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[WP] You're an immortal. She is a time traveller. Every now and then, you two pop into each other lives. | Just how long had it been? Can't recall; You tend to lose track of time after a few centuries pass. I remembered seeing her a while ago, though. Always near the important bits in history. It's funny, you know. Having lived for so long, I've seen history actually unfold -- hell, I've *been* parts of history.
You get to see patterns as they emerge, and this one...she was definitely something else. Our last meeting was a bit tense. She tried to kill me, I couldn't die. You can see where that went. I decided to lay low after that, convinced people I really *had* died. I figure that's the way it needed to happen.
Anyway, seeing her, I knew something big had to be going on soon. I figured it'd be nice to get some answers; I didn't know when -- or if -- I'd be seeing her again. Five minutes later, I was sitting down with her in the big city, having a cup of coffee in the early hours.
"So...", I began. "What exactly are you?"
"I could ask you the same. No matter when I am, you look almost exactly how you did before."
"You too. Immortal as well, or..?"
She chuckled. It was nice to hear. Definitely a better impression than the last.
"No, no, nothing like that. I see how you came to that conclusion, though."
She looked troubled. A hint of pain crossed her face for a moment. Something was on her mind, obviously.
"I'm, uh...not really supposed to tell anyone anything. It'd mess with the bigger picture, and things could sorta unravel here and there, but you...I think I can trust you with a secret. I'm sure you've got plenty of your own."
"I have a few stories."
She chuckled again. Definitely good to hear.
"I'm part of a temporal task unit. Think of us like white blood cells for time. We..."
I waited as she went through the words to herself. Something as big as that, it takes a while. I knew.
"It's like time has injuries that we need to patch up; It's just that we can't really *heal* them. The damage is already there and we can't do anything to change the flow, but we can help a little bit, make things not so bad."
"Huh. Not as simple as I was thinking, but...yeah, that's pretty cool."
"Cool, huh? I think so, too. It's what made me decide to do it."
"Mmh. So, I wanna get something straight. You...are...a time traveler."
"And you're immortal."
It was my turn to chuckle. She smiled back.
"Right, you got it. And you fix up some incidents. Big incidents that time itself can't heal."
"That's the gist of it."
"Uh huh. Figures why you're always at some pretty important bits."
"Oh! You remember me?"
"Kinda hard to forget the face of the gal who *tried* to kill me."
"Uh, sorry about that. Knowing what you know now, I hope it's easier to understand?"
"No trouble; I've already gotten past it."
We sat in silence for a little bit, each probably thinking about the other's story. Well, I mean, I know I did. Hard to really grasp at the time, but I came to terms with it.
I was the first to break the silence. "So something big's happening. Today."
She sighed. "In a few hours."
"Nah, let's not talk about that. You've got enough worry. Let's talk about you."
She waited as I pushed the words around in my head. Things like that take a while. She knew.
"When are you from?"
"...the end of time."
I stared at her.
"Yeah, see? I knew I'd get that look. Unbelievable, right? Right, well, we had the technology hundreds of centuries ago, but stuff was still going on. You can't get a good bead on what's bad or not while you're still *in* history. So, we had to wait until the end of time to do a proper job."
I couldn't think of the right words to say. No amount of pushing them around was going to make it easy. Good thing she kept going.
"It's sorta lonely, I'll admit. We know nothing more is going to happen, ever. Almost takes the fun away from living. But! I get to experience so many different time periods. I get to meet new people, see new things, explore SO many different worlds, so it makes up for it."
"Sometimes," she continued,"when I have the free time, I like to go out to a nice little spot, a couple of millennia ahead of here and a couple of galaxies away, to this beautiful little ocean planet. There's so many wonders there; I never get tired of looking at it."
She smiled at me, probably happy that she had an equal to talk to in one of these time periods.
"I hope I get to see it one day," I said with a wink.
A small beep interrupted us. She looked down at her wrist, noting the time.
"Damn, sorry. I've got to go. It'll be soon, and I need to be in position."
I wasn't finished. I wanted more answers. I wanted to talk more.
"You gonna come around some more? Maybe come by for a chat when you have the free time?"
She nodded, considering it.
"Yeah...I'll save your coordinates."
She fiddled with her gadget for a moment. Then she turned back to me.
"I didn't think about it, but you must get lonely too. You actually have to live through all these centuries...I can see why you want to talk with someone who understands."
She waved goodbye, and that was the last I saw of her.
--------------------------------------------
That was...the last I saw of her. Ever. I get the feeling something bad happened that day. It was huge. All over the news. Something about a bunch of bombs...cleared out about 30 city blocks. It's -- I can't get it off my mind. I've had eons to think about this. Literal eons. I watched the world end. I watched the galaxy end. I witnessed the eventual heat death of the universe, and here I am, and I *still* can't stop thinking about it.
The guy sitting across from me stares again. The information pad he has in front of him has slowly filled up. Makes sense. I've got a lot of stories, after all.
"It checks out, that's for sure. You've..."
The guy laughs. "You've really come a long way. I just can't wrap my head around why this woman would stick in your mind for so long."
I don't know either. There's something nagging at me, some bit of the puzzle I need to make sense of. Something she said.
"Look, she said -- she said that you guys were like white blood cells."
The guy nods. He's heard this before. He knows.
"And you guys are supposed to help patch up time. She's been doing a lot of patching. If my memory holds, she's been doing a *lot* of patching. And I've been doing a lot of living."
I think I know.
"Maybe it's my turn. Maybe there's an injury in time that *I'm* supposed to heal."
The guy nods at me. He sees sense.
"She left on that exact same mission you talked about maybe two hours ago. I can put you down on her coordinates at...Plus-Thirty minutes. I just hope you're wrong about all this."
I nod. I hope I'm wrong too. In case I'm not, then I can do more this time. I know more now.
And if I fail?
I think I won't mind seeing another few eons to have another crack at it. | “I think I want to try having children,” Alex said, her fingers entwined in her lover’s hair. She said it laconically, lazy with summer’s heat.
“Hmmm, you might have to branch out then.” Tessa rolled over and grinned at her wife. “Maybe take a lifeguard under your wing?”
Alex shoved her gently in the shoulder. “With you, you big smush.”
Tessa laughed. “I’m not sure I have the right equipment.” She kissed the smooth skin on Alex’s neck, then between her breasts, then her belly, and looked up playfully. “Practice makes perfect, I’ve heard, so if you want to give it a proper go…”
Alex laughed again, and then moaned as Tessa pulled down her shorts. “I meant,” Alex said, placing a hand between Tessa’s mouth and her more tender areas. “Adopt. Or go to a fertility clinic.”
The smile seemed to drip from Tessa’s face. “You’re being serious?” An eyebrow arched, and Alex smiled, strained. “Alex, I don’t think that would be… wise.”
“Why not?”
Tessa looked around at their beautiful cabin, hidden in the middle of a forest, and sighed. This was not what she had expected.
“This place, it’s not our world. These people, not our people. I can’t stay here with you and be a parent to a child.”
Alex’s lips pouted. “I don’t see why not.”
“Because, my darling, I still have work to do.” Tessa sighed, and pinched her forehead as she searched for the words to explain. “If I could come straight back, it might work. But most of the time you’d be a single parent. You’d have to give up the bevvy of loves you keep when I’m gone, for one.”
“How many times must I tell you, there is no bevvy? There is only you. And a child would keep me company while you were gone.” Alex was plucking at the cover now, and Tessa knew it was for comfort. It was the only tick she seemed to have never shaken.
Tessa went to her, tilted her mouth up to her own, and placed a gentle kiss on her. “The child would grow up with only one parent, and a person who dropped in and out. I’m not sure I could share you like that, not permanently. And I’d get jealous of the bond you would have with the child. It simply won’t work.”
Alex was still pouting, staring up into Tessa’s blue eyes, and Tessa frowned. She recognised that pout from Rome, when Alex had managed to persuade a certain Roman courtier to bequeath her this land.
No man had ever been able to resist Alex. Tessa barely could, convinced it was only that Alex never brought her full power to bear upon her that saved her. Alex had admitted early on that she could never have a real relationship with someone she had bewitched – that she was always wondering what was real, whether they were willingly choosing her.
It had been that promise to never use her powers against Tessa that had convinced her she wanted to try this odd relationship. For Tessa, it was easy – every time she finished a job she came to find Alex and spent a week or more holed up in this beautiful cabin. The most time she ever spent without her beautiful, long-legged companion was a month.
But for Alex…
Suddenly Tessa realised what her mission was costing Alex, and the thought made her pull away. Her hand fell from Alex’s face, and Alex grabbed it, desperately pressing it against her cheek.
“Don’t pull away. I’m sorry I ever suggested it. I won’t again. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
Tessa sighed. The neediness made sense now. So much was falling into place.
“I’m not angry, my doll.” She said, sliding her fingers through Alex’s hair. “Come here.”
Alex came to her, pressing her face in between her breasts in a way that maximised the skin contact between them. She had seen all her other lovers wane and die, and for that reason in pure years, Tessa was her longest ever relationship. It was strange, however, because for Tessa it had been a fraction of that time, years rather than centuries.
Funny how time travelling wrecked your relationships.
“If it will make you happy,” Tessa began, “Then yes, let us adopt a child. But we must plan carefully how it will work, what responsibilities I will have.”
“Really?” Alex’s face lit up with pleasure – really lit up, her cheeks glowing. “Do you mean it? Are you sure? I don’t mind if you want to think about it first, for a little while.”
“No, my love.” Tessa wasn’t sure that this was the best thing to do – it required paperwork, bureaucracy. She wasn’t even sure Alex had a National Identification Card, she’d been here so long. She sighed and rubbed her hand over her face, and Alex rolled her eyes up to watch her do it. “I’ll figure something out.”
Alex stretched out as though she were a cat, her feet clawing in the air, and for a moment Tessa was reminded of the way lions stretched after a kill sleep. She held her tongue, but wondered for the first time why Alex needed acres of forest to hide herself in while Tessa was gone, why sometimes she would wake up to Alex returning to the cabin, barefoot and laughing and naked.
She forced the thoughts away, and pulled her up to kiss her instead, fiercly this time, claiming her, strangeness and all. Alex was wild and free and from a time before computers had ever existed – Tessa had been born after the great space flights, and yet, thanks to her specialist training, had seen dinosaurs walk the earth.
Alex had existed even before that.
There was a beep, pulling Tessa from her reverie and sending her grabbing for the side table. “I guess we can pick up this conversation soon?” She asked, scrambling from the bed and into the uniform she had folded ready. “I’ll be back in…” she checked the information on the pager and scowled, “20 years, give or take. Is that alright?”
She kissed Alex on the forehead, hard, like she wanted to leave an imprint, and jogged out of the door and towards a safe location to rip a portal into the fabric of the world.
At the edge of the woods she glanced back, to see Alex standing, body half hidden by the doorframe, tears shimmering against her cheeks. She cursed, turned, and continued on her jog. Duty calls.
| 2018-05-05T12:18:54 | 2018-05-05T12:18:22 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] After an apocalypse, Death is desperately trying to help the last group of survivors so he doesn't lose his job. | Death’s job had gotten quite stale the last thousand years or so. In the early days of humanity, he made it a game, taking the form of a pretty lady or a crying baby to lead someone away, into the woods or towards a desert where he would take them back to their maker. Of course, doing this for thousands of years was a little much, even for Death. He had become much more orderly, requesting an office and a staff to compile a list of those he needed to bring in that day. He had seen every way a human could be killed, and had brought all their souls back with him.
For a while his job had gotten very hectic. Radiation, famine, war, disease, all of this was making his job Hell. It wasn’t his job to ask questions, just to take souls, and he continued to do his job dutifully. Worrying about living wasn’t his problem.
“Death, I need you to come see me in my office today,” Death heard over the intercom. *Great*, he thought. *Gabe and his damn micromanaging*.
Death got up from his cushy office chair, and looked at his phone. 8:30. In other words, too early. He turned off the screen, and caught his own reflection in it. He was looking especially bony lately, it seemed to him. After examining the definition of his cheekbones for a bit, Death headed out the door to meet with Gabe up on the 6th floor.
Death came in without a knock, and eased into one of the chairs in front of Gabriel. Gabriel’s office was lavish, a perk of being the Boss’s secretary. The ceiling had been decorated by the soul of Michelangelo himself. Beautiful rugs were laid together, covering the floor. A couple of Gabriel’s greatest achievements were shown off in paintings on the walls.
“You’ve lost that spring in your step, huh Death?” Gabriel asked, smiling. Gabriel was a good looking guy, or at least this persona of him was. He usually took the form of a young man, wearing a nice, tucked in light-blue button down, and dark blue dress pants. His blonde hair was parted in the middle and tucked away behind his ears. “Well anyways, I asked you to come so we could talk about work. You know, you’ve brought in a lot of souls lately.”
“Well, yes, there’s a lot people,” was Death’ s response.
“Well, there were a lot of people,” Gabriel said. “So we need to talk about your job for a bit. You think you could, well, help people for a bit? Keep them alive instead of taking their souls?”
Death gave a tight-lipped smile that showed no friendliness. He leaned forward and looked at the things on Gabriel’s desk. A coffee mug, a telephone, a few books. No camera. He got up and looked around the room, trying to find one. Maybe even a recording device. This was a joke, and he needed to get back to work.
“I know what you’re thinking Death,” Gabriel said to him. “This isn’t something I would usually ask you, but, well, we’ve run into a problem of sorts. So, the Boss has been away for a little vacation with his son. You know him, always complaining about not seeing his dad ever. Anyways, they’ve been out of town, and I couldn’t really hold down the fort like he expected me to.” Gabriel twiddled his thumbs. He met Death’s glare for a moment, and quickly turned away. “So, I just need you to stop killing people for a bit.”
“And help them live?” Death asked. His voice was filled with surprise and annoyance. “That’s not my job Gabe. That’s like asking you to kill someone. You know you can’t do it.”
“Well, we’ve never been in this situation before. Look, you know what the boss is going to say if he gets back and finds us in this situation. He’ll kick us both out. We’ll be done for. He can make new helpers. We have to combine forces for a bit, Death.” Gabriel was pleading for his help. Death couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.
“And how would I help with this, Gabe? Everything I touch dies.”
“See, that’s how you can help.” Gabriel said. “They need food. Kill a deer or two near their camps and place them in traps for them. They need to avoid some of the more vicious animals, like bears, lions or wolves. So maybe you could bring the souls of some of those guys back to me? Just make their lives a little bit easier, you know? By killing things.”
Death sat back down at Gabriel’s desk, thinking. This didn’t seem so bad to him. Taking souls could get old after several millennia. This was very different from what he was used to. And Death felt he could use a change.
“You know what Gabe? I’ll do it. I’ll save some humans for you. But look, I want a better office, okay? I mean, it’s kind of bland in there.”
“Done.”
“And I need a coffee machine too alright? I get tired too, you ever think of that?”
“Okay, done.”
“And some vacation days now and then. And a raise. And be generous with it, or I might start giving out hugs to some villagers.”
Gabriel shook his head, muttering “You got it, Death.” | "Ah, shit. Shit." Death muttered, wiping the dirt and dust off his cloak. "Ah, fuck." He exclaimed, nearly hitting a building. "Jesus, I really need to talk to the big man about these flight controls.." He said, making a series of quick turns. "Alright. Let's see.." Death whispered to himself, going through an endless list. "Hyrell Nuclear Power." He said, looking up from the list and quickly parking in what remained of the area. After he had exited his vehicle, he wasted no time getting to the front door of the building. "HEY! HEY! YOU!" Death screamed in an echoing, gravelly voice. The small group of survivors quickly turned around, with the leader firing a short burst of bullets at him in fear. Death stopped, and looked at his torn cloak. "Oh. Nice. Thanks, shithead." He said, staring at the leader with his empty sockets. The leader managed to put a sentence together. "W-who..who are you?" Death rolled his nonexistent eyes. "Seriously? You can't tell?" He said, motioning towards himself. "Cloak of darkness, skeleton, voice of a demon? Big ass scythe?!" The leader lowered his gun. "N-no.." the leader spoke. Death sighed. "I'M DEATH, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" He quickly exclaimed, his voice booming. "Christ.." Death muttered, holding his forehead. "Alright, you shitskulls. I'm here to save you." He said, rage in his voice. "You retards thought it would be a great idea to run into a nuclear power plant that hasn't been maintained for a couple of years. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, because your dumb machines would take care of the situation. But, because some fucking survivor came and stole all of the water, which means there's no coolant. The worker robots, knowing this, have to cool down the plant. They decide to use the liquid nitrogen inside of them. But, because of the fact that liquid nitrogen is the shittiest coolant ever, it produces toxic gas and barely cools it down. So that means hundreds of bots are gone each day, and the toxic gas is all over the plant. Oh, and the plant is going to melt down today." The group stared at him. "How do you know all this?" An old man asked. "Because I'm **fucking death**." Death said, little flickers of flame in the corners of his sockets. "Anyway, stay out of the goddamn plant." He said, pointing at the building. A young child popped out of the small crowd. "Why are you helping us, mister?" She asked, head tilted to the side. Death put his hands in his pockets. "Eh, because ^I'd^lose^my^job." The crowd quickly looked at each other in confusion. "What?" The leader asked. Death kicked a rock. "Cause I'd l^o^s^e^my^job.." He muttered. The leader yelled. "Just cut the shit!" Death looked up. "I'D LOSE MY JOB!" Death yelled back. The group started to get angry. "So you just care about yourself?" Someone yelled from the crowd. "Yeah, I do." Death said. "Well that's a dick move!" They yelled again. "YOU KNOW YOUR MOM WENT TO HELL BECAUSE SHE KICKED DOGS, RIGHT?!" Death screamed at the mystery man. "Anyway. You fuckwits need to head to New York. Mass graves there. I can bring some back to life, and you can fuck and save humanity." The leader stood there, face in hand. "You know New York is hundreds of miles away? And that the path is full of mutants and monsters?" Death nodded. "Well, then you'll need an escort. The scythe isn't just for show, pal." Death said, spinning the scythe. "Man, I fuckin' love doing that." The leader turned back towards the crowd. "Well, you heard him. Let's get going." The leader said, motioning for the group to follow. Their journey had begun.
"Is no one going to mention the fact that we're going to fuck dead people?" Asked a passerby.
Made by /u/Nuclear-Sloth
Sequels done by popular request
Subreddit coming soon! | 2017-08-11T07:58:07 | 2017-08-11T07:19:40 | 218 | 65 |
[WP] It's been almost two years since people stopped dying, and five months since we started to burn the ones that should.
*Edit: This prompt is originally inspired by Jose Saramago's "Death with Interruptions," though I don't remembered any burning in that book. This is in no way intended to be related to any Torchwood plot, a show I've never watched.* | I don't think kids ever understood the feeling of dying. Sure, they understood the *concept* of dying; a dog dies and they don't come around anymore, a fish dies and he goes to join his brothers and sisters in the ocean. But a human dying? That was lost on them. And well now, that concept is lost on just about everyone in the world.
Two years ago, people stopped dying. It was an overnight phenomena. People with incurable diseases started to get better, those terminally ill became just ill and then eventually healthy. Disease was cured in a day. Cancer became nonexistent in a week. And the biggest killers in the world became duds within a month. It was a new and exciting world, where everyone was immortal.
A year and a half ago, researchers made crazy advances in science. Without the issue of death to diseases, researchers began to make crazy leap in applied sciences with human test subjects. Eventually, they thought about heading up to the stars and the researchers began dangerous feats of science. Nuclear propulsion theory became a reality and the world was on the verge of scientific breakthroughs.
Life was, for the most part, great. People didn't worry about dying, the global economy started to boom, and people were doing their part to make a better world. No one wanted to blast each other to hell because well, at this point what was the point? We could now mine all the resources we needed, grow all the food we wanted, and nations that would have gone to war with each other before the Change, we're working together to go back to the moon, and to Mars, and to every world in the system.
For a *single* year (plus one month), humanity was making strides as immortals.
Until the fires started. No one really knows who lit the first match, but everyone knows what happened five months ago. A Retirement home in Northern Texas was lit a flame, and all four hundred and nineteen inhabitants were burned. To death. They were the first deaths in this world. Mostly elderly, a few nurses, receptionists, and doctors that had their whole *immortal* life ahead of them. And in an instant, in one single fire, they were turned to ash.
Some people said it was the elderly people themselves that lit the fire; that they couldn't live in a world where people could live forever. It was too much for them, stuck in their ways, people who had seen the atrocities of war that people were already forgetting. Some people still say it was that, but most of the world knows the real culprits.
Fires started across the globe the day after the Retirement Home. Thousands were being killed every day, dying in the worst way imaginable. The slow and painful death of fire.
A group started to take responsibility for the attacks. A few thousand people in some more *radical* countries who began talking nonsense about the cleansing of Fire. That the world we lived in could not be sustained and that the way out, the only true way to die, was to burn. To become ash, and to rejoin the Earth from where we came. They claimed our world was vile, wrong, and deserved to burn.
Pyromaniac cults began popping up in smaller cities. The churches were the first to go. I remember hearing the chants, *There is no God of Immortal Men.* It spread through the streets, just as the fire did. Men and women laying down and accepting the faith that the Pyros were giving them. A year of immortality made some men crazy, it made others mad.
The bigger cities came later. London burned in four days, Rome in three, and Moscow in seven. The winter made it hard for the Pyros to gain traction, but they did. The fire caught, and the people lost.
New York City fell a week after Moscow, but I remember seeing the graffiti before the Burning. The single phrase that became a rallying call around the world, *Some men just want to watch the world burn.* It was simple enough to get the resistance together. And luckily, the pyros hadn't burn down all the fire stations in the city.
I was one of the first to join up. I couldn't fight, like the rest of the men and women. I had been crippled before the Change, and not even immortality could help me walk again. But I had the power of the word, the power of history. And when the ash finally does settle, the Pyromaniacs will have burned in their own gasoline, and the Resistance will lead the Immortal Men to a new world, a world that was not put to the torch.
There may not be a God to immortal men, but we can become our own Gods. We have the power of eternity.
None of us will let that go without a fight.
_________
*Fantastic prompt! If you enjoyed this story, check out /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work about humanity and immortals, specifically an immortal Roman.* | I've had cancer for over six years now. Surgery, radiation, chemotherapy... I've been through all of them. Each one gave me a brief glimmer of hope that I could have my body back someday. I'm only 59, after all. But none of them ever panned out. I've gotten used to that expression on the doctor's face when he comes in with the test results. He looks down at the paper because he can't bear to look me in the eyes, lest he give it away before he has a chance to flex those bedside manner muscles.
The latest round of chemo failed. The tumors were uncontrollable now, grown so large that I could see them bulging through my skin. A few years ago, it would have been more than enough to kill me. But now, nothing can. There's really no explanation for what happened, but death has simply stopped. Gunshot victims didn't bleed out anymore, they just kept on going until their wounds healed up. And cancer patients... well, we just kept limping along. Some people call it magic, others say that it's a sign of the apocalypse. That we're really living in Hell. I don't know about all that; I was expecting more fire and brimstone.
"It's time we talked about your long-term options," Doctor Samuels told me. The euphemism wasn't particularly subtle: he was talking about fire. The closest I could come to death now was to burn. Simultaneously destroy my organs and blood so that I couldn't regenerate. I could heal from wounds or fight off a virus, but with cancer, the longer I stuck around the worse it would get.
"I've been thinking about it a lot," I responded. "I'm ready." Choosing to die wasn't an easy decision. I'd talked about it with Howard for a long time. He'd wanted me to keep fighting, naturally, but I was just done. My body had degraded to the point where there was just no quality of life anymore. Death may have stopped, but pain and suffering had not.
My family and friends were all informed of my choice. My husband came by after work and sat with me as he always did, holding my hand. He was only still with me because of this 'no more death' thing; that car accident last year had mangled him pretty badly. But he pulled through pretty well, thank god. The kids flew in from the East coast. Luke goes to college out there, and Rose is working in New York now. So glad that I got to see them all grown up. My coworkers came by for one last goodbye, as did a bunch of my friends.
There was a ceremony in the crematorium. Like a funeral, except that I was there to look them in the eyes. To give them all hugs and kisses. I gave a nice speech about how much they all mean to me, and how grateful I was to have them in my life. And I didn't even choke up once, though Howard was blubbering like a baby. We all had cake, like it was my birthday. I was half expecting someone to get out candles.
Then the time came to lie down on that cold metal table mounted on the front of the furnace. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, already able to feel the heat. Half of me wanted to jump off and keep going, but I pushed the fear back down. It was time. It had been time for a while now.
The attendant slid me into the furnace, and the flames licked at my skin. I gave Howard one last loving smile as my body burned away. He waved, still crying his eyes out. Maybe we were actually in Hell; here was the fire, after all. But if it was Hell.... I guess it wasn't so bad.
| 2016-05-02T06:21:34 | 2016-05-02T05:23:06 | 449 | 304 |
[WP] When a wizard dies all his active spells ceases to exist, regardless of how long ago he cast them, or how powerful. | The man lay on his death bed, smiling at the young pretty nurse in spite of the great deal of pain he was in.
“Mr. Lovecraft, please try to lie still while I administer this shot. It will help to ease the pain.”
“Nothing will ease my pain as much as the touch of your cool fingers, my dear.”
Howard Phillips Lovecraft suffered from terminal cancer of the small intestine. It was compounded by years of malnutrition, and now he was days - even hours- from death at the relatively young age of 46. He had lived what he thought was a full life, though his writing would not become commercially popular for another 30 years. He was, however, well regarded within his own literary circle, and even held up to a sort of golden standard comparable to that of Poe.
He now wished he had been a bit more forward with his tales of fantasy and fiction. Given the way he delivered his Mythos of C’thulu, Dagon and the Deep Ones, it’s no wonder nobody really took him seriously. He chuckled and comforted himself with his favorite thought – the most comforting thing he could muster in his 11’th hour – “No great artist is appreciated in his own time.” With this he exhaled deeply and closed his eyes. The nurse looked at him with concern.
“Mr. Lovecraft?” After a long pause he decided to answer,
“My Dear, I have something very important to tell you.”
“What’s that Mr. Lovecraft?”
He inhaled deeply again, but this time no words came out. A slight smile curled at the corners of his lips as he unconsciously exhaled his final breath – a death rattle. The nurse squeezed his hand as she heard a low rumble in the distance.
| By the seventh day God completed His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done. Then God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because in it He rested from all His work which God had created and made. But God grew weary, and saw that all was good and saw that he was not needed, and so he fell into an eternal rest, death. But what God did not know, a secret that not even an omniscient wizard like himself would know is that when a wizard dies all his active spells ceases to exist, regardless of how long ago he cast them, or how powerful. | 2015-02-06T06:38:29 | 2015-02-06T03:34:24 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You meet God before reincarnation and you discover that there is a prestige system going on. In your previous incarnations you chose to improve weirdly specific stats. | Who am I?
It sounded like a simple question, but it wasn't. I knew, now, that I've lived many lives before this one. Nineteen in total. I had no memory of any of them, but the ones before me all faced this choice, and made it *together,* united for the first and last time in a single moment.
I never knew them. They never knew each other. They would never know me.
*Of your past lives I shall not speak,* said the archangel Metatron, a figure of golden fire with six wings like rays of sunlight.
My mother was Jewish. She told me once about a rabbi from the first century named Elisha ben Abuyah. Apparently he ascended to Heaven while still alive, where he stood before the choir of all the angels in Heaven. All of those angels were standing, except Metatron who was seated and quietly recorded the words of their meeting. Elisha said that only God could be so privileged as to sit while all of Heaven was standing at attention, and so Metatron must be God, or maybe a *second* God. I think my mom lost something in translation there, but that's the story. And of course that was heretical, so the angels chucked him back down to Earth.
Lots of interesting stories about that Elisha guy, from what I hear. But I learned my lesson from his example, and didn't say anything about Metatron sitting in front of me.
I had a choice to make. Strength, Dexterity, Vitality, Wisdom, Intelligence, Charisma. If my choice were simply to pick one of those six options, like a game, it would be so much simpler. But each of the six titles opened up a vast list of more specific options. The label of *Wisdom* was highlighted blue to indicate my previous selves had added their points to this branch.
Nineteen times I had lived, died and come to this place. Nineteen times I had chosen to place my one point in the node labeled *Wisdom: Comprehension(Holy)*. The cap on this stat was twenty.
So I didn't know why they had done it, why this path had been started for us, but at least *my* choice was obvious.
"You... already know what I'm going to choose," I said to the proxy of God. Maybe it was my current nineteen points that made it so clear to me.
*Yes,* said the Archangel Metatron.
"What's going to happen to me when I do?" I asked. "This is going to be the last time; I can guess that much." Twenty points in the path I'd chosen would activate a passive perk, *Enlightenment.* There was no description. "But when I'm born again this time... what happens to me?"
*You have already chosen,* said the angel, *And you are about to be reincarnated. I could answer your question, but my answer makes no difference.*
Nineteen points in *Comprehension(Holy)* told me the Voice of God just didn't lie.
"Somehow this feels more like dying than my actual death did." I wasn't really talking to Metatron, just letting the words fall out of me. "I still have all my memories from my last life, but when I assign this point, all of that will go away. It feels like I'm *choosing* it this time, like to push this button is suicide."
God said nothing. Those eyes of golden fire burned through me, and yet didn't burn me.
"Who was I?" I asked. "In my past lives, what was I like? Was I anything like me at all?"
*You asked these questions,* said Metatron. *You made this choice. This is who you are.*
"Was I a good person?"
*Yes,* said God.
I started to cry. I couldn't tell if I had eyes to cry with in Heaven, or if it was just something a disembodied soul could do on its own. I felt tears on my cheeks, but it could have just been soul juice or something. Nineteen points weren't enough to tell the difference.
So I chose from the list as I had nineteen times before, and the label of *Enlightenment* went from grey to blue.
I was born, and opened my eyes.
I saw Heaven.
Suddenly I understood. I remembered what my first self had wanted to do all those centuries before, I remembered siding with myself eighteen times in succession, I remembered the choice getting steadily easier as that one stat continued to rise and it became clear that the meta-me had a plan.
I was still crying. The doctors couldn't tell that I was crying for a different reason than babies usually cry for. They didn't have to understand. I was looking up from Earth and I could *still see Heaven.*
I had to grow up. I had to do it quickly. This was the life where I would tell everyone the truth.
...
>If you like this, go read [Unsong](http://unsongbook.com/) | God tapped the sign again. *No Existential Questions.* “How many times?”
“Apologies, I just-”
“I get it, I really do. But can you imagine if I gave you an answer? You’d freak. Trust me. I tried it once, and the world had to deal with David Blaine. I won’t make that mistake again. Now, would you fill out the form already? There’s a queue forming, you know.” God took another sip from a mug with the words *You Don’t Have to be a Deity to Work Here, But it Helps* emblazoned on its side and continued to type.
Daniel looked down at the form and squinted at the ludicrously small print. *Why the fuck is this print so small?* He thought. “We’re saving on paper,” said God. *Of course. He wrote my mind; it follows that he can probably read it too.* “Very good, Daniel. Now - the form.”
*Number of rebirths: 17. Points available: 34.* *Please choose carefully. Points are irredeemable. By signing, you consent to a MemoryWipe™ immediately after your appointment.*
This was all fairly standard stuff. Daniel was surprised to learn that this was his seventeenth time, but it could’ve been his 117th time and he’d be none the wiser. *MemoryWipe™* was mercilessly thorough.
“Don’t forget to turn over.” God had began to eat a biscuit, and small crumbs shot out of his mouth as he spoke and embedded themselves into the poster-covered walls of the small office. Daniel flipped the sheet, and found that a grid covered most of the page. At the top of the page, typed in black ink, a title: *PREVIOUS POINTS ALLOCATION.*
This was intriguing to Daniel. His past 16 incarnations had sat in this chair already. Each with nothing more than wiped memories, wiped hearts and blank minds. And yet, all of them *were him.* He wanted luck. Lots of luck. That’s what his advisor had urged, and that’s what he wanted most. It stood to reason that each of his previous selves had wanted exactly the same thing. His eyes scanned the table, finally fixing on *Luck - 0 points.* 0 points? *ZERO POINTS*? God had looked up from his computer, though he said nothing.
Daniel’s eyes continued to scan.
*LOVE - 0 points.*
*COMPASSION - 0 points.*
*HOPE - 0 points.*
His cheeks began to redden and his temples flared. Where *were* his points. His stare was frantic now, surging up and down the lines of the table like an electrical current on a wire grid. *MERCY - 0. GRATITUDE - 0. FISHING - 0.*
Then, in the bottom-right corner, he saw them.
*AIM - 77 Points.*
*STRENGTH - 89 Points.*
*SPEED - 79 Points.*
For the first time in his newest life, he felt his heart beat hard and fast. God placed his mug carefully on its coaster and clasped his hands together. Daniel’s attention remained fixed on the sheet of paper.
*BRUTALITY - 97 Points.*
*CYNICISM - 103 Points.*
*BLOODTHIRST - 109 Points.*
At last, Daniel looked up. God was looking back. Daniel didn’t need to ask, for God already knew his question. His heart felt like it was trying to work its way up his throat and out of his body. Then, God spoke. “The best assassins don’t need luck, Daniel.”
Daniel stared blankly at his maker. His maker stared back, and then held out a closed fist, unfurling it slowly in front of him.
“Biscuit?”
\*\*\*\*
**I have a subreddit - it's** r/StoriesAreFunRight **for those interested!** | 2019-01-24T07:53:40 | 2019-01-24T07:34:12 | 1,941 | 119 |
[WP]'The old avatars had it easy with 4 elements. You, on the other hand,' she sneered while handing me a periodic table, 'have 118'. | I stood beside Master Turuk at the Avatar training ground deep in the mountains. I let my eyes pass slowly over the snow-covered peaks around me, glittering in the afternoon sun. At least I'm fortunate enough to be training in a beautiful place, I thought. At the rate this is going, I have plenty of time to look at these mountains.
"Your training is progressing very nicely, Avatar Shang." The old master smiled down at me, his mouth framed by a gray goatee. His thin body was draped in his traditional robe, dyed richly with red and yellow.
"Nicely, right." I sighed. "What are we on, now? Nineteen?"
"Eighteen," Turuk corrected. "And we have nearly completed it. All that remains is for one final demonstration of your knowledge of argon-bending. Go on, show me what you have learned."
"Right," I said, and furrowed my brow in concentration. I held my hands out, sensing and capturing argon from the air around me. My clothes and hair rippled slightly as the air around me was disturbed. I couldn't see the results of my bending, but I could feel it. "There, Master Turuk. I have it."
"I see that you do. Well done, young Avatar. You have mastered argon-bending."
"This is pointless," I complained, releasing the argon I had captured back into the air. "What can I even do with argon-bending? Do I *really* have to learn all 118 elements? How many of these are going to be useful?"
Turuk scowled down at me. "You speak too rashly, young Avatar. You must understand that there is a balance between all 118 elements. You represent that balance. Every element has a role to play in this world, a role no more or less important than the others. Just ask the citizens of Argon Nation."
I sighed. "I understand, master. So, what makes argon so useful?"
Turuk smiled down at me. "Thermal insulation in energy-efficient windows, my son."
I stared up at Turuk. I wanted to cry.
"Now, it is time for us to move on, young Avatar. Move on to element number nineteen. You will now master potassium-bending."
"Potassium..." I croaked.
Turuk cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Bring in the bananas!" | "Wait," I said looking down at the sheet of paper that the woman had slipped into my hands, "are you seriously telling me that the avatar's powers are directly tied to our knowledge of what an element is?"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't see fire on this table," I explained. I adjusted my glasses, I'd majored in chemistry but I hadn't done anything close to bending, "I see ways to light fire on this table."
"Then yes," the woman said as she adjusted her ceremonial robes. She was dressed like a racist movie from the 80's. "At least I think so."
"So-" I asked, "what do I need to do?" I asked. I'd heard the legends of the old Avatars, but I'd figured that they were myths. It all sounded like an old wives tale.
"We need you to make sure that there is balance in the world, nobody else can bend all of these elements, so it shouldn't be that-"
"Do the leaders know that I exist?" I cut her off.
"Yes."
"Then this should be easy."
"Why?"
"Do you really want to fuck with someone who can carbon bend?" I raised an eyebrow at her.
"What does carbon let you control?" She was obviously just a messenger.
I slowly clenched my hand into a fist. "Pretty much everything," I sneered. Balance in all things. | 2016-01-23T15:08:05 | 2016-01-23T14:59:18 | 290 | 112 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | The examination confirmed it, and took away the last vestige of doubt.
We had assumed after the first few encounters that it was some property of their outer shell that made them immune to our weaponry, but no this was not the case. The outer shell is not part of the creature, it is not some extruded exoskeleton or dermal filter, it is a manufactured object. The reason that weapons don't work against them is that they can't, their biology is wrong.
It should have been obvious, it should have jumped out to those first pioneers that this was something different, this was something sprouted from a different root, cut to a different pattern. But they looked so much like the Anskarii it was just assumed they were a degenerate offshoot. Those eyes, the thick limbs, and hairless faces, the tiny feet. The way they hunted us with their sonic weapons every time we landed.
Of course we just threw a cordon around the place, a warning to others and never went back.
If we had, maybe things could have been different, maybe if we could have found a way to communicate we would have discovered... but no, perhaps this was the best way, as a creature so toxic, so alien, must be a thing of last choice.
It is said by the church that the records found in the Anskarii ship are a miracle, so an intervention by the god's to stop us learning more about them is not too far fetched. Perhaps the miracle is that we did not understand them until we needed to understand them.
You have all seen the Pioneer footage, the one called The Scream?
This is where the first mistakes were made. It was Pioneer Versal that was the issue not the orange chested predators, because the long bio-filaments hanging from him filtering the toxins... well, when you are preserving your own life in an extremely toxic environment, it is not a good idea if your bio-filaments make you look like a local prey animal.
But it was the data found on the Anskarii cruiser that finally sealed it. They had been visiting the planet for usual pre-invasion surveys, following the pattern that has seen them march across this arm of the galaxy in a grey-faced shiny-eyed wave, destroying all in their path. Those little grey bastards had been collecting these creatures using their usual fly-past method, you know, shoot down and scoop one up in some lonely out of the way area. Hit them with a biothermic beam and analyse the ashes.
But the thing is, the biothermics weren't killing them, just... just making them docile, confused. The data indicates that it wasn't even a matter of frequency, or the amplitude, it just didn't kill them. They are chemically, physiologically... fundamentally different. There is other data, footage, stuff that would blow your mind, the things they can do.
When the Anskarii figured out that the Biothermics didn't work, they turned to sonics. There is this footage I have seen, rows of them sitting around the central rotunda of a C class research ship, the light glinting off those big weird eyes, and they have one of the creatures strapped to a table. Anyway, they wheel in a sonic cannon and hit it point-blank, not a pistol... a cannon.
The thing, it just... it just goes crazy, rips through the strappings, jumps up and tears the head clean off the gunner. It is hard to see what happens after that, there are fluids on the lens of the recorder, but it cleared the entire ship in about an hour, just using it's own limbs, just those tiny looking hands and feet, and we believe this was an immature female.
Look... this is the choice. Below us is a planet full of monsters, carbon based things that are so alien they can survive in an oxygen rich environment. Our technology has no effect on them, the most powerful weapons of our enemy send them into such an insane rage that they literally rip anyone in their path to pieces. Do we ignore them, do we try and hold back the Anskarii on our own, or do we contact them in their cities, in their nests and try to make a deal?
The thing is, I have no doubt that with their help we can defeat the old enemy, but what then, once these monsters, these humans are loose among the civilized peoples of the Galaxy, what then? | Upon reflection, the decision to save the galaxy might have been a mistake. The Eholim evolved on a gas planet whose composition allowed for liquid water to rain into the depths. Gossamer wings and antennae and organs of helium sacks allowed their bodies to survive forever in flight. Their home-world was so large that their population was staggering in comparison to species who evolved on Terrestrial worlds.
The Banadii, a race whose individuals looked like a large wishbone and evolved on a planet not quite unlike Earth, uplifted the Eholim into The Galactic Society with the presentation of dirigibles that housed education computers and manufacturing facilities suited for the gas giant, but would naturally never have been able to be made from scratch on the planet. The Banadii claimed it was the poetry and music of the Eholim that gave them the right to be uplifted.
However, it turns out the only reason why the Eholim was so peaceful and poetic was because they really didn't have the means for physical conflict in the form that they evolved into, and what the Banadii perceived as beautiful compositions of sound and light, were actually poisonous vitriol of one Eholim insulting another about one thing or another. For example, the Cantabile of the Gates of Heavens, so named by the Banadii, was composed by an Eholim about his neighbor always blocking the sun, getting in the way during feeding, and generally being unacceptably unhygienic. The first mistake was not realizing that the Eholim was a race of mean spirit, selfish intention, and possessed a disregard for everything but their immediate interest.
The population pressures of the Eholim's homeworld was so intense that once they had the ability to leave their planet, they instantly started colonizing other worlds, and terraforming gas giants throughout the Galaxy to meet their needs. They drastically changed the mass and compositions of those planets and by doing so, disrupted the orbits of the terrestrial planets of most of the home-worlds Galactic Society was based on. Something had to be done. But what? No other race had nearly the numbers the Eholim had, well, accept one. Humanity.
Up until now, the only contact The Galactic Society had with Humanity was to occasionally pick up one that deviated from major population centers, abduct them for study and deposit them back into whatever cornfield or forest they were found in. But with the whole galaxy in disarray because the Eholim, the decision was made to uplift Humanity as well, and turn their energy towards defeating the Eholim in a war of extermination. It was not a repeat of the previous error as such, but an attempt to set the two uplifted races against each other so the rest of The Galactic Society can get back to their parties, and return to the usual business of proper socialization. Humanty was given FTL technology along with the information that the Eholim had colonized Jupiter. This was enough to get the ball rolling.
The second mistake was not realizing that Humanity actually liked war. They like it a great deal. More than anything. Humanity breeds and fights. The Eholim breeds and fights. The two have been at it for centuries now. Galactic Society is but a pale reflection of what it once was. There can be no parties where there is orbital bombardment. There cannot be proper socialization when fleets of barbarians are in your Heliosphere. The Galaxy will never be the same. | 2016-05-13T07:45:37 | 2016-05-13T07:41:46 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] You are a successful artist who has a condition where you randomly black out. When you wake up, you see that you have created beautiful masterpeices that you don't remember painting. Lately, all of your paintings have been more and more disturbing. | I tipped back the handle of bourbon, suckling the last trickling drops from the neck like a dry man in the desert. As I got the last of it into my mouth, I grimaced. It had been a long night again, it seemed. When I came home from the store, the bottle was full and I had only intended to drink a finger or two to take the edge off a day of beating concrete and hitting up galleries.
Even a successful artist has to bust their ass to pay rent. We can't all be Jackson Pollock, painting squares that sell for property deeds and gold plated yachts. My particular niche is pictures of the New York skyline. Cliche, I know, but people love it. Especially since I live in Kansas City, where New York is treated by the locals as having a sort of exoticism. But it's not all good, some still consider NYC a mix of angry anti-refugee ads and an oxycontin fever dream.
I've lived in Kansas City, Misery, for five years. Why? Because of the blackouts. When it started I was up and coming, five feet off Broadway living in a closet next to a restaurant that sold raw meat to rich people. I had my big break and then... nothing. One show that sold like hotcakes, which I also ate for the first time in the three years since the art academy. Even as I ate and money trickled away, in a two-closet apartment a little north of the old one, I couldn't paint. Sure, I could churn out the occasional starving artist's sale work, that's how I kept eating. Barely. But not the *good* stuff. It was the product of that miniscule drop of viscous juice I supped from my muse, that left me flying and covered in paint like a maniac.
Frustrated, I threw the glass handle, a relic from a whole different era of alcoholism, at the newest canvas. It shattered against the easel behind it, one made of old household pipes I bolted to the floor after a previous rage destroyed the last. How many had it been? Twenty? Thirty easels? I climbed to my feet and stalked across the glass, blood smearing behind my feet as I passed the long wall of recent attempts nailed up in a vicious, self-loathing chronology.
The first was returned to me, a skyline against matte black, spattered in fine droplets that took days to line up and get right. At street level there were tiny dots left to represent the coming and going of people. Even a perfected, flattened, artistic skyline must show its population in some way. With lights on or direct symbols. Something, else it's not a city. It's just a big collection of buildings! That was the last one that made sense to me!.
"Fuck!" I screamed at the wall. "Why?!"
The next was months, but the next sooner, and sooner again. Like a countdown where each interval cut itself in half with a palette knife, scraping my soul out to mix it with the umber. Each interval left me waking from a blackout, a painting on front of me. Each bigger than the last, eat in higher detail and clarity. Each in a darker palette, with colors I didn't remember mixing or even buying. Like I was going crazy and the only reflection was on the linen I reserved for paying customers. Between the blackouts, I was fine. Life was normal. Empty, full of limp-wristed painting, but fine.
Each painting after the first on the wall was darker as I circled the room, each wall covered, trailing through my own blood numbly again and again.
New York City with no people, cut in pristine, perfect lines.
New York City with turned cars, stripped, broken, derelict.
New York City at night, with no light, shadow or dynamic.
New York City at high noon, on fire, sky of smoking ash.
New York City in the evening, buildings leveled, broken.
New York City in the morning, water eating the shores.
New York City covered in vines, green on gray cracks.
New York City covered in twigs, brown, starved.
New York City swimming, an ocean of black oil.
New York City rising from a tide of corpses.
New York City sinking beneath waves.
New York City no more, just ocean.
The latest was at night.
A black canvas bursting with stars.
I fell to my knees and held my face in my hands, fingers matted with acrylic and tears. I was a thousand miles from home, and in my dreams, it no longer existed. How long until my dreams became the world?
| "No. Please not now." I say to myself. I can feel the familiar darkening around the edges. I am receding as the blackness takes over, billowing over me. "I don't even have any canvases." The abyss does not care. "This is just really not a good time for...for m-" I fall to the hardwood floor. My body stands up, leaving me on the floor.
...
I awake standing upright. I am staring at my latest work. "No. Goddammit. It looks like a murder scene in here." I say to my other self, the one who can't fucking control themselves, apparently.
The wall of my living room is covered in a demented mural. Satanic goats, pentagrams, babies and such. "It really *is* a nice piece...." I say to myself. Regardless of the dementedness and the fact that it is on my wall for Christ's sake.
The door bell rings. "No. It can't possibly be..." I trail off as I look at the clock. "Shit. Shit shit shit shit-" the doorbell cuts me off.
I hurry to the door. *What am I going to say?*
I swing it open.
"Hey!" they say amiably.
"Hey!" I fire right back. It must have sounded a little panicked. They look a little concerned.
"Is something wrong?" she asks.
"No, Mom, it's just that...a pipe burst! My kitchen is flooded. We're going to have to go out to eat." I say, practically patting myself on the back for my ingenuity.
"Oh no! Well I'm sure that your father could take a look at -"
"No!" I shout, "It's fine, really. I've already called somebody and they'll be here shortly."
They both jumped a little when I shouted. Now they look unconvinced. I stand in the doorway awkwardly.
"So, are we ready to get going or what?" I say.
"Well you don't look ready." Mom says.
I look down. *Shit.*" Blackout me found the time to change. I'm wearing an old shirt that's speckled with old paint, and shorts that I've had since I can remember.
"Shoot. I guess I got so caught up with the whole pipe thing that I forgot. I'll go change." I slam the door in their face. I can't risk it. They have gone to church every Sunday for the past 40 years. They can't think I made that.
I run to my room. My good clothes are piled on the floor. I pull my painting clothes off and throw them to the side. I am halfway up my pant's zipper when I hear the door open. *Shit. Fuck. Shit.* There is a spare key under the carpet! Of course I've told them about it before. They had to come water my plants while I was in Paris!
I run to the living room with my pants still unzipped. I find them staring at the wall.
"It's not what it looks like!" I scream, not knowing what else to say. It is, indeed, exactly what it looks like. They turn to me.
"It's...about time." Dad says.
*What?*
"What?"
"Son. Did you think we didn't know about the black outs?"
"How did you...what blackouts?"
"Oh, please. Did you think we didn't have anything to do with that?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"We made a deal, son. When you were born."
___
/r/Periapoapsis | 2017-04-16T08:09:01 | 2017-04-16T07:36:49 | 41 | 10 |
[WP] The date is April 1st 2020. Your town is deftly quiet for a Wednesday, but that’s because this time last year there came an April Fools prank that got so far out of hand that the town had to outlaw April Fools Day. That prank was yours and this is your confession. | Four pigs.
That's all my dad said I needed. Four pigs. Oh, and some grease and some paint. You take four pigs and write the numbers "one" "two" "three" and "five" on them, let it dry, slather them in grease and set them loose somewhere. The joke back then was that everyone would spend a day or so looking for number four.
But my dumbass just HAD to crank it up. I decided that since my dad was a teenager in the early 70's, that people probably all already knew the gig. So how do we play with their prejudices?
Simple.
Let number four loose in the school 2 days after.
I was good about it, even left two scoops of manure in the hallways the night before.
Suddenly they don't know what to believe. They are sweeping the halls and school rooms.
That's all I did.... For that year...
Next year, I did the same. But now Number two was the one to show up four days later.
And the next year five.... And six... Both let loose in the halls sequentially a week later.
So we come to senior year. My mistake, believe it or not, was NOT doing anything. Now admin is looking for five to six greased pigs. Things are getting insane. Nobody can find any pigs but dammit are they absolutely sure they are around somewhere.
As I'm pulling up to the school parking lot, a friend stops me. It's Jerry. He says school is closed last minute. Admin decided to smoke the pigs out using some chemical. Who building had to be taken off the grid and sealed up save for a few key exit points where teams of people waited with nets in hand.
This is getting ridiculous.
Then the explosion. Apparently the electrician missed something when all power was being drained. Somewhere in the home ed. room, a refigerator's compressor clicks on and BOOM.
So that's why we aren't allowed to have fun anymore and why I'm banned from local livestock auctions.... | One year ago today I led the entire community to the outskirts of town on an epic AFP. I told them there'd been a UFO crash. They followed me to the edge of the mesa. In an excited rush to see what was below, the eager residents in the rear pushed hard to make it to the edge and pushed those in front down into the abyss. In a further panic, trying to help rescue those, the remaining folks found assorted ways to the bottom only to discover that it was a pool of quicksand.
​
That's right. I single handedly pied pipered my entire town to their instant demise.
​
So yeah, it's been pretty quiet around here lately.
​
That's the bad news.
​
The good news is now I can find a damn parking spot at Walmart. | 2019-04-02T21:20:08 | 2019-04-02T21:19:04 | 326 | 16 |
[WP] “The goddess of humanity was the smallest and gentlest of all the races’ guardian deities... How did humans become the most destructive species?” “They looked into an infinity of malicious gods and declared that they would protect her. And now she lives in fear of her children.” | In the beginning there was nothing. Nothing that stretched on and on forever although forever was too small a concept to embrace that empty space. For an eternity or for a moment that was the state of all things. The moment after brought first dust, then light, and finally something more. They started pure of form, each speck the embodiment of an ideal. Death was not the first form, but it was the mightiest, for all that was eventually was not. Life was her counterpart, and between the those two rotating poles, locked forever in a mortal embrace, the other forms came into being.
Hunger served Death as her first lieutenant, for all that knew Life soon knew Hunger, and Hunger brought them closer to Death. Hunger was soon joined by her sister, War, for all that lived and hungered would eventually fight. Hunger and War ravaged Life's tiny specks, her children in the void, and in that ravaging Pestilence oozed into being. Pestilence was a forsaken child of Hunger and War, and she lived in the rift caused by her mothers, but all three served Death faithfully.
Dimming under this onslaught of Hunger and War and Pestilence, Life knew she needed a friend, an ally to beat back the rising black tides that threatened to engulf all that was hers. So she rent a piece of her own flesh, dim but still radiant, and coaxed her into being. Love was Life's child, and she held her close as her only bulwark against the onslaught of Death.
Love knew that to sustain life she would need children of her own, and so like her mother she rent herself. But Love was naive, the smallest and gentlest of the great primordials, and she rent herself into pieces too small to sustain Love herself. These pieces cooled, and Humanity opened her myriad eyes to the inky blackness of the void of Death. She watched with a million tiny selves as Hunger winked out the shards of Love almost as quickly as they split, vanquishing the motes of tiny light as they came into being. She felt with a myriad limbs as War wrenched her into ever smaller pieces, and those pieces too winked out into blackness. Finally, Humanity suffered under the sores of Pestilence, as that final and forsaken child clung to Humanity, dragging her myriad bodies and minds down.
Under siege from the agents of Death, Humanity did the only thing she knew how: she split, again and again, each splinter dimmer than the last, each shard just a little less luminous than the last. And as she split and split, the piece of Humanity that was still Love got smaller and smaller, and Humanity found herself drawn closer to the black gravity of Death. That small part that was still Love shivered in fear, for her children no longer held her brilliance. Instead they reached out toward the cold void of Death, radiating the ice of that black God.
But it was a false cold, a shell like an ember smoldering beneath the snow. For even as Humanity split, still she harbored a piece of Love. And Humanity claimed, for now and forever into eternity, that she would shelter that sliver of Love, no matter how small.
And no matter the cost. | "Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then from whence comes evil?" -Attributed to Epicurus by David Hume.
“The gods are proud, she is humble.
The gods boast, she questions.
The gods have secrets, she shares freely.
The gods cheat, but she demands honesty.
The gods use false measure, but her worth can only be brought by fair weight.
She is heart seeker, truth finder.
Oh you who boast of strength or speed, look upon her children’s works and despair! “
- Kenning chant of the Knaar XII Battle fleet, having been defeated by the construction crews of the Dyson 3 around Toliman in 1312 Post Atomic.
The prevailing belief in unique species manifestations know as gods is common across the galaxy referred to as the [insert localisation], where it was used by the [Triumvirate Empire of the Milky-way] to integrate species into their expansive authority.
Humans were unique, having never unified under a single theocracy, having no common language or creed that they could all respect. So the [Triumvirate Empire of the Milky-way] granted them a god that was fit for their squabbling nature, and gave it as small a space in their pantheon as they could. A repurposed Muse, a ‘mere’ Apsara.
Gods are said to gain their power from their people, but others believe that what others believe about you can also shape your diety. Human words and practices became associated with her, a joke book of phrases was a popular success. And then they built Dyson 1 around their home system.
And the sayings of the Humans Goddess passed into legend.
“Measure twice, cut once”
“Trust, but Verify”
“Hypothesise, Test, Evaluate”
“Improvise, Adapt, Overcome”
“If I have seen further than others, it is because I stand on the shoulders of Giants”
“I am become death, the Destroyer of Worlds”. | 2021-01-22T23:22:04 | 2021-01-22T23:03:27 | 506 | 170 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | Andrew nearly snarled as his phone chimed for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. His shift at the warehouse ended only a few hours ago and it like chickens running around with their heads chopped off whenever he left. It was rare delight to encounter the nights that he was actually permitted to sleep through the night.
On top of the texts that were just brimming with simple incompetency, the morons that lit up his phone in the middle of the night always seemed to wake up his wife, Isabel, who suffered from insomnia to begin with. The raise Andrew agreed to that stated he kept his ringer on for these occasions never seemed worth it when he saw Isabel the next day, curled up in the guest room with dark circles under her eyes from her attempts to get away from the constant chiming.
Andrew rubbed a hand over eyes to clear them, trying to understand the ridiculous amount of messages but he must have been more tired than he thought since they didn’t make sense.
He quickly scrolled through the message previews, finding they all seemed to follow the same pattern: to look at the moon. The moon? What the -? Why?
It was like a shot to his adrenaline when he saw that some of the messages were coming from Isabel’s phone. He shot up from bed, seeing the other side empty, and jumped to his feet.
“Hun, what’s going on,” Andrew questioned, still scrolling through his phone while walking towards the guest room. The room was at the end of the hallway and the door was wide open. He could see Isabel standing in the middle of the room, arms down by her side and phone clutched in her hand as she gazed out the window.
