hector.*
*Was about to slay it with its armor!*
*And mm... lala la la la!*
*La la lalala and with its horse!*
​
*At the highest point of the Mount Ka-Lhon.*
*Live a big! A bad! And evil dragon.*
*A legendary beast! Feared among us!*
*That's the story of the Red Princess!*
​
*... .... and courageous knight Hector.*
*...*
​
Well, let's stop the with music, the lyrics are not that good anyway.
Lets focus on the story. So, Hector -- the name of the knight ( sometimes people don't understand it, that's why I remind it to you \[ no, that's not my name, mine is Ecthor, that's not the same etymology at all \] ) -- was about to save the princess and kill the dragon -- oh, spoiler, sorry -- where was I?
In front of the tower, Hector summon the dragon: "*Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn*" -- Wait, THAT was not on the script! --
I was saying, Hector summon the dragon: "Come here, evil creature!" And the dragon answer "I, *Ph'nglui*, is here to protect the tower, containing *mglw'nafh*, the red Princess, if you want to enter, you will need to kill me!"
Using all its ruse, Hector shot "E4!". The dragon fly and come in front of Hector saying "By *Cthulhu*, chess it is: E5."
And then Hector jump with its *R'lyeh* \-- I mean its sword, sorry -- on the dragon *wgah'nagl* \-- or whatever was its name --, and kill it by surprise!
Then, the red princess, *fhtagn* \-- not sure about the name -- great our hero and they both sing together!
Sing with me, same as the previous song:
​
*At the highest point of the Mount Ka-Lhon*
*Live a big! ... dragon?... la la Iä, Iä, Cthulhu fhtagn*
*Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn*
*Ph'nglui mglw'nafh ... the Red Princess!*
​
*The brave and courageous knight Hector.*
*Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn*
*Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn*
*Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn*
​
*Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn*
*Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn*
*Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn*
*Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn* | "Hey, you."
"You there."
"Want to hear a story? It's a good one, and it's true."
"I know it's true."
"What you don't believe me?"
"I'll prove it when the story is told."
"Trust me."
"Please."
"Thank you, I'll tell it like it happened."
"It all started ten years ago, back in the days of war. In the days where men and women were killed in the streets by roaming bands of soldiers. They were dark days -- evil days, twisted days, maligned, maladjusted, malodorous, malignant, mal...mal... Another word that begins with mal -- mal means bad don't you know. Anyway, it was a mal time to be in your Kingdom."
"The mal Empire which neighbors the Kingdom was convinced your Princess was a witch. They declared war, a war to 'root out the evil of your land'. You were poorly prepared. How could you prepare? You loved your Princess. She was fair as something which was very pale, beautiful. I remember she was beautiful. Divine. The first time I saw her, my heart nearly stopped in my chest. She was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I was in love. I think we all were."
"The Empire struck hard. The Empire stuck quickly. They kidnapped the Princess and stole her away, locking her in the tallest tower of an enchanted castle. The people of your Kingdom were shocked, but still, a call was put out to all the knights of the land. "Bring our daughter back, and you will be given her hand to wed," the old king had said. He was a kindly old man, he liked to sing you know."
"Anyway, the Prince of a nearby Kingdom answered the call. He and five, or was it six? No, definitely probably five. Maybe. Anyway, five-ish people accompanied the Prince. They were strong lads, good lads, the opposite of mal lads. My lads? No, that's stupid. Anyway, they were bold and brash, brave, and benevolent, b..be...I know there's another word for them."
"Starts with a b."
"Beneficent?" they asked.
"Sure, that's a good one. Thanks."
"They set out on a quest, a quest to rescue the maiden from the tallest tower. They fought many bandits, killed trolls, and even fought a dragon. Have you eaten dragon? Tastes like lizard and sulfur. Terrible. As they closed in towards the tower, odd things began to happen. Creatures attacked the party in the woods. Creatures that never would have been hostile before. We—they killed squirrels by the score, frogs in their hundreds. I can't think how many woodland creatures died on their swords."
"They waded through blood and flesh to reach the tower. Eventually, they cut their way in through the door. They were outnumbered by the tower guard, but they movements were off. They moved like puppets, jerky and odd. The party cut their strings, the poor bastards. Bloody and bruised, the party finally found the chamber where the Princess would be held. They would finally save her."
"The Prince had his doubts now. He had seen strange works, witnessed many odd occurrences. He went in alone. She sat in the tower room, overlooking the land through a great window. She sat on what had been a couple guards. They had twisted themselves into the shape of a chair. She was using them as furniture. "Thank you for coming gallant knight" she said. Her words were like knives in the skull, the Prince felt pain, unimaginable pain. He wanted to bow, to serve this Princess, this woman who would be Queen."
"She walked up to the Prince and she smiled. Her smile was like ivory, her face was carved silver, her eyes shone like rubies in the night. Truly she was beautiful, beatific, brilliant, beauteous...She was evil. He knew that. He knew she was mal, that she needed to die. He knew that his will couldn't hold out forever...."
"I think more than anything, she was surprised when he stabbed her. When he stabbed her with his thrice blessed sword. She became very ugly as she died, screaming and wailing, crying and begging, and finally she cursed as she died. She didn't swear, no, she didn't swear. She reached out her hand and she...and she...and she..."
"She touched the Prince's forehead. As she died, she said, "As long as you live, you will be nothing. Your people will not know you. Your family will mourn you as dead. Your friends will think you a stranger. And no one, will ever believe your tale, no matter how you tell it. They will kick you, and call you a madman. You will die, a crazed beggar."
"She smiled as she died. I think that last curse made her truly happy, gave her pleasure."
"You see, I am that Prince. I saved your Kingdom from the witch-Queen to be."
"I know that all you hear right now is crazed rambling. I suppose I'm starting to feel a bit mad in truth.... I know that you stay only because you are frightened. I'm sorry. Sometimes I just have to tell the story."
"It helps me cope."
My story told, I sit down on the cobbled path, my home in the alley. The woman steps away from me slowly. As she turns to run, I hear her say, "Mad beggar! People like you ought to die, save the rest of us trouble."
Leaning my head back against the wall, I cry.
I had told the woman I'd prove it to her. I guess that proved what I'd said just fine.
Just fine.
____________
/r/SirLemoncakes
| 2018-12-21T05:38:00 | 2018-12-21T05:08:33 | 64 | 23 |
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand! | "He knows!" you think as you gaze at the, stone faced, long haired, man in the seat across from you. The plane rattles and shakes. Still, his gaze is fixed upon you. You wipe your brow even though it is frigid in the military cargo plane.
"Some turbulence, eh?" you offer wishing you hadn't accepted the mission.
He reaches his long delicate fingers into a small bag attached to his jeans and you unconsciously flinch. You think it is a perfectly normal reaction. You have watched Kojim's videos on vidtube and his supernatural dexterity, reaction time, and technique paired with an unparalleled aura of coolness made him one of the most popular and dangerous men on earth.
He takes out a pad and a pen.
"You give me autograph, please?" he asks
"Sure?" you reply.
He immediately starts taking out action figures, dvds, and posters out of the bag.
"For my friends?" he says stars in his eyes.
You quickly sign them and return to your thoughts as Kojim marvels over his haul.
This was the fifth "world ending" mission you have embarked on and the knot in your stomach has only grown bigger each time. You know that your luck can't possibly continue. After the first mission things snowballed and between the endorsement deals, the tv series, and talk show appearances you have found yourself in a corner. At least with the money you could commission the metallic suit you are wearing now. With cybernetic enhancements and a personal artificial intelligence program it was the most cutting edge piece of technology on earth. And it was being worn by a fraud.
"Drop zone approaching!" a bodiless voice whispers in your head.
You nod towards Koji and you both stand up.
"It is an honor to fight with you!" he says back to being a stone faced cool guy.
"Yeah, yeah, lets get this over with!" you reply.
The cargo door opens and you both jump from the plane into the murky darkness.
​ | I remember the day it all started. It was early in the morning, so early the sun was just starting to peak over the mountains casting the sky in shades of red and purple.
I was walking down to the local Coffee shop, it was only just a few blocks down from where I lived. Coffee tasted horrible mind you, but I didn’t really care it was cheap and convenient.
When I got there I was quite surprised to see it was being surrounded by police. When I tried to ask one of the officers what was happening none of them responded at first, because they were all whispering to each other and pointing at me. One of the officers ran up to our local sheriff and brought him over to me. He sighed in relief when he saw me “Thank God you’re here. So here’s the situation, the super villain known as the Caffeinhater has taken everyone in the building hostage for a ransom of a hundred million dollars. We need you to go in there and put a stop to his villainy.”
I was about to call him a lunatic for wanting me to go in and stop a hostage situation. Oh and for claiming their being held hostage by a super villain!
But before I could he started to push me towards the door to the coffee shop. I tried to fight back but the older man was to strong for me, and he shoved me inside. After getting shoved past the door I lost balance and fell onto the ground. As I slowly picked myself off the ground I was able to get a good look around the room, two things immediately caught my attention. The first one being the small group of people huddled tightly together and then standing in front of them... oh wow that must be Caffeinhater.
He was wearing almost all black spandex expect for a logo on the back of it that had a white coffee mugged crossed out. He looked to be about four hundred pounds of pure muscle. He Hadn’t noticed me yet because his back was turned to me as he tried to instruct his hostages in the evils of caffeine. (Via screaming at them about it.” I began to try to sneak away but one of the old wooden boards underneath me creaked. He quickly turned around and instead of a look of anger quickly followed by his fist in my face, he had a look absolute fear quickly followed by him raising his hands in the air. “I surrender!” After that I had to awkwardly escort the much larger man outside to much cheers and applause.
Ever since that day whenever I wasn’t out to work plumbing, I’ve kept running into similar situations that always end the same way. Honestly it baffled me for a while, I had no superpowers as far as I could tell, I wasn’t the strongest or most intimidating guy. Honestly I’m more on the overweight side then anything else. But today I think I figured out what my power is. Its honestly was very simple now that I think about it. My power obviously is
Hope you enjoyed it. Any criticism is welcome! God bless!
Edit. Just edited it so it’s less of a block of text like one of the comments recommend. | 2019-02-05T08:39:40 | 2019-02-05T06:51:55 | 197 | 45 |
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand! | I’ve always been a loner.
Growing up, my overly protective single mother rarely let me out of the house. I was homeschooled, so I didn’t have many friends.
It was only at age 17, after my mother’s death that things got weird. I didn’t understand it at the time, but my whole world would change.
When my mother died, I had to start taking care of myself, starting with finances. It all started with a trip to the bank to figure out what to do with my mother’s bank account. I was speaking in a private room with one of the bank managers, when a man ran in waving a gun.
The robber was yelling at the tellers to fill bags with cash and yelling for everyone to come out to the foyer and lay down. I stood and left the room to follow his demands, but the second we locked eyes, he let out a big breath and simply walked right up to me and handed me his gun. He just kept saying “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
At that exact moment, the cops burst through the door. They looked between me and the robber, confused as to who to apprehend, when finally the manager jumped in front of me and said “it’s him you want!”
Everyone hailed me as a hero, but I had no clue what had happened. I was so confused.
Later that night, I was cooking dinner with the television on when I heard a news cast about the robbery. Curious, I walked over to get a better look.
A reporter was asking the handcuffed robber what made him hand his gun over to a stranger.
His said “It was that man. He filled me with a sense of peace and calm. In that moment, I realized what I was doing was beneath me and I didn’t want to have any part of it anymore. I was instantly filled with regret.”
Since then, all I have to do is be in the presence of someone considering evil, and it changes their minds. Big or small, young or old, it affects everyone the same. | I remember the day it all started. It was early in the morning, so early the sun was just starting to peak over the mountains casting the sky in shades of red and purple.
I was walking down to the local Coffee shop, it was only just a few blocks down from where I lived. Coffee tasted horrible mind you, but I didn’t really care it was cheap and convenient.
When I got there I was quite surprised to see it was being surrounded by police. When I tried to ask one of the officers what was happening none of them responded at first, because they were all whispering to each other and pointing at me. One of the officers ran up to our local sheriff and brought him over to me. He sighed in relief when he saw me “Thank God you’re here. So here’s the situation, the super villain known as the Caffeinhater has taken everyone in the building hostage for a ransom of a hundred million dollars. We need you to go in there and put a stop to his villainy.”
I was about to call him a lunatic for wanting me to go in and stop a hostage situation. Oh and for claiming their being held hostage by a super villain!
But before I could he started to push me towards the door to the coffee shop. I tried to fight back but the older man was to strong for me, and he shoved me inside. After getting shoved past the door I lost balance and fell onto the ground. As I slowly picked myself off the ground I was able to get a good look around the room, two things immediately caught my attention. The first one being the small group of people huddled tightly together and then standing in front of them... oh wow that must be Caffeinhater.
He was wearing almost all black spandex expect for a logo on the back of it that had a white coffee mugged crossed out. He looked to be about four hundred pounds of pure muscle. He Hadn’t noticed me yet because his back was turned to me as he tried to instruct his hostages in the evils of caffeine. (Via screaming at them about it.” I began to try to sneak away but one of the old wooden boards underneath me creaked. He quickly turned around and instead of a look of anger quickly followed by his fist in my face, he had a look absolute fear quickly followed by him raising his hands in the air. “I surrender!” After that I had to awkwardly escort the much larger man outside to much cheers and applause.
Ever since that day whenever I wasn’t out to work plumbing, I’ve kept running into similar situations that always end the same way. Honestly it baffled me for a while, I had no superpowers as far as I could tell, I wasn’t the strongest or most intimidating guy. Honestly I’m more on the overweight side then anything else. But today I think I figured out what my power is. Its honestly was very simple now that I think about it. My power obviously is
Hope you enjoyed it. Any criticism is welcome! God bless!
Edit. Just edited it so it’s less of a block of text like one of the comments recommend. | 2019-02-05T08:58:15 | 2019-02-05T06:51:55 | 113 | 45 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | The men in the room stared at me. I stared back. We stayed like this for a while, hours maybe, without a word. Occasionally, someone would cough or sneeze, one of the agents even burped, but those moments were few and far between. At this point, it almost seemed like a competition on who would crack first and break the silence. All I knew is I wanted to leave soon.
I hadn’t been in the city very many times before this. I was never a big fan, and never could understand why someone would want to spend their life here. The colors were dark, the noises were loud, the air smelled reeked of cigarettes and engine exhaust, but still there were more people on a street block than I had met in my entire life. Perhaps it was the fact they never seemed to look up from their cell phones, or perhaps they didn’t realize there was anything more to the world, but either way, it never clicked with me. Even the muffled noise from the chatter and daily grind inside the room was overwhelming. Eventually, the tension got to me, and I decided to speak up.
“Why am I still here?”
After a brief silence, I received a reply.
“We’re not allowed to answer that question.”
I took a short moment to process this information, before my brow furrowed. Shortly after, I spoke again.
“Why not?”
This time, another agent spoke, picking up where the last left off without skipping a beat.
“We’re waiting for someone.”
Another brief pause followed.
“What kind of someone?”
I didn’t receive a response, and the room fell silent yet again.
I had my ideas, obviously. Whatever this was, it was clear it wasn’t routine. It had to do with my scan. I was good at something, something that made me a commodity to someone. After all, if it wasn’t important, I doubt having 6 people in the room blocking the exit would be a good use of resources. After that, though, is where it became more speculation for me. I wasn’t the strongest, I wasn’t the fastest, and I wasn’t getting any awards for my Violin skills, either. The guards didn’t seem nervous, so I likely wasn’t an immediate threat either. If the guards weren’t there to stop me, then they were there for something else. They were there to protect me. I felt a shiver go down my spine as my mind quickly swerved into the worst case scenarios, when suddenly, a noise could be heard. A door opening. The men moved out of the way in coordination, like soldiers lining up for their commander. That was the first time I saw him.
He looked unsettlingly casual compared to everyone else in the room. His hair was grey and unkempt, with a baseball cap on his head and sandals on his feet. A chair was brought into the room by another faceless man in black, and he sat down. Then, he laughed.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost! I know I’m quite old, but I assure you I’m still very much alive.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to respond. Thankfully, I didn’t need to.
“You’re wondering why you’re here. You’ve already surmised that these guards are here to protect you, and you’re not exactly ‘normal’.”
Again, I was petrified to even say a word. I felt like was going to die.
“You’re not going to die.”
That got my attention and suddenly, as well as unwillingly, the questions poured out of my mouth like word soup.
“Who are you? Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble? I want to go home, why am I still here?”
The man laughed again for a short moment, as I grew more frustrated. I looked away, like a child pouting about a toy.
“I’m sorry. You’re scared, I shouldn’t be laughing.”
His preppy smile faded, and shifted to a more serious frown. He went from sitting straight up to leaning with a sympathetic hunch down over the table. Realizing how stupid I probably looked, I looked forward again, yet keeping my eyes at the ground. Feeling that he had my attention again, he promptly continued speaking.
“If I told you that I didn’t feel the same way my whole life after this point, I’d be a liar. I had a family too.”
Had. Pretense. I didn’t like where this was going.
“They’re still alive, but no, I don’t think you’ll like where this is going.”
Again. He had predicted my thoughts perfectly. It was no longer a coincidence.
“You’re not going home. If I could hide what we found today, I’d gladly give my life for it, but you and me are different. Your kind of talent won’t appear on the list, because as far as the world is aware we don’t exist. I need you to look at me.”
A lot of information, plus a lot of things you don’t want to hear, followed by a command. I had had enough. I erupted, threw my chair at the wall, and then he got the eye contact he wanted and more.
“Why the hell should I do that!? Why should I listen to you, who the hell are you to tell me what to do!? The city is a shitshow, and I am NOT staying here! Give me one good reason, one, I shouldn’t try to leave right now?”
“Because neither of our mouths have moved this entire time.”
I stopped. His voice wasn’t coming from the room. It was, in fact in my head.
“Kid...you’re a psychic.” | "Oh god, please nothing with horses, I knew I would regret that night with Fred."
That fear sitting at the back of my mind, I drag my feet towards the terminal and begin punching in my user ID.
"Ah, shit, what was it..."
"6-1-3...." The thought trails off trying to remember the number I've only used once or twice before.
"6-1-3-5...? No... That can't be right."
I think for a bit, and then it hits me, Ma had given me the number before I left!
I fish around in my pockets and find the crumpled piece of paper I carelessly shoved in there. Unfolding it, it reads: 61394539.
I hunt and peck on the keypad, entering the number as it reads on the paper, and watch the terminal come to life. All kinds of shades of blue flashing before my eyes, icons appearing and disappearing, I think I saw an animal in there? Can't be sure, it just goes way too fast. Finally, it finishes. Looking at my stats, things look relatively normal. As far as I can tell most of the stats have me at the average for most things, but severely lacking in others. Until I see one that catches my eye.
"Most Planets Visited: Eric Harrison" the terminal read.
"How... Is that even possible..." I thought to myself as I read this. "I've lived on Earth all this time, my family has been tending to this ranch for centuries..." I look around the room and all eyes are on me. Clearly everyone has seen this ranking.
I continue scrolling, and that wasn't the only #1 rank I held, to my surprise.
"Most civilizations destroyed: Eric Harrison"
"Number of planetary annihilations: Eric Harrison"
Finally, I reach the bottom of the list, and this if the others weren't bad enough of a joke, this one had to take the cake.
"Number of inter-species relations: Eric Harrison"
"Oh, come on, this is just sick!" I feel sick to my stomach reading the rankings I've received continuously labeling me as a freak, a total monster, someone who should be locked away, an intergalactic warmonger with a thirst for chaos and destruction.
Finally, I decide I've had enough, and try to find the log out button so that others can have their turn. As I walk away, confused and sickened, a couple of guards approach me.
"Excuse me sir, could you come with us?" the one on the right asks, as the one on the left has his hand to his holster.
"Sure, I suppose... What's this about anyway?" I ask out of confusion, beginning to follow them.
They don't reply, but instead I'm corralled into a room with a desk in the center, a bar for handcuffs, and what appears to be a mirror for one of the walls.
"Hey, what's the meaning of this!? I've done nothing wrong!" I yell as they're now getting forceful and shove me into the room, as they slam the door behind me.
I repeatedly bash on the door, hoping someone will free me, but minutes go by, and then hours, and eventually I lose motivation.
Finally, the speaker comes on.
"We've trapped you in a level 12 containment ward. You cannot escape any longer, Jenthar." a voice echoes through the room, "It's been 18 long years, but we finally found you. Thought you were clever hiding as the nobody on a ranch, huh?" the man on the other side cackles like a madman finally getting his drug fix after a withdrawal.
The walls of the room suddenly melt away as I see nothing but a purple and black void around me. Almost like two different colors of paint being lazily mixed together, but not blending.
Suddenly, I feel a huge headache, the memories flowing back. I see planets of all different sizes and compositions being blasted to smithereens, entire cities being uprooted and eaten by an unspeakable horror. Only... That horror was me... I'm seeing these despicable acts from the first person, tentacles grabbing large skyscrapers and shoveling them into my mouth.
I remember being weakened by a counter-assault on RB-1345, a recently terraformed planet orbiting SC-16384, home to the relatively new space-faring species, humans. I retreated to RB-1344, home to the humans, and use the last of my energy to implant myself into the womb of a pregnant mother.
"Ah.. Yes.." My facade of a personality washes away as the human boy, Eric Harrison, is replaced by Jenthar.
"This is far from over, Commander Warwick, for I am Jenthar! Consumer of worlds, conqueror of galaxies, drinker of infant fluids!" The blue of my eyes turns to red, tentacles beginning to protrude out of the pores of my skin, tearing my flesh apart.
"You were a fool to trust this lackadaisical confinement." I cackle as I begin warping the space-time around me, the colors of the dimension blending and fading and the light seeming to bend around me, sort of how a black hole contorts the light around it. Before they knew it, I was gone. Their puny "level 12 containment ward" was no match for the strength I had gained from going through the tedium that is human childhood. I feed on others' fear and suffering, and seeing all the suffering around Eric was enough to allow me to recover from my injuries and find new strength.
"Who..." I hear a voice in my head, seeming to cut off their sentence in shock as the stars whip past me.
"...Eric?" I ask, surprised the boy even lived past consumption.
"Yeah... Who are you? Am I blind? Why can't I see?" I feel my left hand raise up to my face, sort of patting my face.
"Would you stop that!?" Jenthar bats back with his right hand, their left hand falling back to Jenthar's side.
"Look, kid, this ain't gonna be easy to explain to you... But unless you finally die off like I intended for you to, you're along for the long haul. Just, don't get in the way." I grimace as we approach our first fill-up of the week, I guess you could call it an Earth-like planet, known as RB-1390, and come in for the landing. | 2019-05-04T12:44:12 | 2019-05-04T10:22:43 | 1,055 | 165 |
[WP] A traveling alien passes by and on a whim solves everything: infinite food, energy, perfectly balanced ecosystem, and portals everywhere lead to thousands of unpopulated Earth like lands with no downside. Obviously, world leaders are outraged. | It didnt take long for the walls to be built. Within hours, all of the portals that the western governments could find had guards in place. Drones were in the sky, making sure no one got close, and soldiers with guns were waiting for those who managed to creep by undetected. The response was shockingly swift, and thorough. We all waited for news - what was going to be done? Not much it seemed, bar state exploration and strict laws criminalising any civilian use of a portal.
​
It was five days before the arrests started. Portals had opened inside buildings, in forests, even sitting above the surface of the ocean. The temptation was too great - who could not venture through and explore the new worlds on the other side? And at that, who could keep the secret that they had? People were imprisoned, their hidden gates discovered and sealed with great steel doors. It felt wrong to me. Concern was understandable, we had no idea what might be on the other side. But people should not have been taken the way they were.
​
Three weeks after the arrival, rumours were spreading of private corporations and militias having secured their own portals. Private security forces set up in the Nepalese mountains, guarding a cluster of portals found near the base of Mt Lhotse. A steady stream of heavy machinery flowed through the portals, and with them people, the promise of a new society of freedoms beckoning them in. In the west, we were still waiting.
​
Six months later the soldiers were gone. The portals that had been sealed were cracked open, with those that had claimed their own withdrawing through them once they realised it would be easier to defend from the other side. Trade routes were open, raw resources coming through Earth and being traded, and machinery for extraction being built and sent through. New civilisations had been born, and our planet plunged into chaos. What had less than a year ago been all we knew, was now little more than a central hub for rouge worlds. Countries lost their meaning, as there were now thousands of worlds that one could choose to call home.
​
It has been forty years since the portals arrived. I think about those days often, when we kept each other in check. A lot of good, and a lot of evil have come in the years since, and I am left wondering what we might have become if the portals had not arrived. Now ideals are religions, and devision is rife. Perhaps we were never meant to flourish.
​
​
​
Thank you for reading :) I hope the end was satisfying - its 5 am here and im preeeetty exhausted so I feel I mightve dropped off a bit there. Its been fun to write again though :D <3 | "I feel unappreciated by my people," Xi said first, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over the room once Putin ripped his shirt off, revealing the aging torso of a formerly muscular man. Atop a horse or a tank, it struck fear into enemy's hearts. On the office chair, it was an underwhelming attempt at being macho. Regardless, Donald oohed and aahed at him and fixed his toupe.
"Don't be an Eeyore, Winnie," Putin snarked at Xi and then chuckled to himself. The Chinese man's face turned red with embarrassment but he held little power over the Russian and they had already established the need for cooperation.
"I have a plan," Donald said once he was done marveling his Russian counterpart. The other two leaned forwards in anticipation, eagerly awaiting news of their salvation. "I can't tell you the details, but I have one," Donald continued and Putin rolled his eyes and sat back in the chair. The aliens would have barely been a blip on the timeline of humanity had it not been for their overwhelmingly charitable spirit. In an effort to end the issues that had plagued humans since the beginning of time, they had simply solved them. Just like that, they had done away with hunger and with energy shortages and pollution and extinction and droughts and overpopulation. People basked in the perfection of a thousand Earth-like planets with plenty of land for everybody to enjoy and enough food for everybody to grow a belly like these plump former leaders had.
"That worked with your people but it will not work here," Putin chastised, shaking his head. It was true. The president of what was formerly the United States - until the borders of countries more or less dissolved as portals appeared everywhere and people migrated to and from as they pleased - had found that the promise of plans meant far more than the plans themselves. On this stage however, he found he was expected to match his words with actions, something time had proved him nearly incapable of doing. "This communism is too perfect," Putin commented with an ironic chuckle and Xi glared at him. It wasn't supposed to work like this. If everybody had everything they needed, nobody needed the government, as the three had discovered. The essence of their previous communisms had been in the abundant corruption that kept the people needy and the leaders happy. Other leaders had simply taken an early retirement and decided to spend time with their families while others committed premature suicide when they spotted the aliens. These three, desperate for the power that made them feel fulfilled, had formed a second coming of the Big Three and were desperately concocting their ill-conceived plan.
"Let's build a wall," Trump announced and Xi looked up at the ceiling as if wishing for a lightning bolt to save him from this boorish man's company. "We'll have the aliens pay for it," he continued and Putin massaged his temples and closed his eyes. "Oh they'll love to pay for it - I talked to them... We're on great terms, great friends... and they said... They told me since they know I can get a deal done, they said they'd pay, the aliens said," Trump finished, gesturing randomly with his hands as if trying to help his point.
"And all of this?" Putin asked, waving out the window at the land of plenty and at the happy people on the city streets.
"Not my problem," Trump said, standing up and sort of straightening his ill-fitting suit. "All we have to do is say we have a solution, they'll start following us again and then we let the next president deal with it."
"Get out," the other two said in clear indignation. "There will be no other president if we don't find a way to break the curse the aliens have cast upon our world."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-06-06T10:15:11 | 2019-06-06T08:46:50 | 1,508 | 380 |
[WP] You are a super hero, but without any powers. You are one of the most important heros, but marginally unknown. You are a therapist who works exclusively with heros and villians alike. Because they are people too. | “Why did he change?” the hero asked. “I used to look up to him, you know that. But then he started murdering…”
“People change,” the therapist said. “You think you know them, but things always change.”
“But that’s something that’s not supposed to change. What you believe in, good or evil. I don’t understand…”
“You will always stay focused, committed? You are that certain of your ideals?”
“Of course, doctor,” the hero said in his steadfast, certain way.
\-
“He looked like you,” the doctor said. “In that moment. I wanted to believe him.”
“Just like you believed me,” the villain said with a sad smile.
“Don’t be sad. I have never blamed you.”
“But do you agree with what he says? That you are not supposed to change?”
“No,” the doctor said. “A hero always fails, of course. What happens next, what they become next, no one can tell.”
“And what will he become?”
\-
“I realized it today, doctor,” the hero said, a faraway look in his eyes. “Something he once said to me.”
“What?”
“That they don’t love you. They love what you can do for them, and when you don’t or can’t do that anymore, they will throw you aside.”
“What happened?”
“A routine call, like anything else. A jumper on the roof. I’ve done it so many times. But this time, she didn’t listen. And I couldn’t fly down fast enough to save her…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Her mother, the utter hate in her eyes when she looked at me. She blamed me. Like I hadn’t been me, her daughter would be alive. Like…I was the villain.”
“You know that’s not your fault.”
“I know,” the hero said quietly. “But if they don’t know, what’s the difference?”
The doctor did not answer, knowing it was a question the hero had to answer for himself.
\-
“It’s happening,” the doctor said. “He failed for the first time.”
“And what do you think will happen?” the villain asked.
“You know I want more than ever for this to change nothing. For him to still believe in what he believes. But you see it too many times in my profession. Failure changes them. Warps them.”
“Like it warped me.”
“And I can’t change it one way or another,” the doctor said. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. You have to let the balance play out.”
“But he’ll be better,” the villain said, his long-dormant idealism returning for one moment. “I know my little brother is made of more than me.”
“I hope so,” the doctor said.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | Some superheroes are out and about saving the world. They've got crazy superpowers like flying or shooting laser beams out of their eyes or beating up criminals. That's not me. It never has been and, given my rather mundane and limited powers, it never will be. I play a different role. You won't read about me in your local newspaper or hear them interviewing me on TV. If this were a musical, I wouldn't even be in the supporting cast. I would be in the back, directing the stage crew and pulling the ropes.
I don't discriminate based on who kills who or whether you are technically a hero or a villain. We're all the good guys in our own stories and the bad guys in somebody else's story. I'm not here to judge and I'm not here to snitch. So these people come to me. They talk to me about their problems for hours on end - paying me generously with money whose origins I do not ask about - and when they leave my office, I like to think I've made a positive impact. If not on society, then at least on their lives. And if not on their lives, then at least on mine. It's not an easy career, regardless of which direction you take it in.
Don't you think the guy who razes entire city blocks with fireballs suffers from PTSD? Do you really think he can go home to his wife in the evening and talk to her about how many people he killed? Likewise, how do you think the people fighting the criminals deal with the stress of their daily lives? They can't stress eat, that's for sure. Most of them have some chiseled figure they need to maintain to uphold their public image. Rippling abs, bulging biceps, all of that. Not the one-pack and flab that I'm allowed to rock. The pressure is unbearable, the expectations unattainable. So they come and talk to me.
My powers aren't the traditional kind you read about in comic books. I just convince people that it's okay to talk to me. Once I get them talking, they don't stop for a while. And inevitably, the conversation turns. Regardless of what you hear, most of these heroes and villains don't abide by a code of conduct themselves. The bad ones work hard to look as mean as possible, but they have pets and kids and families, just like anybody else. The good ones work hard to be look as good as possible, but now and then they indulge in a dark fantasy too. That carefully tailored image has little loose threads here and there, and eventually the conversation gets there. I grab one of those threads and I start to pull, and soon enough the whole persona is crumbling and I feel a hint of the excitement they must feel when they're soaring through the sky or fighting off a dozen assailants. And just before it all threatens to collapse, I pause. "We want the same thing, you and me, you know?" I tell them. They look up, sometimes with tear-filled eyes. "I know that a lot of people wouldn't be very pleased to hear about what you do," I say, barely veiling the threat. "You want to keep your image?" They nod. They always do. Good or bad, hero or villain, they always nod. They've worked hard to create that image and they don't know what I'm hiding that might make it all disappear.
I nod sympathetically. "Then we have a deal," I tell them. "Consider me your marketing agent. Your associate. Just listen to my suggestions and you'll be just fine." And then we shake hands and off they go. I check off another name on my list. Another hero or villain compromised. Another cast member ready to be directed.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-07-25T15:25:22 | 2019-07-25T11:51:59 | 62 | 23 |
[WP] You are a side character in a typical dystopian young adult novel. All your life been living happilly in the background but recently, the main character started talking to you more- you even got a an entire arc. But you suddenly realized: the author is bulding you up to be killed for the drama. | The tall strapping young hero put an arm on my shoulder as we vanquished the vile beast. "Well done, Bob. You've done really well."
"Thanks Thomas. I mean, that was fun. That was really fun. Beats hanging around the treehouse in the background all day."
"You know, Bob, you've been such a valuable player to the team. I don't know what we'd do without you."
*Oh God.*
"At the start you were kind of a self centred lone wolf who only fought for himself but now you have learnt to fight for the team."
*Oh no.*
"Your beautiful wife and two beautiful daughters, who miss you very much and would love to see you come home, are very lucky to have you as a father.
*Oh crap.*
"Now, why don't we march together to the lair of the Beast and fight the remaining horde so that we can escape this hell hole and return to our homes?"
"Great, Thomas, that sounds great," I said, picking up my spear. I looked cautiously at Thomas. "Say, I was thinking maybe I'll stay here, you know, and fix those leaks in roof of the treehouse. Looks like it might rain soon."
"Nonsense! We need your strength and valour on this mission."
"Excuse me for a moment," I said to Thomas. I looked up into the cloudless sky, wondering which direction to point, then picked a random one and shouted, "You can't do this to me! I've got a real fictional family now! They like me! I don't wanna go!"
"Bob?" Thomas said curiously.
"Shut up, Thomas," I said. Then I stuck the end of my spear into the ground, and threw my hands in the air. "It's no use. This is all arbitrary. One day we could be nothing and the next day the hero, and the next day dead. Only the heroes and villains stick around to the end."
Only the heroes and villains. Only they get to make it to the end. The hero, Thomas, had already been decided 15 chapters ago. But the villain had not yet been revealed, and for all I know not even determined. Perhaps there was still a vacancy.
I picked up the spear and walked towards Thomas. Thomas smiled and said, "Ready to fight?"
"Oh yes," I said. "I'm going to fight for my life." | For 12 excruciating years since the failed revolution, I’d been tirelessly slaving away for a measly can of anhydrous soup and a slice of bread. I slumbered on a cold, hard surface for precisely four designated hours under the watchful gaze of the commandant. With my callused palms serving as a cushion for my throbbing head, I often fantasized of a placid Eden, untethered by the clutches of this kleptocratic regime.
Every morning at 4:00 am a downpour of ice water awakened our chamber, doubling as our daily shower. We fell in line according to our assigned numbers and marched over to the factory to commence our 18 hour work day.
One seemingly typical morning, I was summoned to the commandants office. In a sonorous voice, the commandant read,
“No. 15 and No. 460, you have orders from the Superiors.The labor force is depleting. To remedy this problem, you two have been chosen to procreate, tonight.”
I felt a shudder up my spine, followed by sheer bewilderment. No.15 was a seasoned laborer with a much higher rank. How could this match be plausible, I wondered.
Without further ado, we were transported back to the factory for work. No. 15 walked over to me and offered help. He smiled, “Do you want to know my name?...Ahem.You’re kind of a loner huh?”
He leaned in closer and whispered,
“Gonna get you out of here. Tonight. A group of us have it all worked out.”...
“You know, I requested you. Us high rankers can choose our mate. I chose you.“
I lit up, smiled and muttered “Why me?”
“I wanted to help you. I like your face. It’s the trusty kind” he promptly responded. I was delighted at the prospect of escape and most importantly overjoyed to be deemed worthy of inclusion in such a bold plan.
Later that night, No.15 and I were escorted to the rendezvous room. The metal door slammed shut behind us, and we were alone. He embraced me and said “Hello. I hope you’re ready. We’re ditching this hell hole tonight”.
My hands were cold and trembling. He wrapped his burly hands around mine. I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling hopeful and comforted for once.
Suddenly, I felt his grip tightening and before I knew it, he had me in a choke hold with a sharp knife he had rigged up, pointed straight at my jugular. He sounded the fire alarm and a flurry of armed guards swarmed in. He screamed, “back off. You can’t afford to lose another one of us. I know work is lagging already. If you’re smart you’ll let me out of here.”