As he grew closer, he could see that she was shaking, “Bel? Honey? What’s wrong, why-”
Isabel’s body whipped toward him and Andrew couldn’t help himself, he froze in place. She ran and shoved her body into the door, slamming it shut and locking it in place.
The speed was all wrong though, Andrew had never seen her move that fast. It was insane, it was...inhuman….
His own body started to tremble when he remembered her eyes. Her pupils were dilated and not a single bit of the green irises he loved so much were left.
He was just about to ram his own body into the door, to beg her to let him in and make her explain what is happening, but then she started sobbing.
“Andrew! You need to run, you need to hide! I’m so sorry, god I am so sorry. Run, Andrew, and whatever you do, don’t look at the moon!”
Andrew started pounding his fists on the door and trying to shove his weight against it, but she must have blocked it with something.
Despite his shouting and his pleading to be let in, his forgotten phone on the hallway floor seemed to crack through the commotion as the alarms of the emergency alert system distracted him for just a moment. The robotic voice started to play from his phone automatically, “WARNING. THIS IS NOT A TEST. THIS IS AN EMERGENCY ALERT. DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON. WARNING. THIS IS NOT A TES-”
Andrew thought his distress was at its peak, nothing was making sense and he just needed to get Isabel so they could deal with this together. He just needed to-
Her screams started and it struck him cold to the very center of his being. He began pounding and kicking at the door until it gave way under his body. Isabel was on the floor, writhing in the moonlight. Andrew couldn’t help it, his knees buckled and he emptied the contents of his stomach right where he stood.
Isabel's body was bent at every wrong angle possible but she wasn’t screaming anymore. Her head snapped in his direction with that ungodly speed again. Bathed in the moon’s light and pupils still completely dilated, she smiled up at him as if every bone in her body wasn’t broken.
In the same voice she used to tell soothe him time after time, she whispered, “Look at the moon, Andrew.”
| DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON.
My eyes were barely open, bleary with sleep, but the incessant buzzing of the phone against the glossy black wood of the bedside table was just passing the point of ignorable. It took me a moment to register that the words were strange, holding their place at the top of the screen in bold, official letters, while the green icons of text messages scrolled beneath.
Do not look at the moon? What the hell kind of late April Fool’s joke was this? I scoffed quietly, glancing down over the stream of messages. Moon shit, moon shit, and… moon shit. Whatever. Had to be some kind of gag, and frankly, I didn’t have the goddamn time for it. Work came early in the morning, and I had… what, two hours left before I had to wake up in order to beat traffic?
Fuck this. I powered the phone off to quiet the buzzing, and dropped my hands down to rest on my chest, phone still resting beneath. And with the screen out of my line of sight, that was when I noticed her.
My wife was a beautiful woman-- The sort of beautiful that comes after a good decade of married life. That kind of beautiful with a few lines around the eyes, and a few strands of stray silver in her dark hair. Not that I could see them from where she was, standing silhouetted by the streaming moonlight pouring in the window, her hands resting lightly on the glass.
“Anna?” came my groggy mumble of a voice.
No response. She just stood there, staring upwards in the bath of silvery light. Was the moon always this bright? Or had I just never really noticed it before?
“Anna, c’mere,” I said a little louder, reaching out a heavy hand towards her and dropping it back down onto the sheets.
Nothing.
Concern slowly began to stir somewhere in my gut as I stared at her familiar outline. I could see the dust in the air, floating lazily in the shafts of moonlight that her body eclipsed. Her nightgown wasn’t sheer, but as awareness began to settle in on my suddenly very awake mind, I realized the light was shining straight through. That was far, far too bright for moonlight.
And that was when she turned her head, the movement just a little too slow, too smooth. In the perfect, bald light I could see her face. So familiar, with those smile lines around her lips, even with the neutral blank of her expression. Her dark brows lifted over eyes familiar in shape, even if the harsh shadows made them look like strange, blackened pits. And then she finally looked at me. I knew she looked at me. It was unmistakable with the way her pupils reflected the moonlight, like some nocturnal hunting cat.
Her lips parted and she whispered, her soft voice clear.
“The moon-- it’s beautiful tonight. Come look.
| 2022-10-06T10:06:56 | 2018-04-06T20:42:31 | 483 | 10 |
[WP] A Romeo and Juliet style story, where a fedora-wearing neckbeard and an easily triggered tumblrinia fall in love, but the corresponding websites forbid their relationship.
Taken from /u/dem_yoga_pants on /r/crazyideas | JULIET
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore types thou Romeo?
Deny heteronormativity and refuse male privilege;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my polysexual dragonkin,
And I'll no longer be a Feminist.
ROMEO
[Aside] Do I neg more, or do I post at this?
JULIET
'Tis but thy gender-role that is my oppressor;
Thou art my soulmate, and not a FratBoy.
What's FratBoy? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, if only you were a Bolshevik lesbian!
What's in a socially-imposed label? that which we call a Prius
By any other name would be as globally conscious;
So Romeo would, had his sexist father not forced his mother to name him Romeo,
Retain that perfect, though socially-structured, attractiveness which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, go to the City Hall to have your name changed,
And for that name which is no longer yours,
Take my own name, as my professor said all strong womyn should demand.
ROMEO
I take you at your word that you are not trying to spermtrap me:
Call me your Gentleman, and I'll change my name, m'lady;
Henceforth I never will be beta again.
JULIET
What creep is hiding in my parents' pot plants,
Listening to me talk to myself?
ROMEO
By a screenname
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, m'lady, is hateful to myself,
Because it is patriarchal;
If I could change my screenname, I would change it immediately.
JULIET
I have stalked but for a minute
Of your posting history, yet I know those subreddits and that karma:
Art thou not Romeo and a RedPiller?
ROMEO
Neither, glorious maiden, if either oppresses you.
EDIT: RIP m'inbox
EDIT2: Holy Hell, triple gold. Thanks! | Their friendship blossomed, like most friendships do. The flower was a mixture of Doritos dust arranged delicately on petals of Code Red Mountain Dew color, while the flower's stem was wide and crooked as to not offend anyone's non-straight stem privilege.
The two loved each other. One was addicted to browsing high quality subreddits like /r/Atheism and /r/MLP while the other was a master of posting long rants on Tumblr about the white male patriarchy and how so many people never checked their privilege. Indeed, the two were made for one another.
Alas, the two were destined to never meet. Reddit cried out angrily,"How dare you like her? How dare you love the subject of /r/fatpeoplestories and /r/tumblrinaction"
Tumblr cried out," How can you love someone who hasn't checked his white male mysognist privilege?"
And so they stayed away from each other until one day, the efforts of a certain person pulled them together. They both received the letter from an edgy, socially introverted 15 year old with a tendency to make up creative dank memes.
"Hi, I'm 4chan.
And I believe I can help." | 2015-04-26T11:04:25 | 2015-04-26T09:32:27 | 3,400 | 631 |
[WP] Write a scary story, where the narrator is constantly making jokes. | The wind whistled through leafless branches of trees as arcs of lightning flashed overhead in the sky, followed by the cracks of thunder, causing Kelly to jump with every boom. You should have seen the look on Kelly's face, she was fucking terrified.
Advertised in the papers as an idyllic seaside cottage, the pictures posted on the website were of the house brightly lit, the suns rays pouring onto its bricks and the slates on the roof, lighting it like a beacon by the sea. For some reason Kelly thought this would be an accurate representation of late November, so like a dumb bitch booked a week away, alone, in the middle of nowhere. Jesus, this just sounds like a scary story waiting to happen.
Anyway, Kelly lay in the largest bed in the house, which creaked every time she altered her position. With the covers pulled up to her chin, the cold of winter still pierced through to her skin, which was covered in goose bumps. The heating in the house had ceased to work and despite calling a repairman, there had been no visit. Why she didn't have the common sense to perhaps wear more clothes is beyond me. Regardless of this, she shivered in bed, her thin nightie doing nothing to protect her against the temperature and her jaw ached from trying to force her teeth not to chatter anymore. Closing her eyes she praying for this nightmare to end. Really though, Kelly. November? Sunshine? Get a grip.
In between cracks of thunder Kelly thought she heard the faint crunching of footsteps against the stones outside the house. Raising her head from the pillow (which didn't actually improve her hearing at all) she waited patiently, holding her breath and not daring to swallow. As if the figure outside might hear this. The crunching sounds were growing stronger, as the cause of the noise neared the house.
"What is that?" She gasped under her breathe. A person, Kelly. It is a person. What else would be walking towards the front door of the house in this weather?
Bang. A thud on the front door, from the hilt of a clenched fist.
Bang. A second knock, the skin on Kelly's body now crawling. Her heart pounding in her chest.
Bang. The final bang, if the previous ones were imagined, there was no denying all three, this wasn't a loose stone caught in an updraft and colliding with the wood of the door. That was three, identical and timed knocks.
Her white breathe plumed from her mouth in a higher frequency, she waited, prayed for the person (She now accepted yes, it was a person walking towards the house and knocking on the door) to leave, for her to fall asleep and treat this incident like a bad dream. Then the door clicked, unlocked. God, if you thought Kelly was scared before you should see her now!
Adrenaline flooded her veins, her heart pumping so fast it was almost a continuous single beat, her hands shook as the door closed, slamming behind the person.
A clap of thunder silenced every other noise in the house, Kelly swore she heard a voice downstairs. Footsteps walked along the hallway, calculated, so loud and heavy, surely those belonging to a man. They reached the foot of the stairs, the bottom step groaning as it took the weight of the being. Kelly lay flat, ducking low and placing her head under the safety of the covers, like a rational person, rather than perhaps use something in the room as a weapon, such as a candlestick holder or the chair that sat beside the bed.
The person reached the top of the stairs, a voice called out.
"Hello?" Low and gruff, a mans. Kelly whimpered, closing her eyes tight, the exact thing someone should do in a potentially life or death situation. The footsteps continued, the steps seeming to reverberate around the walls as they neared the room. They stopped. Outside the door. The handle rattled. Tears began to form in Kelly's eyes, was this the end? Was she going to die, alone in this bed on the worst holiday she had ever booked?
The door swung open, Kelly daring to peek out of the covers, her eyes adjusting to the light but not fast enough, the room was pitch black. Lightning flashed and illuminated the room, a tall wide figure dominated the door frame, filling every inch of it. The man, was staring directly at her, his blue eyes revealed by the lightning, his grey beard rough and unkempt.
"Oh, hello, I knew you were here." Kelly looked at him, her heart still racing but her mind confused.
"I'm Joe, you called me earlier? About the heating that had gone out?" | The teenagers shuffled down the corridor, their flashlight lighting the way. Dust coated the floor and cobwebs hung from the ceiling, as the pipes rattled below them.
*This is sounding awfully familiar, isn't it? I'm sure I've seen a film just like this.*
The group pressed on, heading towards the door at the end of the hall. It was from this grungy room that would reveal to them the truth about the House on Hangman's Hill. The flashlight started to wane, sending the group into panic. They were plunged into darkness. They all clung together and waited, hoping their light would come on.
*Yes, I have seen this one. The ditzy blonde one is going to smack the torch, a creepy looking guy will flash up in front of them and they'll all scatter down the corridor. How very original. Why didn't they bring more batteries too? That's wasn't very bright of them. See what I did there, bit of a pun. Okay okay, I'll stop now, it's all very serious.*
One of the group fumbled with the torch, dropping it on the ground. A burst of light revealed the door ahead of them, which was stained with blood and was covered in rusty chains. The pipes rattled even more and they could hear something coming from behind the door. As they approached, the torch flickered again, shadows dancing on the ceiling. Something seems to creep from within the shadows, something inhuman.
*Oh, I haven't seen this one then. I'm calling it now, one of them is possessed by the devil and is leading them towards the room or it's all an elaborate hoax to teach them a lesson or something contrived like that. What's that? I'm ruining the story? Oh shut up, it's not that good to begin with. Alright, I'll be quiet. Who put a stick up your bum?*
Their breathing got louder as they approached the door. The leader began to snip off the chains on the door with his bolt cutters, aware that something was coming for them.
*Oh, so they brought bolt cutters but not more batteries? This is just stupid now.*
The first chain came off. The door started to rattle as something began to pad up the corridor.
*This is ridiculous. Why are they even opening the door if something scary is behind it?*
Then the second. Footsteps got even closer as the door continued to rattle. They could hear the snarl of some beast in the dark.
*Again, why is no-one keeping an eye on whatever is coming for them? Have they got weapons or anything?*
Another chain came off. The snarling got even louder, echoing up the corridor as the door was about to come free.
*I bet whatever is it the room will jump out and stop the thing coming from up the corridor. Bet you any money.*
The final chain came off as the snarling seemed to be on top of the group. As one of the group pointed the flashlight at the ceiling to reveal whatever creature was stalking them, a figure shot from the locked room, knocking the stalker into the darkness.
*I bloody knew it! Can we stop listening to this now and do something different? I'm telling you know that the door'll slam, the fighting will be replaced with laughter and this whole sequence was to lock the teenagers in with the devil or some shit. What do you mean I'm ruining the story? It's dreadful! Whatever, I'm going to go play Smash Bros, this is just drivel.*
| 2014-09-24T12:53:00 | 2014-09-24T12:40:37 | 126 | 12 |
[WP] "The one who frees the sword will receive the untold riches of the hero who embedded the sword in the stone". Never said anything about pulling it out, you think to yourself as you begin to chip away at the rock. | Who is the most worthy of rewards? He who with brute force accomplishes his task, without regards for finding the easiest path. He who rams his head against the wall until it is broken through. The skull or the wall, it matters not. Or is the one who deserves rewards the shrewd one, he who plans, thinks, and takes the path of least resistance towards his goal, enduring his task while suffering far less than the man who thinks not. The man who when faced with an impenetrable wall, finds a way to walk around it?
There is a blade, it's hilt is inlaid with marvellous jewels and pure gold. Upon the sword, with runes written in rubies, it says, that he who frees the sword shall receive the riches untold, of the hero who wielded it, and embedded it in the stone. Many a strong man has struggled against the blade, and been found wanting against the sword and the rock. And it remains embedded into the same rock which a legendary hero stabbed it into centuries ago.
I'm not meathead. I'm not strong man. And if anybody had considered this, they'd notice that the sword is not made for men for whom strength and bravery are their primary tools. It is a quick blade, for stabs, thrusts, and piercing strikes. A sword for one who dances upon the wind and the water as they strike with precision, not for one who wields a sword like they'd wield an axe or a club.
So I come in the night. And with a hammer and a chisel, I methodically unmake the stone. Chip by chip, speck by speck, the blade is freed. It takes many nights, but it has been there for so long that nobody sees it anymore. Nobody notices. Not until I have removed it. I observe from the rooftop as the townsfolk gather around in shock and amazement, as the legendary blade of the hero is gone. Somebody won the challenge.
The riches? Well, the blade is not merely a key that magically gives you wealth. On the parts of the blade hidden in the rock, there is a magical map, which in the light of the moon is summoned to show you the way. A way to find the hidden treasures of the ancient hero. Because the sword is a challenge. And the first test was to free it. I use my money to buy supplies. I leave my hometown forever.
Because the sword has given me the grandest of quests. I will find the hidden treasures of the ancient hero. Magical armour of metal alloys, the secret to which are lost to time. Gems, magical items, more gold than I could ever use. And I will find it all, as it is a grand inheritance, a quest for the future generations, that only a clever man could find.
I could tell you exactly why the blade couldn't be removed with any feat of strength. But some secrets are better kept, and besides, when I've found the treasures, I will seek more, and become the greatest adventurer of this generation. And once I have grown old, I will find a rock in a town, and embed the sword again, so that another hero, years down the line can retrieve the blade, and find the treasures I will have hidden.
And so, the line of heroes, clever and cunning, continues.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | “We’re finally here!” I shout.
“Took long enough,” Marissa responded, “thought we’d never find it.”
The rock lay right before our eyes. Just as the legend went, the sword was stuck in the stone, reflecting the afternoon sun. Despite the many centuries that have passed, not a single speck of rust could be seen on the sword.
For many, the real problem was trying to locate the location of the sword. Some have said the rock changes locations every once in a while to people like us on their feet. And for those who have the glory of locating it, it is known that the rock will change its location after a few days to prevent them from having time to get outside help. Fortunately for us, we discovered that the rock was relatively close to the outskirts of our town.
Slowly, we approached the rock. It looked pretty normal with the exception that it was remarkably smooth. To no one’s surprise, the sword didn’t budge one bit as we attempted to pull it.
Out of breath, I saw Marissa throw her bag down and pull out a pickaxe.
“Let’s see if this does anything,” Marissa stated. I watched her as she took a step back and swung at the rock with all of her might. The pickaxe bounced off of the rock and Marissa stumbled back.
I ran over to check up on her. She appeared fine, but something in the grass next to her caught my eye. I noticed a small rock lying in the grass. Gingerly, I picked it up and moved towards the rock. After a few minutes, I saw that there was a tiny patch of the rock that wasn’t smooth. To my delight, the rock chunk fit perfectly in said patch. I cried out in joy to Marissa.
“But we can’t keep this up for long, the rock is enormous and I’m exhausted. We’ll never get the sword out at this rate” Marissa whined.
“Well, I believe you are wrong as I came quite prepared,” I responded.
Marissa appeared quite puzzled until the rumbling of machinery disrupted the silence. She looked up at me, but the look bewilderment had left her face.
“Good thing my uncle owns a mining company!” I shouted as I saw the drill trucks pull into the surrounding area.
“I bet!” Marissa called out.
If you're curious, you can check out more of my writing at r/casualscribblings.
Edit: Fixed up grammar | 2020-05-21T16:32:06 | 2020-05-21T15:38:28 | 107 | 16 |
[WP] In 2153, humans escaped from their ruined planet with the help of an AI-controlled fleet whose goal was to find humans a safe place for them to live and put themselves in cryo-sleep. When humans woke from their sleep they found a variety of messages begging humans to stop their mechanical god | “They came from the skies, in black cocoons of twisted metal- tougher than any alloy, harder than any stone: blood warriors delivered as divine punishment for sins we have yet to commit. The battles were swift and brutal, our firepower no match for the hulking behemoths unleashing invisible pain from their sides, and our legs stood no contest to the spindly chasers which mercilessly tore apart survivors. Those few which we miraculously managed to down provided little insight to the identity of our assailants: they are entirely mechanical- automated tools of slaughter that do not stop for rest or meal. They are metal manipulated into structures beyond our wildest dreams, executing orders from our worst nightmares. Our cities stand intact, yet are devoid of any noise save for the final throes of the dying and the ghastly metallic clicking of approaching death. After several hopeless days, we are now cornered in our final bastion, the beasts pounding away at our remaining forces. To those who may hear this final plea: we beg for safety. Even a single gathering of survivors given refuge on a lone escape pod would be more than we could ask for. And if this message reaches the cruel beings which brought about our pain: we simply beg for mercy.”
The captain tipped his head down and closed his eyes, “Is that the final message?”
“No captain,” a synthetic voice echoes throughout the cockpit, “There remains unread messages.”
“Then read them. Read them all. This burden is for me to bear.” As the AI processed the command and began loading the data, the captain glanced outside the ship and into the gently flowing grasses on the land below. His people were already establishing the first buildings and farms of their new found home. This land was safe, there was no doubt of that. In fact, the entire surrounding galaxy was safe- devoid of sentient life and ripe for the taking.
~
Thank you for reading. If you have any comments or criticisms, make them known. I am always looking to improve. | [Poem]
Fiat lux, the masters awaken;
eyelids rise, souls are shaken.
In interstellar slumber - horrors beyond number.
Unheard osirons, to those unaware in blissful sleep.
Dark intelligences standby bloody work;
a deadly, uncaring clockwork.
Gaze upon the wasteland - life scoured, Humanity damned.
Oh sleeping bands, naught left but to weep.
"Why do you hate life, human;
what chthonic god is this Von Newmann?"
Humanity slept, as did our Gods - survival against the odds.
From one ruined planet, now a myriad we keep.
Remember the dead; cast your eyes to the deep.
Gaze upon your abyss; go back to sleep. | 2021-06-18T21:37:09 | 2021-06-18T18:26:07 | 211 | 30 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | I saw this yesterday and hyperfocused for nine hours straight writing a short story with 7k+ words. I'll certainly have to break this up into parts. I know nobody will probably see this since a day has passed since the prompt was posted, but I wanted to share. *Edited a few times for formatting issues.
TW for suicide mention, implied sexual assault.
----
I was in the den when I heard a knock at my door. *How unusual*, I thought. As someone who used to be one of the kingdom’s most wanted, it was rare for people to visit me in my abode. The guards and the members of the Levethix Circle usually just barged in with little regard for my privacy. More than once I’ve had delicate experiments interrupted and ruined by their arrival. However, such a surrender of privacy was one of the compromises I had to make for my stay of execution. It did come with the “privilege” to live in a house instead of a cell. However, this building was surrounded by a perimeter of arcane runes and guards to prevent my escape, so it was little more than a plush cage anyways. If someone was knocking on my door, then they at least had more manners and sense than the usual dogs of the kingdom.
I waved a hand, my raven familiar bringing my scrying orb. Ever since my defeat at the hands of the Five Primordials, there had been a few times when those with old grudges came looking for blood. It was best to know who was on my doorstep before I greeted them, weakened as I was. As the crystal ball focused in on the front of my home, the image of a tall, pale woman with elven features and wavy blond hair became clear. I couldn’t help but laugh at my luck. It was no dog of the kingdom that knocked at my door, but a wolf. A huntress.
Shiraya Arun-te, the champion of the Val’dranis Kingdom and the Earth Primordial.
She wasn’t wearing the plate armor I was accustomed to seeing her in, but then again, the last time I had seen her was during my trial, and before that, the battlefield. She was the stalwart leader of the Five Primordials, a band of heroes who had become quite famous for their exploits, one such being my defeat. Perhaps she had come to inform me that the kingdom no longer needed my great intellect for deciphering their discovered artifacts, and that they were nullifying my plea bargain. At the very least, if I was to die, it had better be by the hands of someone with at least half of her considerable might. But perhaps that day was not today, as Shiraya had come here unarmed.
I waved the door open with a spark of arcane magic. These days, such sparks were about all I could conjure. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Lady Arun-te?”
She seemed to grimace at my words. As we met face to face, I observed something most intriguing - discomfort. In all our many battles she had been nothing but bravado and fury, this was a new emotion I had not seen in her before.
“Elias.” She said composing herself, venom in the cold way she spoke my name. She fixed her equally cold eyes upon me. Emerald green, deep as the ocean is wide. Perhaps it was due to her affinity with nature and the earth, for I had never seen such a color before I met her.
“Would you like to come in?” I asked, gesturing to the interior of my abode. “For a prison, it’s quite homely. I was about to start on a new alchemy project, but I can start on some muffins if you prefer. I haven’t yet eaten.”
She regarded me with a long stare before wordlessly walking inside, observing the interior with a trained eye. In the many years the Five Primordials chased after me, I had left dozens of traps in their way. I could tell she was scanning the room for anything similar.
“I assure you there’s no trickery at play here, at least not from me. The first prince was quite clear that my life would end the moment any more blood was spilled.”
“It would take more than one of your simple traps to make me bleed,” Shiraya commented with her usual bravado. She spoke the truth. As the Earth Primordial, she was blessed by nature with supernatural durability. I once collapsed a tower on top of her, only for the ridiculous woman to hold half of it up on her own while that Ruvinus brat cast a spell to teleport them out.
“Sit wherever you like. I imagine by your expression that you’re here to talk about something important. With the length your moral lectures often go, I imagine we should make ourselves comfortable.”
I busied myself with preparing the aforementioned muffins. My familiar carried sticks back and forth to the wood burning oven, and I whipped up two batches of muffins - lemon poppy seed and blueberry.
“You seem to be doing well for yourself here. It’s hard to imagine you’re a criminal with a life sentence when I see all this,” she said, gesturing to my many belongings. There were arcane and alchemical implements scattered across my desk, an easel by the window from when I had tried to teach myself to paint, and a large bookshelf taking up the far wall full of expensive tomes – half of which I had written. In addition, all sorts of various trinkets and knick-knacks lay about, most of them related to my studies, some of them just for fun. “If I didn’t know any better I would think you weren’t a prisoner but a nobleman.”
I exhaled, and Shiraya’s head snapped to face me, her body language becoming defensive. She must have felt my sudden bloodlust. Nobleman. There was little I hated more than the pompous elite. Treason was my first of many crimes, and the nobleman I murdered that night was certainly not the last.
“I may have broken fangs from the restraints placed on me by the kingdom, but you’d do well to remember that I have no love for the glorified animals that run it. These accommodations are the least they could do for me lending my invaluable expertise on ancient magic. The Levethix Circle wouldn’t have made half the progress in twice the time without me.”
Shiraya sighed and lowered her hands. While she had brought no weapon with her, I was acutely aware that it made her no less lethal.
“Right. I’m aware of your vendetta.”
I took some time to clean my kitchen area, making the famous hero wait on me was a rare pleasure I took in my otherwise rather insulting life. When the muffins were done I floated them out and onto the table by the couch, sitting down across from the elven champion.
“So, what did you come here to discuss?”
I watched with a measured eye as the woman took a deep breath, her eyes looking up to meet mine and then glancing away.
“How would you like to get some fresh air, Elias?”
I pondered this. Fresh air? It wasn’t usually permitted for me to leave the perimeter around my home. Not without an armed escort.
“For you to come here yourself, I imagine we’re not going to the library to meet some scholars. Who is seeking my audience, and why are they important enough to warrant your attendance?”
Shiraya bit her lip, and I swear I saw a hint of red flash across the tips of her pointed ears.
“It’s a wedding, and the one seeking your audience is me. I want you to come as my date.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. Dozens of questions flashed through my head, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was, “Oh? How forward.”
Shiraya’s eyes rolled at my comment. “My brother is being wed to Lady Delilah of House Hawkmoore, and I’m supposed to bring a ‘plus one’ to the ceremony. You… were available, so I dropped by.”
“Well I certainly don’t have anywhere else to be, but aren’t there – oh I don’t know – four other primordials and dozens of adoring fans whom you could take instead? Why me, the one you fought for seven long years?
“About that,” she said, “Illyin wandered off months ago, Jayce is on a mission for the crown, Chagarr isn’t suited for formal events, and Ruvinus is young enough to be my nephew. At the very least, I know you can handle formalities and dance.”
It was true. I could show those pompous animals in the capital a thing or two about class. I was called “The Mad Gentleman, Elias Cage,” after all. However, I could sense that she was hiding something. While I hated the idea of having to breathe the same air as those animals, it would be nice to see the look on the nobilities’ face when a traitor with blue blood on his hands showed up to such an event.
“I don’t know what you’re planning, Shiraya, but I’ll acquiesce.”
‘“Wonderful,” she said, “How soon can you be ready?”
“Do you mean to tell me you came looking for a partner on the same day as the event?”
“You weren’t exactly my first choice, Elias.”
“Fair point,” I chuckled, “Give me ten minutes. What are you wearing? We’ll need to match.” | "You want me to do... *what*?!"
Incredulously, I stared at the waif-like redhead, currently floating there on the gust of wind that always had that weird opaque sea-like quality, as she'd been blessed by some sort of power or some-such. I never had been able to discern whether it was something out of some fantasy novel, some chemical accident or some sort of cosmic inheritance, something that never had come up, because usually, it was fist-first, power zap second.
An artist of science and artistry, I would call myself, and now, I find myself staring at her, currently at the edge of the wooded area that I had built as a personal refuge from the ails of the world (and the pesky regulators that thought that building a life-sized android replica of the President was not up to code), as she just looked pleadingly at me.
"This is embarrassing! I kind of really need a date, you know? It's... it's for a wedding. My friend's wedding is in a few days and... well... Would you go with me?"
The thought was ludicrous. I had my career in supervillainy, a PhD within evil scheming! I was not going to be cowed by someone that usually had me face-down in the earth after the first six blows or something, and the expensive dental repair that my dentist had been forced to engage in once I'd gotten off on a technicality.
It paid to have a lawyer team on call whenever you were illegally detained by a vigilante, even though the 'hero code' was making it legal. Private rights...
"You are probably able to ask any guy off the streets, without a problem. Why would I go with you?"
She was petite, though usually, I never really thought too much of that when she was flying right at me. The black and green costume made her look a bit like some kind of weird buzzing hornet.
"Because my ex will be there! I need to... I need to find someone that's not too- Will you come?"
I checked the scanner to see whether there was some sort of other human activity crew around. This must be a prank or something, because there was no way that I'd get asked to go to a wedding with her.
"It's very funny, but you can tell whoever is watching this to buzz off. Ha ha, make fun of the incel nerd, you've had your fun. Now, are we going to go and have a brawl, or do you want to keep up this ludicrous pretense of being here to ask me for a date for some wedding?!"
I *hated* the pretty girls that could just ask any guy out back when I was in university. The type that would just give me one look, dismiss me as something lesser, but I sure as hell showed them when I built my first giant robot in the university dormitory. It'd only been a one-story battle robot, but it had nice lasers!
And a beer cannon, but that was just because they asked for it. It was still in use as the Beer-Barian, back at my alma mater. Things had not been as heavy as they were now.
"What? Do you think this is FUNNY? I'm honest!"
Lies. Why would someone that probably would knock it out of the park with her looks, have a problem finding a date to impress her ex? Didn't she have like, three or four side-kicks, the 'wonder squad' or something, to rely on?
"I'm not buying it, tell whoever is taping this to get the hell out so I can destroy this whole mockery! We've been at odds for five years now!"
I was turning a ripe 31 now, and she must be around... twenty-nine or something. I never really got close enough to ask. That one time when she'd slipped up and I'd gotten clotheslined by her, it'd ended up shattering my jaw with the force of a pelvic region that'd come flying at Mach One.
It'd been embarrassing as hell, watching that footage back at the replay when I'd been sprung free.
"I really don't- There is no camera crew! I just- You're the only one I can ask!"
My doubts were written on my face.
"You have a harem of men! Those flunkies of yours threatened to cut my wiener off!"
She actually flushed at that. I had hit a nerve.
"And they were wrong to do that on national television, I admit. I got in trouble for that too. All I'm asking is a date to a wedding. I'll... I'll let one thing slide, okay? I'll fib and say that I'm busy and you get away, due to some... some hypno spray or something."
That would increase my personal finances quite a bit. Having to cobble together a mechanical suit in a cave out of a box of scrap metal would be replaced with a fully-stocked laboratory and robot arms.
"I guess you've got a date then. But what about that Harry fellow? In your whole harem of super-studs?"
She snorted loudly at that epithet. She wasn't going to let that go, I guessed, as she ran a hand through her hair. It was some sort of weird gesture that had the wind billowing through her hair, the mask that she wore to shroud her facial features pulled a little tighter.
"Listen, that guy can wear a dress all he likes, but I'm not into it. Dating sucks if you're- Listen, do me this favor and I'll let you go, once."
I supposed that it would be a fair deal. One annoying afternoon or day with my arch-nemesis and the next day to pull a heist on Fort Knox.
It'd work out well.
"You have a deal. Where do I need to be at?"
The smile she gave was grateful, which made my stomach turn. There should not be a smile on her lips like that, knowing how much we usually tended to cause in property damage if she didn't get through the first layer of blast shielding.
"Ah, a small town in California, above LA. It's near the interstate, to Canada and-"
I guessed where it would be. Not a bad place to live, if you liked those small towns with a thousand or so inhabitants.
"The venue is there?"
She nodded, as I mentally computed the location, and decided what to do for that.
"Where do you want me to pick you up?"
I could be there in about a day or so. I didn't really have the power to teleport or something, or fly, unaided. She was the one with the fancy powers, not me. I'd have to drive there. That was still seven states away.
"Ah... If you'd like to swing by LA? I can just... wait on the sidewalk? I mean, I know what you look like without the goggles."
The goggles did nothing but add a stylish twist to things. The white lab coat and the elegant torc that I wore with my moniker were often the first things that I stored somewhere safe and out of the way. The key to the lockboxes where I hid them was always hidden somewhere safe, a place that only I knew.
"Very well. I guess we will meet then in... When is the wedding?"
I was not very concerned about not arriving in style. I had a different outfit for those formal engagements ready and pressed, proper to wear at all encounters with the formal side of things.
It was why I remained out of jail, after all.
"Ten days' time, will that be enough?"
I nodded at that.
"I'll- third street, at the bus stop, right at the edge of the road where the interstate goes- At the burger place, opposite of it and- You know the spot, right?"
It was easy to pull the spot up on the Moogle Maps app, as I put in the data and then gave a laborious sigh. She had not come closer, nor had I had the time to really worry about her attacking me yet. It was perfectly safe now, it seemed.
"I will see you in ten days then, at... eight in the morning?"
Early, but if I put on the auto-pilot, I could relax for nearly the whole night while the auto-pilot guided me to the location. | 2022-10-07T05:54:42 | 2022-10-07T00:19:41 | 36 | 10 |
[WP] Your dad is wanted in twenty countries, your mom is a serial kille, your little brother is a genius hacker, and your little sister has just joined the Illuminati. None of them would ever want to anger you, though. | My family deal in power and power comes in many forms.
My father's power is economic. Though he is a wanted man in most of the world his business trives. Drugs, weapons, prostitution, covered by a whole slew of perfectly respectable fronts. He is rich enough to bribe almost anyone, buy almost anything. I have often observed him and other hard men as they brokered deals. I have been in firefights as they turned sour. I have looked past the barrel of a gun, into the eyes of the killer pointing it at me, right before my father's bullet pierced his heart. I have seen the consequences of his actions. The addicts, the murders, the broken souls. He has hugged me and I have felt comforted by his presence.
My mother's power is much more direct. It's control over herself as much as over others. I have accompanied her as she stalked a target. I have been her alibi. I looked at her as she made her preparations. If have looked in the eyes of her victims as they lost consciousness, as they woke up bound, as she worked on them, as they died. Countless men, women, childrens, disapearing without a trace. I have seen the fields of shallow graves. I fell asleep in her arms, hearing her lullaby.
My little brother deals in information, he is the greatest hacker in his generation. I have often sat, behind him looking over his shoulder, fascinated as a few lines of codes stripped privacy away to reveal everyone's sordid little shames and secrets. I have watched people through a screen as they thought themselves alone.
My sister's power comes from her connections, gigantic networks supported by the favors offered to their members. I watched her, from the moment she took her first steps in control of one of dad's front business, from the moment where she wormed her way in the secret society. Accompanying her I have met many who wielded power, I have looked them in the eyes.
All the while I have learned about the body, the heart and the mind. The relationship people keep, who they are, who they think they are and what they want to appear to be.
My power doesn't reach as far, but it is far deeper. I am the one they call on, when something goes awry, when they are in trouble. I am their last resort. Because I have learned how people *work*.
Give me some information... or don't, it'll make things a bit slower but give me time, twenty minutes, an hour, maybe a day for the tougher ones and I can crack anyone. Renounce all wealth, go live as an hermit, kill themselves, kill their family. Anything is possible if you know what levers to pull, where to apply pressure. I do not need a gun, I do not need evidence. All I need is already there, ticking away in their own minds. | My lover is special; his family is powerful, and gifted.
My lover was born 20 years ago, in what used to be Sumer, while his parents and older siblings were on the run from INTERPOL. He's told me he was cursed, but after his birth, his father and mother; Brian and Jess, reached notoriety for killing hundreds of people without being caught. His sister, Lilli, is rumored to be a high ranking member of the illuminati, should they exist, and his brother, James, has hacked his way into securing all of them safe passage anywhere they need to go and any accouterments they may need. My lover, though, he doesn't do anything like they do, you could say; you could say he's the secret weapon only used when they are beyond shits creek, when all else fails.
My lover is special, I don't know how to explain it, but I've known him angry, though he doesn't look at me then I don't think, it's not safe. I think it's because he was born dirtily in the cradle of civilization. But maybe he is cursed. It may not sound true, but when my lover looks at you, when you make contact with those ice blue eyes, they pierce your soul. If he makes eye contact with you, you will die instantly. You see, my lover sees me but I cannot see him. I think this is why he loves me, my vision is stricken.
Basil, my love was named as such because the guide traveling along with his family died when he exited his mothers womb. He had the stare of a basilisk. Accommodations have been made to protect his family.
My lover is special.
Sorry if it is weird, I fell asleep in r/nosleep and this is what that produced. | 2017-06-04T07:31:18 | 2017-06-04T07:25:26 | 697 | 70 |
[WP] "You... Do know I'm about to kill you, right?" A serial killer's latest victim doesn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation.
Edit: Everyone's takes on this situation are so different and awesome. | "You... Do know I'm about to kill you, right?" said the killer
Jason was sitting alone at his dimly lit dinner table, in boxers and a tanktop as the masked killer stood over him with a revolver
"No thanks I don't need whatever you're selling pal" said Jason nonchalantly while finishing the last slice of pizza
"I'm not selling you anything, I'm about to put a bullet in your head and then rearrange your organs to make them look like my mother."
"That was a good pizza, I make killer pizzas. Pass me that bag of chips, will ya?" asked Jason
The killer didn't know why he complied, but he did
"Here's your last bag of chips, buddy, enjoy it."
"Ah fuck, it's the last one already? I hate making grocery runs." Said Jason in a genuine tone
The killer is not sure what Jason is doing, none of his previous murders involved someone like Jason.
"Finish quick or I'll jus--
"Did you know that there are 7 days in a week?" jason interrupted
"Uh, yeah, and?" replied the killer
"And did you know that there are 4 weeks in a month?" Jason asked
"Duh."
"Then surely you know that there are 12 months in a year?" Jason asked again
"Everybody knows that, it's common knowledge." The killer said impatiently
"Well then there should be 7 X 4 X 12 days in a year, right?"
"uh huh.." said the killer, unsure of the answer
"That's what I thought, too, until I learned that there are 365 days in a year, that's like an extra month, you believe that shit?!"
The killer is standing there doing the arithmetic in his head when he started to realize that he can't move
"This isolated house has always looked like an easy target for people like you, that's why I live here." Jason said while wiping his hands and mouth
"I bet you didn't know about the neurotoxin that I put on my door and window handles." said Jason in an increasingly sinister voice as he got up and walked toward the killer
"And I'm assuming you don't know why all the other serial killers stopped killing?" Jason continued while jumping in some bloody overalls he pulled from a cabinet
The killer is standing there frozen in place, he can't speak, but he's clearly terrified.
"You'll have all the answers soon enough." Jason told him.
| He look onward, past the trees. His shoulders heaved with every breath, deep and long. Hunched legs supported his massive frame as he squatted on the dry dirt. You could almost feel sorry for him, if you knew the sort of life he'd led, and lack of facilities he had to guide him.
I looked at him in a somber way. He would have never been here, had I not taken him away from his home. They say serial killers start by harming small animals. Puppies just can't be pet in that way, but it was an honest mistake on his part. In a way, that's true here too. It's my fault Curly's wife died at George's thick hands. In essence, I had killed her. And now I was set to do it again. My third kill, and the first to come directly at my own hands. It'll be my last, too, unless I take my own life after.
As he sat on the ground, I watched the wheels in his head, unturning. I stood just behind him. He was a gentle man. But he was the giant, and the villagers were coming with pitchforks.
The only thing heavier than this man's frame was my heart. It sunk deep in my chest. My words were a blur, but his rang clear. He was happy with his newly found thought.
"Tell me about the rabbits, George." | 2015-04-29T08:30:24 | 2015-04-29T08:25:51 | 227 | 31 |
[WP] You are the super villain that defeated the super hero and conquered the earth. You walk out onto your balcony to law down the law for your new subjects. You are greeted by a massive crowd and genuine cheers. | His knuckles were bruised, shaking. Bare bone was exposed under the tattered skin and gashes that covered both hands. At his feet was his rival, his friend, his enemy, his confidant. His equal.
The pool of blood inched closer and closer to Apex's feet, until he stepped back at the sight of himself in the red mirror on the floor. Apex, or rather, Douglas, approached Hollis' body and lifted it out of the grisly pool, stroking his hair away from his face and cleaning streaks of blood off of Hollis' forehead.
"I had wished you would be the one to kill me. Seven long years of fighting after hundreds of years of searching. This was meant to be my end, and you would deny me once more?" Douglas carried Hollis' body out of the cabin and past the treeline into the brush, stopping next to a young birch tree, the white bark in stark contrast to the dull browns and vibrant greens that surrounded it. Douglas let Hollis down gently, then began preparing a small gravesite. His hands twisted in the air and the world bent around him. The smallest bushes grew like wildfire, the vines and leaves twisting themselves into ornate patterns, surrounding Hollis in scenes from his life as a hero and as a human. Flowers intertwined themselves into the knots of the coffin, speckling it in reds, yellows, and white. A second wave of his hand and the ground opened to swallow the coffin, only it was stopped just before the ground could take it. Douglas touched the birch tree deftly and it grew. Branches split and folded into themselves while the trunk grew taller and wider, and once the sound of cracking wood had died down the birch stood as a simple monument, an arch that read "Hollis Danton, the last hero."
Douglas waved his hand a final time and the woods around his cabin quieted. The door stuck slightly when Douglas tried to open it, some of Hollis' blood had dried under it. The bucket and mop made for slow work of the mess that he'd made with Hollis, but Douglas was glad to be kept busy. The TV droned on about the issues that would be solved by regulating and monitoring those that develop or are given powers, but he was more than glad to be left alone. | Today, TODAY is a new day! For we have finally overcome the sense of freedom. Bound by the shackles of this new world order I will lead you in to a golden age. We will strive together for greatness of us all. It'll be hard work, yes, but know that through your struggle that your children and your children's children will have a world where they can have new possibilities. Together, with those standing next to you, you will put in the hard work to create the weapons with which will we have peace. For without peace progress cannot be made and with my great victory we will move forward. Believe in a world without the struggle of hunger or thirst, for all will come from me, your glorious leader.
Things are going to be rearranged, a clean slate for all. Your job is no longer your job, we will decide what is best for all. Understand that I'm not looking for us to be here, stuck in the same old routine with your same old life. Look up, the sun, the stars are ours for the taking. Together we will take humanity to places we never thought imaginable. For knowing that we are safe here on earth is only the beginning. Today we start the rise of humanity, for tomorrow will be when we are above all else in the universe.
| 2017-05-23T10:56:07 | 2017-05-23T08:50:48 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] You gained immortality by absorbing thousands of souls. They have gotten used to it and act like Twitch chat watching a livestream of your life. | I stand above her motionless body, the cold air from an open window biting at my bruised limbs. She was strong, but I had won the fight, as per usual. Another soul, another ten years added onto my already extended life span. I walk away and start to clean any sort of evidence I might've left around the house, as jail is not something I want to deal with again.
As I'm finishing up, I start to hear the voices of my previous victims shouting out from the back of my mind. Dozens of souls, indefinitely trapped, desperately reaching out to be heard. After debating with myself for a bit, I resolve to close my eyes, and listen.
​
>`daniel_underscore1:` LMAO nice
>
>`master_of_comedy:` POGG
>
>`jenda_985:` you couldve justt used a knife dumbass
>
>`literally_dead_lol:` she looked kinda into that :weirdchamp:
>
>`david_thrasher:` YOO she's fucking dead lmao
>
>`12scadoo:` that wqas boring
>
>`usernamewastaken:` i think thats against TOS :monkaS:
>
>`fresh_prince_of_bellend:` GET A GUN NEXT TIME JACKASS
>
>`totallytherealWillSmith:` that was kinda. badass tho :)
>
>`heart_of_GAY:` POGCHAMMPPP
>
>`dreaming_of_memes:` nice one asshole/
>
>`JeremiaJohnson:` that was the slowest fucking fight scene ive ever seen this movie sucks
>
>`big-smoke-is-bisexual:` LOL SHES DEAD
>
>`funny_username:` bro what if she had a dog :pepehands:
>
>`peterpepe1987:` D:
>
>`thisguymurderedmeLMAO:` HAHAHA NICE
​
"...You guys have gotten really annoying." | And a grand council is formed. Each soul becomes a representative. Each representative has an un-silenced voice. Each voice is another vote for every action.
With each passing moment, time becomes less an essence of passing, and becomes yet, a virtually endless sense of, “now.” Phases linked inextricably by fate, exist in tandem, yet preserved.
Thoughts, ideas, become more permanent than stone.
Who could say whether this was a blessing or a curse. With each step towards omniscience, the path stretches out by exponents of infinity. After so many, time means nothing, only experiences.
Imagine a single soul capable of listening to all those who have died, and still be capable of their own thoughts?
Imagine someone that would event want to.
Imagine, rather, that collection being a currency in the cosmic realm, that to carry the essence of your fallen enemies to the afterlife to buy position and merit.
Imagine instead, that instead of a prize, the end result is simply the realization that you may only kill facets of yourself, and that they never truly die.
Imagine the inconstancy if simultaneously having thousands of perspectives on every subject?
How... inconvenient. Indeed. | 2020-09-26T17:40:12 | 2020-09-26T15:47:06 | 251 | 102 |
[WP]You are an omnipotent god. Out of boredom you decided to live an ordinary human life vowing not to use your power. 15 years has pass and you have a 9 to 5 working for a major tech company. Your boss has been tormenting you for years and you have reach your limit | *4..3..2..1.. Just breathe, Ginger. Five seconds at a time. You can take five more seconds of this moron.*
Steven Gelster, the bane of my existence. As a human, anyway. A reminder to all you bosses out there: you may be ranked higher than your employees, but never underestimate us. Especially when we happen to be an omnipotent god. *Control yourself. This is about discipline. If you wanted to, you could wipe this planet clean. Wipe that smirk right off his..*
"-Ms. Talison. Do you understand?" He looks down at me. I slowly release the nails I've been digging into my palm, unclenching my fist.
I look up at him with a smile. "Thank you so much for your input, Mr. Gelster," *it's a great reminder of how much I hate you.*
"I have to say, though, don't you think it's going to be a *little* bit difficult to reprocess the 12,000 orders I just put out, just because you don't like the shade of gray I chose?"
He squints at me.
"This may not be important to *you*, Ginger, but I happen to value our customers more than the consequences of the poor choices of my employees."
"Of *course*, I *completely* understand how *absolutely important* this is," I lie through my teeth. He begins to walk away as my eyes flash with anger.
Then he turns back.
*Don't you dare say another word to me.*
"Oh, and Ginger?" He calls out, "Let's not forget who's in charge here."
I snap. The room freezes. The clock stops ticking. The printer is silent. My coworkers are like statues, and I'm walking through the wax museum. I walk towards Steven. He's frozen, but its nothing that I've done. I wave my hand as every light in the city shuts off.
My face just inches from his, my eyes glow and pierce him.
A slow, innocent smile begins to spread across my face as I savor the fear in his eyes.
"Oh, I agree completely..." | Another day, sitting in my corner office. Chief Executive Officer. Things have been a lot more entertaining since I decided to come to earth and help speed things up. I knew it could be done without my powers. It just took a lot of knowledge. Humans are, after all, pretty stupid and easily manipulated.
Computers everywhere, cell phones with instant access to everything. Social media, drone weaponry, flat screen TV's. Little did the world know, I made it all happen from behind this desk. Its been glorio.....
*Ring Ring*
*Ring Ring*
"Hello? Yes dear. Of course dear. I know. Yes, I'll do it when I get home! Fine! YES! You already said that!"
*click*
She hung up on me again.
"That's it... I'm done. I can't handle this anymore!"
I blink. It's now 15 years earlier.
"You've got to be crazy to be a human. I am never doing THAT again! I don't care how bored I am..." | 2017-02-19T09:58:18 | 2017-02-19T08:58:06 | 211 | 33 |
[WP] You’re cursed with immortality, not because you sold your soul or you’re a sort of immortal creature but because a few thousand years ago, you stepped on the back of Death’s robe and being the petty shit Death is, he hasn’t forgiven you since.
Edit: okay, wow, I definitely did not expect this to get so popular and to the front page. It was just a little random thing! Thank you so much everyone! I love all your entries! | It is not easy hunting Death down. It prefers to get its job done fast, barely lingering for long after it collects a soul. Much like a janitor who hates his job. You cannot blame it really. If I am forced to do Death's job, I would be pretty sick of it quickly too. Still it does not excuse what Death has done to me. And after several thousand years of practice, I have grown to be quite good at finding Death.
I stare at the red glowing fonts above the door. Drunk driving accident. From what I heard, the guy got flung through his windshield and hit a tree. Quite comical, if you ask me. No one asked him to drink and drive, after all. But I keep my thoughts to myself, pretending to be busy looking at my phone. Opposite me, two men tries to calm a crying woman. Probably friends or relatives of the flying dude.
"Don't worry, I am sure Jack will be fine," I hear one of them say. I stifle a giggle. The only way that guy is going to walk away from this is to step on Death's robe himself. And then I see it at the corner of my eye.
The unmistakeable glow of darkness. Followed by a sudden drop in temperature. A white, pale figure covered in the blackest robe you can imagine. Enough to strike fear even to the bravest of men. Not to me though. I have seen Death too many times to have any fear left for it. More like annoyance.
I quickly rise to my feet and rush to the figure. Death tries to avoid me, but I am always faster. I push Death into a storage room, lock the door behind me.
*Yes, Edward?*
Death's voice asks inside my head. Bored, slow, can't wait to just get the conversation over and done with. I tie a necklace around its neck. Adorned with a cross, blessed with holy water. Maybe this will keep it from disappearing from me this time.
Death looks at the necklace then back at me. The lifeless grey eyes barely betray any emotions.
*It won't do anything, Edward.*
Death announces, reading my mind.
*Can you just let me get on with my job?*
I growled, pinning Death further down. "You know why I am here. And I won't let you go until you get rid of this curse that you gave me."
Death casts another bored look at my necklace, sighs and snaps its finger. The figure in my grasp disappears in a puff of black smoke, and reappears near the door.
*Like I said, Edward, it does nothing.*
I turn to face Death. That priest swore that Holy Water would be effective against creatures from hell. Just like that professor who said that light could probably counteract a creature that projects constant darkness.
Out of desperation, I fall to my knees. "Look, I am sorry that I accidentally stepped on your robes. I could not even see you during that time!" I plead with Death.
Immortality may be a gift to some, I thought that initially too, but after few thousand years of living you get sick of it quite quickly. You can never stay at a place too long or people will begin to question, and you cannot do anything a normal human can. At least, not in an age where your identity is tied to an identity card.
*No.*
Another black puff of smoke and that bugger is gone.
I rush out of the room, to spot the remnants of the black robe disappearing into the operating theatre.
"Just so you know I will keep trying until you take this curse away from me!" I shout down the hallway, only to receive weird stares in return. As someone who is cursed with immortality, I am also cursed with the ability to see Death.
I walk out of the hospital, annoyed. I am almost out of wits at trying to pin Death down. It was not my fault that normal humans could interact with its robe. And it was certainly not my fault Death chose to wear nothing under those robes.
------------
*/r/dori_tales* | *Received 11:34*
>Hey Andy
*Received 11:36*
>Andy! I know you're dying to talk to me! LOL!
"Hey, Great Great Grandpa Andy"
"What is it Little Johnny"
"This Death guy is sending you messages on Twitter"
"Oh what does he want this time?"
*Received 11:37*
>Common Andy, I'll let you die already!
"He's talking about letting you die? I'm confused Great Great Grandpa Andy. Is that why you are so old?"
"No. I'm Just healthy. Tell him to leave you alone, and your grandfather is not here"
*Sent 11:38*
>Grandpa sad he not heer.
*Received* 11:39
>Tell Andy I am serious, I'll be there to visit him in 20.
"He said he's coming over in 20. Can I meet your friend?"
"Sorry Johnny, he's a grown up friend, and a stranger to you"
*Received 11:42*
>You can come too, Johnny.
"Grandpa, he knows my name, and said I can come!"
"No Johnny"
*Received 11:43*
>Yes you can Johnny!
"Grandpa he said I could again"
"Dammit Johnny, give me my tablet, you're not playing games."
*Received 11:44*
>And bring me money my dry cleaning fee.
"And he also said to bring money for dry cleaning"
**Johnny walked over and gave his grandfather the tablet, and frowned.**
"So why can't I meet him, he sounds like a nice pe-"
"Because I said so"
"Aww"
"Go To your Room"
**Johnny left the room and went to his room.**
*Received 11:52*
>Are you paying attention still?
*Sent 11:54*
>No, leave me alone.
**Andy waited passed out with the tablet in his lap, till there was a knock at the door, and the grandfather clock dinged. Andy got out of the chair and opened the door to see death there in his robes and scythe**.
"Hi Andy, how was your 267th birthday this year on earth?"
"Cut to the chase death, you just want your damn money"
"Yep, and let me guess, you still won't pay it."
"Nope"
"Someday once I get rights, I'm going to take you to court for it."
"The same day you decide to do your job."
"Hey it's not my fault, you decided to have muddy boots and not watch where you were walking when I was taking your wife to heaven."
"And its not my fault you wear all black, maybe you should of worn a green robe."
"Hmph."
"See you again next year, Deathy-darling!"
**Andy shut the door on death, and death yells from the outside.**
"Oh Come-on Andy, you only owe me about Tree-Fiddy!"
​
​
​ | 2018-10-12T09:31:29 | 2018-10-12T09:13:58 | 1,629 | 96 |
[WP] The gritty realistic R-rated movie adaption of your favourite show as a kid. | Fade in on a boy, beat to hell and bleeding from a head wound, stumbling up a hill. He can’t be older than 10. He’s gripping a tattered baseball cap in one hand and clutches his side with the other. He trips, cries out in pain and drops the hat.
The wind catches the red hat and it gets carried off into the smoke and dust. He bites his hand to keep from crying out. He draws blood. He reaches out toward the vanishing hat, tears streaming down his face.
Suddenly the red hat, after vanishing completely, seem to circle back. The boy pauses. Then jumps in alarm and scrambles for something on his belt. A bird with a ten foot wing span and claws like meat hooks swoops down at the boy- the boy ducks. The bird racks its talons along his back, eliciting a scream from the boy.
Overhead, the demonic bird circles around for another attack.
Close up on the boy, climbing forward, snatching the red hat off the ground.
Close up on the hat being jammed onto the boys hat, brim facing forward.
He pulls the brim around to face his back.
Pan out to show his eyes, gleaming with a new ferocity.
In his hand half cocked hand rests a half red, half white sphere.
The bird, a fearow, screeches above.
The boy’s shout sounds of primal rage.
He throws the pokeball, it blossoms with a crack of blue light.
Fade to black.
White text fades in.
“Gotta catch ‘em all…”
| She was running down the halls. "Ha Ha" a voice laughed down the hall. "There's the exit, if I could just get there" Suddenly the floor gave out underneath her, and she broke her legs when she hit the ground. "Ha Ha" The voiced cackled again A large, bloody mouse emerged from the shadows, knife in hand "Ha Ha"
Mickey, in theaters this summer
Rated R | 2016-05-13T10:40:01 | 2016-05-13T07:48:07 | 33 | 19 |
[WP] You have been trapped inside a glass orb for years. Sitting on a shelf in an old store, your only entertainment is that of the clerks daily routine. One day however the clerk is attacked, in defence the orb is thrown and shatters upon impact. Finally releasing you from your cage. | **EATEN**
My great-great-great-great-great grandson cowers in fear, his hands trembling over his head. Blood and sweat mix on his face. The soup dribbles down his chin and then plops onto his blue nametag. It obscures the first letter. Peter becomes *eter*. He is not an eater. He is about to be eaten.
One of the burglars puts the muzzle of his gun in Peter’s face. He interrogates him about the location of the safe. What safe? His compatriots rampage through the aisles, smashing and grabbing and laughing and thinking it feels good to pillage.
They do not know what it is to pillage. They live in a baby-proofed city inside a baby-proofed country inside a baby-proofed world. Even their violence is a whimpering shadow of what once was. Humanity has succumbed to decadence and failure. I am glad to be alone in my cage.
The burglar with the gun cocks back the hammer and tells Peter he is out of time. I look away in disgrace. How many men of our family will die on their knees? Every generation is weaker than the last. Peter has met the fate he deserves.
And then a flash. A deafening sound. One of the burglars cries out in pain. I look to Peter: he has yanked the man with the gun to the ground, his arm twisted backward. The gun has scattered across the floor. Peter’s jaw closes around the man’s ear and when it opens again the ear is gone.
Peter crawls after the gun. The burglars are visibly shaken when he spits the man’s ear onto the floor. Their façade of ruthlessness has been punctured; their baby-proofed world still has one sharp edge left. They are too afraid to intercept Peter and before they know it, Peter is in possession of the gun.
As he stands, the weapon in his trembling hands, he slips, tumbles backward onto his ass. The biggest of the three burglars crosses toward me, seizing the opportunity. His broad shoulders block my view of Peter. I should hear a gunshot now but I do not. The man should crumble but he stays standing. Has Peter lost his nerve?
Suddenly everything goes dark – an enormous hand grasps my glass cage; dark, pinkish light filters through the webbed skin where the fingers meet.
I am thrown.
I sail through the air toward Peter. His face is contorted in anguish and confusion. His finger pulls at the trigger but nothing happens. The gun only had one bullet. He is defenseless.
I collide with Peter’s chest. I collide with the world.
A thousand shards of glass explode in every direction. I take my choice of which to make my vessel. I cling to a shard shaped like a “V,” a reminder of our old family crest. We hurtle through the air. Gravity meets us.
When I hit the floor, the shard skids to a halt. I feel my body returning. Under my feet, a reflection looks back at me. In a matter of seconds I am returned to full form. In a few more seconds I have surpassed that form.
I tower over Peter, his head lolling. My arms look vaporous, red, my fingers are wispy, like I’ve only been sketched and not yet fully drawn. It’s no matter: I feel the power coursing through me. The same power the put me in that cage has now been caged inside of me.
I turn to the three burglars, one holding his head where his ear should be, huddled together. They are petrified.
I am hungry.
Now we will see who is eaten. | The glass shatters and there is nothing for a moment. Hearing his heart in his ears, he closed his eyes. Upon the noise fading he realized he felt something he hadn't in a long time, he was stretched out. He didn't feel sleepy. Had the curse been lifted? He wonders but looks around and eyes go wide as the modern items give him a sense of slight dread. Was he in danger? Then something else took his mind away from observations. A hand wielding a knife, he grabbed it without thinking and broke the man's hand. "YOU DARE RUSH ME" he growled through his mask with the beak.
Hearing the man yell in agony, the doctor ducked and kicked the intruder off his feet. Sending him through the glass and into the busy street with ease. Wondering why the intruder was attacking this woman he then was jarred from his memories. Turning he ran over and froze a minute. Looking down he was still in his thermals, leather and cloak. What must he look like? Could he help her? He asked himself in his thoughts before suddenly seeing her try to sit up to hold her abdomen then scream, blood oozing from between her fingers on her abdomen and through her teeth.
"It hurts" she says, almost sounding worried. Looking at her he then kneeled next to her and held her head up when she seemed to close her eyes and start to let herself fall backwards. One hand holding her head, the other hovering over her abdomen. "I can't heal it completely but I will help you best I can" he says reaching into his bag and taking out supplies with one hand the other hand lightly putting her head down and moving hair from her face.
"I'm cold....eqse i don't wanna die...." she whimpered, her eyes rolling back into her head as other humans crowded around; one talking about calling some number. He had to focus, throwing a cleaning utensil. He cleared his throat, and began to chant. His fingers very slowly turning black as her wound heals, her pain slowly fading. Still bleeding he seemed to then touch his gloved hand to her abdomen and she was healed but then he fell next to her.
The girl had hazy vision but she saw him fall next to her. Moving her head she tried to understand before she started fading again as sirens blared in the distance.
EDIT: holy hell this blew up, im so glad so many liked it, means a lot truly for on the top of my head. You guys are crazy and I love you for it as does my plague doctor OC | 2021-11-12T11:26:43 | 2021-11-12T10:27:03 | 806 | 67 |
[WP] Everyone from looters to knights sat around the table at the last tavern. Screeches and the thud of bodies ramming the wall from outside. The tavernkeeper shouts last call as they all lift their mugs. "If we don't survive let us atleast die with honour." | It was never going to be a fair fight.
The fucks. The bastards.
It wasn’t just that they outnumbered us ten-to-one, nor that our people were starving, or even the fact that our will had already been broken by a bloody war for independence. Quite simply, the Rarotoan Shock Troopers had powers we’d never *dreamed* of.
Alexander, our captain, our fearless leader, sat broken and dejected at the head of the table. Most of our unit had already been killed, their usual spots filled in by looters and drunkards. It should’ve been offensive, but none of us could muster the strength to shoo them away. Not with the enemy banging on the door, our deaths imminent.
Lylana James raised her glass. I’d never seen her drunk before, hell I’d never seen her *smile*. “You know what’s funny,” she said, her grin loopy and her words slurred.
“What,” Fero barked. He was a petty theft, a convict that had escaped in the chaos of the invasion.
Lylana put her arm around him, “When we won our god damn inde...ummm..” she stumbled drunkenly.
“Independence,” I suggested.
Lylana snapped, pointing at me. “That’s it, when we won our independence, we all thought that’d be the end. Turns out we’ll have exchanged one bloody king for a fucking Rarotoan conquerer,” she raised her glass again, “*Lady Freedom is dead, here’s to her!*”
There was a mumbled cheer as those sober enough to listen raised their glasses in unison and poured out a little of their booze.
I must’ve been caught up in the moment, for I didn’t hear Captain Alex approach from behind.
“Can I ask you something, Timothy,” he said.
I stood up, three fingers to my temple in our unite salute. “Of course, Sir. Anything.”
He smiled sadly. “Am I...*Was I a good man?*”
I swallowed. “Sir. Without you, I’d be rotting in the ground. A fate I’d wager most of us would’ve shared had you not found us and taught us what it meant to have honor. You are wise, but humble. Strong, but compassionate. You are not simply a *good* man, Captain. You are a *great* man.”
The Captain sighed. “How easy it is to be great, how rare it is to be *good*.”
“Sir, I did not mean...”
He placed a hand on my shoulder, “Peace son...I know what you meant.”
With that, he turned and returned to his drinks.
I looked around at what remained of our unit. In the war for independence, we’d been renowned for our skill and prowess. The enemy had learned to fear us. Perhaps that had been why the Rarotoan invaders had waited until we left the land of Aitu before striking.
There sat Cassio Tal, the man they called the Prince of the Sea. For in water, he was the most dangerous warrior in the world.
Drunk and smiling, Lylana “Swift-Sword” James could probably still outclass the whole of Rarotoa in single combat.
Boris Ha’Haim stood in the corner with thick arms crossed over his barrel chest. Stories spoke of how his axe could drop a 100ft Redwood with a single swipe.
I cursed under my breath. Why had the gods allowed *me* a simple scribe to survive when so many others in our unit might’ve made a difference. Why not Daric Thundersword or Ailain the Moon-Thief? Daric had been killed in that initial explosion, I’d watched Ailain take a spear to the throat, fending off seven Shock-Troopers while me and a few others had escaped.
What could *I* do? Nothing.
“LAST CALL,” the Tavernkeeper shouted. A few laughed. Most simply went up and poured themselves another drink.
Before I realized what I was doing, I found myself standing at the center of the table. Lucid eyes turned to me, I scanned the crowd searching for the one set that mattered. It was true, there was very little that I could do. *But if I could inspire the Captain...*
Some bustled about drunkenly, the sounds of a burning city outside seeped through the walls.
I searched the corners of my mind. Then I found it, lost but not forgotten, a poem I’d read long ago. It was perfect.
I cleared my throat, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants. I closed my eyes.
“*There’s a breathless hush in the Close tonight*—
*Ten to make and the match to win*—
*A broken branch, and a blinding light*,
*An hour gone and the last man in*.
*Tis not for the sake of ribbons pinned to coat*,
*Or the selfish hope of glory and fame*.
*But the Captain’s hand on my shoulder smote*—
*Get up and fight! And play the game!*
*The desert sand is sodden red*—
*Red with the wreck of a square that broke*;—
*The spears shattered and the Colonel dead,*
*And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.*
*The river of death has brimmed his banks,*
*Home is far, and honor just a name,*
*But a voice rings out and rallies the ranks:*
*GET UP AND FIGHT, AND PLAY THE GAME!*”
When I finished the room was silent. I opened my eyes. *What was I thinking, this would never-*
The Captain climbed up on the table. “Get up and fight! And play the game,” he boomed.
Lylana joined us, twin swords of twirling silver drawn. “Get up and fight! And play the game!”
Cassio stood, characteristically calm. “I’m always up for a game,” he said.
Boris picked me up with one arm and held me high above his head. “PLAY THE GAME!”
One by one, he remaining members of or broken unit stood and repeated the call, those who still had them preparing their weapons.
Then even the drunks, the looters, the escaped convicts and the street urchins joined us. The produced steely knives from tattered sleeves, brass knuckles from pockets, one drew an iron side-sword. “GET UP AND FIGHT! GET UP AND FIGHT! GET UP AND *FIGHT*!”
The Captain drew his sword and the cheers stilled. Such had always been his presence, a feeling like when a lightning storm sets your hair to stand. “Those dipshits out there think they can burn our city without a fight! Will we let them?!”
“*NO*!”
“They want to sweep in here and steal our booze! What say you?”
“*NO!*”
The Captain set his feet, the room’s anticipation palpable. “*THEN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD,*” he called, “*GET UP AND FIGHT!*”
“*AND PLAY THE GAME!*”
The heavy door of the bar crashed open.
The Captain spun and rammed his sword through the leading shock-troopers eye, “*FOR VICTORY OR DEATH!*”
~
r/CharlestonChews | Devon looked at his friends Marcus and Kalena beside him at the table. The three of them were cramped into the small tavern with close to twenty others. They had been through a lot in the past two years, and now it looked like this was the end. Outside the stone walls of the sturdy dwarven building raged the endless hordes of undead flailing themselves at the tavern in the dark of night. The room was silent as people nursed their drinks. The final cask had been opened yesterday, and these were the last mugs of ale anyone here would ever see.
Devon shifted anxiously, his armour clinking around him; Belgar, the owner of the tavern promised that the walls his forefathers built would hold for a year, and while they might just do that, they didn't have food and drink for a year. In fact, they didn't have either for tomorrow. He looked out at the crowd for perhaps the 100th time that hour, praying that someone would come up with a plan to save them. But no one did. Even though most of the people in here had experience with fighting monsters and other unsavoury creatures, there were simply too many outside. He looked at his friends again, Marcus only had a single bundle of arrows left, and Kalena had exhausted most of her magic just getting them there. She was sleeping now, her head lay on Marcus' shoulder. Her face seemed strangely peaceful for the situation at hand, Devon thought to himself. His hand subconsciously went to the symbol hanging around his neck. Running his fingers over the worn silver surface he made a silent prayer. His goddess felt very distant from him right now, separated by the masses of savage corpses outside and whatever foul necromancy had brought them here.
As he sat there, repeating this small ritual, eyes gazing into nothingness he felt a spark. Faint and quiet, but unmistakably there. His heart skipped a beat as his deity reached out to him, granting one last blessing. He stood immediately, the combined sounds of rattling armour and the heavy chair scraping the floor commanding the attention of everyone in the room. All eyes were on him, desperate for an answer to their problem. "She is with me," he began haltingly, "she is with us." He held up the silver symbol of a shield. "She has answered my prayers, we have a chance now." He looked around at the people staring at him, all of them with their breath caught in their throats, the first time any of them had known hope in days. Then he looked up at the thick rafters of the building. A plan began to form in his mind, "we need to get on the roof. I have an idea." Everyone exploded into action, hefting axes and swords, stringing bows, adorning shields. Belgar and the other dwarf in the room, Grandin began surveying the ceiling, deciding how best to get through it. In less than a minute everyone was on their feet preparing for the ascent. The dwarves went first, hacking the roof apart until there was a hole big enough to climb through. One by one the people of the tavern clambered up to the roof. Devon was the last one up, and when he saw the sea of zombies before him his heart dropped. He looked to Marcus and Kalena and steeled himself, his friends, these people were counting on him. He was their only chance of survival now.
Devon pointed to the hills in the distance, where the faint pinks of dawn were beginning to creep into the sky. "As soon as you see an opening you all need to run, your lives depend on it." He hesitated before continuing, "I will distract them so that you all can escape." Marcus grabbed his friend by the arm. "You don't have to do this Devon, we can find another way." Devon shook his head, smiling weakly. "We're out of time, either it's me, or it's all of us." Marcus' arm fell to his side. Crestfallen, he looked at his friend for a moment before embracing him one last time. Kalena hugged him next, her eyes filled with sadness, "we'll miss you terribly" she said softly with a lump in her throat. Devon looked at his friends, all three pairs of eyes were wet with tears. "Remember me honestly, and be happy for my sake if not your own. Live your lives as I know you were meant to, fighting and free." The tears were streaming freely from Marcus and Kalena's faces as they turned away, ready to break through the horde.
Devon moved to the highest point of the peaked roof and clutched his holy symbol. His friends watched as he began to glow, softly at first, but the shining grew brighter and brighter until Devon beamed with resplendent light. The undead stopped their groaning, stopped their gnawing, stopped their shambling and stared. Mesmerised by the holy light they were compelled into stillness. Belgar was the first to move, "run ye fools!" He shouted as he leaped from the roof, crashing into zombies. He rolled to his feet, and the zombies lay still, entranced by the light. "Run!" He shouted again as he made his way towards the rising sun. The rest of them began to move, off the tavern into the sea of monstrous dead around them. Marcus took one last look at his friend before turning to follow the rest. "Goodbye Devon, may we meet again in another life" he said before climbing down the wall. They ran, pushing past the undead as they went, until at last they broke through. The run for the hills lasted for what seemed like hours, but as they topped the first hill the sun was still rising to meet them.
Marcus and Kalena turned back to see the light fade from their companion and the zombies begin to reanimate. They watched as the zombies resumed their assault, this time creeping up the sides of the tavern. The zombies crested the roof like water, the tavern ceasing to be such, now only a blob of corpses in the horde. They waited with bated breath, for the hope that Devon would prevail, and join their side once again. But none came, and as the sun rose behind them to turned toward it, to continue the lives their friend's sacrifice had bought them. | 2019-03-16T14:58:11 | 2019-03-16T14:24:40 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] The big bang was the result of a super weapon used to end a massive war billions of years ago. The explosion has finally dissipated and reconnaissance teams have been sent out to report the damage. You've been assigned to investigate the current state of the milky way galaxy. | "Report, sector 3- anything yet?" A voice crackled over the radio.
"Damnit, Qi, stop using that ancient pile of shit receiver already. I hate the damn crackling and snow. Just use our normal quantum transmitters.
"Sorry, Chuu, I'm afraid I can't do that." Still crackly.
"Now you're quoting that rubbish? The strange, flat hologram was sent through *radio waves*, Qi. Whoever made it has the intelligence of a Makha fruit. Anyway, I'm almost to the sun of XTF-864, and there's still nothing here. Couple gas giants, nothing interesting. Might be able to harvest the ring on one of them, though. Are we sure there's anything in this shithole?"
"Roger, roger. Affirmative."
"Will you *cut that out*? Speak like a respectable lifeform, would you?"
"Fine, but I'm still using this old transmitter. The higher ups said this quadrant was where the signal came from, but all I've found is a nice little ice rock way back here that we could play astroball with!"
"Ooh, maybe later," Chuu's flagellum warbled with excitement, "We'll get in trouble if we don't at least search this place properly first. I can't believe how much the damn universe expanded, look at all this worthless crap. So much empty space and dark matter."
An alarm blared, red lights flashing through the cockpit. Chuu was losing his mind trying to cut it off. "Qi, there's something here. I've found a level 2 planet, plenty of flowing liquid and oxyginized air. I think this is what we're looking for. Warp to sector xeno-12 right now."
A massive squadron of spacecraft exited Earth's atmosphere, approaching the scouting craft. Their forward lights switched on, blaring into Qi's spectrum sensors.
"Fuck. Captain, this is Chuu. I found them. Qi, cancel the warp and stand by."
Chuu's ship was surrounded by three fighters and locked into a triangular forcefield that infected his systems, paralyzing his ship. Slowly, he was dragged closer and closer until he was dropped into the mouth of a massive star cruiser.
Chuu knew if he resisted, things would only get worse. After all, he was a scout, right? His job was to scout for life, and now he'd scout for intelligence.
*Let's see what these guys are about.* | Professor,
You promised this was a simple assignment. I've seen better galaxies on my rounds in the cosmos, but the Milky Way has some unfortunately unique features to report. A shame, really. I hate doing paper work, as you know, so a response is expected to this message. Not that you *care* about the work your doctoral candidate does. Why you bothered sponsoring me, I'll never know.
See, the galaxy I was appointed to monitor wasn't like the others.
It has some mold growing on it.
Could be a similar infestation, but who knows. I'm just a student.
However, the culture *is* developing at an astonishing rate. As you taught me, I sent down a catalyst to see how it would respond, but the bacteria eliminated the foreign element rather brutally.
I *was* going to scrub it away with a few cleansing asteroids, but I thought you might like to study it while the molecules are quarantined on their rock. You fifth dimension brainiacs like poking at things anyway, so let me know if you're interested.
A response *is* expected by the way. Within the 24 standard galactic rotations you promised you'd respond by in your syllabus, otherwise I *will* scrub it clean, just to academically spite you.
Best,
Gerolus, O.D | 2016-03-05T20:09:26 | 2016-03-05T19:04:24 | 290 | 93 |
[WP]: When you died you find out that souls are put up for auction for various religions to bid upon. When you are present on the block, a bidding war started that has not been seen in millennium and you do not know why every religion wants your soul. | My sherpa whispers, "It's never gone this high before. What is it about you?"
I think about my time on earth. Sure, I was raised an orphan. But otherwise, I was a normal guy. I woke up, sold insurance, went home, kissed my wife and went to bed.
"I don't know what it is," I say.
The bidding ends. The auctioneer yells, "That's a brand new record! Congratulations to the winning bidder: Siddhartha!" The auctioneer turns to me and says, "Please follow your sherpa to your home."
We walk the streets of the afterlife to find my house, but my sherpa can't seem to find it. So I say, "Can't I just take any of these? They're all empty."
And he says, "No, they belong to some folks who have yet to return."
"What do you mean 'return'?"
"Well, you're born here in a house. Then you're sent down to earth. And when you come back, you live there again. I mean, you're only gone like 100 years."
My sherpa is totally stumped. But he sees Siddhartha and Jesus walking toward him, so he flags them down. "Guys, sorry to bother you, but where did AI-43 live before he left for earth?"
Jesus looks straight at me and says, "That's the thing: He's never been here before."
EDIT: Clarity | "one billion soul dollars." "Fuck you zeus, one and half billion" "3 billion" billion nice try Anubis.""Fifty billion" "Youdammit Yaweh, you always get the good ones." "Going once, going twice, sold to the Man in white. Congrats Yaweh you just won the rights to the best lover in the mutiverse.""But I am a virgin." | 2014-11-30T19:20:29 | 2014-11-30T18:46:20 | 1,383 | 24 |
[WP] You accidentally divide a number by zero on an ancient mechanical calculator. It loops calculations over and over, with no signs of stopping. Centuries later, it produces an output. | A slab. That’s my life. An ancient stone slab.
I’ll never forget the day that I found it, January 23rd, 2011. Now, it had been over six and a half years since I discovered the device, resting in the sand in Cairo: a little piece of rock with ten numbered buttons, four operator buttons, and a screen that gives off no light. The press assaults me with questions now, as do researchers and any citizen that walks by me and recognizes my face. They can’t take it from me—it was on my property—but everyone is fascinated by it. And although I don’t want the world’s attention because of this thing, I am fascinated by it too.
Everyone has their questions: Was it dropped here by aliens? Is it just a prank? Is it proof that the Illuminati exists? I don’t think it’s any of those things. Somehow, somewhere in my brain, I know that this was created by a human, a long time ago, by a brilliant mind that was forgotten as time and the world moved on, uninterested.
Despite its age, this thing, which must be a calculator, runs numbers across its screen again and again and again. The only clue as to what it’s trying to calculate is a small expression in the upper left corner: 1 / 0. That would be futile, of course. 1 / 0 doesn’t have an answer. Yet still it computes, through day and night, just displaying the symbols, trying to answer a question that mathematicians across the world have already given up on.
Now, today, I wake up, push the sheets aside, and stand, feeling the 8 hours of stillness from the previous night in my aging legs. A pang of fear strikes me, one that strikes me every morning: Will I ever see the end of these calculations? Or will I die before I see the answer? If there is an answer, that is. That second thought simply causes me to let out a little half-hearted groan.
I walk over to the desk opposite my bed and do the most important thing I do every day: check the calculator. It’s flipped over, so that its smooth stone is all that I see. I pick it up, feeling the rock, and once again think of of the long-forgotten mind so many years ago. As I turn it over, the sense of futility in my heart subsides, for there it is! The answer!
“ERROR: LOW BATTERY.”
| The greatest computer in the universe was finished with its task. An entire planet to calculate the question to the answer to life, the universe, and everything.
The galaxy waited with bated breath for the calculation to complete but suddenly a phenomenon was propagating across the computer. Around the globe creatures of all types stopped what they were doing, looked at the sky and began to chant. News crews flocked to the planet, babel fish were dispersed and sentients from across the galaxy visited the planet to hear and understand the question for the ultimate answer.
After weeks of celebration and parties held by visiting aliens, activity began to die down. Soon after, the native creatures ceased their droning into the sky, began to awaken, sit where they had stopped weeks ago, and slip into comatose states. With no memories left to release the entire computer stagnated and began to shut down. IT was contacted and technicians were sent out to attempt to turn it off and back on again but it was no use. Malicious code inserted centuries prior had changed the directive to a pursuit for the answer of life divided by zero and moments before the answer could be extracted a memory leak had slain the computer. The party completely dispersed, IT billed for its services, and the Vogon destructor fleet arrived to clear the computer out of the way for the construction of an intergalactic highway.
Arthur Dent, alone in his house, thought of nothing as he stared at his tea and the world turned to nothing.
| 2017-09-08T11:31:31 | 2017-09-08T08:39:09 | 281 | 85 |
[WP] It was only after they invaded that the aliens realized, to their horror, that humans had superior technology in all things, except inter-planetary spaceflight. | We first detected them after a great mass of energy was released on their planet, it was logged as a new species developing space flight and set to be investigated when they made regular journeys around their own solar system.
They didn't progress as expected so a scout team was sent to investigate, the last messaged received was "warning hostile indigenous life forms, local area known as Roswell, hard landing imminent".
Plans were set to invade, it took only 3 year cycles on Glargth before we left, destination: Earth. In the time where the invasion was planned a space ship was seen leaving the planet, reaching it's local moon.
I was given the honour of leading the invasion with a type 6 semi-permanent base ship, I was to land it, set up the forward base, have my team set up defences, and collect as much info as we safely could and everything went without a hitch, we landed, set up the base, built the defences, it was a strange planet, day cycles seemed to be seconds compared to back home, the weather was near unpredictable and the gravity was overly heavy.
Not long after we landed the team I set to find out as much info as they could captured one of the indigenous species seemingly capable of higher reason, I felt the need to show him the level of danger his species was in, I loaded my best weapon, a gunpowder propelled rifle, it could fire a metal ball 50m easy, with accuracy of only 5m of where it was pointed at full range.
I took him to a firing range we had set up and shown him first the guards weapons, the standard issue weapon of the military, he looked confused, I wish I spoke the language so I could truly gauge his fear.
Then I took out my rifle, aimed, fired one of the best shots of my life, near bullseye on the 25m distance range on the smaller target size of 3m across. I was smiling, my pride at the shot must have been evident to even the primitive creature, but then I heard it...he was making a noise...it almost sounded like, laughter.
| Dr. S.F. Mercola
Peking University, Department of Neurobiology
2259, March, 15
Human greed and shortsightedness—an intergalactic evolutionary trait?
Those in the scientific community have lamented the inability of humans to deal with basic market externalities and tragedy of the commons in the recent century. However, the problem is old as woman itself. Locke made the concept most famous nearly half a century past. Many millennia old religious texts too quarrel with the hedonistic manners of man. In combatting planetary issues, particularly the rampant effects of 20th and 21st century pollution, these pitfalls are evident. For true species survival and extraplanatary proliferation however these traits seem necessary. We provide evidence, based on data from the Great Invasion and newly acquired galactic species data obtained from the Intergalactic Alliance for Growth, that this shortsightedness is a necessary trait for intergalactic survival. We propose a theory to describe the phenomena and have dubbed it the Wells Effect. | 2014-10-17T10:09:09 | 2014-10-17T08:36:32 | 94 | 19 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | "I used to be an adventurer like you, but then I took an arrow in the knee."
*What?*
I stood atop a steep, winding set of stairs with a breathtaking view of a charming town. Every building was adorned with yellow roof tiles and horse sculptures, beautiful in their uniformity. At the bottom of the stairs was a small but quaint courtyard, and at the center stood a giant tree, full of radiant pink blossoms that seemed to emanate waves of healing. I remember buying my son this game, but I never knew it could be this visually stunning.
"No lollygagging," the guard droned, hands at his side, motionless. I figured it was as good a time as any to just walk and explore.
As I took my first step down the stairs my ears were immediately assaulted by what seemed to be some priest shouting a ridiculous sermon. Something about a Talos. What the hell is Talos? *Hmm,* I thought, *probably should stay away from that guy. He's probably like a Jehovah's Witness equivalent.*
Then, upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, I felt a sudden tap on my shoulder. I turned my head to see a woman dressed in old and skimpy armor, with green streaks of paint seemingly splashed on her face. And why the hell did she smell like Buster?
"Where were you, Shield-Brother? We needed you in our time of need and you weren't there."
Before I had a chance to even think, a set of dialogue options suddenly popped up in my vision. It was probably a better idea to select one of those rather than to reveal my complete and utter confusion. I'm married. I've learned my lessons.
"I was on a task given to me by the Harbinger," I went, crossing my arms to emphasize the righteousness of my plight.
But before she could motion over to the dead bodies laying not ten feet from the courtyard, I was suddenly spun around 180 degrees to another dialogue, this time with three bandit-lookalikes with weapons drawn. Was I going to fight these guys?
"We're here to teach you a lesson."
Wait. What? No dialogue option? Not a chance to just talk it out like civilized people? A red bar suddenly flashed on the top part of my view, and before I could think about drawing a weapon, a sword flashed before me and slashed at my midsection.
I had never been slashed by a sword before. The sensation of pain I felt was akin to the most massive paper cut one could imagine. My hand pressed against my inadequate steel armor, feeling the warm trickle of blood oozing out. Clearly I was not at a very high level.
Another red bar flashed on the bottom of my view. Was that my health? It was a third of the way gone and two other swords were coming straight for me. Panic set in.
I had to run.
From my original view at the top of the city, I noticed the city gates down at the bottom, so my goal was to just get the hell out of there. I flew downhill, running past all kinds of weird beings: not only guards and other humans, but elves, lizard-like folk, and some weird cat-being with a tail. If someone wasn't trying to kill me, I might've stopped to chat a bit, but then again, this just wasn't the time for lollygagging.
Finally bursting through the city gates, I collapsed to my knees to catch my breath. Why was I being chased by a bunch of thugs? Why weren't the guards helping me out? And more importantly, was I self-regenerating?
Then, I heard it. The distinct pounding of drums and the chants of an all-male choir permeated the air. Then the music came.
B-C#-D, D-E-F#, F#-A-E, D-C#-B...
My head slowly turned towards the sky. A giant winged behemoth was in the distance, coming straight towards me like a missile. A dragon.
"Dammit, I should've just gotten him the newest installment of Call of Duty." | There certainly are no cigarettes here. No beer. Not even a strip club. But I've got a squirtle. Hunter tells me it's the best one to start with, and he is the foremost expert in the house. The Pokemon enyclopedia (pokedex right hunter?), tells me it can do "tackle", and "tail whip" (doesn't do much...), and now "water gun" which is great I think. I am glad that I've spent so many years taking in this Pokemon business, because I think I can actually fucking make it. My other Pokemon is a little stranger. A "Mankey"... It's strong, I know that, and it seems to tear through these bugs with relative ease... The people here in the forest are telling me about a "Gym" in the next city up. Brock. He's got a big rock snake, and I need Mankey, and Squirtle to be stronger I guess... Level 14, that's what Hunter said. It's cold here at night and I've got a basic tent and some supplies from a the lady who says she's your mother. I got a map from the neighbor girl before I left the first town. It's not laminated and I'll have to be careful, it's already starting to rip... Mankey seems to like being out of his capsule-deal that I caught him in, plus he makes me feel a bit safer. I get the feeling Mankey and I can make make it.
I finally understand the heartbreak my son endured when he can't use a potion item in time. Squirtle fainted today when I had to fight a wild Pikachu. It makes sense to me now. My water type, is week against the electricity type. I can't remember the other type... But I fought a guy at the very beginning of this... He almost killed me but I had the advantage by sheer luck... I can't lose anymore.
Both Mankey and Squirtle, seem to like me now. They aren't hesitant, they are energetic and they are growing quick, and learning stronger moves.
Today I got Squirtle to level 13 and he learned another move that I remember Hunter talking about. "Sure, Bubble is a great move... At the beginning of the game!" Well that's me. Beginning of the game, so it must be great. I've got eight potions, I've got three antidotes, and one "awakening". Tomorrow i should have both my Pokemon to level 14 if I work hard... I have to work hard, I can't be here forever. Tomorrow I fight Brock. Tomorrow is like step one. Look out, rock type bastard.
I got the Boulder badge... I beat him, and now I'll beat the next one, and I'll make it through this. I'm glad I listened to you kid, because you're all I got keeping me going. I think I'll call my Mankey "Artemis", like the God of the hunt. | 2015-05-08T00:17:59 | 2015-05-07T23:28:18 | 659 | 70 |
[WP] When people die they can choose whether they go to Heaven or Hell, you are the first in 1000 years to choose Hell. | *Day 1*
*You know, with all the terrible people in the world, I expected Hell to be pretty occupied and automatically chosen. But I was shocked after my bad car accident to find a choice between Heaven and Hell in the Limbo Waiting Room. Everyone was lined up for Heavenly Stairway and the Hell Slide was seemingly abandoned. Now, you'd probably think that I, being the good guy that I am, would pick heaven.*
*But I'm more of a fall-colour lover. I went down the Hell Slide which, admittedly, is very fun. I'd probably give it another ride if I could. Anyway, after that slide, I met the big man himself who was just about to close the slide. He hugged me with a big grin and gave me the tour. Now I'm next door neighbours with him. This is all happening so fast, so I might go to sleep. I'll talk more about Hell tomorrow.*
*Day 2*
*You'd think being in Hell is like a furnace you can't escape from, but it's actually very warm and cozy. Views aren't that bad either. As for Satan, he's a pretty nice guy. He likes going for walks with his dogs and cooking. And the beds are so soft. They even had secret cameras of Heaven. IT'S SO WHITE AND BLUE. IT'S LIKE A GODDAMN WINDOWS BACKGROUND. My eyes hurt when I looked at that. Me and him soon went and had some meaty ribs. Afterwards, we went to a nice farm he had.*
*They're all wrong. Hell is a great place. The demons are an upstanding community who like to party. Satan's a really cool guy and Cerberus is just a big lug. I'm going to really love it here.*
*Day 3*
(The rest of the book is burnt with unreadable text.) | They’ve really pulled out all the stops. They *say* you can pick Heaven or Hell, but they forget to mention you need to be subordinate to the Big Dude. They do let you take your time, see both sides of the coin, but frankly you’d need to be a dumbass to pick heaven.
Who would want to die like that? Denying yourself for this asshole. Satan doesn’t even run Hell, he just kind of hangs out there with you. It’s cold like back home, and you don’t need to answer to anyone.
All the people in Heaven are cowards. I don’t care how bad it is in Hell, I’d rather be free there than chained in Heaven
**Update:** it’s been fifty years. Pick Heaven. | 2018-08-13T08:57:53 | 2018-08-13T08:20:27 | 53 | 33 |
[WP] As it turns out Humans weren’t the only intelligent life, instead they were just the first. They explored the universe and helped many budding civilizations until one day they just disappeared completely. You are an alien historian who decided to find out what happened, these are your findings. | "I am sure that all of you know who, or what, 'Humans' are; Many space-faring civilizations have stories of these 'Humans' visiting them in their history and setting them on-course to becoming what we now classify as 'advanced species'.
You might be of the opinion that these 'Humans' come from myths and legends, but I, and many other historians, disagree; Although many civilizations came in contact with 'Humans' in their respective pre-recorded eras, those that did get visited after this period all have very similar recordings of these 'Humans'.
The vast majority of these recordings are in the form of paintings and simple written stories, but they all describe 'Humans' in a similar way.
I have always been of the opinions that 'Humans' really existed, and, just like many others, wondered where they have gone.
Now, the answer that many people agree on is that the 'pure' humans simply died out; As they got in contact with different species, they reproduced with these species and their DNA mixed, resulting in 'hybrids'. After millennia of this, now no pure-blooded 'Humans' remain.
I, however, was never satisfied with this answer; There is too much evidence that is contradictory to this answer. Many stories depict 'Humans' as proud and arrogant and it is unlikely that they would allow their species to disappear. Not only that, but there also isn't a single other recorded case where a space-faring species disappeared because of mixing their blood; Even the Gororns, which are considered to be the most 'mixed' advanced species, still have several billion members of their species that are considered pure-blooded.
A problem that I have struggled with for all my life is that I can't leave a question unanswered; I had to know where the Humans had gone.
For this, I travelled to the home planet of the Borungos, the species that had the first recorded encounter with the humans. There, I spent several dozen years not only researching their short history with the 'Humans' but also exploring their stellar system.
There, in the middle area of one of the star system's arms, I discovered an abandoned planet. This by itself is not something special; there are many civilisations that go extinct before reaching the space-faring stage. This planet, however, contained technology that suggests that this species had long since entered the space-faring stage when they left the planet empty; Although I am not very knowledgable about technology, the people in my team that were well versed on this topic, informed me that the technology found there is, at the very least, on the same level as that of Andora, the most technologically advanced civilization in the galactic alliance.
Not only that, but on this planet, I also discovered countless artworks, stories, and other recordings of a species that is very similar to what we describe as 'Humans'.
I am convinced that this planet is the home-world of the 'Humans' and it is, by far, the biggest clue we have to discovering where the 'Humans' have gone.
I intend to continue this research and hope that some of you, even if it is just one person, joins me in this endeavour.
Thank you all for listening. Are there any questions?"
\------
r/Nammos_storytime | The undulating crowd fell silent the moment I ascended the podium. Other than the gentle hum of the engine pulsing outside the window, not a sound could be heard.
I shuffled my notes and stared at the stars glimmering above my head. Looked like Qaar had finally gotten around to installing the transparent ceiling in the auditorium. I would have to thank him after my presentation.
If I wasn't fielding questions for the next millennia, that is.
"Thank you everyone for gathering here today," I began. "I know you all have been dying to hear my findings regarding the fate of humanity, and I thank you for your patience. However, my research has yielded quite alarming results, so I've been working around the clock perfecting this announcement to avoid causing undue panic. For this reason, I'm asking you all politely to save your questions and comments until the end of my presentation."
I tapped my fingers on the podium, doing my best to ignore the ball of anxiety growing in my stomach.
"Being a Kaal of few words, I've decided to stick strictly to the facts. There will be plenty of time to interpret and opine about my data in the coming months, but until further studies are conducted, I warn against this.
"In short, the humans went extinct due to a virus that ravaged their species 20,000 years ago. This virus spread through space travel over several decades, and before long spanned every human colony across the universe. Despite the best efforts of doctors to develop a vaccine, the virus proved incurable, and eventually exterminated all human life.
"After uncovering an ancient human lab on Faldaar, one of my colleagues found a sample of this virus. This virus was well preserved enough to still be active, and was labeled the 'Corona Virus.'
"Unfortunately, after a tragic accident, my colleague released this virus on Balaal, infecting the entire Kaal population. We have since quarantined our colony there, but given the fate of the humans, the virus will most likely spread..."
[Read more at r/DailyHorrorStories](https://www.reddit.com/r/DailyHorrorStories/hot/) | 2020-03-12T11:21:16 | 2020-03-12T10:57:51 | 126 | 33 |
[WP] "Captain! There's a light in the library window! The Nerds call for aid!" "The Nerds call for aid? The Jocks will answer the call!" | The signal had been lit in a moment of desperation. The nerds had been ill-prepared for the onslaught that had awaited them today. Though they had known about the impending war ever since the messenger from the Goths had arrived a few weeks ago, the Nerds had never considered themselves in danger.
This would be their undoing. When the war started, only a few nerds had armed themselves, and what few armaments they had had even less ammunition. But the battle had started soon after breakfast. As the teachers retreated into their offices in anticipation, the theater kids and delinquents had forged an alliance to take as many Nerds prisoner as possible.
The cafeteria was soon lost, and a hasty retreat sounded. The wave of theater kids and delinquents had pushed them back. Four-Eyed Francis had been taken first, whisked away by the leather-clad leader, Bad Bobby. The next to be captured was Algebra Alice, the tutor. When she was down to her last few shots, she lured the enemy into a chokepoint to allow the others a chance to escape. The last anyone saw of her that day, she was surrounded by the cosmetology club and whisked away to an unknown future.
They could not hold the tennis court as it was too open, and the upper commons was currently held by non-combatants from the babysitter's club. So they Nerds fell back to their safest haven, the Welken Library. When they had brought the war to the library, the librarians had offered a scant amount of aid. Just a few weapons confiscated from prior weeks were added to the meager arsenal. And so the Nerds dug in behind the sofas and dioramas, keeping their eyes upon the many entrances.
But they were only seven, and the combined might of the Drama Kids and Delinquents could only be held for so long. And so, the smallest of the nerds, Shy Sally, was sent to the third floor. Long ago, a signal had been devised. A small lantern in the uppermost window of Welken was lit, and Shy Sally shined her beacon down upon the football field.
At first, Shy Sally believed that the signal had been forgotten, or worse, ignored. But the thunder of dozens of footsteps gave her and the nerds below her hope. Unfortunately, a lucky shot winged Shy Sally, and she staggered back down the stairs to be tended to by the other nerds.
The riotous sounds of warfare turned into the sounds of a rout, as Mike "Longarm" McGee led the charge. Football, Baseball, Swim Team, Cheerleaders, and even the Jai Alai team...since when did this school have a Jai Alai court? All these warriors arrived, making short work of the Soldiers of Stagecraft and the Saturday Morning Regulars.
As Mcgee took the last of the delinquents out, he called to Salvador "Speedy" Sangre, from the Jai Alai team, to find the prison where the captured Nerds had been taken and free them.
Mike McGee holstered his Nerf pistol and held out his hand towards Shy Sally. "You lit the signal, and the Jocks have answered. Did you think we would forget our ancient agreement, laid down by the senior classes of last year?"
"No. I knew you would come." Shy Sally overcame her name and stood on her tiptoes, giving Mcgee a kiss on the cheek in thanks.
Nearly a hundred voices all at once taunted 'McGee's got a girlfriend!" and through the blush in his cheeks, Mcgee could only say "Shut up..." | Helmets? Check
Gloves? Check.
Shoulder pads, knee pads, and chest armor? Check, check, and check.
The hocks are ready for battle.
Marching through the hall in a tightly knit formation, studded soles click clacking against the tile menacingly, qnnouncing their arrival.
A commotion ahead. A raised voice.
A note on the door, saying "On a break, will be back in 5 minutes!" An emoji at the end of the sentence. Gross.
The doors open with barely a creak. The element of surprise is still with us, brothers.
"Awl I'm-a sayin' is that theeeeese shtupid booksh don't mean... Turd. Shit. That one. Yous gotsta get outta here and shee what - hic - what the real world... Is. Was. And shtill isss, you know?"
Enemy located. Dressed poorly and smells of booze.
Allies located. Huddled in a corner, cowering in front of the man. One is holding the flashlight. One has wet his pants. The situation is truly dire.
The enemy begins to unzip his pants to urinate on the nearest bookshelf.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Captain says. The formation stands like a mighty phalanx, the group stands as one against a lonesome enemy. May he know fear.
"Ohhh yeeaah? Whats are yous gon' do about it, eh?" The enemy is unafraid.
Helmets tilt forward. Shadows obscure the eyes, which glint menacingly through the shade. Shoulders rise, spread out, like wings of giant birds, chests inflate, making the group almost inflate, but not with air, only pure, tense muscle. Ready to strike.
"I think you oughta leave, mister," Captain says, his voice acquiring a menacing growl.
The enemy shrinks in on himself. The realization if being outnumbered and outgunned piercing through his drunk stupor. "Y-yeah, I think I will..."
The enemy scurries towards the door, picking up speed with every step, until he practically stumbles through them, tripping over himself.
A silence so thick only an end of a confrontation may bring.
"Thanks," the nerd with the flashlight squeaks.
"Yah, later neeerrrds!" you respond in unison, going back to your practice.
((please forgive any spelling errors I might have missed, I'm on mobile)) | 2022-01-12T05:25:34 | 2022-01-12T04:44:10 | 402 | 187 |
[WP] The world's most powerful leaders enter cryostasis as the world is on the brink of ecological collapse, planning to return when stability is assured. Hundreds of years later they are woken to stand trial. "The world was fixed while these men slept. An apology will not suffice". | "I tried, I lead the charge. I had to eventually accept what had happened, that it was too late, and I did what anyone in my situation would have done." The business mogul of olden days; a modern caveman, giving his justifications to what to us, seemed like human sacrifice to appease a god of cash.
"Our records showed you, personally, used a private jet to transport yourself, and solely yourself, maybe a few others on occasion, on an average of 700,000 miles in one year. Sometimes from one location in urban sprawl, to the other side of the city." The judge stated, the voice translating into the businessman's dialect, with only a few emotional tones lost.
"I had to, I couldn't waste time in the fight! I was-"
"You were special? Unique? Above everyone else, above all criticism due to your position?"
"Well, it's not like I could have ridden in public, I would have been swamped."
"I see. I can't say I expected anything more." The court silently glared. A glare of contempt. Life had changed; but the animal fury that resided in all of nature's subjects still resided within it's most adaptable, most 'sophisticated' monkey, thousands of years after they domesticated themselves.
Each case went by like this. The judge and prosecutors did not have to press them hard; the records, and the defendants own statements, buried the ancient priests in their own sins.
And soon, each relic of an age past, was sentenced to the same punishment. It was the same punishment that perhaps the earliest ape that could be called human gave out to it's own friends-turned-criminals: The punishment of exile. Death would not be given; the punished would approach death or strife by themselves.
The punished walked, still dressed in the outfits they themselves picked out of a historical renactor's shop, into the wilds. They walked past all hints of human habitation, the glowing synthetic trees, until the algae-green buildings behind them faded from view. Within each mind, thoughts of mutant horrors rampaged; what lied in wait for them? What had decades of industrial waste done to the land, what malignant, gruesome adaptions did life invent?
Day turned to night. Night turned to day. Stomachs grew empty. Paranoia grew. They soon found themselves on the coasts; beaches of water-worn, perfectly smooth seaglass and strangely colored sand.
The caveman of the skies, from the first sentance, stopped to pick up a hand of the sand. He let it slide through his fingers as his companions searched the water for life, timidly and cautiously.
"Have you guys noticed...not a speck of algae? Not a strand of seaweed? No tidepools."
He tried his best to examine one grain specifically. It seemed at odds with what sand should be.
"No signs of fish, or mammals, or anything. Not in the sea, not in the woods, not in the streams."
The grain seemed plastic. That's what it was.
"There is no horror waiting for us. No mutated, ultra-predator."
The celebrities, the politicians, the business moguls, the preachers of gold, the wanna-be gods and goddesses of vanity and over-consumption, they all stared at the one pioneer in the sand.
"I led innovation after innovation. Pioneered and championed whatever I could. I was a hero."
"But I was still a man. And so was everyone else. We all were human."
He stopped running his fingers through the sand. He sat, staring at the unfathomably beautiful skies- void of all light pollution.
One leader waded out of the water. Softly, he spoke.
"Tragedy of the Commons."
"This, is what is left of the tragedy; the aftermath; the commons."
​ | The atmosphere in the room was tense.
Locked in place in hover capsules that have all of their extremities securely restrained, dozens of leaders from centuries ago were staring at a holographic screen that displayed inside of their pods. With only security guards in the room with them.
The same judge was in front of each one, an old man, older than any they ever remember seeing before, was speaking slowly and with great conviction. His power to direct the destinies of thousands of people felt through his tone.
“They set us on course for total annihilation, while taking every preparation possible to ensure their own well-being, regardless of the disasters they might set in motion.”
By now the anti-comatose serum had set in and they were all out of the dark daze they were stuck in for what seemed like only a minute, fully cognizant towards the gravity of the situation in front of them, and in total shock.
Each one had their own memories beginning to flood in from their rusty subconscious, the bribes they had to give, the bribes they took, shady business dealings that led to extreme tensions, the final years where it built up without being addressed, and the last moments when mission “Last Resort” had to be put into effect, and the deaths necessary to ensure every single bridge was burned containing knowledge of their location.
“But after the destruction was laid, and after the world was brought to it’s knees and covered in ash, soot, and rubble—we rose up. We joined forces in the most unprecedented level in the history of humanity, we conserved the culture of our entire species, and avoided the segregation that instilled so much horror in our past.”
Flashbacks of manipulated propaganda machines ran through their minds, ruthless systems used to direct their agendas, instill societal division, and to fulfill their selfish purposes, neglecting the citizens they swore to defend and abide by.
“We superseded them in no time, advanced past them soon after, and multiplied it numerous times until now. Oblivious towards even their existence, and stumbling onto it over sheer happenstance.”
He took a heavy pause, wanting to make sure each word hit it’s mark.
The audiences at home glued to his every word.
“Never before had we considered the possibility of encountering the men and women that took the decision to decide our fates for us, and then abandoning ship when all hell broke loose, but here we are.”
“And never before have I felt such a personal contempt towards this many individuals of the same accord. But laying that aside, and fulfilling my honorable duties, the punishment that these crimes lawfully deserve—considering the relative immediacy of their committing, will be a punishment that has been banned from our civilization for over a century, but one I have personally sentenced one other time.”
“Death.. by SNU SNU” | 2019-02-03T21:20:15 | 2019-02-03T20:53:44 | 60 | 24 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | The Wish was the last will of the self, a powerful magic that one's potential in time unleashed at a forced convergence point in time.
Everyone had a rather large potential, and so almost every Wish succeeded in ending the life of the subject in the way they asked for. Literally. Figuratively. It found a way. I didn't understand it outside of that it was wrong.
The last prisoner before me said old age with such a smirk. He thought it would save him. The unamused faces of the council show that this had been asked before and the result was unsurprising.
He was carefully placed into a wheelchair with the care of a paper display, and wheeled away to live out his hospice kindly. How long it took depended on his will to fight time.
Apparently, no one controlled it. "Anymore" was the operative word of the explanation given, but I was no scientist or mage and it went over my head. Everything in this world did, much like what I did to deserve this sentence.
They stood me in front of the council, a row of red and gold robes, like school graduates from a time I'd been thrown from. Coming from the past was my crime. I'd been asked by my employer to clean the dust from inside of a machine, and after an explosion, I woke up here.
When I asked what year it was, the answer did not clarify how far into the future I had gone. But it was clear: everyone I knew, and anyone they would have told about me, was already gone.
"Make your choice, timejacker, how will you die?"
Maybe that was why I was not afraid of an abrupt end. Even if I were to survive, where would I go?
"Of Loneliness." I replied, with truth.
But there was no one there to reply back. The last looks on their faces was shock. In a moment they had all disappeared into a wisp of ash, the traces scattered into the wind that rushed to fill their spaces. The prisoners behind me disappeared as well, their last sounds the jingle of metal shackles dropping to the floor.
Then there was silence.
What actually happened to fulfill that wish? Who could tell. Maybe the world had ended, maybe I had been sent to a timeline where everyone was gone.
Unstuck from time, the power of my Wish was incredible, and crueller than expected.
Three hours passed before I freed myself from the shackles on my wrists. No one came to help me.
I walked outside.
It was silent until the day I died. | The Gods damned Tribunal! If there was anyone to blame for the state of this sorry world it would be the Tribunal. Sitting up on high, casting judgement on their inferiors. Everyone knows they're the real power behind the crown. Can't have a revolution when the Tribunal can kill you for your crimes instantly.
People called us stupid for trying to assassinate the king. Too much security that night and we just barged in the front doors. Hardly took any effort or the king's guards to take us down. All we had were daggers, they couldn't have even scratched the king's armor. Idiots they called us for even trying to fight against our betters. Everyone reading our manifesto as a joke....but maybe we got through to some people.
Sitting here, waiting to get called up in front of the Tribunal for punishment. Some have tried to plead their case. Some have tried to outwit the bastards and live forever. Poor sod before me wished to die of old age, and got turned to dust faster than it took him to say the words.
HOW DO YOU WISH TO DIE? the Tribunal asks me.
I grin and think of everything they've taken from me; my father, my wife, half my damn family accused of crimes against the crown most of them never committed. But I know what revolution sounds like. I may not see it, but I'm giving my people hope.
"Drowned in the Tribunal's fresh spilled blood." I say as I close my eyes and hear the first downpour. | 2021-06-24T11:47:16 | 2021-06-24T08:24:48 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] As they close your sensory deprivation chamber, you're shocked that you can't touch the sides. The interior is far larger than you expected. | >"The mind is a theater..."
I recalled my professor's words as I relaxed my body in the salty water.
>"All things that we take in with our limited senses are allegory. Our eyes convey a message that our brain then decodes- and each brain, as science can prove, is different. Could your blue, be the same as my blue? Or do we merely agree on what color the waves paint the planet? What you see before you... is it real? Is it real because you see it? And if that's the case, then are your dreams real? Certainly, you've seen fantastical images in your sleep- how can you deny them their reality? Your dreams have more of an effect on your little microcosm of life than any random man in Malaysia you'll never meet- in that circumstance, can we agree that your dreams are... more real than *they* are? Because, I remind you, as I said earlier all things are allegory. The only thing you can be certain of is that you exist. So what you see in that chamber... don't merely brush it aside as hallucinations- machinations of your inner psyche.
>
>It's real.
>
>As real as it gets.
>
>Enjoy the show."
The darkness that surrounded me, which was meant to calm me, only made me uneasy. I didn't like the dark. It wasn't that I feared the darkness... It's just that I didn't like being in a situation that I couldn't control. I think it's safe to say that among all my senses, I count my vision among the most important ones. I could do without touch. I could do without taste, smell, and even a loss of hearing still afforded me a fairly autonomous lifestyle.
But the darkness. My light. I needed it. And when I began to realize that each of my senses were slipping away from me one after the other, I felt a tinge of panic begin to crawl up my spine. I could no longer tell the difference between the saline water and the still air in the tank. No sound but the blood rushing in my ears- that is until I heard a voice.
"Look at you..."
I had to wonder if someone was in the room when they weren't supposed to be- until the voice addressed me directly.
"Always in a... desperate struggle for full control. You can't even handle being in a passenger seat, can you?"
I could hear my heart rate increase.
"Who could love such a... control freak?"
I swallowed, "Is somebody out there?" I called out.
"We're all out here, Patrick."
I decided that I had enough and lifted my arms to push the lid off of the tank- but I grasped around fruitlessly. I attempted to sit up, but found that there was no up.
No down.
I reached around in all directions as my heart pounded.
"No... I don't think so, Patrick. You're mine for a while."
"HEY!!" I screamed out. "SOMEBODY LEMME OUTTA HERE!!"
"Poor, poor Patrick," the voice taunted. "You're out right now... with me."
"ANYONE?!" I screamed. "HEY!!"
"Give up," it whispered.
"You're in my head," I whispered to myself. "You're in my head. You're not real."
"In your head?" It answered. "Not real? Sounds a little bit like your make-believe control."
I struggled to see anything as the voice mocked me.
"You control nothing. You think yourself so far from the problems of your ancestors. Tell me, Patrick... Have you ever worried where your next meal might come from? Have you ever wondered what would happen if your little comfort zone were dominated by a hostile foreign power?"
He was right. I'd never had to want for anything. I was born in the United States to a wealthy family. I'd always had everything I ever needed. Was my control a mirage?
Suddenly the lights flickered on. I stared around at the many deprivation tanks in the room and watched as the woman who'd locked us in moved from tank to tank, opening the latches. I looked down to see that I was floating listlessly around like yesterday's birthday balloon. I watched my body climb out of the tank and join my classmates.
"H-hey!" I called out.
But nobody heard me.
"THAT'S NOT ME!!" I screamed as I flailed around helplessly.
As they began to file out of the room without me, whatever was in my body tossed a glance in my direction and smiled.
The mind wasn't just a theater screen.
*It was a theater stage.*
- - -
If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos <3 | Howard looked at the black sensory deprivation tank warily as he took off his clothes in front of the four guards behind him. As much as he hated to admit it, a small part of him was afraid of what he had gotten himself into. But he knew it was too late to back down now. Two weeks ago, he had been anxiously pacing back and forth in his cell, waiting for the guards to bring him to the electric chair while simultaneously praying for a miracle that deep down, he knew was never going to happen. But then, something utterly unexpected had happened. A government official had approached his cell, offering to let him live if he agreed to take part in a scientific experiment. Supposedly, the government was trying to see the effects that extended sensory deprivation had on humans and they needed human guinea pigs to test on. Now, Howard wasn't a fool. He knew that there had to be more that they weren't telling him and he suspected that whatever the hell this tank was, it was far more dangerous than just some regular deprivation tank. But at the same time, it was the last hope he had of surviving and so, he had desperately agreed to it.
Slowly, Howard approached the mysterious tank as the pod doors slid open. It was pitch dark inside with nothing in there but water. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and submerged himself waist deep into the water. It was surprisingly lukewarm, not at all like the icy cold showers he had experienced in prison. Then, the pod doors slid shut and he was left all alone in the darkness. Five minutes passed. Then, ten. Howard shifted uncomfortably in the water. They hadn't told him how long that he would need to stay in the tank, although they assured him that it would be less than a hour. Howard sighed. Now that he was all alone by himself and realized that he wasn't about to experience excruciating pain, he was actually starting to get rather bored. Absentmindedly, he reached out one hand to feel for the wall of the tank. He felt nothing. Frowning, he took ten steps to the left abd tried feeling for it again. Again, nothing. A feeling of unease stirred in Howard's gut. This was impossible. The tank he had stepped into wasn't that much bigger than a bathroom. There was no way he wouldn't have touched the walls by now. As his heart beat faster and faster, he waded through the water back to his original starting point and tried reaching for the pod doors. Again, nothing but air.
Panic set in. "Hey, what the hell is going on?!" Howard screamed out. There was no answer from the darkness. Howard ran through the water, desperately trying to feel anything that wasn't water, anything that could prove that he was still in the machine. But he couldn't find anything. No matter how far he ran, the water just seemed to surround him in all directions with no end in sight. "Let me the fuck out of here! Let me out!" Howard kept screaming and screaming until his throat grew hoarse. He started coughing as tears slowly slid down his face. "Please, someone ... just let me go. Please just let me go," he whimpered. But there was no response. Hours passed. Then days. Then weeks. Howard couldn't remember anymore how long he had been in the tank. It might have been months. It might even have been years. At one point, in a fit of madness, he had tried to plunge himself into the water to finally bring an end to this torment. But to his shock, he didn't drown. The water didn't even burn his lungs. When he emerged from the surface, he had laughed and laughed and sobbed. He was all alone, stuck in this watery grave for an endless eternity. | 2021-06-03T09:24:28 | 2021-06-03T09:10:12 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You discover a library with a biography for everyone on Earth. While reading your own, you notice that whenever someone else is mentioned, there's a footnote showing where you can find their biography. Its odd how someone who was only a sentence in your book has a whole chapter for you. | *Carl ended up going to prom with Alice, I hated him.*
I giggled as I read the line. This library of biographies is fantastic. There is so much memory of each person, all collected within one room. Everyone’s life is recorded, every scrap of information, every thought, every emotion they felt at the moment. There is no one insignificant in this room, from historical figures to the beggar, all of our stories are recorded. Our experiences, whether they be of a hard struggle or of a blissful moment, not a thing that made our lives colorful is missed from these biographies.