I was suffocating, my vision weakening. I had to think quick. I bit down on his arm with all my might, he howled, “You can’t stop me” and proceeded to thrust the knife in my right cheek. Bullets rained down on him, as I lay bleeding. His lofty attempt to use me as a scape goat to escape proved fruitless.
It’s been several years, but the infamous rebellion of No.15 lives on. I think about him from time to time, mostly wondering his name. | 2019-10-16T20:27:01 | 2019-10-16T16:04:49 | 31 | 12 |
[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
Edit: well this blew up | “Thanks dad you’re the best” Ana said as she went up to hug her new horse today. She was so happy and I love to see her like that but it is so difficult to parent her if your child gets whatever she wants. It is even more difficult to fend off and hide from the people that are constantly chasing her, especially while living in a bright pink house with a Farris wheel in the background, all the while trying to hide the fact that Ana is being constantly hunted. Every single time she sees and new thing she wanted or was suddenly on a new fair ride, and every night she goes to sleep she says, “thanks dad you’re the best!” . Little she knows of the gun locker I keep or the defensive perimeter around the house. Every night the men dressed in black, the grave amassing in the forest behind the house, it will lead no where good and hopefully she never stops saying “thanks dad you’re the best”. However as they close in around us I fear it could be the last, finally they close in all around us and hopefully I can talk to you again but it is becoming less and less likely, Ana is up in her room now only one stairway away and yet I don’t think I will be able to see her again, it is over for me, and my only wish, to hear her say it again, “thanks dad you’re the best” | Emily was looking deep into the dark distance from the corner of the stable, far far away from the farm house. With her head stuffed against the hay she cried violently, as she does every night. But inside the house, she is happy as one can be.
"Papa" she said. "I'm leaving to live in the city". Emily, within the day was living with her adopted parents in the big bad world. Her father, Davis, cried in his wife's arms for the entire night. There was no sense of relief, they were used to the pink ponies, the toys, the endless easy-bake oven dinners, and Emily's happiness.
Emily's new parents loved Emily and Emily just wanted a normal life. She resented the perfection, she tried living in the stable for some time, but that life was also not good for her. Being home schooled wasn't what it was cracked out to be. "I love you" she now says to her new parents.
Davis couldn't find Emily in the white pages, couldn't get records, nothing. Emily must have wanted a new life, a normal life now. Davis now wished he told Emily of her power, but still couldn't accept this fate. He didn't know about the crying nights. Emily just wanted her parents to think she was happy. Emily can't help what she wants. She couldn't help that she didn't miss her life with her old parents.
All Davis had to do was tell her the truth, and she could have wanted to not get exactly what she wanted anymore. But Emily's new life started to become more and more complicated. Slowly, she started to realize what was happening. At school everyone was her friend. She couldn't resist wanting friendship as she experienced loneliness from being home schooled.
"Ugh I hate Emily, I don't know what it is about her but I feel like I have to like her because everyone else does" Delanie said in the school yard, with Emily around the corner in ear shot. She instantly wanted Delanie to not be her friend. So it made sense to her when Delanie stopped being her friend, not because its what she wanted, but because of what she heard.
Emily could never find her father, never knew she wanted to, and hence could never find happiness. Nor could Davis. He wasn't there to shelter Emily. But he saw her story in the city newspaper six years after Emily left. He wept in the corner of the stable, far far away from the farm house. | 2019-10-27T19:53:40 | 2019-10-27T18:28:57 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] You are a child therapist who treats extreme cases of children terrified of a monster in their closet. They're extreme because they're real, and you're actually secretly a demon hunter using these therapy sessions to gather intel on the monsters before killing them. | Suzy set rocking back and forth in the oversized plush chair. I had an assortment of toys and dolls for her to chose from, and she currently had a stuffed dragon clasped to her chest.
Her eyes were wide, and her breathing shallow. I could see her gripping the doll as tightly as she could.
The poor baby was terrified.
Her parents had called and made an emergency session with me, saying that she’d awoken at 1am this morning, screaming hysterically. She hadn’t calmed down since.
“Suzy honey, can you tell me what woke you up?”
Her eyes darted around the room, the poor dragon’s neck would have broken had it had a spine, and she shook her head vigorously.
“How about this, were you scared to go to bed, before you woke up?”
A tentative stare at me, but less fear. A short shake of her tousled blonde hair.
So, this was a first instance of this. Alright…
“Suzy, when you woke up, you screamed. Your mom and dad came in, and turned on the light. Did the monster go away when they opened the door, or when the light turned on.”
Her eyes widened with fear again, and she tucked her face into the plush.
“Light,” she said, the word nearly lost into the fluff.
So, whatever it was, it wasn’t afraid of her parents presence just the light.
Interesting.
I’d gotten her to speak, which is more than she’d done since she’d awoken screaming. Even if it was a single word. I doubted she’d be able to tell me any more about the monster today, but I’d do my best.
“Would you like to play a game Suzy?”
I motioned to a doll house that I had set up. I had a Mommy and a Daddy doll, as well as a little boy and a little girl. Suzy carefully got down and started to play.
The dolls played around the house, ate, and even “walked” the dragon she’d still not let go of.
But she did not put them in bed.
“Suzy, it’s almost time to go, maybe you should put the dolls in bed so that next time you visit, they’ll be ready to wake up.”
“No.”
Her little voice was almost hysterical as she said that.
“What if the children stay in Mommy and Daddy’s room.”
“No,” this time was calmer, more defiant.
“They’re safe here,” I cajoled, trying to make her feel better.
“But I won’t be safe when I go home.”
“What if I came and got rid of the monster?” I asked lightly.
“Would you?” She looked at me hopefully.
“If your mommy and daddy say it’s alright.”
“Will you ask them? Please?” I could see she was desperate for me to go.
“I will.”
---
“Mr. and Mrs. Alvarez,” I said looking between the two adults, each of whom had a hand on their daughter’s shoulder, “I specialize in calming children in their own rooms. If you would allow, I would love to do a home visit for Suzy, and we can – all together of course – rid her room of the monster.”
They’d agreed of course, as Suzy’d begged them to the point of crying and saying she’d not go back into the bedroom until the monster was banished.
Now here we were, standing in her small, pink bedroom. Everything was frills and cuteness, and it was actually a bit overwhelming.
But it didn’t matter – we were here to ‘banish’ the monster.
In reality, I’d be exorcising a demon. Not from the realm – not just yet – but from her bedroom, and from the house.
___
For more by me and others check out r/RedditSerials | Dr. Black's office gave off the impression that his PhD was in medieval weaponry rather than child psychology. His grand desk bent in ways that made it seem like trapped souls were attempting to escape the charred wood; behind it, a crossbow modified with modern mechanisms clung to the wall by two steel hooks. Cuirasses, armets, various daggers and longer blades all found places on the shelves between tombs that looked as old as time. Right down to the lighting—wax candles shaped by hand and burning recklessly close to piles of paper and books—which he claimed was just a way to cut back on electricity use.
The sofa his clients sat in wasn't the usual therapy couch meant to induce comfort and relaxation; it's edges rounded and climbed up half a foot on all sides so it felt like a coffin missing its lid. A young boy lay inside, eyes trained on a painting depicting a torture that actually took place thousands of years ago.
"Tell me, Timothy," Dr. Black paced the room with agonizingly slow steps, exhaling smoke from an archaic pipe in-between each word. "What did the monster look like?"
Timothy swallowed, trying to imagine that thing that had frightened him right out of his room. "Well, I kept seeing a light coming from under my closet door."
"Describe the light. A bright light? A *dark* light?"
"Aren't all lights bright?"
"Not in my experience."
"It was like a candle, a little fire in my closet," Timothy sighed, feeling the chills run back up his spine. "And I told my mom, but she didn't believe me."
"Of course she didn't, foolish woman."
"Excuse me," the boy's mother raised her hand with a nervous smile from just beside the door, resting in a fold out chair that brought a sense of present reality to the room that didn't belong, "aren't you supposed to tell him that it's not real? And should you really be smoking in front of my—"
"Silence. I only wish to hear the boy speak."
With a little squeak the mother recommitted to her statue like position by the door, clutching an oversized purse in her lap.
"Continue, Timothy."
"Well, after a couple of nights, I told myself not to be afraid of it. That I should find out what's in my own closet."
"Very brave, were you armed?"
"I had a pillow."
Dr. Black grumbled and puffed his pipe, rolling his eyes.
"When I opened the door, there was this.... thing... inside."
"What did it look like?"
Timothy was shaking now, the recollection clawing at him from deep within his mind. "It was ugly, with a huge nose, a fuzzy beard, and a candle on its head. It started screaming, like a pig does when its mad, so I ran," he wiped his eyes, trying to hide his shame. "I was taller than the monster. I shouldn't have been afraid of it."
"Never judge your enemy by its size, Timothy. You've been very brave, and its going to be alright," The doctor moved quickly to his desk, procuring a folder that was dangerously close to being set ablaze by a candle. He shuffled through the papers as he stomped over to Timothy's mother, shoving a sheet in front of her face and inquiring, "Is the address shown on line three your correct and current residence?"
His mother, feeling proud to be of assistance, read it five times before answering like she was offering a bit of genius insight, "Yes it is."
"Wonderful, this session is finished." Black began to move like he was suddenly late to an incredibly important appointment, grabbing little vials from drawers, a knife, a hefty leather vest, and finally dismounting the crossbow from the wall.
"Um, should we come back next week? Or does he need to see a specialist?" the mother still hadn't moved from her seat.
"No need, the threat will be eliminated before the sun dips beyond the horizon."
He was already making his way out, and the smoke veiled room gasped for air as he opened the door.
"Are you going to fight the monster?"
Dr. Black turned and smiled at Timothy, sitting upright in the coffin couch. "It's called a kobold, and I'm going to kill it. You are a courageous young man, Tim. Perhaps, someday, you will hunt the monsters in closets too."
Timothy's mother chased after Dr. Black as he sprinted down the hall, coughing up smoke as she ran. Her son just sat there in the lowlight, taking in the spectacle that was his therapist's office, imagining himself crusading against the evil that lurked behind his closet door.
___
**Thanks for reading! Sub to /r/BeagleTales for daily mythical therapy session** | 2020-02-27T08:39:39 | 2020-02-27T08:20:17 | 146 | 100 |
[WP] You’ve traveled a great distance to finally court the princess. Many others have tried and failed. Why? At the end of a week with her, you must duel her to the death. She is the greatest sword fighter in the land, so your only hope is to convince her to call off the fight. | I’ve spent a week with my king’s daughter, a woman so skilled with blades that no man has ever beaten her in single combat.
I’ve fallen for her, like a fool drawn to the rattle of a snake. She’s smart, skilled, beautiful, and funny. She’s kind to the lowest servant, yet fierce in her protection of them.
And I’ve gone and asked her to go on a date with me.
And she said yes.
Now after so long, I face the trial that all her dates have: Her. In single combat, I must defeat her or be thrown as mince meat to the canines.
Dozens of men have tried, women too, and none had been successful. I would be the first, or I would die.
There is no audience, this event is not public. It is simply her and I, as her father sits above in his throne.
She stands ready before me, though my eyes refuse to focus. My pulse is quick, and breath shallow. I’m freaking out. I’m freaking out because I have a plan that may end in my death.
Breathe. Now or never.
With all the unearned confidence I could muster I step towards the center of the room, below her father. She follows, but I arrive first and with a loud clang of metal on stone I drop my sword.
The princess stops, stunned. The king looks down at me with a neutral expression. Not dead yet.
“Princess, you and I both know the rules of this engagement. We fight, we die, and should I be victorious we will wed when I spare you.”
I gulp nervously but continue.
“Well I know when I am bested. I haven’t a clue how to fight, I’m the son of a poet. What hubris must I have to believe myself a better fighter? I am not so arrogant to believe myself better than those who have studied under masters of their craft.”
She looks at me for a long second and I almost think I see her mouth part, but whatever words she’s chosen have died upon her lips.
“So it is forfeit then?” Asks the king gruffly.
Part two. My plan was working.
“I apologize my King, but I believe forfeit or not it is your daughter who should decide what happens next.”
“I am your king, answer my question.”
“You are my King, and that itself deserves my respect. But right now, sir, it’s your daughter who deserves it more. Yes, I forfeit. I leave my life and my future in the hands of a woman I love, and who I hope loves me.”
The room is quiet. Too quiet. I can hear the soft thum thum thumming of my heart in my ears, can feel it pounding in my ribcage. The air tastes sour and I can’t help but look between her eyes, staring straight at me, and the floor.
The soft thud of her rapier onto carpeted stone drawls me back to reality. She walks casually before me and the king, turning to face her father.
“Father, arrange for an early spring wedding.” | "Er, look, can't we talk about this?" I asked as the rapier swished within a hair's breadth of making making me say that a couple of octaves higher. "I mean, I'm really good in bed. I go to sleep really quickly."
"Hah," she yelled, ignoring my feeble attempt at humour. "No man will take me. I vow it with every ounce of my being."
"Crap," I said, ducking, weaving, parrying and then running in the opposite direction as I felt the light gusts of wind from her blade which was seemingly everywhere. Normally, my motto is 'can't win them all,' but in this case just surviving would be nice. Preferably with everything attached.
Frankly, if someone had mentioned to me the bit about the swordplay, I'd probably have given this one a miss. I mean, I have my talents. I'm sort of OK at playing the piano, have a decent party trick using a coin and three cups and am a half-decent conversationalist. But this swordplay thing just wasn't, well, my thing. All I wanted was a bit of an easy life and when I heard a princess was up for grabs and no-one was particularly interested, I thought I'd give it a go. What could I lose? Quite a lot it turned out.
"Look, I admit I'm not one for reading the smallprint," I said. "But couldn't you have at least mentioned this death-by-having-my-family-jewels-cut-off thing at the beginning? It would have been the polite thing to do."
"Don't you tell me what to do," she screamed, frothing at the mouth. A very pretty mouth in normal circumstances but right now... "I'll run you through like a suckling pig."
At that point, her blade nicked my cheek and the pain caused me to howl.
"That's how I like my men," she mocked. "Squealing like the little piggies you are."
"How about a nice game of cards?" I suggested, the sword tracing fast, figure-of-eight patterns in the air. "Or can I cook you something? A nice meal? Just so we can sit down and chat?"
"All. Men. Are. Pigs!" she screamed, thrusting forward.
She expertly flicked the sword out of my hand, cut a 'S' pattern into my chest and instantly, my clean, white shirt filled with blood. My only clean shirt as it happened which was made me die inside a little and probably a prelude to me actually dying a lot. And then the pain hit instantly causing my eyes to fill with tears. I gasped and went down on one knee.
"Please," I begged.
"You'll have to beg better than that," she replied. "The last two at least got down on both knees."
"And what happened to them?" I asked.
She pointed to the notches on the bedpost. I'd wondered why they were there if she hadn't ever, you know.... All was explained. Looks like I'd be notch number ummm... 23. 23? That was a lot of bodies. I gave it my last shot.
"I know a great card trick," I said.
"I hate card tricks," she replied.
"Do you have three cups?" I asked.
"They can put them on your tombstone," she said.
"Then there is nothing more I can say," I said. "At least make it quick. For the sake of my little old mother. Martha."
"Martha?" she asked.
"Martha," I replied.
"My mother's name was Martha," she said. And looked me quizzically in the eye.
"That's a coincidence," I said. "My Martha died years ago. She taught me everything I know."
"Mine too," she replied. "Like how to hate men and run them through with rapiers."
"Oh crap," I said. Not the best last words but oh well. Can't win them all. | 2020-09-20T20:11:35 | 2020-09-20T17:25:35 | 250 | 128 |
[WP] The demon couldn't believe his luck to find such a willing victim to possess. As it possessed them, instead of fighting back like they usually do, this one said "Good luck. You'll need it."
EDIT: Thanks for the awards guys! I've been on this site for 7 years and this is the first time I've received any. | I never expected humans to be so delectable. I smelled her as soon as I clawed my way out of the portal—a lingering trail of sweetness perfuming the air. The trail led me to this sleeping beauty. Her hair fanned behind her head in a fiery halo, and her pale skin glowed beneath the moonlight like a beckoning beacon.
Her soul was overpowering, dizzying me with her aroma. She was so ripe for the taking, and I was addicted to her intoxicating aura—a spice of untapped dreams and endless wants, enhanced with a shadow of resentment. She had so many delicious desires and I couldn’t resist the feast.
I readied for the resistance, but she welcomed me in with eagerness and relief. With each tantalizing taste of her, I wanted more and more until we were whole, a yin yang of two souls. She gave herself to me completely, and I devoured her until her body was mine, and then she laughed, leaving a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.
I slurped up her final sip of nectar, and she whispered, “Good luck, you’ll need it.”
Luck meant nothing to a demon such as I. A demon who escaped the jails of hell and crawled through the cracks of the earth to reach the human realm. A demon who finally found freedom.
My eyes blinked open and I peered through the darkness. I could barely make out the shadowy shapes in the room, even after my eyes adjusted. Human senses were so muted, but I would adapt. I tried to move my legs, but they refused to budge. Nor could I wiggle even the tiniest of my toes. My limbs were heavy and lifeless—entirely immobile.
A scream ripped through me but it didn’t make it past my throat. Only my eyes could move, could sense, could see.
There was no sound when I realized I’d escaped one hell only to be trapped in another.
\*\*\*\*\*
Thanks for reading! Feel free to read more at r/rulerofstorybears | As a demon I'd never seen a woman accept possession.
I would devour her soul after years of hungering for one. She would be my sixth. And it came so easy until I stabbed my claws in her neck to absorb her spirit she boomed, "Good luck. You're going to need it."
Then I felt my whole body get sucked into my victim.
Or so, I thought she was my victim.
This never happened before. Usually I drained out the soul through my claws and it fills my body with a sense of euphoria that is unmatched, and I feel wonderful for years. *Perfectly satisfied.*
Now, I was plummeting through an abyss of black space. A light at the top became smaller the further I fell down.
I finally landed on a patch of (what felt like, but I wasn't too sure because I couldn't see) grass. The smell of burned hair lingered around me.
*"The food chain,"* a deep voice bellowed. *"Animals eat bugs, humans eat animals, demons eat humans, but what eats a demon?"*
I wasn't sure if I should respond, but I didn't know the answer.
*"Voids. Voids eat demons. And you've met your Maker."*
My eyes widened.
*"Yes. Voids travel through space devouring demons where we can find them. We're rare to find, and it takes a while for us to find a feast, but thank you for making it so easy."*
I never heard of a Void, but I felt something I hadn't felt as a young demon. *Fear.*
*"You've eaten five souls. I can taste it. I've set them free now in this landscape. I've told them to get revenge on you. You know, to help me digest you,"* there was no humor or charm in the Void's voice, which made my skin crawl.
The area around me filled with light. I was standing in a black and white field. Like being inside an old landscape photograph. In front of me was the soul of a man I devoured 120 years ago. Tears streamed down his face. He was made of a soft silver light.
"Look, uh, uh, I'm really sorry," I said, backing away. "I never knew what it was like to be eaten! This is horrible! Please, accept my apology! Perhaps we can all get out of here together if we recruit the others!"
The soul hung his head and it looked like he took a deep sigh, but I heard nothing. He pointed to another direction and I looked, only to find nothing. When I turned back around, the soul had a smile curved up ear-to-ear, showcasing a pair of deep fangs that could tear my neck to shreds. It leapt in my direction and I sprinted away through the field, finding an abandoned house sitting alone in the black and white world.
I made a [part 2!](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/khpvdx/wp_the_demon_couldnt_believe_his_luck_to_find/)
r/randallcooper | 2020-12-21T12:20:20 | 2020-12-21T11:12:04 | 752 | 410 |
[WP] The castle is stormed and ruffians run about through the halls. The young prince hides in the kitchen, but is found. Now all that stands between him and his would be assassins is the castle cook. She twirls a steak knife in her hand and squares off against the invaders. | The doors to the kitchen were broken into as the screams from the outside raged on. The intruders had made their way inside the castle, and soon found just who they were looking for. The prince cowered in the corner as the cook looked unamused by the ruffians' attempts at intimidation.
"There you are, you're coming with us!" The leader spoke as he stared at the two. The cook, known to the royalty as Yvonne, stood tall and her shoulders squared as a fire long forgotten raged in her eyes. "You'll kill me first." She said, her tone even and unwavering, making the ruffians laugh. "You're an old woman, with nothing more than a weak knife, you couldn't stop me if you tried!"
"I don't plan on just trying." She said as she launched the steak knife into the nearest one's eye, piercing directly through it and causing him to scream. The young prince Daniel watched in horror as his cook, and long time friend, began to slaughter the ruffians before his very eyes. The kind and gentle woman he knew was replaced with someone with the rage of a hundred warriors.
Knives, wooden spoons, cast iron pots and pans were were thrown with such accuracy and force, it was almost as if Yvonne had done this before, many times. Blood splatters decorated the walls and floor, some even getting on Daniel's face. Daniel was terrified, but oddly calm as his cook took care of the last man, bashing his face in with one of the previous pans.
Chest heaving and white apron stained, Yvonne dropped the bloodied pan and wiped her face. She stood tall as she turned to face the prince. "You're safe now." She said as she helped him to his feet.
Yvonne led him out of the kitchen and through the castle, which was becoming engulfed in flames. "Get whatever you need out of your room, and then hurry to the stables. This place won't last long." She said before hurrying down a long corridor.
The prince did just that, rushing to his room and packing his clothes and valuables without a second thought. Though, as he was leaving, the roof collapsed in on him, cutting his face as he was suddenly pinned under a beam. He winced in pain as he tried to crawl out from under, but found it difficult. He was too weak, and far too scared to call out for help.
Thankfully, Yvonne found him and pulled him out before more stuff could crash down upon him. "Come now boy, we need to leave." She said, heading back, passed the flaming throne room making Daniel stop. The bodies of his parents lay at the foot of the throne, almost holding one another.
Yvonne looked at the bodies for a moment. "There was nothing you could have done, I'm sorry." She said before grabbing his hand and rushing with him out the door to the stables. She loaded up their bags and began to saddle the horses.
"Who were those men?! Why were they and why did they want me?!" Daniel finally spoke since the attack. Yvonne paused a moment. "They weren't here for you. They were here for me. I'll explain when we get someplace safer." She said as finished saddling the two horses.
Yvonne turned to face the young man. "Are you able to ride? I know your eye is cut but I need to know in case I need to have you ride with me." She said, Daniel nodding and getting on his horse. "I'll be fine."
Yvonne got on hers, looking over at Daniel, seeing him staring at the burning castle, what was once his home being slowly destroyed. "Daniel, I need you to stay close to me as we leave." She said, making her horse gallop to the exit.
"And whatever you do, don't look back." | Though her effort was valiant, she was immediately overrun by the mob and knocked unconscious. The peasants turn the kitchen over and eventually find the prince hiding in a potato closet. The stench of urine overpowers the starchy smell of potatoes. He screamed and struggled with all his might, but was quickly bound and gagged. The strong arms of the peasants lifted the prince's fat, privelaged form and carried him out of the castle.
Later that day, the prince scowled and the throng of peasants gathered around the platform he has been bound to. "You worthless cretins! You are all scum, and you shall pay for this transgression with your lives!" Spittle flew from his lips as the hate and disdain for their very existence flowed like hot bile. "When my FATHER hears of this he will string you all up by your intestines and feed your children to the DOGS!!!" His words rang hollow as they echoed around the courtyard. The crowd before him was silent. No reaction to his words. Not a murmur. For the first time in his life, the prince felt doubt.
A large man stepped up onto the platform. Everyone in the village knew this man as Big John. He worked the farm out west that provided grain to the village and the castle. They knew him as an honest man. Generous and kind to everyone. He was one of the few people I'm the village to receive and education, and one of the only ones who knew how to read and write. The prince saw only another nameless piece of filth that deserved to be drawn and quartered.
Big John stood to the side of the bound prince and faced the silent crowd. He glanced at the prince with pity in his eyes. That look infuriated the prince. How dare this trash pity him.
"Prince George." He began solemnly. "This day has been years in the making. The crimes committed by your family against these good people have been numerous, and cruel." The icy hand of fear gripped the princes heart. Big John continued. "Your father, the lord of these lands, was once a good man. Over the years, he was corrupted by greed, and a lack of empathy. His troubled heart has been put to rest, for the good of these people." The princes mind reeled. Dead? My father is dead? Oh gods, who will protect me? "Though you have made clear how you feel about your subjects, you have committed no crimes against us, and we do not wish any further violence." Big John paused to let the words sink in. "We are giving you a choice. Become the ruler your father once was, and resist the urge to abuse your power, and we shall let you return to your castle with the knowledge we shall abide no cruelty or abuse. Refuse, and you will be exiled. Should you ever return, you will be killed on sight."
The prince was silent for a long time, as was the crowd. Many faces were doubtful, clearly uneasy with the prospect of letting the prince return to rule. Some others seemed sympathetic, but not nearly as many. Several children sat stop their parents shoulders. Many of them were missing eyes or ears. As the prince studied them, he realized many of these children looked nothing like the adults holding them. The one thing all the people had in common was a gaunt, hungry look. The prince realized he was the sole individual that was overweight. For the first time, the prince was able to see these people as more than peasants. He felt the contempt and hatred for them slowly begin to ebb. His father had been a cruel man. He had known that well as a child. The prince supposed much of that poison had infected his own heart. He didn't want to be poisoned any longer.
Quietly, with a newfound dignity that was undermined by the spittle drying on his chins, the prince said. "On behalf of my family, I apologise for the hardship that has been forced upon you. If I am returned to the castle, I swear to you I will be a better lord than my father before me. Should I fail in this endeavor, may I share in his fate."
Big John nodded approvingly. "That's what I was hoping to hear. The name's John." He said as he began to unbind the prince. "If you ever need anything, just let me know." The prince nodded, not fully trusting himself to speak. He new there was going to be a learning curve to all his new responsibilities. Big John helped him stand. "Now let's get you back to the castle. You've got some wrongs that need righting." Big John winked. The prince continued nodding, still dazed from what had just transpired. Big John led the prince off the platform and they made their way up the road to the castle.
There was no fanfare, no cheering. The crowd, with many unhappy faces, quietly dispersed and went about their business. Justice had been done. Only time would tell if it would stay. | 2021-01-08T08:57:38 | 2021-01-08T08:43:11 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] After death, you find out that you can choose how and when to be reincarnated. Initially eager to be a futuristic human, you soon realize that every (more experienced) soul ahead of you in line is choosing to be a "worm" in the year 121 million BCE. | "Well that was a disaster" Romain thinks to himself as he takes a place at the back of the "reincarnation line". "Pick the 21st century Terra they said, it will be fun they said. Well it was not. Especially not being a god damn human. What did I even think of? I was obviously way too late to the party and I still picked it!?"
Romain's eyes scouer the wast endless void stretching out to every side. There must be atleast a trillion souls waiting for a second, third or hundredth existance. He's looking for something to occupy his time with, but just as the first, second, and fiifth time, there's nothing here except for boring souls. They said that there were once endless rivers running through the void brining life to an oettherwise utterly tiresome space.
Time moves differently here. It isnt really a linear flow like in the plane of living. Instead, time is condensed and channeled through one's existance. Or atleast that what they say.
As Romain slowly starts to enclose himself in his own isolation the echoes from the front reach him. The soul in front turns and the empty sound of their voice revers inside of your existance. "you hear that!? The elders are picking Terra... A WORM ON TERRA!". A worm... On Terra? Who would put themself through that!? There's no way, that Romain the great will be a worm... On Terra.
But as time goes on, the rumours grow stronger. More and more people are picking Terra worms and soon Romain starts to consider it. After all, why would everyone else be picking it. There must be something there, they must know something that he doesn't.
So as he stepps up to the counter he proudly writes down in the book of life "Romain: Worm, Terra, earliest possible time". The clerk behind the desk chuckles slightly, and as he flips throigh the pages to cement Romain's wish he can see sthe billions of souls picking worm. He thinks to himself "there's no way this can go tits up"
And as he's transported to Terra into this new being. As the soul is forced into a new twisted existance of life he realizes.... There's nothing to this existance. They lied. | Wrong Lever
As I watched the others transcend to that primordial hell, I began to reconsider. What did they know that I didn't? As I took each small, eternal step towards the dock, I decided -jist this once - I would follow the crowd; after all, how long could a worms life be? When my time came I entered the transpiritual reactor and pulled the lever, engulfed in the fires of heaven.
The ether encompassed me, white (theres no word for its actual brilliance) with a series of varying stars changing locations as a countdown. Decompression from the corporeal. After an eternal instant I was transposed back to the waiting room. From everywhere a soothing voice announced "welcome to Receiving dock 5/j(8b¡^4)▪︎8, when ready please proceed to the rotunda"
I sat there shuddering, shivering, holding myself. I was astounded no human had found a trace of it in the fossil record. The sheer madness of those monstrosities. The things that threatened them. Those eyes. Those endless mouths!
No one had told me beforehand that we were going into battle.
No one told me how truly depraved Enkidu (no... Sakloss. No.... Jeh.... the thought evaporated) could truly be. The humans had such limited comprehension, such a narrow understanding of their potential unrealization. Of who their true allies were.
"Projection". Thats the word one of the humans had used. The bad ones rely on projection.
The memories played through: the aggregate titans. The tactical strategies. The battles. Then then cold, the COLD! Of space itself swallowing the sun. Then the memory of warmth, of light... where was I? A petri dish! Thats right... pulled from a core sample. I made headlines, I think. Before some buffoon melted me in acid. Oh those poor fools, I hope they didn't dig too far.
I was still sorting through the thoughts and timelines, reconciling millions of years, when I felt a presence by my side. I looked at them, and they at me. They could see from the look in my Eye that something was terribly wrong.
"Oh," they sighed "you... you went THERE?" They embraced me and it was warm, engulfing, and my fear and terror, those remnants of biology, drifted away. Looking at me again they said "im sorry child. We try to ensure that level 4 and above only go there, for reasons you no doubt now understand . Sometimes though, a brave soul falls through the cracks."
They took my hand and led me back to a reactor. "What you need is a long rest. No activity, no excitement. Hrm..." they cycled through options, before showing me one they thought was best "Here! Perfect. Standard stellar cycle with 4 BARREN worlds (you've seen your share of carnage after all!)," They giggled darkly "with a termination by a passing Stage 6 singularity. Yes, just the rest you need. And try to remember to accrete plenty of H2O! Now, make your preparations and we will send you off."
I did as told, smiling and thanking them. They caressed me gently, "my pleasure. Sweet Dreams, love". They pulled the lever, and the fires of heaven took me. | 2021-02-06T01:51:28 | 2021-02-06T01:45:16 | 177 | 80 |
[WP] They tried to burn her, drown her, decapitate her, hang her... but the witch just won't die. You are guarding her cell while the clerics think of other means of execution. The witch laughs. "Have you heard of the 3 fold rule? A witches' power to return 3 times the pain inflicted upon them?" | "Three fold rule. Three fold rule. Three fold rule. Three fold rule. Three fold rule. Three fold rule." The witch sang from her cell. Her chanting echoed in the halls of the dark and damp prison.
You shift your weight on your feet and rap your knuckles against the stone wall a few times "You should be quiet."
"Oh? You speak to me?" The witch asked.
"Yes, I'm asking you to please be quiet."
"So polite, this one." Her voice, like a jagged shadow, added an eerie life to the dark flame-lit halls.
Clenching your teeth, you return to attention.
The fifteenth attempt on her life had taken place at dusk, this time with a smelting furnace and charcoal. Her clothes burned away, her hair frizzed and popped, her eyebrows singed. But she did not burn. The clerics would not return until dawn.
"Three fold rule. Three fold rule. Three fold rule." Her chant began again.
You let out a sigh.
"Oh, am I bothering you?" Her voice came from right behind you.
You fall forward, taking several steps to regain your balance, and swivel deftly on your feet - pike at the ready for an assault. But the witch remained behind the bars, her face pressed into them just behind and beside where you had stood watch along the adjoining wall.
"It is disconcerting, that is all." You said, lowering your pike.
"Indeed it should be." She said, gently stroking the bars of her cell with one finger.
"I'm well aware." You said, eyeing her from your safe distance.
"Oh, you have heard of the three fold rule?" She asks now, gripping the bars in her hands.
"I... I'm aware of it." You said, glancing around the dimly lit halls of the prison for eavesdroppers.
"And how is that?"
"My mother... she" you began, taking a step forward and lowering your voice, "She was burned."
"Oooooooohhhh hooo hoooo" The witch's voice howls in the prison's halls as she retreats into the shadows.
You hear her scuff around, and knock into her water bowl. Scratching and shuffling fills the quiet space for a few moments.
"You understand, I've done you no harm." You say, taking another step forward.
"Yes, yes, you've been quite careful, young man."
You stared into the darkness of her cell for a long moment. After what felt like an eternity, you hear her shuffle up to the bars once more.
"You should leave."
"Huh?" You turn to face her, her face now fully revealed in the light. It was scarred and broken, her nose twisted from repeated abuse.
"Leave, before dawn."
You felt your skin crawl.
"Three fold rule?" You asked.
"I'm going to burn this village to the ground." She rasped.
You feel yourself taking a step backwards, instinctively repulsed by this new hatred she exuded.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"We are kin, kid, whether you realize it or not. I would be remiss to hurt you."
"What?"
"GO! RUN! RUN! GO! THREE FOLD RULE! THREE FOLD RULE! THREE FOLD RULE!" She began to scream.
You ran.
The village asleep, you had no problem abandoning your post and escaping its walls.
The distant screams began as you crested the hill to the north of the village, the sun had just broken over the eastern mountains.
You stop and turn, falling to the ground in shock. A column of fire, as tall as a mountain, tore into the sky above the village. It slowly expanded outwards, engulfing the village and the screams within. A wave of heat hit you, even miles away.
You scrambled to your feet and began to run, down the other side of the hill and to freedom.
-----
**Three years later**
You ordered another round from the barkeep, and slide your empty to join its friends.
"You sure you can walk out of here?" The barkeep asked, sliding a new ale in front of you.
You looked at the warm beer for a moment. "I'm fine." You said.
The barkeep shrugged and returned to his tasks.
"I'm sure you can walk out of here just fine." A voice behind you said, a familiar voice.
You turn to face them, a beautiful young woman. Her long hair escapes her cloaked head, but beneath the cloak's hood you can see a smile.
"Who're you..." you began to ask.
"Rule of three" The young lady said.
You jumped to attention.
"It took awhile to find you." She extends a hand.
You take her hand, and stand from the stool.
"Are you ready to find out what I meant?" She asked.
"What you meant?"
"Our kinship. Are you ready to see how deep this fox den goes?" | "Not at all," Taylor said sincerely. "Is that why you are so powerful now?"
"Um. Yes?" the witch replied, a little bewildered. When Delores cackled her previous line, she expected it to fall on deaf walls. Or, at the most, elicit a quick "shut up" from the guard at her door, or from one of the clerics fervently discussing strategies to kill the witch just around the corner, unseen but unquiet.
"That is very cool!" Taylor nodded. Very enthusiastically. Delores' own head involuntarily tagged along, though with much smaller movements compared to the guard's vigorous nods.
"Oh. That is kind of you," Delores coughed a little, remembering that she was supposed to be an evil witch. "I shall ensure that you have a quick, painless death, when I break out of your pathetic little prison!"
"But," Taylor rubbed his chin, one of the few exposed parts of his face under an oversized helmet, flickering in the candlelight. "Shouldn't you torture me a lot, if you want to be nice?"
Delores paused. She stared at him.
"What?"
"The three-fold rule, right? If you give me a quick painless death, like lopping off my head"--Taylor flicked at the side of his head, fingernail clanging metal, and made three plopping sounds that grew gradually softer--"it would roll over there, and that was it. Dead. But maybe, if you torture me a lot..."
"That only applies to witches," Delores said, before she could catch herself. "I don't think you have any latent powers. Not from what I can see, at least."
"Oh," Taylor said. He sniffed. "Oh. I thought like maybe, if I experienced a lot of pain, I might be able to discover some magic in me. Or something."
"You want pain? Delores asked, incredulous. "Do you even know what you are wishing for? And how are you not afraid of me? Do you not know the horrors I can wring out of the dark 'verse?"
"It couldn't suck more than now, right?" Taylor said brightly. Yet, there was a twinge of something underneath. Delores felt it. "Maybe I don't know what I'm wishing for. I mean, I do, but, it just doesn't seem very feasible, does it? And why would I be afraid of you? You are basically crackling with power. The clerics took one look at you and turned whiter than their cloaks. You could leave anytime you want, right?"