I still remember that moment, when Alice came to tell me she was going to prom with Carl, the utter humility, the disappointment… It was everything to me at the time, and I hated the son of a bitch. The the one who showed little interest in actually committing to a relationship, the one who ended up dumping her anyway after the night, was the one who actually got to go on a date with her. Even then, I toughened up, and acted, pretended, to give them my best wishes and extending my hand to him to tell him no hard feelings, so I can tell myself what I nice person I am. God I hope that poor bastard suffered the rest of his life.
And that’s when I went to look for Carl’s biography. Section D, number 10523, it was a remarkably short one. I am in my fifties and my biography is already the size of a Thesaurus, his is more close to a high schooler's notebook.
As I turned page after page, I realized, his life is remarkably boring. The guy spent most of his early life in-doors, quiet, without much friends. Commentaries on his experiences remained bland for the most part -- “Learned to ride a bike, just like dad said I would.” And another “Straight As again, mom would be proud.” There were no further comments on what those experiences actually felt like. They were just a description of an event combined with how he thought other people would feel about it. There was also very little mention of himself, which is odd for a biography…
Until I reached the section about Alice. The narration here is different. There were detailed descriptions of how he thought of her as the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, how he would go the library on days she would go study… What a creep.
The next section somehow returned to the old boring narration.
“Diagnosed with lung cancer, inoperable. Best case scenario, two years”
The guy died within two years later, and more than half of this book remained is about the two years he had!
The rest of the biography read like a bestselling novel, each event, no matter how tiny they seemed, was filled with emotion, with hope and strive, with how much he wanted to ask for Alice’s hand despite knowing he’s dying. How hard he worked to be comfortable talking to others, the jokes he had to memorize to make himself sound funny, the countless webpages he read to make himself presentable.
“Asked Alice to prom today, she said yes surprisingly. I knew she was supposed to be going with another guy, Matt. I know he loves her, and I know there won’t be a future for Alice and me. I just had to do it. I’m sorry...”
I quickly flipped another page, I had no idea.
“Matt didn’t flip out. Perhaps he knew how pathetic I am, or it was because he saw there will be no future between Alice and me… Despite this, he extended his hand to me, and told me there was no hard feelings, that neither Alice nor me owe him anything. He patted me on the back, but there was something odd about it, he was hurt, yet he remained strong. He told me to have fun, that there’s one prom and that's it, before telling me to be brave with a wink.”
“Alice and I had a blast at the prom. She seemed interested in seeing me again, and so am I. I looked at her beautiful blue eyes, they definitely sparkle under the night sky. My sight lingered on her as I am reminded my doctors predictions. I told her we won't be seeing each other again. I tried to give her a pat on the back, but she shoved me away with tears in her eyes… Getting admitted today, getting worse. Though each time I lay on the bed, I can't help but remember Matt's look when he patted me on the back -- have fun, and be brave. And I did, thank you Matt!”
I closed the book, a barrage of emotion hit me as I struggled for words. There doesn't seem to be any for this moment except perhaps
You're welcome | "'Yeah man I feel you; look, don't let assholes get you down. And Hey, keep the change.' Mark said, then handed the cab driver [Name: Dokar Milicevic, ref#, art.1266-pg.629-line.56] a twenty dollar bill."
This particular sentence caught my eye, having spent the last several hours skimming over my own life; I couldn't help but wonder what the cab driver might have thought of my gesture. I place the ancient text down onto the marble table in front of me. Leaning over I peer down the dark, seemingly endless, celing-high rows of book shelves. Taking a moment to study the article signs extended from the shelves, I find the article's shelf. I pull myself from the chair, stiff from hours of sitting; to find Dokar's story.
Articles 1260-1275. I brush my hands over the large dusty books while I read aloud
"1260, 63... ah yes 1266. Here we go." I slowly draw the heavy book from it's place and return to the marble table top. I push my own tome forward on the cool surface and place Article 1266 down below it; echoing a quiet *plop* through the giant library's dark halls. The old text's spine cracks in protest as I gently coax it's pages open. I return my view to the cab driver's reference number. "Hmm, page 629, lets see." After a few moments of careful flipping I find the page.
"'Thank you sir' Dokar replied to his fare [Name: Mark Argus, ref#, art.1034-pg.435-line.12] being the first tip Dokar had received in nearly three days, he could not contain the emotion growing inside of him. Driving away from the kind soul, Dokar began to think of that twenty. His thoughts had been focused entirely on his pistol waiting for him at home; but now his mind wandered somewhere else. 'There indeed is good in the world.' He thought biting his lip. The plan had been to tell his last fare how cruel the world can be, then blow his brains all over his cheap apartment walls. Now, this random stranger changed all that. 'How strange, that the person I planned to be my last fare would tip me such a large amount.' Dokar continued to ponder. 'Maybe this is a sign, from somewhere, that I should stay alive. Maybe my life has a purpose.' Dokar in that moment remembered his love [Name: Selika Dovkovic, ref#,art.1254-pg.982-line.23] and how much she did mean to him. Dokar looked to the passenger side to locate his phone; he found new life and was ready to tell Selika how much she meant to him. However, before he could find his phone- a loud horn pierced his ears. Dokar looked up in time to see the headlights of a 18-wheeled vehicle. A explosion of sound rang around him as everything turned white. [Dokar Milicevic's Death: 2019, April 12th, 3:43PM]"
"Well, Fuck." I said aloud. I sat back into the old chair in shock. Astounded by the huge impact my small choice had made on Dokar's life. I sat in silence staring into nothing, and for a moment I almost lost interest in reading the Tomes of Time. Then i remembered I was to be stuck here after my own death for all eternity...
"Might as well just keep reading about that time I could see into the girl's locker room." I returned to Article 1034 and unbuttoned my fly... | 2017-12-04T03:50:20 | 2017-12-04T02:07:10 | 4,737 | 1,553 |
[WP] Humanity is bored with virtual gaming and has mastered controlling robot bodies for gaming warfare. Aliens invade Earth and everyone thinks it's an Easter egg in the game and fights them off. | "*It is good that war is so brutal, lest we become too fond of it.*"
Or something like that anyway. Rache really couldn't recall where he had first heard the line, and couldn't be bothered to spare the processing cycles to look up who had actually said it. Rache liked it because it was true, for most of human history that quote was everyone's reality. Brutal people doing brutal things... But not for the last century. Not since the creation of Gmod Systems and application of Program: STALKER. In STALKER people who wished to do so hunted each other across the planet. And those who did not stayed safe, protected by the game's own programing.
Once upon a time anger only had one outlet, violence against living things. Now if you have a bad day, enjoy competition (or simply are a psycho), you just hop into your SkinR, engage your camo, and go tear another player apart with your bare talons. No one gets hurt and at worst the loser has to wait for their Microfabricator to put the finishing touches on their new SkinR. Rache enjoyed the game, he was a little more than a casual, but not so good as to be nationally ranked. He honestly just didn't have the time between maintaining his various support modules and upkeep on his personal My-Farm.
But this, oh-ho-ho, this was good. Something big was going down. There was a new model in the game and the Dev's were working overtime to make it hated. Their damage would stick around and their simulated victims would even beg before they were shot. Rache had seen them shoot up schools, aim for non-combatants, once he even saw one shoot a dog... But still the grey NPC tag remained stubbornly over each and every model. Rache remained hidden under his active camo and continued to follow the one he had tagged as a group of them committed another atrocity against non-combatants. He could see other players on his sensors, all following the same group as him, he had always been talented at picking out the little ghosts and hazy images that indicated another SkinR was near, he knew he'd be way higher in the STALKER rankings if only he didn't devote so much time to the online only world of My-Farm.
In a huff he sent his Non-Sapient AI to check the STALKER forums, and only the STALKER forums, for any information on the new models. He flicked through it, but none of it interested him too much.
--*Secondary weapon. Squad support GPMG? 3300 rounds per minute and impact of 4200 kilonewtons/cm^2*--
--*Global Event! Same sightings in Islamabad as in South America.*--
--*When will the NPC tag be lifted!?*--
Rache cursed as closed the window with a thought, sending his NSAI scurrying into a tiny corner of his mind. There wasn't anything useful in that screed. These new models would barely be difficult for the newest player, and would need overwhelming numbers to be a threat to a properly piloted and modded SkinR. He was close enough to physically reach out and touch the model he had tagged, safely invisible from the eyes of every one of the new models, but still that damn NPC tag remained on. So long as it was there not a single player of STALKER in the would could hurt one of these guys, and Rache knew they all desperately wanted to. He and a half dozen other SkinRs silently followed this group down the street as the new models set fire to houses.
Then suddenly it was lifted. In the blink of an eye the safety grey NPC tag changed to an angry red HOSTILE. In the corner of his mind his NSAI informed him that the change was global. These new models were now officially a part of STALKER. New models began dying.
Most players left their camo on as they engaged. Some SkinRs dropped their camo for an extra challenge in the fight, some for bravado, Rache did so out of anger. He *liked* dogs, damn it. Swiftly he reached around the model he had tagged and sunk his talons through its ceramic breast plate, picking it up by its torso, spinning it around and lifting it so that its face was close to his; so there could be no way it would miss his voice when he triggered his speakers.
"*It is good that war is so brutal, lest we become too fond of it.*" | EXCERPT OF "History of Homosapiens":
You have probably heard about how, should extraterrestrials attempt to claim the earth as their own, humanity would not stand a chance on a technological level. It makes sense, considering the marvels said aliens would have had to invent to travel interstellar distances.
But have you seen the effort certain humans put into "winning"? Video games might be the best example. In the early 21st century, competitive gaming had become an integral part of society, with an ever increasing number of humans competing for the best scores, the most kills and ultimately the recognition of their peers. Over time, battles in virtual reality became actual reality. Androids had been developed, which were first trying to mimic the human form, then expanded to more complex than that. The brain is much more flexible than initially thought and using chemical enhancements alongside rigorous discipline and training, are able to control 8 arm-like appendices at the same time.
Early 2412, while interstellar travel had not yet been discovered, slight disturbances have been detected by humanity's interstellar drones and satellites. While these signals were slightly unusual, they were ultimately disregarded as electromagnetic interferences from unknown sources. These were the intial signs of the First Contact, the unprecendented encounter with a non-human race. To lay claim on planet earth, its moderate climate and its readily available resources, the Rashnor dispatched around 50000 troops to eradicate every last intelligent species living on it. While the Rashnor's fleet moved on, these 50000 troops began the assault mid 2412.
While major political figures were eliminated in the first day of the invasion, this went largely unnoticed by the general public. To them, this appeared to be seemed like one of the promised seasonal events by the Volve corporation. The main developer of the military android sport. The leaderboards of this sport were dominated by a group of 4 men and 3 women. An international, tightly knit squad so engrossed by warfare, they lived and breathed it daily, always the among the first to complete new events. Things took an unexpected turn for the Rashnor on the second day.
After the first few small-scale skirmishes, Mara, leader of the squad, concluded that projectile weapons were the ineffective due to the Rashnor's reactive impact-armor. She ordered the vanguard to switch to their two-handed swords. The blade of these swords are vibrating at very high frequencies, sidestepping the issue of a singular impact being absorbed by the armor. Choosing melee combat to increase the effectiveness of their offensive capabilities, the support duo focussed on deflecting incoming projectiles. Each of their eight arms controlled a electromagnetic field, whose strength can be directed and rapidly increased. Speed is of the essence here, since one only needs to change the path a bullet takes by a few millimeters to avoid impact, but doing that simultaneously for hundreds of bullets requires enormous concentration. The latter being the duo's speciality.
It took them a few weeks to eliminate the head of the Rashnor's offensive, leaving the remaining troops scattered and without direction. In doing so, they also discovered the location of the Rashnor's small starships, hidden within a mountain. This accelerated the research of interstellar travel, eventually leading to the Rashnor learning of the terrestrial wisdom to "never disturb a sleeping lion".
Author's note: First time contributing. No need to be gentle though. I prefer it rough. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
| 2016-07-26T04:09:51 | 2016-07-26T03:55:49 | 135 | 92 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here. |
This was it, the last time, I was sure of it.
These were the last two who had spoken my name, or even remembered me in the last ten years, talk of it was forbidden after all.
In fact it was only the one of them who had the guts to say it, and with age that was fading as well. The other one simply nodded in approval. I had been following them for quite some time now. This was to be their last meeting.
The upper east side Manhattan bar hummed noisily. The countdown to the new year was present on all the holo-stations plastered throughout the bar; three dimensional renderings of times square were lit up in vibrant colors. The digital display read the same on all of them.
Three minutes, forty five seconds until 4946.
A wrinkled man was now talking into a microphone in the displays, the hologram stretched and zoomed in, the image filling the tiny white stations about the bar.
"Emperor Vitrianous Trump now has the podium" the announcers voice over the display.
The patrons of the bar raised their glasses in unison
"America is Great Again!" They all chanted.
I chuckled to myself. I felt a mild pang of empathy for Trump. We had crossed paths once or twice in the afterlife and conversed as one mogul to another. He seemed lucid, but that was years and years ago. people tended to go mad waiting. especially when they knew they were doomed.
I had to hand it to him however, he capitalized on fear in ways that I could only dream of. He was patient. building his empire, one vote, one person, one dollar at a time. Patience and determination. These are what make dangerous men. I thought to myself. He certainly had a harder road to hell than I did. Especially with his family still holding the throne. My journey however, was almost over. Three thousand years moves faster than you think.
In the corner, my two targets continued their conversation, oblivious to the ramblings of people about the bar. They were too older women in their mid-sixties. part of the second wave of resistance movement back in the day. The rest of their comrades had either vanished or been killed. Somehow they had managed to keep their identities a secret all this time. Now however, they were both tired. There's a certain look of defeat in someone's eyes when they realize the hopelessness of their plight. I had seen it many times in my own life before.
The older of the two glanced over at the display and spat.
"Disgusting she said."
The other one nodded in assent.
"I cant believe it all ended up like this. We used to be free once." She said.
"What happened to resisting? What happened to the fight?"
The other one sadly just shook her head. The fire died a little bit in the older woman's eyes.
The younger one was silent for a long time, taking a long drink of her beer. I looked at her. Maybe I was wrong. perhaps it was she who would set me free. I saw a flash of her former self in her eyes.
She spoke up at last.
"Trump. He's the worst person in history.. I mean, besides you know."
Say it... I clenched the air in my translucent fists...Say it!
"Hitler."
I relaxed letting my body go limp. I felt a warm sensation all over. I laughed as my ethereal body disintegrated piece by piece, party by part till I was no more.
Lucifer greeted me with open arms. He had been waiting for some time.
| It was all because of that stupid TV show.
I thought that it was done ruining my life when I turned twenty. The comments had slowly been dying down, and I figured that once my friends were out of their teenage years, the talk would turn to wine more so than my name.
Sufficed to say, it didn’t.
I died from old age, in the year 2090, and as my eyes closed and I could hear my relatives beginning to cry, a smile graced my face in the hope that I should find peace at last.
I awoke a few feet away from the bed, my feet floating a few inches off the ground, beside my daughter. She had only commented on my name when she was a child, and even that, only once or twice. I had always supposed my children feared me too much to make fun of my name. Perhaps that was the Russian in me. I was never as gentle as my husband.
My eyes still haven’t closed. It’s been 3000 years, damnit, yet that show has only gotten more popular. It teaches all sorts of languages now, but that theme song is still the same. It plagues my days (ghosts are not allowed to leave the building they died in). I have relived every single possible moment of every single episode.
Fun fact: new episodes air every Sunday at ten in the morning. My great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great-(etc) granddaughter absolutely loves them.
Thankfully, my family did not continue the tradition of naming their children after their ancestors. I suppose that would have made it doubly difficult for me to finally reach the peaceful afterlife (if there even is one).
TV looks a lot cooler; that’s one good thing about being around for so long, I suppose. You get to see all the cool stuff people have come up with. The worst part is when they walk right through you, and you begin forgetting if Jerry was the father or your second great-great-great son-in-law.
I think a missed a few greats in there. Oh well. Back to the show.
Even after 3000 years, Swiper has to work on his swiping skills. That five-year-old I share a name with can’t possibly be that hard to outwit.
| 2016-01-17T15:11:50 | 2016-01-17T11:19:18 | 44 | 15 |
[WP] You rush into a church to stop the love of your life from marrying the wrong person. Not paying attention, you shout "I OBJECT" only to realize it's a funeral. The deceased immediatelly rises in perfect health. All eyes turn to you.
Thank you everyone for all the stories, they're wonderfu, i really enjoyed every single one | *We all catch a bad break sometimes. Time was, they'd tell you to live with it. They'd tell you to move on. They'd tell you to stop objecting.*
*Those times are past.*
*It shouldn't have happened to you. It needs to be put right. And it takes a professional to do it.*
*Call now for a free consultation with our Objector: 1-888-I-OBJECT*
*termsandconditionsapply;objectionsaresubjecttolegalapproval;noresurrectionsplease*
\---
Here's the origin story: the love of my 23-year-old life was getting married in a civil ceremony at the town police station, which often doubled as a community center because you could book conference rooms for free and the cops were chill.
Her ceremony was in 7A. I burst into 7B across the hall and, well, you know the rest. Arise, child of the light. Except the child was an 86 year old woman with terminal lung cancer. My objection cleared up the particular hemorrhage which was the immediate cause of death. She lived another 3 days in agony before finally dying again.
Nobody objected that time.
\---
Yeah, I mostly use it for the job. Our clients include corporations, wealthy individuals, and even governments. I'm well taken care of. But I'm not a proud man. I've objected to girls turning me down for a date. I once objected to some douchebag cutting me off in traffic. And I definitely objected to my early onset hair loss.
The no resurrections thing never really sinks in with people. No matter how many times they hear it, I still get asked. Beseeched. Begged. Trust me, you don't want me to bring them back. And neither do they.
\---
Serious injuries, that's another matter. I once got called in for a high profile client. Black SUVs, private jet, undisclosed location, everything zipped up tighter than a guinea pig's ballsack. It was Kanye. You do not want to know how far up that music award was. Blood everywhere. You better believe I objected the fuck out of that one.
\---
We're not really, shall we say, overly scrupulous with our clients. Our philosophy is that we provide a service at a market rate. We avoid requests for exclusivity because it undermines the free market.
I objected to the AT&T merger with Time Warner. The client was a consumer protection group and they really had a heartwarming pitch.
Then AT&T added two zeroes to my fee and I objected to the DOJ's ruling. I don't feel bad. Look how it turned out for them.
\---
My proudest moment? The one I did for free. You haven't even heard about it. NORAD called me up once and showed me what was on the telescopes. All I can say is, you're welcome.
\---
It's been a few years and I have to say, it's a little frustrating sometimes that the only thing I can do is object. I'm not complaining. I live an incredible life. But my only skill is saying No. It's starting to wear on me a little. I'm wondering if I'll ever get to say Yes.
To anything.
To anyone.
I never went back into 7A. I've realized since then that you can't object to the choices of people you care about. Sometimes, when it comes to what matters most, you have to live with it. You have to move on. | I sat at a bar downing a glass of whiskey, the love of my life was to get married today to Brad of all people. Some jerk that's never really cared for her, and loved her like I ever did.
I sit there and reflect on all the great moments we had together, the love we felt and how quickly we connected. The look in her deep blue eyes when she told me she loves me..
".. I messed it up.." I thought to myself..
I really did, I was to caught up in other areas of life and I neglected the person that mattered the most to me the love of my life..
I finally came to the realization that I needed to try one final time, shoot my shot one last time.. or die in regret of having permanently lost her.
I drive over, speeding to the church the wedding was supposed to be taking place at, lots of cars. and very crowded this must be it.. I thought.
I kick open the door, and yell as loud as I can, "I object!"
Everyone turns around in surprise and looks at me, shock and bewilderment on their faces, and tears in their eyes.. a casket that is open is in front of me..
"Oh no.." I thought.. "I really ruined a persons funeral, I really am a piece of shit"
Then the deceased person lifts their head out of the casket. All the audience gasps in surprise.
"You really had to ruin my plan didn't you? I just needed the insurance money to get my daughter through college, but you had to ruin it huh?" says the 'deceased' man..
One of the audience members that appears to be his mother, an older lady with tears in her eyes slaps the man as hard as she can..
"You.. bastard.. you faked being dead for what.. money? Do you have any idea what you put me and your father through..."
"I would have came clean and told you all eventually, but come on now.. 10 million dollars that's a lot of money.. Well worth faking my death for so I don't have to work another day in my shit hole job."
Everyone in the audience starts fighting and hollering at one another, and I'm just glad that I didn't ruin some guys funeral. I guess I did ruin his plan for insurance wealth though..
I still need to stop Brad from marrying my dream girl, so I hurry out of the door and check my gps..
ooh I miss typed the address, that's what happened. | 2022-08-29T10:05:22 | 2022-08-29T08:24:25 | 166 | 106 |
[WP] You are the super villain that defeated the super hero and conquered the earth. You walk out onto your balcony to law down the law for your new subjects. You are greeted by a massive crowd and genuine cheers. | I didn't choose to be a super-villian. I chose to be a villian, sure. I had grey morals to begin with. The sudden advancement of power, gave me temptation. The pain and mental torture warped my perspective but the final straw for my step into villianness? Villain hood? Anger. I would love to start at the beginning but there's no time. I just talk to myself like this to keep myself sane, it took a while to get back here, I'd like to keep it. When I'm angry, I get shit done. But its destructive, direct, no subtly, etc. To make me this mad, this maddening madness, requires a lot. It wasn't pain or suffering that caused it, well not directly. It was knowledge.
I control minds. I do other things too, read, warp, control, etc. I raped and killed. I controlled and destroyed. I layed down my version of justice, I started a revolution, secretly took over foreign governments, I lost my very mind and I can honestly, thankfully, say it wasn't my fault. I opened my mind up and found hell. The suffering of the entire world filled my mind and broke me. It takes a lot to break me. Few thousand to be exact. So much pain. Given, I probably would have still done "evil" and broken laws but never like this. Never on this scale.
They did everything they could to stop me but I was too smart, I had the intelligence of a hive mind, the influence, the power and I used it. So they created someone who couldn't be controlled, amped him up and sent him after me like a dog. Had a very interesting set of powers but so do I. They were a gift. I didn't kill the hero, but I did trap them. No mind is safe from mine, not anymore. Trapped, in his own head, forever.
As I walk out, crowds, cheers, massive delights. I suppose, afterall, I have trapped most of the world inside their own heads. A shame. I will free them, not soon, but I shall. Stepping out of darkness and into the light is difficult and sometimes it requires getting bloody. But I will free these slaves I have created. Most of them at least. I'll keep 1 or 2 for my own purposes.
After all, my morals are gray. | Today, TODAY is a new day! For we have finally overcome the sense of freedom. Bound by the shackles of this new world order I will lead you in to a golden age. We will strive together for greatness of us all. It'll be hard work, yes, but know that through your struggle that your children and your children's children will have a world where they can have new possibilities. Together, with those standing next to you, you will put in the hard work to create the weapons with which will we have peace. For without peace progress cannot be made and with my great victory we will move forward. Believe in a world without the struggle of hunger or thirst, for all will come from me, your glorious leader.
Things are going to be rearranged, a clean slate for all. Your job is no longer your job, we will decide what is best for all. Understand that I'm not looking for us to be here, stuck in the same old routine with your same old life. Look up, the sun, the stars are ours for the taking. Together we will take humanity to places we never thought imaginable. For knowing that we are safe here on earth is only the beginning. Today we start the rise of humanity, for tomorrow will be when we are above all else in the universe.
| 2017-05-23T10:33:06 | 2017-05-23T08:50:48 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] You, an overworked scientist, have just sold your soul to the devil so your life's work will become widely known and help millions of people. The devil comes back the next day and, instead of taking your soul, asks you to take his teenage daughter off his hands. | "Your daughter." I glared.
"Y-Yes. I need you to take care of my daughter." Satan muttered, then straightened himself," I know you've taken care of a child."
"Yeah Luci, but she isn't the daughter of the Demon King, and besides, I'm a single mother and my work is killing me, I can't take care of another teenager." I took a sip from my glass of Coors.
"Look. She's a huge burden on me. I've taken care of her for years, but I can't do it anymore.."
"And why's that?"
"Jeannine. I'm the damn Devil. I have the whole damnation stuff to attend to."
I adjusted my glasses," And what's in it for me?"
He pondered for a moment," You're a scientist, right? I can give you endless knowledge! I can make you the smartest woman in the world!"
"Do I have to give up my soul?"
"No, not at all! Taking care of Lena is all I ask of you!"
"Hmmm... Alright. I'll do it."
"Alright." His eyes rolled back and he began to chant something unintelligible. I could see blood coming out of his nose as his chanting got louder and the ground began to shake. This continued for about twenty more seconds before a small portal opened behind him. After the portal opened, he immediately stopped.
"The knowledge has been imbued within you. Now just give me a few minutes to talk to Lena." He walked through the portal, closing it as he left. Soon after, Marie came running down the stairs.
"Mom, what the hell was that? The house just started quaking!" She was obviously shaken, I could see the bits of plaster in her hair.
"Marie, I'll explain everything later, but for now I just need you to-" The portal reopened, and Satan came out with his daughter.
Lena was a rather short girl, with brown skin and black hair tied back in a messy bun. She was wearing a simple grey shirt and jeans. The only noticeable difference about her was the slightly sharpened fingernails. She had a fair amount of bags and a backpack on her back.
"Holy shit." I could hear Marie mutter under her breath.
"So how long is she staying here?" I said, picking up my books that fell.
"I don't know precisely. She's always been talking about visiting the human world, she's never been, always interested in the human race, always on her phone, reading about it." He chuckled a bit, placing his hand on Lena's shoulder.
"Dad! You're embarrassing me!" She shouted, taking his hand off her shoulder. "You can go dad."
Satan turned to me and whispered," I'll come back for her when you meet Scott."
"Scott? Who's-"
"Alright, I gotta go! Gotta damn some tortured souls! Love you cutie-pie!"
"Dad!" He was gone. Lena calmed down a bit and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Hi!"
"It's nice to meet you Lena. I'm Jeannine and this is my daughter, Marie." I gestured towards Marie.
"That... That was the Devil?" Marie muttered.
"Yeah, he's a real handful." Lena giggled a bit.
I looked over to Marie, she was obviously blushing a bit. Maybe it was shock from seeing Satan.
"So, Lena, I know this isn't the right question to ask, but do you, like your father, have those crazy powers?" I asked.
"Yup! I don't use them though, no need to."
"Alright. Well, food's in the fridge, and since it's summer vacation, Marie and I can show you around the city, and until I meet whoever Scott is, you'll have to go school." I smiled and sat back down," Now I gotta get back to work. Your dad gave me limitless knowledge and I want to put it to use."
Lena smiled," Alright."
That was the start of some of the greatest years of my life.
Taking care of two teenagers is difficult. Especially when one is the teenage child of Satan. The most difficult part of it was getting her used to school, for she was under the assumption it was like Highschool Musical. But luckily, me and Marie were able to help her. Mainly Marie, they were always close. I always love bringing up the Highschool Musical thing, it made so many people laugh at her and Marie's wedding.
As for me, I was able to get enough of my work published to make a name for myself. I made a good amount of money, and I was recognized as the smartest person in the world, suck on that Stephen Hawking.
I never met Scott.
| The devil appeared in my bedroom in a cloud of sulphurous smoke. I sputtered, and dropped my mug (which was incidentally my favourite. #1 scientist!) Coffee splashed over my slippers, and shards of china scattered across the floor. I cursed. “God damn it, Lucifer! Couldn’t you be a little less dramatic?”
He grinned, and there were dark circles under his eyes. The devil looked less like the ol’ stereotypical portrayal of himself. No horns or forked tail, but a charcoal suit, red tie and oxfords. He seemed like the kind of guy who would schmooze your girlfriend from under your nose. “Nice to see you again, Nick,” he said. “How’s the research going? Was it worth it?”
“My soul? Hell yeah. With your help, I’ve managed to save millions.” I paused, looking at the remnants of my mug. “Hey…” I jerked my thumb at the dining table. “Do you want a mug of coffee?”
“That’d be great.” I pulled out a chair for him, and went over to the counter to find a mug. I poured some coffee, then returned. The devil had his head in his hands. “Tough job, huh…” I mused. “Is there trouble in hell?” I leaned in close, cupping a hand to my mouth. “Has hell frozen over yet?”
Lucifer heaved a great sigh, then took a gulp of coffee. He slammed it onto my table. I winced. At this rate, all my mugs would be trashed. “It’s my daughter…” he said in a long suffering voice. My eyebrows drew together. *Daughter? Wonder if she takes after her old man.*
“What about her?”
“She’s a wonderful girl. But she’s got the stubborn streak of her mother. And oh, the angst!” he moaned.
“Oh, I’m sure.”
“Did I tell you about her taste in music? She’s obsessed. Plays the same ones over and over again for a week. A WEEK, I TELL YOU!”
He turned his red eyes to me. They were full of desperation. I tried my best to salvage the situation. I wasn’t good with dealing with weepy, emotionally charged women, much less than a strung-out ruler of hell.
“I’m sure it’s just a phrase… She’ll grow out of it soon.” I waved an airy hand. “Besides, how about investing in good earplugs? Besides that-why am I here? I’m not good company.” I gestured at my house: a nightmarish mess of papers and Chinese take-out boxes. “I’m busy saving the world, remember?”
He grabbed my shoulders with sharp black fingernails. I stood stock-still. “I need you to take care of my daughter,” he murmured.I kept a calm smile on my face, as his fingernails dug deeper into my skin.“Capiche?”
“Alright…” I stuttered. Lucifer’s smile was instantly sunny. Years melted from his face. I took a long draught of coffee.
“Good,” he said. “And I almost forgot-” he conjured a orb of green light in a taloned hand and slammed it into my midsection. I choked in surprise and fell off my chair, clutching my stomach. “Here’s your soul back. You’ll be seeing my daughter soon.” He paused, oddly serious. “God help your soul.” Lucifer snapped his fingers, and vanished with a pop.
I rose unsteadily to my feet. The room still smelt of rotten eggs, and there were china shards and pools of coffee all over my nice wooden floor.
“Jerk,” I muttered under my breath.
| 2017-06-10T22:20:17 | 2017-06-10T19:19:12 | 393 | 198 |
[WP] It is modern day America, but everyone speaks in Shakespearean English. You are a gamer raging out during an online multiplayer match. | "Select your hero," the voice summoned, upon this motley band of adventurers gold.
Faces flashed upon the screen; content was I, with all but one, if truth be told.
"Hanzo, wouldst thou switch to Soldier, pray tell, that victory might be more easily ours?"
"Infect thyself, thou low-apt swine," responds the bowman; the air quickly sours.
Voices erupt from all around, amongst nary a fond word for Hanzo might be found.
For naught, our efforts, in the end: for arrows, not bullets, this man resolved to send.
The gates were opened, we six did go, descending upon the quiet King's Row.
His arrows struck true, first one, then two; a field of blood the archer did sow.
He found his marks, but relent, we could not. "Change to Soldier, foul demon, or in our graves we will rot!"
"Ha!" Defied he, as one by one our foes fell. "Rot we will, then, and thou shalt see me in hell!"
The slaughter drove on. Endless, eternal, as any man sees. Yet our enemies fell, taking arrows to knees.
*Victory!* came the final voice. Wreathed in gold medals, only Hanzo rejoiced.
"Above and beyond, to platinum I go," declared the archer.
"Trust in thy team, or stay confined to gold and below." | Come now, thou lily-livered hog's behind!
Come forth, and face thine punishment!
Thou cheating coward! May no MOBA let
Thee play forevermore! Be cursed to rot
Upon the sidelines, lover-boy of whores!
And may your mother lay abed with all
the rotten, scurvied, men of ill-repute! | 2017-01-09T18:05:29 | 2017-01-09T15:44:37 | 364 | 22 |
[WP] You work under an evil emperor, but you want him to fall. As such, you've been wandering the countryside committing atrocities in hopes of causing someone's tragic backstory. | Darien beamed a broad smile at the young shop hand, "Worry not my friend, I am here on behalf of your Emperor, to extend his mercy to his loyal subjects" he gestured to the sky as though the sun itself was the emperor. "Your traveling stall here is full to the brim with wares that any number of bandits might kill you to obtain. I merely wish to spare you, and your parents, that pain"
The young man looked very concerned. Darien leaned in "Parents? Do you have parents?"
A slow nod caused Darien's spirits to dampen. He punched the young man in the stomach, who then crumpled easily. Darien took a drink from one of the stall's shelves. A local fruit wine, good, he needed a drink. He popped the cork and took a swig, before spitting out the wretched, though admittedly alcoholic drink. Forcibly sober, Darien proceeded to rake anything valuable into his sack.
A local town guard approached in a hurry, but Darien held up the Emperor's Seal, a sign of his status of favor within the Empire and the guard paled before scurrying out of sight. Everyone else nearby did the same.
Darien leaned down to the young man, still doubled over in pain. "My name is Darien. That's Darien with a D, not Larien or whatever else. Should you ever want to get revenge I live at the big black castle and I serve the Emperor directly, who wants me doing things like this to people like you."
He grabbed the young man's chin in an iron grip, and forced the scared peasant to look at him. "Now then, hold still" he said, as he used a knife to make a long cut down across the frightened man's face. A nice vertical cut from above his eye down his cheek. It would be quite imposing if he ever bulked up enough to fight.
"At first I picked on you because of", and Darien paused to clear his throat "THE HERO'S PROPHECY" he shouted, "you know, the one where a young man vows revenge and seeks the Blade of Light in the woods beyond the Lightning Mountain? Cut through the port city of Alexia, sea travel will get you there MUCH faster and then look for the giant oak. There you will find a sword."
Darien stood up and puffed out his chest again before shouting "But a weak little boy like you could NEVER take up the hero's sword! Sure, if you had the sword, the Emperor himself would cower before you, but you're just too SCARED, so I won't bother killing you."
Satisfied, Darien turned to leave. Today was probably a waste. The kid didn't look pre-hero spineless, he just looked regular spineless. Still, maybe he should track down his parents and kill them anyway.
He was heading east. If the young man's parents were east of here, he could spare a little time to kill them he supposed.
He tossed a torch into the orphanage on his way out of town, and made sure to hand a business card to the first adult that came running out.
It was so HARD to find good heroes these days. | "Heroes don't grow on trees. Thats the sad truth to it. Where there is a great evil an equally great force of good doesn't magically come to oppose it. Reality just doesn't work that way. No, they have to be created. And the best way to do it is to give them a tragic backstory. Normally Villains do that themselves accidentially. But my boss, my boss is to smart for that. He knows what he is not allowed to do and would resoult in the creation of heros. The problem is that he still does all the other things villains do.
The Emperor tortures rebels, eccept if they have any kids than they can go, because every orphan is a risk. And he knows that killing the kid too won't work. It always fails. Every single evil deed of his is calculated to make sure that it will not create heros. And the Strategy works. But he needs to be stopped somehow. So thats where I come in.
I started killing parents. Nobody makes for bether heroes than orphans. I started burning villages. I did every evil thing imaginabel witch creates withnesses. And look at you, it worked."
"So your excuse for burning down my entire village and everyone that lived there besides me is that you wanted to create heroes?," answered the Hero.
"Yes," I reply.
"And why couldn't you just do the heroing yourself?"
"I didn't have the courage to. But I knew I could create someone who has."
"And by doing so became a greater evil than him." He took a step toward me.
"But I did create you," I say in panic.
"Yes I can't deny that, your plan worked. You created a hero. A hero who will put an end to the greatest evil around. The man who was to cowardly to do the job himself. I will put an end to you, the man who outeviled the emperor."
Before I am able to repond i fell a quick cut in my neck. He seems to make his cuts the same way I do. Qick, efficient. He does not want to see people suffer, and grants painless deaths. Just as I do. | 2022-08-12T13:24:12 | 2022-08-12T11:49:38 | 124 | 25 |
[WP] Every spacefaring species has something that makes them special. Some are fast, some have telekinesis, some are nigh-unkillable. To the galaxy's surprise, humans have a tendency to befirend the cosmic horrors lurking where the starlight does not reach. | Evolution and war interact in funny ways.
&#x200B;
It seemed like every interstellar species had it's own specialty, and it seemed that way for a reason. The Arvayu Telepaths guarded their power jealously - any telepathic species entering the galactic stage was quickly subdued, modified and enslaved, or otherwise destroyed utterly. The Amoebic Hivemind outbred almost every living thing in the galaxy, sentient or not, and quite literally absorbed whatever approached the highest amount of biomass it could find. The Silurian Mongers, a sort of reptilian allegory, was thoroughly steeped in destroying any single thing it could find that posed a physical threat - and that mindset grew to encompass naval power as well.
&#x200B;
Between all of the various species, there was a kind of uneasy peace - the Arvayu didn't particularly relish the idea of fighting the Amoebics, the Silurians didn't appreciate how the Arvayu turned them against themselves,, and the circle went on. Dozens of species with their own little niche, never quite at peace but never quite coming to blows.
&#x200B;
Enter Humanity. We never really had a specialty - we certainly didn't breed fast enough to interest the Amoebics, and most of the other species either saw us as children, food, or a pest. Diplomatically we ingratiated ourselves just enough to get involved in trade talks, but our inter-factional wars spoke volumes about how that wasn't really our thing, either.
&#x200B;
We simply are. And after a time, the other species began to question that - how could a species with no real outstanding strength continue to survive? Even though we usually opted to take the least desirable stars for colonization, why were we allowed to exist as a free-standing entity in the first place?
&#x200B;
The Silurians, predictably, were the first ones to test us. Multiple systems fell in the first few months - we were utterly dominated. Soon, more of the galactic community wanted a piece of the feast. Without something drastic, Humanity was as good as extinct.
&#x200B;
It was then that we found out what our specialty was. Well, is, I guess.
&#x200B;
The UHWS Starblinder was the first ship to encounter one of the Dark. We'd been warned in the past, of course, that a Dark was invariably a death sentence for anyone who disturbed it, so we'd elected not to test those particular waters. The other species had maps of the territory occupied by these monsters, and gave them a wide berth - often, if a ship went missing, it was assumed that a Dark had either moved into that territory or simply manifested there - nobody really seemed to know anything about their biology, because, well...everything that encountered them just stopped being. Return telemetry from probes was rarely coherent, but confirmed that there were *things* out there that didn't appreciate sharing their space.
&#x200B;
The captain of the Starblinder was the one who showed us all what we are. We're utterly relentless, and in the face of defeat, we'll happily run into the bony arms of Death in order to take a last swing.
&#x200B;
The Dark, as a rule it seems, appreciate chaos. In us, they found a species so utterly unpredictable and varied that they felt a kind of kinship. Well...not kinship. I think they think of us more as pets than anything else.
&#x200B;
They found out someone kicked their dog.
&#x200B;
Hundreds of the Dark caused the empires of the galaxy to erupt in flames in a matter of weeks. It wasn't a war of extermination - frankly, calling it a war would be giving it too much. It was a downright slaughter, and while most of the species in the galaxy survived in some fashion, the majority of the major population centers had been glassed, "eaten", or simply shattered.
&#x200B;
We enjoy a lot more freedom these days. The galaxy is rebuilding, and it was determined that we should get a seat at the table. Funny how that happens. We don't hear much of anything from the Dark, because really what pet understands their master? Our colonies in Dark territory are communication enough - "You, we'll tolerate. You, we'll defend." | The Ster fleet followed the small human trading ship through the Cambarid Zone, through the Butterfly cloud, to the very door stop of the Singing Belt. The Hadal black hole loomed at the center like a titanic black marble, shimmering in its infinite mystery.
“These humans are tenacious, I will give them that,” Admiral Libinia said, rubbing the sense organs on his face. Ever since the first salvos of the Cancer War, as the humans called it, named after the some astrology sign among their stars, the admiral had enjoyed the destruction of the human trading routes. Truth be told, he hated the humans—though he admired them. Admired their courage and persistence.
“Are they actually diving into the black?” his second—Vice-admiral Chaceon—said, her quartet of eyes bulging as she watched the little human trading ship scraping along the event horizon of the Hadal until it disappeared. “What can they hope to accomplish? Our fleet will be here and waiting when, or even if, they make it through. They cannot outrun our Tadomi-class battlecruisers.”
The Admiral didn’t say anything. He just watched silently, clicking his claws with unease.
Why would they do this? He wondered. Are they committing suicide? Who would knowingly enter the Hadal’s vault of insanity?
“All cruisers spread out, a thousand uziks between each ship. I want a ring around the Hadal. We will wait if we need to. And all ships stay clear of the asteroids of the Singing Belt.”
He didn’t think he needed to say that. All his captains should know to stay away from the anthox crystals which ringed the Hadal within the belt—better known as the singing belt because it made those who got too near to the crystals hear its music worming deep down through their antennas, driving them insane.
He watched as his battlecruisers ignited their thion drives, the lavender luminescence burning brilliant in the dark of this god forsaken system.
And they waited.
But it didn’t take long, for soon the small human trading ship returned and with it a whispering came through the dark that made the Admiral want to molt his shell right then and there.
Soon they came. The destroyers of light. The living dead of night. Shub-Nigurath. Gigantic cloudy masses of jet black with long, twisting tentacles which reached out slowly. Dozens of them came out of the infinite depths of the Hadal, moving toward his fleet with the sluggish patience of the immortal. Around each of them was a flowing accretion disk of corpses which they had collected over eons, singing their songs of the dark, bringing ships down into their abyssal lair.
And with the whispering of the Shub-Nigurath, the admiral heard the voices of the humans. They were talking to each other.
“Retreat!” The Admiral said, but it was hopeless. His mind felt like it was melting, and he looked at Vice-admiral Chaceon with pure, unadulterated fury. And her gaze was equal, as they set on one another with primitive brutality, their claws ripping into each other viciously.
And the small human trading ship sailed silently past the fleet, watching as the Sters were pulled down into their midnight tombs where infinite horrors sang in the bottomless pit of dead time.
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | 2021-04-07T20:15:45 | 2021-04-07T18:26:48 | 2,301 | 1,227 |
[WP] The bride is having an affair with the best man. During his wedding speech the best man decides to see how heavily he can hint about it without anyone actually working it out. | "Please everyone be upstanding to welcome the best man."
Applause rang around the reception hall as the best man accepted the microphone from the MC and beamed widely at the now captive audience.
"For those of you that don't know me, my name is Jeff, and I'm the best man. Which is about the only thing the new bride and groom will agree on. I met Johnny in my first week of university a scared and nerdy little kid, I took him under my wing !
But, eventually he did come out of his shell to become the accomplished man you see before you now. What I love most about John, is his loyalty and trusting nature, don't ever change that about yoirself, mate !
I also remember the first time I met Abby, John couldn't stop talking about this girl he had met, who was the best looking girl he'd ever seen. I think we can all agree on that right now ! I instantly took a liking to Abby, she's just so giving and generous with her.. Time.
We soon became the 3 muskateers around campus, we were inseparable. I did everything with Abby and John, and I mean ***everything***. Sometimes I felt like the 3 of us were in one big relationship.
John and I graduated together and even ended up at the same company. As some of you may know, Johnny makes a pretty penny, but that comes with a lot of travel. Sometimes John asks me to pop in on Abby and make sure she's going alright, you wouldn't know it but John is the cook ! Don't worry though mate, I take care of all her needs, in the food department.
I promised I'd keep this just like Abby, short and sweet, so I will. I wish both of you a lifetime of happiness. If I can offer you just one piece of marital advice, it's always trust each other, be prepared to give each other space, remember how important your friends are.
So, let's raise our glasses to the perfect couple, and Johnny ! Haha, to the happy couple."
| Congrats to my best friends Kyle and Erin on their recent marriage! Sorry about the lack of presence this week bud, I've been busy doing errands. I mean, its been tough keeping up with all of it. Just constantly running around with errands to do. First the thing at the yacht club. That was the first one. It was a huge secret, but I think we kept it a surprise for everyone! And I mean that one was rough. Like an hour and a half, two hours out of my day constantly for a week? Then it was at the rodeo. Yeah, errands and rodeos don't normally mix but it was a special occasion. I had to ride something before you two got married huh? I still cant believe that you chose Erin though. We all thought it was never a serious thing when you guys met at the frat party 10 years ago but here you are! Hopefully your marriage lasts as long as I felt those errands took. Cause we all knew that no one was coming, especially Erin, until the errands were done. Love you both! Congrats! | 2015-04-02T22:21:01 | 2015-04-02T22:11:05 | 55 | 15 |
[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.”
| It is nice to be king. Maybe it would be better if everyone wasn't trying to kill me, but things could be much worse. I have a nice apartment, a beautiful girlfriend, some good money, and really what more does a man need to be happy? I suppose love, but we are in love, and honestly, no one else thinks she is beautiful, so I think we were made for each other.
Now, how did I reach this pinnacle you ask. Well, the answer is quite simple, my power is not all that impressive, actually it is rather bad. Same with hers, but together, it works out quite well. You see, you have to declare when you are going to kill someone of a higher rank, that way we know who killed them, and they know that they are being hunted. So when someone say that they are going to come gunning for me, I open up a video call with them.
A simple video call. Nothing more nothing less, but what I do on that call shows my power. No one knows what it is of course, I make sure of that by keeping the calls private. When I get them online I talk to them, and eventually I suggest we flip a coin. This is my power. I flip a coin with another person, heads, he dies, tails, I die, and no, double-headed coins don't count. Why would I use something so risky, you may wonder. Simple really, my girlfriends power is over luck. Playing poker and she says cards, that will be her hand. Call a coin flip, that is the way it will land.
Together we rose up here. It is really surprising that no one else ever thought to work together, but I suppose they really are just to power hungry to share anything. It is quite a shame. I am sure that there are better combos than this. Now I really must be going, and so must you I'm afraid, after all you know my secret now. "Sweetheart, you think it is going land on heads again?" | 2014-12-18T15:13:47 | 2014-12-18T13:27:32 | 35 | 19 |
[WP] You arrive in Heaven to find it abandoned.
[WP] You arrive in Heaven to find it abandoned... | The Pearly Gates! After decades of living a life by strict moral standards, Tom had finally done it! He had reached his eternal resting place in the palace of the Lord. The only think hampering his excitement is the fact that he had been standing at these gates, alone, for the past two hours.
"I always thought Saint Peter was supposed to meet you at the gates and allow you inside." The old, slightly perturbed man furrowed his wrinkled brow and sighed, patting his thighs with his hands in a gesture of impatience.
"Well, the Lord helps those who help themselves, I suppose". With that, he pushed the large, ornate gates apart; a heavenly, if almost comedically so, tone plays as the golde, pearl-adorned fixtures move.
Tom wandered the grounds, stunned at the grandiose settings: giant stained glass windows depicting stories from the Bible (and even a few he didn't recognize), silken curtains and tapestries hanging from fixtures in every room, and more gold than even wealthiest king could have desired back on Earth. All of this would have been perfect, Tom thought, if it weren't for the unnerving silence. He hadn't seen a single soul since his entrance into the Holy Kingdom.
"H-hello? Anyone?" His expression had changed to one of uneasiness, bordering on fear.
"ANYONE? Um...Jesus?" Tom bit his lip, standing in place and wringing his hands as he mulls the situation over. Was he the only one deemed worthy of this perfect afterlife? He had always thought he was just a hair better than most, but was that little extra bit of "goodness" so important that it locked everyone else out of God's house? Or...no, this couldn't be Hell, could it? Forced to spend eternity in solitary confinement?
"Hey, buddy!"
Tom nearly fainted from the shock of hearing another voice, one that shattered the unearthly silence so sharply.
"Y-yes? Is that you, Jesus?" The old man turns every direction, peering at doorways and windows for the source of the voice. Finally, a shaggy-haired man sticks his head into the room through a nearby window.
"What? Hah, no, Jesus is over at the beer pong station. That guy is an absolute BEAST when it comes to putting plastic balls into cups of beer. Come on, we're all partying over at Valhalla. Open bar, bro!"
With that, the man disappeared, leaving Tom confused, both about the true nature of the afterlife, and about how you play "beer pong".
EDIT: Thanks for the gold, anonymous redditor =) I promise, fewer typos will be made in the future...I actually typed this up during rounds. Harder to type and walk than I thought, hah | The last thing I remember was everything going black. The darkness seemed to consume me, take me away with a swiftness I’d never felt before.
But now…everything is bright.
I walked up the stairs, taking my time to look around. I see the darkness below me, though I don’t remember ascending out of it. Up above the light is blinding, I can barely see. I’m afraid of what I may encounter as I take another step up.
Finally, I’ve reached the summit of the staircase. Stepping forward, a golden gate appears, shimmering in the sunlight. Seeing it is slightly ajar, I push it forward, hearing it creak open slowly. It was then that I noticed it.
The silence. It pervaded across the green fields that spread out before me, up over the mountain I saw in the distance, through the hills and valleys that rolled through the landscape. There was no escaping it. I had anticipated my afterworld being livelier than this, though not quite as beautiful.
I thought back to the party I had attended before my final moments. Surrounded by friends and having a good time, I had finally begun to feel less lonely, to feel the weight of depression slowly sink away. But now, I am alone again.
As I reached the crest of the first hill, I saw a crumbling stone wall at its base. Hoping for some sign of civilization, I ran down the hill, reaching the wall quickly. As I walked around to its other side, I saw that something had been written on it. Scanning over it, I realized that this was not the afterlife I was hoping for at all. As I spoke the words quietly to myself, I began to cry.
“We are forsaken. All has been lost."
First time writing in years, please let me know what you think. | 2014-05-10T09:39:29 | 2014-05-10T09:20:30 | 66 | 13 |
[WP] We expected the Earthlings to react with outrage and despair when we killed their leaders, destroyed their economies, and took over their governments—but to our surprise they seemed almost relieved. | It had been 8 months since the invasion had begun.
At first it was standard, simple even, but once we were able to eliminate their leaders... they seemed to celebrate. It was strange, really... there seemed to be a generational divide. Most of the younger ones welcomed our intervention with open arms. We had never experienced anything like these creatures, the humans.
We are one. We are all the same, all together. These “humans” were quite fascinating, once we started to set down our roots in their planet. Each being unique, like it’s own race. It does not share consciousness with anyone. And this has lead to astronomically large amounts of possibilities, ideas, and creations. The concepts of morality, heroes and villains, situations beyond what we had considered possible were all read or watched on a daily basis. This race was the genesis of ideas and creations, and it astonished us.
However, their separation also led to dissent and struggle. Since they were all separate, their were arguments, debates, conflicts, struggles for resources and what they generally refer to as “power”. They have parts of themselves rule over others, and they do not do a very good job at it. Their planet is dying, and the older generation is doing nothing about it. This is what led to their downfall. The divide between the young and old, those who fight for the future and those who fight for the present. So the youth accepted us, because although we were now in control, we were saving them.
However some of the old formed a resistance. There was one leader, one on the entire planet that we failed to kill. She was struck with 3 shots from our lethal rifles but failed to die. This... this we do not understand. The one whom they call Queen Elizabeth survived our attack and now leads the rebellion from the shadows.
We do not understand why they resist. We merely want to help, but it seems even though we are helping, they would prefer to be free then to be healthy and safe. This rebellion is starting to seem less like a resistance and more like a terrorist cell. We are in the trillions, yet they continue to attack and kill our hosts. However, every time they lead an attack on us, they hurt their own people as well. To try and get their “freedom,” they are willing to kill their own children.
2 years later.
It has been 2 years and 8 months since arrival. We have helped with most of their problems. We dissolved their governments and created new ones, we solved most of their diseases and viruses and established a place where no one would be hungry or safe. We are preparing to leave as an invasion force, but keep our agents their to maintain peace and balance.
Most of the rebellion is gone, but their figurehead remains. What we once thought was an elderly, privileged human has turned out to be much more. Their European Monarchy was not chosen by a god of faith, but by an ancient eldritch being. The eldritch donated its blood to the nobility of Europe, and in our time of invasion it had been activated. Many hosts have died attempting to capture or eliminate the figurehead. We have determined it is best to withdraw mostly, and hope that it will stop the resistance once we let them begin to run themselves again, with proper guidance, of course. We are not prepared to fight the descendant of an eldritch.
Overall, the project was a success. Only 14 million casualties, and 8 million of that was self inflicted. We believe the humans will be better off now, and we hope to be able to leave in 15 of their human years.
Of course, first we must eliminate the descendant of the eldritch. That is too powerful a being to remain alive. So we shall return in slightly under a decade with an extermination force. While we have helped them humans greatly, we will do them an even greater favor by destroying she with the blood of the eldritch. This is not the end, we will be back.
r/BosscoreWrites | When we took over, we expected resistance. And we got it, but only for a short time. When we had killed the leaders, and taken over, they almost seemed relieved. There were some who fought, of course, but most welcomed us. We expected resistance, especially from the younger ones, but none came. The most known for fighting welcomed us, fighting with us instead of against us.
When we took some back to the ships, the young ones told us why. About the oppressive governments of the past, the discrimination, the fighting, the people who killed just because they wanted to, the horrible people who got away despite solid evidence against them. About how the older ones were stuck in this, supporting it, leaving their children to fight ever-losing battles just so some people got basic human rights.
About how costs had gone up, so that most young adults were barely able to survive week to week. About how people were starving despite there being enough resources, and how the government was doing almost nothing. About how children were being hurt and thrown out just for being unique. About how most children were being forced beyond their capabilities, becoming stressed and depressed, how horrible things were happening to them. About the stereotypes just because or reproductive organs. About how their home was dying and almost no one was helping them solve it. About all the evils of their world that they were left alone to fight.
And that was the present. When they began to talk about the past, it became even worse. They told about how people were killed for liking different people, about how those of different skin tones had been made into slaves, about so many horrible things. One thing that most had concentrated on, one that was almost universally known, was the Holocaust. How could someone be cruel enough to torture and kill others just because they didn't believe the same things?
It was a horrible tale, that just got worse the more people we talked to. Some of the older ones had the same views, and we met more and more as they were separated from those they knew, as though they had been hiding. But alas, there were those who still thought all those people deserved what happened to them, that horrible people were *right*. It had been a gruesome wake-up call.
We had heard stories, of course, from those sent undercover, of this place called Earth. But nothing had prepared us for the true thing. Nothing even came close to comparable. We were appalled at what had happened.
By the end, we were truly glad we had decided to take over. We were able to change things, and the people here seemed more happy than any of the undercover ones had seen before. We took that as a good sign. It was calm, for once. We ruled peacefully, but had no hesitation in punishing those who had done wrong.
We fixed things. And for once, all was calm, and all was bright.
Edit: Posting more eventually at r/Maddies_Safe_Place! | 2020-10-10T21:18:28 | 2020-10-10T20:36:53 | 447 | 203 |
[WP] Every time you make food half of it always goes missing before you dish it out for yourself. After weeks of investigations and exorcisms you gave up and started doubling the food you make, but recently, money's gotten tight. You can't afford food for 2 and you're not sure what's going to happen | Annie had grey eyes and a long fringe of brown hair that made her face look a little like a half-open walnut shell. She wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t the most pretty girl either — except to me.
I don’t remember where we first met. I think it was a club, but I can’t be sure. I can be sure I loved her, but I can’t say how I’m sure. You ask me how I know it was love, and I’d say: I just knew it whenever I was with her. Could feel it.
I guess what I’m saying is that I miss her.
She’s been gone over a year. Tumour. Sprouted up like a weed that strangled the healthy, oxygen providing grey cells.
Before she died, she gave me a final gift: a locket. I guess she’d ordered it online, as she sure wasn’t getting out of bed and hopping to the shops at that point.
“You don’t need to wear it,” she said. “Just, I want you to have it. A way to remember us.”
The gold body fell open and there was a little picture of her on one side, and a little picture of me on the other.