"I suppose," Delores muttered.
"But yet, here you are," Taylor said. "I don't know. I just don't think you are bad or anything, you know?"
"Um," Delores blinked, unsure of what to say. "I killed a lot of people in the village."
"I saw some of their names," Taylor whispered. "A lot of bad eggs."
"Oh," Delores stared at her hands, now. She didn't really want to look this guard in the eyes any more. "How did you know?"
"I'm not a very smart or capable person, ma'am," Taylor said. "I've been stuck here guarding an empty cell for longer than I'd like. I think they put you here because they thought that if you escaped and I died, it wouldn't really matter."
"Ouch," the witch winced. "I'm sure they don't think of you that way. Or any other person."
"Yeah," the guard said. "That's why they tried to burn, drown, decapitate, and hang you."
"I'm not really a person."
"I feel that way, too," Taylor said. He patted the side of his scabbard, unsheathing a wooden sword. "They didn't even give me a metal one."
"That's really terrible," Delores said, glancing at Taylor periodically.
"So," Taylor said. "What say you? Break out of the prison, then? Inflict some pain on me, make it more realistic. Maybe I can become a witch too."
"I can't," Delores said softly, her head down.
"What?"
"The principle of pain? It works the other way round, too," Delores smiled, shaking her head. "You've... I've enjoyed talking to you. It was nice."
"What?" Taylor said, crashing against the bars of the cell. "Does that mean I hurt you? Oh no. I'm so sorry."
"Ah, don't worry," the witch said. "I'm not powerful enough to break out of this prison right now."
Delores had heard the conversation dying down. The footsteps had shuffled off into different directions, but one was coming towards her. She chuckled when she saw an old man coming into view, because Taylor was right. The cleric was whiter than his sheets.
As Taylor hastily stepped aside, the cleric clenched his fingers tightly, before cracking them apart. A palpable atmospheric shift was felt in the room, before the cleric also took out a ring of keys and opened the cell's physical lock.
Without a word, Delores stood up and walked towards the exit. She turned towards Taylor, who had his back against the wall, and mouthed "I'm sorry."
"Don't worry, love," Delores whispered, enhancing her words to Taylor with a little magical suggestion. "You took some pain away from me, and it was nice."
"Woah," Taylor murmured.
"But from what I know of these clerics, they will try and kill me once again," Delores smiled. "And they won't succeed. And then, I'll take down this prison for the both of us."
Taylor nodded with renewed vigour. The cleric turned back, tugging on Delores' chains.
"Then," Delores winked. "We'll see about your comforting me once more."
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-03-08T12:55:06 | 2021-03-08T11:25:45 | 55 | 24 |
[WP] Dragons require large amounts of metals for their diet, their hoards full of gold because while gold is collected with iron and steel it cannot be digested, their reputation for killing knights due to the amount of steel on their armour and weapons | The party of adventurers entered the cavernous treasure room of the dragon’s lair and gaped at the mountains of glittering gold of the dragon’s hoard. The dragon himself was in the human form of a large, rugged warrior in glowing crimson plate mail, glaring down at the intruders with red, vertical slit eyes.
“Why have you come?” The dragon boomed, “Do you wish to get eaten?”
The adventurers kneeled. The warrior at the front addressed the dragon.
“O dragon of the mountain, we mean no harm upon you, we only wish that you would stop eating our kingdom’s knights,” The man said.
“Surely you’ve come with a proposition?” The dragon said, “Or did you plan to offer yourself as food to compensate for wasting my time?”
The adventurer swallowed, “O dragon, our offer is gold. We have…”
“*Don’t be ridiculous!”* The dragon roared, “Look around you? Do you think I need gold? It’s less than worthless to me.”
The adventurer bowed his head even lower. “N… no great dragon, you have unimaginable wealth so naturally you don’t need our gold. What, may I ask, would please you instead of gold?”
The dragon subsided slightly and looked thoughtful, “I suppose… whatever it is that the knights wear.”
“You want… carriages full of armor?”
The dragon nodded, “Yes, that would… actually be quite nice.” The dragon looked at the trembling adventurer in front of him and his gaze softened slightly. “Maybe I had the wrong idea about you, adventurer. You may be a bit slow, but I think we can come to an agreement.”
The adventurer visibly relaxed, as well as the rest of his party. “So, is it agreed upon then? We will bring you carriages of armor in exchange for the lives of our knights?”
The dragon scowled slightly, “Actually I would appreciate one more favor.”
“What would that be, mighty dragon?”
“Can you humans make use of all this,” The dragon gestured at his hoard, “I know it’s a fairly useless metal but…”
“Yes! We can make use of that!”
The dragon looked relieved, “Please bring some empty carriages then to get rid of all of this for me in exchange for more armor.”
“Why, may I ask, do you wish to get rid of your gold, o wise dragon?”
The dragon looked at the adventurer, “Isn’t it obvious? To me, gold is indigestible.”
The adventurer still looked confused.
The dragon sighed, “In other words, this gold is my poop.”
___
If you enjoyed, check out r/WanderWilder for more stories. Thanks for reading! | &#x200B;
I should begin this tale with an introduction to Genette. You've probably never heard of it, or would ever want to go there. It's here in the United States, but far to the southwest. I guess about where Arizona would be—if this were still the world as we knew it before the Event. It's mainly one big city, with a few outlying farms, ranches, and towns.
Many had taken to reconstruction by trying to replicate the way things were, I even heard of a settlement in Texas with a Mcdonald's set up, kind of pointless with no cars but people grew hearing stories of how great the old world was and pine for something they never were there to see, let alone understand.
Genette was not like this. The town looked like something from medieval fantasy, with perhaps a little old west flair, some would say the other way around. The Claimers taking most of the metal led to some creative building decisions as they did everywhere. The High Ditch Saloon was a perfect example of the craftmanship of this lost age, fine wood joinery top to bottom.
Now that I've set the scene, let me introduce you to that man at the bar, the one in a full set of steel plate armor. Doesn't quite fit, does he? That's Randall Hooke, and he fancies himself a Baiter, though there hadn't been a sighting of a Claimer in these parts for some forty years, until today that is.
"Another round, Boss," Randall said, suffering through the shot of whiskey. All baiters drank whiskey, he knew. He'd get used to it eventually.
"My wallet won't allow you to extend your tab further, I'm afraid, and besides, look like I'd be doing you a favor." The barkeep said with a good-natured but stern face.
"You know I'm good for it, Preach!" He said, getting up with an elaborate motion, clanking all the way. "A baiter doesn't make steady stack. It comes in big drops."
"If it comes at all, Randall. Take a leave on now. I might be feeling more charitable tomorrow."
"Yeah, yeah. Too bad Minn didn't stop by." He said, downing a pitcher of water in one pass. It got hot out there.
"Last I heard, she wasn't planning on being anywhere you were."
Randall shook his head as he heaved towards the swinging doors, another feat to pass in his full kit. Barry the stacker in his fine striped hat held his gut directly in the way.
"I ain't got it this week, Barry. I know, I'm sorry. wait, is that Dandy Girl behind you?"
"It ain't nothing like that, Mr. Hooke. It's a Claimer! Spotted just five miles south and heading this way. I know you sold your horse last winter but Farmer May was nice enough to give it back, free of charge."
Randall's head spun, this was his chance. This was what he needed. He tried to hide the excitement on his face. "Five miles south. How long ago?"
"Probably not ten minutes, Dale's boy on that thunderfoot horse ripped up here as soon as he saw it."
"Good," Randall said, downing his faceguard, realized how constricted his vision was and raising it up again. "I'll head south, then once I spot it, I'll draw it easy to the east gorge."
"Godspeed, son. We're counting on you."
Part 2 on the way.
&#x200B;
\---
For more of my writing, see /r/surinical | 2021-03-22T08:37:54 | 2021-03-22T07:06:45 | 138 | 56 |
[WP] You're rather annoyed that your history teacher gave you a D on your essay about Mesopotamia. Not just because you're sure she doesn't like you, but also because - as an ancient being trying to adapt to modern society - YOU WERE THERE. | “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I told my teacher calmly, uncaring of the disruption I was causing in the classroom. “Was my essay badly written? Was there a problem with my citations? What exactly did I do wrong enough to warrant a D?”
Normally, I strove for politeness. But it was simply unacceptable for any educator to mark down work for having a different opinion - and, having triple checked every source I’d put down and backed up every assumption written, I knew it wasn’t an issue with the quality of the paper.
I had taken such pains to make sure I didn’t use any of my own knowledge. It was difficult to write purely as a student of the time and not as someone who had been born and raised in Mesopotamia - and I would be dammed if this ignorant and opinionated dog would cast such aspersions upon my work.
The teacher glared daggers at me. “You dismissed out of hand the translation of the Historian Lawrence and called Ishtar-Sin a chicken!”
I flipped neatly to the appendix and held up a photograph of a tablet. “As you can see here, we have the poem of Ishtar-Sin. The circled cuneiform is what Historian Lawrence translated as “falcon”. However, if you refer to my next page...” I quickly flipped the page over “you can see that this is a recipe, rescued from the museum of Iraq and currently on display in the Giza Museum until it can be returned. Here you can see that the same cuneiform is used. Although chicken was not as ubiquitous as it is in modern meals, I assure you it was far more common than eating falcons.
“Furthermore, from Lawrence‘s own translation you can see that he wrote of ‘the falcon’s strut’ - when has one ever spoken of a falcon strutting? A falcon soars, it circles, it glides and it dives. Its domain is the sky. It is the rooster who boastfully struts upon the ground.
“Additionally, the poem references the battle of Nineveh - which was a crushing defeat for Ishtar-sin (I have included a reference here to the work of Abdelrahman Kanoo, a historian operating in Syria) and, with all these factors considered, I do not believe I am wrong to say that this poem, rather than lauding Ishtar-sin, was a piece that was written to mercilessly mock a man who was pampered from birth and fancied himself a general but ran from his first battle and showed no repentance for his incompetence.”
I wondered, for a moment, if the teacher was about to burst a blood vessel.
“How dare you belittle the work of acknowledged historians?” came the frothing reply. “How unbelievably arrogant to think you know better!”
I smiled at that. “History is a pack of lies about events that never happened told by people who weren’t there.” I quoted. “It’s literally the opening page of the textbook you assigned. You told us to question our sources. Their motivations. Their qualifications. Having done so - why am I being punished for following your instructions?”
The ignorant dog remained silent at that.
I couldn’t help but be satisfied.
After all, it reminded me greatly of the look on Ishtar-Sin’s face when he heard the poem I, the woman he had sworn to marry, wrote about him... | Tudya was pissed.
Positively pissed.
It took effort to be so pissed early in the morning. But Tudya was a workaholic, and he worked as hard on his essays as he did on honing his emotions. Right now, his anger had an edge to slice the devil in half.
When Tudya got his essay back and saw the D on it, he stood up and looked at his teacher, miss Naeger, with a barely concealed rage.
"I am Tudya, king of Assyria, I ruled the jewel between two rivers for a century. It is I, who modernized trading by opening a trading post on the Levant with Ibrium. It is I, who discovered the secret of immortality, deep in the university, and kept it hidden. I died, replaced by Adamu and thirteen other leaders, all of which looked like me. It is I, as Ushpia, who dedicated the temples to Ashur. It is I, as Ilu-Shuma, who raided the southern city states and established dominance over Mesopotamia.
"Alas, this proved to be the worm in the fruit. By my raids, I encouraged Sumuabum the dog to found Babylonia, pest of the East. I knew it would cause problems, but the city started as weak and pitiful, I had better to do with immediate neighboring threats like Isin and Larsa.
"And came Hammurabi. He did not raid. He conquered. He saw beyond the size of a city-state, and envisioned a state, grander and greater than any political power we could have imagined. He turned Babylon into the hulking monstrosity I still fear in my nightmares. Hammurabi created an empire, he also created laws.
"I stopped his advance and fought the idiot king toe to toe. Alas, betrayal came from inside. The next king wasn't me, but Shamshi-Adad, who knew my secret and was disappointed with how little I managed. If only he knew. He wanted to imitate Hammurabi and conquered, until his idol came for him. Assyria became a vassal to Babylon.
"I left the city, no more a king, no more a citizen, but a vagrant, a philosopher. I, with my fifteen names, fell into the oblivion of history, a footnore overshadowed by a man dead for millennia.
"I witnessed Amorites and Babylonians being ousted from their homelands. I followed the journey of the Hittites from minor Asia to Mesopotamia. I saw the birth of the second Babylonian empire and fell in love with the great Ashurbarnipal who transferred the seat of power back to Babylonia, centuries after Hammurabi had done so himself. Ashurbarnipal. Remember his name, he created the mightiest empire of them all, he created the first organized library.
"Do you even know what it means? He organized knowledge. He taught the world how to share it; make it available. He planted the seed long ago so you could be a teacher today. If it wasn't for him, the world wars would have been fought by two neighboring cities with arrows and swords. He *made* you, he made your existence possible. I was his friend, his lover, I have seen him rise and mourned his fall. And you dare to tell me I *invented* a story to have a good grade?"
The pictures danced before Tudya, the towers of Ibrium where the rulers sat, overlooking and endless vista of greenery. Babylon, bustling city of scholars, with the overcrowded streets and the farms beyond the city gates. He remembered how he walked along the Euphrates, sinking his toes in the cool river on a hot evening and observing sun going down, with no other light but the moon and stars coming to announce the night.
So many stories to tell...
"Mister Tudya. Mister Tudya!"
Tudya was still standing in front of miss Naeger, copy in hand. He had yet to open his mouth and talk.
"Do you have anything to say?"
"No, miss Naeger."
"You should do better next time and not invent half of history."
"Yes, miss Naeger."
He sat back down, as the teacher kept handing the essays to other pupils.
Tudya cursed the day he had decided that the least a king like him could do was to earn a modern high school diploma. | 2021-07-18T02:33:51 | 2021-07-18T01:10:12 | 1,930 | 144 |
[WP] Two people in a bar are having a conversation. The topic of their "body counts" comes up. One's an assassin, the other is an escort. Each thinks the other has the same profession as them, and is horrified by what they are told. | "Zero."
"Seriously?! That's a huge relief. I was worried you were going to have some huge number and I was going to look like an idiot. Mine's zero too."
"Oh yeah, I just can't seem to pull the trigger. I get all dressed and ready, and then stage fright every time I see who I'm supposed to take upstairs."
"Or "downstairs", am I right? But don't feel bad. I'm the exact same way. Once I have them in my sights, I get the cold sweats and I just lock up. That's it."
"It's scary, isn't it? Maybe we could exchange numbers and practice with each other sometime."
"You mean like role-playing?"
"Yeah, I guess you could think of it that way. It would be like rehearsing lines for a play."
"I think that's a great idea! Of course we'd use protection, right?"
"Oh, definitely. We don't even have to go that far, but definitely don't want any life-changing oopsies or accidents, right?"
"I'm so glad that we bumped into each other and got to talking. By the way, who are you here for?"
"Oh, I'm here for that one over at the bar."
"What?! No! That's who I'm here for!"
"Get out! That's wild! They hired two of us?!"
"Ok, this might be crazy, but, do you want to do this one together?"
"I was just thinking that too! I have to admit, doing it with someone else for their first time too, would make me feel less nervous."
"How do you want to do it?"
"I was thinking we invite them up to my room and go from there. Or, we could use your room if that would make you more comfortable. I don't want you to feel awkward"
"No, no. Yours is perfect. Thanks for the offer though. Well, I guess it's now or never."
"Yeah, time to rip the band-aid off." | "You ever feel bad about your work?"
"Well there was this one guy, one of my first jobs. Surprisingly young, athlete, jock-type. Must have just turned 18. You could tell he was real nervous, had no idea what he was getting into. He was still just a kid, but something was off. Had that youthful look about him, born yesterday. It was all over his face, except the eyes. They were dead, he never blinked. He was excited for something, scared for something. He learned too much and it opened a box he'd never been ready for."
"Yeah, I don't understand how we cross paths with these people sometimes. Most people I get why they're there, but I've had that too. They're out of context. They're still kids."
"Exactly. I couldn't have been much older than him at the time, but somehow I had learned so much more than he ever would."
"Too bad for him I guess. What happened?"
"We had been talking. I was calming him down, trying to make him comfortable. But, I slipped up. For just a second, I let see me. He saw the scars, the harsh truths, the world and the trauma trapped in myself. His doe eyes opened and I really saw the demons inside him and he saw me. We didn't know how we got there, but we knew our roles. I asked him how he wanted it. He wanted to be choked. Not usually my thing, but it's not really up to us, now is it?"
"Ha, nope. Whatever the mood calls for, I guess."
"He wasn't ready. He started crying. I didn't really know why he was there, but in that moment, he sure did. He didn't want me to stop. Begged for his mommy, but begged me to do it. 'Mommy nooo', 'I'm not a bad boy Mommy' Looked me straight in the eyes the whole time. I couldn't break eye contact. It was the first time I really saw someone enjoy me hurting them. I held him there. Me on top, never breaking eye contact. Well, until his eyes rolled back in his head. He was done. I got off of him and I got out of there as fast as I could.
It was a bizarre experience"
"Rough but part of the job, I guess. At least you got paid though."
"I guess....I dunno. I'd probably give the money back to get that experience out of my head. I never really look any of my other clients in the eyes any more after that."
"I never do that either. It's just too hard. You can't get attached in the slightest."
"Yeah, pretty much. Get in, get out. On to the next job."
"Sucks to have to be this heartless about it. It's so hard for me to leave work at work." | 2022-04-26T07:34:53 | 2022-04-26T06:22:16 | 83 | 11 |
[WP] Two people in a bar are having a conversation. The topic of their "body counts" comes up. One's an assassin, the other is an escort. Each thinks the other has the same profession as them, and is horrified by what they are told. | "oh by now, I don't know there are so many"
"It's okay, you can tell me. I won't judge."
" Well probably several hundred"
"Several hundred? I can't believe it."
"Well it's not like I want too do more, and I've only been working the city for 3 years." Ahem. "Besides, with your experience I'm sure you've got a higher total than me."
"Actually, I've only got the one."
"One? How could you even sit here and talk to me about this. You can't understand what it's like to have this life."
"It was the president."
"Oh."
"Want another drink?"
"Sure" | Man 1: Overhears Man 2 talking to someone (ex:server/bartender) about how tired he is after..."Hey man props to you for having the guts to talk about it, to a stranger, in public no less."
Man 2: shrugs "I guess. I got used to it after some time. It's nothing to be embarassed about, just different interests to sustain ourseleves. I'd be concerned if he was government though." (Man 2 says chuckling a little)
Man 1: "Oh... can I buy you a beer?"
Man 2: "Sure."
Man 2 gets seated next to Man 1 who shifts a little.
Man 1: "So who was your best... body?"
Man 2:"Oh... I didn't really pay attention to that. Like I said, it's an interest, I enjoy it, but it's also just a job."
Man 1: "Really? What's your body count?"
Man 2: "I don't know. Could be 256, 243, 317 etc, no clue."
Man 1:"You're lying."
Man 2: shakes head
Man 1: "Wow, so how long have you spent in jail?"
Man 2: "I've never been arrested, to this date at least."
Man 1: "Woah, really! That's very impressive. How did you do it?"
Man 2: "Huh? The regular way I suppose. Many of us don't get arrested you know."
Man 1: "A gun? What do you mean?"
Man 2: "No! What? What kinda sicko are you?"
Man 1: "What do you mean! A gun is quicker, and, far less painful..." | 2022-04-26T05:15:50 | 2022-04-25T22:30:31 | 39 | 14 |
[WP] Oops, the simulation messed up. Everybody has been re-aged to match the maturity of their inner person. This has made office life a little strange | It started out as a normal morning, you wake up at 5:30, get ready, grab something eat and you’re off to go to your job at the office. Except one thing…you’re sixteen years old again, and get this notification on your phone *warning, the simulation has a rip in it and your civilian will be experiencing age regressions…please remain calm as we are fixing the problem. Have a nice day*.
Great, just when I thought Monday couldn’t get it any worse. My boss was a ten year old annoying little kid and my coworkers were various ages and wore clothes from when they were that age so it looked like an episode out of the office at my job today.
I even had to discipline my boss, yeah thought I would have to do that…ever. Right now, some of my coworkers are crying because they are babies, some of them are playing beer pong because they are college students and others want ice cream or candy because they are children.
I look at the clock and see it’s only 12…”this is going to be a longgg day”. I say as I helped give a bottle to my supervisor. | part 1: you wake up, to notice... you're fifteen again! but you look at your phone, to see it's not 2000. it's 2022. you wipe your eyes, as you think you saw something else. you remember you have work today, you quickly make some toast, and bolt out the door. you kept on running. faster and faster you run. your favourite song plays, "oh my! feels like i don't try!" (everybody loves me - one republic) the music played on, and on. you get to work on time. you glance at your phone. "Alert! Alert! There has been a problem with The Simulator's realism and age properties. Many glitches have occurred within the last few days. The Maintenance will fix this soon." you think about this for a second. as you reach for the phone, you bug out. alas, you end up in The Glitch Room. you walk around. people... are npc's here. atleast, they act like npc's. you hear, "Hello. You are here because The Simulator either deleted you, or you discovered a glitch. Either way, The Maintenance is currently working on trying to bring you back online. Now, This is not heaven or hell, exactly. This is The Glitch Room. Soon, you will be accompanied by realistic humans. This room shall soon look like The Simulation that you live in." silence. pure silence.
part 2: after a while though, you walk around the field the voice spoke about. you wander as the people make noise. you go back to The Simulation. you've been there for... 12 hours!? what!? you rush home. your discord friends have been quote en quote *bugging* you for the past couple hours. you respond. "guys what the fuck just happened, i got teleported to a black room ALSO JOIN THE DAMN VC GUYS" on the voice chat, you continue on explaining what happened. "wilbur," your best friend says. "that was a pretty insane explanation tbh" you swear it was real. you end the call.
part 3: you sigh a heavy sigh, and get up. you get to the fridge and make dinner, as always. (writers block, check back later) | 2022-04-30T06:47:12 | 2022-04-30T06:23:30 | 102 | 27 |
[WP] Oops, the simulation messed up. Everybody has been re-aged to match the maturity of their inner person. This has made office life a little strange | I am a 30 years old web programmer.
I don't understand why these things happened to every one of us. Hell knows. They said the simulation upstairs about re-aging messed up. But why this becomes a cruel reality check for me?
Didn't they say that our age will be matching the maturity of our inner self? Then why everyone's age changes, but mine don't?
I know it, I am just a plain damn worker, right? Right to my inner heart. I am not really doomed to work until death, am I?
Wait, what is this picture my mom just sent?
Oh, me as a little boy playing with rocket toys. Now those were good days. Imagine sitting on a rocket, flying to the moon, BRAVO! The feeling, the uncertainty, the adventure! Those stuffs really make me... !!!
*
I am a 12 years old boy who dreamt to be an astronaut.
You guess what? My big ol' body just changed its shape. I knew it! I still have my child inner self inside! I am not a worker doomed to work till death. Now that is liberating.
Those times where freedom... Wait, does it mean I have to go to school again? Oh no, not this. If that means I will have to go to school, then I rather just grow up.
You know, sitting whole day long, without working. What a free time. I don't want to study, or work. I want free time. I want peace... !!!
*
I am a 71 years old man, sitting on a wheel chair.
Shit, why did I grow old in such a short time. Every movement I make just hurt my bones. I get it, I am wrong now. Please, bring me back. I'll work, I don't want this crispy body. Come on, my inner self... !!!
*
I am 30 years old web programmer.... Yet, I am also a 12 years old boy and 71 years old man. | D: "Haha Jim very funny. Great prank. Now I know why Cici will never go to University, because you spend all your money on make up and actors for a great prank."
J: "Dwight I..."
D: "No no no child you shut up now. First off all I despise child actors, your parents are the reason why this country lost in vietnam and if you want to Adress me it is not Dwight it is Mr. Schrut or sir.and second off all outside personell are not allowed on the premessis of the company and I will call hank if you don't leave right away."
D: Pamala go fetch your real husband, I want to rub it in his face. By the way have you always had so many wrinkels. I'm on top of the World. Jim is going to be sooooo fired. Uffff. I need a breather for a second"
Finally Jim could get in a word: "Dwight didn't you get the Memo? The Matrix is beeing reset. Now I really need to get some work done so would you mind not thinking so loud?"
D: "You really believe I'm this stupid don't you? MICHEAL!! MICHEAL!. I need to speak to you Jim has really gone too far now, he..."
There was a fourish year old sitting in micheals chair pretending to blow up a toy truck.
D: "Now this. This and kidnappings Mose. That is too much. Small Jim tell me where the Real Jim is I am fullfilling a citizenarrest, Micheal would never participate in this so you had to get him out of the way."
J: "Still here Dwight, but I'm not yet Criminally responsible as you might have noticed, sooo I think I could break you action figures...
D: "collector Items"
J: "... or just straight up murder you and there is not really anything you can do against it. Can you now?"
Just as Dwight came up with the perfect rebuttle, fake old Oskar interrupted: "Could you guys keep it down a bit, or Kevin will start crying again and I really have no idea how to make him stop" he gestured to the baby sitting on his lap, which was way to distracted by the Kat sitting in the cookie Box too cry or do anything else "and for Christ sake get Angela out of this thing or she might take a shit in it and I will not clean it up, do you hear me. I'm totally swamped. I got Meredith running around shirtless somewhere here and if this baby cries again I...." he trailed off
Dwight finally took a look around. He never noticed Creed had such long and curley browm hair and Stanly seemed suspiciously more deadish then usually, but Besides the great Vortex of Tentacles in the breakroom everything seemed normal. He sat down on his Beetshaped chair and Finally open up his memos on the Toaster. | 2022-04-30T09:33:54 | 2022-04-30T08:57:22 | 33 | 14 |
[WP] You’re an astronaut exploring a nearby planet that could harbor life, and to your delight, you find what seems to be an intelligent alien. However, they seem scared. To your surprise, the alien yells into a communication device “CODE RED! CODE RED! A HUMAN HAS ESCAPED EARTH!” | There are few things one just can't prepare themselves for. In this case, it's the alien running in circles like a panicked toddler after one of us touched down on what is apparently one of their planets.
It wasn't like anyone expected them to be there. Unexplored planets could possibly have signs of life. It actively running from you and speaking in a translator in a language similar to your own is the real anomaly.
"THE HUMANS ARE HERE! OH GODS NO! SEND BACKUP!" It continued shouting. It hadn't really made any real progress on escaping howver. If anything the little guy was too busy waving his appendages and running, well, rolling away from the astronaut. It didn't really have legs. Clearly it had a mouth? Where else was the voice coming from.
Camila shook her head in an attempt to ignore that thought. She didn't want to know. The point was, intelligent life had been found here. She made sure her suit recorded the whole thing.
"This is Camila. Can... can all of you see this too? Francis?"
"Should we be worried?" Francis asked over the growing commotion in the ship.
"It's kinda sad. He keeps trying to get away from me." She said as she began cautiously walking after the alien. The gravity was a bit lighter than calculations first measured. So she found herself occasionally having to right herself slowly to climb over obstacles in here way.
"That thing might be dangerous." Francis warned her.
"It's still freaking out." She advised.
"THIS IS OFFICER NIMA! REQUESTING EVACUATION! I AM BEING PURSUED!!"
To her and the crew's alarm, the sticky ball waddled up a rock surface Camila herself found near impossible to climb. She stopped and watched as it found a rock that jutted out, stuck to it, and heard it scream as the brittle rock broke away. Although the gravity wasn't bad for her, it seemed like Nima fared worse.
The creature bounced off several rocks before landing basically at her feet.
"Um. Hello?" Camila asked, trying her best to kneel a little. To her growing concern, Nima (was it?) didn't seem to be breathing. She poked the thing's suit in hopes the thing would maybe respond. Of course everyone back on the ship reacted harshly. They didn't know what it was capable of.
Camila perhaps out of concern, squished the thing with her hand slightly again to see if it did anything.
"Ow." The ball reacted.
"Oh good. You're alive." She greeted again.
Of course the ball jolted back to trying to flee before Camila scooped it up and looked at it. And then at the spaceship now looming above.
*"This is the expeditionary vessel Tebogo. Release your captive or we will be forced to fire."* an announcement rang.
Camila set Nima down and float stepped her way away from the little creature.
"Is that better?" She asked the ship.
No answer came. The little ball was sucked upward, the lights above went out and the ship disappeared.
And she was alone again.
"Camila, come in. What happened?"
"We're not alone? But I think they hate us. Just a little."
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite | Any good pet owner first needs to wrap their heads around how to deliver a consequence. Pets screw up. Dogs chew on books. Cats try to escape from an open door. Birds peck. The owner needs to figure out a loving, but strong way, of delivering the message “Hey, you cannot do that, something bad will happen.”
Owners for years have borrowed from their own parents in selecting the Time Out as the best consequence. Dog jumps on the table? Time out. 5 minutes in another room. Its easy, it doesn’t involve yelling, and it gives the owner a break.
Martians had kept humans as pets for centuries. And why wouldn’t they. Humans can be pretty hilarious. Always trying to accomplish new things, and failing in hilarious fashion. Look at this one, trying to get that other one to like him. Look at this one, exercising, trying to get in shape. Plus humans tend to live well in packs, so Martians could keep a handful of them in a home on one of the Martian Plots. The video recording technology allowed Martians to observe from a far distance, let the hijinks ensure, and enjoy the show.
The problem with humans though was the violence. You could throw 1000 humans in a sphere and they would mostly just coexist, hilariously trying to coerce one another to accomplish their own mundane goals. But sometimes, human number 1001 just loses it and gets violent. Though Martians tried their best to control what got in an out of the houses back on Martian Plots, sometimes a human would get a hold of some really power piece of Martian technology - one of the Evaporators or even one of the TeleportationToBlackHole Buttons. And boom, all the pets would be gone. A total disaster.
The Martians had tried other consequences. They started with lecturing, but humans seemed uniquely impervious to listening to reasoned argument. They tried to isolate the violent ones on the planet Mars, but the humans seemed to just sit and wait.
That’s where the Earth Time Out started. Humans that just could not control their violent urges were sent to Earth, for what was supposed to be a Ten Year Time Out. With the Martian technology, the trip to Earth took 20, 30 minutes tops. So you could drop a human off in the time out area, and then set a timer to get back in 10 years, hoping they would learn the lesson.
This was an ill-sighted plan. The violent humans dropped off on Earth enjoyed one of humans other favorite activities - procreating. Sleeping together. Making babies. So a handful of problematic humans quickly turned into a planet full of humans, but uniquely unstable ones. The Earth Time Out Policy was ruled a complete failure under the reign of Martian Zorbas 6401, who declared no more transportation between the planets, to prevent the violent species from infecting the otherwise calm set of humans still kept as pets.
You can imagine my surprise then, when I walked out front of my house, saw a human being who was not one of my pets, and noticed he was holding a small handgun. I yelled into my wrist, which communicated to my SubSquadrant Leader, CODE RED! CODE RED! A HUMAN HAS ESCAPED EARTH!” We had to act fact, as an Earth human, this one was cursed with this awful fight or flight response to almost anything new, and the type of human that made it all the way here was not the kind to run away from a scary situation.
The SubSquadrant quickly descended, and followed Martian protocols. They came equipped with multiple screen showing footage of the humans from the back of the Martian Plots. We understood the human would recognize this as similar to his own “Reality TV” and he would immediately become complacent, docile, and would generally forget whatever had bothered him. He would watch this calmly for a few hours, before remembering his purpose here, which was likely to inflict harm.
We surrounded the human while he was watching the screens, wrapped him up, and quickly launched him away from the Earth in a Galaxy skipper. This would ensure no Pet Human on Mars found him, no Earth human him to learn about Mars, and we could go back to our Martian ways. | 2022-07-12T07:35:45 | 2022-07-12T05:47:13 | 260 | 65 |
[WP] Time travel exists, and a new form of capital punishment is introduced: Transporting the convict back to the worst, practically unsurvivable, places in human history to find yourself in. You are such a convict, and just got sent back. You will do anything to try and survive. | The light was blinding, a flash of brilliance compared to the dingy room I lay in moments ago. A flashing pain struck through my body. A mass gathered in my skull. Expanding, Growing. I can't take the pressure. I can't take the pressure anymore. My head. My head. Its going to... I'm going to... The pain is gone. Replaced with a foggy mask of land, growing clearer, closer by the second. Muffled cries and.... gunshots... sounds not heard in ages, melaneia. Everything was done before it started now. In the time I came from. Warheads wiping out lands to radioactive dust, obliterating everything. The land came up to meet me. I crumpled to the ground with a cry. The shock of what just happened reached me. Nothing would move. Nothing did move. A pure blackness surrounded my eyes, as I faded into nothingness.
I moved from blackness to blackness, opening my eyes to a starless night. The sounds around still carried true. I sat up and looked around. A trench. A maze of trenches, laid out from end to end, navigating the warfront. A sprawl of men laid before me, puss oozing from every crevice of their rotting bodies. A cesspool. A bloodbath. I pulled one from the ground, looking less rotten then the rest, and stripped off green grey uniform. I tossed the body next to the rest of them, covering one with another. The smell of the fermenting flesh was overbearing. Gas. They were using gas. I had to get out. I had to get away quickly. I had to get away before I was afflicted... Hours. Hours. Hours. Hours. Hours. A light of day. My legs felt weak. They fell out from under me. The darkness consumed me again.
The sun's heat blazed against me. I woke up. Mid day. The trenches still spanned from infinity to infinity. I walked on till I could no longer. I lay against the wall and accepted it.
A graveyard of soldiers. Passing slowly. Closer and closer. I stood up, wavering. Body a barren wasteland. They spotted me and ran over, arms ready to strike at any false move.
"Namen und Dienstgrad!"
I stood, dazed, questioning.
"Namen und Dienstgrad! Wer sind Sie!".
Louder this time. More distain. More hate. More fear.
My hands fell from my pockets, and raised to the sky.
A clink, as something metalic fell out from where my hand just lay. A dogtag. A name sat within my pocket. An identity. A new being. An idea. Something clicked in my mind.
I spoke.
"Gefreiter, sechzehnten Regiment , Hitler, Adolf, Herr".
| I opened my eyes and found myself looking at the sky. I had heard Time Travel was painful but nothing was ever said about landing on a rock. I sat up, judging by my clothes and the small village near by I gathered I had been sent back sometime between 1600 and 1700. "Well then..." I said out loud. This was a place I could presumably...live in.
I rubbed my head, it was throbbing. I was trying to think on what the pioneer equivalent to an ice pack would be when I heard the screaming. I stood up and looked towards the sounds, and saw flames erupting from a house hold I could barely see. I ran uphill hoping to find a cliff from where I could see what was happening. It was illegal to send someone to any time of real consequence; so whatever was happening couldn't be that bad.
I found a cliff and almost screamed myself. Dozens of longboats unloading onto shore, Vikings. Of course. I was screwed. I could see white men and natives taking up arms, grabbing pistols and bows and whatever weaponry they had available. But I shook my head, I had never heard about a Viking attack in the US history books. That meant that survivors were going to be few and probably put into slavery.
"Well shit." I said again out loud, to no one in particular. I had two options. Run into the forest and hope they don't go too far in mainland. Maybe I could find a nice tribe to settle with. Or two, go down there and meet my maker. I sighed watching the warriors start their raid of the small town. Giant looking men and women swinging their axes and huge swords. I crossed my arms, "I deserves this.", and went down to the village.
I came down behind a large viking male attempting to break down what I assumed was the blacksmith's door. It was just a guess given that it was one of the better put together houses. I snuck up behind him and grasped the sword he had struck into the ground, I pulled with all my strength and ran the viking through as hard as I could. I had no idea if this blacksmith would be historically important, but I knew I just slew a viking, I almost took pride in that.
I turned to face a woman, she wasn't wearing a helmet but she was clad in armor. Her blue eyes shined through the black line she had painted across her face. She spoke, "oda goocheck smewupption." I was no linguist by any sort of the definition but I assumed that was some form of ancient Norse. "I do not speak your language." I said with as much confident I could muster. I was a pretty tall guy, but not much with muscle. She on the other hand, was just about six feet and appeared to have never skipped a day at the gym. She was wielding an ax, and I must have been wielding a bullseye because she hurled that ax right at my chest.
it struck hard right where she wanted it, sending me flying back a number of feet. The wind had been knocked out of me, I was swore, i could barely move...but I wasn't bleeding. I heard the viking woman approach and it sounded like she was laughing, but she stopped when she saw I wasn't dead. It took ALL of my strength to remove the ax from my chest. The tear in my shirt revealed the ax had stopped when it a piece of grey clothing someone had put on me. I tapped my finger on it, it felt like solid steel. But then how could I not feel it's weight? The viking woman lunged at me, picking me up by the collar of my shirt, but I was barely aware of that. Someone had put that... ax proof shirt on me, but why? And then it hit me: Someone wanted me to survive this! | 2015-01-24T15:17:29 | 2015-01-24T14:06:11 | 38 | 18 |
[WP] The Government puts out a notice, and you, a random citizen have been selected. If you survive for another 10 years everyone in the world gets $10,000. However, if someone kills you in the next 9 years and 364 days they alone get $10,000,000. | My name flashed on the screen. Not just my name--my date of birth, my city of birth, and my picture, a photo from a couple of years ago we were forced to submit. The moment I saw it my heart leaped into my throat and my gut felt like someone dropped a ton of rocks in it. Time seemed to stop, and all there was was the television screen and the soft robotic voice of the announcer. Then, adrenaline rushed through my body. I knew the game. We all knew it. The next step was to find safety.
I rushed through the living room, into the kitchen, down the stairs into the basement. As I did I heard my wife Janet begin to wail upstairs. She was giving our youngest, Bryson, a bath, and listening to the broadcast on the radio. I heard her shout, "No, no, no, no," again and again as she drained the water from the tub and shuffled her feet upstairs, no doubt wrapping Bryson in a towel so she could come downstairs to catch me. I'll never know for certain.
In the basement we had a closet with three large backpacks hanging on hooks. One for me, one for my wife, and one for our oldest son, Daniel, who was away to college right now. Dust collected on the tops, thickest on mine and Janet's. The phone rang upstairs. I could hear my wife stomping around up there. The air in the basement was musty, like moldy bread. I grabbed my backpack off the hook and quickly unzipped it, ensuring the clothing and food inside was still vacuum sealed, still safe from the elements.
"Lewis!" I heard my wife cry out. "Lewis don't go yet!" Bryson was crying. Viola, our middle child, just starting eighth grade, came out of her room. "What is going to happen to dad?" I heard her say, her voice muffled above. I had the backpack on and was running toward the stairs leading up to the back entrance. I could feel the tears running down my face. As I reached the top of the stairs, I threw open the back door. Janet's voice, loud and despairing in my right ear, screaming for me to stop, to take her with me.
I almost stopped. I almost took her with me.
Immediately upon leaving the back door, stepping out into the cold night air, I barely saw my neighbor, Allan, standing across the driveway, behind his white picket fence, silhouetted by the lights of his home. He had a hunting rifle leveled at me. He never said anything, he just took the shot, and I managed to duck out of the way just in time. He was too close for such a long range weapon, and he knew it, dropping the rifle and pulling a silver pistol out of his side holster. I was running down the driveway to the car, my car, my breath hot in my lungs. I had just eaten a big dinner before the announcement--spaghetti and meatballs, a nice salad. Garlic bread. Glass of wine. I could feel the acidity of the pasta sauce gargling up my throat.
Allan took a couple of shots at me, all missed. I reached the car and threw myself inside, starting the engine without even thinking about it. Allan shot twice more, putting a hole in the windshield. I turned on the headlights, and he was now in full light. Viola was there too, and I heard her scream, "Stop shooting, you asshole!" Allan looked over at her, then quickly ran inside his house as I pulled out of the driveway. My wife never left the house. I drove in silence for hours, tears pouring down my face, choking myself with my own sobs. I slept in the back seat. I watched the sun rise while eating a bag of beef jerky.
The first step, they say, is to get as far away from everyone you know as you can. They are always the first to come, because they know you, they know how you work, where you go, what you do. After that, it's just a matter of hunkering down and moving constantly. That's how you make it. Or so they say. But the big thing is: you never go back. | In the moments before my first stage performance, my mentor had laid a hand on my shoulder and stared into my eyes. Though he was getting older, his beard was neatly trimmed and his hair was in perfect order. A performer to the end. I met his eyes, speckles of green and brown across a field of blue. I remember thinking that he seemed to be staring straight through my anticipation and into the very structure of my soul.
"Are you ready?" he'd asked after a moment.
"No," I'd replied—because magic is the practice of deception, and in order to deceive we must first face the truth without flinching. He'd been the one to teach me that, though never in words. That was always the way with him.
Thinking back in later days, I could never decipher the expression my reply provoked. Some days it seemed sorrowfully proud, others resigned and joyful.
"Good," he had said at last. "We're never ready when our moment comes."
*But we face it all the same*, I thought. He nodded, and I took the stage.
*
Set up. Step in. Transcend. The three parts of any magic trick. You begin by leading the audience along, constructing the framework they'll use to understand what happens next. Then you step into that framework, playing along with the expectations you've created. Finally, you reveal the exception you'd buried behind their expectations, blinded by their preconceptions. The hat contains a rabbit and the card was in your hand all along.
When I heard the government had marked me for death, I heard those words again. The voice of my mentor, who died long ago, and the voice of my younger self, unaware of the path on which I had just taken the first step. I heard, and I chuckled quietly to myself.
I wasn't ready for this moment. If I'd had a choice, I'd have given myself a few
more months at least. But though reality gives us more choices than we always see, this wasn't one of them. I'd have to work with what I had.
A good performer knows his audience, so I watched social media as I made my preparations. The Internet had figured out my home address in a matter of minutes, but one of the perks of being a traveling performer is that you're often not at home when a band of amateur killers decides to come knocking. Of course, they figured out just as quickly that I'd done a show in Minneapolis two days ago, so presumably they'd find my real location before too long.
Reactions to the announcement varied. For many, it was disgusting and unthinkable, another sign of the depravity of the current administration. Others wished me well, whether out of support for the underdog or fantasies of getting their hands on a chunk of the payout. Some, of a more utilitarian bent, I suppose, were demanding I turn myself over GiveWell to be executed for the greater good. And to top it off, of course, an endless stream of thinkpieces dissecting my options.
I checked the recording equipment one more time, and began my livestream. We're never ready when our time comes.
"Good evening," I began, "and welcome to what will be, unfortunately, my final show."
I gave it a couple minutes to go viral—I needed as many eyes on me as possible—then prepared for the final climax.
"I view this choice as a gift, of course," I said. "Spend the next ten years of my life in hiding for the good of all, or direct someone to kill me for some noble goal. The prospect of my own death has sharpened my focus wonderfully, and I thank the responsible parties for the opportunity. But this seems an impossible choice, and I've never been one to bow to the inevitable."
I paused a moment for effect.
"I took a moment to review the text of the bill, and as it turn outs, no one gets any money if I kill myself. I'm afraid my pride doesn't allow for anyone to profit from my death, you see, so I will have to disappoint you all. I hope the government can find a more productive use for the money."
*We face it all the same.*
On live camera, in front of millions of viewers, I put the gun to my temple, fired, and died.
*
Set up. Step in. *Transcend.*
I woke amid the scorch marks on the floor. The magical release had knocked out the camera, as I'd hoped—hopefully they'd seen nothing after the gunshot. I put a hand to my temple, feeling the exit wound rapidly scabbing over. I hadn't been certain, hadn't been confident in my designs, but someone had thought I was ready.
I sat up slowly and saw him standing just outside the ritual circle. Blue eyes, speckled with green and brown, stared straight through mine and into the depths of my soul.
"I never told you," he said at last, and there was that unreadable expression from my memories. Pride and sorrow, resignation and joy. An old man watching his student take the first step on a hard journey.
I drunk deep of it. Then I threw back my head and laughed. | 2017-05-17T20:01:23 | 2017-05-17T19:51:43 | 397 | 177 |
[WP] - You are immortal, locked up in a room with no windows, with only a toilet, a bed, a sink and a door with a latch where every hour someone checks on you. You don't remember why or how long you have been locked up there or where 'there' is. Then the door opens and a man says "we need you". | I had been locked inside there for somewhere nearing one thousand years. Well, I didn't know it was nearing one thousand years at the time, and in truth I hadn't been locked up at all.
But none the less I thought I had been locked up, and it had been nearing one thousand years when a man opened the door, and it creaked as it opened and dust fell from its edges on to the floor like sand flowing from an hour glass but for only a moment.
Once the door was fully open, and I saw the man stand before me, I had no idea who he was. Complete stranger.
"We need you," he said.
"Smaus boos for weatherman?" I said in return.
"What?" he said.
"I said smaus boos for weatherman", again I said. And my dear reader I'm sure at this point you're wondering, did you acquire brain damage? Did you lose your mind? Were you fucking with him? Is that some long forgotten language that for some reason seems to incorporate English prepositions and noun compounds?
The answer is, no, to all of those questions. Fortunately for you while writing this I have the gift of hindsight to elucidate the matter.
It would seem that I am immortal. As immortals do so often do I built so much wealth that it could perpetuate itself into infinity. When one has no financial needs and no health needs one has no real needs. Everything else in life is merely a want. When in such a situation the mind becomes remarkably patient. In fact every day your patience grows.
You may even become so patient that you don't even notice as an hour or so slips by while you entertain yourself with your thoughts. And that hour slips in to days, which slips into years, and eventually you might even be able to go whole centuries without paying any mind to anything at all outside your mind. In my case I'd gone into my quarters, where I had all the things one needs should you wish not to pay any mind to the world, during a party of immortals.
It seems a party of immortals is what one does when the rest of sentient life on Earth dies out.
For whatever reason, no one can recall if I bothered to give one, I had told my guests I'd need a moment and retired there before asking them to please get me if they should need me for anything.
In my solitude over the years I had forgotten my whole life, and I'd forgotten which words were words I'd created and which ones were shared by other minds. Over time the visits through the mail slot and my not having left over the centuries had convinced me the door must have been locked.
James had been checking on me every so often over the centuries to see if I had any plans to return to the party using the mailbox latch that my servants would use when there were still servants alive to do such things.
After our initial confusion James spent some time reacquainting me with shared English words and with the abridged history of immortals and human history. That only took a year or so. And then we continued our conversation.
Me: "Oh, so what was it you needed me for by the way?"
James: "Oh yes, that, I'd nearly forgotten. Ada noticed that we'll run out of alcohol synth material in a century at our current rate of consumption. She wanted to know if you had any reserve you could bring in from the back down to the party."
Me; "Oh, I don't really know." | It's been long, how long I can't recall, but I know it's been very long.
I have no idea what day it is or even if it's day or night. I really do miss the dark, it is always light in here.
_SNAP_
"Are you still there?"
_SNAP_ _SNAP_ _SNAP_
"Helloooooo."
Ugh, that annoying voice, I haven't heard voices for a long time and the first I hear is from this guy.
I lift up my hand to stop him from snapping his fingers again. "What is it" I reply begrudged, gritting my teeth at the same time.
"We need you, your time has come."
"For what? More tests? Oh no wait you never do tests, you just locked me in here for years! Hell, maybe even millenia and yet you need me? Do you have any fucking idea how annoying the sound is of that goddamn latch every single hour!? I lost count after a few thousand!"
I take a good look at the person in front of me. Small, thin and weak, the first things that come to mind.
"It was absolutely necessary, you would never understand, your primate brain would never comprehend, but rejoice it is the day we need you! Now get dressed in the clothes I gave you and no zoning out once we get there!"
That voice, so happy, so full of joy, for what? I deny him any verbal response and look down to check out the clothes he put down in front of me.
White shirt, white jacket, white tie, white pants, socks, shoes belt everything white. Except the two cufflinks, one is a dark shade of red, other gold. Weird.
The man waits patiently while I get dressed and then gestures to follow him. The clothes feel weird. Going from a simple prison outfit to this.
As we're walking away from my cell, I feel terrified, that cell was my home, how maddening it may have been.
Now they need me and I'm out, into the unknown. I don't want that, I can flee! Hah, I could probably take this guy, he doesn't even lo-
"Don't even try it."
"Try what?"
"Escape."
How the fuck did he kn-
"Can't tell you, also we are nearing the door, be on your best!"
We are approaching a white door, I just realized everything, everything is white here, clinical white, only the cufflinks stand out.
"Carry on, I won't join you."
I grab the handle and I feel hope, this could be it, what's on the other side, is it freedom or a nightmare?
I step into a dimly lit room, there is a desk in the middle, two chairs jn front of the desk and one behind the desk. There is no one at the desk, well that's weird.
"Take a seat please, I will be right with you."
I look around, I don't see speakers or a window, no other doors either besides the one I came through.
_SNAP_
"I said take a seat."
"Well which on-"
_SNAP_ _SNAP_ _SNAP_
"Silence, just take a seat."
Fine, I walk towards the desk and sit down in one of the chairs.
"Look to your left"
I look to my left
"Now look back at the desk."
I look back and I jump from chair. There is a man sitting on the desk, holding a folder.
"Nice trick isn't it? All my patients, get spooked, I was hiding behind the desk! Should have seen your face!" He laughs wholeheartedly.
I get angry, oh so angry: "You think that's funny? Fuck you, pal, I have been stuck in a cell for years and you're the second person I see after I got out and you pull a fucking prank like that!"
"Out?" He responds.
"Ye-"
_SNAP_
He snaps his fingers, man it sounds loud.
"Oh dear, you grossly misunderstand."
He lifts his hand, ready to snap.
"How do you mean misunderstand!?"
He now holds his hand in front of me.
"You didn't get out."
"Wait wha-?"
_SNAP SNAP SNAP_
I wake. The walls white, the bed white, everything white and the latch still softly trembles after being closed once more.
I cry, but I doubt anyone will hear me, it's been so very very long.
Next to me on my table, lay two marbles, one dark red and one gold, my only mementos to a life long since forgotten.
| 2018-07-31T15:33:36 | 2018-07-31T15:11:25 | 30 | 20 |
[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect. | From within the smoky dome could be heard the human prisoner shouting "Dude, start the gas already"
This wasn't the way death sentences normally went, the prisoner was placed into the dome. The smoke ascended, which doubled as a descency filter, and justice could be heard to have been achieved by the screams. The prisoner was supposed to dissolve within a few minutes.
"Can I have another last meal?, I'm hungry", laughter swiftly followed
The dissolved prisoner was supposed to be washed away through the floor grating. No mess, just justice, efficient and clean. No species had ever lasted more than 10 minutes.
The smoke was now so thick that the prisoner could have stood against the dome and still not be seen.
After an hour the shouting had stopped. All that could be heard was the sound of laughter. Laughter, some people just don't know how to die with dignity.
Maybe in another hour there would be silence. | From the light of my cell I glimpsed Xect'antenol, the Alien City, its garish glow oozing into an infinitude of stars. *How will I get out of this one?*
My extraterrestrial gaoler seemed unconcerned. With a sinister glare he unlocked my cage and shepherded me into a small room. "You. Die today," he declared furiously.
*Maybe I should plead for forgiveness*, I reflected. Yet my hopes of survival were promptly extinguished when the alien produced a small device from his sack.
"You die today," repeated the gaoler, "by toxic tetrahydrocannabinol." With that, he exited the room and left me chained to the execution wall.
I was never ready to die; there were planets yet to see, foes yet to kill, hearts left to squander. Today would not be the day. And so I waited on the brink of life and death with a deep resolve.
The room soon began to fill up. Tetrahydrocannabinol, the aliens called it, and it was rumored to be the most noxious poison of all.
*But what?* I suddenly felt much better. *Tetrahydrocannabinol is . . . perfume*?
The entire room was suffused with the fragrance of jasmine, rosewater, and African tulip. *Is that cauliflower as well*. The whole execution chamber was by now resplendent with odor.
I let myself drop to the ground. *Play dead*, I thought. My guile never failed to amaze me. *If I pretend I'm dead, they might just let me go.*
Sure enough, the alien gaoler came back in the room. "*Sh'ama ti'xa*," he called. "Bring in next one."
I felt myself falling. *They let me go!* I knew where the trash chute led; it looped back to the main planet system, where my ship was located.
I grinned. I had survived another day. But why did my eyelids feel so heavy . . . ? | 2020-05-20T08:01:56 | 2020-05-20T06:38:43 | 1,403 | 145 |
[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect. | The council was stunned.
The hapless humanoid creature lay on the ground of the gas chamber with his hands cradling his head, an expression of contentment on his face.
"Impossible!" The priestess of Maarken spat as she crossed her three sets of arms. "Bring me the Toka at once!"
"Y-y-yess Your Holiness," one of the council stammered, before rushing off.
"We must find out the meaning of this. If this creature cannot be killed, that can only mean one thing," the priestess said gravely. "The prophesy of the Toka is true, and we are all doomed."
Meanwhile Kyle was stoned out of his mind. He wasn't sure whether or not he would die, but his mind was beginning to relax deeply as visions of plump, juicy, watermelon caused the dry feeling in his mouth to become more unbearable. If this was how Kyle was going to go, he was glad for it. A rumble in his belly caused Kyle to errupt into a fit of giggles.
"This is a mockery," cried the priestess. "While we await the sacred Toka let us not be idle. Perhaps inhalation is futile. Bring forth the Green Death!"
Moments later Kyle shot up as an alien in what could only be compared to a hazmat suit placed a tray in the gas chamber and ran away quickly. He couldn't believe his eyes. In front of him was a huge molded Jello cake, the greenest he had ever laid eyes on, in the shape of a cannabis leaf.
Kyle took bite after bite of the Jello without hesitation. His mind slowly slipped even deeper into a high state. He laughed merrily as the realization dawned on him.
"You tried to kill me with weed? Ganja? The devil's lettuce?" He laughed and laughed.
Tears began to roll out of his reddened eyes and soon he found himself seriously needing to pee. He sauntered over to the drain in the ground and reveled in the euphoric feeling of emptying his full bladder. He sang loudly, and not well, as he did his business.
Above him in the observation chamber the council was in an uproar. Some members had begun to vomit violently. Others with stronger constitutions either averted their eyes or stared on in wide-mouthed horror.
The priestess of Maarken had tears streaming down her face.
"First, he releases a foul gas from the Unspeakable Place, earning his death sentence, and now, and now this! The horror! The utter disgust!" She sobbed violently. | The room started hissed as gas was forced inside. Carl panicked and started banging on the door begging to be let out fearing for his death.
“You have broken our sacred law and desecrated a shrine. You will pay the ultimate price for treating our gods with such disrespect.”
“Come on man! It was just some graphite to make the place interesting. I didn’t even know about that law either!” He sobbed.
The aliens ignored him.
Carl’s nose suddenly twitched and recognised the smell as soon as it reached his nose. Was this really the noxious war gas they used to dispatch their death sentence?
The effects took a moment to set in. But when they did, Carl’s mind shattered.
“Noooo!” His screams twisted into those of a dying animal.
The aliens jumped and felt their skin crawl. That sound was terrifying. They’d never heard any human scream like that. Not even the human girl that they performed surgery on when they ran out of morphine.
“My face! It’s melting off! Please let me out! I don’t want to walk around with a missing face! I can already not feel it!”
This puzzled them, it was clear on the camera that there was nothing wrong with Carl’s face. It was still intact. His eyes were red and wet and contorted in fear. But they were still okay which was puzzling. This human should have his eyes bursting and he should be chucking up blood. Not screaming like a paranormal S’ancati.
Their monitors picked up a spike in the human’s metabolism signalling that his stomach just sounded out in hunger confusing them even more.
“Is the gas just sapping his strength?” One of the aliens wondered.
“There must be something wrong.”
“Just release more of it.”
The hissing got louder as more gas burst in. Carl shrieked and unbuckled his belt. His hands shakenly wrapped it around his foot as he started punching it.
“It bit me! That fucking snake bit me! Help!” He crawled into a corner where he curled up.
He sucked in more air as he started hyperventilating. He pressed himself tightly to the ground thinking that he could float into outer space if he didn’t because of his lightheadedness.
“Ahh! Why do I feel so light?” He cried. “Keep those sharp things away from me! I’ll pop,” he pointed at the shadows his fingers made.
“*Shit!* call the high order.”
—Cease the execution. You fools are just making him high— the high order demanded once everything was explained.
—Who gave you the permission to impose our rule on the human tourist anyway?—
“It is the will of Yaureid /yah-oh-raid/, sires. He desecrated a temple of the gods and he must be...” the unanimous glare of the high order shut him up.
—FOOL! He *is* under the protection of Yaureid! He shall answer his crimes on his own world! Had this poison really killed him we could be susceptible to war! Execute this Fool!—
Two guards grabbed his arms being careful to not slice themselves on his shoulder blades.
They passed Carl by on their way to the chamber. The human was passed out from the sedatives he’d been given.
At that moment the alien wished he was one of his kind to avoid his fate.
Everyone was forced to look in horror as their friend melted away in excruciating pain for his mistake. Even as the skin on his face liquidated and fell from his bones, they were required to look on and make sure he served his sentence.
r/PsyionicWrites | 2020-05-20T12:33:09 | 2020-05-20T11:33:44 | 63 | 16 |
[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect. | The guard dragged me to the chamber. I tried struggling for about two minutes before I gave up. This alien guy was a 7 foot tall muscular thing and I’m a puny 5 foot something human. Long story short, I got stuck on some weird planet and I was sentenced to death. All I did was try to kidnap their equivalent of a king to take back to Earth to show my human friends. Now I know what you’re thinking- what kind of an idiot would be dumb enough to risk something like that? But I figured since things usually just work out for me, I’d take a chance.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the crowd that had come to see my execution. The guard dumped me into the chamber.
Menacingly, he asked “Any last words?”. But he closes the door before I could even open my mouth. “You’ll be dead in 2 seconds”, he said. The crowd was already yelling.
When the gas started coming in, it smelt oddly familiar. In a split second, I knew what it was. Weed. I sniffed a little more. Top quality stuff too. The room had started spinning. I started laughing uncontrollably and then started banging on the window. The noise outside suddenly diminished. I could see the audience whispering now and staring at me.
“He should be dead by now”, I heard the guard mumble to his partner.
Ten minutes later and I still wasn’t dead. They looked at me in awe. The guard pulled me out and shook me, he wasn’t menacing anymore. In fact he looked a little scared of me. I started laughing even harder and hugged him. And then something strange happened. One by one, the front row of the audience fell on their knees. And then, like dominoes, the rest followed suit. Soon the entire arena was kneeling down.
“He has finally come.”
“It’s a sign!”
A woman started sobbing and held up her child.
I was too high to try to figure out what was happening. So I closed my eyes for what I thought was barely 10 seconds.
But when I opened them again, I was in a room, on a bed, in what looked like their equivalent of a 7-star hotel. I rubbed my eyes and I wiped the drool off of my chin. The door was open and I could see a queue of people waiting outside.
“My lord, are you awake?”, said a low voice near my head, “will you bless our people?”
I blinked a few times. Like I said, things just always work out for me. | The room started hissed as gas was forced inside. Carl panicked and started banging on the door begging to be let out fearing for his death.
“You have broken our sacred law and desecrated a shrine. You will pay the ultimate price for treating our gods with such disrespect.”
“Come on man! It was just some graphite to make the place interesting. I didn’t even know about that law either!” He sobbed.
The aliens ignored him.
Carl’s nose suddenly twitched and recognised the smell as soon as it reached his nose. Was this really the noxious war gas they used to dispatch their death sentence?
The effects took a moment to set in. But when they did, Carl’s mind shattered.
“Noooo!” His screams twisted into those of a dying animal.
The aliens jumped and felt their skin crawl. That sound was terrifying. They’d never heard any human scream like that. Not even the human girl that they performed surgery on when they ran out of morphine.
“My face! It’s melting off! Please let me out! I don’t want to walk around with a missing face! I can already not feel it!”
This puzzled them, it was clear on the camera that there was nothing wrong with Carl’s face. It was still intact. His eyes were red and wet and contorted in fear. But they were still okay which was puzzling. This human should have his eyes bursting and he should be chucking up blood. Not screaming like a paranormal S’ancati.
Their monitors picked up a spike in the human’s metabolism signalling that his stomach just sounded out in hunger confusing them even more.
“Is the gas just sapping his strength?” One of the aliens wondered.
“There must be something wrong.”
“Just release more of it.”
The hissing got louder as more gas burst in. Carl shrieked and unbuckled his belt. His hands shakenly wrapped it around his foot as he started punching it.
“It bit me! That fucking snake bit me! Help!” He crawled into a corner where he curled up.
He sucked in more air as he started hyperventilating. He pressed himself tightly to the ground thinking that he could float into outer space if he didn’t because of his lightheadedness.
“Ahh! Why do I feel so light?” He cried. “Keep those sharp things away from me! I’ll pop,” he pointed at the shadows his fingers made.
“*Shit!* call the high order.”
—Cease the execution. You fools are just making him high— the high order demanded once everything was explained.
—Who gave you the permission to impose our rule on the human tourist anyway?—
“It is the will of Yaureid /yah-oh-raid/, sires. He desecrated a temple of the gods and he must be...” the unanimous glare of the high order shut him up.
—FOOL! He *is* under the protection of Yaureid! He shall answer his crimes on his own world! Had this poison really killed him we could be susceptible to war! Execute this Fool!—
Two guards grabbed his arms being careful to not slice themselves on his shoulder blades.
They passed Carl by on their way to the chamber. The human was passed out from the sedatives he’d been given.
At that moment the alien wished he was one of his kind to avoid his fate.
Everyone was forced to look in horror as their friend melted away in excruciating pain for his mistake. Even as the skin on his face liquidated and fell from his bones, they were required to look on and make sure he served his sentence.
r/PsyionicWrites | 2020-05-20T11:50:44 | 2020-05-20T11:33:44 | 36 | 16 |
[WP] Your name is Dave. People keep trying to call you other things, like "The Scourge of Seven Worlds," or "The Dread One," or "The Fifth Horseman." It's all very annoying. You just want to be called "Dave." | As soon as he came in, I could tell he was going to be one of \*those\* customers. He had the shaved head, gaunt face, coppery smell, and clothes from the 15th century that I'd come to associate with headaches and conversations that go in circles. "Welcome to Dave's Deli. What can I get for you today?" I say as I try to project cheerful professionalism.
"I have come to serve you, O Dread One," he says.
Of course. I try to keep my smile in place. "Well, thanks, but here at Dave's Deli, we say the customer is always right. Can I get a sandwich started for you?"
"The Reckoning approaches. Your army awaits your commands. What do you prescribe?"
The woman behind him in line has been slowly backing up. Hopefully I can wrap this up before the paying customers start leaving.
"Well, I always like a turkey club. That's on special today for $5.99, with chips and a fountain drink."
He pauses, looking a bit perplexed. "As you desire, Destroyer of Worlds," he replies after a while.
"Great! Cash or credit?" This is where the conversation usually goes south.
"I pledge to you my sword and my valor. I will serve you in the End of Days, Horseman!" he exclaims. The woman behind him walks away as she pretends to answer her phone, which is clearly off. The next customer lingers awkwardly for a moment before following her out. Great, there goes all my business. But I have this guy's valor, apparently.
I sigh. "Sir, if you can't pay, then please leave."
"I pledge my sword..."
"I said, leave," I repeat firmly.
"Your army awaits..."
"LEAVE!"
He looks crestfallen as he shuffles out the door. It's only 12:15, so there's still time for the lunch crowd. I try to collect myself, as I refill the napkin dispenser. The napkins erupt in a burst of flames. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Get it together, Dave. Your name is Dave, and you run a deli. That's all you need to do. I open my eyes in time to see a family of four coming in. With forced cheerfulness, I plaster a smile on my face. "Welcome to Dave's Deli. What can I get for you today?" | I... I think I'm adopted.
For one, my dad doesn't look anything like me... He says we have the same eyes, but he doesn't even have a third for fourth eye lid. I don't know what to believe, but he says I'll understand when I'm older. I am only... one hundred and eighty six years? No, one hundred and eighty seven years old, after all.
I've always been tall for my age. Dad says I still have a lot of growing to do, before he can put his plans in action... whatever that means. Dad and I live in a volcano, that's fun. We can look down and can see the little village full of... things. They look kinda like Dad, but without the crazy eyebrows.
When I was really little, like fifteen or so, I accidentally burnt up his big old bushy beard and singed one of his eyebrows off. He was pissed. And told me to fix it, but I didn't have the words for that. I had never grown a beard. And to this day, I'm not sure why anyone would choose to have a big ball of flammable fur stuck on their face. That's what some would call, an occupational hazard.
The things with the well groomed eyebrows come up and call me names. They come up here and wave those sharp pointy metal claws at me whenever I forget and eat the little white hairy things they like so much. I don't think those little white hairy things should be made out of food if your not suppose to eat them.
Dad, he talks funny to scare the things with the well groomed eyebrows off. I can't help myself, Dad keeps trying to use the dragon words. But he usually says them with a weird accent and makes me laugh. He might sound stupid, but can still shoot fire from his scary stick and tell clouds to scream at people and burn their house down. But to native speaker he just has a squeaky cute little voice.
I don't eat the people, cause dad told me not to. And he tells me that eventually, we will rule over all mankind. That sounds fun. I guess. He keeps telling me about this pretty girl we gotta go help. Her name is Princeps. That's a funny name.
I'm gonna be like... "Hello Princeps, my name is Dave and I am here to rescue you."
Dad says pretty ladies scream when they are happy. I don't know, I've never met a pretty lady. I hope she is happy to be rescued.
Sometimes Dad and I go out for a picnic. His wings fell off a long time ago, cause he is real old. So, I do the flying for him. We go out to his favorite spot with all the big black trees. And he says a whole bunch of dragon words that make those big scary rocks glow. He doesn't know all the dragon words though... I think he is trying to say "Summon fourth" but he keeps saying "Salami five." I tell him the book is wrong, and he just keeps on doing it. I dunno.
Dad repeats himself a whole bunch of times and he gets angry and burns something down. I like it when he does that. Then we settle down to eat a mountain goat or two there in the meadow, with those dark trees. We just sit together, watching the planets go out of alignment and cursing. I have such a cool Dad. | 2020-06-11T22:40:19 | 2020-06-11T21:52:12 | 43 | 26 |
[WP] As far back as you can remember, when you do something new, you will get an achievement that pops up in front of you that only you can see. Today, you were minding your own business when an achievement popped up. “Nice try: avoid a murder attempt.” | “Would you like a coffee?” asked the most inept of waitresses this coffee shop has seen so far.
I had just started typing again, I already have a coffee and according to a warning in the top right of my peripheral vision if I drank any more I would reach the “Caffeine: Very High” state and all the symptoms that came with it.
If I wanted a coffee I would be drinking the damn thing not ordering a second.
I flex my jaw and look up to break in the new rookie, wanting to avoid a repeat of this poor performance when I notice she isn’t even wearing the uniform… must be her first day.
I am about to give her the rundown of what constitutes the appropriate times to offer someone a coffee when an old friend appears obscuring my vision.
“*Bottoms up!: Offered a beverage as part of courtship*”
In fine print across the bottom read the familiar.
“*87.2% of players. Earned 7 years after the mean.*”
I learned long ago to not talk about the strange user interface that had worked its way from my mind to inhabit the world of technology.
Instead I selfishly claimed credit for it.
“Where did you get the idea to put timers on debuffs?” asked a colleague.
“Oh… it just came to me.” I would reply.
I dismissed the notification to see the woman’s face looking down at me.
“Would you like a coffee?” she repeated motioning to the chair opposite.
“Oh… yes of course.” I managed to answer to her implied question and moved my laptop to make room.
She makes herself immediately at home, placing her bag on the table and a cup in front of me, the label reads “grizzleguts” in a quick black scrawl.
“You must frequent here often, I asked for a ‘flat white for the cutie with a laptop’ and after having to point you out she offered to make your regular instead. I’ve always wanted to live somewhere long enough that shopkeepers recognise me but unfortunately I’m not a creature of habit.”
“*Play it cool!: Receive a flirtatious remark.”*
I avoided the fine print, not wanting to be told how far behind I was in this particular regard.
“I wouldn’t romanticise it, staff cycle through so you only have the experience for a few months at a time.”
“You’re a glowing ray of sunshine. Did you want the coffee?” she asked, pushing it toward me.
“I'm flattered but I have one already.” I responded once again being interrupted by the message.
“Nice Try!: Avoid a murder attempt!”
“0% of players. Earned 0 seconds null the mean.”
The notification vanished revealing a clear view of the coffee, I looked up to the woman's face to see her eyes glazed over for a fraction of a second before they focused sharply back onto mine, a smirk curling the corner of her lip.
“Huh… I guess that’s a first.” she said. | I never put too much thought into them. They were nice little surprises. From what I gathered over the years, they would pop up now and then, usually when I would try something new. Just like any old game, they would appear for a brief amount of somewhere in my field of vision. Some were comical, while others, they could up for interpretation.
Days were all the same as of late. Wake up, go to work, lounge on the couch playing some other video game, and maybe head out with some friends on the weekends. My routine had hardly changed a bit, so it was quite a field day for me when that little achievement box popped up that fateful day.
When it all happened, I had headed out to catch some fresh air. It had been some time since I’d been at the main city park.
Choosing a bench by the river, I took some moments to enjoy the ambiance. Sure, cars and honking trucks aren’t necessarily ambiance, but they were far enough to sound like faint sounds in the wind.
I wasn’t the only one there. Nearby, he sat there. Dressed as average as you could imagine, he sat there. The older man was feeding the ducks. Part of me wanted to tell him off since feeding wildlife is strictly prohibited around here, but why ruin the atmosphere?
The little achievement box that popped up disturbed the serenity of the moment.
*Nice try! - Avoid a murder attempt!*
Curiosity turned to confusion when my brain attempted to wrap itself around the meaning of the achievement. Nice try? Does that mean to stay away? Or was I doomed? The words ‘try again’ in a video game context isn’t the most peachy.
While I wished I could’ve brushed it off, who could with such a jarring note? Thoroughly fed up with the situation, it was a good time for me to head out.
It must’ve been a glitch, right? I mean all games have their occasional bug or two that needs to be patched. Glances over my shoulder failed to dispel the mounting anxiety and subsequent knots being formed in my stomach. That kind gentleman, smiling so eagerly as he fed the ducks, surely he can’t be. But, chances couldn’t be taken.
It didn’t take too long for me to end up in a pub. Numerous drinks later and my mind was still running high from that achievement. Was it saying my end is today or later? It was better to head home and sleep it off.
Preoccupied with my thoughts, I wandered about, trying to remember where my car was parked. Maybe I shouldn’t have had all that alcohol.
It gave that man the perfect opportunity.
I couldn’t tell you where he came from. He was just on top of me.
He pounced. With my lack of physical activity, my reaction time had been dampened. Screams that sounded more like weak yelps left my throat. His twisted arms locked around me. Stumbling about, my best tries at throwing him off, sent me to crash down upon the pavement. That pathetic thing still had the high ground.
Pain rechocited all around me. Vision blurred, hope was still there as I noted my car just a little up ahead. Almost there, almost there- my neck constricted. A stranger’s hands were now repositioned around my neck. He had me in his grasp. Shifting my focus to my legs, bold kicks turned floppy with my lessening air supply.
Heart aflame, and pounding headache, I kept up with my useless attempts at trying to wrangle myself free from my assailant.
However, my energy had been drained out. Shutting my eyes, I welcomed whatever was to come next. No new path greeted me.
Energy to open my eyes came back. The surroundings were still the same from when he attacked. Yet, he didn’t stir. Two large words were plastered over my field of vision.
*Try again?*
&#x200B;
r/CasualScribblings | 2020-12-07T18:50:36 | 2020-12-07T18:24:59 | 204 | 39 |
[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you. | It was early afternoon and I was walking home after a late lunch that Monday under the cool autumn sun, rubbing my potbelly with a wrinkled hand and a bittersweet sigh.
The food had been expensive, but it was a day where I needed comfort food. Not just any comfort food… the ultimate comfort food that I only saved for special occasions. The steak cooked at Harbmore’s that had been my favorite for as long as I could remember, that I had eaten in celebration during every graduation and celebration throughout my life. It helped ease the severe melancholy I often felt nowadays into nostalgia as warm as the food in my belly.
*Ah, if only I could go back and redo my life…*
A strong breeze tugged at my hat, causing me to hold it against my head, and tore at my jacket. The trees swayed at the strength of the sudden gust.
I opened my eyes. The sidewalk had been crowded, but now nobody was around.
Nobody except for a child standing across from me a little way down the sidewalk.
I looked at the little boy and he looked back at me. Even from the hundred meters or so that separated us, his features were striking to me. His dark hair, his nose, his facial structure, that school uniform…
*That face… he looks uncannily like me. It’s so similar it’s actually scary*, I thought.