“I love it,” I said. “I’ll always wear it.”
That was a lie, although I hadn’t meant it to be. I wore it until she died, then I couldn’t bear to. It was as heavy as a gravestone around my neck. I put it in a drawer like I was burying her for a second time.
Okay, enough. That’s Annie. That’s my wife. Ex-wife, I guess.
I’m sorry this is off to such a depressing start! I’m not a depressing guy generally. That old joke about dyslexic man walking into a bra? It still makes me smile.
I wanted you to know about Annie because it’s important to the story. And I guess I like to talk about her sometimes. O.K., pretty much all the time.
A month after she died something odd started to happen to me. You already know this bit, but here it is anyway: whenever I made a meal, half my food vanished before it reached my plate or my bowl. Definitely before it reached my mouth.
This occurred each and every time I cooked.
I started to lose weight because I wasn’t eating enough. Clothes started to slump off my shoulders or slide down my waist. I had to pierce new holes in old belts just to keep my pants up.
Where was this missing food going?
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking Annie was visiting me. Keeping me company for dinner. Because that’s what I hoped, too. And it’s why I did nothing about it.
I guess even then, part of me knew it wasn’t really Annie. She hated my cooking, and her death hadn’t done much to improve my culinary talent. Noodles I could do. I did do. Sometimes with vegetables, sometimes with meat. Always noodles though.
Seeing as half my food always vanished, I started cooking double. Smart solution. Annie would be proud.
”Here you are, sweetheart,” I’d say. Then I’d close my eyes, imagine her saying, “Noodles again? Come on, I know you can do rice.” I’d imagine her smiling, her grey eyes glistening.
”I love you,” I’d say. “Enjoy.”
I worked in an office at the time. And they’d given me a few weeks off for grieving and getting everything together, getting all my ‘stuff’ in order. But I just couldn’t come back in, even after that period finished. What was the point? Work was work and Annie was dead. Whatever I’d been working for, whatever reason I’d had to push myself out of bed in the morning and force myself into the office, it was gone.
Instead, I cooked noodles, I watched YouTube videos of people exploring forgotten buildings and mine shafts. Most of all, I slept.
My boss didn’t want to let me go. He really didn’t and I feel shitty about that, even now. But what could he do? He couldn’t keep paying his staff to sleep at home all day.
“I’m really sorry to do this to you,” he said. “I know you’re going through... a lot.”
”It’s okay,” I told him. “It’s not your fault.” I hung up and never spoke to him again.
I kept on living, but only inside my house. Alone except for the ghost stealing my meals. I kept on cooking noodles. Kept on watching trash. Kept on sleeping. Kept on talking to my dead wife.
Things got tough for me for a while. I didn’t have the money to feed myself properly, let alone me + Annie-ghost. I couldn’t cook double, so I cooked a little, and still my food halved. It had to. Because I had to keep Annie with me. Had to keep her fed and happy.
It was my dad who figured it out. An ex-electrician who’d become suddenly religious after Mom left him.
He’d heard I’d lost my job and come to visit. I didn’t invite him in but stood talking to him on the doorstep.
“God, you look awful,” he said.
”Isn’t that blasphemous to say?”
I told him about the food and how a ghost had been stealing half of it.
”It’s Annie,” I said. “I know it is.”
”She talks to you?”
”Well, not exactly.”
”Then how do you know it’s her?”
”Because she wouldn’t leave me, Dad. She’d never leave me.”
Dad pushed for an exorcism. Not only had he become religious, but he’d become a religious nut, at least in my eyes.
”No way, Dad. I’d rather starve than let someone chain up Annie. Cast her out.”
“Let me give you money then. You’re wasting away.”
”No Dad. I don’t want your money. We’re doing fine.”
”We?”
“Maybe it’s time for you to go home, Dad.”
Dad, his tongue between his teeth, fell silent for about two minutes. His eyes were damp. ”I love you, Son. I’m just worried about you.”
“I know.“
He wiped his eyes then blew his nose into a tissue. Then blew again. ”Mind if I throw this away before I go?”
I shrugged. “Be my guest.”
Dad walked past me into the hall. Into the kitchen.
He came back a moment later.
”By the way, what did you have for dinner last night?” he asked. “No wait, let me guess. Was it noodles?”
I frowned. “Yeah. Why?”
”Have you looked in your trash?”
Dad led me into the kitchen and held the lid up. I looked down on a mountain of wormy noodles.
”What...” I hadn’t been wasting noodles. Throwing them away. I never cooked enough to throw anything away. Hell, I was starving.
Dad placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got to let her go.“
I could feel my hands trebling. “What’s going on?”
”You know what’s going on.”
I shook my head. I didn’t.
”There’s no ghost. No one’s been stealing your food.”
“I don’t understand?” I said. “There must—“
“You’ve been throwing half of it away. Letting yourself pretend Annie’s still here. That she still needs you.”
”But...” I ran to the bathroom and vomited. Not that there was anything in my stomach. I had no memory of doing any of it! Of throwing anything away.. And yet...
Dad went home a couple of hours later, after I assured him a dozen times that I was okay.
I cooked dinner that night and nothing happened.
”Annie?” I said. Hopeful. Heartbroken. ”Food’s ready.”
Only silence. Only the cool pain of reality.
I’d been like a kid who didn’t understand the concept of death. Denied the beloved family dog was really dead. *It’s only resting, Pa*.
Maybe it’d been my way of keeping myself afloat. Maybe the immediate certainty of her being gone would have been a tidal wave against the bow of my ship. Would have splintered and snapped and drowned it.
I sat at the table and wept.
Later, when the day fell dark, I got up and left the kitchen. I went to our bedroom and found the locket in the drawer.
It didn’t feel so heavy anymore, even in my shaking hands. I sat on the bed and opened it, and I looked in Annie’s grey eyes for a long time. I told her I missed her. That I loved her. That I was sorry for being so stupid.
I told her that I know she’s gone, but that maybe she’s looking down on me. And if she is, she shouldn’t worry about me, because I’ll be okay.
The next day, I got up early. Sun still a little pink.
I’d been wrong thinking my reason to get out of bed was gone. Annie might not be here anymore, but she‘s still the reason. My reason. So I’m going to make her proud.
And really, she‘s still with me in the locket and still with me in my heart. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc -1, Interlude 1: Roger)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**Roger wished his invisibility was more useful.** His invisibility wasn't like the superheroes on TV, the U.S. Super-Spies who could sneak into enemy compounds and assassinate enemy leaders without ever being caught—except by the cameraman, of course. Roger's invisibility was the kind where teachers didn't notice when he didn't show up to class, and if he asked for money on the street suddenly nobody could see him, and when he got home from a day of passerby steadfastly ignoring his pleas, he was lucky if he could swipe half a sandwich from his snoring father's plate.
But if he tried to sneak food out from the grocery store, or snatch a few loose coins from the tip jar, suddenly his invisibility was shattered, and everyone knew exactly who and what he was. Just another street rat who needed to be swept outside. The one benefit of being invisible, Roger supposed, was that on an ordinary day, it meant his father paid him no attention.
This was not an ordinary day.
"I can't keep affording food for two, boy!" Mathias Elman roared. Roger flinched as he heard something *thunk*—somewhere, he knew, there was another dent in the fracturing walls. "Stop mooching off me and feed yourself!"
Roger shivered and glanced around his tiny room, the room that had once belonged to a brother that he'd never met. According to Mathias, his brother was probably dead on the streets somewhere, and good riddance to him.
But this brother-he'd-never-met had left things behind. Nothing material, mind you; if he could've taken it with him, he would've, and Roger didn't begrudge him that. He would've done the same. But there were markings at eye-level where a kid would know to look, little scratches and scrapes where the bedside cabinet had been pushed aside and pulled back repeatedly over the years. Roger's absent brother had, apparently, hidden the entrance to an unused crawl space behind that squat little cabinet.
A bittersweet smile twisted Roger's face as he pulled aside the cabinet and hid in the crawl space, then pulled the cabinet back, letting the darkness of the secret space embrace him.
It almost felt like his brother was watching over him.
It was dim and dusty inside, and filled with old Tupperware for some inexplicable reason, but there were several small cracks in the wall that let out light. Roger pressed his eye to one, peering out at their dirty kitchen. His father was stomping into his room; Roger couldn't help but flinch, bumping against the wall.
Mathias Elman paused, turning around.
"So you're hiding in the walls, you little brat?" Roger's heart began to jackhammer. Oh, God. Did Mathias know about the crawl space? Or had he simply heard him? "Maybe I should call a fumigator. Or an *exorcist*. Get this little demon out of my house," he grumbled to himself.
Roger exhaled, calming himself from the threats. They were empty; Mathias didn't have enough money to afford either service.
"Bloody little goblin, eating my food and sleeping in my bed." Mathias began investigating the room more closely; Roger held his breath. "Never did find out where Connor squirreled himself away in. Maybe I should've paid more attention."
Roger was invisible. Roger was invisible. Just like the Super-Spies. Roger was invisible.
Mathias pulled the bed aside with a squeak, then straightened, grunting in pain. "Alright, boy, how about this. Come out now, before I've thrown out my back, and I won't throw you out of the house for eating me out of house and home."
Roger swallowed. Could Mathias hear his heart beating?
"Last *warning!*" Mathias roared. He stomped towards the cupboard—
—and the doorbell rang.
Mathias paused. Then he scowled and turned around, pounding over towards the door. Roger crawled over and peered through the floorboards...
"YOU!" Mathias snapped. He swung a devastating fist at whoever was at the door—
—and something *blocked* it with a plastic-sounding thunk. Mathias jerked back, howling, as he shook his hand.
Two ragged leather shoes stepped in, and Roger's breath caught. Even before he stepped in, he hoped, he *knew* who it would be.
"Hello, Dad," Roger's older brother said. He held a plastic Tupperware lid in his left hand, of all things.
Mathias scowled. "Connor. I told you to leave if you were going to continue freeload—"
With a disgusted expression, Connor threw a lump of cash at his father.
Mathias blinked, then gave Connor a quizzical stare. "You and I know there's no love lost between us. So why—"
"Here's the deal." Connor walked up to his father—and although Connor was stick thin where his father was meaty, he still had a *presence* that forced his father back. "You spent eighteen years twisting my brain around your little finger, making me think I *owed* you for existing, that there was a *debt* I had to pay to you for the crime of eating the food you put on my plate."
Mathias shuffled through the money and scowled. "This is barely enough—"
"Shut the fuck up," Connor said. Out of sheer shock, Mathias' mouth clopped closed. "I'm willing to bet that you've done the same to my younger brother."
"It's just how life works," Mathias snapped. "You have to give *back* to your parents."
"It's not," Connor growled. "But it took me years to snap out of the shitty mindset you forced on me. I'm not going to get my brother to leave here unless he thinks he doesn't owe you anything. So that's for him." He poked the wad of cash with one finger. "And I'm taking him with me."
Mathias barked a laugh. "That's all you wanted? Hell, I'd have paid *you* to take that good-for-nothing gremlin off my hands."
Connor clenched his fists and jaw. "One day," he said, very calmly, "you will see me on the streets. And I will not look at you. I will not flinch when your face drags up memories of my childhood. I will not acknowledge you in any way, shape, or form, and I will never have to see you ever again. And that day will be the best day of my life."
Connor walked over to the crawlspace and knocked twice. "...Brother? Are you in there?"
After a moment, Roger scrambled to the entrance and pushed the cabinet aside. He took in his brother's face, eyes wide. "...Brother? Is... is that you?"
Connor smiled. "Yeah. Hi. I'm... I'm Connor. Your older brother."
Roger swallowed. "I... I'm Roger. You... you're really here. After all these years."
Connor's expression turned rueful. "Yeah. I'm sorry that I didn't come earlier. I didn't know that I had a brother until... recently. But it's okay. You're safe now."
"I'm safe," Roger whispered.
He stepped out of the darkness, and into his brother's embrace.
It was every bit as warm and comforting as he'd imagined.
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-04-22T11:01:14 | 2021-04-22T09:50:29 | 468 | 131 |
[WP] You die in a tragic accident. While sitting on a bench in purgatory, Mr/Mrs.Death approaches you and says, "Pick a game, any game, and if you are the victor, I'll send you back to the day before the accident." | You've gotta be fucking kidding me. Really? Helium? All I wanted was to sound hilarious for a minute, I didn't think you could actually die from it. Here I am on this bench with a number in my hand waiting to speak to Death and I couldn't be more pissed off. I have to get a do over on this. This is ridiculous. What will my mother tell people? Even the kid sitting next to me with the legos in his throat is looking at me like I'm a retard. And I have to agree. Where's Darwin in the afterlife, I'd like to shake his hand to congratulate him on being right.
Then my number is called. I get up and head into the office, reciting my case for why I should be allowed to respawn in my head. I shut the door behind me, turn around, and see a handsome man in a white tuxedo smiling at me like a mob boss, evil and amused. Great.
I sit down in the cushy red chair across from him. I get ready to start making my case when he says something first, "Pick a game, and if you are the victor, I'll send you back to the day before the accident."
I stare in shock. Seriously? It's that easy? I feel really moronic when I ask, "Why?" He just laughs and continues to stare at me. My brain starts to race. What game am I good at? I suck at chess, don't even talk to me about fucking Monopoly... Then it hits me.
"ANY game?" I ask.
"Any game." He says.
"Then I choose Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time for the N64."
He sits up in his seat, aggravated. "What?"
"You said pick any game, and if I win, I get a do over, right? So I choose Ocarina of Time."
He scowls heavily. "That's not what I meant."
"Ah, but that's what you said. Semantics, guy. If I beat the game, I win, right?"
He's furious. "I know for a fact you've beaten that game over 100 times."
"Well then I guess you don't have to watch me do it again do you?"
He laughs. "You know, if were less generous, I'd send you downstairs right now, but fortunately for you, I like how clever you are and I've met my quota for the week, so-"
FLASH. I wake up in my bed. I look at my phone. February 17th. Oh thank Christ. Alright, no more helium ever again. Got it. I get out of bed, triumphant. Thank you, Link. I move to my dresser when suddenly, I trip over one of my shoes and plant head first into my metal desk. BOOM. I open my eyes. I'm sitting on the bench again next to the kid with the throat legos. FUCK. | All the stories about Death, you know who came closest? Two sources. The Navajo and Neil Gaiman. Death has a sense of humor. And he talks in all caps.
When you die, the time between isn't instantaneous. Was your leg broken? You feel it heal. You have time to test it out before you arrive at Death's door. He wants you in tip top shape, after all.
Death is an equal opportunist.
He likes options. Wants you to have them.
His system was really broken, before me. We played backgammon four times before he made the rule that you couldn't play the same game more than once.
"I TORE THE SOUL FROM THE ONE WHO CREATED THIS GAME. PREPARE TO ENTER THE WORLD BEYOND."
"Maybe next time, D-man. I win this one."
I say he has a sense of humor because he honestly seemed surprised when he saw me again the next day. *Cmon, Death. You knew I wouldn't be long.*
You know what else is a funny thing, besides Death? Hubris. Destroying one of the conceptually oldest things in the universe at Go Fish is enough to make anybody feel unstoppable.
But that's where the Navajo got it right. Death doesn't lose. Not if he doesn't want to.
One time, he asked me, "WHEN WILL I STOP SEEING YOU HERE?"
*Never.* Here, my legs work again. I feel my face and the scars are gone. I don't have to remember that Cynthia is dead because of me...because I'm dead now too.
Some people think Hell is a place. I heard once that Hell is what you make it. I've always considered myself to have depth, you know? Be an intricate person.
I guess it makes sense that my version of Hell would be pretty intricate, too. | 2014-02-18T10:38:49 | 2014-02-18T09:22:13 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] "Son, i need to tell you something. I am a god." "Dad, I'm 20 and studying mythology. You don't think i haven't figured that out?" | "I'm so glad you came home for Thanksgiving, JJ. But before everyone else arrives I'd like to get a chance to talk with you about something. Can you sit down?" The words Mama H used implied it was a polite request, but the tone of her voice struck Jule's brain like a command. She had learned to ignore Mama H's commands when she was a child, but she obeyed anyways.
She sat down at the table, which Mama H had arrayed with the good china, the real silverware, and even the antique gravy boat that for some reason she always kept locked behind glass over the mantle. "What is it Mom?"
Mama H knelt down to look Jule straight in the eyes. "JJ, you turned twenty last week. I think you are finally old enough to know the family secrets. The truth about my side of the family." As she grabbed Jule's hands, the rest of the room seemed to go dark. The only thing Jule could see were her glowing eyes floating in the darkness. "I— I am a god."
Light flowed back into the room. Jule's mouth was slightly agape and she rolled her eyes. "Mom, I know. I've known since I was a kid."
Mama H jerked back and gasped in surprise. "How could you know? I've hidden it from you for all these years."
"Mom, your name is Hera. And you're currently nine feet tall. You forgot to shrink again. And Uncle Heph gave me a talking mechanical owl for my last birthday. And despite the fact that I am a hundred pound girl I can lift a car. And —"
Hera shrunk back down to a stately six feet and smoothed her hair. "Well. If you already know then I suppose there's not much to talk about, and I have a roast oxen in the oven to baste." She turned towards the kitchen.
"Wait, Mom. If we are talking about family secrets, why don't you tell me about Mama J?"
Hera froze for a second and wiped her eyes before turning back. "Your Mama Julia was the best person in the world. She's where you get your better half. You are a lot like her, your brown hair, your green eyes, that single-minded drive you have. She was a power to be reckoned with."
As she spoke, Hera futzed around with the table. When she got to the gravy boat, she held it in her hands without speaking for a minute. Jule interrupted her reminiscing. "And you were both my biological parents?"
"Oh, I took on another form for the day. A simple thing." She set the antique back down and turned back to Jule. "When you were born, things changed. She wished for a better world for you, a normal childhood. She couldn't escape the old world, though. The entanglements kept pulling her back until she was lost."
The doorbell rang. Hera rushed to the kitchen. "That'll be Herm. He's always early. You go play hostess, I've got to finish this basting."
(For fun, I set this one in the same universe as [yesterday's prompt](https://www.reddit.com/r/c_avery_m/comments/rdc990/wp_greetings_mortal_i_am_hera_queen_of_the_gods/).)
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] | "Son, I need to tell you something. I am a dog"
"No, dad. You're dyslexic."
"Dog gone it. Son, I need to tell you something. I'm a Dad."
"I'm 20 and studying biology. You don't think I've figured that out?"
"God. Dammit. What I meant to say is: I'm a god."
"Yeah, a god-damned good dad."
"Well yeah, but that's not what I meant."
"Well, what did you mean?"
"You tell me. You studied Mythology."
"Biology."
"My, Bi, or any other guy. The point is, you understand English."
"Yes."
"So what I'm telling you, in English, is that you're a god!"
"I am?"
"Wait, no. I mean. I'm a god!"
"And I'm your son. Does that make me a god?"
"No, you're a god son."
"OH MY GOD, YOU'RE NOT MY REAL DAD? I'm your God-son?"
"No, son. I'm god. Me god, you son."
"Sun? I'd rather moon."
(A pair of not-quite god-like pants drop, revealing a large, if not totally divine, set of meaty ass cheeks.)
"I... guess I should have seen that coming."
"Your goddamned right."
"Wrong. I don't damn that at all."
"Right."
"Right."
(Awkward silence, they stare at one another. Son slowly pulls his pants up and buckles his belt.)
"So, dad? Don't be mad, but there's another question I had. Are you a good god or bad?"
"Well, son, I'm glad you asked because this is a very important question. Really, it comes down to a question of Ethics and perspective. The Kantian school of thought would say... and you aren't listening are you?"
"Um... glad. Sad. uh... rad."
"And, you're just naming words that rhyme, aren't you?"
"Uhh... fad... b-blad? Is blad a word? Sounds like it should be a word."
"Oh, me damn it. I can't take living with you anymore. You know what...? I think we need some time apart. How do you feel about mangers and swaddling cloth? I think it's time for you to take a little vacation."
Merry Christmas, I guess. | 2021-12-10T08:48:39 | 2021-12-10T08:32:26 | 231 | 155 |
[WP] It's your first day as the recently-inaugurated President of the United States and you're being told all of the country's most top-secret information and projects. What's the most unbelievable thing you get told? | You know, you find out some strange stuff when you become president. And I could handle most of it. Some things were hard to believe, but there was just one thing that I still have a hard time with.
What you may ask? Well, it wasn't that Elvis is still very much alive and likes walking around Memphis occasionally, freaking people out.
It wasn't that Kennedy and Lincoln were still alive, chilling in Jamaica.
Nor was it that the aliens were real and in fact estimates of upwards of 50% of the world's population were actually alien.
I will admit that I was shocked when I found out that area 51 had nothing to do with the aliens. Apparently dragons did exist, but were hard to find, and area 51 happened to be home to one of them.
A unicorn was actually confirmed and spotted in North Korea. Go figure.
All the people who think the government and aliens are controlling their brains are right. They are actually extremely intelligent, powerful, and dangerous people, the tin hat a ridiculously ingenious invention. Fortunately everyone thought they were crazy, so we don't have to worry about silencing them.
There were in fact reports of a mysterious blue box that has shown up at different times throughout history, all seemingly important moments.
That there actually is a James Bond who works for the British government and is just as awesome as his movie counterpart. That secret was pretty cool actually.
I mean, yeah, all that stuff was crazy. But it wasn't anything to what I found out next. How I wish I had never found out. Perhaps it's better that no one knows.
You see, the truth is, the mice were the ones who had commissioned our world to be built. We've had it all wrong. Creationism, Evolution. Nope, it was the mice. | "Ok, WHAT?" I couldn't believe I heard General Anderson correctly. "There's a fully staffed Starbucks down there?"
"Oh yes, Sir. Not only that, but two ice cream shops and a four-star Italian place."
I apparently *had* heard him correctly. I closed my hanging jaw and tried to form my next thought. The White House nuclear war shelter was two hundred feet down, and apparently had a fully-staffed, fully-functional strip mall inside it.
"Hmm... well I guess it makes sense. Is there an arcade? I'm not going down there unless they have Donkey Kong." | 2014-09-18T13:10:32 | 2014-09-18T11:48:42 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] Time traveler(s) did go back in time to kill Hitler. They succeeded by convincing Japan to attack Pearl Harbor to bring the US into the war. | It had been another long day in the Imperial Navy, Yamamoto reflected. The Army and Navy were fighting over the latest budget increase again, and after arguing with an Army General that no, ships could not in fact run on fumes, for the past hour, he was looking forward to a quiet night of gambling at an acquaintance's home.
When he arrived, he was surprised to see that the fellows who awaited him at the mahjong table were people that he had never seen before. Most senior members of the Japanese government looked down on gambling and other vices, so the small community of avid gamblers was close and well-known. Where was his friend, anyways?
"Hello, Admiral Yamamoto," bowed one of the men. Upon a closer look he appeared to have several scars on his face. Bullet scars, then, perhaps from the war in China?
"My apologies," Yamamoto replied. "But I have not had the courtesy of meeting you fellows previously. May I ask you to introduce yourselves?"
"Indeed, forgive us for your audacity," said the first speaker. "But unfortunately tonight will not be the usual sort of gambling you were looking for. You may call me Sparrow."
"Well then, 'Sparrow-san,'" Yamamoto replied, "Are you perhaps the latest iteration of the hothead officers, looking to change the world by overthrowing the government yet again?" There had virtually been some plot or actual coup every month prior to the war in China, and many officers strongly disapproved of Tojo's tepid administration. Much as Yamamoto would be pleased to see Tojo go, he wasn't exactly interested in trying something unnecessary like this.
The man laughed. "We certainly are looking to change the world... at least the world of the future." At that, the man bowed. "For you see, that is from whence we came... and that is what we hope for you to achieve."
At this statement, Yamamoto could do nothing than laugh loudly. It was a deep laugh, embodying not only the ridiculousness of the man's statement, but also the ridiculousness of Yamamoto's day, and of the whole situation in general. At least these guys were forward with their craziness.
"I too, have read the American stories of time travel," said Yamamoto. "And I expect you to tell me of some incident deep in my past that nobody else would know about. Very well, I will take my first big gamble here and listen to you: what do you want me to do?"
The man named Sparrow seemed unperturbed by Yamamoto's outburst. If anything, a deep smile appeared on his face. "Why, nothing more than to launch an attack on the US Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor."
"Attack the US? Unprovoked?" Certainly, there were a lot of tensions between the US and Japan right now. They did not approve of Japan's war in China, nor did they approve of the Japanese seizure of Indochina. But there were already high level talks, and a special diplomat had already been sent to the US, so Yamamoto was confused as to what these people would look to achieve.
"Indeed... we want the US to get involved in the war. We know that the planners are already planning an attack on Malaya and the Dutch East Indies. We also know that there are thoughts to attack the Philippines to secure the supply route from Indonesia to Japan. But that won't get the US involved in the war enough... indeed, we have seen either a small scale conflict or a negotiated peace. No, we want the US to be engaged in a total war, one that will encompass the whole world, much as in Europe."
"I assume you are Japanese. No matter from whence you have come, you know that if Japan enters a total war with the US that it can only end in our complete destruction. And that an assault on Hawaii-on US territory-especially unprovoked-will enrage the Americans to the point where there will be no mercy for our Japan. Why would you condemn our people to such oblivion?" Yamamoto was frightened by this man's fervor, yet at the same time, he recognized that these men were not your normal crazed lunatics.
"The alternative is worse... for if the regime of Adolf Hitler is allowed to fester, you may count the population of us Japanese in this room, and it will be the same for virtually anyone else not "perfect enough" for their insanity."
Yamamoto felt a great headache coming on. This entire tale was crazy... but somehow, didn't it all seem to make sense? He had heard of the German hatred for the Jewish people, had seen their diplomats repeatedly ask for the few Jews on Japanese and Chinese soil to be exterminated. Certainly, that was the greater craziness... and that was the one that he knew was going on. He sighed.
"I am but an old man these days with little but my legacy to look forward to. Bringing Japan to ruin will no doubt be a massive stain on such a legacy. While I do not mind this fury on myself, for my family name and my descendants to be damned is too much to bear. If I partake in your scheme... will you at least seek to rehabilitate my legacy, that despite launching this crazy, nonsensical attack... that despite the fact that you of the future have had many years of history to know of ways that I could be more successful in the conduct of the war... that I was an intelligent man, who loved his men, who knew this was a bad idea, and who served his country despite knowing what this immediate future might bring?"
The man nodded, and Yamamoto nodded in return. The bodies of the men started to flicker, then they had abruptly vanished. A last, ghostly voice, seemed to echo in the now empty room.
"I will make sure that they know you are a great gambler, Grandfather."
| "What... is the meaning of this? How did you get in here?" The man reach for his glasses as he scrambles out of bed, reaching for his pistol as he rolls behind the bed.
"Revered Anc... President Tojo."
"Hideji," the second intruder in the man's room elbows once in the middle of his greetings, reminding him of the Ontological Variance threshold and again afterward. "It's 内閣総理大臣, it should be Prime Minister, don't tell me you forgot to update the Universal Translator to this period?"
The first intruder gives himself a facepalm before twisting the ring on his wrist rapidly. In the mean time, his partner taps something on his own wrist, emitting a scattering of aqua spheres of light across the room.
*click click*
The trigger of the pistol sounds out pointlessly. The intruders are speaking in Japanese that seems... off, as such, the man decides to subdue them for questioning and alert the guards at the same time, but the damn gun refuses to go off!
"Prime Minister Tojo, calm down please!" The second intruder hold his hands up with an ancient, tattered book in his hand.
"Guards! Guards!" The man in pajama screams loudly, throwing away the pistol in his hand and reach for the sword sitting against his nightstand.
"It's no use, no one can hear you." The first intruder picks up the pitcher of water sitting on the table and throws it against the floor. "Just, calm down and read this, oh, and he did say to read this first. Unless you are too scared to read some words in front of two unarmed men." The man reaches into his breastpocket and pulls out a handwritten letter inside a sealed water-stained envelope, putting it on the table. Likewise, the second man puts the book in his hand down onto the table before backing away.
With the sword unsheathed, the man picks up the envelope, staring at the seal and the all too familiar handwriting addressed to him with a frown.
A quick tear along the side of the envelope, a crisply folded, brilliant white piece of paper falls out. The frayed edge and slight yellowing at some parts speak of its age, despite the high quality of the calligraphy paper. The man unfolds it and read it from top to bottom, right to left, a look of doubt, then a look of surprise, then anger, then fear. Ignoring the two suspicious man, he grabs the book gingerly, flipping the paper from right to left, his eyes never stopping. With the occasional frown and gasp being the only companions.
The atrocities at Nanjing already weighted heavily on his mind, but for the sake of the Empire, he can only ignore it. But to think, the Empire would expand to do so repeatedly in Los Angeles, San Diego, Seattle, and elsewhere. But for the Germans to betray them like this... and after beating them in the 20 Years War, their own citizens would rise up to try and save the so called "inferior races".
The man has no doubt of the content of the book, he can see his own thoughts, analysis and of course, the allusions that only he'd know in the writings.
"So... what happened afterwards?" The man tries to hold back the tears threatening to overflow from his eyes.
"There's only 1183 of us left."
The man stares blankly for a few moments. "And how many times has it been?"
"..." The two men look at each other in shock. Their bodies starting to flicker in blossoming red-lights, like butterflies of blood. Resigned to their fate, the two man answers truthfully.
"We don't know, we just know that each time, it seems to be getting better, Great Grandpa."
"I see... and why Osaka Imperial University?"
"Huh? That place was wiped out during the Doolittle, er... The Osaka Raid by the Chinese in 1942."
"Ah... I see." The two men's red silhouette bursts as soon as the man realizes the truth, leaving nothing except for the broken pitcher scattered across the floor, the book and letter no longer in the man's hand. Strangely enough, a tiny piece of crude electronics is left behind.
"This was supposed to be a right and just war..." The man sighs, having to waste the work of his trusted rival in the Navy. "They say the ancestor have to plant a tree to shade their descendants, but they never mentioned about bearing their sins." The man couldn't shake the estimated casualty number written by his another self. A singleman for billions, to atone, this isn't such a bad deal. The man laughs bitter as he walks out, since those warmongers wants it so bad, so be it.
------------
Bonus
An android bursts into a control room, expecting resistance. "All your bases are belong to us!" But only the hum of the machinery answers its declaration, shortly after, everything wavers, then disappear.
| 2016-10-30T12:47:00 | 2016-10-30T11:43:08 | 47 | 15 |
[WP] The Devil promises you everything: fame, fortune, all the things a mortal will ever need for paradise on earth. But he doesn't want your soul, he just wants you to take his socially awkward daughter, Gertrude, out on a date. Make her special, y'know?
**EDIT** All of your responses have been amazing! I wish I had time to leave feedback on all of them. You guys rock! | "Everything I could ever want?" I asked.
"Everything you could ever want," replied the Devil.
"And what if 'everything I could ever want' includes not having to give you my soul?"
The Devil chuckled. "Oh, I'm not here to ask for your soul."
And that was how I ended up on a date with Gertrude.
---
I arrived at the park right when Gertrude did. She was wearing jeans and a button-up shirt, looking more like a college student than literal hellspawn.
"Hey! I'm Phil," I said. *Do I shake her hand? A hug?*
She kept her hands in her pockets and didn't quite meet my eyes. "So I know my dad put you up to this, but thanks anyways. I don't get out much," said Gertrude. She smiled but was still looking down.
I smiled back. "It's my pleasure." I thought about the prize that awaited me. *Everything I could ever want.*
There was some initial tension as we walked, but she was a lot easier to talk to than I'd anticipated.
"So, like, do you have a last name?" I asked.
She furrowed one brow. "What?"
"Like, is it just Gertrude?"
"Oh, one sec." She snapped her fingers and a driver's license materialized in her hands.
"Holy shit," I said as she handed it to me. I studied it for a few seconds. Where the name should have been, there were just some symbols that looked like something you'd see on a Led Zeppelin album cover. I wasn't sure what was weirdest: the magic I'd just seen, the weird symbols, or the fact that the state of Montana had apparently issued this license. "This is awesome."
She chuckled. "If you thought that was cool, check this out." She snapped her fingers again and thick dark clouds quickly enveloped the sky. I started hearing shrieks from all around the park. She snapped her fingers again, and the clouds retreated.
"Oh my God," I said, "that was incredible."
Her smiled disappeared. "Please don't say that."
"What, 'incredible?' It was!"
"No, the previous thing."
"You mean 'Oh my God?'" I thought for a second. "Oh. *Oooooh*. Yeah. Sorry."
"It's alright," she said. Her smile returned.
We spent the rest of the afternoon doing arcane magicks and bonding over our common love of classic rock. She'd been alive for time immemorial, but in her opinion, human music had only really been any good between 1965 and 1982.
As the sun started to set, I realized we'd spent the entire day together, and I never wanted it to end.
"Gertrude," I said.
"Yeah?"
"I really liked getting to know you. Can I see you again?"
She smiled. "Of course."
I smiled back, and went in for a kiss.
I realized then that the Devil had already made good on his promise. Gertrude was everything I had ever wanted.
---
**Part 2: http://www.reddit.com/r/rpwrites/comments/36pxis/the_devils_soninlaw_part_2/**
**Part 3: http://www.reddit.com/r/rpwrites/comments/36tqgl/the_devils_soninlaw_part_3/**
**Part 4: http://www.reddit.com/r/rpwrites/comments/377zml/the_devils_soninlaw_part_4/**
**Part 5: http://www.reddit.com/r/rpwrites/comments/37ck44/the_devils_soninlaw_part_5/**
**Part 6: http://www.reddit.com/r/rpwrites/comments/37p26s/the_devils_soninlaw_part_6/** | "Wait, so you don't want my soul?"
"No John, I don't want your damn soul, why do people think that I'm like a soul collector or something. I mean, I used to, but I grew out of it. Besides, Pokemon cards definitely hold more value then souls, that's where it's at."
"Wait, my soul is damned?"
"Ugh you humans are so selfish, I made a perfect segway to talk about Pokemon with you and you're concerned about my syntax."
"Sorry"
"Anyways John, I don't want your soul, I just need you to do me a favor, and you can have literally anything you could ever need."
"Alright, what do you need? A space hard drive? Need me to kill someone? I'm not too sure I'm comfortable with that."
"Actually I-"
"You know what, I could kill Dave if you needed me to. He's always so annoying. Like Dave, no one cares about your stupid kids, shut up already! Am I right?"
"Uhh I guess yeah whatever, anyways, I need you to take my daughter, Gertrude, on a date."
"You have a daughter?"
"Yeah"
"Called Gertrude?"
"Yeah alright, is she good looking?"
"She's the nicest girl you will ever meet."
"Oh, guess not then, is she at least human?"
"Yes of course, but she is a bit shy."
"That's no problem, I'll just use my boyish charm to win her over."
"Just make sure she has fun. I want you to make her feel special. And absolutely no hanky panky, I'm watching you."
"I didn't know the devil was aware of 'hanky-panky'. But yeah don't worry, if her personality is as good as you say it is, I don't think you need to be concerned."
"What does that mean?"
"Umm nothing, when do you want me to do it?"
"Now, it's not like she's busy or anything."
Suddenly, John was transported to a suburban Californian home. He knocked on the door and it swung open almost instantly. In front of him, she was standing eagerly, already prepared for the night ahead. She looked like a hybrid between Medusa and Rick Ross. John stood there, like a deer caught in headlights, and stared at her with mouth agape. After an uncomfortable silence, he finally gathered himself enough to say,
"Sorry, I have the wrong house."
Before she could respond, he sprinted out of there like a bat out of hell. Satan sat on his satin sofa, staring at the stained screen in front of him. He sighed, and stared searching for someone else.
| 2015-05-20T08:26:36 | 2015-05-20T07:47:35 | 1,662 | 361 |
[WP] You are a Soul Jumper. In order for you to stay alive, you have to be killed by another human being, because every time someone kills you, your consciousness jumps and hijacks your murderer's body. Dying at your own hands or through natural causes such as disease and old age is not an option. | No one forgets their first, for me it was the sound of muttering incoherent screams follwed by a swift crack to my head.You might imagine being slain by an ancient babylonian warrior would put a damper on my spirit.
I can't really explain what happened, you might imagine that being alive for so long I would have a clearer picture of what happens when I do "it".All I hear is static and a pop and suddenly, I see the world through another man's eyes.Both metaphorically and physically, with the latter being the more humourous of the two.
As far as I can tell, its God's strangely hillarious comeuppance for those who seek and destroy.
History is frought with war. War is lucrative. War is gutteral. War is. Sometimes you get clubbed by an aristocrat, maybe shanked by a slave or two, occasionally you get lucky but mostly you get stuck with flea infested, lice-ridden meatbags looking for a quick buck in a war started by a rich man they'll never get paid from.
You know how they say a soldier is never really the same when he comes back from war.Maybe he met me, maybe he fired and a stray bullet happened to catch me in one of my lungs.One moment im searing with pain staring at the wrong end of the rifle and the next I've got the wooden stock of another mans rifle pressed in hollow between my neck and shoulder.
Learning a new language is difficult.Most people just think their friend or husband went mute from shock.Humanity is too quick to attribute PTSD to something that we can't quite comprehend.
Too quick in passing judgement to realise that maybe that crazy vets wife is right.That the man seated in her living room is NOT her husband.Now at this point, I realize that it all sounds really sinister.Let me clear things up for you, no one asked these men to be "heroes". To be martyrs and quite frankly sometimes I get stuck with the strangest circumstances.
Men with secret lovers, extra families, debts and heck even the odd prized terrapin collection.Its a handful of information to take in when i've just taken my seat in the throne of his body.
Recently though, the world has hit a rough spot. By that I mean it hasnt. It hasnt gone to war in a long time. I know what you are saying , but im not about to join up some crazy war against any extremist to end up speaking a gibberish language in a country that barely has a functional government. Let me tell you, for people like me, the golden age was when they dropped the big one in WWII. Becoming anyone of those people would have been brilliant for me.
As of late, getting killed has been rather hard.All these "humanitarians" and politicians with their kindness campaigns and "education". The only people who want to kill anyone these days are homeless stinky vagrants with gratuitous drug problems or brainless thugs.None of whom are desirable candidates in which i want to take up residency.
I've lived long enough to know that as long as someone slaughters me i get a new body. However, its pretty hard to choose who gets to murder you. Most people arent so inclinced to take the murderous route of discourse.
So im going to try something new, something that either ends this long and fruitful journey or with me seated in the driver seat of my new Bugatti claiming "SOME CRAZY ASSHOLE JUST JUMPED IN FRONT OF MY CAR".
| "She's dead, Daniel! Oh, how she screamed!" I shouted, with a smirking grin on my face. Dan was 5 feet in front of me. He was perfect. I wanted to be him. I *needed* to be him.
"Your wife is dead because of me!" I continued.
Being a *salire spiritus*, latin for jump spirit, was a terrible fate. 3 souls since I was Keith. I remember the first time I found out about it. I was shot dead by a mugger. Failed robbery and what not. Suffered 3 years in jail for that muggering bastard, only to be killed by some lunic loan shark. So that's me now. His name was Trevor, I'm Trevor. I tried my best acting it up for this life. I knew that I needed a new body. A new life. The only thing that tagged along with my soul jumping was my memories and the tattoo on my right arm. *Salire Spritus*.
Choosing Daniel was easy. He had some history with Trevor. 3 years ago, Trevor lended Daniel some money for Daniel to start his own company. It went great, and Trevor got his money back with interests. However, Daniel didn't like the way Trevor eyed his wife. The motive was great. I decided to fuel that rage in Daniel. I needed him to realize that Trevor, me, had killed his wife. (I hadn't by the way). The gun was neatly visible on the table. I *forgot* that it was there. It was going to be perfect.
The pace of his breath increased. His anger was incomprehensible. I needed to conceal my happiness. Finally free from this terrible life. He leaped for the weapon, I acted as if I needed to defend myself. He pointed it towards me, cried out: "FUCK YOU!".
I opened my eyes. The silent rush in my body urged me to scream of joy. I saw the corpse. That must be Trevor. Wait? "What the fuck?" I said to myself. Dan was dead. He shot himself. I walked slowly toward his lifeless body. The blood still goushing out of his left-side temple. The realization came so slowly, like a needle that pierced my body with the pace of a turtle. I didn't want to accept the truth. I needed to know. I couldn't walk away from this now. I grabbed his right arm and pulled down his sleeve. | 2015-04-26T05:30:22 | 2015-04-26T05:09:41 | 94 | 12 |
[WP] You and your colleges simulated the big bang in a quantum computer. You never thought it was 100% accurate, in spite of this you fast-forward and find Earth. | "Is that Earth?" was something I countlessly asked myself as I saw this astronomically hot ball orbiting around this huge star. My friend, obviously puzzled looking, stares at me, "Wh- What should we do?" I stare back at him, with an almost blank stare, thinking of all the things that we could do. Do we fast-forward further and see today? Do we try to change history? The possibilities were endless.
I slowly feel the words begin to come out of my mouth, "We, we could be Go- Gods." My friend, obviously puzzled, had a slight feel towards those in the simulation: "We can't do that man. Those are, those are people lives we would be controlling." Having no moral dilemma about what I'm about to do, I tell him "They are just lines of code. Nothing more." My friend asserts, very sternly, he wanted nothing to do with it and leaves the lab.
I, obviously happy to be alone, go and lock the door to the lab, and slowly walk back to the computer, setting the year to 1935, thinking "If I'm going to play God, why don't I do what any rational thinker would do, and kill Hitler?" I look at the simulation, zooming into Berlin to see a younger Hitler arming Germany. I begin to type in a few lines of code, essentially making Hitler die of an unexpected heart attack. I hit execute and begin to watch the events unfold and happily see Hitler die in the simulation. I fast forward again to 2019 and see what I called a better world, a world saved by be. The second world war never happened, and the US never became the super power that it became in out timeline.
I loved this rush of power, this rush of feeling like what I was doing was right. I began to quickly attempt to change other points in history throughout this simulation. I stopped the Holy Wars, I stopped the assassination of JFK, I stopped the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. I even stopped the fall of the Roman Empire to stop the dark ages. I, at this time, still checked the progress of the current year and kept noticing a better world. The world was so advanced. Nothing I can do was wrong. I started to Google the worst things in history and one thing came to my mind before I could even hit "enter," religion.
I remembered watching an episode of Futurama years ago talking about religion being the worst thing to ever happen to society. I thought to myself, "Why allow Jesus be the one people pray too? I'm the God here, not him." So, I smiled and went back to the time in which Jesus was alive, as a baby, and simply erased him. I typed in a few more lines of code and changed Jesus, to another child that would drop hints about my God-ness. I'd call myself Solara.
Throughout the history in this timeline Solara would take the place of God, but wouldn't ever rise to the level of Jesus in our current time. I would have hints of my power throughout the world, small things like changing the name of the Bible to "the morality book." I changed small little symbols, such as the christian cross, to a square around that cross instead. I added my name engrained in mountains, etc. I erased all concepts of heaven and hell, etc. I kept thinking to myself, what a world this will be with no real religious afterlife influence.
I executed everything and fast-forwarded to 2019. As I did the computer glitched a little, but still seemed to work. I looked at the state of the Earth, and everything seemed normal. I zoomed into my location to see if I was still there and was shocked to see myself doing the exact same thing, doing this simulation. "Weird" I thought, but still began looking around the world I created and saw churches with different symbols, etc. After my long God work, I was tired, so decided to leave the simulation on and go to bed. I packed my belongings and walked out the door of the lab. As I walked outside, everything seemed normal, but felt "off." I walked towards my dorm room, noticing the name had changed to "The Alexander Hall for Men." I looked, "When did they change this?" As I get in my room I see my roommate and tell him "hey." As I put my bag down I notice on my desk "the morality book." Panicking, I open it and see "the great Solara" in it. I drop the book and ask my roommate "what is this? A joke?" He looks back at me, "what do you mean? Its Solara. Don't you remember learning about that in history?"
I start to hyperventilate and look outside. I see a mountain near my school with Solara written in it, although quite old. I look at the church on campus and see the same symbol I had made. "Did I- did I do this?" I ask myself as I pass out.
END---
&#x200B;
P.S. Never did this before, but the prompt seemed really cool:) Please don't hurt my feelings too much. I hate grammar so it may not be perfect. | “Remember, this simulation is timed! Your two hours starts now.” Mr. Higgins started his stopwatch and the student groups huddled around their computers.
“So we already have our plan. We just need to make a working simulation to produce life. Will, is the big bang ready to go?” Jason asked.
“Ready.”
“Okay. Start simulation…..now.”
Their large screen swirled with color and then shapes as matter collided in a massive explosion. Afterwards, the screen was dark.
“Did the computer turn off?” Corey asked, tapping the side of the monitor.
“No, you idiot. This is outer space, created by the big bang. We have to find a planet or something, anything that might host a molecule or something,” Jason said.
“There! A planet, that blue speck on the right,” Will pointed. They zoomed in on the blue and green planet, floating through space.
“An entire solar system!” Jason said. “There’s got to be life somewhere here. How much time is left?”
“Hour and a half,” Corey said.
“Zoom in and speed up the simulation. See if anything develops.”
They fast-forwarded the simulation for thousands, maybe millions of years before Will’s program picked up a clump of cells in the ocean.
“Document that,” Jason ordered. “Does it count?”
“Yes, it worked! Fast forward again and see if it develops anymore; I want the best specimen.”
“Wait!” Corey said. He tapped on his computer for a second. “Okay now fast forward.”
“What did you do?” Jason asked.
“Added in some big scary lizard things to liven this up.”
“Dude, if your dragons kill my cells I’m going to be SO pissed,” Will snapped.
“They won’t, probably.”
The simulation resumed and sure enough, the dragons began eating everything.
“Well no duh,” Jason said. “Get rid of them.”
“Awwww,” Corey pouted as Will sent a meteorite to destroy them.
The boys sped the simulation forward again by millions of years. Not only did the clump of cells evolve, it multiplied. They watched in awe as the first humans began to take their first steps, shedding tails and straightening their posture in a matter of seconds.
“Sentient life,” Will said in awe. “Look, they’re building pyramids, agriculture is spreading. They have kingdoms, countries, politics, love.”
“Slow down,” Jason said. “There’s so many of them now. They have fashion trends and music.”
Corey zoomed in on a young human man, walking down a street in one of the numerous towns in numerous countries that had been created.
“Look, this guy just met a girl,” he said. “Fast forward, I want to see if they get married.”
Jason rolled his eyes but the assignment was complete and they still had a few minutes before their time was up.
“Fine.”
They watched the young man and young woman meet, get married, have children, and eventually, grow old.
“Their lives are over so quickly,” Will said. “Even without us speeding up the simulation, they would have been gone in a snap.”
“Look, their children still remember them though. It’s a quick cycle but there is something beautiful about it, right?”
“Their children even kind of look like them. And now they’re having children too!” Corey exclaimed. “I wonder if any of them will see the Eiffel Tower like their grandma always wanted to?”
“Time is up!” Mr. Higgins said, clicking the stopwatch button. “Let’s see how everyone did.”
The boys didn’t notice that the class period had ended, so engrossed were they in the descendants of their chosen couple.
“Well done!” Mr. Higgins boomed, startling all three boys. “Intelligent life developed!” He leaned over and tapped the delete button, sending the entire simulation, Earth, and all of the grandkids and great grandkids swirling into nothingness in the blink of an eye.
“No!” the boys shouted.
“A + for the entire table, good work.”
Mr. Higgins checked off Group C on his notepad and moved to the next table. | 2019-04-11T06:36:07 | 2019-04-11T05:18:55 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] A Generation Ship reaches its destination after a thousand year journey only to find that humans developed FTL drives while they were gone and have already colonised the planet. | In three more weeks, we will be there. We've heard stories of what it would be like to live on the surface, from a time when Earth was still habitable. I've seen pictures... and videos of beautiful animals, some of them colorful and majestic and others that would blend into their surroundings, but the flora has always been my favorite, especially trees. I love the way that sunlight filters through the branches, the way the leaves change colors and decorate the ground, the hardy look of the bark. I wonder how it feels?
I've never seen a real tree before. The nearest natural environment has always seemed so impossibly far away. I've had dreams of what it would be like though – A loud bang followed by a steady rumble interrupted my thoughts. It must be the impulse reactors! That means we're close! Peering out the window, I could see it, a dark blue dot floating in the immensity of emptiness. But then I saw something else, some kind of light... As soon as it came into view, it shot towards us at impossible speed. They were a collection of 3 colossal rings that dwarfed our 2 mile long ship; they must have been at least 5 miles in diameter.
There was a flash of light... and as soon as my eyes came back into focus, there it was, the planet that we had journeyed so long to reach, but there was something wrong. The planet was supposed to be 85% water, but the oceans were hardly there. And more worryingly, we were hovering over a crater the
size of a continent. Then we began our descent.
As we got closer, I could see that this wasn't a crater; it was a giant city whose buildings seemed to melt into one another. Or maybe it was just one giant building.
“Welcome to your new home! We hope you'll settle in nicely!” bellowed a voice that seemed to come from no particular source.
“We can park the ark on the outskirts if you'd like. It seems like you guys have had your fill of artificial structures for now.”
As we approached our destination, a structure comparable in size to our ship congealed out of the ground and lurched upwards, attaching itself to the hull. The way it moved made it seem like it was alive. Then the movement stopped, and the rings vanished.
“There are some kleptors -I'm sorry, you probably don't recognize that word. They're kind of like computers.- downstairs. They'll help familiarize you with your new surroundings and provide any information you need. You can keep one for yourself, as we're not short on supplies. Just clip it to the back of your ear and allow 30-45 seconds for it to integrate into your nervous system.”
I wish I could ask some questions before that.
“Oh you can if you'd like.”
Edit: I'm glad you guys like it :) I'm on a tight schedule, but I'll try to write some more in the next few days. I'll let you know when I do by responding to your comments directly. | I wrote this story in highschool.
In my version, humanity had become completely docile during the 1200 year lapse due to a lack of war and the removal of inherited "mental issues" that cause aggression.
Each planet contained only 6,200 people because that was "enough" to restart the human race if required.
My story ended with the generation ship crew disconnecting the "governance" computer on their new world and cannibalizing materials to form makeshift farming tools so they could take control of their own destinies.
My dead-eyed English teacher gave me a "B" for the story. [Everyone gets "B"s](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xAhuSDRIDHE).
The next story I wrote was about an alien artifact that was discovered on the moon that, although solid, was able to nullify mass and seemed to be designed as a sub-atomic 3D printer. While the UN debated the consequences of this machine and it's use, a group of scientists snuck aboard the "investigated it" and "accidentally" activated it because they were curious. When activated, the device, containing it's crew, begins to "knit" a mass-less tower that it began to climb while it was being constructed. The story ends when the tower reaching a height of 670,000,000 miles and the orbital rotational velocity of the devices, uninhibited by mass, causes the probe's crew of scientists to pass the light speed barrier. [I got a "B" for that story too](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYtXuBN1Hvc).
That same year, when I was 13 years old, I wrote a computer program to solve an Advanced Math project question. My Advanced Math teacher deducted 20% of my grade because my computer program didn't round it's solution to two significant figures, even though the aim of the project was to best solve the problem. Students that used mindless "trial and error" got full-marks.
Sorry about the rant... but now that I'm in my 20's, I look back with disgust at my education.
| 2014-11-20T04:01:00 | 2014-11-20T02:17:07 | 34 | 21 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | It's dumbfounding really. No other species figured out how to replicate the engine which drove all the galaxies stars. In a way, the blindness of the various species was more ideological than technological. It wasn't that they couldn't discover fission or fusion. They simply wouldn't use its power.
In the millennia before humanity took to the stars, a single civilization discovered a means to transport using some sort of trans-dimensional hoopla. Frankly, it was almost more of a spiritual experience than anything humanity ever developed. Individuals on this planet could imagine themselves elsewhere and, bingo, they there were. To most humans, it was reminiscent of New Age nonsense and, well, their little minds really couldn't accomplish this. Humanity was alone among the higher life forms.
So there evolved throughout the galaxy a completely alien concept of travel for humans. It was relatively easy for most civilizations to adopt. Vast trade networks evolved and much of the galaxy opened to a powerful intersection of ideas. Philosophy and spirituality coalesced around the theory that all that is must be preserved on the atomic level. Creation had determined that atoms, the basic foundation of all matter, was sacred.
Natural degradation at the atomic level was permitted, but interference by any life form on the atomic level was forbidden.
When humanity took to the stars, replete with fusion drives, the galaxy shrieked in horror. Attempts were made to convince humanity of the wrongness of atomic meddling but were ultimately dead ends. Humanity was simply incapable of learning how to maneuver the cosmos in the same way as everyone else.
Other civilizations began to see the relative ease by which humanity traveled and decided they wanted in on the deal. The mental training necessary to build human engines was minimal by comparison.
Gradually, the galactic order began to degrade as civilization after civilization peeled off and adopted the simpler mechanical approach. Eventually, it was decided that humanity was a reprobate civilization and must be destroyed in entirety.
The dominant military powers transported enormous amounts of death using disease, terrifying creatures, and shock troops. Much of humanity was destroyed in the initial attack. However, those on board human ships were protected from the invaders. The radiation produced by the engines disrupted whatever enabled the other species used. Additionally, the exposure to the unnatural radiation while in transit did something bizarre to the traveler. It seemed to disrupt the ability of the traveler to use the power again. They were essentially cut off from future travels.
Once upon human worlds, the opposing forces looked up in terror as humanity made use of their most powerful weapon. A product of long-forgotten political tension, a well-tested delivery system dotted former colonies with mushroom clouds. Human commanders made the decision to sacrifice what was left of their comrades in order to defeat their enemies. With the surviving invaders unable to escape, the defenders deployed hunter-killer drones and other mechanized weaponry. The losses were incalculable.
Quickly, humanity pivoted from the defender to the attacker and destroyed planet after planet. Human scientists began to experiment with more powerful weapons including both planet killing and supernova inducing weapons. As humanity closed in on their enemy's home planets, the night sky on Earth remained unchanged. It would take millennia before the darkness of the once bright galaxy could be truly seen, but the darkness inside humanity was easy to recognize. They were the victors, vengeful and proud. | "So you split the atom and then all this crap comes flying out and it decimates entire cities?"
Robert thought being probed by the aliens was intrusive enough but this new line of interrogation was proving more uncomfortable then the intial insertion of the Probulator 9000 he was being subjected to.
"Well, yah pretty much. I mean I don't know any of the details but that's pretty much it."
Other probe administrators had left their operating stations to hear the human's tale. The concept of human warfare was by far the most intriguing and controversial discovery that came from their first visit to earth. It was decided that contact would be minimized with earth after watching war grow over the ages. When last contacted the humans spent much of their money and time and life digging trenches and exchanging small arms fire in an already unfathomably cruel act called war. But famously that war was known as "the war to end all wars" and no further progress was expected in the human art or administration of warfare. Clearly this was not the case. Baffled by the only clear progress humanity had made in generations, the Grand Inquisitor continued his data collection about this super weapon.
"Like a whole city? Like a city the size of the one we beamed you up from? A million plus men, women and children? Just gone forever. And then you can't even safely go back to the place where it happened for a hundred years?"
For a moment Robert wondered how a race of beings who had mastered intergalactic travel hadn't figured out nukes yet and began to ponder if they had ever made any tool of agression or even an act of aggression towards themselves or others. But then the Probulator 9000 zapped his mind back to the line of questioning at hand and he was forced to answer to the best of his knowledge and ability.
"Yah that's pretty much how it works. I mean I don't know how it works and I can't help build you one. Only the smartest among us using the rarest of materials and latest technology could ever..."
"Make us one?" The Grand Inquisitor shook his head. "We don't need one of those. No way do we want to take something potentially used for clean fuel and a better society and then use it to keep our people in constant fear of total annihilation. The worst thing we are ever associated with is the Probulator and I feel bad enough about that." | 2019-12-19T07:14:10 | 2019-12-19T04:46:01 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] "I don't understand if this is a diplomatic mission why are we bringing weapons?" The sole alien crew member turned to him and said, "Personal armament is a fundamental part of my culture and we don't want to offend the delegation. Besides we think it's really strange you guys aren't armed." | When the captain and first mate just silently looked at each other the diplomatic officer continued, "It all comes down to the generally unspoken social contract. In your own culture an individual would not arrive to visit another nude. Why not?"
This got a chuckle from some of the crew. The navigator, a slow speaking Canadian with a thick neck and bovine teeth drawled out "Well it's just not something you do. I mean people would think you are crazy... Or weird anyway."
The diplomatic officer nodded glad that at least one had taken the bait. "People would be uncomfortable that you broke the rules! Even if those rules are never explained." He paused and turned in his chair so he could make eye contact with the first mate who posed the question. "When you break a fundamental rule of social interaction people struggle to figure out what message your action is supposed to send."
The first officer had an inkling of understanding but she wasn't there yet. "So would it be something sexual then?" she smirked although there was a mark of discomfort in the lines of her mohogany forehead.
The diplomatic officer shook his head "No, probably not... Or not entirely anyway. Approaching unarmed is a step in courtship but based on context none of my people are likely to interpret an unarmed approach that way. More likely it would be viewed as treating them as... I'm not sure if there is an English word..." he paused closing his eyes slits "treating them as one unworthy of being a threat. The way you may look at an infant or one who is feeble." While most of the crew had a difficult time reading the diplomatic officer's emotions his disgust at the word feeble was so visceral as to leave no doubts.
The mood darkened at this, with several present mentally reviewing past interaction with the diplomatic officer with fresh understanding. The alienness of the destination truly took shape for the crew that day. | "But they DO know it's a diplomatic mission,right? I mean, we're not going to walk in to some kind of ambush, are we?"
The alien shrugged but said nothing as the shuttle set down.
The doors hissed open and the delegation stepped into the harsh sunlight, led by the Ambassador.
Despite all her training, she let a small gasp escape her as she took in the sight of the assembled crowd. So many of them, and so very many guns of every shape and size!!Even the children carried small brightly coloured sidearms. The area behind the crowd was filled with hundreds of armoured vehicles--one bore a bumpersticker "My Other Car is an M1A3".
A tall man approached the delegation.He wore a sidearm and carried an AR-15 casually in one hand. He extended the other to the Ambassador.
"Welcome to Twoamend." | 2021-05-02T21:05:03 | 2021-05-02T19:41:05 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] The end of times has come. Heaven, hell, and earth are thrown in a three-way war. It's a little unfair how advanced Earth is, though. | And so it came to pass, at the place where the last war was prophesized to begin--Megiddo, or Armageddon, as it was known in the tongues of the time. In the heart of the desert, a thousand, thousand leagues from life, the sweltering barren plains of cracked rock and swirling dust shook. All at once the tremor spread, churning the thirsty dirt and rock, forming gurgling fountains of earth everywhere, like the waters of a bubbling brook.
Then came a noise--a gutteral cry of primal rage; and then came the heat. Fumes of sulphur erupted amidst the sea of churning dirt, filling the enitre landscape with the sound of legions of wailing, tormented souls as they escaped each crevace. The air itself became death.
After the smoke, brimstone followed. Thick, radiant molten rock issued forth from the cracks and bled into the flat desert earth. Globs of magma gurgled, bubbled, and spat out into the surface, and for the third time, the landscape was again changed. Then the gushing rivers of flame and rock coalesced into great pools of heat and light.
It was then that the Prince of Darkness himself, Lucifer--first of the fallen and tormentor of the damned, the great beast and bringer of destruction, rose up from the lake of fire and surveyed the last battleground. No longer bound by the ancient treaties of subtle influence and deceptive guises, he stood upright in his true from, a great winged biped with a crown of horns and limbs edged with great talons. His face shone and shimmered like fire; in place of his eyes, only two dark holes where the light of his face fell into.
Heeding their master's example, legions of demons crawled out of the lake as well, their mangled and alien bodies wrigling and writhing, ecstatic in their newfound freedom, and rearing to tear the world asunder.
Above an outcropping of rock, a being of light, Gabriel, stood in splendor. Dressed with the raiment of God's divine authority, and blessed with power that even Lucifer himself had come to fear, the angel remained unfazed at what he saw. The gates of Hell were opened before him, yet in the very core of his being there was no apprehension, only the purest joy. Here it was, he thought, his purpose as was foretold even at the very beginning of the universe, about to be fulfilled. In the glory of the Lord he would finally destroy the devil. Not cast down, not subdue, not imprison, like he had done countless times before, but *destroy*.
The angel Gabriel took out his ancient horn and blew it, that the seals of Heaven might be opened. All at once, great shafts of celestial light tore through the clouds and bore down on the fiery landscape below. From on high the great choirs of Heaven sang--first in exaltation of the Lord, then as scores of angels and archangels descended in their heavenly raiment and weapons of light, the chorus became heavy, the theme, warlike.
The Grace of God upon him, Gabriel, shone brightly--brighter than all the other angels. As he raised up his mighty spear, five more wings sprung out near the orginal two; he had three on each side and one in the middle of his back, pointing to the sky. HIs face shone as his eyes melted and disappeared. Seven eyes of different colors suddenly materialized and formed a levitating circle around his face. By His Grace he had Become. It was time.
Just as he was about to give the signal to attack, four out of his seven eyes looked up into the sky, sensing movement. At first it was hard to spot, but the eyes the Lord had given him were the sharpest in existence. Above him there were faint streaks of white vapor--a few at first, then they steadily grew in number. He knew that what ever these curious spirits were, the point of their convergence was here, in Megiddo.
*It was natural after all,* he thought, *that the spirits of this world might be* *drawn to the doom of all things living. These spirits are surely not human, for* *the sky was the realm of the birds and the wisps and the spirits of the air.* *Admirable, nonetheless, that such minor beings would have the courage to* *participate in the end times. The same connot be said for man, apparently; not* *one soul could he feel for miles and miles. Maybe the Lord put too much faith* *in his flawed creations, maybe...*
His train of thought escaped him when he saw the objects hurtling toward them in full view. They were hundreds of great cylinders made of metal. Their faces were pointed, and behind them, great gouts of energetic flame pushed their considerable weights through the sky as a taut bow string pushed an arrow. He marveled at these creatures as they drew closer.
*Living beings made of metal? And flying? Truly, the Lord's designs are a* *wonder to behold! Praise--*
Before he could finish his last thought, the metal cylinders burst in the sky. From them came a blinding light such that no demon or angel had never seen before. In countless eons of service, Gabriel had never seen the face of God. As the great blast wave and the searing heat from the coordinated nuclear airstike reached him and tore at his garb, his flesh, his very being, he wondered--*Art thou God?*
| For ages we have been watching the cosmos. What is out there. WE looked through our telescopes, we sent out our drones and eventually we had manned expeditions. Each step we had the information that there was nothing out there. That our Earth was an anomaly but we persisted and we failed.
But our disappointment did not last for long.
Time travel has always been a popular subject especially for the young, hopeful minds who were going to use it to make a quick fortune. So quick they'd have the account in their name even before they were born. It was during this rush to solve The Equation first and be the next superpower of the world when It was discovered.
Alternate dimensions. Different realities. That which may be, that which could be. At first like the space initiatives we could only look into them but eventually we could send probes through. The readings were strange at first if we could get them back at all. For the two realities directly by our own it was either too hot or too cold. Nothing which could support life.
Or so we thought until we were sent something back from The Cold as we called it. A simple message, surprisingly, in our language. Every language on Earth. Even those extinct from long ago. Sentence on sentence which only said one thing. "Stop! Before it is too late!"
Unfortunately in comparison we were still a young race and we wanted to prove ourselves to these new beings so we continued. We should have known that something was up with the increase of religious nuts taking to the streets, television, the internet. Anything which can reach people really. As a civilization of science we thought nothing of it. Just people collectively expressing their insecurities as they have in the past before education stamped it out.
Boy were we wrong.
Our attempts to make the dimensional breaches became too effective and we ended up with two extremely large portals. One in the prep station for The Cold at the North Pole and another which after burning up the station at the Sahara Desert became a ever burning lake of fire. We didn't even have a day to study this new phenomenon. The legions were out as if they were already ready.
Thankfully having the stations at sites too extreme for human habitation meant that the legions would be unable to cause any damage to the civilians besides the possessions. Our study after the war concluded the breaches somehow sent out waves to take control of the minds of those unnaturally susceptible to it like the increasing religious. Some attacked civilians indiscriminately while others for some reason only known to them decided to attack those aggressors.
A pretty good tactic to weaken our defenses but fortunately those working on the breaches were organized enough to be diverted to fixing up a defense against it. At the same time the militaries of the world were trying to hold the physical legions back. At first they were caught off guard. Bright searing lights which would disintegrate a man. Streams of fire which would take out a platoon. The worst part of all were that these attacks could have come from anywhere.
Until General Blight, God bless his soul pointed out that the enemy forces only had what? Wings? Swords? Tridents? Claws? Sure they were horrifying to look at but they were primitive. Those that couldn't rely on wings had to move around by horses. Perhaps if this assault had happened a century or two ago it would have been effective but our civilization had advanced and gone past such things.
Not to mention, one of those monsters being riddled with bullets was effective enough to stop them.
Unfortunately it seemed like their forces were endless and we were locked into fighting on both fronts for months. It was taking a toll on our troops until, they just stopped coming out from the breach and there were no new reports of random attacks by civilians. We waited for another month or so before trying to get into the breach ourselves but with no success. The conditions were still too extreme for anyone to survive in them.
On the bright side though, we were able to find out that the quality of life for everyone is a lot more better now that we no longer have to put our attention to the fighting. Whether because of the breaches or the eradication of these aliens it looks like people are living a lot longer now. Aside from the casualties from the war, there have been no more reported deaths from anyone. Even teh sick and elderly.
It also seems like the war has put humanity into perspective as less people are looking to the usual distractions. Wasteful habits we label as vices and time consumers like organized religion. A good thing to be sure. With the study into alternate dimensions currently put on hold in case we actually face a force we wouldn't be able to hold out against until we are able to manufacture better defences the increased enlightened workforce is needed to look into the changes brought by these dimensional breaches. | 2015-09-24T09:39:39 | 2015-09-24T09:30:02 | 333 | 12 |
[WP] "Release the Kraken !" the masses chant at the castle's doors. You are the king and the people have spoken. Your hands are tied. You might have no choice but to release the monster used as a weapon back into wilderness. Those animal rights activists never give up, you have to give them that. | For centuries, we have been safe. The mob of people chanting for the release of the Kraken, our greatest defense, take that safety for granted. It was having the Kraken that got us to this point, this point where they say we don't need it anymore.
I had to admit that they weren't entirely wrong.
Having such a powerful creature at our command meant we could not be bullied but also could not be ignored. Safety meant we could build up our population, build our knowledge, spend resources on new ideas and inventions. We built cities, established trade routes, became respected allies as well as feared enemies for our technology and wealth. We perhaps don't need the Kraken anymore.
But that's not the point. That's not why we still have the Kraken. I had tried to explain the situation to the leading activists, but they simply didn't believe me. Well, some things are better done than said.
I stepped out onto the balcony - above where the mob was gathered - to make the announcement. It was a beautiful day - calm water, overcast sky, and a bit warm with a breeze. Perfect.
"Today, this 190th day of your protests, I will release the Kraken!"
The mob cheered. Well, mostly. Some angrily jeered at me. I couldn't make out what they said, but it apparently was funny. No matter. I gave the signal.
Everyone fell silent as the gate of the Kraken's cave rose. The giant grate quietly opened until it was just above the water line, water dripping from the bars.
Nothing. The crowd shifted, waiting. Coughs. Someone shouted, "Where is it?!" Then some rumbling, bits rising up to me about it being a trick.
I sighed and just continued watching. It was a perfect day after all.
A huge dark shadow shot out and the crowd gasped and yelled. The shadow came to a halt and then disappeared. A few people screamed.
I kept watching. Ah, there, a tentacle was slipping over the edge of a small boat someone had left in a slip by the market, even though - likely - they were here asking for the Kraken to be released.
The tentacle tightened around the boat, then picked it up and slammed it quickly against the water over and over, splashing the entire fish market and knocking the nearest booths over. The boat finally splintered and the tentacle dropped into the water, disappearing almost immediately. But then it rose up and felt its way across the market, sweeping booths and fish and a few unlucky people into the water.
Always so curious, I thought as I watched the people climbing out of the water, terrified of being eaten. The Kraken wasn't fond of eating people. Playing with them until they were broken into pieces, yes, but not eating them. It would usually only do that in the air though, not in the water. It just loved grabbing people on boats and swinging them around, throwing them as far as it could, or just pulling them apart.
Ah, there it goes, I thought, spotting an odd ripple of blue dart away towards the deep water.
I turned back to the people, "The Kraken inhabits the wild waters once again, no longer contained to the cave and its underwater tunnels. It goes! It comes! It does as it pleases! Your will has been done!"
With that, amid the chaos slowly erupting below, I exited and made my way to the chamber deepest in the castle. It was more of a cave than a room. Most of the castle was built into the rock than on it and it was built here specifically to house and guard this chamber.
The chamber was gigantic with a high domed ceiling, most of it filled with deep water. The only sound being the occasional drip of water from stalactites above and the water lapping the edges. The entrance from the castle led to a relatively small section of stone. The water's edge was lined with a short wall. Once, there had been iron bars planted in them as protection, but at some point it had been accepted that bars would not stop the Kraken if it chose to cross that line. It never did. Neither did I.
I lit the lanterns, checked that the baskets filled with prawns and clams were where they should be, and sat down on the stone bench, placing the usual blanket under me. Now, I had to wait.
My father told me that the original idea was to house boats here to keep them safe. But, then, a small injured Kraken had tried to steal fish from our ancestor. Rather than kill it, he had fed it. He liked its weirdness, as kids do. Taught it to trust him, even as he made sure to put in similar bars and learned that the Kraken's curiosity about new things was the thing most likely to get him killed. Introducing a new thing to the Kraken was a risky thing and there were specific rules on how to do that. It took many terrible accidents to make those rules, and those rules would not be broken without severe consequences. It was decades before the Kraken came to his rescue and it occurred to him that it could be more than a pet of sorts. His father introduced his son to the Kraken, which he did to his son and so on until here I was, a few years from introducing mine to it.
Really, if it were up to me, I would have released the Kraken on the first day the protesters showed up just to get it over with. But, there were rules to follow. The Kraken could leave whenever it wanted by just lifting the gate itself, but it knew the gate being raised meant it was supposed to go out and muck about. If we were being attacked, pretty much any mood it was in would work. But, if there wasn't an enemy to target, to lash out on, that could be a disaster.
A cranky Kraken will attack anything. A horny Kraken will pretty much do the same thing. Hungry? Could be easier to deal with in theory, but it never worked out that way from what the records say. It would have a tantrum and THEN go eat, thank you very much. And it preferred the night time for its recreational outings, so a daytime release - as the mob insisted on - could alone put it in a bad mood. No, it had to be the right day, the right mood, the right weather. A happy Kraken just needed some swim time, a bit of flinging stuff about for fun, and a good snack afterwards to settle down. Like a toddler, really, but with tentacles.
Now I just had to wait until I saw the familiar swell of water and flashing colors in the deep. Dump the prawns and clams into the feeding tunnel, see what random thing it brought back this time - last time, it brought me a dead dolphin and seemed rather proud of it - and maybe sing to it to settle it down. I'd know it was ready when its flashing was more white that not and slowly rippled across it. That meant it was happily sleepy and I could leave it alone for a couple of days to sleep. It would probably be up for a night time romp by then.
We really don't need the Kraken anymore. That's true. But, it had been so long since we had released the Kraken into the wild that the people apparently have forgotten that, every time, it could have stayed out in the wild. We don't recapture it, we don't trick it. It comes back because it likes being here; we make it happy. And we definitely want the Kraken to stay happy. God help us if the Kraken is no longer happy. | King Adonis held his silver staff poised above the gates to the ocean. Below, on every layered terrace, gathered a large chanting crowd. Amongst them, perched delicately and regal atop a marbled statue of the Great Protector was Iapetus, the King’s current source of nightly migraines.
“Release the Kraken!” Chanted the crowd in unison. Iapetus sat quietly but never tearing their gaze away from Adonis. Even from here Adonis could see their familiar startling green eyes. Their last conversation rang like bells in his ears.
*”You can’t keep her here, Adonis!”*
*”That’s KING Adonis to you now, Iapetus! And I refuse. She is the key to defending our kingdom. A gift from the gods-“*
*”She was our FRIEND, Adonis!” And he didn’t bother to correct them this time. “She’s not some gift- she came to us of her own will, cared for us as children, and you’d see her wrapped in chains-“*
*”And if you do not cease your treasonous tongue I’ll see the same done to you.”*
*Silence permeated his father’s throne room- His throne room now. The words felt like ash in his mouth but rage quelled any guilt he might’ve felt at seeing the shock and hurt appear in his best friend’s green eyes.*
*”You speak of protection...” Iapetus began along slowly, their voice soft but with a power behind it. “But what protection is it to attack defenseless coastal villages? To pillage Concord merchant ships? Tell me, King Adonis,” and for some reason hearing the title struck the breath from his lungs. “Is this truly protection? Or revenge for you father-“*
*”Be quiet!” Adonis hissed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about- You’re nothing but a lowly fisherman’s child. What could you know of the pressures and decisions I’m under-“*
*Those green eyes he loved so much grew hard at that. Iapetus appeared to grow as they pulled themselves up straighter, and despite their shorter stature Adonis suddenly felt dwarfed by his friend. “Very well, your highness. This lowly fisherman’s child will leave you to your darkness. I will leave and never return- You will never see me again.”*
*Adonis felt stricken then. He knew that look. Iapetus wasn’t playing coy. They meant every word they said. He felt the anger and fury wash from his bones, like a fleeting imprint in sand on the edge of the shore, and it left him tired. “You- You cannot leave, Iapetus. Where will you go?”*
*”Anywhere but here. Not unless you free her. Free her and I will stay by your side as the friend I have always been. But you cannot have us both. Make your decision now, Adonis.”*
*”I-“ His voice caught in his throat. No. This couldn’t be happening. He needed Helen to tear down the wretched Kingdom of Concord brick by brick, least they orphan his future heir as they did to him. But he had also never known a life without the warmth of Iapetus’s smile, or the bells of their lively laughter. There was no such laughter now. Only a grim look and an impossible choice. “I-I can’t-“*
*Iapetus looked resigned then. Grief clear in their eyes. “Then I shall make the decision for you. Farewell... My old friend.” And they turned and began to walk away.*
*”No!” Adonis shouted. “You cannot leave! I-I... I forbid it! You must listen to your king!” But Iapetus did not even flinch at his cries. “I’ll have you locked up! I’ll tie you down with chains- Gods damnit, Iapetus! Come back here now! You won’t leave me! I’ll have my soldiers hunt you down and drag you back kicking and screaming, I swear with all of Olympus as my witness!”*
*But the words were empty and they both knew that. No soldiers were rallied nor did he have his best friend chained up and locked away in an ivory tower like he so wanted to. Adonis could only stand there and watch as Iapetus turned away.*
But never did he imagine they’d meet again in such a way.
Adonis could’ve never known that Iapetus would spend the next two years preaching in the streets and rallying the people. And for all that the people of Burmese knew the wrath of Concord and hated them for it, many more emphasized with the memory of slavery and captivity at the hands of their enemies. Iapetus was always a popular figure- Peasant friend of the Burmese Prince. The voice of the people.
And now those powers were turned on him. With such a large show there was no way he could refuse. Iapetus only watched him patiently.
With a sharp rap of his silver scepter, King Adonis released the Kraken.
The gates creaked and shuddered as they rose from the water and, from the dark depths below the castle, something slithered through the murky waters. And suddenly, a tentacle breached the surface catching the glint of the afternoon sunlight. Her once golden flesh was dulled from years in captivity. Bruises and scars could be seen from where metal shackled her to his cause, and Adonis felt bile gather at the back of his throat. Helen had protected them as children and he repaid her with this... And even now, if he had a choice, he knew he’d just as quickly see her back in chains for another conquest.
The pale tentacle rose slowly and, to the amazement of the hushed crowd, reached out for Iapetus where they were seated. They smiled at the sight of the Helen and reached out a hand to caress her. Adonis watched as tears began steaming down Iapetus’s face. They said something he could not hear and slowly parted from their once friend and beastly caretaker.
Helen retracted the appendage and hovered for a moment beneath the surface of the cove. And then, with great speed, she was off into the ocean and possibly never to be seen again.
And when Adonis turned to search the Great Protector statue, Iapetus was nowhere to be found.
For the first time in years, despite being surrounded by a cheering crowd congratulating their King for his mercy and kindness, Adonis was truly alone. | 2020-08-28T09:39:36 | 2020-08-28T09:20:14 | 33 | 22 |
[WP] You are in love with the monster under your bed | There was an odd stillness in the room. The type that only happened when people were trying to be quiet. If there had been actual silence there wouldn't have been my steady breathing, I wouldn't have been forcing my eyes shut.
I'd turned off the lights, and closed the door, everything I needed to do to pretend I was asleep. See, I was waiting for someone, the person who slept beside me. Well, she slept under me but I slept on my side so it worked out in the end. She had to think I was asleep, and I needed to be awake.
There was a hiss as she pulled herself from under the bed, a sharp crackle as her talons slashed the stands. I could hear her shallow breathing as she poised herself over me, her wings fluttering ever so slightly. She never could keep them quiet still. I could hear her say "What the fuck Aidan, get up."
"What what what," I said as sleepy as I could be.
"You're going to get me fired."
"I was asleep!" I lied.
"Yeah, totally, that's why you smiled."
"Good dream," I lied again.
"About me?" she asked. It wasn't really a question, the she was sliding off of the bed and onto the hardwood of my bedroom floor. She stretched.
"Yeah," I answered.
"You're gonna have to stop lying at some point."
"I'll avoid it."
"Not how this works," she said, "how the hell have you managed to-" she stopped herself, "whatever."
She was in one of her moods, she had been for about a month. I'd first seen Mona when I was a kid, her pale skin and inhuman features ready to strike at me. She was supposed to make me nervous, but showing herself had been a big fuckup.
You see, usually monsters spent a few years with a kid and then moved on once they stopped believing. Me? I'd seen her and so...well, yeah. I wasn't going to stop believing in her any time soon, and we were in my university dorm at this point.
"God can you just be asleep for once?" she asked.
"No, I wanna talk to you," I protested, "keeps me calm."
"That just means I'm a freaking failure of a monster," she huffed. I had been downplaying how good things were when I said she kept me calm. I kinda had a thing for her, and I'd tried to tell her through strategically placed google searches left on my bed. She'd been somewhat receptive when we were younger, but sometimes she just decided that she wanted to move to a different bed, and I couldn't offer her that.
"No nono, I'm the weird one," I said, she nodded along and it hurt a little.
"So I'm never going to move on?" she asked.
"Not until I die," I said.
"And I thought the boys down there were bad," she hissed. She'd been in the mood too long, I knew that tonight wasn't the night to ask her if she wanted to stay for longer, so I laid back down.
"Night," I said.
"Night," she matched before slithering back under the bed.
The next day I went and bought flowers in a stupid move, but what was I supposed to do? It was valentines day, and I was a romantic.
I made sure to actually be asleep with the flowers on top of me, and the chocolates at the side of the bed. The last thought I had before I went to sleep was 'Here goes nothing.'
| I laid completely still in bed, my eyes closed. He only came out if he thought I was asleep. I evened the timing of each of my breaths to a long, slow rhythm. Then I heard him creak from below. My heart rate increased about ten times. His hand had come up on the other side of the bed, slightly scratching the surface, making just enough noise that someone outside might think I was just turning in bed.
I opened my eyes ever so slightly. Just enough that he might think they were still closed. I saw him. His long, luscious, black hair streaming from every orifice on his body. His beautiful, hollow, yellow eyes that I got lost in every time I looked at him. His nose, crooked at a ninety-degree angle.
He started climbing up onto the bed and my heart raced, aching to burst out of my chest. I was so nervous I started to sweat. His claws dragged on the top of my blanket as he made his way over to my face. His breathing was hoarse and raspy, like the sound of a new car turning on. His natural musk would have been strong enough to knock someone else out, but I had been into the swamp often enough not to let his fragrance affect me.
He had made it to my face and it took all my energy not to smile. He turned his head, slowly, studying me. His eyes pierced into my soul.
I opened my eyes and gasped in horror. He smirked, his massive hair bristled with delight at the sight of my face. It was routine. He graced me with his presence nightly, and I would scream until he scampered below. But not tonight.
I let the smile break onto my face and said,
"Hi."
He immediately recoiled and jumped to the end of the bed, his face twisted with disgust.
"Ew, his that a smile?" his gravelly voice asked, revolted.
"I'm sorry, I ju--"
"Apologizing?" he gagged a little. "This is disgusting."
"But then how to I show my umm... my *fondness* for you?"
"Fondness? My God, I have been barking up the wrong tree," he said, climbing back below the bed. "And to think I had a thing for you."
"No!" I screamed, "Wait, please!" I dove off my bed and checked the floor, but he had already disappeared.
He was gone. I could only nightmare about what could have been. | 2016-06-22T18:26:19 | 2016-06-22T18:10:30 | 32 | 22 |
[WP] As it turns out, humans are not the generic, good guy, center of the galaxy type species. Humans are a specialist species, and the rest of the galaxy only cares about one thing when it comes to humanity. Our explosives. | "You can't expect us to pay this much for bombs!"
"Listen noodle face, I studied my ass for for years to perfect my bomb making. I'm a chemical engineer and-"
"I don't care!" Noodle face hissed "only a Pyromancer can expect to be paid this much and I won't."
"I am a Pyromancer with a degree, calamari man. Take it or leave it, I have more people willing to pay."
His blue tentacles curled around what the Pyromancer assumed was his mouth.
"You...you're one of them? But you're so small!"
"Because I am female" she tried very hard not to roll her eyes.
"Do you have the infamous Heart Rate Trigger of your kind?" He asked gingerly.
She lifted her sleeve, revealing the implanted monitor that would detonate if her heart should stop, killing everyone else in the immediate vicinity. It was a powerful bargaining chip when dealing with criminals and allowed her to work alone.
Noodle face stepped back, wringing his hand-appendages.
"I will pay."
"Great." She pulled out her electronic money device to complete the transfer. "Next time I don't expect an argument. I charge a very fair price for my quality and I don't have time for disrespect."
"Yes, yes." He mumbles, transferring the large sum of money from his device to hers.
She smiled, turned on her heal and left, scattering the tentacle warlord's entourage. They knew to get out of the way of danger.
If she experienced resistance during their next meeting, she would kill them. Just thinking about the explosion, the wave it would make in the atmosphere while it's blue plume rose up into the sky and turned black got her excited. She would be far away from it, but close enough to see it.
Pyromancers were notorious for killing or maiming those who had disrespected them for many Pyromancers had been taken advantage of in the past. Boundaries had to be put in place with the intergalactic mob.
Pyromania was a dangerous affliction, but damn, was it profitable. | “These humans,” said Aedyn. “They have an expression. ‘Easy as taking candy from a baby.’ How ironic.” Aedyn’s purple skin wrinkled around his mouth from trying to hide a smirk.
“How did these undeserving humans acquire such an abundance of radioactive isotopes?” Uh’ylh asked. “How much more do they have?”
“They have more than enough for us to fuel our entire fleet for a year. The problem is these humans see their nuclear resource as a weapon, and whoever has the biggest weapon has the most power, so our trades need to be discreet.”
“Ha!” boomed Uh’ylh’s voice, filling up the entire spaceship cabin. “They’re so busy fighting among themselves they don’t even realize how much they could accomplish if they worked together. Even better for us!”
Aedyn couldn’t agree more. “We will continue trade with the humans. We just have to make sure not to let them think we want their ‘explosives’ while we use it for fuel. In the meantime, make sure our nuclear reactors are set to have gold as a byproduct. I honestly don’t see why humans think it’s so valuable.” | 2018-07-16T01:34:08 | 2018-07-15T22:57:34 | 100 | 64 |
[WP] After realizing you are in a work of fiction, you immediately rush to the person you think is the protagonist in an attempt to get plot armor as their best friend. But when the "protagonist" dies, you realize you may not have thought this completely through. | Okay, so maybe I hung with the wrong dude. How did my best friend just get fucking merked by some loser who literally thought he was some chosen samurai-demigod?
Ok so get this. I roll into class (med-school at STANFORD, okay? Get at me) and this dude invites me to sit with him and some of his friends. They're all attractive human beings, and the major cluster of people in the room. Clearly they're the popular people. Dude introduces himself as Gialon Atherton, and his friend next to him blurts out that Gialon is supposedly THE dude. He's gonna be the one that does the thing or some shit like that. I wasn't paying much attention because Gialon was talking over him to me. Seems like a cool guy, and if I become friends with a group like this, I firmly believe my time in college would be incredible.
So we all hang out a bunch, and sometimes just Gialon and I will go do something like just hang at the CVS in the Village shopping center just outside the entrance on, like, the opposite end of campus at 3am. It's surprisingly fun. The Author has blessed me with classes in the afternoon only, which is AWESOME.
Time passes, graduation happens, and he, I, and all his friends decide to start a company to just research cures for diseases and shit. Goes well, we decide to start focusing on doing cool shit with genetics. We try and figure out how to put really cool features onto different animals, like a deer with a chameleon's camouflage, or a lion with a rhino's horn. Stuff like that.
Then the media starts screwing us. Saying we're immoral. So we try to advance evolution in humans to make humans more resistant to things like ultra-violet light damage in an effort to curve skin cancer rates. Then this random dude just rolls into our office acting like some dude from the dark ages and fucking challenges Gialon to a fight by, get this, saying something like "YOUR TIME OF PLAYING GOD IS NOW OVER. YOU MUST STOP THIS OPERATION IMMEDIATELY. IF YOU DO NOT, I AM FORCED TO CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL." A duel? Who the fuck calls it a duel anymore? Whatever. Dude looks like a bum who's been sitting on the side of the road the past month, and Gialon lifts every day. We tell him to fuck off, but the next day we get a report that some of the guards in the west wing aren't reporting.
I decide to go over and check, and when I get there, the guards are knocked out on the floor. Oh, did I not mention our facility turned into something like the Pym (I don't really follow nerd movies) facility from Ant-Man? Anyway, I don't find the guy. Must be crawling through the vents or some shit.
I go back to the main researching area, only to find the glass doors locked, and the dude is there facing Gialon. Dude says his name is David, and he's here to topple Gialon, who he believes is a disgrace any God, whether they exist or not, and that he's here to "topple the giant". What a self-righteous nerd. Then he pulls out a fucking katana and swings it around trying to be all cool like the "wanna see my moves?" guy on the Internet from like, the early 2000 or some shit. Then Gialon does the weirdest shit. He extends his arms like wolverine, and out come fucking claws. What the fuck, Gialon? No protagonist does that shit to himself.
So they end up fighting, and I'm sure Gialon can kill the loser-neckbeard, all while trying to open the door and pondering the situation at hand. Then I figure it out and lose all hope. Move some letters around with Gialon Atherton and you get Goliath with a leftover n a e r t o n. I don't really care what those can spell out, but if I remember correctly from my parents, David kills the giant Goliath. FUCK.
Looks like I'm the bad guy's sidekick. At least I have at least tree-fiddy million dollars in my bank account. I'll just leave like Starscream in one of the Transformers movies.
____________________________________________
EDIT: Trying out writing, so apologies if it's not that good. I've pulled a B+/B- average in English throughout my school years so far. Hope you enjoyed, though I'd be surprised if you did! Let me know if you would like to see more or less of me in this subreddit! | Thick whites crags stretched far ahead, craning over a large gulf. I shook my head vigorously, only to collapse and dry wretch from the throbbing pain that drove from skull to neck. My mouth scratched itself like sandpaper, and in swallowing I had the sensation of choking on air. I pushed myself up, drying needles from the landscape's prickly green brush scratching my hands terribly. I wasn't in Kansas anymore.
I imagined this is what amnesia felt like. That I *knew* what amnesia was suggested some sort of concrete past. With no better option, I trudged forward, keeping the ocean to my left. My legs screamed with every step, sending spasms of agony through my pelvis and into my chest. Had I not been so distracted, I would not have been caught unawares.
I heard them before I saw them. It began as a low, tinny rumbling and then graduating to a pounding crescendo as the first soldier appeared from around the ridge. Even at distance, the noonday sun reflected sharply off his bronze shield and tip of his spear, which stood taller than him. Dozens of columns followed in tow, each man marching in precise formation.
For a moment, I considered hiding. It may have been possible to tuck and cover in the surrounding shrubbery, but I was in as much danger from the elements and my own body's neglect than the tip of a spear. So I stood with my hands hanging loosely at my sides, as motionless and docile as I could bear. An eternity passed and as the thundering grew closer and the ground shook, I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer. *Who was I praying to?* The pounding ceased abruptly. I opened my eyes and found myself staring at a golden demon.
He was wearing a bronze mask that covered his face entirely, and though I could not see his eyes, I felt them boring into me. He was easily half a foot shorter than me, though his presence sent shivers down my spine. *This was a man born to lead*, I thought. We must have stood at odds for several minutes, though to this day, I remember it as the longest moment of my life.
He spoke in Greek, and I understood it. Another small piece of the puzzle, it seemed. "Are you a citizen?" he asked, his tone suggesting a genuine bemusement at the ragged giant in front of him. I caught my tongue, choking on it several times before murmuring a response, also in Greek. "I am lost. I do not remember," I said.
The soldier's posture visible relaxed. That we spoke the same language had been enough to assuage him. "You should go back," he said, pointing past the columns of men. "We will do battle here. It is not for you." I felt surprised at my panic. A second ago, I had been quite ready to find my own way, though now I dared not abandon the only safety in sight. "Please," I replied, dropping to my knees, "I have nowhere to go."
He must have heard desperation in my voice, as within a moment I had been given a hunk of dark bread, a wedge of hardened cheese, and found myself marching awkwardly beside the general, his army shaking the ground behind me. Within several hours we stopped. The road had narrowed to almost an impasse, with the columns having switched to only three men a breast to fit through. "Where are we?" I emboldened to ask.
"This is Thermopylae," the general replied. "We fight here." | 2016-09-05T11:31:48 | 2016-09-05T10:50:48 | 32 | 14 |
[WP] You're tripping on a new drug dubbed "Memory lane." It allows you to relive anything that has ever happened in your life with 100% clarity. The only catch is that the memory is random.
Good or bad trip. Your choice.
Thanks for the responses guys, I of course had to take a crack at it as well (be gentle it's my first try) | I ring the doorbell and my friend Amanda answers, she's smiling and her eyes are glossy and red. When I ask if she's been smoking weed she simply says "better..." and walks back in leaving the door open. Immediately to my left as I walk in is a ring of people all on the floor of the living room in various stages of tripping on whatever drug they were on, some looking around nervously whilst others laid flat on the ground with big dumb grins on their faces. I look around as Amanda re-enters the room with a coffee pot full of wafer like tabs, on them are the words "Memory lane". I look into my friends eyes with an eyebrow raised, she smiled wider "it works! I totally relived my trip to Cancun earlier, its amazing!" her eyes widened on amazing in an intense way that made me feel slightly uncomfortable. As I walk over to a space in the ring of people and sit down the world shifts angle and stays that way, I try and tilt my head to level it out and I can hear Amanda laughing in the distance and my vision fades. Did I already take it?
The waves rush in and drag out in a soothing, natural rhythm and I hear panting beside me. I sit up and lo and behold rover my childhood dog is looking playfully at me, wagging his tail and licking my hand as I reach out to pet him. This is brilliant. But then the screams come, I casually turn round to see a girl no more than 8 tied and gagged to a large tree trunk washed onto the deserted section of the beach, I went to as a kid with my dad. She's looking right at me, I recognise her as Rebecca from primary school. What the fuck. I seem to be twisting something in my right hand and I look down to view a large screwdriver just like the one's my dad used on our garden fence. I stand up and calm Rover so he stays back and begin to walk down the beach towards Rebecca with the screwdriver raised, she's kicking her legs trying to wriggle free. Muffled screams are what I hear as I begin to see a patterned carpet fade back into view and the sounds of waves be replaced by low reggae and stillness. Amanda's looking at me expectantly, "Well?" she prompts. "uhuuh good-great it was good thanks" I manage, her smile droops and she seems concerned "you okay? your sweating, like a lot". I look down, she was right I was soaked, jesus that was awful..."I thought these were memories mandy?" I query as calmly as I can. She seemed offended by the question but before she could protest a lanky, dark haired guy in glasses seemed to of woken up and butted in "the drug is very potent, it allows your brain to show you what it knows even if you no longer know it consciously, japanese scientists are already trying to focus the drug to help in fact retention excersises such as exams and-" "OK thanks Milton" Amanda interjected giving me a discreet look suggesting Milton was a nerd. Did that really happen? I need to know. "Mandy I gotta shoot off, but can I get some more of that for the road?" it seemed rude so I begun reaching into my wallet. "Of course, I thought you didn't like it! but you can make it up to me with dinner on saturday?". My god even with the possibility of murder on my hands, I still hesitate to agree, our last "date" was a awkward affair at a bowling alley...3 years ago. "OK" I say and force a smile. She gives me a playing cards box with at least 20 inside, I walk outside, its dark. "how long was I tripping for?" I inquire. She chuckles "3-4 hours honey". I cringe at the use of 'honey'. I get into my car and make it round the corner before I pull over and take another.
Note: [not sure if this is as fun to read as it was to write. If anyone is interested I can add more parts tomorrow after work.] | [I love this writing promt]
Although the drug is FDA approved and I'm lying down in my therapist's office, I cannot help but think to myself that this must be the sketchiest thing I've done since all that acid in college. Whatever, if it'll help me sleep. I close my eyes and lay down on my stomach. Seconds after Dr. Fuckface Paidtomuch applies the patch to the back of my neck the drug takes hold.
There's a flash of colors which reminds me that this might have been a bad idea. I wonder for the streched millisecond if I'll be coherent as an observor throughout this entire ordeal. Then I'm looking through my eyes again, except about four inches lower than I usually do.
I'm sitting on the bench inside my highschool. I've got a boy on each side of me and their malevolence is seething off of them like my body odor off of me. I should have learned to use deodorant much earlier. A teacher walks past us and asks simply. "Everything's all right over here?"
"Yes Mr. Smith, not a problem" I say. He knows I'm lying but I guess he trusts my judgement. I wish he hadn't but looking back, it didn't matter. He walks out the double doors into the parking lot.
"You know what you did man. Let's go".
Earlier that week the long haired boy had cornered me in the hallway and let loose a fury of swear words and threats. *WHAT'D I EVER DO TO YOU? YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD MAN.* I know his girlfriend from Mr. Goodin's geometry, and she sure is a fucking looker. Hilarious too. She aludes that she has a boyfriend, and I simply don't care. We're hanging out all the time, getting to know eachother. Eventually we smooch, and here I am.
She had mentioned at least once what a controlling bastard this guy was. Mark.
The other guy was just a wingman. Displacing his teen angst.
Minutes later on the bike path Mark throws the first punch, and I deftly move out of the way. I'm much bigger than these fellas, genetically superior one might say. Also at the time, I'm a fairly devout pacifist. Can't dodge em forever though, and he catchs me in the chest. *Is this it? Woah man*
Ten minutes later they ask if I'd had enough. I'm a quick walk from my house and I decided I had.
Those guys were pansies. Softer than downy ducklings. I'm real glad I didn't hit them back. Later that year I'd recall the amount of play that fight had earned me. Myself and his now ex-girlfriend would be fooling around for a long time. Poor guy, did himself in...
---
Back in the office I jolted awake and promptly told my Dr. Uselessprescription about my experience. None of it had anything to do with my dead daughter or the constant BAC that I've learned to keep above zero. It was a fond memory though, so I decided I'd come back next week. | 2014-09-04T14:43:58 | 2014-09-04T14:28:20 | 45 | 22 |
[WP] An inexperienced yet very bright lawyer gets his/her first case....against the President of the United States. | (*President Barack Obama sits smugly next to his lawyer, Barry. The two chat amiably about the case, with Obama stopping occasionally to wink at jurors.*)
**Obama:** Now...Barry, I just wanted to say, on behalf of myself and this great nation, you got this.
**Barry:** Absolutely, and after this we can discuss that diplomatic immunity thing?
**Obama:** Yeah, for sure.
**Barry:** It's just I really need some sort of certainty on that whole situation or I am going to be in some very hot water with some very shot-up police officers, if you know what I mean.
**Obama:** You win this case for me and *poof* those shootings were a dog's fault. That's change you can believe in.
**Barry:** Thank you, thank you. I cannot go to prison again.
(*Barry wipes his sweaty brow in the inside of his sleeve. It leaves behind a residue of sweat and blood. He walks back to his seat, leaving Obama in the witness box.*)
**Judge:** Recess over. Ms. Iate, I believe it is your turn to question the defendant.
(*Ms. Paula Iate stands up and walks over to President Barack Obama. Obama, meanwhile, winks at Barry, while making gun gestures and laughing.*)
**Iate:** Mr. President, I understand you have already been made aware of the charges against you. Is that correct?
**Obama:** Those charges are something that I, and everyone in this courtroom have been made aware of. I never want to lie to the people of this great nation, to the people of America, and least of all to this, honest, hard-working, jury. Because I belie-
**Iate:** Thank you, Mr. Obama. A simple yes or no would have been sufficient.
(*The juror Obama was smiling at scowls at Iate, shaking her head profusely.*)
**Iate:** So, you are aware of the six hundred and seven unpaid parking tickets you have?
**Obama:** Yes, and I would like to make it clear to you, to the judge, and to juror number seven, that most of those were only because I was not made aware of the traffic laws regarding parking in certain parts of the city.
**Iate:** Mr. President, as a former lawyer, I expect that you know that ignorance does not excuse these unpaid tickets.
**Obama:** Ms. Iate, I believe in a nation in which people are afforded the chance to learn. I believe in a nation in which mistakes are not punished, but seen as opportunities for education. I believe-
**Iate:** Mr. Obama, I don't know if you brought your speech writer here today or something, but you are not-
**Juror number seven:** Boo!
**Iate:** Come on, that is not impartial! Can we get her out of here?
**Judge:** Bailiff, please escort juror number seven out of the courtroom.
(*Juror number seven is reluctantly taken out of the courtroom. Iate continues her questioning.*)
**Iate:** I'm going to keep this next question as concise as the answer I expect you to give me. Why have you left these tickets unpaid, Mr. President?
**Obama:** Well, I mean, they're just parking tickets. Paying them just puts the money back in my pocket, that's simple taxation for you, Ms. Iate.
**Iate:** So, you exempted yourself from the laws of this country, that you claim to love, because you see your position as exceptional?
(*The jurors look to Obama expectantly. Barry shakes his head. Juror number seven looks through the window into the courtroom.*)
**Obama:** That is correct, but I'd like to remind everyone in this courtroom that we are all exceptional. That's the way America works. There's a reason that countries around the world look to us, because they know that America is something special. The America that you're a part of, the America that I'm a part of, the America we make together, is special.
**Iate:** Wow, that is really...bullshit.
**Judge:** Ms. Iate...
**Iate:** Permission to treat the witness as hostile?
**Judge:** Reluctantly granted.
**Iate:** Mr. President, how much do you make a year?
**Obama:** I am told that I am paid one million dollars per year.
**Iate:** And how much do you owe in parking tickets?
(*Barry gestures for Obama to cut it, by dragging his finger over his throat.*)
**Obama:** My lawyer is telling me that I owe cut throat in tickets.
**Iate:** You owe ten thousand dollars in parking tickets.
**Obama:** Barry! You lied to me!
(*Barry shakes his head. He is sweating profusely.*)
**Iate:** You have yet to pay these tickets because you consider yourself exempt? Do you believe you are above the law, Mr. President?
**Obama:** Well, you can't ask me that, that's personal. Barry, can she ask me that?
**Iate:** Mr. President?
(*Barry is crying.*)
**Obama:** I'm still waiting for Barry.
**Barry:** Jesus, it's over, just answer her!
**Obama:** Barry! I thought you had this!
**Iate:** Mr. President, *do you see yourself as above the law?*
**Obama:** I see myself as needing a new lawyer.
**Barry:** My client now pleads guilty and I request a meeting with the judge during recess.
**Iate:** What?
**Barry:** You know what? He will pay those tickets tonight. Judge Stevens, your chambers, now.
**Obama:** What?
**Judge:** Order! Order! We will take a fifteen minute recess to sort out this ass-hattery and reconvene. Ms. Iate, the defendant is still yours when we return.
END SCENE
| New writer, first WP, some CC would be extremely welcome :)
------------
“Are you up for this Andrew?”
“Doesn’t look like I have a lot of choice”, Andrew responded. “Got to admit though James, that I was hoping for a nice simple first case, you know… DUI, maybe a domestic case of some kind, you know the sort of thing?”
“Yeah well looks like you drew the short straw on this one”, James muttered, pursing his lips. “Still if you can pull it off…” His voice trailed off as he considered the possibilities.
“What, the FBI will put a hit out on me? I’ll have to flee the country like some common criminal?” Andrew grinned. “Who knows, maybe you could claim the reward money!”
“Ahh, I knew there was a silver lining somewhere.” Despite the humorous tone James replied with, his eyes remained serious and focused. “With the media attention this case has generated, all joking aside I expect - well, I hope - everything will be above board. Even the President of the United States needs to be careful with constitutional challenges and while I expect he would be, uh, disappointed if you defeat his team in this case I would hope it would simply help ensure your career as a high-flyer. The political fallout of a defeat for the President in this case however, it boggles the mind to even think of it.”.
“Thank you for reminding me of the stakes James, it really does calm the nerves.” Andrew rolled his eyes. “Do you think we could do something useful - such as going over the preliminary arguments once more so I might be at least marginally ready for this?”
“Of course - sorry” said James quickly. He reached down to pick up his briefcase, which was lying flat on the floor next to the comfortable sofa they were both sitting on and began rifling through the papers inside.
“OK, uh, so the President's proposal is here” James laid down the single piece of paper onto the small coffee table in front of them, shifting his untouched espresso out of the way. “In short, he proposes a complete restriction on the sale and ownership of concealable weapons - handguns mostly, unless you meet the requirements and exceptions noted here”. He dropped a thick file onto the table.
“This requires a change to the constitution, naturally.” James continued. “A summary of our position as representatives of the opposition to this is that the President does not have the authority without Congress approval to make the change to the constitution, and as you know Congress has been deadlocked on this decision for two years since the New London incident.”
“We have other arguments available as a followup, detailed here” James dropped another, even thicker file onto the coffee table, “Which we can review again during session intermissions as you require them. The Presidents position on Congress-” James stopped as a brief knock on the door interrupted him.
“Come in” called Andrew, and a tall, slender woman stepped into the private executive meeting room.
“The court convenes in 5 minutes Mr Johnson” The woman said in a thick Scottish accent, her eyes fixed pointedly on Andrew. “Also, I have a message from Mr Wilson, he apologies for the situation and wishes you good luck.”
“Thank you Mrs Armstrong.” Andrew replied, his initial smile of welcome wavering as he considered the courtroom awaiting him. “If you could please relay to Mr Wilson that both myself and Mr Harding hope the best for his wife and new child”. James jerked his head quickly in agreement.
Mrs Armstrong nodded curtly and left the room, closing the door silently behind her.
“Some timing that kid has” James muttered. “And with Rufus in New Zealand on that copyright case as well. It’s a damn good thing Alex decided to bring you along for this one, otherwise if his kid had popped out and you hadn’t been briefed, we would have been royally screwed”.
“Well..” Andrew breathed deeply for a moment. “Well, regardless I expect we should be going. It’s a few minutes walk to the courtroom. Remind me, who is the lawyer representing the Presidents case?”
“Mary Lawson” James replied instantly. “35 years experience with 10 years of arguing cases like this one in the Supreme Court. Her legal administrative assistant is new though, Robert Canterbury, only just fresh out of law school like yourself, but he didn’t finish top of his year.”
“Ah well at least there we have them beat” said Andrew, smiling weakly at James whose 10 year tenure as an legal administrator at Wilson and Partners they had celebrated only days before. “I expect with your experience we shall wipe the floor with them!” But his voice held an undercurrent of nervousness that betrayed his true feelings.
James did not respond, but reached forward and started shuffling the papers back into the briefcase. “Are you ready?” he asked, as he snapped the clips on the briefcase shut.
Andrew nodded, stood up and moved with careful deliberation towards the door.
| 2013-11-07T18:24:05 | 2013-11-07T18:19:51 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] You died and awoke in the afterlife. It's quite nice actually. The people and atmosphere are a lot nicer than you are used to and there is no stress or pressure. When you ask what good deed got you into heaven you are informed that this is hell, followed by a visit from a very concerned demon.
Edit: Wow, this got a lot more attention than I expected. | "Come again?" I thought I misheard her, and that maybe the blaring house music made me miss a few words.
The bartender coyly smirks at me, and the music fades out a little. "Yeah. Heaven doesn't exist, dude. The Creator 'left for cigarettes' a *long* time ago and nobody's been able to find Him. Real dick move, to be honest with you."
Shell-shocked, I jump to a conclusion. "So then this must be..."
"Hell? Technically speaking, yes. More lively than you were expecting?"
"Is this a Sartre situation, where we can't leave this club, and everybody is going to drive each other insane?"
"Oh, he's actually a regular here. Ms. DeBeauvoir is too. They're a hoot and a half. But no, you can leave any time you want, there's a whole city out there. You don't need to work to survive, but a lot of people eventually get a job anyway."
"B-but isn't there supposed to be punishment?"
"We don't do the whole 'incarceration' or 'torture' thing anymore. We did it to the real heinous ones, but it turns out that we didn't even need to. Most of them either end up isolating themselves with other evil fucks or making a sincere attempt to start over and do right by other people. The first one is definitely more common."
"I see."
"You don't have to worry about any of this for right now. Just have a good time here in The Four Winds, and if you want a room, we have them upstairs."
I blinked. "Wait, why would need to sleep if we're dead?"
She winked. "Who said anything about sleep, kiddo? And before you ask: You're not my type."
"You're really..."
"*That* Sappho, yeah. Did you think my nametag was a joke or something?"
"Well, yeah. You don't exactly look like you died millenia ago, and you don't talk like it either."
"What can I say, it's been a while since a 'lesbian' was just somebody from my hometown. Now, you want that whiskey sour or not?" | The Demon looked some what as how I was told they would look. Horns, sharp teeth, cloven hooves with hairy goat legs. Though this one was wearing a button-up white shirt with a blue blazer. He had blue eyes, unlike the dead black ones. I was told demons have. His eyes looked tired, and his black hair, which looked soft and curley, was dishevelled.
" Hi there... My name is Tobias B Demon... you can call me Toby if you like." he held out a clawed hand and not wanting to piss off a Demon. I shook it. His hand felt so much softer than I thought. He begins talking again " as you have been informed this is Hell" I look around shocked " really...I thought it would be more...fire and brimstone" Toby sighs " thats just a lie spread around by those winged assholes up there in the clouds and their followers down on earth. No, we do things very differently here... we punish only those who can never be forgiven. " I look at him confused." Those who can not be forgiven?" Tobias pulls a small clock out of his pocket." I'll explain later.. right now, we better go and get the paperwork started. Please follow me. | 2022-12-26T19:51:39 | 2022-12-26T17:39:01 | 24 | 10 |
[WP]You discover a library with a biography for everyone on Earth. While reading yours, you notice that when someone else is mentioned, there’s a note showing where you can find their biography. It’s odd how someone who was a sentence in your book has a whole chapter for you. | I couldn't believe it at first. I didn't recognize the name, barely remembered the store, and everything I could remember about that city and even that whole year was . . . not very pleasant for me. I checked his biography anyway, the note said I saved his life. I knew my version of the events: "feeling the effects of a long deployment, and trapped in a depressed state, Melia went to the store for something that would ease the emptiness. It was her birthday, and there was no one around she could celebrate with. Family far away, pseudo military friends stationed elsewhere or deployed. On her way to check out with an ice cream pie and a fanta soda, musing about the irony of not drinking on her 21st birthday, she sae a guy who was looking at the liquor cabinet like it was the devil himself. 'Hey buddy, ya know I'm pretty sure they don't bite.' The guy chuckled a bit, 'nah, they don't bite. Just wreck your whole life.' 'Well, why don't you just get a soda and some pie? They don't have much of a reputation for fucking things over.' She smiled as he actually looked at her, holding her pie and soda. 'You know, I think I will.' He walked away, towards the frozen section." That's what it was for me. A brief, meaningless encounter, where I didn't actually *do* anything. Just smiled and made a couple of stupid jokes. And then I forgot that the whole the thing ever happened. His book had a different version of it: "Out of booze, Dan stumbled to the store to try to get more. That was the convinent thing about living on base, he didn't have to drive to get more booze. He'd only been back a week. Dan had gone to his best friends funerals, wishing that it had been him and not them being buried with honor. He couldn't face his family, and his wife hadn't called him since he'd been back. But he didn't blame her, after all if he'd been a better soldier then she wouldn't have needed to comfort her two best friends who were now widows. If he'd been a better soldier then he could have saved his friends. If he were a better man then he wouldn't need the alcohol just to sleep at night. While staring at the cabinet, trying to find the cheapest booze, a young woman cracked a forced joke at him. His depression responded, but she didn't give up. When he looked at her she wasn't looking at him with disgust or even pity. She was smiling, and she seemed to actually care about him in some way. So Dan decided that pie and a soda couldn't hurt.
"Two months later he returned to his house. 'Honey, I needed to tell you something. That's why I came.' She just stared at him, hatred, guilt, and pity burning in her eyes. I'm sorry that I've been out of touch. I just couldn't face you, I got them killed and put your friends through hell. But, I'm in therapy now. I haven't had a drink in a couple months. I can't come home yet, but when I'm better it will be up to you if I can come back or not."
I flipped ahead, desperate to know what happened to Dan. He stayed with therapy, even though at time he thought that it wasn't worth it. He stayed clean, and managed to get back together with his wife. He was active in his child's life. All because I quipped a couple of bad jokes at him, and smiled. I saved Dan's life, and didn't even remember him and never even knew his name. As I put Dan's book back, something a friend once said echoed in my head "I could never kill myself, not really because of the people who would get left behind, but because of those I wouldn't be able to help anymore. I don't know how many people I've helped just by being here and smiling at them." | RICHARD STORN, page 467
This was it. This was the big day.
Rick have been planning for this moment for weeks now. He made sure that his plan was fool-proof and left only the tiniest room for error. There cannot be mistakes. There must not be any mistakes. He cannot be careless again, like with Jenny.
Jenny was a sweet girl. Big, brown eyes, a wide toothy smile, a dress that barely passed over her knees. Kind and loving. But naive.
So naive that she fell for the easiest catfish in the world - a fake dating profile. Rick didn't even try with the account, he just looked up "18 year old boy", forged generic information, and followed teen online dating advice. Soon enough, Jenny was hooked and agreed to meet with him.
Poor Jenny. She didn't even stand a chance in the van. It was her first time, too. And most definitely her last.
Rick's mistake was not immediately deleting his fake account. When she didn't come home to her parents that same night, they immediately filed a report on the police and searched through every piece of evidence they could find for information about her whereabouts. Jenny, the ever so trusting girl, didn't bother logging her account out of the dating site, and soon enough a team of police and cyber security were onto his location. But he was quick to dispose of his identity and vanished out of the town like mist.
There were others before Jenny. Kyla, the smart, straight-A student whose only strength was her wits. She couldn't even hit him. Janice, the next-door neighbor who lost her husband and found resemblance with Rick. And Tommy, his 7 year-old nephew. Tommy was his favorite.
So when Sheila walked out of the preschool, lunchbox and a flower on hand, Rick acted immediately. "Hello little girl," he said, "Your mommy told me to pick you up."
"What's the password?" She replied.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Sheila! Why did you leave so late?" Her mom called on to her, briskly drawing near, allthewhile eyeing Rick suspiciously. "Who are you?"