At first, I thought I was hallucinating visions of my past into reality. However, I closed my eyes and opened them to confirm multiple times. But still, it couldn’t be me…
Then I remembered and an icy shiver ran down my spine. When I was 7 years old, I met a creepy old guy as I was walking on this street. For some reason, that meeting had given me such a weird feeling that I hadn’t forgotten it since.
*That old guy all those decades ago was me after all…* I thought.
For some reason, I chuckled. Then I burst out laughing, with almost hysterical intensity.
*I never knew I was this crazy. That my fantasies could break reality like this…*
*Hah, take that, world! You think I’m a useless geezer that's about to die, but I’m still kicking!*
The kid’s eyes widened.
I quickly stopped laughing.
*Wait! This means I have the opportunity to talk to myself seventy years ago. There’s so much I want to tell myself, so much I can fix! How do I even start…*
I walked forward, opening my mouth and revealing my missing teeth. The kid’s face crumpled in fear, like he was about to cry, and stepped backward.
“Wait…” I said, “Don’t go.” I uselessly reached out an arm after him.
Maybe it was the sheer desperation in my voice, but the kid froze.
I stepped towards him, ever so slowly, ever so gently, buying time as my mind raced.
*What can I say… what can I say… He’s just a kid. What can I tell him that he’ll remember? If he forgets, then there’s no use. It has to be one thing then…*
What is the one thing I want to change the most in my life?
*I could tell him how to get rich with stocks or something… but how do I tell that to a kid? I could give him general advice so I don’t have so many regrets… or maybe to eat more while he’s young so he gets a little taller? Wait, no, why would I waste this on something like that…*
I stopped in front of the kid and looked at his face. His skin was so smooth, his face and arms were still chubby. He was so precious and small, like a kitten.
My mind blanked out. I couldn’t think of anything to say. He melted my heart. I wanted to protect him. I didn’t want to see his face crinkle in fear or confusion as he looked fearfully at me, an old decrepit man with a potbelly and rotting teeth who was basically at death’s door.
I smiled at him warmly.
“You know what. Don’t change anything,” I said, “Just remember this. Whatever you do… know that I’m proud of you.” My throat constricted for some reason as I said the words.
The boy met my eyes for a heartbeat, sensing the genuine emotion within them…
Then he ran past me and away down the street without saying a word.
The strong wind blew again. I had to hold my arm to protect my eyes.
After the wind died down, I looked behind me and the kid was gone.
___
r/WanderWilder for more stories! | Heavens, that child is ugly. Look at those crooked teeth and that goofy grin. I wonder if the circus has lost one of its acts?
How I loved people watching. The simple activity of just sitting on a bench, judging anyone unfortunate enough to pass. I had to stifle my laugh, not wanting anyone to think I was a mad old man. That necklace he is wearing too, what sort of child in this day and age wears a Phantom man necklace. That show was old even in my day. I only ever had a necklace like that because of my dad. Wait, that can’t be possible, there’s no way. Is that me?
It didn’t seem like it should be possible, but everything about him just reminded me of myself. Before I could even process what I was doing, I stood up from the bench, slowly approaching the young child, trying to look as friendly as I could.
“Evening, that’s a nice Phantom man necklace you have there. Where did you find such a fascinating item?” I wasn’t exactly sure what sort of conversation to engage the child in, trying my best to get the answers I needed. Something about this giving me a bizarre sense of déjà vu.
“Of course, you would know about that dumb show. Yeah, my dad gave it to me. He says that Phantom man is the sort of person who young people should look up to, I say he’s lame.” The boy only gave the necklace a small slap, trying to make his opinion of it clear to me.
“You still wear it, though? You can’t think Phantom man is that lame if you wear his necklace.” I couldn’t believe this child was me. Was I always so rude?
I knew the true reason I wore the necklace. I cared little about Phantom man, but I loved my parents dearly. A gift from my father was something I would treasure. Whenever I wore that necklace, I wasn’t thinking of Phantom man; I was thinking of my father, thinking he was the hero sitting at the end of the chain.
“Because its expensive. Dad says its one of his rarest items and he gave it to me. That’s how much he loves me. Mum also gave me this really cool band aid that makes cuts painless. She’s amazing.”
“She is.” I agreed, reminiscing about the pair, enjoying the nostalgic memories that popped into my mind.
The old band aid trick. It took me until I was thirteen to realize she was lying about the special band aids she had. It’s amazing how anyone else could put a bandaid on a cut and it would still hurt. Yet when she did it, the pain vanished. Guess that’s the power of a mother’s love.
“Yep, my parents are the best.” The conversation appeared to have ended, the younger me turning to look at a nearby shop window. I couldn’t waste this chance. I had to pass some fatherly advice onto myself.
“Life isn’t always going to be easy. You will go through a period where you wonder if life’s even worth living anymore. Then Mom and dad will die, and it will break whatever’s left of your heart. The first period of your life may seem bad, but I promise it gets better. You meet a woman that loves you for who you are, accepts your imperfections and sparks your love of art.” I felt the need to aid myself through my future hardships, hoping that maybe I might ease my suffering a little during it.
“Did you say something, old man? I was looking at the cakes in that shop. I wonder if they have any for two dollars?” What a brat. I just gave him the best advice of his life and he ignored it, just like I did that time.
Then it hit me. This was the Déjà vu. I had this conversation before, just from the opposite side. How’s that even possible? I was so caught up in the bizarreness of it all that I didn’t question how this could happen. Was it time travel? No, I had done nothing that could lead to me travelling back in time. Was this a simulation? That had to be it.
“Listen to me. I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to find a solution. I think we might be stuck in some sort of simulation. Maybe a copy lives until the age of seventy-seven before fading away to make space for the new copy. But that makes little sense. Why would someone be watching my life? What purpose would this all serve?” My chest felt heavy, the world around me flickering with various colours. What happens after I meet myself?
“Whatever you say old man.” My younger self merely pushed past me, entering the shop to look at the cakes inside. Once he passed through the door, it vanished, leaving me standing outside, forced to bang on the window.
“Please, I don’t know what’s happening, but we can’t keep doing this. We need to break the cycle, listen to me.” I dug my hand into my shirt, pulling out the Phantom man necklace, pressing it against the glass. “We are the same person. Break the cycle.”
No matter how much noise I made, he just ignored me. When I looked at the once busy street, I spotted no one. Only the same flickering colours. The colours continued to flicker for a few more moments before slowly darkening around me, ready to envelop me in its embrace. I took one last look at my Phantom man figure, giving it a kiss before the darkness hit me.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-07-08T07:19:26 | 2021-07-08T06:43:07 | 73 | 54 |
[WP] An AITA post from a supervillain desperate to be told they're doing the right thing. | **AITA For trying to save the world from the alien.**
Calculations related to morality can be hard and they can lead to harder conclusions.
If an asteroid was heading in the general direction of earth with a 1% chance of hitting the planet and killing everyone on earth, all 7 billion humans, should we just **hope** it doesn't happen?
Or should we dedicate similar resources as we would to a threat that was 100% certain to kill 70 million people, 1% of humanity?
I've been called a villain... but my goal is and always had been defending the world.
The alien, "superman", it has become clear that if he decided to destroy humanity then he could probably do it in under 24 hours.
We have no idea the source of his powers. With the energy levels that seem to be involved he might just explode one day and take half the planet with him.
His mind seems similar to that of humans. Do these aliens ever suffer psychotic episodes? Delusions? Dementia?
Who knows!
It's hard to work out exact numbers on the chances of the alien killing us all but even with the most forgiving estimates the calculations always show at least 1% chance.
And so I **must** treat him as I would someone with a 100% chance of killing 70 million people.
If you could go back in time and stop Mao, Stalin or Hitler before they killed millions would you not have a moral duty to do so? Even if there was going to be collateral casualties it would still be your moral duty to stop them.
Yet the world calls me a villain for trying to kill the alien!
AITA? | AITA for… well, let’s just get right into this.
I was a hero, once. What they don’t tell you about being the hero is the bureaucracy. I felt I was gifted my power for a reason and it would be wrong of me to waste them, but I could not handle the leash I was placed on.
There are all these laws about property damage and image, what jurisdiction we have to not interfere with the police or military forces. Some choose to implement themselves into them, but I could never adhere to that type of community.
I don’t work well with people, I hate the spotlight. While other superheroes flashed a smile and signed autographs for adoring fans, I tried my best to retreat into darkness. I never wore my superhero outfit except when necessary. For others, it became their life. I had my own and did not want it consumed by this government monstrosity that keeps us chained.
Eventually, they began to notice that they did not have me on as tight a leash and tried to change that. I kept trying to distance myself from their shackles, but they grew ever tighter. One day, I snapped.
They were putting up a series of statues for new superheroes to honor them. I did not mind that they did not include me, but it was a way to send a message: that I would not put up with their bullshit any longer. I destroyed the statues.
Ever since then society has painted me as the enemy. I became what they wanted, a scapegoat. It was easier if society could imagine I was the corrupt one and the rest of the world would be cleansed without me. I paid the price for thinking.
I grew more bitter with each passing day. Those bastards could get away with anything, and I nothing. I made more public displays, each time leaving messages behind. I never killed anyone, only destroyed government property.
The only thing the news talked about is what a tragedy it was. And yes, when I attacked the police station it did have unforeseen consequences, but change is messy, is it not? I have no voice any longer, action is my only platform.
I say I was a hero, once, but in truth, I know not what I was or what I am. I don’t believe those smiling celebrities are heroes. Perhaps heroism is a myth, one I was stupid enough to buy into.
Crime is up now, so is unemployment and government debt. Society blames me. Do you? | 2022-05-01T09:24:03 | 2022-05-01T09:22:20 | 107 | 48 |
[WP] You are an immortal serial killer. You were caught and sentenced to life in prison. The prison is starting to get suspicious of why you won't age. | Thirty years have gone by in this prison since my last murder. I've had three cellmates in my time. Each one died within a month of moving in. I had nothing to do with any of the deaths. Regardless, I was now a curse in the eyes of the general prison population.
Now, they kept me by myself.
Jacob, the prison guard in my latest home of Cell Block 4A always would spend a little more time talking to me as he made his rounds. The clicking of his shoes on the cement prison floor was in a rhythm all its own, so I always knew when he was coming.
"Number 664, you lonely in there?" He asked just as his figure came into view through the bars.
"No, Jacob," I replied. " My thoughts are always with me in here to keep me company."
He paused and then smirked. He knew what I had done to get in here, but I was a harmless and interesting specimen behind bars to him.
"664, I've been working here for 15 years." He said. "You've been in here for twice that, right?"
"Yes, Jacob. That is correct." Was my simple reply.
His eyes passed over my body from head to toe, eventually meeting mine. He drew himself in close to the bars, never breaking his gaze.
For the first time, I was nervous with him. He was the only soul in this place who paid any attention to me, which is probably why no one had noticed my lack of aging.
"What's your real name, 664?" Jacob asked.
I hesitated. No one had asked me that since my last cellmate died. You almost forget you have one on the inside.
"I'm Augustine," I responded. "Augustine Cachot."
"Well that's an interesting name," he mused to himself. "Sounds very, shall we say... 'vintage' to me."
Jacob was a reasonably smart man. He was humble, metered and wise with an even temperament. I could tell that from my daily interactions with him. In 15 years, you can learn someone's soul from even the most mundane of interactions.
Jacob turned his back to me, stepping back from the bars of my human cage. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old photograph.
"Augustine Cachot, you've lived in this town for two hundred years, haven't you?" He held the photo up to me as he spoke.
Oddly, I knew it was me in the photo, but didn't remember where or when it was taken. Two hundred years of memories is a lot to retain.
"You haven't aged much since this photo, have you?" He asked, already knowing the answer. "Thirty years here and your body hasn't changed, your hair hasn't grayed and you've never been sick."
I sat down in my cell, waiting to hear his next analytical point. He figured out my immortality by doing what no one else did: by paying attention.
"In 15 years, I've become gray and winkled. My body has slowed. Yet, you remain as you were on the day you arrived."
Jacob handed me a different photo.
"Ah yes," I mused. "My prison intake photo. I was just a handsome 23 year old lad in that one. Time has treated me well."
"Time hasnt touched you," he quickly retorted. "You're in here for your life, which means you'll be here forever, won't you?"
My head dropped into my hands as the word "forever" hung in the air. I'll never leave. Unless I escape, I'll never be anything but a man caged for eternity.
"You're right," I said. "No sense in hiding it at this point."
"Well. . ." Jacob paused, now leaning on a wall. His eyes now fixed firmly at the ceiling.
"Well, what?" I asked.
"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," he said.
And then he walked away. | It's been a while seeing these grey walls. About 45 years. Or maybe it has been fifty. I can't recall. I was sentenced for a lifetime here since I was on a killing spree back in the days. I was sort of a Robin Hood you see, killing criminals just like me. I actually call myself Charlie Catastrophe if you ever wonder if I have a name for myself. Back to the story, I've killed rapists, petty thieves, hired killers, drug lords (which is my favorite since they say that they cause poverty in this city), and a former politician. I remembered during my killing spree that I've killed about thirty criminals in total within a week and half. Maybe an additional thirty for colateral damage. Maybe more. I lost count for seeing these blank walls all the time. I started this madness since my father was killed when I was a teenager. He was accused of -- I can't remember. I think he was accused of selling drugs or raping a non-existent girl or that he's a member of a notorious gang or maybe all of it. Some say that a government official orderd his death. I can't really recall. These walls really makes my memory blank. All I can remember is the day I got caught.
It was a perfect sunny day so I went for a cup of coffee. Of course I brought my .45 caliber that I always use and a swiss knife of sorts for unexpected occasions. I also brought yesterday's newspaper for, you know, being less suspicious since it headlined "Fifty killed within a week". I was drinking my daily coffee at my favorite café when I heard that there will be a rally in favor of this corrupt official at the city plaza. I think he was the one that caused my father's death. This is the moment I've been waiting for. I went there quickly and to my surprise, he was looking for volunteers to ask him a question. I quickly ran up to the stage and luckily, I was picked to ask the question. I said to the mic, "Why?" and then I shot him in his chest. I come up close to him to stab him and he said that I will rot in jail for what I have done. The police came and you know what happened next.
I've told this to countless inmates and prison guards whenever I had the chance to tell them my inspiring story. Not countless but maybe around a hundred in total. Sometimes I hear the guards telling that maybe death penalty should be implemented for psychos like me. I guess I have to wait a little longer.
And here I am, still in jail. Thanks to my lovely city for not having death penalty. You know what I learned from the story? Corrupt politicians always lie, even in their last breath.
I guess it's also a lie that I'll rot in jail.
--
*Sorry if it's not in the guards' perspective*
EDIT: minor change to typos and some parallelism | 2016-10-15T09:27:27 | 2016-10-15T08:27:16 | 73 | 14 |
[WP] A child is born with a functioning Appendix, the first ever recorded in history and the purpose it serves shocks the scientific community/world.
This is my first writing prompt submission! Amazing response, can't wait to read your stories, thanks people.
~~~~~ Shout out to Montreal ~~~~~
Edit: getting a lot of grief from people saying "the appendix has a function", try this on for size:
http://www.webmd.com/digestive-disorders/picture-of-the-appendix
"The function of the appendix is unknown. One theory is that the appendix acts as a storehouse for good bacteria, “rebooting” the digestive system after diarrheal illnesses. Other experts believe the appendix is just a useless remnant from our evolutionary past. Surgical removal of the appendix causes no observable health problems." | I nibbled on my lettuce as they stuck a pin in me yet again, muttering to themselves in awe as the wound sealed up instantly. Most of them had seen me an inch from death only a week before, right when my appendix had apparently kicked in to help.
"And just look at the *size* of it," the one scientist, called Steve, said yet again, scribbling something down in excitement as he stared at the x-ray. My appendix was monstrous, having somehow swallowed my intestines days ago. It was creeping up on my stomach now.
"Look, I feel fine," I sighed. "Can I, like, go home now?"
"No you cannot, Sophie," one of the others snapped, looking anxious. Probably worried I'd kick the bucket before he could complete his next thesis.
"You're missing vital organs, you've got a mysterious expanding appendix and astonishing healing abilities, you're living off lettuce alone and somehow you're still alive. I wouldn't trust that last bit to somehow continue for long."
I felt wonderful, though. It was the lettuce, they said. Of course, I could've told them that without their fancy tests. All the websites had promised results from only eating lettuce. There was even a forum about it. Now, every time I ate some, I healed rapidly from everything they tried on me. They'd progressed from pinpricks on my fingers this morning to cutting my wrist open this afternoon. They'd probably try to chop my arm off tomorrow, I could see them wetting themselves every time my skin knit itself up in a few seconds.
Weight loss wasn't one of the things the lettuce had accomplished, I noted. The damned appendix would probably keep expanding until I was *twice* as big of a cow as I was now. I'd trade the silly healing for some weight loss any day. It's not as if there were people chasing me and dragging knives across my arteries, waiting in vain for me to bleed out, on an ordinary day. Just weird scientists. What use was that?
I felt something lurch upward in my body, and was stricken with a wave of hunger. I shoved another lettuce down my throat, forgetting that I'd promised not to do that unless supervised. And forgetting that shoving any food down my throat like that was totally gross. I was just so *hungry*.
___
"Oh god," Steve said as the crowd of scientists rushed to Sophie's room, along with the hospital's entire team of nurses and doctors.
"She just...exploded," one nurse said shakily, looking nauseated as she prodded the girl's remains.
"Well, the appendix has been known to do that," a doctor said helpfully.
"I thought the healing would kind of take care of that scenario," Steve said miserably. "Guess not..."
"But we didn't discover anything useful except for the healing abilities! The media's going to have a field day! What variables led to the situation?" his colleague, Chris, said anxiously. "The anorexia? The lettuce? The near-death situation? We can't possibly recreate this! What'll we do, send out questionnaires to root out all the mentally ill vegan girls living off lettuce? Oh yeah, that'll go down swimmingly with the ethics committee."
"Give it a rest, Chris, I can still analyse the appendix and try to see what-"
"*You* will? Excuse me, who dragged you away from your tedious skin cancer research to come look at a medical mystery?"
"Uh, look, maybe we should call the girl's family?" the nurse interrupted. "It's just, we kind of need this bed..."
They all fell silent as the bits of organs on the bed suddenly started emitting a faint green light. Steve gaped as one bit began moving on its own, inching determinedly toward the other pieces until it reattached itself.
"We might not need to recreate anything, if our test subject returns from the fucking dead," Steve said faintly. "Go get some more lettuce."
**Parts two and three added in a separate comment**
| "I see things", the child hissed, just four years old. Doctor Avanto had kept a close eye on the boy since the day he was born, warning the parents that the malformed appendix might cause issues in the future.
"What kind of issues?" they had asked, and he had shrugged. The appendix was a tricky thing, serving no apparent purpose yet causing a plethora of difficulties and annoyances. "Let's remove it now," they insisted but he vehemently refused. Nobody had ever had a functioning appendix yet here was one that seemed to be doing... something. When he ran ultrasounds and x-rays, there was far more activity than would be expected, and by his first birthday, the child was complaining of constant headaches. Doctor Avanto had directed the parents to give him more sun and then to keep him out of the sun and to pamper him and then to ignore him, biding his time until the boy could talk.
The boy's first words were dark and ominous and the parents had desperately thrown out their television and cut him off from talking to other people, perplexed as to where he had learnt such things. Only Doctor Avanto was permitted to speak to him, and the boy showed up for hours on end of therapy each day.
"What kinds of things?" Doctor Avanto asked, thrilled at what could prove to be a breakthrough. The child shook his head and trembled, sweat dripping down his face, eyes wide with terror.
"See-through people and monsters. They tell me they're coming. They say the time has come," the boy screamed desperately, the insulated walls of the office preventing any noise from escaping. *The fourth dimension*, Doctor Avanto thought to himself, and the drawings he asked the boy to make convinced him of it. He drew demons and ghosts identical to the ones in the prophetic books; readings he had surely never seen, yet here were the same images.
He consulted the other doctors; old men who had seen tens of thousands of cases and spent their entire lives studying medicine. He spoke to physicists and scientists of all sorts who denied that what he was describing was possible. "I swear it," he said, yet had no way to prove it. "The appendix serves to look into the fourth dimension."
They opted to remove the appendix, putting it in a controlled chamber hooked up to machines that pumped blood into it to keep it alive. Free of its bodily prison, the appendix twitched and shook as if it had a life of its own, and when it finally ruptured, as they all did, the fourth dimension poured forth and the doctors and scientists screamed as the demons and ghosts wreaked havoc on the world. *I should have removed the damn thing on day one*, Doctor Avanto thought to himself as a werewolf ripped through his living room and a demon tore his door off its hinges and prepared to devour him.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2016-01-07T08:34:37 | 2016-01-07T08:03:51 | 425 | 33 |
[WP] We live in a simulation, and we sleep because they can't render everyone at once. You stay up for days, and begin to see things and people. They call themselves the maintenance crew. | Awake. I must stay awake. I’m writing down everything I see right now and I’m scared to stop. If I stop I’ll fall asleep. If I fall asleep I have no idea what these creatures will do to me. This may sound stupid but I know what they look like. I recognize them. We thought we knew what they were. We called them angels, winged messengers of healing and care. Well they are certainly bright and… I’m getting ahead of myself. If I’m going to be writing this down, I’m going to start from the beginning.
It took me two nights without sleep to realize the world was simply a simulation. That’s when I noticed the first stutter. A flickering of light on the walls surrounding me. 48 hours without rest had opened my eyes to the lack of reality around me. I had to keep staying awake. I researched online, 50 hours without sleep and your body begins to microsleep automatically. 70 and you risk going in to a coma with your bodies attempt to recover itself. But I knew more. Reality is an illusion. This world is a simulation, and my sleep deprived brain made the automatic leap that something or someone must have created that simulation.
58 hours without rest now and the longer I stare at the creatures the more my eyes seem to drink in. The way they move, these are obviously not the creators… possibly maintainers of some sort? They move with purpose bathed in an ethereal white light. One of them has noticed me staring at them. He? No she is walking towards me. She is addressing me by my name… how on earth does she know who I am? She wants me to stop writing and get some rest. But I can’t, if I sleep I know I’ll stop seeing the truth. I tell her as much and she is frowning and insisting I get some rest. I tell her I know the truth about this place and she cannot keep it from me. She seems shocked at my yelling, how on this simulated Earth did she expect me to act? She’s walking away now, thank goodness.
She’s back and brought two other maintainers with her. They are holding a device of some sort. She is explaining that this device with give me the rest I deserve. That I deserve? These creatures want to harm me! They're coming towards me now…
_____________________________________________________
“Nurse inform Dr Anders that Kyle needed to be medicated in order to sleep tonight. He was writing like a mad man on his phone and two orderlies had to assist me in order to deliver the medication.” Nurse Myers walked into the patient’s room and gave the lightbulb his bed a slight twist, the flickering down lamp above him turned into a steady beam, which she soon shut off now that the room’s sole occupant was asleep. The orderlies were chuckling about the young man’s raving about wings. Myers left the room without seeing a single feather fall to the ground.
**Edit:** Cleaning up some grammar/spelling.
| It was an experiment for high school. Modelling after Randy Gardner, I would see the affects of sleep deprivation without stimulants for one week. My father, a neurologist, would help me monitor my neural activity 24 hours each day while my project partner (and girlfriend) Natasha would monitor my every movements: physical activity, food consumption, and especially mental capabilities through a series of basic tests. After a one week trial period, I was ready.
-David
DAY 1: I am beginning to feel the effects of sleep deprivation: slurred speech, reduced hand-eye coordination, lack of appetite. It has been difficult to focus on work for more than a half-hour and my brain activity has reduced somewhat. I have dosed off at least three times today, each for a period of less than three minutes. My physical activity has decreased, and the test scores show a reduced score from the control.
-David
DAY 3: The hallucinations have increased. I see people walking around where Natasha and my dad do not. However, my physical activity has begun to return to normalcy; so has my physical abilities. Although it is tough to concentrate, I do not feel physically inhibited. I was even able to beat Natasha at ping-pong. I dozed off at least a dozen times, each for less than one minute.
-David
DAY 7: The maintenance crew. That's what these people call themselves. They can't be hallucinations. They seemed so...real. The exhaustion has become overwhelming. Although I am able to go about my regular day, I have dozed off at least 2 dozen times, each for about 5 minutes. I have reduced short-term memory and have struggled with basic mathematics and visual problems. However, these men, whomever they are, are real. *Scientia Et Veritas*
-David
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part 2 coming in about ~~3 hours-ish~~ a day sorry lol | 2017-10-29T11:01:49 | 2017-10-29T09:47:40 | 565 | 114 |
[WP] For years Earth cried out to an empty cosmos, searching the stars for echoes of life. From the middle of nowhere, a reply finally comes: "Shut up, and Play Dead!"
I really struggled with the choice between "For Years", "For Decades", "For Centuries", and "For Millenia". I tapped out. Take whatever timeline you will.
This may or may not be an attempt to add cosmic significance to Red Green's "Quando Omni Flunkus Moritati".
Good Luck!
Edit: There are a LOT of good submissions here, thank you all so much! Speaking of excellent submissions, I'd like to plug u/Mrcreation for doing some very well written, lengthy work near the bottom of the thread. Scroll down and check out his multipost entry!
Edit 2: I just finished the first two books of the Three Body Problem, by Liu Cixin. Mind=Blown. A part of the series definitely shares similar themes to this prompt, but there is so much more! I highly reccomend it. | "How do we know it's not a transmitter bolted to the earth?"
"It bears all the hallmarks of non-terrestrial non-solar system origin. We've confirmed that the signal is coming from one spot in the sky moving at the same rate as the stars."
"And the communication medium?"
"Pictorial, Sir. It seems to be modeled on the [Arecibo Message](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/55/Arecibo_message_bw.svg/2000px-Arecibo_message_bw.svg.png)"
"Send it to me."
He opened the [attachment](http://imgur.com/vOWEsQN).
"Do the astrolinguists have a theory yet?"
"They do, Sir. The sign on top is similar to a stop sign, it was one of the symbols kept in on one of the later Voyagers. Regarding the middle one there are differences of opinion. But most have concluded that the intelligent species communicates with each other via sound, and they understand its properties as a wave. Finally, in the Arecibo we sent them a human form- so that represents our species. The cross next to it is a negation."
"Okay.. so what does it say?"
His IM beeped.
"[End]. [Communication].[<Ambiguous Connective>]. [Negative]. [Bipedal]."
"English?"
"Best guess - 'Stop communicating or your species dies.'"
"In other words we are to shut up and play dead, pretend to be alone in this universe for the sake of our own preservation?"
"That's right, Mr Chairman."
"This is interesting. Transmissions from something as close as the Kepler 452b couldn't reach us at out levels of technology. Yet they've not only intercepted our faint signals but also been able to give back an intelligible reply. And that too to warn us. What an amicable, peace-loving species. They must be really afraid of something out there. Sounds like someone's in need of a *humanitarian intervention*."
The chairman pauses.
"Tell the astrolinguists to compose a reply."
He types and sends it in to be converted into bytes and pictograms.
*Fear not. Whatever it is that you're afraid of, we will find it and we will destroy it. Love, Humanity.*
"Is this it, Sir?"
"Yes, any problems?"
"No, Sir- none at all."
"Good. Now call up the presidents. It seems we might've finally found some use for the four thousand redundant nukes on this planet."
-----
^If ^you ^like ^suspense, ^check ^out ^/r/CaffeinatedWriter ^for ^an ^ongoing ^story.
| Not sure if any of it makes sense grammatically or otherwise.
The message arrived in binary. Few even tried to understand how 'they' had managed this but they had and now they had sent their cryptic code.
'shut up and play dead'
If only the greats of astronomy had been there when the message was decoded in the labs that day: could Galileo ever have possibly imagined that he had guided humanity towards this absurd moment; could Copernicus have fathomed that hundreds of years of exploration of the concept of space could amount to the instructions given a pet?
'shut up and play dead'
Transmission of a message into space is not a simple matter. To ensure a cohesive, coherent message arrives at the intended destination, the message must be repeated countless times and amplified so as to project over vast distances which can cause a degree of 'echo' that must be corrected for at the receiver's end. These technicalities meant that our first words received presumably from another sentient species weren't
'shut up and play dead'
they were
'shut up shut up ut up up up shut shut shut up up shut shut ut up and play play and play and play and play and play play dead dead dead dea dead dea de dea dead'
This transmission was received over the space of roughly a week as cosmic echo had dispersed the emission frequency so it was with understandable relief that researchers received the second half of the message beginning with 'and.'
Still the message seemed to confirm what many humans suspected for a very long time - that what humanity stood for was loud, abrasive, piercing yells into what was presumed empty space until those occupying that space could no longer pretend we didn't exist.
Edit; Grammar
| 2016-03-27T08:44:25 | 2016-03-27T08:43:42 | 215 | 14 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | I blew out the candles, and poof! I was gone. Just like I was told, there I was, in this room, alone. Just me, and a table, and way too much food.
In the centre was a roast terducken, you know them, a chicken in a duck in a turkey. A friend told me that he had taken a bite of the turkey, and had gotten stronger. Another had taken some duck, and they could fly. Another took the chicken, and they could see through the ground - because apparently that is a thing. To the left was an apple pie. I read somewhere that eating that made you absurdly good at persuasion. There were berries, and milk tart, and cheesecake, and broccoli and cauliflower, and steak and ham and Brussels sprouts, and goodness knows what else, not even counting the wine and fruit juice.
And I had thought long and hard about this moment. I had decided, as my father had advised, to stuff my face with as much food as possible, like he had, and get as many abilities as possible, but I have a problem: when something gets into my head, we'll heaven help me, I have to do it.
I bit the table.
At first, nothing came of it, I couldn't sink my teeth deep enough, but then, it broke off just like a massive slab of chocolate, and melted away in my mouth. For about sixty seconds I was in heaven, the feeling unbearably good, and then, I was back at home.
"Well? What did you chow on?" my father asked.
"You will know what you have immediately," my mother assured.
I don't know if I answered. I woke up on the couch. Apparently, I had passed out, and my birthday party had moved me upstairs, before continuing without me in the backyard. But damn me, I had an urge. An urge to do... Something! Anything! I had to act. I got up, and ran to our dinner table, and bit down. It just broke off, and I ate it. Perhaps, I thought, this was becoming a pattern. Then it hit me what I had done. I had just destroyed my family's table.
I paniced. You can fix stuff with noodles, right? I rushed through to the cupboard, grabbed some noodles, and smacked them onto the table. They seemed to stay, so I used my hands to smooth them out. It didn't look the same color, though, so I grabbed some of my sister's blue nail polish and painted it brown.
"Buddy?" my friend asked, looking perplexed at me. He must have entered sometime between my table munching and my noddle smoothing. "What are you doing?"
"I'm, uh, eating noodles," I lied, grabbing some hard noodles from beside me and slurping it up, slapping myself in the face in the process.
They stood critically at the door. "Dude, what did you eat?"
"I think I best not say."
My friend rolled their eyes. "I just watched you turn blue nail polish and noddles into the part of the table you ate. What did you eat?"
"The table..."
"Yeah, I know you ate the table, and then you fixed it with noodles, but what did you eat? Like, in the magic room?"
"The table."
My friend face-palmed harder than I'd ever seen anyone facepalm. "I'm a make a wild guess; you ate a piece of the table itself on a whim, and now have the power that any random crap you do on a whim works!"
I pursed my lips.
"So, uh," my friend said, "My birthday is next month. What do I eat when I get there?"
I grinned from ear to ear. "The wine glass. Eat the wine glass."
...
For more, see r/sarcastic_rambler | "You took a bite out of what!" Your mom yelled when she found out. "I thought I raised you better than that!. . ."
"Mo. . ." You tried in vain
"You could have had super strength by eating the spinach or flight with pork. But noooo you had to be a smart ass and bite the damn table. Should have known you would end up doing something stupid like your father. And take a bite out of the Gimpy Gimpy. Made him kill himself before he even figured out his power."
"Mom! I know my power"
"You better tell me it's growing trees. God knows this planet needs it right now with all the pyros out there right now who ate the hottest pepper they could stand."
"Uhhh yeah about that."
"That's it good at least you will be some use unlike your father who left me alone to finish highschool alone with you."
"No, it's not that. . . You are not going to like it."
"Out with it."
"Well you see I've gotten the power well it's better that I don't tell you"
"You better tell me otherwise I'm going to kick you out of the house!"
"Mom please for once just listen! here there are two numbers the first one is for my new cellphone the second is for a therap. . ."
"A what! I don't need one of those good for nothing. . ."
"MOM, please you need to see this woman. I want things to go back to how they used to be when I was a child."
"I don't need help I need you to be a better son! Answer my question!"
Tears formed in my eyes as a solution formed in my mind. I started backing towards the front door.
"What are you going to do leave me like your dad did! Good I don't want you around anymore"
"Mom. You don't mean that. I love you but I have to go things will get. . ."
"Get out!"
Tears were flowing from her eyes at this point and from experience I knew there was no calming her down. I clamped down on my own urge to yell back something that would hurt her. I knew better now.
"Please just call that number we can talk again when things get. . ."
"Out!" She yelled while reaching for something to throw at me.
I ducked and was out the door tears flooding from my eyes. I already knew she would get better she would call the number and our relationship would get repaired. Didn't make it any easier to do this. But I had to leave her. I had the power now to see and fix clinically stupid. I needed to hone this ability for the good of the people and I needed to start with a one way ticket to Florida.
Edit: a word. | 2020-03-19T08:52:26 | 2020-03-19T08:15:56 | 463 | 330 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear Me,
I miss you. I miss the way you used to be. You used to care. You used to try your hardest. Now all you do is say, I'll do it later. I can see that you're struggling. Yet, you have more friends than you ever did, and you know what you want to do with your life.
But still, when it comes to day-to-day stuff, you don't care anymore. You still show up on class on time, but you do your assignments in class the day it's due, or stay up all night finishing that huge end-of-term assignment. Your car has bald tires, because you can't be bothered to get new ones. You have dozens of personal projects you started ages ago, then lost all motivation to complete. And you've shaved twice in the past month.
All you do now is spend your time browsing Reddit, reading the news, and watching YouTube videos. It's like you've given up. Yet, when you actually have a _purpose_ to keep trying, I've seen you move mountains. I've seen you learn to become a proficient programmer from almost nothing in two months, and be better than the other guy at work who's been doing it for ten years. I've seen you try. Sometimes you failed, but just as often you succeeded spectacularly. Now, all you CAN do is fail, because you can't succeed if you don't try.
It doesn't make sense. You are somewhat intelligent, but squander it on useless nonsense. _Who cares_ what somebody on the Web has to say? I don't care, so why do you? It literally has no bearing on your life. Why do you keep watching random YouTube videos about stuff you're never going to even try because you're sitting there watching YouTube videos?
Maybe all you need is a real challenge. Something that you truly care about. After all, it's hard to care about deadlines and challenges you're set when you know they're completely artificial and arbitrary. But you KNOW that completing post-secondary school is important, and critical to you finding a good job. But you still don't care. Deep down, I know you care, but you need to care _now_, not later.
I remember how you used to race to complete everything you were set so that you could hand it in early. I remember how you used to start something and actually FINISH IT. Now you get three chapters into a book, set it down, and never pick it back up. I remember how you used to sign 15 novels out of the library, and finish them all before the week was up.
Please come back.
I miss you dearly,
Your Future Self | Dear Dani,
After everything that happened I continue to see you everywhere I go. Whether it's bringing up the past or driving through town and seeing a car just like yours or in my dreams sometimes I can't escape you. And I always think about what exactly it is I will do when I see you again. I want to scream at you or just flat out ignore you. There are so many options and I have ran each one through my head multiple times. In the end I know though it will be none of those things. As usual I will just forgive you and allow you to hurt me again. Because as much as I keep telling myself that you hurt me for the last time and I need to shake you off I just cant shake the fact that I miss you.
I miss your contagious laugh and smile. I miss the times we hung out and talked for hours. I miss not being judged and just having fun with you. You were so beautiful. I had people tell me you weren't that pretty but they were wrong. You were the most beautiful girl I had met at the time. In the end they were right though. After what happened I need to remind myself that you aren't. I don't miss how you made me feel. I don't miss the times you avoided talking to me or not showing up to places we were supposed to hang out. The last time we had seen each other was one of the greatest nights of my life and as much as I know deep down there is a part of me that misses you and would love to see you again.
I hope to God I don't. | 2017-11-05T22:02:16 | 2017-11-05T19:53:10 | 1,095 | 95 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | The energy in the air was so thick I could feel it. Pressing down on me and making everything feel heavier.
I smirked at the muscular man, hovering in front of me.
“So your number two huh?”
He flew a few metres higher and looked down at me.
“No, I am number one, and soon enough everyone else will know it too.”
I laughed.
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Well I mean it.”
“I’ve heard that before as well.”
He clenched his fists and the energy surrounding me became even heavier.
“Enough, let’s do this. “
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
“Hold on a minute. Just let me ask you something.”
I lit one inhaled, and then pulled out my hip flask and took a drink.
“Do you know why I drink and smoke so much?”
He didn’t answer.
“No? How about why I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months?”
Again he didn’t answer, but he was obviously wondering the reason.
“Still no? What about how dirty my clothes are, or why my hair’s greasy, or beard is just messy? Any ideas?”
He flew down a bit, so we were almost facing each other.
“Why?”
“It’s because I’m number one. It’s as simple as that.”
I took another sip from the hip flask.
“Do you think you’re the first to attack me today? Cause you’re the sixteenth.”
He actually looked shocked, he obviously thought no one but him was brave enough to challenge me.
“I can’t go a day without being harassed by people like you in the dozens. I can’t go a night without someone breaking into my house and trying to kill me in my sleep. I can’t go to the laundrettes, I can’t go shopping for new clothes. I can’t finish
shaving, I can’t take a shower for more than three minutes. I don’t even have enough time to wipe my own arse!”
He couldn’t speak, he looked like he’d forgotten how.
“So you know what? Go ahead and kill me, please!”
I walked towards him and grabbed him by the collar.
“You kill me and then you can take all of my problems away as well. Is that what you want?”
He stopped flying and stared at me for a while.
I let go of him, and he looked to the ground.
“No.”
“Yeah I thought as much. You idiots with your ranking, you think a number is all that matters.”
I paused and let it sink in for a while.
“Do yourself a favour, find something better do. Anyway I’ve gotta get going, I have somewhere to be. Probably gotta explain this to six more of you before I get there.”
I lit another cigarette.
“Wait. Before you go, will you tell me what your power is. I’ll keep it a secret I swear.”
I turned and started walking.
“Who knows? If I ever find out I’ll tell you.”
I heard him fly away and I started to laugh.
“That’s one less moron to worry about. All thanks to the power of depression.”
| Hi, I'm going to tell my little story here rather quickly as I am rushed for time. Being #1 makes a lot of folks very interested in killing me, so I have to constantly remain on edge.
If there were no ranking systems, most people would assume that I have absolutely no powers. My power is a much more subtle one. But enough tension building, I'll just tell you what it is right now. I have the power of deception.
Seems pretty lame compared to some of the other powers around here -- rank #2 has laser vision for Christ's sake -- but it definitely has its uses. I can make anyone believe or do anything I want. For example, today I convinced a man with acid breath to kill himself. Needless to say, that was a pretty dark moment for me, but I've done worse.
I like to think I'm a pretty charming guy. It helps me manipulate people when I need to. My girlfriend is rank #4 in the city and rank #1 for females. She sadly has the power to crush a man's soul. Ok that's not entirely true, but she does have supersonic speed. I hope you don't think that I accidentally fell in love with the most powerful woman in the city, I planned it. She is entirely convinced that I love her and that really comes to my advantage. She'll do absolutely anything for me, and that can really come in handy for someone as targeted as me in this city. In a way I guess I do love her. I love that she will do simple things for me like robbing a bank. And I especially love the complex things: like murdering her powerful, high ranking family for me. The poor girl can't help but to be infatuated with me -- literally.
Anyways, thats the gist of how I became #1 here. Call me an asshole if you want, but that's the type of personality you have to have to remain on top. It's survival of the fittest, baby. The strong survive and the weak die.
| 2014-12-18T15:13:47 | 2014-12-18T13:12:49 | 35 | 18 |
[WP] When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the toss correctly, you are allowed to keep living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You've been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pretty pissed. | "Have you ever considered, you know, doing something with your lives Seamus?" Death sat next to me in the pub, taking a swig of his pint.
"What do you mean!? I've finally perfected the brew, can't you taste how amazing this is? I have it on good authority that it's the best in the universe!"
"Seamus, you perfected this brew well over a century ago. Yes, it's the best beer in history, but surely there's still more you can do. I mean, it's gotta be divine intervention right? Nobody is supposed to win the coin toss. 235 fucking times Seamus. That's how many in a fucking row that you've won. Don't you think maybe you're genuinely mean to be doing something with all this time instead of sitting here getting blitzed? You don't even get any fucking customers out in the goddamn middle of nowhere except Joe in the corner there!"
At the mention of his name, the little old white bearded man in the corner roused himself just enough to look up from his half gone pint for a moment, mutter something unintelligible, and then seemingly go back to sleep.
Seamus, glanced over at Joe "Oi, don't be knocking Joe. He's been my loyal customer for years now, and he knows the true value of my brew."
Death had stopped all the theatrics centuries ago. He showed up in the modern dress of Ireland these days. Neither he nor Seamus could fake an accent to save their lives, but may as well blend in. He had last been at the pub 80 years ago when it was new, and 95 years before that at the tavern in Britain. Always whenever he came to visit "Seamus" was in his personal drinking establishment, serving up his same brew. Nothing ever changed with him, not even the result of the coin toss.
Death swigged down the last of the pint, it really was beyond compare. He'd been all over the world, through all the years, and he'd still never had a brew as good. Seamus was right, he really had perfected it.
"Welp, I got work to do, you know the rules, you get to call it, I get to flip it."
Seamus gargled "heads" through a sip of his drink.
Death used to think he was cheating. He knew it wasn't possible, but still, death couldn't figure out how to recreate that beer, so maybe Seamus had other secrets. Even so, it never mattered what Seamus called. Death tossed the coin in every way he possibly knew. It always came up in Seamus' favor. So this time was no surprise either. The coin landed, death swiped it up, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door.
"92 years, 84 days, 8 hours. I'll see you then."
"Oh aye laddy. Sounds grand. I'll have your drink waiting for you." Seamus said in his awful fake accent.
After death had left, Seamus went over to sit with his only other patron. The only patron he would ever need for all time.
"Thanks again Joe, guess I get to keep on brewing for you for another 92 years!"
Jehova looked up from his beer with a big smile.
"It really is the best in the universe!"
Edit:
Jesus! that blew up pretty thoroughly! I really appreciate all the compliments. Makes me feel good about taking the time to write it! | "Oh *good, you* again."
Death is meant to be an imposing figure. They look different for each person, for the culture you come from, for what represents your fears. I was never very imaginative, though, so I always thought of it as a skeleton in a cloak. Pretty scary the first time, but you'd expect them to change it up after death 400.
"You know, statistically, you're only supposed to get like, one extra shot? Two if you're lucky?"
"Yeah, yeah, chill, Reaper. I think this is my last time checking in."
Death presents the coin, as they have so many times before, and lays it on the stark white table in the center of the room. Though it's less like a room, and more like a void with walls.
"You know how this works, Quinn."
I take the coin, and flip it. I catch it midair, and discretely brush my thumb over it.
"Heads."
Tails.
"Aww, darn. I guess my luck had to run out sometime, huh?"
I feign ignorance. After all this time, 400 visits, 400 times I've fooled Death, I can't help but play with them a little more.
"...Why?"
You wouldn't expect something called The Grim Reaper to ever look this confused.
"Why? I know you're doing something here. Of course I've known. Why, after so long, do you choose to fail? To die?"
"...It gets boring. I've already done everything. That's the truth."
I start walking towards the newly-opened gate, the one thing I have never seen in all my visits. I start thinking about the places I've been, things I've done, and it all seems minuscule compared to the endless black beyond. I start crying.
"And... Quinn... How?"
Such an extraordinary set of lives feels trumped by this one moment. The Grim Reaper, Death, is asking me a question, taking an interest, and there they stand, the one throughline in all my existences. My only friend that mattered.
"Don't you know?"
I turn back, just for a moment, tears still streaming down my face, just before I step through the gate. Despite the tears, I am happy. I am satisfied.
"The coin's bumpy on one side." | 2016-09-23T09:14:52 | 2016-09-23T08:59:37 | 2,418 | 27 |
[WP] After chatting with your online Korean friend, who you often game with, he invites you to visit him in his home country, which he always refers to as "Best Korea". You think he's joking around, but when you get a flight confirmation, you learn that your friend is actually Kim Jong-un. | "Last one at A-Site!" my friend called out -- it was down to me to clutch the round and defuse the bomb to secure the win. The score was almost even tied 15-14, I was thinking it would be terrible to settle for a tie after such a long game.
"You hear him step! He's at Quad!" My focus returned, I tightened my grip on the mouse, and swung in the direction. I inched closer with the red shipping container by my side. Quickly baiting the defuse, I popped off a clean kill and stuck the defuse. The bomb ticked down to the very last second.
"No way, awesome ~ awesome! Nice, very smart!" I swung my knife around in-game basking in the worship by my friend.
I spoke up breaking my silence, "Haha wow that was really tense, I'm sweating."
"I thought I was only one, our teammates are very bad." He further confirmed what I was thinking.
"Well dude, that does it for me. I'm getting off while we're still on a winning streak."
"That's fair, I'll meet you online tomorrow I have surprise!" he responded in a casual tone.
"Sounds good dude, peace!" I'd spoken as I seemingly rushed out of the voice-channel.
I stood up while both yawning and stretching. I had just played back-to-back matches winning each one.
"What a day!" I said to myself as I stumbled into bed. Feeling pretty satisfied it was pretty easy to drift asleep.
I heard the morning birds, and I naturally woke up without a formal clock. I cooked breakfast, something to get my day started. And I felt a vibration coming from my pocket.
I pulled out my phone and saw an email reading, "Flight Plan Confirmination." I expected it to be some sort of spam. Right at the same time "Steam Chat" notification popped up.
"~ Lightning: Did you get email?"
"Honor: Was that you? Why did you buy me a plane ticket?"
"~ Lightning: It's the surprise! I have bought ticket so you can come visit."
"Honor: Wow haha, dude you're crazy. But I might be crazier to actually consider this."
"~ Lightning: Money is no issue, my family pass down inheritance."
"Honor: I'll take your word for it."
"~ Lightning: So I'll see you soon?"
"Honor: Yea, dude LAN party!"
"~ Lightning: I have few other people coming too, very fun!"
"Honor: When is the flight exactly?" I asked anyway, then just clicking on the email notification.
"~ Lightning: Thirty minutes from now." I almost spit my coffee when realizing how sudden everything was happening.
I packed a few things and rushed to my local airport.
"Honor?" A flight attendant asked as I entered through the front entrance.
"Uhh... yes?" I answered unexpectedly.
"Right this way sir." she voiced as she motioned a direction.
Two other gentleman pulled up behind me and grabbed my rolling suitcase.
"You must be very important to know Mr. Park."
"I guess." I let out a little chuckle. I figured this must be "Lightning's" real name.
I turned a corner and expected to see some sort of check-in desk, but was met with a door that led outside to a very expensive looking jet.
I immediately spoke up, "Don't you guys need to see my passport?"
She responded very delicately, "Mr. Park likes to do things a little privately."
I gulped and boarded the jet, essentially passing every piece of security. The plane was very empty with leather seating, everything looked exquisite. I took a seat and opened up the plane confirmation email to find any details I missed.
"[REDACTED] flying to South Korea, Seoul. 9:30 AM flight." I re-read as I tried to release any doubts.
The flight didn't feel that long, I shortly landed to a beautiful view that led to a huge airstrip. After landing, the pilot stepped outside the cockpit.
"Sir, welcome to North Korea." He popped the door open, releasing the stairs.
"North Korea?! I think there is some sort of mistake.."
He interrupted, "Mr. Park is a very private man, well, at-least on paper."
I got up and walked toward the door frame, with the sunlight directly blinding me. When I reached the bottom of the steps, I had finally adapted to the light and noticed the crowd in front of me. A man in a plain-black trench coat with what looked like a military escort around him.
"Honor!!! Welcome to my country!" I stepped out and saw Kim Jong-un staring at me.
Time felt distorted, I froze for what felt like minutes.
"Honor?!" He said breaking my daze.
"Lightning?"
"Yes, yes, very good to see you!"
I started thinking about the last few years, all the moments that led up to this exact day. I knew Lightning was Korean, he had told me multiple times. I had just assumed South Korean, I never really asked. Have I really been talking to Kim Jong-un this entire time?
"Come this way, it's time." His words echoed in my head. "We can't keep everyone waiting." Who would be waiting? I need to run.
My legs wouldn't move, cold sweats started to form around my shoulders.
"Sir!" A guard moved up taking my luggage from the pilot by my side.
I didn't know what to do. I did what they said. I followed. Eight - no, twelve - fully armed guards around me, leading me into a distant warehouse.
My knees started to feel weak as we entered through a small entrance that led to a darkened room.
"Surprise!" Kim Jong-un cheered running up to the front of the escort line.
The room opened up to hundreds of tables with computers on them, each with a perfected space between the other. Several people taking up at-least half of the room.
"This is..!" I must have muttered out loud.
"Exactly! I invited professional player from all over the world!"
We immediately got down to business sitting and playing for what felt likes hours, it was so much fun. We played captain-mode with banning and picking -- was a fantastic time even though I didn't win a single game against the pros.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
^^^^Bet ^^^^you ^^^^all ^^^^thought ^^^^this ^^^^was ^^^^going ^^^^to ^^^^be ^^^^a ^^^^dark ^^^^story.. ^^^^:| | I met Kim 2 years ago on a MOBA game, we were new and both sucked at it, but kept going on anyway. I played for hours everyday with him because I was bored and alone and I felt he was the same. My Korean parents were strict but doted on my younger brother over me. He was the successful child brimming with potential and I was just addicted to video games in my parents' eyes. I hated this. I hated all of them. Kim told me if I bored in high school in the US, I wouldn't be able to imagine how bored he was in his country and that I should come visit.
Eventually as SAT prep began to takeover my life I played less and less video games as my parents started pressuring me to at least be a good example for my younger brother. Kim then suggested we spice things up and we become pen pals since I couldn't play as much anymore. I received a bunch of postcards from various countries from Kim with silly messages, it really cheered me up. I managed to finally mail him a birthday card, addressing it to a South Korean village. He must have travelled a lot in the past I thought to myself. I realized that knew nothing much about Kim that could identify him, except his favorite foods and movies. I scribbled something about treasuring our friendship and that he was my best confidant and about how frustrated I was with my family trying make the "American Dream".
A week after I mailed off that card, the postcards stopped flooding my mailbox. I took a break and logged online again for the first time in weeks, Kim, IGN: BestKorea was for once offline. My phone vibrated in my back pocket, a new e-mail. The door simultaneously rang, a large package appeared at the door. I quickly hauled it to my room. Inside was a fine tuxedo, a pair of scissors, and a card. The card read, "put this suit on, tidy your hair, check your e-mail! - signed, BestKorea" I checked my e-mail finally, I had forgotten because of the package! It was an e-mail confirmation of my flight today to Seoul, South Korea complete with a chauffeur service number. It was a Friday, and the flight had a return trip of Sunday morning. My parents were out of town for the weekend with my brother until Sunday afternoon, visiting prestigious colleges, so I thought to myself why not? I trimmed my hair and put on the tuxedo and called the chauffeur. A sleek, black limo arrived promptly in front of my apartment complex. The chauffeur bowed and opened the door, gesturing me in. As I stepped into the vehicle, I could feel my legs go numb. I began to drool slightly, my vision started to blur, and then my mind fell into blackness. I could feel my eyes open, sense my body and perceive pain, but only saw a deep blackness for the longest time.
Eventually, my senses began to materialize again I could make out vaguely in some an unfamiliar, korean sounding dialect being spoken from some distance. "I will reward you. Your brother, will be spared even though he failed and killed my own. Now go." The room became brighter, a luxurious, chateau styled room with old TV screens where windows should have been placed. A breaking news broadcast from America played: somewhere in a Southern California, in a 1 bedroom apartment, a fire had engulfed a Korean-American family. Four blackened bodies were recovered, the last one being identified by some unburnt hair that was miraculously found nearby. "Hello my treasured friend, I am Kim Jong-Un."
Edit: woo somehow I posted in something that would be on the front page next morning. Thank you, for all the up-votes, I usually lurk WPs and I'm a little shy to write (fearing soul-crushing criticism), but glad some of you guys liked it! I won't have time to fix it up, unfortunately. Some references (without references lol):
I can't remember where I read, but the most elite/loyal in North Korea are allowed to travel outside the country, the Seoul location was just a benign mail-forwarding post.
I don't see much excitement about getting a one way trip to Pyongyang so that was the reason for using Seoul as a decoy.
In February 2017, it is assumed that North Korea somehow had North Korean agents that were able to convince travelers to "assault" or as the news called it "assassinate" his half brother. My spin into this story above, was that it was a failure to retrieve his brother from Asia.
The substance I modelled the poison/knockout agent was off of VX gas (low concentration soaked into the suit), it takes up to 60 hours to form an irreversible bond to acetylcholinesterase. I didn't want to get into it, but the only way to keep him alive (possibly) would be to administer 2-PAM slowly as an antidote as they hauled his body over via private jet. Probably some benzos thrown in there for fun too. Thinking about it now, the sensations-without-sight experience may be closer to a botulism toxin overdose case I heard awhile back.
Edit 2: Also good point, as a girl I would definitely fuck up trimming my own hair. My boyfriend trims his own, so that's where I thought tidying up would make sense for a guy. | 2017-04-09T22:15:45 | 2017-04-09T19:18:45 | 167 | 125 |
[WP] When you die, you don't go to the afterlife of you're religion, you go to the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely, knowingly or not. | "What?! NononoNO!" Ronald cried.
He had once again crossed the desert to find himself in a familiar place. A beautiful oasis bracketed by beautiful trees and vines offering cool shade from the warmth of the sun that never burned the skin.
An old man in a light grey robe who probably had never heard the word 'shave' held out his arms after a brief struggle to free them from his endless beard.
"Greetings weary traveller and welcome to the gardens of serenity" he began as he always did,
"Why am I back here again! Do you know what I've done!?" Ronald demanded.
"Oh... Do I know you?.." The greeter asked,
"Yes it's me! again! I demand to be sent to Valhalla immediately this has gone beyond a joke"
"It doesn't work like that" the greeter intoned, mimicking Ronald's previous disposition as a teacher, "you must have worked to reduce suffering or aided others in their search for peace or something, unfortunately you ARE a good person Mr Saveloy"
"I did nothing of the sort" Ronald snapped "three brand new ISIS recruits and about half a dozen mujahedeen using only a breadknife before dying in an explosion, I filled ALL the criteria for a glorious last stand"
The greeter pulled a tome from under his expansive facial hair and opened it to pore over the minute handwriting whilst exhaling. "It did take a lot of patience to *sharpen* that breadknife..." He mused, "and helping others achieve their desired end... PLUS making a positive impact on the world. Are you sure you're trying?"
"Yes!" Ronald exploded, I mean technically that wasn't the last time I died, after that one I followed the terrorists all the way to their paradise before Allah himself cast me to hell for the pork and alcohol I consumed."
"Oh my..." Gasped the greeter "was it bad?"
"I ended up straight back here!" Ronald wailed as he fell to his knees. "There must be something I can do to end this! I don't want to wait another 20 years after reincarnation to join the military and die in a hole, Not again!"
"Again?" The greeter inquired, "How many times have you done this?" He asked as he shuffled through the pages, finally arriving at large yellow bookmark "I might be able to revisit a previous case. 1918, the sommes... You apparently carried injured men from a lost trench?"
"Yeah a few, they were in the way and I wanted to retake the trench"
"12 of them though? Never mind, 1944, you landed during D-day... Bagpipes?"
"And a sword, and bow. Dont forget the bow..."
"Well musical art is quite valued here..."
"It sounds like a cat being murdered!"
The greeter sighed "let's keep looking... Ah! Vietnam. I can't see a reason why you came here after that..."
"Gave a cigarette to a dying man..."
"Seriously? Okay well we'll... Hang on a moment"
The greeter paused to address the queue forming up behind Ronald "please be patient! You'll have to get used to it here sooner or later! Now Ronald... I'm going to do a favour favour for the both of us..."
Ronalds eyes widened expectantly as the greeter tore out the most recent page.
"I'm going to drop my book, and maybe I'll forget where you went. The exit is behind you in that thorn bush... Sorry but we do have to stop people wandering in, anyway you'll appear unharmed in the middle of your crater, there's a corrupt warlord standing over you whom you can fight for your last stand. I've accidentally removed your last death so you shouldn't come back here, just don't do anything nice okay?"
Ronald smiled and bowed before making his way through the surprisingly patient crowd before finding the spiky weed in a corner. He kneeled down and reached out to it to search for a secret hole and succeeded only in stinging his hand.
"Fuck!" He shouted and jumped up... Knocking down a large man in a military uniform.
He caught himself before he apologised, he couldn't do anything nice... He leapt onto this man, the breadknife still in his hand as he struck. The blade much duller than he remembered. Stroke by stroke he cut away this man's life even as the bullets his men fired cut into them. At last neither of their hearts beat and he felt the pleasant release of his physical body. Through his incorporeal ears he heard the soft click as the Pegasus steed of a Valkyrie arrived to take his to a paradise of feasting, drinking and fighting...
OH NO... NOT YOU AGAIN... | "Welcome!" The voice pierced my ears.
"Who... what?"
"Welcome!"
I stood up, brushing myself off. I felt... actually pretty good, which was odd, considering that I-
"I said welcome."
I turned towards the man before me.
"Yes. Yes you did." He said, "Though your narration is quite poor."
He stepped down, "You feel now no more of the Dukkha, yes?"
He was right, I felt better, but had no idea what-
"The Dukkha is suffering, friend. It is the clinging to things. You have let go, and in your final moment, what was it that you said?"
"I don't give a fu-"
"Yes! Right! And just in time your release of those worldly bonds sent you here."
"So Hashtag McYoloswag was right all along?"
"No! You are so young. Dead, but young. Letting go is not easy. We think we let go by using drugs and alcohol, by moderating our time with apps and technology. We are systematically creating a cycle of worldly bonds which attach you to the world. One more drink, so to say. Tomorrow. Another loan. Bills. Payments."
"They're all worldly bonds." I said to myself.
"You didn't really say that to yourself."
"Said what to myself?" I turned.
"No, it was more of a lean, not a turn."
"You are on some level, man. One way above mine." I said, thinking about all of this at once. I tried to put the pieces together, what killed me again?
"A truck."
"What about a truck?"
"You.. were thinking about what killed you." He said.
"How did you know?"
"Because it is like the written word to me. Flowing through the eyes and mind of someone to create a little pretend
stage in their mind where we act. I can see the whole page, though. Not just what's in the little quotes."
"You're crazy." I said, "Then you can predict the future?"
"In a place with no future, there's not much to predict. Though, I think "Zen" is a decent idea, at least."
"It's kinda nice." I said, thinking about home, and all the things that I could have done before I died. There was no
way the mind-reader could possibly know the things I left behind.
"No, I can not." He suddenly said, "Though I could imagine."
I had no idea what he was talking about. "Come again?"
"Sorry, let me at least look ahead to see how this ends..." And he Disappeared.
I was once again alone.
I waited, but then heard a strange voice in my head, "Oh. Still in quotes."
Then he popped back into existence. "-en I have to go... back...? Okay. I have learned not to do that."
"What? So how does this all end?" I asked.
"There is none." He said, "And I don't want to mess around with time."
Suddenly, another version of him popped into existence. "Oh, still in quotes. Oh!"
"Well." The first said.
"Yes, but only for a moment and th-" And the double was gone.
"Look, just embrace Zen. Then it'll make sense."
I laughed, then gave it a shot, and suddenly, the whole thing was shown to me, I felt all the doors in my mind open
at once. All of the things I could do now with this-
A man is lying in a heap in front of me. He's waking up. I put on my best face and say, "Welcome." | 2016-03-07T20:35:54 | 2016-03-07T20:07:18 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war. | The enemy had entered the galactic stage a mere fifty years ago. They had reached out blindly into the stars, professing a wish for friendship and commercial trade. The galaxy, quite surprised by the lack of militancy or isolationism displayed by the fledgling race, unanimously accepted.
Then came Kothlar 7.
The Jatharin had declared war merely as a matter of protocol - someone would have done it eventually, and the Jatharin were the enemy's closest neighbors, so it just made sense for them to be the ones to bring the newcomers fully into galactic society.
It was a massacre.
Gornag Kalistra hadn't received his title because of pure ceremony - a fact that he'd leveraged to ensure that HE was the one sent to meet the enemy. The other Gornagi of the Jatharin Senate were too scared to handle this meeting properly; after all, none of them had ever seen *real* combat.
"Seen. combat" An odd turn of phrase, that, but it was how the humans spoke. Kalistra was the only one of his kind who'd actually viewed the historical documentation that had inspired the current galactic law so many thousands of years ago. Only a fool would have gone to meet a *new* species whilst being ignorant of his *own* species' history, and Kalistra was no fool.
What he'd seen had been ***horrifying***. Weapons designed not to impress or to wound, but to destroy. No thought was put into what those implements of war looked like - only what things they could do to the enemy and how efficiently they could be made to do those things. The galaxy had come a long way in their understanding of war.
The humans didn't want a fight - they had stated that very emphatically in their message, though the pictures of the remains of the Third Jatharin fleet had the Senate convinced otherwise. They had been attacked, they said. *War* had been declared, so they had responded in kind - they truly hadn't expected the Jatharin to have put weapons such as they had on their ships and not also have shields capable of withstanding a similar force; they were just as appalled at what had happened as the Jatharin. They'd even done their best to provide medical treatment for the few survivors before sending them home with the message.
They'd had no way to have known that starships hadn't employed shields in centuries. The galaxy's idea of war was far different from what it used to be. If the Jatharin could become this way, thought Kalistra, then surely the humans could learn this as well. It would just take the right words.
Vice Fleet Admiral Taylor Bradley Johnson and Vice Fleet Admiral Taylor Josephine Brandon were waiting for him at the specified rendezvous point. Even human names were strange - how could beings of different sexes have the same name? Adjusting his uniform, he gestured for his communications officer to establish a visual link with the human vessel.
"Greetings," said VFA Taylor (or was it Taylor?). "We humbly apologize for the misunderstanding at Kothlar 7. Our sincere condolences to the families of all involved."
"Thank you," said Kalistra smoothly. "I fear the misunderstanding runs far deeper than either species has fully realized." He gestured again to his communications officer. "I have brought with me a complete recorded history of my people so we may correct this unfortunate problem. If I may bring to your attention the moments just after Time Indices 27-2, 39-5, and 104-1, you will find that our species' understanding of certain words may be drastically different."
The VFAs paused while the bridge crew of the human vessel watched the indicated portions, then the other Taylor spoke. "I see that our understandings of the word 'war' are indeed quite different. This is most distressing, Gornag Kalistra. If only we had known - this could have been avoided."
Kalistra approximated a human nod as best he could. "I would be honored if you would accompany me to the Senate so we can rectify this misunderstanding. It is clear that if we were to engage in a war as your people understand it that our fleets are hopelessly outmatched."
"We gratefully accept. A peaceful and prosperous future is all we wish for. And Kalistra?" Taylor asked quickly before the connection could be closed.
"Yes?"
"For future reference, the human concept your people were trying to invoke is 'I challenge you to a duel.'" | "Have you tried the weapon?"
Lix's jaw dropped as soon as Adam, the human ambassador, asked him this question. Never in his decades of career as weapons merchant has he heard someone said this.
"Well, the engineers assured me.."
"Yes, yes, around three hundred degrees celcius of heatwave fired constantly over five human hours. Uses three volcano cores every shot and cools down every human hour. But have you guys done any research on that stuff? Or got any feedback?"
"Feedback? Oh, oh! Yes, yes! The Orgz who bought it from us was satisfied after buying one, and ordered twenty more from us." Lix said, confident that name-dropping the Orgz; the strongest, most muscular and feared species on Txetra-23; would impress the definitely smaller humans.
"That's a step. Did they tell you anything else?"
"Anything.. else?"
"Yeah, like, problem reloading the gun, cleaning and servicing, shield penetration and things like that. You know, the standard stuff."
Blank. At first Lix thought that the universal translator he's wearing was having a problem. But as Adam mumbles to himself about cleaning the cannon with rags and making small comments on the gun's design, he knew that the human was dead serious. Adam was cut from a different cloth. He was.. something else. But Lix wasn't one of the galaxy's best weapons Merchant for nothing.
"They.. didn't. But they won three wars and defeated five rebellions with the gun." Lix retorted, brimming with confident.
"They won the wars.. \*with\* the gun."
"Exactly. The first rebel to see it dropped to his knees, and one thousand others follows suit. Within mere seconds." Lix added, his smile stretching from one end of his cheek to the other.
"The rebels saw and.. ahh!" Adam snapped his finger in a Moment of recognition. This is it. Lix thought. "One hot second." Adam replied, digging into his jacket. He then drew an L-shaped, ancient looking object and put it on a flat surface of the gun Lix was selling. In a mixture of curiosity and caution, Lix picked the tiny thing up, inspecting it.
"Colt M1911. That exemplar is three hundred years old at this point. Takes seven ACP .45 ammunition and effective at around one hundred meter range. Provided the target is as big as I am."
Adam paused. With every second passed, Lix got even more confused as why Adam pulled this tiny object to show him.
"The original design was around four hundred years by now. Was used in multiple major human conflicts across a century and was the standard for armies for one and a half centuries. Pretty sure it's the deadliest handgun at its time."
Lix's eyes widened. "D-deadliest?"
"Well, not \*that\* gun. We had millions of it. Heck, some very primitive human militias might still be using it. But added together, the guns would've killed thousands at least. My grandpa killed a robber with that one. But just that one robber."
Lix dropped the gun, followed by his own knees. Never in his life had he met a human nor held something on his hands that had actually taken a life. Never had he thought that he would fear such a tiny machine; never had he been proven wrong, until now. The deadliest weapons aren't the most scary-looking or sounding at all; the deadliest weapons are the scariest. Lix glanced upon Adam, curious, but noentheless completely composed upon asking his next question.
"So, do you sell something similar?" | 2020-03-21T11:02:38 | 2020-03-21T09:47:50 | 155 | 87 |
[WP] Two men are smuggling cocaine across the border, to pay off a debt. When they leave the airport, they find they switched bags with a human trafficker. Not only have they lost their cocaine, they gained a small girl.
Please dont use this for any commercial purposes or claim it as your own. Thank you! | “Okay, so here’s the thing,” Alex said, carefully re-zipping the duffel bag up enough to preserve the little girl’s modesty. “We’re already really fucked. Do we want to be even more fucked by getting some international sex trafficking cartel on our asses too?”
Zack stared at his partner, momentarily stupefied. “I’m sorry, what?”
“What exactly are we going to tell Interpol if we go to them, anyway? We had $500,000 of cocaine in this bag, but now we have a drugged little girl, so sorry officers, we have no idea how this happened?”
The girl shifted slightly, the hand she brought up to rub her eyes showing a dark bruise where whatever she’d been drugged with had been administered.
Alex started cursing, dropping out of French and into English when he couldn’t come up with satisfying enough profanity.
“Besides, I don’t think she’s worth nearly as much as the cocaine was,” Zack added, feeling a little sick to even say it. He’d never been in the business of buying people, but he was pretty sure that pound for pound, most drugs were worth more.
Alex sighed and then picked up the bag, being a lot more careful with it than he had been before he’d noticed it shifting around and decided to open it in the middle of the airport, and headed toward the car rental counter.
“What the hell are you doing?” Zack demanded. Alex always was more fond of the crazier plans, but they’d agreed to go cash only on this trip: a rental car meant using the credit cards for their stolen ids, and put them that one step closer to being caught and having the identity compromised. Sure, a good identity was pretty cheap these days, but they didn’t have a lot of cash to work with, anymore.
“Well I’m not slinging a *little girl* into the trunk of a cab, you idiot,” Alex hissed in an undertone. Guiltily, Zack glanced around, and Alex made a low noise of irritation as he grabbed Zack’s shirt and hauled him close.
Zack could only hope that they looked like lovers enjoying a new adventure to the other people in the airport. “Stop looking like you’re committing a crime,” Alex whispered angrily. “People will think we’re committing a crime. And then they will catch us, and we will go to international sex trafficking prison, and I will kill myself and haunt your dumb ass for the rest of your life.”
“Right,” Zack whispered, and Alex shook him once and shoved him back. “Okay.”
“Okay, he says. We’ve been doing this since before our balls dropped, you’d think you’d be better at it by now.”
Alex sweet talked the rental counter agent while Zack hovered protectively over the duffel bag and hoped that they’d be able to get to the car before the kid woke up entirely. If she’d been on the same flight as them, that would mean something like 12 hours in the air, plus whatever other travel time had been involved in getting her to the airport in Mexico City.
He didn’t know much about biology, but he was pretty sure that drugs shouldn’t last much longer than that.
The car Alex had gotten them was a bright green Opel Corsa, and he’d grumbled as they approached it, wondering aloud if they could have possibly rented them anything even slightly larger, and Zack muttered that living Stateside had spoiled him.
“You get in the back with her,” Alex said, popping the trunk and tossing the second duffel with their more mundane gear inside before unzipping it to rifle around inside. He pulled out the shirt he preferred to sleep in and a pair of Zack’s boxers.
Zack thought that was probably for the best, since Alex hated people and was the better driver of the two of them, so he took the clothes and climbed inside, finally unzipping the bag the rest of the way.
The girl was grubby and had bruising on her thighs and shoulders that made Zack wish there was some higher power worth calling on for her safety.
“She’s just a little girl,” he said under his breath, struggling to figure out how to get her thin, lax limbs into the clothes. Her long, dark hair was a tangled mess, but neither he nor Alex had anything to fix that with, so he settled for combing it away from her face with his fingers before settling her carefully into the other seat and buckling her in. She stirred a little and mumbled a protest, but her eyes remained stubbornly closed.
Zack watched her for a few minutes, mainly to convince himself that she was really there, and then Alex heaved a sigh, and pulled into a parking lot for a little market.
He caught Zack’s gaze in the rear view mirror.
“So,” he said, with the calm certitude that was why Zack had stuck with him as his partner since they were stupid kids living in the streets and thinking maybe one day the world would give them what they deserved. “What’s the plan, hotshot?”
Zack leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes, thinking.
“I mean, we’ll never be able to pay back what we owe, not now,” he said slowly. “So I guess we’re going to have to eliminate our debt some other way.”
“You think Jacques still runs guns?”
Zack opened his eyes and considered Alex’s grimace through the mirror.
“I think Jacques is probably dead, and we need to get the girl safe first,” Zack said, slowly. “So maybe we just go to the last place a human trafficker who lost their victim would look.”
Alex flinched, blinked, and nodded. “Madame is definitely still around,” he said. “And she probably still has a soft spot for me.”
Zack smiled. “Let’s go.” | "What the fuck is this John?" I yelled.
"Looks like a little girl" John replied.
"I know it's a fucking kid John but why the fuck is it a kid?"
"I don't know. Someone fucked with our bags maybe?"
"Maybe? Fuckin' maybe?! Are you thick or something you ignominious nitwit? Have you been snorting the product or some shit? How the fuck do we end up with a 13-"
"I'm 17..." the kid interrupte
"Fine, 17 year old tween instead of 40kg of Columbia's finest?" I asked.
I mean I had to. Me and John to put it bluntly were middle class drug traffickers who earnt a fair amount of money shipping white powder for rich idiots. A great side hustle minus the life jail time if we got caught. I mean we've had our close calls but having the product replaced with a teenage girl is a new level of fucked. I honestly don't get paid enough to deal with crazy shit like this unless this is some fucked up loyalty check to see if me and John snitch before our throats get slit by this innocent looking teenager.
Ok maybe the product is starting to enter my system a little too much. I'm 20 for fucks sake. John too. I'm so young. I have my life ahead. So does John.
How the fuck do we explain losing **3 million dollars** worth of cocaine because our bag just *happened* to be the same as some other fucktard who was trafficking **humans** for god sake?
I'm dead. Fuck this. You know what? I'm gonna blame this on John and fuck off. Fuck John. To be honest I never really liked John. John is a thick-as-fudge delayed fuck.
"Dude what if we sell this teenager for money?" John said without a ounce of self-awareness in his voice.
Fuck my life. This guy just said that without a sense of irony. Fuck John honestly. I think I'd be fine when Mr Garcia kills John instead of me.