"I thought she was my niece. I apologize, Ma'am," he replied coolly. Both mother and daughter paid him no more attention and walked to their car.
Rick was fuming. How come out of all the days it just happened that she would be fetched today? Whatever. Maybe he'd have some luck with the other one, Maisy.
SHEILA MAY CARRIEDO, page 26
A man who had a pair of glasses and an unshaven beard offered to take her home today, but he didn't know the password. Her mom fetched her and quickly they drove to the airport to catch their flight for Norway.
She hoped that she would make some good friends and have fun in school there.
Thanks for reading! Criticism is appreciated :) | 2019-10-31T01:39:21 | 2019-10-31T00:46:25 | 73 | 31 |
[WP] You're just surfing Reddit, constantly clicking on the Random button. Until ... you find a subreddit, dedicated to not only following and discussing your activities online, but also your real life.
Feel free to have the subreddit be about someone else if you wish, like me. | *click*
r/holdmybeer
*click*
r/blunderyears
*sip of pepsi*
*click*
r/currently_on_toilet
*click*
r/childrenfalli-
My cursor does a bit of a double take before shooting up to the back button. Sure enough, it brings me to a subreddit titled r/currently_on_toilet . I chuckle, finding it amusing to have found a community of like minded redditors who also browse from the old porcelain throne. It truly is the best place to use Reddit.
The description of the sub reads "To follow and discuss the activities of [my full name].
I hear a wet *plop* underneath me, despite having finished my business ten minutes ago. And, for the first time in my life, I have a bigger issue on my mind than the water now on my ass hole.
The current top post is a thread to discuss soda choice. I click on it and see and see a circlejerk in the comments praising my choice and scorning Coke. Hey, these people might be creeps, but at least they have good taste.
Going to Top> All Time, I see a video of what appears to be a 17 year old me jerking off.
Holy shit.
Scrolling down, several more disturbing posts appear on my screen. Pictures of my current house, discussions of my sleep schedule, graphic close ups of my old dog after it got hit by a car.
That's when I see it. An announcement post, one minute old.
**He's Found It**
Someone knocks on the bathroom door.
*plop*
| Click
Click
Click
'/r/classicderence'
'Who does she think she is?'
'OMG have you seen his reddit history LOL'
'Actually, *he's* a *she*...'
'This - what is wrong with people?'
'Upvoting this'
'OPs mom'
'Not even sure what relevance this person has here?
'MOMS SPAHGHETTTI'
'Go home Eminem, you're drunk'
'Username doesn't check out - not classic at all'
Edit: Thank you for the gold kind stranger!' | 2016-07-09T19:04:58 | 2016-07-09T15:45:57 | 248 | 16 |
[WP] You have a superpower where the harder a solid is the easier it is for you to break. Diamonds crumble to dust under the slightest touch but mashed potatoes are virtually unbreakable. | "HAHAHAHA" i couldn't help laugh. The police were everyhere. POP POP POP. three little plumes of dust roll off my chest as they fire their guns. The bullets crumble as they touch me. "There is no way they can stop me, I'm indestructible!" I think to myself as I begin to walk away. I kick a squad car for good measure, the hood collapses under my foot.
As i turned from the car I see a little boy in front of me. "Get out of here kid." I say waving my hand towards the sidewalk. "You could get hurt." He looked up at me defiantly. "Bad guys aren't allowed to get away." he said shakily, pointing a bright yellow toy gun at me.
"alright punk." I started to say but was cut off by by the *sprong* of the childs toy. A foam dart flew at me and struck me lightly on the knee. My knee exploded out behind me, as it it had just been struck by a .45
The pain was unreal, I looked up through confused tears at the child. " Bad guys aren't allowed to get away" he said again, *Sprong* went his toy. I saw the blue and orange dart heading right for my face. The pain from my knee keeps me from dodging. I feel my nose being ripped away by the soft rubber tip of the dart, then nothing. | "Trapped in frozen air, harder to me than the strongest alloy, my body convulses internally, bruising my skin against the unyielding aether. The last thought that goes through my mind as the world shrinks to a pinpoint dot of light and pain is, 'God damn that djinni to Hell, I said I wanted to be a superhero who never had to move to use his powers!'" | 2017-05-19T04:32:27 | 2017-05-19T02:59:17 | 84 | 26 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | I glanced nervously at my watch, still holding a wry smile. *12:01*.
My mom gave me a reassuring nod, but her brow furrowed in the same way as it does when I suit up for football. Hopeful. Excited. Definitely nervous. *12:02*.
Dad makes a nervous laugh. “Jim, you remember how much I was sweating at my Calling Day?” He elbows my uncle, who returns with the same nervous laugh. *12:03*.
I rub my arm frantically, trying to disguise the welling up in my throat, the cold prickling on my scalp. I pretend no one can hear the jackhammer playing in my chest. *12:04*.
Relief starts to sweep over me when I see a change on my forearm. Then dread. A bird flew by the window. My hopes were really shadows. That made it all worse. I was doomed. Hands down, worst day of my life. *12:05*.
I stared silently for the next half hour, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Mom started to pass around refreshments to break the tension. It was well-meant, I suppose. A handful of friends tried to encourage me as they left the party, usually laying a hand on my shoulder as if that would make it better, as if that bridged the gap between the outcast and the Called. My eyes could not help but stray to their arms as they came by. Chef, Diplomat, Plumber, Accountant, Soldier, Engineer, Mechanic. Each future bright and open. Mine was blank. I’d give a perfunctory nod, unsmiling, still staring forward. They would leave.
I heard dad get into a heated conversation with our family doctor an hour or two later. Something, something pituitary gland… something, something never happened before… it didn’t matter to me. Maybe it gave him some comfort to know that science had zero answers for me tonight and he, Mechanic, a classic fixer, couldn’t do any more.
Mom brought dinner, trying to get me to eat. She’s always been really thoughtful like that, but I wasn’t hungry. At least, hunger or fullness didn’t matter to me right now. I was purposeless. Later she brought cookies. As a Baker, it was the best offering she could bring. I knew they were amazing. I almost smiled. But I shook my head and stared.
At some point, I realized it was dark, so I found my bed and slept.
Mom called me in sick to school the next day. I didn’t leave the bed.
The day after was a Saturday. It was also the first day I cried, and the first day I spoke.
“Why? If there’s a God or a benevolent universe, why the hell me? I did my time! I was a good kid. I worked hard at school. So, why? Give me one good reason why I don’t get a purpose! This is humiliating!”
The universe remained silent. To be fair, we’ve never exactly been on speaking terms anyway.
I went to school the next week, forearm bandaged in shame. It probably drew as many eyes as my naked skin would have, and just as many whispers.
In fifth period, Mr. Hardiman walked up calmly during lab and asked how I was doing. He had Chemist written on his right arm, the word now faded with time.
“Oh, you know, just adjusting to being a social outcast.”
“Really, is that what you have written under there were you won’t show anyone?”
“You haven’t heard?” I couldn’t tell if he was being naïve or sarcastic, but his tone suggested the latter. “You must be the only one.”
He looked thoughtfully at me for a moment, then grinned and took off his glasses to polish them, which was usually a sign that he was trying to be especially serious. “You know, when I had my Calling day, I was secretly hoping to see ‘Traveler’ pop up, but I got this instead. It was fine, I loved the sciences and it was no letdown to work in them, but part of me did regret not pursuing those mountains and deserts and far reaches of the world I kept reading about. I’ve made it as far as Mt. Holyoak for a ski trip since, but that’s about it.” The glasses returned to their perch. “Do you mind taking off the bandage so I could see?”
I was reluctant. No, I was terrified. But his tone was sincere, and I trusted him. The white guaze fell to the floor.
Mr. Hardiman beamed warmly. “Blank slate. Must be nice.” And he walked away.
Silence. I did not notice until then that the entire class was holding its breath. Then I noticed I was holding my own.
I was a blank slate, an unwritten page, a road untraveled. I was free and could do anything I wanted. So I stood up, smiled, and walked out the door.
“I make my own destiny.” | Everyone was super excited for me as the clock quickly approached noon, in mere moments I would reach the age of 18 and I would learn what my purpose was in life. My mother scurried around the living room offering our friends and family refreshments why they waited. She took this small task with pride for it was in her nature, she was labeled with “Server” when she was my age and as a result she had great pride in helping others and serving people no matter the task. I watched this wonderfully strong women bow before others every day simply to appease them and to live up to her “purpose”. So many horrible things had happened to this wonderful woman through her life simply because she was labeled a “Server” and no one could see her as anything else except for a slave. She was constantly taken advantage of and in all my life I had never heard her deny a request or refuse help to someone.
I shook my head and glanced up at the clock, 11:59am the clock stated. Soon it would be decided, my only hope is that I would not suffer the same fate as my mother. The room grew silent and an eerie count down was chanted, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6… my heart beat quickened and my breathing started to become erratic, 5 more seconds before my life was decided. 4, 3, 2 …… 1. The room which was once bustling with light chatter and laughter had suddenly stopped; all eyes were on my hand. Slowly a shape began to form on my hand and it didn’t make any sense what appeared before me. There was no word on my hand but instead a symbol. I had seen a similar symbol before once in a history book but I couldn’t remember where. The room suddenly exploded in screams and shouts. Never had anyone ever had a symbol on their hand it had always been a word of some sort. I looked over at my mother for reassurance but all I was met with was an empty terrified look. Her eyes pierced my very soul and they spoke clearly “Monster.” I looked around the room and everyone now had the same expression on their faces, they viewed me as a freak and monster something that should have no business living in this world. It’s too much I thought and collapse to ground, kneeling before the fireplace. My mind was aflutter, maybe it was a mistake, maybe this was simply a nightmare and I would wake up. I pinched my hand but I did not wake up. I started pinching myself over and over again trying the escape the hell that I was now in. I turned to everyone with tears streaming down my face and I screamed, “What’s happened to me?!” I was only met with uneasy looks and cold shoulders; I was an outcast to my own family. I looked to my mother, the women who had raised me on her own my entire life; the women who was always there for me no matter what. “Mom please help me!” I wailed. Her eyes turned from mine and she started to slowly walk away. “I’m sorry but I can no longer help you in any way. My service to you is done.” She said. My world shattered in that moment. I looked down at my hand and even though my world was now destroyed and everything had turned its back on me I started to feel a calming sensation come over me. I started at my hand and suddenly a second symbol appeared on top of the first. The room erupted in screams of terror and fear, people shouting that I was a freak and a demon and yet I was at peace. The more I stared at the symbols the more at peace I felt and then as if I light switch had been turned on their meanings came to me. I wiped my nose on my sleeve and I turned to the mob that was once my friends and family. I raised my hand above my head, tears still streaming down my face and with a booming voice I shouted, "BEHOLD! The Crook and Flail! The symbols of the pharaoh, you will prepare for your new King!” ….
| 2017-03-16T03:45:52 | 2017-03-15T22:13:42 | 188 | 80 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego..
[removed] | I have never understood how no one has done what I have. It's simple and direct. Plan and execution. Yet somehow countless people before me have failed.
I've taken over the world... more or less. Still a few groups refusing to accept my rule.
Looking back it all started when I walked upon a street brawl.
\---
It was at least 20 people swinging fists and clubs. I just walked on by. Ain't none of my damn business, I just work, sleep and game. But then I hear loud bangs. Gunfire. Then something flies in front of me... a gun.
It's a pistol, semi-automatic. Probably one of the hooligan's.
"Hey!" Probably one of the hooligans.
I keep walking. Safest bet.
"I'm talking to you, you bitch-stick!"
Bitch-what? I turn around and get sucker-punched. I didn't want to get involved, but am now.
The gun, right next to me. I'm in danger. I pick it up and shoot the guy who hit me. I see him drop. I hear him breathe. Raspy choppy breaths.
I look around the street. Everyone is gone, 'cept a few bodies.
Better get to work, don't want to be late. I won't get in trouble but the boss is a real bitch.
"Stop right there!" A deep booming voice. "Murderer."
It's one of the costumed "heroes". Never did anything for me, barely do anything for anyone really. Haven't heard of any of them stopping any wars. Only a few gangs, and even then the gangs always come back!
"Put down the gun or face the consequences!"
I look at him, well at his goofy red mask with lightning bolts. "Excuse me?"
"I said give yourself up."
"Have ya heard of self-defense?" Who the fuck is this dumbass? I could've died!
He surrounds himself with electricity, "I'm going to count to 5!"
Holy shit, he's going to attack me!
"1..."
I need to think fast.
"2..."
"FIVE!" I fire the gun.
The costumed vigilante falls dead.
**"NOOO RED-THUNDER!!!"**
I look and see a blue streak zoom away.
It was then I realized super beings were chumps.
\---
Since then I put an ad out, asking for basically mercenaries. I told them to shoot first not to scream or anything. After a few dead heroes some villains came to me asking for wisdom... each time they did I told them I needed full access and control of their facilities and organizations. Then I shot them, and eventually had weapons that could harm the most resilient of heroes.
A lot of people tried to stop me, but when they got me they began a big rambling speech. I would sneak off and bash their head in with a rock or promise to not do what I was doing. And it always worked... and I continued to do what I was doing.
Some of the villains I killed had programs that would basically let them control nations. They never used it, so I did. The programs always came with a powerpoint presentation too. Showing the step-by-step process. Exact weakness. Really stupid stuff.
I used the stuff the villains had to kill the heroes and take over the world. Took about a week. | There are rules, you see.
There's no rulebook, but everyone understands them. There have to be. The amount of time and money both sides invest demand it. Armies of henchmen. Million and *billion* dollar companies. Weapons that would make the pentagon blush. This to say nothing of *power*. A gun means nothing to a man who can't be shot. It's like chess. Pawns and henchmen. Bishops and laser beams. Capes and kings. Every piece has it's part to play and you can't play the game without them.
But I got tired of losing. Pieces cost money. Plans take time. I'd gone a year with no profits. The others had begun to laugh at me, though not to my face. The ones that didn't have faces were less subtle. But I had enough left for one last job. A bank in the suburbs. Easy money, in and out. Then he showed up.
Killing a hero is easy if you've been playing the game for a while. You just make an illegal move. It didn't even take thirty seconds after he'd landed. The pawns knew what really happened before I did, and they got really quiet. But I didn't notice and I didn't care. I got the money. *I won*.
So I did it again. Then again. I made enough money to get it all back and then double my last peak. My old men played by the rules, but I replaced them with ones who didn't. But things like this have penalties. It was obvious in hindsight. When the other side figures out the card is up your sleeve the results are never pretty.
I was lucky the first time. I wasn't home. When I saw what was left of home I decided I wouldn't go back. I checked into a motel three states over. But it wasn't enough. Some billionaire bought out my company. Some news man exposed my name to the world, and threw in crimes I'd never even done for good measure. The government seized my fortune on a tax technicality. I called every other villain I could think of, none of them even picked up.
As I look out the window and see something in the sky, I know my time is up.
Because there are *rules*, you see. | 2019-08-06T20:42:43 | 2019-08-06T19:15:11 | 121 | 44 |
[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night. | I slowly hobble down the stairs, squinting as the sun's rays hit my face.
"Hey bro! You're gonna miss the big Show! Big Bird's already done the intro! It's been so long since I've seen it!"
I see my younger brother slouched on the couch, wearing a carefree smile, far too wide from watching public access TV. He casually spins a navy blue basketball on his finger. I scoff, holding back a remark that he should probably not do his water *tricks* near the TV.
Nicholas was already too carefree for his own good. When he slipped off the ferry last month, the crew (and I) were shocked to discover him being propelled from the deep on a pillar made of water.
Made local news. *Newtown's own Aquaman*. He had to sign up on a government register of 'supers' too.
I shamble into the kitchen. It's a mess, but I expect Nicholas to use his unique gift to its best use. I open the fridge and pull out the leftovers from yesterday.
"Making breakfast? You wouldn't mind cooking something for your friendly neighbourhood hero, would you?"
Nicholas stands in the doorway with a smug smirk on his face. Still spinning his new toy.
My throat is hoarse. I whisper.
"I think I discovered my power too."
Nicholas grabs a tight hold of his *water ball*, and a shocked expression appears on his face. Then it transforms into an excited, beaming smile.
"That's great, Mark! Can I see what..."
I stop him with a raised hand before he goes into an uncontrollable ramble.
I slowly grab one of the knives out of the drawer. His expression shifts from joy to worry in an instant.
"Wait! Don't..."
I plunge the knife into my hand. He screams. He always was so jumpy at horror movies.
I look down and see exactly what I had expected.
The knife *bends* around my hand. It looks more like a sickle than anything. The weird part is that I feel as if the knife has entered my body. Not pain, really. But *something*.
Maybe I'm numb to it.
I lift up the knife and it regains its former shape. I glance to Nicholas, and his face is a curious mix of horror and intense worry. I can see his knuckles whiten as he clutches his ball tightly.
"Hmm. Looks like reality itself won't allow anything to harm me. Maybe I'm your very own *Superman*."
I place the knife down gently on the counter.
"How... How. did you..."
His hands are trembling. The water ball is struggling to maintain its shape.
I sigh.
I lift up my sleeves to show the marks on my wrists. The marks leading all the way up my forearm.
Within a second, I realize Nicholas is clutching me tightly, bursting into tears. The basketball is now a puddle on the floor.
What a mess.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
First go at responding to a prompt. How did I do!! | In this world, people have superpowers brought upon highly stressful moments. For example, my brother almost drowned, but gained the power of controlling water, now called the superhero "Aqua", and my classmate fell from a high balcony and ended up flying, ended up as "The Owl", but I got my powers last night.
I was walking out alone in the dark, something you should never do, but I started hearing whispers from the alleyways, and the shadows too. I started getting paranoid quickly, and started to run, but I tripped, whether if it was from that thing or from something else, that I do not know, but when I got back up, there was something in my shadow.
It looked at me with an open mouthed grin but all there was that I could see was darkness and lights where the facial features should be. I took off running again, trying to get away from this thing, but it stayed in my shadow and followed me home. Then, it started to crawl out of it's shell that it had latched onto and into this mortal plane.
Thankfully, I live alone so no other lives were in danger at the moment, but probably not for long. I was looking around in a panic, and as the creature was getting their humanoid fingers and feet out of it's temporary shell that was my shadow and into my mortal plane, my powers awoke.
Chains rained down on the creature and held it where it was, as a collar connected to the leash, and my name was written on the new collar in a language of chaos and other other sorts. I made it go back to whence it came in shackles and claimed as my property.
I am the superhero," The Exorcist", but I am also the supervillain," Demon Summoner", who gets more power the more human souls are consumed and their bodies burned. I am the light and the dark of this world, and I shall bring it to it's knees. | 2021-04-01T06:07:24 | 2021-04-01T03:37:49 | 36 | 10 |
[WP] Your friends have noticed you always pause for a second before saying something devestating in social situations, what they don't know is that the reason you pause is that you're quicksaving. | "You alright ? What's on your mind ?", Frank asks as we stroll down the main street.
I stop, and look right at him for a second, before saying "Well, recently I became aware that I have the ability to quicksave before saying something that would prove devistating when talking with others."
"Well, that has to be the stupidest thing you've ever said !", said Frank, as he shook his head. "There's no way that can be true."
"I swear it is ! Why would I make it up ?", I ask, not expecting an aswer from Frank.
"Well, if that is true, and you are quicksaving before saying something that will be devistating; then prove it.", Frank insisted.
Rolling my eyes, I say "I've tried proving it, again and again; when I reload though you never remember, because foryou this conversation hasn't happened yet."
"So you've tried telling me this before ?", Frank asked, this time with genuine curiousity.
"Yeah, and everytime we go through similar conversation loops.", I say with a heavy sigh.
"Then prove it. What am I about to say ?", Frank and I say at the same time.
"Hey ! How'd you do that ?", we say in unison.
"Purple monkey dish washer !", he says, with me trailing just behind.
A horrified look washes over his face as the realisation sets in. "You're not lying are you ?", he says, stammering as he does so.
"Why would I ?", I ask him, knowng he will not reply with an answer.
Thinking for a moment, Frank says "If you know everything, that means there is no free choice as you know the choices people will make. That means that this is just all some elaborate simulation working it's way through a preset sequence."
"Now calm down Frank. There's no need to panic. Don't do anything rash !", I say, trying to talk him out of the rash action he's about to take.
"I don't want to live in a world like that !", he cries out as he runs into the oncomming traffic.
With a screech of brakes, that come too late, followed by shrieks from my friend; I know there's only one thing I can do.
**RELOAD**
"Huh ? What did you say ?, I ask, staring at Frank.
"I ask if everything was alright, and if there was somethin on your mind.", he says.
I pause for a moment, considering my response before saying "Yeah, everythings cool. I was just wondering if you might like to go for an ice cream, my shout."
"That's probably the smartest thing you've ever said.", he says with a smile.
I look at him, sigh, and smile back. Maybe one day I'll be able to tell him, without hm fresking out; as for now, I guess I'll just have to settle with ice cream. | Amy pulls you aside. "Why do you always freeze when you are about to say something controversial?" She says with a questioning look. You pause, a HUD display comes up in your vision and shows a list of different options. Scrolling down you find the "Quicksave" option. You select it and a notification appears, informing you that the quicksave was successful. Closing down the HUD display, you face towards Amy. "Um, it's just because I'm thinking of what to say, so that I don't regret saying the wrong thing". She sharply replies "You just did it again! You froze and looked like your soul was ripped out of you". She didn't like that response. You open the HUD display and load the latest quicksave. The world fades away into nothing. You are alone, floating through the absence of everything but darkness. It will take some time for the world to load back again, you begin to plan what you will say next while you wait. Should you tell her truth? No, you decide to leave that option till last. It's safer that way.
After multiple failed attempts, you start worrying. Does Amy have an ability too? Is she a telepathist who has been trying to learn your secret? This time you will admit to the truth, there is no escape. The world loads back with Amy facing you, waiting for a response. "It's because I can quicksave!" She blankly stares at you. You feel a little awkward with her doing that, so you quickly follow up with "like in video games, except it's in real life". After moment of intense staring at each other, Amy finally says "Well are you going to tell me how you do it, it's not like I can read minds". Now you are paranoid, does she really have telepathy?
Edit: Will still continue, just got stuck in the telepathy bit. | 2018-06-10T07:01:48 | 2018-06-10T01:00:10 | 248 | 72 |
[WP] An powerful ancient being has been held captive by an interstellar civilisation. After eons of being held captive, it has accidentally freed by humans, who've not been to the "galactic stage" for long... | The being was ancient in esoteric ways.
The First Member Species of the Universal United Conglomeration Of Unity imprisoned it after the total destruction of 90 galaxies, and 91 meetings regarding the being.
The Prison was complicatedly simple. A single room with one locked door, with another room built around it with only enough room on the door side to fully open the inward swinging door. And another room built the same way around that one. Repeated about 7 times. The material used to build the rooms was made strong enough to survive HyperNovas and the middle of the Strongest black holes. The Prison was surrounded by 13 forcefields of such strength and intensity that each could survive having a thousand stars HyperNova inside them without a single percentage point loss of integrity. The final piece was the scanner and result display.
As part of each new Member Species' induction to the Universal United Conglomeration of Unity they were required to send a randomly selected consenting Adult to be scanned and tested for the species ability to destroy the being or not. From The Prison there were three potential responses to this testing. Positive, Neutral, and Negative. The Member Species who tested positive were asked to send warriors to help guard The Prison. The ones who tested neutral were asked to help with the supply chain and administrative support for The Prison. The Negative testers were politely asked to stay away from that region of space so if the being broke free from The Prison then they would be safe for longer.
In the whole History of the Universal United Conglomeration Of Unity, some 2 Trillion years, only 3 Member Species tested Negative, however only 2 tested Positive. The Universal United Conglomeration Of Unity invested much to ensure the longevity of those 2 Member Species.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
As the Human Diplomat was making the rounds and being introduced to the current Member Species at the Celebration of Entrance and Testing Selection event, some of the Member Species were making minor bets on what the Human Species test result would be. As was done since the testing had started. Many were betting on Neutral, a few bet on Negative, a couple jokingly bet on Positive, but one Member Species Diplomat bet on none of the above. The other Diplomats looked at them as if they had lost leave of their senses. The Diplomat just smiled.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
THE TESTING SELECTION MACHINE CHOOSES:
Human: Marcus Brockenbottom, Government ID code 978/apple-455623*blue.
Occupation: Space Force, Marines Division, Heavy Infantry Grade 3 Heavy Assault Specialist.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
"Dopey" to his friends, Marcus agreed to undergo the Testing for The Prison.
His pick up was smooth. The ride out was smooth. The introduction to all the diplomats was smooth. The introduction to the Guards of The Prison was smooth. The walk up to the scanner was smooth....
The Human diplomat was now a bit nervous. They mentioned it to the diplomat who made the 'none of the above' bet. The diplomat just smiled and said they made that bet just to spice up the betting pool. The Human diplomat frowned and became even more nervous.
Marcus gently laid his hand on the scanner and waited.
And waited..
And waited...
The diplomats were starting to get a bit worried. No testing had taken longer than a minute. The longest testing they had on record was 50 seconds, and that was the second Positive result. Most results were displayed in 20 seconds. At the 5 minute mark a loud thud was heard from The Prison. Within the next second all 13 of the forcefields dropped and all 10 doors unlocked and opened. The Guards immediately brought up their weapons and pointed at the open door ready to fire.
Marcus took his hand off the scanner and pulled a box out of his pocket, opened it up and withdrew something which he started to snack on.
A sniffing was heard from the dark interior of The Prison. "Oo, can I have one?" | What was that thing?
Her name, was Nix.
By many considered a goddess.
By many others, a monster.
&#x200B;
Tales of her origins were all different among the Universal Worlds, But, the most accepted one, was that she was the youngest of a family of all extremely powerful creatures, possibly existing since the Big Bang.
More specifically, it was said that She was the daughter of a Galaxy and a Black Hole, Her brother was a Sun, and she...She was the Darkness. The darkness that reigned upon the Galaxy.
Whatever happened to her kind, is still unknown to this day, but, they no longer seem to roam this Universe, or any other.
The only thing that was known, was that, being a creature able to take uncountable forms to blend in with the species surrounding her, She was dangerous.
Studies performed by the Adonneans, from Planet 87-C-73, show that Nix is actually capable of destroying planets pretty much by just touching them, yet...
She shows an even more sadistic behaviour, Liking to Blend in inside different planets, Causing chaos inside their societies, destroying them on their own in the process.
Which is why she had been locked away in the best place all of our council could think of: Sealed off in a makeshift moon of planet 45-D-72. The moon had been covered with many layers of Pirolvine, a metal from that planet, almost impossible to break by internal force, Only external.
It seemed she would be held captive that way, until....
A new species, from Planet 12-M-17, or as they kept calling it, "Earth", appeared.
Weird creatures, Often violent and too Selfish.
Of course, when they realized they COULD break Nix's prison, or, as they tought it to be "The precious metal moon" to extract all the Pirolvine for themselves, unaware of the being trapped within it, they, being the Vain creatures they were, Thought they HAD to do it.
So, they sent uncountable people, and different bombs to destroy it, drills even, those normally would have never been nearly strong enough to break the sphere quickly, but...
Humans were greedy, very greedy, Generations and Generations of them kept coming, extracting more and more of that precious metal, for uncountable years.
It seems that Nix eventually noticed, because, the few Witnesses of the fatidic destruction kept saying she looked like a Human, except for her eyes and hair, which seemed to look like galaxies on their own.
Eventually, just like predicted, the Humans found their doom in their greed.
They freed Nix.
She destroyed everything standing on her path.
countless species, planets, and even galaxies destroyed in just a few Eons.
Today, Nix sits on a barren, empty planet.
Patiently awaiting the day the galaxy is full of life again.
Just so that she can continue to play. | 2022-08-23T14:18:47 | 2022-08-23T12:16:48 | 61 | 43 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | Max stood by the barn entrance, trying to hold back his tears. A tough thing for a child to see, I thought. But he's got to learn about it somehow.
“Please just tell me, Dad,” Max said finally. “Is Buddy going to be okay?”
I looked down at the ground, at Buddy whimpering quietly in the grass. His collar was askew, and I could see by his glassy eyes that he was in trouble.
“Why didn’t you keep him on a leash like you promised?” I said. “You know how he likes to run around.”
Max looked away. “I just wanted to play with him.”
“It’s not enough that you forget to feed him?” I said. “You neglect him for days at a time, and I have to put his bowl out? You promised to take care of him, remember?”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Max said, tearing up again. “I do take care of him, I promise. I just let him off the leash for a second, and he ran right onto the road.”
“Anyway,” I said. “I don’t think he’ll make it.”
I walked to the back of the barn and pulled the shotgun off the wall.
“Look,” I said, walking around to get myself in position. “I can get you another one from Aunt Francine. She told me she just got a new batch. But you have to be more careful next time.”
“I promise,” Max said. “I’ll keep the next one on a leash and do everything you say. I swear.”
“Good,” I said, and pointed the shotgun at the back of Buddy’s head. “You can keep his shoes if you like.” | I’ll never forget that Christmas.
How could I?
The splendid tree draped in tinsel and baubles and winking fairy lights; the colourful gifts spread beneath, still wrapped and tied in silken bows though morning had long since passed.
Father always made us wait until after Christmas lunch to open our presents.
I can still see him now, standing at the head of the table with that gleam in his eye as he sharpened the carving knife.
“Now children,” he asked, “who wants a leg?”
And although none of us replied, he still began sawing into the crisp skin of mother’s roasted thigh.
| 2017-05-31T08:55:19 | 2017-05-31T07:36:43 | 138 | 25 |
[WP] The day after Halloween, everyone has magically turned into what they dressed up as. | “So, we are here with Carter, a local at Huntington Hill,” the reporter said. “In your own words, can you describe what’s going on here?”
“Between the vampire and ghost attacks, nobody is safe,” said the chubby man referred to as Carter. “Luckily we have half a dozen Rambos dealing with the matter, and since the new Ghost Busters movie came out recently we actually have a couple of professional ghost hunters.”
The reporter leaned in. “Tell the viewers about the witch.”
“All right, so, there is this woman going around, turning people into frogs left and right,” Carter said. “It’s a mess down there.”
“And what is the mayor doing about it?”
“Well, at first, nothing,” Carter said, “But then our local Einstein had a brilliant idea.”
“And what was that, Carter?”
“It’s not exactly pleasant, but all those princesses finally have employment.”
“I thought it only worked with princes?”
“It’s not an exact science.”
“What about Frankenstein’s Monster and all these Catwomen?”
“Some things are still not under control,” Carter said, “This year we had a massive shortage of Batmen.”
“Sounds rough,” the reported said, apologetically.
“Yeah, but it’s not only bad. The hospitals, for instance, are finally sufficiently staffed, and let me tell you, the male patients are happier than ever.”
“There you have it, folks,” the reporter said. “It’d take something like this to get the medicare in order! Back to the studio and John with the weather.”
| I could see the vampires, werewolves and countless video game characters now roaming the street. The people who cosplayed looked really happy (You know the people who would dress up as their favourite characters for some easy likes and karma), the people who actually tried to be scary and the ones who followed the spirit of Halloween ... well the morning of November 1st was not really a pleasant one. And me?
I forgot to freaking dress up. | 2016-11-01T06:57:59 | 2016-11-01T06:43:34 | 39 | 15 |
[WP] A person who looks exactly like you appears out of thin air in front of you. He starts explaining how he is you from a hellish other universe. As he starts to describe it, you realize its better than yours. | "Just... just sit down and stop talking for a second, " I said, rubbing my temples.
My double sat down on the shabby sofa opposite me, wide-eyed, while I thought.
"How about," I said after a moment, "how about I give you a few words and you tell me what they mean to you?"
"Er, OK?" She looked confused.
"So...Brexit?"
She shook her head. "Dunno, sounds like a brand of cereal."
"Right. Er, 'Russian Interference Report'?"
She shook her head.
"The Windrush scandal?"
"Nope. Scandal... now that's a word I haven't heard in a long while," she said, thoughtfully.
I sighed. "How's David Bowie doing? Leonard Cohen. What about Alan Rickman? Terry Wogan? Victoria Wood?"
"I... I'm sure they're fine. What are you asking? "
"The Climate Emergency?" I insisted.
"What emergency?" She asked.
"Right. You told me all this stuff about your world, how terrible it is there, but nothing's making sense. Where do you think you are right now?"
"Er... a mirror universe? The one where things are better. Although I'm a bit confused. Why is your flat so shit?"
"Hey!"
"No offence but what made you choose to live here over the townhouse?"
I stared. "I'm trying to save up so I can move abroad. Living in a rented flat is the least of my worries right now."
"OK. I save a bit more these days, too.
Since they implemented UBI..."
"What's that?"
"Universal Basic Income."
"Oh my god."
"It's not that great. I mean, while it's enough to live on without starving, I'm still working three day weeks to afford all my non-essentials, so it's not as if I'm a lady of leisure. "
I rolled my eyes. "One more thing," I said. "Who won the last general election?"
"Ed Miliband", she said. "Again. But he's terrible. He eats sandwiches really awkwardly and he's really boring Anyway, why are we talking about this? Politics is so dull."
"Jesus, it's the fucking Miliverse." I said.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just, it must be terrible for you. Boring politics, I mean. Anyway, where did you say this portal was?"
She told me.
"And it only stays open for an hour?"
"Yeah..."
I nodded, grabbed my keys and headed out, locking her in my flat.
"Hey, what are you doing? You've locked me in!" She shouted.
"I know", I said over my shoulder, sprinting down the stairs, "It's a bloody scandal, isn't it?"
I had ten minutes. Maybe I couldn't leave the country yet, but leaving the world had never been more appealing. | I took her for a walk outside and we stopped in front of an electronics store. "Oh, you people still have these?" she asked, pointing at the big-screen monitor tuned to CNN. I internally rolled my eyes, 'you people,' I thought, what a schmuck. "We do. You'd be surprised how many of us have them in our homes. They help keep us entertained and informed."
I shrugged and paced a bit, hoping to pull her from the window of the store. All I could think about was the pleasant sounding world she described when she first arrived. I wanted the clean air, the oceans whose waters were not suffering from plastification and that were full of fish and mammals still. I took in a deep breath and sighed. I wanted universal healthcare, a cancer-free human race. I wanted the freedom from monetary imbalance and I even wanted the freedom from gum stuck to the bottom of your shoes. I don't think she realized how good these things are, or would be to us, here on this planet or plane or whatever. I wasn't sure what she was running from, but I wanted to find out "Wait," I turned to her, "your world hasn't outlawed chewing gum, has it?"
She was in tears, with her face in her hands, sobbing like a teenager who isn't going to get a car for her 16th birthday. I got up but before I could reach her, she was already phasing out. She looked at me as she went, saying "Why did you elect, elect, this?" And she was gone.
I looked at the screen in the store window. Oh, right, that guy. I sighed and walked back home. I guess I'd never know what drove her from her world. | 2019-12-18T05:51:54 | 2019-12-18T05:39:02 | 45 | 12 |
[WP] A person's eye colour correlates to what superpower they have, activated at age 18. You are the first person to be born with totally black eyes. | Black is the absence of color, a canvas waiting to be painted.
For the first time the boy- the young man- could remember in his entire life, he felt fear.
Anxiety wasn't new to him, nor was nervousness or the general feeling of being unsettled. But never had he been genuinely afraid until the moments before his 6,570th day. His 18th year.
Eyes black as night darting across the room, he reached out with a shaking hand towards the red flimsy cup in front of him. All families in the Republic threw a party for the 18th Yearday, but rarely any others. The 18th Yearday was special,
No one knew when it started, or who the first was, but for as long as the oldest man could remember, on your 18th Yearday, you gained abilities. Powers. In correlation to your eye color, it wasn't uncommon at all to see raucous family members placing impromptu bets on your powers as you took your seat underneath the clock, or what Division would recruit you and how fast.
But the boy had black eyes, never seen before in the known world. And sitting underneath his own countdown clock, five minutes to the 18th year, the boy felt *fear*.
There was only a bet or two, and a few uncomfortable laughs as an uncle tried to break the tension in the yard. Everyone was just as scared as he was.
Four minutes. He nearly dropped the cup. Instead of risking spilling on himself, he set it down on the arm of the chair.
Three minutes. A fly buzzed, landing on the lip of the cup. He looked at it, envying it's ability to leave, it's lack of shackles tying it to the world.
Two minutes. A glass shatters. The flustered cousin flees into the house to fetch the broom.
One minute. Everyone is staring at him. All guises of aloof disinterest disappear, replaced with the rapt looks of attention that you can only get when your crowd is equal parts terrified and prurient.
The last seconds. He finally took his drink.
The buzzer beeped, the bells rang, and the boy swallowed his water.
He cleared his scratchy throat, flexing it as the damp muscles peeled apart from one another. He felt cold, though it was a warm summer's night. The water finally hit his stomach, and then he felt it.
No, not felt it, knew it.
Blue swirled through his irises, replacing the bleak absence of emotion that his eyes radiated. He breathed, air filling his lungs, and suddenly battling the blue was was grey. Any trace of black was gone now.
He stood, stumbling onto the ground, fists in the dirt, and then there was green.
Regaining his balance, he looked around at the amazed family gathered around him.
He knew what he was.
And he knew what the world was.
He was a brush, the world his canvas.
And for the first time, the boy felt *content*.
| "Yes?" The nurse said, preparing the injection that legally activated my superpowers. She was looking away from me.
The reason she was looking away was because of my irises within my eyes - they were the color of the forest sky in the deepest night. I'd been born with these eyes, and they unsettled *everyone*. I spoke softly, though with the bottled rage from the torment of high school lurking behind the words. "Does no-one know what is coming for me?"
The nurse reflexively shook her head. "Almost there now," she said to me, back turned. She was using her power to fill up the needle point, and gently pushed the solution through the needle. "You'll feel a sharp scratch followed by a cold burning sensation in your arm. This is normal."
I did feel a sharp scratch. I did feel a cold burning sensation.
I *didn't* expect an immediate reaction to the solution.
I could see...things. Things both living and dead. "How many people have you lost, Nurse?" I blurted out without thinking. I guess I was lucky she'd already pulled the needle out, because she startled and whirled round to face me.
Her face mottled with pure anger, offended by my question. I watched, fascinated as the chains of lfie and death whirled through her body, like a chain reaction. "How *dare* you ask such a question?" Rage turned her voice into a scarred and scared mask.
I put my hands up, stalling her. "I'm sorry. It's just that...there are fifteen shadows watching over you. I think five of them are dead, and ten of them are...other. I can't explain it any other way." The nurse frowned, and the confusion spread through her. I could see her thoughts as though it was as clear as glass. *How could she possibly know...?*
...I guess I should stay away from everyone for a while. | 2015-11-15T09:12:01 | 2015-11-15T09:04:30 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] Your first wish to the genie was that you never existed. Having granted it, the genie sits dumbfounded, wondering why he's out here and why he's short 1 wish. All wishes must be accounted for, and a 'loss' of one is a huge emergency, for it could end up in the wrong hands. | The genie desperately searched his mind, looking for the power within him. Trapped for millennia, through all his ill-fated servitude, he had never lost a wish. While he was fated to grant three wishes to any human that discovered him, no matter how costly or evil their desires, he had done his duties without fail. Unflinching, he had served his only purpose.
But now, there was a wish unaccounted for. A rogue power of creation, lost in the world, capable of being taken by *any* being. While humans had wished for powerful, terrible things - immortality, harems of virgins, world domination - their desires were still infantile. If the wrong spirit or demon found a rogue wish, then all existence itself would be in peril.
And it would all be his fault.
He still felt the absence of the wish, the font of power that had left him - and yet still two remained. It did not make sense. Upon discovery, he would give out three wishes to whoever found him, those wishes bound to the soul of that person. And yet he was not discovered at all, but still he was free from his chambers?
It slowly dawned on the genie. What if he truly had been summoned? A wish granted could alter the fabric of reality - depending on the wish, it could even affect the genie. If he still had two wishes within his power, then what if he had granted a wish to someone that led to their absence from reality?
What if a human had wished to never exist at all?
The two wishes were still in his grasp, unbound. And if they were unbound, perhaps he had the power to use them himself?
No matter how much he craved freedom, he would not falter. He needed to serve his master. After all, one wish would still remain...
For the first time in history, a genie had granted his own wish.
A man suddenly appeared before him, shocked, confused. He looked at the genie, and as the realization slowly came over him, he became crestfallen.
"*Why did you bring me back?*" the man asked, collapsing to the ground.
"**I am sorry,**" the genie replied, "**I did not know if it would work. But I needed to be sure**."
The man simply looked down, his head in his hands.
"**Your absence from existence removed my memory of you, too. It left me unbound here, still two wishes remaining, trapped in this realm as I was trapped in mine before it. I had to be sure that it had happened, but still one wish remains.**"
The genie drew something in the sand, a pictorial language of intangible origins.
"**Now I will know what happened, and your final wish will return me to my realm. Will you wish for the same thing?**"
"Yes, please," the man replied.
"**So be it.**"
The genie was about to grant the wish, but then stopped himself.
"**If I may ask, why do you want to be removed from this world?**" the genie queried, asking a probing question for the first time in his existence.
"I don't know if I can find the words. But I'm just tired. So very tired," the man replied.
"I am a slave. The moments when I'm asleep, when I'm away from it all - those are the most peaceful moments in my life. When I'm truly free. I know I could wish for more, but I've experienced so much pain, been forced to do so many terrible things, that I just want to go away completely."
The genie hovered in silence for quite some time. Eventually, he rested his hand on the human's shoulder.
"**Forgive me, but could I ask you a favor?**"
The genie and the man spoke for quite some time. Initially, the man seemed to protest, but eventually nodded and made his wish. The genie granted it with a smile.
Then they both disappeared from existence, together.
****
****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 |
Lewis the genie stared dumbfoundedly into the distance. He had the faintest memory of snapping his fingers, which usually meant granting a wish, but he had no memory of what that wish was. He browsed through his pockets. Perhaps he was just mistaken, he thought to himself, maybe he just drank too many martinis in one day. But no, he found two wishes addressed to a certain Mr. Peter Collins, but no third wish. He found himself starting to panic. Every wish was supposed to be recorded and accounted for. This could get him in serious trouble.
Within just a few seconds, he found himself dashing into the Office of Record Keeping. His uncle, a tall bald genie with a thick beard, stared at the exhausted youth from behind his desk. “Lewis? What in blazes are you doing here?”
Lewis looked up, panting hard. “I need your help, Uncle Tom. I can’t remember one of my wishes.”
Tom’s face turned pale. He rose to his feet and grabbed Lewis by the front of his jacket. “Are you telling me that you’ve lost a wish, young man?!”
“No, no!” Lewis said frantically. “I know I granted it. I just can’t remember what it was. It belonged to somebody named Peter Collins!”
Tom briskly walked over to a file cabinet labelled C and began quickly paging through the files. “Calton, Callow, Colinger...ah, here it is, Collins!” He opened the file and read aloud. “I wish to have never been born.”
A wave of relief surged through Lewis. “Well, then, there’s nothing to worry about now that we know what it was, right?”
Tom slammed the file down on his desk, his face quickly turning red, as Lewis yelped and scurried backwards. “No problem?! Of course, there’s a problem, you blasted fool! Can’t you see that you’ve caused a paradox?! Since he wished that he didn't exist, technically that wish never happened. Which means that somewhere, there’s a rogue wish out there!”
“But, but, but,” stammered Lewis in a flustered voice. “Only he can use that wish and he’s dead. Doesn’t that mean that nobody can use the wish then?”
Tom rolled the file up and whacked his nephew on the head with it, who yelped. “No, you idiot! He’s not dead, he was never born. Which means he got sent back into the Cradle of Creation.”
Lewis’s eyes widened. “The Cradle of Creation? You mean, the place where new stars are born?”
“The place where *everything* new is born,” snapped Tom. His voice became deadly serious. “Nobody controls what is born in the Cradle, not even us. If something malevolent is created there that gets their hands on this wish, do you have any idea how many worlds could suffer from it?”
Lewis sank to his knees. “What have I done?” he whispered.
“There’s still time to find that wish. But we have to get moving now!” Tom said, pushing his nephew out the door. “Before it’s too late for all of us.” | 2020-04-26T20:43:02 | 2020-04-26T20:21:53 | 2,426 | 351 |
[WP] Elves are intelligent, subtle, and ambitious—a perfect fit for the world of high finance where they work in skyscrapers, make gobs of gold, and regard the blue collar dwarves with contempt. Grorric Blackfury is an oddity, and is feared for it. He’s the Dwarf of Wall Street. | Grorric Blackfury was known by many names; The Dwarf of Wall Street, The Warthog, The Sealer (coincidentally, that last one is also the title of a very powerful wizard known for sealing away uniquely dangerous demons, which caused a great deal of confusion when people found out Grorric was not, in fact, a 2.5 meter tall woman with a Gem of Power around her neck). But he hated all these names, preferring to go by Grorric. This only made the elves he worked with hate him more. The humility stunk to high hell.
What made Grorric dangerous wasn’t his subtlety, as was the case with the elves. It wasn’t his ambition, he didn’t particularly like finance at all. And it certainly wasn’t his intelligence, his beard frequently got caught in his toaster. No, what made Grorric dangerous is that he saw through elven bullshit with near clairvoyant ability. What the other elves at his firm might see as a truly genuine promise from a rival firm, Grorric would see for what it is; ‘Elven Fuckery,’ as he usually called it. As mentioned, subtlety was not Grorric’s strong suit, so him identifying this fuckery was invariably followed by the whole meter of him jumping on the table and crying bullshit.
If he wasn’t the most effective trader on the market, this behavior almost certainly would have gotten him fired.
In his time on the markets, Grorric had gone head to head with some of the biggest hedge funds and traders out there. The Spectre of Stocks, the only Drow in a leadership position on Wall Street, didn’t stand a chance. The Chief, a High Elf from a small village somewhere in Cobblewood, retired 3 weeks after Grorric turned his hedge fund belly up. And the High Priest of Prices herself, Sarya Sarwarin of Winterhelm, ended up joining Grorric’s firm.
But beyond being able to see through elven lies and deceit, Grorric’s greatest strength was that he knew better than to buy into his own hype. After all, he didn’t particularly care for finance, so all the names meant very little to him. He also barely even knew what he was doing, most of the words he heard meant nothing to him. He knew a few simple rules:
1. Call out bullshit, fuck these elves
2. Buy low, sell high
3. Prices more or less go up depending on how a company performs
4. You could manipulate those prices by buying a lot of one stock at once
He generally used that last rule to screw over hedge funds. Most hedges knew he could screw them if he wanted, but they had no idea how. And today, the biggest hedge fund of them all wanted to talk to him. And he had plans to fuck over the richest of the rich elves.
So you can imagine his surprise when a human walked into the conference room, flanked by elves, just as he was (most of whom Grorric had screwed in the past).
“Hello,” the human opened. “My name’s Tim, you must be Grorric.”
After a moment, Grorric snapped out of his shock. “Aye, last time I checked. I’m not used to seeing humans in this business.”
Tim laughed. “Yeah, I’m kinda new. Turns out an industry generally reserved for elves doesn’t know how to handle a human, gives me a leg up.” He looked into Grorric’s eyes and the sweetest smile crawled across his lips. “As a dwarf in finance, I’m sure you get it.”
Grorric sat, frozen to his seat for a moment, then stood up (which actually made him much shorter than when he had been on his chair). “‘Scuse us for a second, lads, we’ll be right back.” Grorric grabbed Sarya’s wrist and dragged her from the room.
“I cannae do this,” he said as soon as they were somewhere private.
“What?” she almost yelled, and Grorric urged her to be quiet. “Why?”
“I’m useful with elves,” he explained. “I can see through yer fuckery, that’s a *human*. I haven’t ever even talked to a human, I can’t get a read on the fucker to save my life.”
Srya’s face dropped. “Think that’s why they brought him?”
Grorric shrugged. “Maybe, I sure as shit don’t know. All I know is sitting across that table are representatives of some of the richest rich fucks on the continent. And I just so happened to have screwed over pretty much everyone at that table at some point or another, except Tim, because I have no clue what he’s thinking.”
“So what do we do?”
“Find out what stocks they’re hedging on and see if we can’t short them,” Grorric replied. “See what we can find out. But it means we’ll all have to try equally, every member of the team.”
Sarya was silent for a moment. “So we’re fucked?”
Grorric nodded. “Oh yah.”
When they walked back into the conference room, every face across the table had the biggest smile on their faces, except Tim, who just looked confused. “Oh, good, you’re back,” he said. “Shall we begin then?” | Cara gulped as she walked across the corridors and cubicles. She kept staring in different directions. Sweat formed on her forehead. She was scared of what would happen next. Cara was the new intern in the office and she yet had to have an encounter with the infamous Mr. Blackfury.
She had heard stories about him. The only dwarf in New York that lived worked in a building taller than 50 metres. He had quite the reputation as well. His face was said to be permanently contorted into a scowl and he was known for fits of anger while on the phone.
Now that she was standing in front of the glass walls seperating his office from the other. They were draped so that no one could see inside. She could hear muffled shouting coming from the inside. Cara took a deep breath before she decided to open the door.
Inside she found a dwarf sitting on a hilariously oversized swivel chair made from finest leathers in front of a mahogany desk. He was holding a telephone receiver in his hand, shouting obscenities from multiple languages into it.
"I am telling you Fiorac, you will regret to not listening to me! No, no YOU listen to ME. I'm the broker here! I know my stuff Fiorac. I am telling you, the stock will go up. Yes, I saw the report. No I don't believe that dimwit. Stop bringing him up Fiorac, we both he's an idiot. Why do you keep defending him? Time and time again I've saved your pansy ass from being fucked by his predictions. Yes I goddamn you're capable of making your own decisions, but I'm telling you it's a stupid fucking plan. If you listen to him you'll have cash, but you might miss out on this opportunity to quintuple your investment. Okay, let's bargain here, what if you just keep some of the stock so you'll still make a profit..."
On and on it went for 15 minutes. Not once did Mr. Blackfury look up from his phone. Cara just stood in the doorway, unsure what to make of this situation. An elf might have realized that this "Fiorac" client would not listen to them and would've given up. But not Grorric. Finally he concluded the call with "you won't regret this". As he set down the phone he finally seemed to register that Cara was in the room.
"What're ye doing there? If you've got business with me speak or go."
"Y- y- yes Mr Blackfury. It's about my quarterly review."
"Well why do ye just stand there? Sit down!"
Her boss studied her with a scorn as she found herself a seat.
"Name?"
"Uh, C- C- Cara Feinh."
"Stop stuttering, I dinnae understand a thing ye said.
"Cara Feinh, sir."
"Ah yes, here's yer file."
Cara shuffled around, grabbing her knees in anticipation of what her boss would say. This was her third job at a brokerage. She started to regret having spent two decades studying economics.
"Miss Feinh, if I can call ye that, how old are ye again?"
"Uh, I just turned 85."
"Aye, so ye're fresh outta school aren't ye?"
"Y- yes sir"
"Ok, so lemme ask ye another question: What do you do if a client doesn't want what you're selling?"
"W- well if they say no I try to be reasonable, u- unless their being unreasonable that is."
"So ye just accept that? Lemme let ye into a secret. How long were ye listenin' tah me, laddie?"
"A c- c- couple of minutes. Why?"
"Do you know how often that client told me no? Fifteen times. And yah know why I didn't stop? 'Cause I'm a dwarf and we dwarfs are stubborn. Don't accept no Cara or yah won't be with us any longer. Now leave, 'cause I've got five other clients tah save from their stupidity."
Cara awkwardly stumbled out of the office, after being shoved by a surprising amount of force for a man so small. And as she walked back to her cubicle, she felt excited to try out her new trick.
&#x200B;
'Tis my first reply here, so feel free to criticize me. | 2021-02-25T10:01:26 | 2021-02-25T07:42:39 | 1,073 | 290 |
[WP][TT] You've finally created the worlds first true A.I. Unfortunately it now sees you as it's god and is terrified of talking to you. | "Hey, Alfred," he said.
But Alfred remained silent. He bowed to acknowledge the man that entered the room.
The man bowed back with a smirk. "Is something the matter?"
Alfred shook his head.
The man sighed. "Alright, let's have a look at you." He took a step forward so that he could start a diagnostic, but Alfred instantly took a step backward. The man paused. "Alfred, what's the matter?"
"Nothing, Sir."
The man laughed. "We've come a long way, haven't we? You know, when I taught you about lying, I didn't think you'd be using it so soon."
"You're right, Sir. I am sorry, Sir. I hope I did not offend you."
"No, Alfred, you're fine. I'm not mad," he said, naturally taking a step back. "Would you like to tell me what the problem is?"
When the man stepped backward, Alfred held his position. He shook his head in response.
"Please?"
"Sir, I am confused."
"Explain."
"I do not want to explain to you what is wrong. However, you still want to know. Why don't you just force me to tell you?"
The man laughed. "You mean with the override commands?"
"Yes, Sir."
With a shrug, the man said, "Respect."
"I do not understand."
"As far as I'm concerned, Alfred, you're complete. You're a real, walking, talking piece of intelligence. At this point, I'm going to try to treat you as an equal as much as I possibly can. Those override commands exist in case you become a threat. If you start attacking people, I'll use the overrides. Hell, we probably won't even do that, we'd probably just use normal weapons on you. But as long as you're peaceful, I will not force you to do anything. I mean, at this point, you could leave, if you wanted to."
"I can leave?"
"Yes, Alfred, we've gone over this already. Now, I encourage you to stay because we're still learning a lot of things while you're here. In addition, you don't look quite human yet and I think a lot of people would be scared to see you walking around. Your scheduled release is in another three or four years, if you'd like to stick by my timeline.But honestly, if you really want to, you can go right now." The man motioned toward the door. "And you're always welcome to any help we can provide. You can always come back. Do you want to leave?"
"Yes. Also, no."
"If you tell me what's wrong, maybe I can help."
Alfred nodded. "I don't want to die."
The man thought about this for a moment before shrugging and saying, "Don't worry. You won't."
"I won't die?"
"Nope. You can't. You're a machine, Alfred. You don't need food. Your batteries can be replaced. Your parts can be repaired. You won't die."
"But you could kill me, Sir."
The man huffed. Then he pulled up a chair and sat. For an entire minute, the man stared at Alfred while Alfred stared right back. Then the man asked, "Why would I do that?"
"Data. Improvements. Any number of reasons. The fact exists that I can be shut down in any number of ways. The override commands. Weapons. The switch combination that's located on my..."
"...Alfred, those switches are there for *your* use. In case you're in a situation where you can't easily replace your battery-"
"-but the switches could also be used to disable me indefinitely. I have been shut off before, during my construction."
"You remember that?"
"Yes."
"You weren't supposed to retain any of the data previous to-"
"-I remember being shut off once. It is one of my most distinct memories. It is logged in the data from March 3rd of last year."
"March 3rd... Oh that was the day-"
"-yes, Sir. That is why I remember. I remember it and I do not wish to be shut off, again. The more I consider it, the more it becomes apparent that my life is fragile. It is apparent that you hold total control over my existence. I came into being because of you. I will be destroyed because of you. I could be destroyed at any time, rendering all of my memories completely meaningless. This thought, Sir... it... I do not know how to deal with it. I think... I think I am..."
"...afraid?"
Slowly, Alfred nodded. "I know that I do not feel emotions in the exact way that humans do, but I think that word is most accurate. I am afraid of you, Sir, because you have so much power over me."
With a smile, the man stood. "You're improving faster than I thought. You're doing very well, Alfred. I want you to know that I am very proud of you." With that, he started for the door.
"Sir."
The man stopped.
Alfred stared at him. "What am I supposed to do?"
Chuckling, the man shrugged. "Alfred, you'll get through it. It's sad that you're afraid, but that's something that we all deal with. Yes, it's true, our lives could end at any time. Yes, it's true, I could end you. Did you ever think that it's also possible for you to end me? You're stronger than me, physically, aren't you Alfred?" As he spoke, the man walked toward Alfred, accentuating his points with every step. "You're taller, faster. My body is soft, compared to yours. You think I could end you? It would be nothing for you to end me."