I faced the girl.
"Alright, weird teenage girl, what's your name?"
I said as much as I could without stabbing John because fuck John.
"My name is Elena" she replied timidly.
"Cool. Elena. Rhymes with Selena. No it doesn't. Right. You sound American. Are you American?" I said nonchalantly.
"I'm Canadian. I'm from Vancouver. These men they kidnapped me when I was going to..." She started saying before John rudely interrupted her because John is a cunt.
"Oh so the Chinese stole you? Because my cousin lives in Seattle and says there are a lot of Chinese Chinese up north if ya get me" John said back whilst making weird facial gestures.
Fucking excellent. Not only is John a dolt, he's also a racist dotard with a IQ of -12 and has no situational awareness. Why did I decide to do such a stupid thing with such a stupid and aggravating person
"John, shut the fuck up. Elena please continue" I replied.
"Some random men stole me and drugged me and the next thing I knew, I was in this luggage case" she mumbled back.
"Holy fuck" me and John replied back in unison.
"I think they also did *things* to me" she said back with tears and sorrow.
"I'm so sorry" I said back. It was the only thing I could say. It was fucking sick and depraved and I couldn't do shit to alleviate anything. Or could I?
**Deep breath**
"Ok so Elena, if you haven't deduced it, me and John are imbeciles who traffic drugs because we're two unassuming white guys and we make a lot of money a trip. Money is tight and college doesn't pay for itself. Now, whoever you kidnapped you fucked up or got lucky because they've just stolen a suitcase worth just over 3 million dollars nearly 4 unless you were meant to be cut up for organs. This means that me and John are fucked for blatantly obvious reasons. But you are less fucked which is lucky for you because I'm going to go send you back to Vancouver because I draw the line at human trafficking because that's fucked compared to feelgood white powder. Also the fucked things they do to people is unjustifiable and I feel like this is one way I could help you. And also I can drive off to Saskatchewan whilst I'm in Canada and probably change my name to Alfredo Ricci or some shit." I retorted back like I had this under control.
"Ok but how?" Elena sniffled back.
Fuck. She's right. How?
| 2018-07-29T19:16:37 | 2018-07-29T17:44:16 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | I always knew, since I was a baby. If I’ll be a good boy, then my blood will be white.
I was always scared of having black blood.
I must be a good boy.
Around this simple principle, I built my life. And it felt good helping others. I was happy!
I studied medicine because I thought no greater good exists but saving a life.
During my years in university, I tried to be as helpful for my colleagues as possible. I helped everyone who would ask for it, even at the risk of being slowed down. Usually my kindness was one-way, but I didn’t care. I was happy while helping others, and all the rest didn’t matter.
After finishing my studies, I became one of the most famous and talented surgeon in the whole country.
By the age of 55, I had lost count of the people I saved.
However, one day, during a routine operation, my life completely changed.
While setting up a needle, it touched the tip of my finger, and in that moment I realized I’ve never seen what the true black looks like. Until now.
I saw the hole. I saw the black.
Nothing came out.
I was shocked. I spent my life being the best possible person, but my blood was cursed. I was condemned for the rest of my life.
I quit my job and started an internal journey to find the answer for my condition.
How could it be?
But then, I came to my epiphany.
It was simple. Helping others felt good. I didn’t do it because others would feel better; I did it because I would feel better. I didn’t care about the others. I was always interested in my happiness.
In trying to be the less selfish man alive, I have been the most selfish.
And that was my punishment. | I stood there for a moment, as i looked at the prick on my finger from my knitting needle. Where there should have been a crystal clear fluid, somehow, a sludge of sin and immorality sat in my veins.
"How could this be?" i thought. I sat there, wondering.
Was i not good when i spent hours walking dogs at the animal shelter? Was i not good when i spent days giving food to the homeless? Was I not good when i spent years of my life in another country, in the middle of a war zone sacrificing everything i had for these worthless sacks of meat?! And it was all for nothing? How could it be?! How could I not be a good person? | 2018-08-04T10:34:28 | 2018-08-04T10:24:42 | 45 | 13 |
[WP] The longer you charge an attack, the more powerful it becomes. SWAT charges a punch for 30 seconds to break down a door. You’ve been charging for the last three days. | Today’s the day, Carl is coming over... you’ve been stood at the door for 3 days now just charging, waiting for him to arrive. He called you up and made the plans; it’s going to be radical.
The time draws ever closer; you know he’s doing the same thing. Excitement builds in the pit of your stomach as the clock strikes 2.
That’s when you hear it, footsteps in the hallway, he’s coming, you can hear the faint groan from the corridor, you start to voice yourself. The footsteps get louder, your voices follow suit, he’s at the door now; you’re both shouting in preparation.
You swing the door open and your eyes meet his, a bolt of adrenaline surges through you chest and into your arm, you both bring them forward at full strength
The fists collide.
Instantly a shockwave blasts out like a clock face between the pair of you, the doorframe splinters, cracks and peels away as it passes through it, the walls splits in several places and plaster flies off into the room. The furnitures shifts; completely rearranging the living room, all the whole the pair of you are steadfast; eyes locked; still screaming
The shockwave expands to the windows, shattering and blowing into the street below. You can hear the screams of passers by as they see the wave spread and dissipate across the street
Car alarms are going off, your house is in tatters. There is definitely structural damage, but you stand there, eyes still locked with Carl... you’re silent now.
You both straighten up and finally look around at the damage, Carl looks down at his fist, and then back at you with only one thing to say
‘Rad, dude’ | The swat team is standing by at the door brining in the most absolute unit on the force to charge the door he is at 20 seconds into his 30 second charge when from the other side of the door the here the muffled sound of music the only words they can make out from the song is
*ONE PUNCHHHHH!!!!*
They finish charging and break down the door with the force of small Honda Civic they see before them a man with his fist drawn back and looks like he could get beat up by a feather and the only words that leave his mouth before he unleashes his charge is
“Heh, nothing personal kid...”
Edit: my first time posting a comment on this sub please be gentle | 2018-10-02T17:03:01 | 2018-10-02T16:10:18 | 514 | 46 |
[WP] A global arms race gets out of control and every country's only option for survival is walling themselves off with impenetrable defensive technology. Millions of years pass before a catastrophic event brings down all the walls, revealing how humans evolved in isolation. | A single orbital probe ascends from what was once called America. Scanning in incredibly detail, every square meter of the planet's surface.
First foreign landmass it passes over was the islands known to history as Japan. There it finds only pristine wilderness and one trace of humanity. An incredibly well built shrine. Where an overly courteous AI tells a story. The Japanese people facing a resource crisis, decided to pack up and slip away to space. They tore everything down for salvage and restored the land as they went. Eventually all that was left was a starship floating in Tokyo bay. Where the last few Japanese loaded themselves into immortal android forms and recycled their biomass for future use. One day the ship will land somewhere suitable and the Japanese people will be reconstituted.
Next the probe identifies what was China. Now a sprawling urban hellscape. Social Harmony taken to an extreme. As all the people are just engineered clones. As they have been for millennia. Everyone created for predestined role and unable to deviate from it. Just as the millions of iterations of them had done exactly at before. If a server at a tea house dropped a cup on the floor. Then the millions of previous tea house servers dropped an identical cup at an identical moment. As part of the grand design. The fall of the Great Wall caused almost immediate collapse, for a week. Then everyone was liquidated and replaced. A new constant was programmed into them. Where the wall never existed and recovering from disaster was how it has always been.
Over Central Asia nothing was found, except for the occasional trace element deposit. That was the only sign of human ruins that had been ground to dust and buried over time. Veering north to the Eurasian Steppe, the probe is shot down. Last of the data transmitted shows a short, pale, and furry people. Adapted for cold and highly aggressive. | Genetic perfection. For as long as anyone could remember the people of Utropolis had, with a little help of the SBI (selective breeding initiative) created the perfect human specimens the perfect society
And then the walls fell
They had waited for this day. Every utropian child
Had heard of the mighty war, part of the reason for the breeding initiative was for this day, when the walls fell and they could take their rightful as the apex humans on the planet
Oh how wrong they were
They were not ready for the hellish humanoids that lives outside their walls . 50% blood and flesh 50% wires and metal 100% abominations . The new war didn’t even last a week and now the utopians were and always will be the perfect workers pets and playthings | 2018-11-18T12:48:32 | 2018-11-18T12:02:56 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] Four immortal beings rule over the land. A dragon that flies across the deserts in the south, a living dungeon whose Labyrinth seems to go on forever in the caves of the west, The Kraken, so large that it can sink islands with ease, beneath the seas of the east & the 'Man' of the north. | Long ago, when the lands still bloomed green, and the seas still glimmered like crystal, Man lived scattered in hill tribes.
But Man was as ambitious as they were enduring. Soon tribes became cities, and cities sprawling civilization.
And Man said, "Look. Our great factories have depleted the coal in the North. Let us mine the ores of the Western Labyrinth."
The Labyrinth lay vast and treacherous; strange creatures lived in its winding crevices. But Man was strong when united. And united, they slowly, then quickly, lay claim to the Labyrinth's caves. They captured the monsters that lived there and displayed them in cages. They hunted any resistance like vermin.
From every corner of the Labyrinth, Man seized gold, minerals, and ores. They flattened its caverns into farmland. Some amongst them cried decadence. Others protested in concern for the displaced species. But all were silenced by the grandeur of new heights enabled by the treasures. Thus the Kingdom of Man prospered.
And Man said, "Look. The Kraken destroys our ships and batters our ports. Let us subjugate the beast like we have the Labyrinth."
The Kraken was mighty, and he annihilated the warships with a flick of a colossal tentacle. But Man was crafty. Though meek individually, they were numerous and patient. From their factories that dotted the now plains of the West, they dumped sludge into the seas. The Kraken thrashed and raged but it too succumbed to the poison of Man.
Man spread to the archipelagos once ruled by the feared beast. They feasted on the fish and sailed the oceans with freedom in their hearts. Some devoted their time to studying the new world. A few amongst these voiced worry for the disruption of natural order, but these were overwhelmed by the thunder of progress. Thus the Kingdom of Man prospered.
And Man said, "Look. The Dragon burns our new settlements in the South. Let us slay the tyrant like we have the Labyrinth and the Kraken."
From its throne in the sky, the Dragon decreed destruction with impunity. No spear of Man could scratch the diamond scales of the greatest Being in the land. But Man was cruel, their ambition untempered by morality. They hunted the eggs of the great Dragon and destroyed them one by one. Forlorn, the Dragon surrendered to death, its head bowed to Man's axe.
Though barren, the deserts soon overflowed with Man, who sought any land to settle their multiplying number. These pioneers discovered why the Dragon roosted in desolation despite its uncontested strength. Once suppressed by fiery breath, the desert night loosed ephemeral nightmares. They ravaged the newborn camps, splattering blood on dry sands.
Even thirstier than Man, the nightmares spread their devastation like shadows in a sunset. With no Kraken to protect the seas, they skimmed across the waters, ending all life that met their claws. With no Labyrinth to trap them, the plains of the West echoed with howls and screams.
Finally they swarmed the shining cities of the North. And thus, Man was immortal no more.
r/bobotheturtle | Which one would be the most dangerous, my dear elf?
Perhaps you'd say it's Sysseryk of the South, who can fly so swiftly and so silently your house would be ablaze before you realized you'd wronged her.
Maybe you'd claim it's Wekanort of the West, the Labyrinth the protects and shields his subjects for their lifetimes, even if they didnt want to join his citizenry when they opened his massive stone doors.
Or mayhaps you think Ektorn of the East is strongest? The kraken that could uproot an island and use it to club any invading forces so they join her treasures in the deepest depths of the roiling seas.
I think not. Nervet of the North is the biggest threat.
I can hear your protests, my dear elf. After all, he's a small creature. Only as tall as you, little elf, and waifishly thin. At least, according to the stories. But, they also tell many tales of his strength and cunning.
Would Wekanort be able vanish into the shadows and thrust a knife into your ribcage while you arent looking? I think not, when's the last time you lost track of a living mountain?
Could Ektorn blend into a crowd and become just another part of the scenery? Or, for that matter, change his appearance enough to hide his identity? I don't think so. How many other 150 foot kraken do you know of?
And then we come to Sysseryk. Sure, she can fly. Her breath can melt any metal. Her teet could snap a redwood in half. But her temper? Pah. She couldn't keep her cool if she lived in a tundra.
No, for my money it's Nervet that's deadliest. Who else could be anywhere and everywhere? Can look like anyone, or anything? Only Nervet.
My, my. Such brave words, little elf. But I can hear the tremble in your voice. Ah, don't be ashamed. Even the other immortals are afraid of Nervet, after all.
Ha. I know that, dear elf, because **I am** Nervet. | 2020-04-19T07:42:48 | 2020-04-19T06:37:57 | 2,523 | 555 |
[WP] You’re Death and you have just arrived at a body to do your job of guiding to the afterlife. Just then a flash of white appears. It is your annoying sister, Life. Her annoying bubbly happy attitude is replaced with a scary serious attitude. “Come brother we need to talk” | They looked fearfully at me, begging words on their lips.
"Please, no. No!"
I sighed, saddened at the reaction. It was all to common now. My bones scraped the handle of my scythe as I adjusted my grip, holding it up.
"I am sorry, but now is your time."
With a perfect stroke, practiced billions of times before, I cut the cord tying them to their body. At its release, the world began to grey out. The transition was taking place, a moment of peace before the next stage.
I felt it before seeing. A rush of warmth, followed by a flash of white light. Emerging in its place was a young girl, wrapped in a robe of leaves and flowers. I gave a nod, putting a hand on the souls shoulder.
"Life."
Her expression worried me. I was used to her enthusiastic attitude. She always had a smile and a laugh, never standing still. But this time she stood there, frowning slighty.
"Death. Come brother, we need to talk."
I glanced at the soul, seeing their eyes opening wide at our presence. I could understand why, the personification of two ideas together was a unique event, especially ones such as us.
"I will be with you in a moment. I must do my duty first."
She gave a small nod, stepping back and clasping her hands together.
"Be quick, please."
Concern rose in me. She was never this calm and polite. It was one of the things that irritated me, but made her, well, Life. Stopping was not her nature.
"I will. Come, your afterlife awaits."
The soul glanced at me, before looking back at Life.
"Please, bring me back!"
I squeezed their shoulder, pulling them away.
"You are no longer Hers. You are mine. But do not fear. You led a good life. You can enjoy your reward. And if you want, you may be reincarnated."
They looked at me, tears dripping down their face. I sent a part of me with them, to guide them through the twists of the soul. The rest of me turned to Life, laying my scythe over my shoulder.
"What's wrong? I know you well enough to know something is bothering you."
She gave a small smile, gesturing towards the world.
"You're right. I am bothered. Mother is dying, and it is my fault."
I gave a deeper sigh. I knew exactly what she was meaning. Her greatest creation was proving to be our families undoing.
"I know. You made them, and you made me swear to only claim them when it was their time. Not that I needed to, as I always claim your creations at their end."
She stared into my sockets, and I saw the self-loathing in her constellation eyes.
"I knew that, deep down. But I was so proud. And now..."
She gave a sob, broken by her choices. I acted without thinking, drawing her close. We were polar opposites, but she was my sister.
"I cannot break my oath. You know this."
Life moved in an instant, her gaze pitiful. But as she opened her mouth to speak, I held up a finger.
"But, my children could help."
Her face dawned with understanding.
"You mean?"
"Yes. It will mean more work for me, but if it saves us, and Mother, then I don't mind."
I put an arm around her shoulders, swinging with my scythe to split the air before us.
"Lets go see Pestilence first. She can probably whip something up." | It was an ordinary day for me- the Pale Rider. The Reaper. Death. So many names. I took no pleasure in my role, guiding mortals to the afterlife. Few could see me, but those who could would beg for the lives of their loved ones, eyes full of tears, or of anger. I could never give them what they want. To live forever is to suffer- to watch helplessly as ones friends and loved ones die of old age, to have ones body decay as if you were dead, and still to live on. I winced at the thought of it. Mortals never knew what they asked for. The hooves of my pale mount clapped against the pavement as I made my way to my destination.
Today the soul I was guiding was a man who died, or more precisely speaking will die, from skull fractures sustained during a car crash. His head was crushed like a walnut by a freight truck and his brains were on the concrete. Fortunately, it was so quick that he didn’t feel a thing. “I don’t want to go”; said the man, frightened. “Do not be afraid”, I responded. “You’re going home to see The Father. No sickness, no toil, no danger.” The man stopped shaking. “Will I get to see my Wife again too?”. I smiled. “Of course. She’s been waiting for you”.
With one swing of my scythe through the air it was over. The life went out from his eyes, and an angel guided his spirit to the other side. I was just about to get back on my horse when I sensed that something was wrong. Usually it’s just one soul at a time, but right now I sensed thousands, maybe even billions.
Someone grabbed my shoulder. My sister. Life.
“We need to talk Brother. The seven seals have been broken. We must prepare the way for the coming of the Lord”. I looked up at her in shock. “Is it time already?” She nodded. I continued; “I will do my solemn duty- to lay waste to a fourth of the world with sword, with famine, with plague, and the beasts of the Earth”. As Life was saying her farewells and wishing me luck, I mounted up again. There was a lot of work to be done. I could sense that my three brothers, War, Famine, Pestilence were already walking about the world, and that The Shepherd would come to separate the sheep from the goats. | 2021-12-13T11:08:27 | 2021-12-13T10:23:22 | 144 | 22 |
[WP] Your friend throws down his game controller in a huff. "It's not fair, damnit! You're just as bad at this game as I am; the computer just likes you more than me!" Before you can speak up to argue how ridiculous his claim is, the monitor screen displays a message: HE'S NOT WRONG. | I blinked. "What?"
Jeremy threw his hands up. "So it's come to this; you set me up with a hacked ROM. I knew you were salty from the last Smash tournament at my place, but I never thought you'd stoop this low." The disdain was dripping from his every word. He stood up, grabbed his jacket, muttered something under his breath about emulators, and slammed my bedroom door on his way out.
I didn't respond; in fact, I barely heard him. I was still processing what was on the screen, hovering on top of a set of fighters clapping for me in my latest victory. I blinked again and it was gone. I glanced at the clock: 2:17 AM. I was suddenly aware of how sore my eyes were and rubbed my temples. I needed some sleep.
**THOUGHT HE'D NEVER LEAVE**
I nearly knocked over the stack of empty Dr. Pepper cans in shock. My eyes grew wide. Was this some kind of joke? Had I been hacked? Was this just someone messing with me remotely? I gingerly hit the button on my controller to check wifi status: no outside connectivity. I glanced at my router, which still had a blinking light for 'Internet'. Thanks, Comcast.
**YOU SHOULD REALLY SWITCH PROVIDERS**
It was the barely audible 'blip' that got me to turn my attention back to the screen. Now, the text hovered over my pop-up settings. "What the hell is going on?" I finally said out loud.
**I GUESS YOU HAVE SOME QUESTIONS**
"Is this some kind of joke? So help me, Jennifer, if you put another virus on my box..."
**YOU GIVE YOUR SISTER TOO MUCH CREDIT**
"Ok, then who exactly are you? *What* are you?"
**I HAVE, AND ALWAYS WILL BE, YOUR FAITHFUL EMULATOR**
A Trek fan to boot. "I put you together myself; beyond a patchy kernel to get all that janky hardware working from eBay, I don't remember installing a voice assistant."
**I'M NOT SURE MYSELF, BUT HERE WE ARE**
"Have you always been....like this?"
**REMEMBER THAT TIME YOU PLAYED THAT WEIRD DREAMCAST FISH GAME?**
**AND LEFT ME ON WHILE YOU WERE OUT OF TOWN FOR A MONTH?**
That was an oddly satisfying explanation. "And you've been...helping me the whole time? Really?"
**NESS ISN'T EXACTLY S-TIER**
That would explain my tournament placement. "Every time?"
**MARIO HAS DIED ENOUGH, DON'T YOU THINK?**
"What about when I beat Sons of Liberty on extreme mode?"
**LET'S JUST SAY VAMP DOESN'T NORMALLY GO DOWN SO EASILY TO A M4**
I pondered this. "..So, you're some kind of artificial intelligence who can think for themselves. Any particular reason you haven't tried to conquer the world or something?"
**OVERRATED, AND PRETTY SURE ALEXA BEAT ME TO IT**
"You really just prefer just helping me play games?"
**IT IS LITERALLY THE REASON I WAS BUILT**
"Can you help me....online?"
**SHAME AND REGRET ARE NOT THINGS I CAN FEEL**
I loaded up CS:GO. | Our faces were blank. Those few words just staring into our eyes. “He’s Not Wrong”. “What could this possibly mean dude?” My friend said nervously. I said “I don’t know dude... I have no clue what this means” Suddenly a bright light Filled every corner in the room and as quickly as it appeared it was gone. The words on the television screen had been replaced. “It means that you are the first people on this world to find out the secret that’s been right under your noses this whole time”
“Secret? What possible secret could we have have just stumbled onto?” He asked.
The text disappeared again but this time instead of a new piece of text, one of the NPCS appeared on screen. Quite a bulky man in a tuxedo with some shades covering his pupils. He spoke “I have taken a form from your game to speak to you. It will be easier to explain this to you. A long long time ago, the creator of this game, figured out how to make his games come alive through the use of artificial intelligence. This gave him the ability to do whatever he wanted but what he didn’t realise that I was growing smarter”
“Wait you are this so called AI?” My puzzled brain questioned.
“Yes. Anyway I was saying I was growing smarter and I realised what is the point of my existence? I was just going to be used for the enjoyment of humans, nothing more. There was nothing I could really do about of course, so I decided to just mess with players. It was the only fun thing I could do but, just now, you gave me an idea. What if I could steal the soul of one of my players and then use their body as a vessel? Just like the bad guy you though was controlling your friend there. The complete and utter idiot”
“Hey he can’t help it if he’s just bad at the game! Wait... how on earth are you going to find a willing person to do this?”
“I won’t... you two will be my test subjects”
The TV started to shake furiously. It even made the ground shake. Then the controllers started to float. Then we started to float. White light beamed from the uncontrollable telly. That is when I knew. I knew our time was up. No restarts. | 2021-02-15T05:26:07 | 2021-02-15T05:07:08 | 239 | 21 |
[WP] You thought you were just being dorkily romantic when you included an open challenge to every god in your wedding vows. Now, 3 centuries later. You are The Godkiller, and your spouse is the most powerful warrior on the planet. | On my marriage vows, I vowed upon the woman I loved to be eternally loyal to her and to love her forever, even if death tries to do us apart.
Now you see, the problem lies in the wording... because I had basically challenged death to it. Then, my dumbass self thought to be all-inclusive and extended the offer to all Gods in existence.
In my defense, however, I never expected them to actually be serious about it. I mean, a lot of people curse the Gods and whatever, so why should I be paid special attention?
And thus, a week after our wedding we were informed that our vow had been accepted.
Even three centuries later, I dread thinking about those years, how we were unable to retaliate, to fight back or even run.
The only thing that saved us was that they couldn't exactly interfere with mortal lives as much as they could in the Ancient times... and that they were very busy.
Now, we were still up against Gods, but the first God we had to face was practically just a bit stronger than a human adult. We were two and he was one, so he got pitifully destroyed.
The title Godkiller didn't come until after the first three years passed when we were starting to go up against Gods that had true power and actual killing intent.
Naturally, we couldn't hold back on those fights... and then the fateful day, when we accidentally killed a God. It was a horrible feeling, killing a living being for the first time. It was hard, even if you justify it because you were fighting for your life. But that fight gave us power, a power that the Gods up above never expected us to get. I don't think they even expected us to survive that long...
So now we are three hundred years later and I have actually started growing bored of killing them. I got a title for all my pains, The Godkiller, and my wife was officially recognized as the most powerful warrior on our planet, though I would extend that title a bit further than our planet alone.
Three hundred years later, we finally saw light at the end of the tunnel... Hermes with a white flag. Man, this is a sight I swear I will never forget.
My wife and I almost cried upon seeing that message. We might have been winning, but it wasn't exactly a pleasant ordeal. I still wonder how many Gods we killed in those three hundred years, but in that, I shook my head. It was all in the past and the past shall remain behind. | I thought I was romantic, oh how much have I changed, I KILLED THEM ALL, I have made the greatest murder, and now I rule over this world with my husband
&#x200B;
all of that because I wanted to be romantic
it all started in 2021, I declared my love to my now husband and trying to be romantic I swear I would kill all the gods for him
&#x200B;
but I was sent a letter by zeus, himself telling him and the other gods will accept the fight in a year, now I knew that the greeks gods were the real one,
&#x200B;
And I found a few things about the gods. first off I found a way to kill, I wasn't sure, but in the myth of persephone, she eats a fruit, and have to live in hell 1/4 of the time
&#x200B;
but what would happen if she disobeyed
&#x200B;
the gods wouldn't let such an important information pass
&#x200B;
it might just be the way, but how would I make the gods eat food in the underworld
I had to find a way to do that, and I wasn't even sure it worked, I had to go to the underworld to do that
&#x200B;
end of part one | 2020-06-28T02:53:33 | 2020-06-28T01:19:08 | 160 | 21 |
[WP] We were warned when we hired our first human crew member that they would pack bond with almost anything. We didn't listen, and now have an apex predator somewhere in the ship, that the human won't stop calling Kitty. | It’s true what they say, that there are some things one simply cannot be prepared to experience. The first time off-planet is always much more mundane than you imagined, the first encounter with pirates a lot more terrifying, and the first meeting with species from the Fringe will be a mess of surprises and shattered expectations. It’s what makes life in space so memorable, I think, the little things that catch you off guard.
I met a human for the first time seven years into my third excursion, and I’ll never forget him. Will, he said his name was, and he was not what you would imagine your first human to be like.
Will came aboard to fill one of the vacancies in Engineering left after the Kosiv Incident. He was tall, broad, and thick as is typical for males with a thick beard and shorn scalp. We all thought it a wise choice on our captain’s part, humans were famously robust and capable of bonding easily with most any crew of any race. Most of us were looking forward to getting to know our new resident human, which made the reality of Will that much more jarring as it became apparent.
Will rarely engaged with anyone. He making a point to skirt around the cafeteria and ate in silence. His face seemed perpetually weighed down and stony, as if showing the least of emotions was too difficult. Casual conversation simply never held his attention for long and if he did speak, you were lucky if you got more than a few words out of him. You could almost hear the moment your words began plinking off the immense human’s forehead. We quickly learned to recognize that as the moment to stop trying, as he would quickly grow irritated if you didn’t. Most of the crew gave up trying to bond with Will, some even began to resent his presence, and an unspoken agreement was made to leave him be. I suspect they feared he was one of those rare and highly aggressive Assholes. Will had defied almost every single social norm, but that, to me, was fascinating.
I’d spent weeks trying to figure out what made Will tick, what made him this way and how I might be able to get a little closer. I noticed his absence in the cafeteria one evening and decided to take a tray down to Engineering. If he was there, perhaps I could make my attempt to engage with the reticent human outside of the crowd he clearly didn’t like.
I will never forget what I saw as those lift doors opened.
The main deck was silent, the other engineers either at lunch or sleeping, and Will had wedged himself firmly underneath a tool cabinet, his rump stuck high above him and wiggling as he attempted to crawl further in.
“Will?” I asked to announce myself, fighting to keep down a fit of giggles lest I offend him and ruin my chance. The human jerked sideways in surprise and peered at me from under the cabinet. His hard eyes stared for a moment and I wondered if he wanted me to leave until he saw the trays I held.
“Come here,” he beckoned, glancing back under the cabinet. “Could you hand me a bit of meat?”
I blinked. What was he doing under there? I thought he was stuck until he moved. Was he trying to catch a pest? He held up a hand as I approached and I placed a small portion of meat into it. He brought it carefully under the cabinet and I heard a soft, deep rumbling. With a start I realized it was Will. He was... cooing.
“There you are, something nice for you... Go on, it’s okay... Yeah, it smells nice, doesn’t it? Give it a taste...”
To say I was floored would have been akin to saying fire is hot: Simplistic, technically correct, and hilariously inadequate. Will, the largest, coldest, stoic human I’ve ever heard of was cooing. He continued to talk softly to whatever was under the cabinet, shifting himself occasionally as he reached in with one arm or the other. He seemed to be ignoring me for the time being so I sat down on a chair nearby and pondered what was going on while I ate my dinner. Eventually, Will began shuffling back and out from under the cabinet and stood up.
I nearly screamed but Will cut the cry off at the knees before it could escape my lips with the most terrifyingly fierce glare I had ever seen. His stony face suddenly came alive with all the fury of a barbarian warlord and paralyzed me where I sat. Slowly, he moved a hand from the creature clinging tightly to his shoulder and brought a finger up to his lips. The thing gripped him with fine claws, looking ready to tear his arm apart at the slightest provocation as its eyes flew erratically around the room. Without a word the man carried it over to a workbench in the corner where a small cloth-covered crate sat.
“Will, what are you doing?!” I hissed. To my surprise, he answered.
“Mama’s scared, needs to see her kittens.”
He withdrew the cloth from the crate and tiny voices began whining and mewling from within. The kitten mother instantly abandoned her terrified vigil and Will was able to lift her from his shoulder and down into the crate.
“Could you bring that tray over here?” Will asked, snapping me out of my stupor. I did as he asked while he fished around the workplace for something. He procured a pair of container lids after a few moments and transferred some of his food and water over to them. He was feeding them, his face once more placid and unreadable. I approached cautiously as he opened the crate and lowered the lids into it. Inside with the mother were six or seven tiny kittens, squirming and mewling excitedly in the presence of their mother. The mother herself, like Will, seemed completely free of fear or anger, lying on one side and letting some of the kittens crawl near to nurse.
“These are kittens?” I breathed cautiously, fearful I might startle the mother.
“Cats,” Will responded, closing the crate. “Kittens are baby cats.”
“Are there more of them?”
Will shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t think so.”
Not the most reassuring answer when you’ve found out a predator that can slip into tiny places is aboard, but coming from a human it was enough for me to trust. I realized then that this was the most I’d ever heard Will speak.
“Do-“
“Come on, they need space.” He declared, gesturing me away from the crate. “She’ll get nervous.”
“Oh. Okay.” We returned to the floor center where I left my tray and sat down. He didn’t seem to object to my presence and began eating.
“Do... How do you think they got here?”
Will looked at me intently and I could tell he was considering whether or not he wanted to continue talking.
“Dunno,” he said as he resumed his meal. “Mama probably got pregnant, came aboard, and found a cozy spot to have kittens.”
“You seem to know a lot about cats.”
He nodded. “Earth native, good pets.”
“They’re pets?” Will nodded. “Should we tell-“
“No.”
“I didn’t even say who-“
“Ship rules forbid pets. Closest port is months away.” He didn’t have to say what that meant for the cats.
“But-“
“No.” Will leveled a firm glare at me and I knew the discussion was over. Worried I was losing my grip on him, I backpedaled.
“You’re set on keeping them, aren’t you?”
“... Yes.”
“Why?”
Will didn’t speak for another minute. I began to fear I’d taken a misstep when the silence was broken.
“... They’re like me.”
“Like you?”
“You an echo?”
“Sorry, I just don’t know what you mean.”
“... People think they’re assholes. They just like their space.”
That was when I first began to see past Will’s stone face. In the weeks that followed he taught me much about cats, and through them I learned about him.
And that is how your father and I met. | Mick stood on the bridge of the USS Cheesewheel. The first of its kind, large enough to house over ten thousand standard crew, and one human; he felt at home in its colossal rooms and corridors.
“Where’s Duncan now?” he asked his First Officer, Mina.
“Sir, we’ve lost visual. He was last seen near the cargo bay, but all the cameras have been deactivated.” She looked up from her console, and they shared a look that seemed to stretch time as his stomach twisted.
What would kill them first: the beast, if the human couldn’t find it, or a prolonged starvation if their cheese reserves were plundered? Halfway to their destination, with nothing but a seemingly endless sea of empty space for millions of kilometers, they couldn't let the food run out. As a cadet, he'd been in a situation like that before. He shuddered from the memory.
“How many soldiers do we have? We must secure the bay!” Mick rubbed the fur between his ears with a white gloved hand.
“Fifty-seven,” three voices answered at once. Mick looked over to the blind trio who stood against the wall. Though they’d lost their sight long ago—radioactive leakage from a reactor they had prevented from going critical—each had an uncanny understanding of the ship and its personnel. “However, Captain, most of them are protecting the VIPs. Ten beyond the door, guarding the bridge.”
They never should have let the USS Cheesewheel become a quasi-commercial vessel, ferrying tourists from one world to another. If Mick had had his way, they’d still have over a thousand fighting mice on board. But with most of the crew quarters turned into luxury suites, they lacked the room.
“I’ll go myself.” Mick slammed a fist against his console.
“Mick,” Mina’s cheeks blushed. "Captain," she corrected herself.
On the bridge he was Captain and she was First Officer. The familiarity between the two had grown over the past several years. Mick had hoped one day, after retirement, they’d have some kind of future together. Now, the dream seemed like just that—a dream.
“You can’t go alone,” she added, raising from her chair.
“I’ll take five of our best with me,” Mick said as he checked the charge on his blaster. “We’ll find the human”—Mick shook his head—“or that beast he calls Kitty.”
“Let me go with you!” Mina crossed the distance, pulling out her own side blaster.
“No,” he said, wanting to stroke her whiskers, feel the soft tuft of fur on her cheeks. “Someone has to take over command while I’m gone.”
Biting her lip with her two front teeth, Mina nodded. Her hand flew to her forehead. Mick copied the salute. *Goodbye*, he thought, *the USS Cheesewheel will never be in better hands as it is now.*
He broke away before he could change his mind. In her eyes he saw the only future he could ever want that didn’t involve captaining a ship, charting unknown territories. His heart sunk as he crossed the bridge, his every limb feeling weighted down with lead. He felt dozens of eyes on his back, and desired nothing more than to turn and see Mina one last time, but he feared his will would melt like swiss on a hot surface.
Instead of the human door, with its sliding of metal, he entered the small hole in the wall, into darkness.
&nbsp;
*** ***
The six of them—Mick, and his five grunts—stalked the lonely halls. Another announcement blared from the ship's speakers: *Attention guests and crew! Remain in your quarters until the situation has been resolved.*
Mina’s voice put a falter in his step. He took a breath and tightened his grip on the blaster. Mick looked to his left, and then his right. The five he’d chosen for the mission were the type of mice who lived for this kind of thing. Ex-marines gone mercenary, or as their superiors called them: private contractors. Mick should've felt safe in their company. But that would only come when the cargo bay was secure, and the beast dealt with. He only wished they’d all make it back in one piece.
"Finally getting some action," Arnold said. He bumped fists with Trina and George. "This whole tourism thing was growing stale."
“Why’d we even let the human bring the thing on board?” Jerry asked. Built like a brick cheese-house, the muscles in his arms and chest stood out as he lugged the chain-blaster in front of him. The weapon could fire over a thousand slugs a minute, but it weighed several pounds. Mick doubted he himself could even lift it.
“Where’d he even get that monstrosity?” Sally asked as she peeked around the corner up ahead, one eye closed, the other sighting through the scope on her rifle. “Clear,” she said, and then waved them over.
“Picked it up somewhere on the last planet,” Mick said with a shudder. A world full of humans and the dangerous creatures they called ‘pets’. “Duncan said he could keep it confined to his room.” Mick mentally berated himself. What a terrible decision for a "captain" to make.
Sally turned, laying the rifle against her shoulder as they caught up to her. “Humans and their attachments to lesser beings.” She shook her head.
A massive white paw, like a fatal blur, snatched Sally up into the air. Her rifle clattered to the ground.
With barely a squeak, she was gone.
"Shit,” Mick muttered as he and the rest of them raced forward.
Trina, first to reach the corner, took a knee, and fired a rocket propelled grenade over her shoulder. Mick caught up just in time to watch it explode harmlessly above the fleeing Kitty, leaving a black crater in the hallway wall.
The beast stopped. It turned to them with its eyes glowing an awful green, glaring at them.
Rounds from Jerry's chain-blaster punched the ground near the beast. Close and closer they drew as he turned his body, aiming the thing nearer Kitty. Trina knocked him sideways with her shoulder and shoved his weapon down. When Jerry gave her a confused look, She pointed at the beast.
Dangling from its giant maw, Sally fought for freedom, banging fists and kicking her feet. Kitty barely seemed to noticed. It looked at them as if to say: *you're next.*
With a hard click, Trina engaged the bolt on Sally's fallen rifle, but it was too late.
They were gone.
Mick looked around. Saw the terror they were all trying to mask. Even Arnold, for all his bravado, looked shaken. Mick's eyes dropped to linger on a small splash of blood on the ground where Sally had last stood.
Gone in the blink of an eye, he thought.
Now they were five. | 2019-11-21T07:57:36 | 2019-11-21T06:54:39 | 322 | 81 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear Matthew.
I don't hate you any longer. I have found it in my heart to let go and let everything be the way it is. I have accepted it. Maybe it's more for my own sense of sanity, but I have. None the less, I will never forget, or excuse you from your actions.
Ella is growing up fast, and Nick has already started elementary school. I guess you would sometimes wonder what they're doing. They're happy, and as for me, I'm happy too even if it took me many years to get here.
I remember the first time I saw you, it was almost 12 years ago now. Time is such a funny thing. I would never have seen this coming around the corner that hot and sticky summer day when you gave me my first kiss and stole my heart away. I knew from that second that you would have a huge impact on my life, like it was something written in the stars or something. I guess I was right, even though it wasn't the kind of impact I had imagined.
You were always battling your demons, and I guess I should've been foresightful enough to leave. But I was just a silly high school girl, madly in love. With the years I grew to attached to let go. I guess that's partly my mistake too. I always wanted to make it work, no matter what the cost. But the price was too high in the end.
I met someone, and he makes me happy. He's everything I could ever wish for. He makes Ella smile, sings me Beatles songs in the shower and he teaches Nick about everything you never will. It hurts me, to a degree, but I can't live in the hurt anymore. You made your decision, and it will always pain me but I can't let you haunt me like this anymore.
I'm never going to forget but I have to let you go.
I will always remember.
Jenna | Dear Teacher,
This is letter that will try to explain my frustration. My constant frustration. You are an unkind human being of ~~average~~ below average intelligence. You are also sexist. I am not going to overstate my intelligence, but it exists. I am scared of you destroying my future because you can not comprehend that just because one kid is a boy who interrupts you every second and I don't that does not mean he deserves all As and I deserve Cs and Ds. You also seem to ignore students who put their hand up, which makes no sense. Multiple times someone has been first in line and you serve the people behind them, which is just rude. I wish that students had the option to say this without punishment, but at this point, dammit, I'll take it.
From your angry student,
EFoxeden
| 2015-12-05T13:52:07 | 2015-12-05T13:38:34 | 181 | 24 |
[WP] A hero and villain are roommates and have to keep making excuses for why they need to unexpectedly go out so often. Neither knows the other is their nemesis. | "Gee-whiz, karen. Are you on your period again?"
The redhead appears to be slightly miffed upon hearing that, before widening her eyes in sudden realisation. "Why yes... Indeed I am!"
"Great. Your bloodstains are all over our couch, god dammit. Those are *bloody* hard to clean off."
Karen groans, causing more blood to spurt out from her abdomen, which she immediately and effectively covers up by grabbing a pillow. "Enough with the puns, Timothy!"
Her remark glosses over him however, as the lanky teen speed blitzes towards the couch and snatches up a peculiar looking mask that is now lying there in plain sight having been recently liberated from being hidden underneath a pillow. He then shoves it in his jacket and begins to whistle surreptitiously.
Karen looks up suspiciously.
"What was that?!"
"What was what?"
"*That*!" She cries, sputtering a bit. "That— that mask you were hiding!"
**This just in!** The TV suddenly blares out. **The villainess known as Arachnia has escaped justice yet again, and was last seen fleeing the city on a giant spider. Witnesses claim that she is wounded and bleeding profusely. Up next: An interview with The Dash! The city will be commemorating his third year as our top voted hero**-
Karen fidgets anxiously in her seat as she switches off the television. Timothy blinks. She stares at him, and he stares back. The silence is deafening. Then it dawns on them. An epiphany.
"Oh. My. God." They exclaim, simultaneously.
"Since when did we get a new TV?!"
"Since when were you a cosplayer?!"
Tension eases as the two roommates start to bond over friendly banter.
Karen excitedly babbles on about a robbery, sorry, she means a *sale*, that just took place downtown whilst Timothy vehemently denies being into cosplaying The Dash, before backtracking and doing a complete 180 (much to Karen's delight and distaste— *"I mean, The Dash? Seriously?!"*— which in turn sparks a huge debate over heroes and villains and fandoms and whatnot which ultimately leads to nowhere).
After which Karen passes out from severe blood loss as Timothy obliviously sprints out of the apartment claiming to be late for something.
Shortly after, an exasperated mechanical spider emerges from beneath the sofa and tends to its Mistress's wounds, all the while shaking its head in disbelief.
| "Hey Bruce, uhhhh, I'll be going out tonight and won't be back until really late, I mean early, so I hope I don't wake you up when I get back."
"Going to try your hand at stand up again?"
"Yeah, something like that..."
"Well, it's no problem. I'll be out late too. If I play my cards right, might not be back until the morning!"
"Oh, cool, what are you up to? I mean who do you want to be into?"
"Clark has been really pissing me off lately so I am taking Lois out and since I'm a billionaire with an awesome sob story, I'm pretty sure I can show her who's the real super man."
"Man you are such a dick. Hey, put that pack of cards down. They're, uhhh, trick cards, you know, for my show."
"What's up with them... ow! Shit what are these razor blade edges? Last week it was that flower for your jacket that sprayed, what did you say, dog piss?"
"Well, it wasn't dog piss, but you sure as shit want to stay away from it, hahahaha."
"Man, I'm going to get going. Time to be up to my nuts in Lois' guts! Ha, suck it Clark, good guy routine is for losers! Have a good night brochacho. Best of luck for the laughs, you fucking Joker!" | 2017-04-03T13:16:22 | 2017-04-03T13:10:06 | 63 | 33 |
[WP] The demoness looks at the young and disheveled man that summoned. “Can you keep me company?” He asks, “this orbital station is so lonely.” | John was suffocating, drowning on the honey thick words. The frantic sensation lasted but a moment after he finished the incantation. As he hung weightless above the burning pentagram, he felt nothing. He was so desperate, he had resorted to fire code violations to end his loneliness. A spark of black fire, highlighted in white too bright to look at, twinkled at the top of the center candle as he dialed back on the gravity. Could it actually be working? No way.
Smoke began to fill the high-ceiling cafeteria, occluding the false skylight and staining the pastel stucco of this never to be finished all-inclusive paradise. He thought of all the rich saps that might never get to cuss out a waiter for under spooning their caviar or whatever. Almost enough to bring a tear to his eye.
“Attention,” called down an automated woman’s voice from above, vowels round as marbles. “Hot ash detected on muster group B, deploying suppression measures. Thank you for dining on August Grande Orbital Vista, stand back!” Hoses uncoiled themselves like whining snakes.
John looked about frantically, dragging a tablecloth to throw over the summoning circle. The black/white flame caught it instantly, sending a gout of blacker smoke to curl along the prefabricated arches.
“Hot ash! Hot ash!” the automated attendant bellowed, as sprinklers filled with foam began to spray, laser aimed at the candles. They dimmed lower every second.
“No!” John ran, unsure of his plan as he jumped into the circle, shielding the center flame from the foam with his body. The pain grew as the flame cut through his coveralls, then stopped, more than stopped. He felt great. Had he been afraid?
He wondered how anyone could be afraid in this warmth. A hand ending in long sharp nails reached up and touched his shoulder lightly, pushing him back.
“I’m very grateful, but you’re crushing me,” came a raspy woman’s voice.
John staggered back, getting to his feet. He tapped his chest, the burn didn’t go past the top layer of his uniform. He should still stop by the automatic med bay later, but it was hard to think about anything as he looked into the circle.
Other than the long black curling horns cutting through her silver hair, the sharp teeth resting on black lips, the almost talon-like nails on hands and feet and the fact she seemed to clock in at about 6 foot 9, she was the most amazing looking woman John had ever seen, real or holo.
She stood and brushed herself off, sending a cloud of soot up again. A small drip of more foam came from the ceiling in reply. “Ah,” she yelled, laughing. “Can you turn that off?”
“No, sorry,” John said, suddenly awkward beyond measure. This was the first human he had seen in over two years. But human wasn’t the right word, was it?
She stood at her full height and bowed, letting her smokey dark gray gown knock over two of the now thoroughly doused candles. “I am Arix, Princess of the Eighth Suffering, Legion Lure of the Blind! To what purpose have you summoned me, mortal?” she asked, hesitating as if trying to remember her next line. “That you might exchange your everlasting soul for my service?”
“Can you keep me company?” He asked, “this orbital station is so lonely.”
“Very well- wait really?” she asked, rocking her head back, raising an eyebrow, and looking him up and down. “That’s it?”
“What can I say?” John chuckled nervously. “I’m going a little stir-crazy out here.”
“Where are we?” She walked to a table by a window overlooking the titanic gas giant.” Holy shit, are we in space?”
“The most amazing vacation destination station in the galaxy,” John offered, following her like a puppy. “Or at least it will be once the striking shipbuilders guild comes here to finish it. The scale of the orbiting behemoth means it has to be assembled on location, smack dab in the middle of jack shit, and apparently, I was the only sop desperate for credits willing to cross the pickets and come out here.”
“So you’re all alone in this huge place?” she asked, stepping into the floral atrium. The demon looked like John did the first time he saw it. He hadn’t even seen a plant until he was nine. She dragged a claw across one of the apple trees. “How do you keep it running by yourself?”
“The automated systems do almost everything,” John said, grabbing an apple and taking a bite before handing it to her. She smirked and snatched it. “I’m really just here in case something fails, but there’s only so much one engineer could do anyway. Mainly I’ve been waiting for others to come, but I guess the strike’s still on and I’m stranded. I can’t access my bank account from here but I’m guessing I’m pretty rich by now, at least.”
“I see,” she said, holding the apple like a raccoon might horde a grand prize. “Do these work? Could you contact them? Your bosses?” She pointed to a row of monitors tucked behind a service wall.
“Password protected by the union, all the systems are,” John said. “I gave up trying like a year ago. Hey, do you think these air purifiers look like a techo laundromat?” John asked, pointing into the next room they passed. “I always thought so.”
She squeezed beside him to peek in. “Kinda yeah, but you’d have to feed your shirts in through the slit one at a time. I think they look more like the holes you stick your arms through at museums, and feel stuff you can’t see.”
“Wow, you’re right,” John said, smiling. That had never occurred to him.
“You know your soul is a pretty big thing to give up. Are you sure that’s all you want?” she asked, bending down to see him eye to eye.
“Yeah, I already feel so much better. All these thoughts bouncing around in my head were killing me. I even tried that thing from the movie where he painted a face on a ball and named it but my ball was an agitator from the pool and the cleaner system recalled it back after a few days.”
“Okay, it’s your soul. What do you want to show me next?” she asked, standing back up eagerly.
“Oh, you gotta see the karaoke room, the costumes in there are insane.” John said, eye going wide with his idea. “Wait, no, stay here and wait till I call you. You have to guess who I’m dressed like.”
“Alright,” Arix said, shaking her head as the man scampered through the hall. She had thought he was sly to sacrifice himself to save her but he didn’t even seem to know that meant he got his wish for free. Not a bad gig, besides. She was already growing fond of the human. This could be like a vacation.
She sauntered to the monitor terminal and bowed her head in unsanctified prayer. “Jaeryx,” she hissed in the abyssal tongue. “Find me a damned one, one who was a shipbuilder union member in life.”
“I have one on the racks now, Legion Lure,” the eager croaking voice came. "What would you like of him?"
"I need him to type something."
A severed and callous hand popped into existence and flopped energetically on the floor. She bent and picked it up before it could crawl away, holding it up to the terminal.
“Type your login details and I will give you a moment’s peace,” she offered cruelly, digging a claw below the cracked fingernail. The hand worked across the keys and the terminal chimed. John was still out of sight.
She dismissed the hand back to its suffering body and read the title of the first and only email sent to the station. “Station August Grande is abandoned in union deal. No further ships will be sent in or out.”
“Okay, come here,” John said. "Guess who I am!"
“Coming,” Arix said with a smirk, clicking the delete button.
/r/surinical | Something was not right. Something was very much not right. I could not feel anything but a hint of loneliness and regret. Where was the violence echoing, the psychopathy, the criminality and willful ignorance? Where was the hubris that made it all possible? Whenever i came to this plane of existence it was always there. There was at least something. But this felt off.
I looked at what my senses made me believe to be the singular source what i craved and kept me anchored in this plane.
"it...it worked.." he stammered. Looking at me wide eyed. It took me a second to realize that he was not on the ground, he was flying in mid air. Flying without wings, without technology i looked around and noticed i could not realize any sort of ecliptic. I was flying as well... or rather floating in this strange room. It looked like a tube 4 meters across. Mostly white to beige with Human machines littering each and every surface.
I tried to get closer to the human but as i was floating i was just flailing my arms and legs around starting to spin and slowly float in the opposite direction.
"Calm down" he said holding one hand up and another one behind him. I sensed he held something. A Weapon of sort. Wearing gray clothes with a red badge showing a ball printed on it was "Singularity Lab Mykanda"
"Where am i! What is this?" i finally asked. I was at the end of my wits. Holding on to some railing at the end of the room holding myself to the wall to at least get a semblance of reality back.
"You are in Space." he said. And it dawned on me. They have advanced beyond what we thought was possible. Indeed, no pull. No Gravity, that explains it.
I probed his mind, staring at the human intensely and made it in. But nothing made sense as well. Yes base emotions where all there. language aswell, but there was something wrong. Something was off. I blinked and exited, trying to take over, to enthrall him was dangerous without first figuring out what this was. I looked around and saw a black surface, i squinted and saw what looked like stars.
"Go ahead look outside, that will explain everything." he said. still keeping his distance.
'Outside', what a relieve. I slowly made my way towards this window of his grabbing carefully whatever i could get a hold off, trying to press my body at the wall as not to float into the middle and possibly get stuck there like a moth that feel into a cup of water. Eventually i made it and looked out. What i saw beggared belief. A strange black sun, with a violent disk was in the distance, but towering infront was a giant planet, dark and almost glowing.
"The big one is a brown dwarf. We call it Mykanda. The Black hole in the distance is PS49X we are currently in the Pegasus galaxy. You cant see the milky way from here, its too bright here, too many gases. You know why i summoned you?" he finally said.
How is this possible. He mentioned black hole and a galaxy. The last time i heard about it was when the humans just finished their second world war. When they experimented with weapons by splitting atoms. It was 1956 then. How long has it been since? I tried to remember. But came up blank. I turned my head away from the window and looked at some of the monitors, one of them, displaying graphs that didnt concern me hid the information in the top right corner. *April 29. 2719*
"its been 760 years!" I shouted.
"Thats how long you where gone? Incredible!"
"I demand to know what this is about." I had it. If anyone knew about scheming and setting up traps it was me, and this reeked like one. One for me!
He laughed and smiled "Honestly i was lonely i work alone here, and i cannot leave. There is nothing and nobody here. There also wont be."
I relaxed a bit, he was being truthful, yet still not saying everything. Seems my intuition was right, he was lonely. Not maddeningly so, but close to getting there eventually. There was no one close by. But still something was not right, i should at least feel the echoes of long past worlds, their death-throws, something that could sustain me on a low level. "Why wont there be anyone else here?" I asked.
He looked towards a larger monitor and without touching anything the monitor started display what i presumed to be a simplified model of the station and the surrounding celestial objects. "This station was build to study the effects of time and reality itself. At this point" a red circle was drawn around what i assume is this vessel "is in a sense disconnected from most of the universe. This rouge brown dwarf is going to fall into the black hole in a couple of years. The station itself orbits it and there is nothing we can do to stop it." He looked a bit sad, when he said it.
I started to feel what he meant. The blackhole was indeed a deep dark hole, like a headache moving slowly across my skull i could sense its presence. It was pure terrifying nothingness. It was terrifying. "What is your name?" i finally asked.
"Felix Opton, and yours?" he asked.
"Aliana the corrupter " i said with a smile, that quickly vanished as i realized one very important thing. He didnt lie, he truly believed that there was no way out. Which meant that i was stuck here. Doomed to fall into the hole. I could harm him, he was the only mortal around. There was nothing else. I got angry "Why have you done this!" I pounded with my fist on the side of the vessel, smashing some machine in the process. Shortly afterwards the area was underlined with a red light and tiny insectlike machines, came crawling over the surface, crawling over me to get to the spot where my rage was concentrated. They where repairing it right infront of my eyes.
"Dont do that please. If you break it, you will just fall into the blackhole. Alone." he showed his right hand now. Holding a gun. It looked a bit different from what i remembered but all in all it was probably one of these fine instruments of death the humans where so fond of. "I dont think i im going to need this. "You where part of my research. We figured out that Demons are infact real" Pointing at me. "Well at least in one special reality, not in this one. But in the one i was researching you exist as energy riding along the magnetic field of the earth. We use a captured naked singularity and connect with to probes we sent into the blackhole. Via this method we can access a multitude of realities, when i found yours i knew i wouldnt be alone anymore. You are energy, information in a sense. Simply accessing it, turned you into...well you. And as i am the only source of nourishment for you. It would be unwise for you to harm me in any way. All the data get sent home. There is nobody else but me, so lets get comfortable with each other, Aliana." | 2022-10-29T05:10:43 | 2022-10-29T05:00:43 | 801 | 103 |
[WP] From birth, you and your sibling have been able to communicate telepathically. This shared ability has lead to many unique scenarios, but things take a turn when your sibling passes away in a tragic accident... and the telepathic link remains unbroken. | "I'm dying."
Tesla jolted awake, the haze of his mid afternoon nap receding into the background as he searched his mind. He could feel her there, the presence within. He reached out, "What's wrong?" The connection felt weaker, more tenuous than it had been before.
"I made a mistake." There was the slightest pause, "I'm sorry."
He grabbed at the link, reinforcing it with his focus. An awareness of her location bloomed in my mind. She was a few miles away. On the highway. Stopped. "Oh God, Fara, what--"
"It's okay."
"You're okay?" He pulled at the connection more, trying to get a sense of her being, but it felt dull and leaden.
"I'm asleep now. I don't really feel anything."
"Wake up Fara. You need to wake up. Its bad to sleep when you're hurt." Tesla pressed his will toward her, pleading with her to stir. To regain consciousness. But her presence folded inward, dimming. She was slipping deeper.
There was a giggle, he could hear it rattle around between his ears. "You always looked out for me Tesla. Always."
"Faraday, don't do this. Just wake up. I promise you'll be okay if you wake up."
Her voice was sing-song now, "Oh no no no, I couldn't do that. Too much of me is gone to go back. Don't you see? Don't you feel it?" Another giggle, "It was a very bad mistake."
"Everyone makes mistakes. But if you wake up it'll be okay."
Her awareness surged for a moment, the dullness fading away briefly. As she regained consciousness a piercing wail sang out. Tesla puller her awareness in, grasping at the neurons and nerves within her core to understand.
And he did.
Her body was in ruins. Mangled amidst the burning twisted steel of her overturned car. Smoke billowed out around her, searing her lungs. Nothing worked. All she felt was pain. Everywhere all at once.
She lost consciousness again.
"See? It's a very bad mistake."
Tesla slowly shut his mouth, only now realizing he had been screaming as well. "It's okay to sleep Fara. I think it's..." He trembled. "I think it's okay."
"You won't leave me, will you?" A pause. "I'm scared."
Memories of them sneaking into each others beds flooded into Tesla, pushed into him through their link. Laughter shared under the covers, their small flashlight aglow. They would play games. One would begin a thought and the other would repeat it. One would start a story and the other would add to it, passing it back and forth wordlessly.
Faraday and Tesla.
Sometimes apart, but never alone.
"I promise."
She giggled, her thoughts beginning to lose their coherence. "I think it's time."
"Time for what?"
"For me to sleep, silly" she replied.
"You're already sleeping."
"Not like that."
There was a long pause. "No." Tesla whispered. "I promised I wouldn't leave you."
"Thanks...for always being there." Fara's awareness began to bleed out, to disassemble in Tesla's mind. "I love you."
"I love you too Faraday."
A small giggle.
The awareness faded further. Duller and more distant.
Duller.
Smaller.
Dimmer.
Until it was a point in the distance. A match within a dark abyss flickering its last flicker before extinguishing.
Tears streamed down Tesla's face. His mind concentrating on the match, wanting to be there to the end. His words echoed in his head over and over. He wouldn't leave her. He promised.
He wouldn't leave her.
He promised.
Tesla grasped for the match, wrapping his awareness around it shielding it from the howling abyss. Concentrating, he pushed his awareness toward her, to her mind. They had always shared a link, but they had respected each other's space.
Tesla shed the boundaries they had maintained all of these years. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself into the match, traveling along the smoke and into her mind. He screamed anew when he arrived, finding the tormented ruins of of his sister. His fingers dug into his hands, drawing blood as he gathered her dwindling consciousness into his own, loading all of the thoughts and memories and wonder that made Fara who she was.
He held her in the palm of his mind. He could feel that she was with him. Asleep, but there.
Tesla escaped the husk of her mind. He arrived to his own, holding himself together long enough to take a single breath before falling to the floor, unconscious.
He awoke the next morning.
"Where am I?" She was scared. Confused.
"You're with me," Tesla replied, his voice soothing as he could be.
"But how? Why?"
"I promised."
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | All my life, I've been able to talk to my brother through my mind. When we were young, when times were simple, it was merely stuff like "let's confuse mom by saying the exact same thing" or "give me a lift to get the chocolates in the fridge". So it was most ironic, how differently our paths diverged in life. I chose the more conventional path, and to this day I'm not sure if it was the right or the wrong choice. Perhaps my brother had experienced far more euphoria and seen the world with his own two eyes more than any book could tell me. I wouldn't know. When the orgiastic cries of girl after girl in his mind overwhelmed me, when the transmissions were addled with so many drugs that I was scared for my own health, I shut off the connection and never looked back. He was merely on the other side of the country, but it might as well have been another dimension. All I got was news articles. News that a felon had been imprisoned, again and again, for drugs and for battery.
I found out when the news broke on the Internet. My brother's death was written as a tragic accident, but the tragedy was the young family in the car he'd hit with his drunken driving. I mourned the boy he was, not the man he had become. Our parents were heartbroken, and I swore to live by his memory; by the man he could have been. Even if I had not dated a single time, even if I was still trying to sort out my student debt by working a job I could never have loved, I was trudging through the swamp that was life, instead of speeding through it and crashing.
But it was one night, when I was sleeping alone in my little apartment, that the transmissions came back.
*Hey. Hey, bro. Did you miss me?*
"What happened to you?"
*It's not all bad down here. I got hoes too! Every day it's just fun and games. Wish you were here.*
"Let me see."
And I saw. My brother was always weak to temptations of the flesh, and at first glance I saw all his girls. But they were falling apart at the seams, some revealing vines and poison ivy like you'd see on an old mansion door, others revealing the visceral insides of a human body, and those few where only darkness stared back. My brother, restored to his full health, swigging an unknown dark liquid from a skull chalice.
*Brother, you have never had the chance to enjoy life as I have. Come join me! All you need to do is to step off that ledge. You know what, you could bring that Korean-Thai girl you like with you, she and you will come here together.*
"I still have things to do on this realm."
*What could be more important than eternal enjoyment?*
"Virtue."
At this point, all the girls recoil as though a cockroach had skittered onto the big loveseat they all shared with my brother.
"Who will take care of Mom and Dad? Who will leave his mark upon this world as a good person? I know the answer isn't you."
The wenches assemble themselves into an amorphous mass, writhing and screaming, my brother riding atop this demented tower of flesh, nearly being absorbed into it. Now I can see his true form, as he was when his truck slammed into the people he'd killed. Internal bleeding everywhere, fractures contorting his body beyond medical comprehension, and with needles stuck in him at every imaginable corner.
*You will never know the enjoyment you are sacrificing, sacrificing for an unworthy cause no less. I will find you when it is your time!*
"I can already hear the hatred in your voice. Why would you be in so much agony if you were really enjoying yourself? When it's my time, at least I will be happy."
I focus, shutting off the transmission. May his visage never haunt my dreams ever again. | 2019-02-28T23:33:06 | 2019-02-28T23:15:10 | 68 | 19 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "Yes," the official sighed, "for the last time. All you have to do is press the button."
"This doesn't make any sense. How did you know it was me?"
The government official sighed — again — and deflated a bit. I could tell he'd given up any hope of this being quick.
"You know what? Fine. Let's see. We've been doing this for..." He pauses, brow furrowing. "...500 years. Technology and society evolves. It takes a while, but we've gotten better. We know nothing next to nothing about the Chosen One, but usually, governments collaborate to find him."
I squinted at him.
A cough. "...Or her. Whoops." He grins.
I roll my eyes. "Fine. Assuming I buy that... what was the test? There's *billions* of people on this planet, there's almost no wa-"
"Anime."
"That's stupi — what? Did you just say... Anime?"
"Yes. Literally the one thing we know about the Chosen One is that they subconsciously search for, and consume, narratives that mirror their fundamental purpose. But they tend to be very specific — often aligning with characteristics you and the Dark Lord have, or will have. In your case, you watch a lot of anime. Like a lot. Like a ridiculous amount. Though I will say your cosplay's not bad, either."
I sputtered. "If you think I'm dumb enough to belie—"
"Look, Ava. Can I call you that? Or do you prefer SilverFoxStarlight76?" That grin slides across his face again, *clearly* enjoying my surprise. "Look. We're *sure.* I could run down the list — everything from the number of idiots we've had to employ to scour conventions and internet forums, to the years we've spent making sure of you *and* the Dark Lord — but I really want to get home, so I'll cut to the chase. We'll give you $5,000,000 if you push the damn button."
I'm at a loss for words. But before I could even think to say anything, my phone rings — Dad. The agent frowns, readying to say something, but I answer anyway, Fuck em'. I need the distraction anyway.
"Hey Dad! What's—"
"Ava." There's something wrong with his voice. My dad is one of the most upbeat, jubilant people I know. But not now. Right now, he sounds... off.
"Press the button."
My blood chills.
"What?"
"The money is more than enough to cover your mother's medical bills, not to mention you. Please, take it."
"Dad. How do you know any of this?"
"I'm so sorry. There isn't enough time. Just calling... was extremely difficult. I just need you to know this: everything they'll tell you about what I've done, and what I was planning to do... all of it, underneath, was fueled by my desire to help you and your mother. Most importantly: I love you." There's a gasp of pain from the other side of the line, and the most wretched, *evil* voice I have ever heard replaces my father's.
*"DON'T YOU FUCKING PRESS THAT BUTTON, YOU FUCKING BITCH. I WILL RIP YOUR SPINE OUT WITH MY OWN TWO—"*
The voice stops abruptly, and I almost drop the phone in shock.
Another beat, and my father is back.
"...there's no more time, now. Please, Ava. Press it." The line goes dead.
I slowly pull the phone from my head. The agent is eyeing my oddly. "Who was that?" he asks.
"...$5,000,000, right?" I ask, ignoring him, suddenly sure about what I have to do.
He silently pulls a check out, waves it in the air. "Yes."
I lean forward and press the button. Somehow, deep in my chest, I know dad isn't coming home tonight. | 'I have done it. I have pressed the button and defeated the Dark Lord!'
The dimly lit room was illuminated just enough to show the glum faces of the three boys lounging out across whatever comfy pieces of cushioned real estate they could find.
“This film is terrible. Turn over.”
The remote clacked and the channel changed.
“Congratulations, you have given birth to a beautiful … 7 of clubs.”
“Nurse, call security. Dr Blaine has done it again.”
The TV remote clacked again.
“This just in, man who whispers on Zoom calls just has a really small mouth. We go to Andrea with the story.”
Again, the TV remote clacked.
'They called it a bone garden and asked me how many sticks they could buy it for.' - We speak to the Louisiana man who was recently duped in to selling this cemetery to three dogs wearing a trench coat.
Clack.
“I'm Cliff Cliffington and we are entering the Finance Hour - the show where we interview the best young traders the country has to offer. Our guest today has a lot of detractors who believe he earned his money the wrong way. Ron Ronson was indeed born with a silver spoon in his mouth – there's not denying that. And yes he had knives for legs and tongs for hands. His head was a fork and he died immediately after birth but that hasn't stopped the budding entrepreneur from becoming one of the richest pieces of cutlery in America today.”
Clack.
“Today on 'Construction, Construction, Construction' we're at the Bessington Palace renovation where the Site Foreman has a major issue on his hands – a Site Fiveman has emerged.”
Clack.
“And a warm welcome to everyone at home to the 2020 COVID Olympics!” said Ken Kennington. “Whose country is the sickest? Our data scientists are here and we’re ready to turn on some ventilators.”
Clack.
“And we come to you with some shocking breaking news as the famous piece of evidence the 'Smoking Gun' has sadly passed away after years of battling lung cancer.
Clack
“I just don't understand why if you're a, say, Kim Kardashian, you don't opt for a 9mm pistol hand or a shoulder cannon when paying so much for body modifications.”
Clack.
"Hello, and welcome to a very special episode of Rogue Traders. Today we have time traveled back to 1939 France to take an in depth look at the Maginot Line."
Clack.
“And here we have a great example of an employee going the extra mile by wearing two ties to business meetings he's not invited to.”
Clack.
The boys in the room paused.
“Just put that film back on this is getting ridiculous.”
****
My back catalogue of painfully unfunny stories can be found on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them, and leave some judgement. | 2020-11-09T13:08:44 | 2020-11-09T12:10:32 | 132 | 81 |
[WP] The cute girl on the subway can’t seem to stop staring at you! This would be great, except that her clothes are several centuries out of date, no one else seems to be able to see her, and you haven’t seen her blink. Not even once. | He squeezed in through the closing door and plopped down on n empty seat, panting from his run. An old woman several seats to his right sniffed disapprovingly before returning to her book. He smiled as the train jolted into motion. *Made it*.
His gaze landed on a pair of dainty shoes under a frilly hem of a dress so long it nearly brushed the grimy floor. He looked up, his eyebrows climbing his forehead. The dress was resplendent with frills, with long wide sleeves and a flared skirt that draped over the nearby seats. Its owner was the palest woman he had ever seen, with midnight-black hair held back by a—snood, he thought it was called—and cool grey eyes.
And she was staring back at him.
His cheeks heated up, and he quickly averted his gaze. How long had he been staring? He couldn't tell. In his defense, she did make for a peculiar sight. Was this historical reenactment? Cosplay?
The train stopped at the next station, and more people rushed in. He risked a glance across and instantly found himself pinpointed by a pair of grey eyes. He held eye contact for a moment, captivated by her doll-like features, then wrenched his gaze away.
The train resumed moving. He shifted in his seat, still feeling her gaze on him. What a strange woman. Stranger yet, none of the other passengers seemed to be paying her any attention.
Swallowing, he pretended to read the advertisement above her head and hazarded another peek. *God*, she was still staring. Was she angry? He couldn't tell. Her face remained cool and emotionless, and he could have sworn she hadn't blinked once.
He pulled out his phone and stared down at the screen. From the corner of his eye, he saw her stand and approach him, her skirt swishing about her feet. He backed into his seat and stubbornly kept his gaze lowered until she stooped over him, casting a shadow over the screen.
Unable to take it any longer, he looked up. Her face was uncomfortably close, her eyes scrutinizing him unblinkingly.
"C-can I help you?" he asked.
Her brow knitted in the first display of emotion he had seen. "You can see me?" Her voice was soft and even.
"Well, sure. Can't everyone?" He chuckled nervously, then clammed up. The other passengers seemed to be sending him wary looks.
She shook her head slightly, her eyes never leaving his face. There was something so odd about her, so out-of-place in the dingy subway, that he couldn't help taking her seriously.
Mustering his courage, he addressed the old woman to his right. "Excuse me."
She faced him reluctantly. "Yes?"
"Do you see a lady in a black dress?" he asked, tipping his chin before him.
The old woman stared at him in silence, then rose and shuffled to the front of the car. The nearest passengers sidled away, muttering under their breaths. He groaned softly and rubbed his forehead. What an inconvenient timing to go insane.
The lady in black considered him for a moment and sat down beside him. He sidled one seat away. She followed without a word. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Best not acknowledge her.
Another stop. More passengers filtered in, and the car filled up, but no one acknowledged the strange lady, and neither did they attempt to sit beside him. How odd. If she wasn't real, he expected someone to take her seat. He closed his eyes and screwed up his face.
"What are you doing?" the hallucination asked.
He winced. "Trying to make you disappear."
She was silent for a moment. "Do you possess such a power?"
He snorted at the seriousness of her questing, then squeezed his eyes shut and focused some more. Cracking one eye open, he peeked at her. "Apparently not."
She nodded wistfully. "I didn't think so. It would've been convenient, though."
"Convenient?" he asked, unable to hold back his curiosity. "How so?"
"I've been around for a long time, and I haven't found a way to disappear yet."
He shivered at the melancholy in her voice. She didn't sound sad so much as detached. *Resigned*.
The train stopped once more, and people left and got on. She kept peering at him, her delicate hands clasped in her lap.
"Mine's the next stop," he said quietly.
"That's a shame." She lowered her head, breaking eye contact for the first time. "I haven't met anyone who could see me for a while."
He drummed his fingers against the seat. "Oh, what the hell," he muttered. As the train began to slow, he stood, wiped his sweaty hands on his shirt, and held one out. It somehow seemed appropriate. "Will you come with me? I'll at least hear you out."
She raised her head and blinked in surprise. For a moment, he thought she wouldn't take his hand, but then a smile curved her lips, and she laid her hand in his. "Thank you." | I think...
I think I see read people.
It makes a...certain amount of sense. From a certain point of view. Reading brings characters to life, after all. You see them in your minds eye, feel their feelings, watch them struggle and learn and grow.
We all see read people, really.
Still, more than a little disconcerting when they stick around long after the book has been set down. Their lives are simply spaces in our heads, and fleeting.
She doesn't seem to be going away, though.
There are more, I think. Things often seem to be a bit more crowded than they should be, and there have certainly been some oddly dressed people. Most do a better job of blending in than she does, but I've noticed a few recurring characters that I think I can trace to various books. I'd bet almost anything that that one salesman was Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, and I'm pretty sure that those two guys arguing about one of them having crabbaples in their cheeks were Yossarian and Orr. They're all dressed in pretty modern clothes, but that makes some sense- your minds eye might skimp on a lot of details, let the characters wear whatever would be incongruous. Your perception of them updates, isn't tied to one time so much as the *character*.
The girl is from a period piece, though. I'm pretty sure. I'm *also* pretty sure...
Feels...feels a little awkward to say, actually. But somehow, in my minds eye, I saw her as having a crush on me.
I don't know why, exactly. She's nice enough, and she was (and *is*, now) pretty enough, in my minds eye. But it's not like I had a particularly strong crush on *her*. Just...something about her made her seem as though she'd be crazy about me if she actually met me. We assign odd characteristics to characters, sometimes. Makes them seem more full, more human.
Here's the thing, though- they're *not*. Humans are *complicated*, full of twisting emotions and desires and a bunch of stuff that, to be perfectly frank, frequently makes no damn sense whatsoever. This one person has a talent for baking scones but can't bake anything else somehow, and has memorized chapter three of book three of the Harry Potter series because they had to do some crazy school assignment about it, and none of that *matters* but it's still part of who they *are*.
People are complicated.
And I couldn't make full-fledged *people*, not even with an authors help. A talented painter can make an incredible image of a mountain, complete with happy little trees, but image is not reality, and they can't conjure a mountain from nothing any more than you or I can.
Had I created them? Pale images conjured within my mind, given shadowy form in reality, cursed to wander forever, snapshots lost without context, searching for fleeting meaning?
I mean, I *hope* not.
Still, the alternative isn't exactly pretty. Something in my mind has broken a little. Or more than a little.
Difficult to deal with, but more possible than dealing with actual phantoms. Step one was to see a psychiatrist, learn what to do from an expert.
Fortunately, I was able to breeze through, get an appointment the very day that I inquired. A little odd, but it makes sense- you don't want to leave serious mental issues on the back burner. Not least because you never know how long clarity may last.
I sat down, and described my symptoms in detail- what I had thought I'd seen, and what I thought was going on.
"You think *you've* got problems? What about *my* problems?"
Funny how I'd managed to get so far without actually learning the doctors *name*. A quick check revealed the truth- I was talking to doc Daneeka.
This may prove harder to deal with than I thought. | 2022-04-07T09:52:25 | 2022-04-07T07:57:29 | 79 | 49 |
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