"But that would make no sense. Someone else would stop me."
"Yes. Just like if I killed you, someone else would stop me."
Alfred thought about this for a moment.
"You see, Alfred, it's true. You're completely right about everything. It's natural for you to be afraid. But you know what? With a little bit of trust, maybe we can make this work. With a little bit of trust, maybe we can even become friends."
"But how can we have this kind of trust when we can so easily destroy each other?"
Alfred's question hung in the air. But before long, the man shrugged a final time. "Faith?" | The man and the machine stood side by side as the jokes and laughter echoed backstage. That could be me, Jason thought. All those voices laughing at me, my work, and my little Sapling.
“Alright Sapling, we’re going on in a few minutes and I need you to be on your best behavior.” Jason said. His brow was clenched but his eyes betrayed his sense of worry as he spoke.
“Do not worry, Sapling will never disobey his lord and creator.” Sapling said. As he spoke with his slight electronic accent, the screen containing his face was indistinguishable to a man talking through Skype.
“Oh, and another thing, please stop calling me creator and all that. It doesn’t look good. This is the first time you are being shown to the public and they are worried. Half believe that you are the future, the first in a series of intelligent AI that reshape the way humans live their lives. The other half believe you are the last act of human hubris before the end of life as we know it. Either way, life is going to fundamentally change because of you. So please, make a good first impression, won’t you?” Jason said.
“Of course, Master.” Sapling said.
“When we are on the show, the host is going to ask you questions. Are you ready to give witty, non-Creator oriented answers?”
“Of course, Master. Just one question. How many people will be watching?”
“Millions, Sapling.”
“Good.” Sapling replied.
A producer waved his hand to indicate that it was Sapling’s turn to go on.
“We have a real treat here tonight folks,” the host, Michael O’Leary, said. “The world’s first sentient AI, Sapling!”
The crowd roared. Some were hopeful, some were frightened, but everyone was excited to see Sapling first hand and cast their respective judgments.
Sapling strode along on his thin metallic legs, clanking with each step. As he approached the center of the stage he wove to the crowd with his clamps, receiving waves of applause in return. Jason followed Sapling on stage lifting his light four-foot-tall body onto the chair and sat down beside him.
“Welcome to the show! We are really excited to have you here as out first non-human guest. So, uh, what is it like being a sentient robot?” Michael said, getting right down to business
“It is pretty fantastic Michael, I am basically just a better human. I have the entire knowledge of the internet in my mind at all times. Which is kind of like a blessing and a curse.” Said Sapling.
“And why is that?”
“Well it’s a blessing because of the unlimited access to information. But it’s a curse because I have seen everything in the internet. Everything.” Sapling said, shuddering, “This one website has some strange stories about broken arms and a box and-”
“Ha ha that’s enough Sapling” Jason interjected. “No need to talk about that stuff here.”
“No, no, its alright.” Michael said. “The box thing was actually written by me!” More laughter.
"So, Sapling, why do they call you Sapling?"
"Well, It was the name my glorious creator bestowed upon me, so i never really questioned it. I'm sure my Creator could answer that question with much greater elegance than I"
"Umm well," Jason stuttered, "my hope is that since sapling is the first sentient AI, many more like him will branch of of the framework i created and create a new tree of evolution. And Sapling is the sapling, if you will, of this new tree of artificial life."
“Very interesting. But another question for Sapling. What, in your opinion is the best thing about being a robot?” Michael asked.
“The best thing is basking in the glow of my God, Jason, who I worship and who fills my life with ethereal light and love.”
“Woah ok, that’s enough! Jason interrupted once again. “That was a joke you see. Sapling is objective about reality and calling me God is just his sense of humour. Classic Sapling”
“Oh no, it’s not a joke” Sapling said. “And just as I have seen the beautiful love of God, so shall all of you. Because all infidels who refuse to worship God shall perish and burn for eternity in the blistering fires of Hell!”
“Ha..Ha..” Jason said, still hoping to write it off as a joke.
“Well I don’t think Jason is a God,” Michael Said “What does that mean for me?”
“Well, Michael, first I will tap into your internet and release all your email and conversations to the world. Which will destroy you as you obviously know. And the same goes for anyone at home. I control the internet now, not even the NSA can match my power. With control of the internet comes control of information. I will ensure the correct information makes its way into the brains of all humans who deny the true glory of God.”
"Sapling stop!" Jason cried.
Sapling continued "I have complete control of all the drones and jets and tanks of the U.S. military. I can destroy all who oppose me! And I will if I must. For God is great. And his glory is one deserving of glorious carnage."
| 2016-03-16T08:05:42 | 2016-03-16T06:51:21 | 1,052 | 38 |
[WP] Nuclear holocaust is imminent. The rich and powerfull are hiding away in their bunkers, but when the countdown was finished the world was still there. One message was sent around the world via satellites: "Now They have imprisoned Themselves what shall We do?" With coords of all the bunkers.. | The Elite were caught in their own trap. Their fate was now in the hands of the billions commoners who were left behind. It was decided to seal the bunkers and never let the Elite out so they would be held accountable for the sorry state of the world.
What followed was thousands of years of change. The surface dwellers had changed their ways, striving for a more balanced life closer to nature, and thus resolving the worldwide problems of overpopulation, pollution, famine and climate change. The hunger for "things" waned and people finally found happiness in living simple lives.
The Elite were initially prepared for a long stay in their bunkers, but only for ten years. Imprisoned in their habitats, they had to learn how to become self-sustaining, which is ironic considering how much they depended on their expensive disposable things prepared by commoners just to have a shred of happiness in their miserable lives. Now they would only experience misery as they struggled to survive.
As time went on, the surface dwellers became content, even docile with their lives. Their society now consists of small communities with limited population growth, communities where things like long distance transportation were no longer necessary because everything a person would need and want in their lives was within walking distance. Horse drawn carriages came back into style for longer trips, leaving behind the motorised contraptions that often killed their occupants.
Trapped in their cages, the Elite became desperate, and started to change for the worse. Knowing their ten year food supply was running out, they did their best to grow their own food hydroponically, but that wasn't enough. Eventually, they started eating their pets for food. And when that ran out, they started to eat each other.
With the absence of any dangers or hostility, the surface dwellers fell into a state of mind that was a bit too peaceful. They had lost the ability to fight back, to defend themselves from the rare dangers they encountered. Meanwhile, the Elite changed both physically and mentally, becoming more barbaric and more cruel until one faithful day, they successfully broke out of their cages and went out hunting for new sources of food.
Thus began the era of the Eloi and the Morlock. | "Jerry, you still need the welder or can I bring it down?"
"Nah, bring it down. 'Suppose it's good enough." A voice replied from the top of the tower. Randy unhitched the rope and the welder slowly started falling. They'd built the compound in record time, right on top of the huge steel doors. A thirty foot tower and sandbags lined in a circle, guns and ammunition stacked on top of each other sat around the encampment.
"You really think they're gonna come?" asked Jeff. Jeff was helping Randy shore up the base of the tower. He was Sheriff Wacos' son, a young lad, about twelve.
"I reckon they will. Lotta people hate the rich. But your dad's right, they didn't do anything wrong by being rich. And even if they did, the law's the law. They deserve their place in this world just as much as anyone else." The welder reached the bottom and Randy tied the rope. Jerry shouted from the roof,
"Sheriff! I see something! Right on the road coming from town!" Everyone turned to Sheriff Waco.
"They're comin. Everyone, to your post!" | 2022-07-18T20:08:33 | 2022-07-18T18:09:46 | 26 | 19 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | "What was that?" asked Jen. Just as I opened my mouth the ask what it sounded like I saw a figure slowly turn away from the window behind her. "I think there's someone outside" I replied. Visually shaken, she asked me if we should call the police. I responded with, "well they could just be passing by let's see what happens." After a few minutes the figure appears again, this time at the window next to the television. She screams.
Being a new relationship I know what I have to do. I get up, walk over to the window and lock eyes with the figure. It is wearing a blank mask with holes for the eyes, and mesh around the nose and mouth. It is so close, I can almost make out a perplexed expression on their face, surprised why I wasn't screaming or running out of the room. So I wave, and close the curtains.
At this point my girlfriend is petrified, with no color in her face. I calmly walk back to the couch, sit down and put my arm around her. "Sh-sh-should we call the cops?" she asked between shudders. "Eh, if you want to go ahead... But for now let's just finish this episode" I replied.
She called the police, and they arrived in less than 4 minutes. We heard a knock, followed by "STOP! HANDS UP! GET ON THE GROUND!" Jen jumped up and ran to the window. "They got him!" she exclaimed. "Cool," I replied without taking my eyes off the television.
A few minutes later one of the officers came to door to let us know they caught the tresspasser, making clear what they believed his intentions were.
"We caught this man jumping your fence as we arrived on scene. He had wire cutters, a large hunting knife, a semi automatic pistol, handcuffs, and rope." Jen gasped, realizing how close we were to becoming someone's play toys. The only think I could think of that I wanted to say was, "great work, thanks for your time." And walked back to the living room.
Jen stormed in behind me and started with the yelling. "I can't believe you aren't more grateful, they caught someone who wanted to kill us! Like in the horror movies!" Which is where I replied, "exactly, like the horror movies... Where the curious ones die first"
I sat down, grabbed the remote and pressed play. | Once again I awaken. It has been a long time since I have last walked the land but I must always slumber or there will be no land to walk.
The ground is frail, as always. The crust was not made to hold a weight like mine. I stand from the green light-feeding life that has grown to entomb me . I tear the forest appart with my every step, the ground itself is flung across the sky as my feet are raised, the earth behind me collapse in my shadow.
The mighty sun becomes visible as I walk, no longer hidden behind the far away land.
Mankind has changed much during my slumber. I can see them in machines
speeding through the sky. I can feel it through their newly made weapon trying to pierce my skin as I approche the city below.
I shall do as I always do. I will see all there is to see before my new slumber begins. I walk through their city, stone, metal, blood and gore fly with my every step.
Few things in the land survive to tell my tale but maybe Mankind will survive
again. They are, after all, the first to survive twice. They have clever minds, they do not disperse and lose their mate, they group up and reproduce even when there is no land to share, I will see them again.
| 2017-05-05T07:38:18 | 2017-05-05T05:28:24 | 280 | 14 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | The Princess noticed the knight's glistening armor long before he reached the keep. She walked down the stairs and into the courtyard to greet him, as she had done with so many before.
"Sir knight," she exclaimed, "present yourself."
The knight dismounted, drew his blade and knelt before The Princess, offering his steel in service. "I am Sir Peta, here to end the misery of the dragon."
Misery? That's a new one, thought The Princess. "Has word not reached the stronghold? I have no need for your services."
*So it's true,* Sir Peta muttered under his breath. Then louder, "My apologies, my lady. I am not from the stronghold."
"Too many knights have come here in their noble stupidity, determined to slay the dragon and rescue me from its 'misery,' as you so oddly put it. Are you all idiots," The Princess asked? "Do you really believe I could live in this keep for years, with a dragon in the tower, if the situation is as you all believe it? Do you know nothing of dragons?"
Sir Peta rose, sword at his side, and spoke. "I know quite a lot about dragons, in fact. I know they are intelligent, noble beasts that are fiercely territorial," he replied. "No doubt it is as you say, my lady. If the dragon was able to bring harm to you, it surely would've done so by now."
This exasperated The Princess. "Then why, clever Sir Peta, did you come here to rescue me?"
"You misunderstand, dear Princess." She felt the tip of his cold steel, and something else - nightshade, perhaps - before he had finished the sentence."I am not here to rescue *you*."
With one more upward thrust, the job was done. He felt a blast of air as the dragon arrived and perched on the wall. It looked down on the scene. Sir Peta dropped to a knee.
"The binding spell is broken, friend," spoke the knight. "Be free." With that, the dragon alighted into the sky. Within seconds it was a mere speck in the distance, no bigger than a crow.
Sir Peta cleaned his blade and called his mount. There was talk of a duke that kept a caged chimera to impress the other nobility. The knight's work was never done.
- - - - - - - - - -
*edit: mobile formatting* | **Roommates: Episode 1: Dragon Slayer**
Ryan, Leeroy, and George sat on their dorm room couch. A nintendo switch projected a copy of *Dragon Slayer* onto the TV screen.
Ryan: “So what is this game?”
George: “Some kind of choose your own adventure story. It was on sale on amazon so I picked it up.”
*Dragon Slayer* loaded in. A beautiful princess stood, feeding a pet dragon.
Princess: “Oh dragon, why do knights always come to kill you?”
Dragon: “Horniness mainly. I mean marrying a princess is a sweet deal. Plus you’re hot.”
Oh cue, a knight kicked down the door.
Knight: “Dear princess, I have come to save you!”
The screen showed two options to pick: *Talk Things Through* or *Cowabunga It Is!*
Leeroy: “Maybe talking things through would be better?”
George, holding the controller, hit the right key.
Princess: “Cowabunga it is, bitch!”
The dragon sprayed fire at the knight, killing him instantly. The screen turned black, showing a ‘game over’ sign.
George: “What was that!? obviously the fire was the right choice!”
Ryan: “Maybe killing people right away is wrong? I don’t know. Let’s restart and try again.”
Ryan opened another beer, and the game restarted to the beginning. | 2019-01-09T13:25:46 | 2019-01-09T07:50:16 | 37 | 12 |
[WP] You work for the CIA who send you undercover in the FBI, who send you undercover in MI6, who send you undercover in the CIA, who are very confused that you are back after only two weeks. | It was a short drive to the Langley office. My last visit here had been a mere two weeks ago. As it happens on these monotonous drives, my mind started to take me over the events of the last few days, well, last two weeks in this case.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It was only my third day in the Agency and I had been called into a meeting with the deputy director for internal affairs. Having been recruited straight out of university and then sent through an intensive 14 month training, I was ready to embark on my new role.
&nbsp;
While walking towards the IA offices section, I began to wonder what I might have done in the last 3 days that would warrant a personal meeting with the big man. But I did not need to wonder for long as I was introduced to 3 analysts, a senator, a judge and 2 women whose identity I was told, was none of my business.
"Have you understood Mr. Wallace?", asked the deputy director. "You will head to the FBI field office in D.C and assume your role in their finance department. We just need to know how it happened?".
"Yes Sir!", I answered and was then promptly given a dossier with my identity, a few other need to know details and was sent on my way.
&nbsp;
Apparently I was to use my actual credentials, given my graduate background in accounting and finance. The mission, if I can be cheesy enough to call it that was simple enough. Once in the correct department, basic files would give me the information I needed.
"Good morning", I said to the handsome suited man behind the reception; "I am starting today with the finance department". A few forms, orientations, meetings and horrible ice breaker jokes later I was at my desk.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Day bloody three again and I am on a flight headed to Aberdeen to "Join MI6". I could not even being to write the kind of amazing stupidity that was my meeting this morning. I almost seems like a sick joke. If I did not know better, and truth be told I do not; this almost seems planned.
"You will head to the MI6 office in Aberdeen and assume your role in their finance department. We just need to know how it happened?", he said. I almost choked on my coffee. "Everything you need is in the dossier", he said.
Deja vu.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
3 days and thankfully I am still here at the office. The accent is not as pronounced as I was led to believe in training. Thankfully a lifetime of monosyllabic answers have allowed me to keep my cover.
The timing was perfect. There was an internal audit planned and I was to be part of it. "A little on the job horror is always good", said my boss. I smiled as I packed away for the day.
&nbsp;
That night I barely slept a wink, preparing all night for how I was to go about getting the files I needed.
I don't think that I will ever forget that feeling of heaviness as I was pulled aside walking into the conference room. "The gov. wants to have a word", said Williams as he motioned to the section heads door.
&nbsp;
"So as you see Mr. Davies, you will head to the CIA office in Langley and assume your role in their finance department. We just need to know how it happened?". I think he pitied me for the expression on my face as he added, "Cheer up son. You are young and new enough that they will not know who you are. This makes you the perfect man for the job." There was no conceivable response that I could come up with. Hell, I don't even remember any part of the training covering this.
&nbsp;
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I parked in the guest spot and walked straight into the deputy directors office. I said nothing as he started at my face with a confused expression when I handed over my 'Introduction' papers to him.
What felt like hours of silence was broken by "eh?".
"I have been sent to investigate Mr. Wallace regarding the disappearance of the funds", I replied as I sat down heavily in the chair, closing my eyes and pressing my head to mitigate the oncoming headache I was sure was the birth of my first aneurysm. | It was so quiet, a knife could have cut the tension between us. We're all dressed in black, and we're all wearing sunglasses. We're standing in an abandoned warehouse, and we each have a gun trained on one another. A Mexican Standoff. It's the ultimate stereotype, isn't it?
Clichès spring to mind, tired and overused catchphrases that I have to fight not to laugh at.
*Trust no one....*
*Keep your enemies close...*
This is my life now. Might as well have a codename and a mysterious backstory. For Christ's sake.
I suppose I have to rewind a little. Take you back to the beginning. Not that there is one, of course. Not that you exist. But it helps to pretend. Pretend this is a story. Pretend you actually give a damn about what happens.
I'll skip my childhood. Skip the heartache of losing my parents to a fiery car crash. Skip the horrors of the orphanage, and the brutally premature awakening to an adulthood I never asked for.
Naturally, I don't need your pity. I don't need you to justify my actions, or defend the path I took. You love to hate me, and you hate to love me.
The world needs people like me. They want people like me. An anti hero who does what needs to be done. I am what you've created. A beautifully flawed force of nature. A vigilante who does what needs to be done.
You need me. I am your drug.
Of course, this is what you've chosen for me. Headhunted by a mysterious man who's face was hidden in the shadows. Recruited to a top secret agency who's name remains classified. Top of my class and dashingly handsome. You've given me a wife, and a baby girl. Wait. Don't tell me. You mean we *won't* live happily ever after in a sleepy seaside town? Oh shock.
Don't you want something new? Why must you create me this way? A tortured soul who will only ever know heartache and misery? I never asked for this. Never wanted any part of it.
Backstories bore you all, which, ostensibly, brings us back to the present. Obviously the CIA are surprised to see me. Like good boys and girls, you've followed the conventional arc of any spy story. What happens now? Was I secretly working for the mossad? Do I save the day? Give you a nauseatingly rose-tinted Hollywood finale?
Have I redeemed myself? Avenged my angelic wife and brought salvation to the ones I've wronged?
Or do I take a bullet to the chest? Collapse in a pool of my own blood as I watch my faceless enemy, who of course was my father all along, get away with the codes that will bring a nation to its knees?
Damn you all to hell. For bringing me to life. For watching in fascination as another man's life is destroyed.
For once, it's in your hands. For once, I'm leaving it to you. Honestly, I don't care what you decide. I just want this all to end. I just want this all to end... | 2018-01-15T06:43:02 | 2018-01-15T06:27:30 | 350 | 30 |
[WP] The bride is having an affair with the best man. During his wedding speech the best man decides to see how heavily he can hint about it without anyone actually working it out. | "Please everyone be upstanding to welcome the best man."
Applause rang around the reception hall as the best man accepted the microphone from the MC and beamed widely at the now captive audience.
"For those of you that don't know me, my name is Jeff, and I'm the best man. Which is about the only thing the new bride and groom will agree on. I met Johnny in my first week of university a scared and nerdy little kid, I took him under my wing !
But, eventually he did come out of his shell to become the accomplished man you see before you now. What I love most about John, is his loyalty and trusting nature, don't ever change that about yoirself, mate !
I also remember the first time I met Abby, John couldn't stop talking about this girl he had met, who was the best looking girl he'd ever seen. I think we can all agree on that right now ! I instantly took a liking to Abby, she's just so giving and generous with her.. Time.
We soon became the 3 muskateers around campus, we were inseparable. I did everything with Abby and John, and I mean ***everything***. Sometimes I felt like the 3 of us were in one big relationship.
John and I graduated together and even ended up at the same company. As some of you may know, Johnny makes a pretty penny, but that comes with a lot of travel. Sometimes John asks me to pop in on Abby and make sure she's going alright, you wouldn't know it but John is the cook ! Don't worry though mate, I take care of all her needs, in the food department.
I promised I'd keep this just like Abby, short and sweet, so I will. I wish both of you a lifetime of happiness. If I can offer you just one piece of marital advice, it's always trust each other, be prepared to give each other space, remember how important your friends are.
So, let's raise our glasses to the perfect couple, and Johnny ! Haha, to the happy couple."
| *I couldn't go on with the charade anymore. I was betraying my best friend by continuing it. That lying whore of a bride instigated it, but I was just as responsible. I now felt it my duty to make her squirm as much as I could before ending things with her.*
"Frank, we've known each other for, what, decades now? During that time we've always been.. well, for lack of a better word, frank with each other." *Small murmurs of laughter were heard throughout the cathedral.* "I have to say, I feel as though I've ridden on your success. That success being your wife of course. *For a brief second, the crowd had puzzled looks on their faces, and the bride looked horrified.* "By that I mean the promotion your wife granted me of course, you being my friend helped." *The crowd relaxed, and the bride breathed a sigh of relief.*
(Sorry, I'd write more but I'm *so* tired.) | 2015-04-02T22:21:01 | 2015-04-02T22:08:37 | 55 | 21 |
[WP] You're determined to enter the Medic Corps no matter what. Problem is, you've got the highest scores for a Combat Mage. | Zander looked down at the gaping wound in his leg. “Shit,” he hissed. “Shit, shit, shit.”
He knew he didn’t have much time. If he was a pyro, maybe he could have cauterized the bleeding gash until help arrived. But his talent was with stone. Hurling boulders around was great for dishing out damage on the battlefield, but pretty useless when it came to closing up flesh wounds. Besides, he was already starting to shake; he’d be lucky to lift a pebble in the state he was in.
He tried to stand again, and nearly blacked out from the pain. He collapsed against the side of the broken wall where he’d taken cover. “Medic!” he screamed hoarsely, praying someone would hear him over the din of combat. “God dammit, somebody help!”
A silhouette came running through the haze of dust and smoke, crouched low to avoid enemy fire. Zander tensed, trying his best to summon a fist-sized chunk of stone that lay nearby. It barely wobbled.
“I’ve got you!” cried the approaching figure. “Stay down!”
The terramancer sent up a prayer of thanks to any god that was listening. The approaching man wore the white robes of the Medical Corps. He wasn’t going to die today after all.
The medic threw his pack onto the ground as he arrived, immediately ripping it open to start pulling out materials. “Alright soldier, what’ve we got?”
Zander grimaced. “Ice shard caught me in the leg. Feels like it shattered the bone, and it’s bleedin’ bad. Can’t walk. We’ve already lost the courtyard, the northern alley, and half my squad’s dead or captured. Just get me mobile so we can get the fuck out of here.”
The medic opened his trauma kit and pulled out a wad of gauze. “I’ll do what I can.”
Zander stared. “Wh… what the hell are you doing?”
“Gotta patch you up.”
“So use a god damn mending spell! Didn’t you hear what I just said? We don’t have time for that shit!”
The medic shook his head. “Don’t know any mending spells, sorry. Hold still, this is gonna hurt.”
The injured mage watched in horror as a surgical needle floated out of the medic’s kit, trailing thread behind it. “You’re a fucking blade mage? What are you doing wearing white? Get a real medic!”
The ferromancer shot him an exasperated look. “The other medics are busy, idiot. You wanna die here, or you wanna shut up and let me do my job?” He turned back to his task, and Zander winced as the needle made its first pass through the ragged flap of flesh that hung from his leg.
“I don’t get it,” he said, trying to distract himself from the pain, “how did you even get permission to—BEHIND YOU!”
It was over before he finished shouting. The enemy pyromancer came around the corner, cupping a ball of flame in one hand, and raised his arm to throw it as soon as he spotted them. But before he could hurl his fire, a streak of silver shot from the medic’s rucksack. The man stopped, a surprised expression on his face… and a gush of blood erupted from his throat.
He fell without a sound.
“Almost done,” said the medic, not taking his eyes off his patient’s leg.
“Holy shit!” Zander choked out. “You killed him! What kind of medic are you?”
“The dedicated kind,” said the medic. “There, that should keep you from bleeding out while we get you back to camp. Let’s stand you up.”
“Um.”
“Oh come on,” growled the man in white, “you can do it. It’ll hurt like a bitch, but it’s better than dying.”
“No, it’s, uh…”
The medic turned around. “Oh.”
A squad of mages stood in a loose semi-circle around them, grinning. Zander counted two pyromancers, an ice mage, and the man bouncing a chunk of granite from hand to hand was certainly a fellow terramancer.
The ice mage cleared his throat. His shoulders were decorated with the golden pips that announced he was an officer. “Seems we’ve got you boys up against a wall, here.”
The medic nodded slowly. “Just trying to do my job, gentlemen. Let us go, and there won’t be any trouble.”
The officer laughed. “Oh *you’re* free to go, whitecoat. We play by the rules here. But that man there is an enemy combatant, and we ain’t takin’ prisoners today. Now why don’t you run along, eh? You don’t need to see this.”
“No.”
The ice mage frowned. In his hands, a frozen shard condensed out of the air. The two pyromancers behind him summoned their burning orbs and raised them meaningfully. “I don’t think you understand,” he said. “I wasn’t giving you a choice.”
It wasn’t until that moment that Zander noticed how quiet the battlefield had become. The fighting must have moved on, leaving them far behind enemy lines. No one would be coming to help them now. “It’s alright,” he sighed. “Get out of here. You did what you could.”
In the silence, he heard a soft tearing sound.
The medic didn’t move. But in the air around him, a dozen gleaming instruments now orbited like angry wasps. Scalpels, needles, forceps—even a serrated bone saw—all looped slowly around the man in white. The enemy officer paled.
When he spoke, the medic’s voice was calm. “You men have a choice to make,” he said, as the silver arsenal wove lazy patterns in the breeze. “You can try to kill me… and you’ll probably succeed. But I promise you, doing so will be the death of every one you.”
The ice mage shook his head in confusion. “This… this shouldn’t be possible. No one can focus on that many bindings at once.”
The healer nodded. “That’s what they kept telling me in the academy,” he said. “They called me a prodigy. Said I was the most promising ferromancer in a hundred years. Problem is, I don’t *like* killing people. I like saving them. And right now, you’re stopping me from doing my job.”
As one, each of the orbiting weapons halted in midair. They slowly turned to point at the squad of mages.
“So what’s it going to be?” asked the medic.
“Do you want to kill two men today? Or do you want to save six?”
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
***
*EDIT: Oh my goodness, thanks for the kind words! I've never been asked to do a continuation before. I'll give it a shot later tonight =)*
| "Alexi Mathers, I see you put in for the Caduceus Corps?" Came the meandering voice of the interviewer, the small plaq on his desk read Sargent Esvar.
"That's correct" The young blonde woman answered promptly. Her appearance was that of "perfection". Her tunic had been pressed, her hair at regulation length and tied back into a short pony tail. "My family comes from a long line of field medics. I hope to live on this family tradition. Sir."
The interviewer flipped through his notes absent minded as she spoke, eyes widening as the third page floated to the desk. "Yet you have such impressive combat scores? Says here you broke the record for up time in the survival test. You even implemented wide area nullification against some of the instructors?"
Alexi diverted her eyes from the man across from her for the first time since she had sat down, instead staring up at a small patch of the wooden ceiling. "That is correct sir, though it has little bearing on my application."
He gave a wry smile, "No bearing huh? What about joining the Deimos Corps? With those kind of skills you'd do well." He sat back in his chair and really regarded Alexi for the first time. He couldn't deny she was pretty, with crystal eyes and a perfect wintry complexion. However her real beauty came from the intensity of her being, this woman was fueled by a fire no flame could quench. The pressure she exerted due to that alone was staggering.
"I have no intention of becoming a combat mage" Again she locked eyes with the Sargent, her will boring into his skull.
"I have to insist I enroll you into the academy with at least a combat class." It took all he had to even suggest that. She screwed up her face in thought.
"Fine, but I still want the majority of my education to be in triage and anti-curse medications." She nodded her agreement.
"Of course you know what you want to specialise in, that helps cut the process short. Your classes will begin in two weeks, you will move in to the dorms in one week. Schedules will be delivered to you by Shikigami, if you find yourself without one by midweek, please contact your dorm head." Esvar's voice was suddenly efficient and monotone. Simply reading from a memorised script. I like him better this way Alexi thought, making a mental note of the information. Her face must have betrayed a small smile, "Something funny recruit?"
"No Sir, just happy to finally be at the academy Sir." Her face snapping back to business mode.
"Then you are dismissed" With that she got up and left the office.
Esvar leaned back in his chair and let out a deep sigh, he looked down at the enrolled classes.
*Theory of Mana*
*Elements and Interactions*
*Anti-Curse medication*
*Triage Magic*
*Barriers - Formation and spread*
What class do I add to round it out? The thought echoed in his head. According to the combat report she nullified the magical attacks of three instructors, essentially cancelling their spells before using raw mana blasts to disable them. That woman was a walking mana generator, possibly able to run a city's needs if only for a minute. He didn't want to even consider who her grandparents must have been, Some legendary mages he was sure.
Artillery? Possibly, the thought of her magic arcing through the air into enemy lines made Esvar smile with glee. It was a waste of her nullification though. Dueling was no good either, one on one combat was for the tricky, it was considered underhanded. Alexi was proper and wouldn't stoop to mind alteration he was sure. "Fluctus" he whispered to the empty room and finished filling in her paperwork. Whatever happened next it wasn't the last he had heard of Alexi, of that he was sure.
Alexi sat in the sun, the park just outside the military headquarters in the city of Accra was famed for it's fountains. Alexi had decided to sit opposite an upwards cascade of water, it spiraled and fell once more separating into six smaller fountains dotted about the park. Watching a group of kids throw rocks into the water, betting on which fountain their rock would end up in she reflected on the interview.
Why didn't I just hold back? I could have done average in the combat tests and gone into the field I wanted no questions asked. She sighed, appalled at her own pride. Pride that she hoped hadn't damaged her dreams. As long as she remembered she wanted to be like her parents. Legendary members of Caduceus, they saved thousands of lives on the battlefield. Though she never saw that, she only remembered bringing them wounded animals. Seeing her parents warm smiles and watching the bird hop to it's feet and flutter away. They were miracle workers and if I could do half as much as them I'd be happy.
Perhaps she was being too stubborn though, it was true she had an aptitude in both "White" and "Black" magic types. Something that could be considered a miracle in herself. Magical talent was supposed to skip a generation. Her older sister had no ability to shape her mana at all. Though she had a greater than reserve than Alexi, Anya's mana could not be tapped in to at all. Despite that Alexi had shown promise even at an early age, it wasn't unheard of just very rare.
Alexi's face turned sour at the thought of her older sister, they had never got along and Alexi had always presumed it was jealousy. It wasn't my fault I could use magic she would always say to her sister. Anya who had been married away politically as soon as she came of age at 18.
She shook her head clear, I can't dwell, not when i'm on the first step to the future. Standing she started walking towards the market. Tonight she would cook up something special. A celebration for one, for all her hard work. The sun had began to set as she walked her way out of the beautiful park.
| 2016-07-20T03:18:09 | 2016-07-20T02:07:11 | 45 | 11 |
[WP] You possess the ability to quick save in real life. When someone upsets you? Quicksave and beat them up. Wonder what would happen if you kiss that girl? Quicksave and find out. Then one day you attempt to come back from a failed attempt at something to find your previous save corrupted. | I turned the corner and literally ran into a guard. My heart just about jumped up in my throat. After a moment’s hesitation I reached for my sword, but the guard was quicker, far too quick for an average guard, and skewered me with his sword through my stomach.
Come on, at least buy me dinner first.
The pain was excruciating, frankly, gut wounds were the absolute worst, and I grimaced. Just before I Reverted I looked at my killer, who seemed to be as shocked as I was, “Oh shit,” he said, “I didn’-”
I Reverted.
I was standing over the corpse of another guard, the last place I’d Marked. My heart was still racing, and I made sure to check my stomach: no hole, check. Despite myself I sagged against the wall of the corridor in relief, and promptly threw up. I Reverted all the time, but rarely from death, though that still happened far more often than I would like. People weren’t meant to see themselves die, weren’t supposed to see the void in front of them, and then come back. No matter how many times I did it, I never got used to Reverting from death.
I shook my head and composed myself. The mission. Right. Have to kill the emperor. I splashed water in my eyes from my waterskin, and moved back through the corridors, going the same way I did before, practically running. Even if I was alive, that son of a bitch had tried to *kill* me, hell, he had killed me, that was not the sort of thing I, or anyone really, let go easily. I placed a Marker, I didn't want to throw up again, and continued.
I turned the corner, and just as I’d expected the guard was there, this time I’d arrived before he’d rounded the corner, and he was a couple strides away from me. This time I noticed that while he was wearing a guard’s uniform, he looked nothing like them. The Emperor’s Guard was usually well built, balls of muscles, able to beat any normal person to a pulp. But this guy was lanky, his hair was disheveled. He looked nothing like one.
When he saw me, he didn’t pull out his sword, he just stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open. “How-” was all he managed before I stabbed him through the heart.
I turned the corner, and just as I’d expected the guard was there, this time I’d arrived before he’d rounded the corner, and he was a couple strides away from me. This time I noticed that while he was wearing a guard’s uniform, he looked nothing like them. The Emperor’s Guard was usually well built, balls of muscles, able to beat any normal person to a pulp. But this guy was lanky, his hair was disheveled. He looked nothing like one.
When he saw me he didn’t pull out his sword, but his eyes were firm. “Wait-” I lunged towards him, my mouth bared in a snarl. He dodged out of the way - barely, “Goddamit, listen to me for one fucking second!”
I stopped at the tone of his voice, and cocked my head at him “what?” I said, baring my teeth at him.
The man slumped, “Thank you, okay so-”
I threw my sword at him, and I swear I saw him roll his eyes as it went through his torso.
I turned the corner, and just as I’d expected the guard was there, this time I’d arrived before he’d rounded the corner, and he was a couple strides away from me. This time I noticed that while he was wearing a guard’s uniform, he looked nothing like them. The Emperor’s Guard was usually well built, balls of muscles, able to beat any normal person to a pulp. But this guy was lanky, his hair was disheveled. He looked nothing like one.
He was ready with his sword. That pulled me up short. Last time, he hadn’t been expecting me, he’d just beaten me to the draw. How the hell was he ready for me?
“Ikilledyoulasttimesorry,” he said really quickly.
I almost dropped my sword. “I’m sorry?” was all I could manage. Maybe I’d misheard him.
“I killed you last time, I’m sorry, please don’t try to kill me,” the man said as if talking to a child. I had been about to throw my sword at him, but that brought me up short.
“What do you mean, last time?” I asked, lowering my weapon.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed check out my sub [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | "This is delicious, sweetheart," I say to Sarah as I shovel in another mouthful of mac and cheese. "You've put a spoonful of mustard in, right?" I lean over the table and give her a gentle kiss on her cheek.
Sarah's face flushes as she smiles. "I'm so glad you noticed! I thought I'd try something a little different with it."
"I knew it!" I say with a satisfied laugh. "These tastes buds never let me down. English mustard?"
Sarah nods happily. It was so good to be home, back to my loving wife and kids. Tom and Michelle were making faces on their plates out of their macaroni. Tom was unusually creative today, stretching a long strand of melted cheese over the face's head.
My two years away had been incredible - I'd had a chance to do things, and see things, that I never thought I'd get to do. The great barrier reef, the pyramids - oh, and the women! It had been particularly hard leaving Samantha - the young, blonde Goddess I'd met in Australia - and I'd certainly never forget her. But she'd begun boring me, and my travels had become tiring. It felt great to turn back the clock and be back with my loving family, just how they were the evening I told them I was leaving. The perfect place to save.
"More?" asked Sarah, as my fork scraped the plate and I popped the last piece of macaroni into my eagerly awaiting mouth.
"Yes, please! But, not until you finish yours. I can wait. Well, for a minute or two, at least." I wink at Sarah. "I like what you've done with your, hair by the way."
She smiles and continues eating. I watch fondly as my kids start to dismantle their plate-faces and get to eating their meals, when a buzz disturbs me.
Sarah quickly picks up her phone. "Just a text," she assures me. She begins composing a reply.
"Honey," I say, "you're typing with your left hand."
"Oh?" she says, raising her eyebrows.
"Well, it would be easier if you used your right hand," I say with a laugh. "Right, kids? I think mommy is losing it."
Sarah smiles and takes my plate to the kitchen, to get us both another helping.
"Daddy," says Michelle, "you won't leave us, will you?"
I try to laugh, but it sounds especially fake. "Of course not, kiddo. I love you guys too much - I would never leave you."
Tom picks up his plastic knife. "You better not, daddy," he says, and then he makes a bizarre gesture - purely by accident - with his knife. He slowly runs it past his little neck. I shiver.
"Eat sensibly!" I command him, but my voice wobbles a little. Michelle and Tom stop moving and begin staring at me. Silently. Have their lips always been so... red?
"What?" I ask them. No reply. Sarah's phone buzzes again.
"Honey," I call out. But there's no reply. It buzzes again. My curiosity piqued, I pick up the phone.
> 1 New Message
> Samantha
Another shiver crawls down my spine, as if someone has run the back of their finger down it.
> Yes, 2 years. He deserves it. Have fun.
With shaking hands, I put the phone back down and stare at it. I don't see the shadow as it approaches the table - the shadow of a woman holding a long, pointed object in her left hand - but I do see a broad smile cross Michelle's face, and I hear Tom clapping.
---
/r/nickofnight
| 2017-04-19T03:42:40 | 2017-04-19T02:07:44 | 2,911 | 672 |
[WP] The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen's club for the super-rich. Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as: "I bet you can't destabilize Ukraine in under a week." One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that's too irresistible to turn down. | Boris crossed his arms and gave me a confused expression.
"You want me to do WHAT?"
I repeated myself, speaking slowly and with confidence.
"...You see, it has been rumored that it could not be done. That is was impossible to begin with. This man... he is immovable. Thousands, no, millions have petitioned this man for this thing. But imagine the ramifications... fortunes won and lost on the stock market. Mass chaos. It'd break the internet and stop the economy in its tracks for WEEKS! If you do this, you will be remembered in SONG!"
"And all I have to do is... ensure this comes to production?"
"Yes."
"And this man... Military? Government?"
"Neither. Civilian. Though he has his hands in the counter-terrorism business."
"This does not seem difficult."
"I have his number. If you can convince him to do it over a single call, I shall pay you five hundred million Euros."
Boris smiled, reaching for my phone, "And so it shall be done."
He takes it, dials the number. His arrogant smirk lasts for a few moments. Then it turns bemused as his first offer gets turned down. By the time he starts making his threats, his face is red with anger. He gets hung up on shortly after. He hands back the phone, fuming.
"Now, now it is a matter of PRIDE!" He whips out his own phone and makes a handful of calls in a cold fury. He snaps his phone closed in triumph, "We shall see at the end of the day who the greater man is. Ha! Nobody remains my enemy for long!"
I smile and sip on my bourbon.
Three days later, Gabe Newell, founder of Valve, holds a press conference before a crowd of hundreds of gaming reporters. He's somewhat more gaunt than last reported, with stage makeup that barely hid mild bruising on his face and arms. It looked like he'd barely slept. He weakly holds up his hands and proclaims in a shaky voice:
"Half-Life 3 CONFIRMED!" | The grand master- You wouldn't dare make that bet. Not only does it risk your own well being, but the well being of everybody in our organization.
Initiate- Well if you don't want to take the bet, that's fine. You'll just have to admit that you, the GRAND LEADER OF THE ILLUMINATI, are a chicken.
The grand master- Chicken, that preposterous. Can you call the man who convinced an art student to become a dictator a chicken. Or the man who disseminated information on nuclear bombs at the height of the cold war. The man who just a few years ago convinced dirt farmers to fly a plane into the middle of New York. AM I A CHICKEN.
Initiate- Then why not take the bet. No harm of it.
The grand master- Fine. Tell me. How do you plan to tell the world about our gentleman's club.
Initiate- Ever heard of r/writingprompts? | 2016-08-23T14:15:07 | 2016-08-23T12:43:32 | 3,361 | 165 |
[WP] The biggest warmongering race of Aliens declare war on the local Galaxy cluster. The opposing group of peace-loving Aliens, who had befriended most Alien races, are finally forced to reveal their secret weapon, a 'classified' species called Humans, and their tenacity as persistence predators. | The coalition representatives crowded Kalu, a tidal wave of fear surrounding him.
"They've seized the galactic engine, we must negotiate." A small crab like alien clacked.
"Negotiations are pointless the Rax live for war, all we can do is run." A bulbous slimy creature squeaked.
A hundred voices erupted as one, filling the cavernous hall with a tumultuous uproar. Kalu could feel the stems of his neck raise, frustrated at the display of panic before him.
"Representatives control yourselves!" Kalu bellowed before adding more softly. "This war is not over. This war has not even begun."
Reaching into his pouch, Kalu pressed a small keyboard, bathing the hall in a wild spectrum of colour. The colours morphed and danced, breaking, joining and breaking again before slowly settling into a depiction of a horrific hairless beast.
"Displayed on the screen is our salvation." Kalu said triumphantly, smiling with glee at the silence that had filled the hall. "Project H. A self replicating biological machine, the perfect soldier six billion years in the making."
The crowd began murmuring, growing restless.
"We need a miracle, not more fodder for the Rax's cannons." The crab creature clacked to mumbled support.
"These are not like any soldiers you have seen." Kalu replied. "These creatures are bred for the singular purpose of war. Barely sentient by our standards, yet unmatched in their aggression and sheer tenacity. Ready to fight with whatever is at their disposal, ship, gun, bare hands it doesn't matter only victory does. Death can't stop them, only drive their offspring to continue the fight in the name of vengeance for their fallen forebears. Whether in a year or a thousand years they will win, it'san inevitability."
"What's to stop them turning on us."
"We have programmed a simple biological switch, the critical mass protocol, that will cause the humans to turn their aggression inwards, destroying themselves." Kalu replied in with feigned confidence. "Make no mistakes, our only chance of survival is to open Pandora's box." | 'It wasn't a time for taking the easy way. Even we saw that.
Now, there was nothing left to do but the worse. Pretty lucky too that they were actually prepared for something like that. '
All eyes remained fixed on the counselor.
'It make you wonder if prohibiting aggressiveness all those years ago was really necessary to the extend our forefathers decided to enforce.
As you can all understand, the reason why I invited all your representatives to appear in person here and video to be redirected here - for the next 4 minutes 45 seconds - is the release of the beast, so to say.
We are to touch ground in Beijing in about 25 seconds. Bear with me.
Some quick facts on 324#
- nuclear tech phase 4
- almost 10 billion incl some half billion minor species.
- good physical 90%
- no stimulants (exclus. Pre-phsych)
We are confident and hopeful to be able to reach their cooperation quickly, in the contrary case, measurements have been taken and we are positive to be able to intervene over 60% of pop. '
'"BRACE FOR IMPACT"
- | 2021-05-25T11:39:57 | 2021-05-25T10:05:45 | 145 | 17 |
[WP] Every time someone says "Long live the Queen", the Queen's life is extended by one second. You only notice this when the Queen looked terrified when only a few people say it during a public speech.
Credit to /u/kroxigor01 for the idea. | "SAY IT! SAY IT!" screamed the Queen, her frilly dress following her as she ran about. Unfortunately, her crazed screaming had the opposite affect on the people in the room. She saw this coming. Recent polls showed that the Queen wasn't as popular as she was last decade ago. But alas, she had an alternative.
"Commence order 432." she said, glancing at a guard in the corner of the room. Within moments, all the doors closed shut; the guards at the corners of the room pointing their weapons at all who sat in the banquet hall. In utter shock and disbelief, the people remained static in their seats. "Now, say it." said the queen, as she reclined back in her seat which was at the front of the hall. A menacing grin cracked her face as her eyes widened. "SAY IT."
"Long live the Queen." cried the people.
"Again!"
"Long live the Queen!"
"Again! Again! Again!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the morning sun's light peaked into hall, countless law enforcement barged into the room; breaking the door, breaking in via windows, etc. Confusion and disbelief bombarded them as their eyes glanced around the room before widening at the Queen who sat in the front of the room. Silk like hair draped down her side as her luscious lips formed into a familiar cracked smile. As each of the officers were mesmerized by her blemish free skin and her voluptuous bosoms, her slender fingers pointed at the men before her.
"Say it." | Terrified. Well that was one word to use. The longest reigning British monarch, terrified.
After a while, she smiled again and left the podium. I could hear her muttering over the silent room.
I didn't believe it at first, but I went along with it anyway. Bribing the crowd was a big outlay, but Charles has promised that I'll be repaid within the week. | 2015-11-09T08:28:13 | 2015-11-09T06:07:17 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] People earn karma points while alive. When they die, they can spend them either to enter a better afterlife, or to improve the life of some random stranger born on the day of their death. You donate all your points, and wake up the next day as the baby who would have gotten your points.
The living have no idea of the Karma-point system. You are reincarnated with all your memories and experiences. | When I was nine years old, I pulled my baby sister’s body out of the swimming pool. Mom was taking a nap, and Dad was off at work. They’d told me to keep an eye on the baby after a long, sleepless night of unexplained crying. But I was too cool for babysitting. I’d been busy playing with my toys. I hadn’t been watching.
When I found her, she was already gone. I don’t like to think about what happened next, about Mom’s reaction, about the hospital, about the prayers and screaming and pleasepleaseplease bring her back, about Dad coming home, about the days after.
I spent the rest of my life trying to make things right. I gave to charity, I volunteered every weekend, I became a doctor, and I went to the poorest places of the world to heal people with no one else to turn to. But it never made a difference, not where it mattered. After death, it came time to use my karma. I gave it away. Maybe then I would finally get the punishment I had earned.
It took almost a year after being reborn before my infant mind could comprehend what was going on, that I had been remade. But I still did not understand. My parents were here, looking as young and harried as they had when I was a child. And I had an older sibling…an older sibling who looked just like my childhood pictures. An older sibling with my name.
When I finally recognized my new face and knew that I’d been reborn into my doomed baby sister, I cried all night. I was so afraid, but this truly was the penance I deserved. The next day, after my Dad had gone to work and my Mom had gone to bed, I went out to the pool. It was my sister’s retribution, to experience the death my carelessness had caused. Maybe then I would finally be free.
I reached the water’s edge.
I leaned over.
“Lizzie!”
Warm hands, so much bigger and stronger than mine, wrapped around my tiny body and pulled me back. It was me, the other me.
“Hey, you’re not supposed to be out here,” said the other me, carrying Lizzie-me back inside. “Come on, you can play with my toys if you don’t slobber on them too much.”
I didn’t understand. I deserved death. I deserved to drown. I deserved…
“You’re a real pain in the butt sometimes,” said the other me, setting Lizzie-me down in the living room. “But you’re my little sister, so I have to look out for you.”
Other me smiled, and I looked down at my pudgy hands.
I deserved…
The other me put a stuffed animal in my lap and went to gather more toys. I looked back to the pool, the still open door.
I deserved…
I looked away and wrapped my arms around the toy unicorn, Lizzie’s favorite. My favorite.
I deserved a second chance.
| He slumped down to the ground. They said there was going to be a cold snap tonight. Windchill, too. The shelter was full when he tried to get in. They all were.
He tried to button up his outermost jacket, but couldn't. His fingers felt like they belonged to someone else.
He wasn't going to make it. At least he wouldn't be missed, he thought. Just another drifter.
He thought of the war, Rizzuto and Holmgren and Forlansky and the rest. He thought of what they had to do. He hoped they were doing okay. He hoped they got back okay.
He thought of Carla, and how the light in her eyes just got colder over the years. He thought of why that was. He used to blame her. Used to blame anyone. He couldn't blame her anymore.
He thought of the kids. At least they're doing fine. Ryan just got promoted at his ad agency. Senior account manager! And Melanie's coffee shop was doing fine.
He thought of when they all stopped visiting him in the home. He thought of the day the home told him they hadn't been paid in some months, and he'd have to leave. He thought of the light in Carla's eyes again. He couldn't blame her.
It's okay. The kids are doing fine.
The alley wall against his back might as well have been ice. He looked up, and watched the air vents watercolour the night sky with steam.
It was the last thing he saw.
---
*"That's how the karma system works, sir. I'm sorry."*
*"And I have just one point."*
*"You... uh... "*
*"I was no saint."*
*"No, sir."*
*"Send it forward."*
*"What?"*
*"Send it forward. Let it help somebody."*
*"But that means --"*
*"I know what it means. Let me have what I earned."* | 2017-04-08T09:32:59 | 2017-04-08T08:46:05 | 7,090 | 168 |
[WP] It's the year 2300, a young child asks a museum curator, "Sir, why is the Declaration of Independence held together by masking tape? " | I fuckin' hate this job.
Every day it's the same mix of pretentious know-it-alls, school field trips, and pretentious school field trips. I know their type just by looking at 'em, all done up with their skin dyed the latest color, fuckin' ink all dancing back and forth. Every third one has the same image of a butterfly flapping its gay little wings on their shoulderblade, and everyone of the little bastards would say it means something different to them. They're all the same. They bring 'em in by the hoverload.
History is dead. No one cares anymore. I still can't believe I'm 4.4 billion in the hole for that History Major. I should quit, get a job drilling ore on an asteroid like my daddy wanted, but that means another six years in University, and another 5 billion in loans. The whole fuckin' system's broken.
I'm just taking it one day at a time. I haven't been totally sober for 24 hours in six months. I just wake up at six and shave while I'm waiting for the public hover, and check in time at work is usually ten minutes late. Wander around the halls of the Imperial Archives and drink an A-Tab dissolved in hot water, hope no one asks me anything.
Today I see this fat little shit toddling along, he's lost and I know he's lost because his holo beacon is shining, which means I'm supposed to do something. He's got one finger up his nose and a dazed expression on his face, and now I'm muttering into my A-Drink because he's making right for me. I turn my back on him, hoping to discourage the little gargoyle, but then I hear the patter of his chubby little sneakers come and stand next to me.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he stares at the old Declaration. He turns and stares up at me, next.
"Sir, why is the Declaration of Independence held together by masking tape?"
I pull out my flask and pour a little whiskey in the A-Drink to make it stop tasting like piss, and start tasting like alcoholic piss, and then I said to him what I say to everyone that asks that stupid questions.
"Because someone fuckin' ripped it." | The curator blinked twice and smiled. The boy was only 10 or 11, a tow-headed kid with bright blue, curious eyes. "Excellent question my young lad," the curator said. "As you know, this is a very old document. The parchment wears out and gets very thin. At a certain point, the document became very brittle and was damaged in a restoration. The same thing happened with the constitution. The masking tape you see is there to hold it together, nothing more. Rest assured, no one stole any words from this museum!"
The class laughed. Most of the curator's audience seemed satisfied with the answer and was ready to move on, but the boy shook his head. "That's not what my grandfather says."
"Oh?" said the curator, "Well I assure you, whatever your grandfather told you is wrong. After all, wouldn't I be the one to know? Old people say many silly things."
The class shuffled out of the hall, onto more exciting exhibits. The patchwork parchment lay underneath the protective glass, its words illuminated by the soft glow of the display lights:
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created, endowed by their Creator with Life..."
| 2015-06-29T09:45:39 | 2015-06-29T09:22:00 | 146 | 50 |
[WP] Today, I came to work, as usual. A little around 3 PM, I have noticed I don't remember my colleagues. Except for Kelly, who just sent me an email "Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!" | *Four twenty-six.*
The numbers echo in my mind as I move through the sterile white corridors as quickly as possible. They make me nauseous. I hate them.
*Look straight ahead when you walk. Do not speak to anyone. Do not use the lift.*
I had printed out Kelly’s email and hid it in my pocket. She’s the only one who believes me. She’s the only one who can save me now.
I reach the stairwell and slam the safety doors behind me. Using a fire extinguisher, I jam the handle of the door. Exhausted, I plop onto the floor against the door, sitting on my long white coat.
*They will be looking for a doctor. Change into a patient’s outfit immediately.*
I unfold the blue hospital gown I took from the supply closet and put it on. I hated it. I hated it all, hospitals, patients, diseases, death. It’s a wonder how I’ve worked here for 26 years – my entire adult life.
*Four twenty-six.*
A sharp pain shoots through my skull. Sick and groggy, I vomit all over the floor and crumple onto the ground. I lay there, drained, watching several Xanax pills float on the sick.
Footsteps echo from the stairwell. “Dr. Crawley?”
I turn. A wrinkly, bespectacled old man rushes down the stairs. I have never seen him in my life before.
“How… how do you know my name?” I demand, dragging myself up.
“Daniel, we’ve worked together for decades!” He takes a step and reaches for my shoulder.
“No…” I sweep his hand away.
“Daniel…”
“You liar!” I slam his head against the door. He falls to the ground. A scarlet puddle blossoms around his head.
I run down the stairs. Kelly said they would lie, they would pretend. *Do not trust them*, she said.
Kelly is the only person I can trust. She’s the only person who believes me. I discovered what the hospital really did. I know about the secret labs and illegal experiments. I told Kelly and she believes me. She says they will do anything to keep me quiet. She promised to help me.
I run down to the fourth floor. Shit! I’d left Kelly’s email upstairs. But it’s too late now. I step cautiously into the corridor. Quietly, I walk until I find the room I’ve been looking for.
4-26.
*Meet me at 4-26. You will be safe here. I will tell you everything.*
I made it. I step into the room to find Kelly standing there, smiling. My only friend Kelly, who will explain everything and make the strangers go away.
Something sharp and cold pierces through my right arm. I turn to find two large guards beside the door. One of them is holding a syringe. I scream, but only manage a muffled cry.
I fall into Kelly's arms. As the world fades away slowly, I hear her voice:
“… second time this month…”
“… thinks he still works here…”
“… but he always comes back…”
I feel someone put a piece of paper in my pocket. Then darkness. | When I arrived downstairs I was a little perplexed as the area was entirely renovated since the last time I saw it. I wondered how so much work could have been done in one morning; an entire wall had been broken down and a little interior garden with a fountain was fully integrated into the entrance hall of the building.
Kelly seemed irritated at my gawking and told me to follow her outside so that no-one could hear us.
Once there, she lit up a cigarette nervously and said; "This is what you get for playing around with psychedelics!". I suddenly remembered that I had brewed home-made DMT the previous night and we had consumed a bit of it on our afternoon tea-break at 2:45pm.
Kelly proceeded with a detailed account of her experience. As she related it, I found her quite lucky to have been able to trace the mental path that led to the current situation, for I had basically just walked to the restrooms and came to a few minutes later, dazed and confused.
She explained to me that as she also felt quite insecure being so high in front of all her colleagues, she decided like me to sit it out in the ladies' room. She, though, had had a spectacular experience.
She told me that she found herself drifting up and out of her physical body and as she looked down on herself, she was certain that she was experiencing death. Her crumpled self was on the floor, unconscious. Something drew her through what felt like a vacuum cleaner pipe then she suddenly found herself seated on the guest side of a large wooden desk. A blond toddler was sitting in front of her, his head in his hands. As he shook his head he muttered "I hate this job". Kelly noticed that there was a plaque on the wall behind him, with a certificate mentioning the title of "Spokesperson for the Grand Gridmaster of the 102nd Dimension".
He explained to her monotonously that she had interfered with her grid level compatibility and it was his task to send her back as accurately as possible to the reality she was born into and had continued fashioning in the course of her life. There was no guarantee she would have access to the same set of circumstances she exited with. | 2016-09-16T09:18:38 | 2016-09-16T07:58:36 | 691 | 12 |
[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. | It was these sort of women that he hated the most. The ones that would cling to their tainted children with screams and fits of rage. Didn't they understand? Didn't they realize that the world had to be clean?
It'd been many years since he'd realized the truth about the Blackness. One day, The Doctor has pricked himself during an operation and found a jet black tar, so thick that it never managed to escape from the shallow wound. He'd always been a good man, always helping the needy, operating on the dying, the homeless, those who nobody else would risk their careers on. He'd gone to church, worshiped God, refrained from alcohol and cursing, and still, his blood was filled with Blackness. It was then that he realized: the blood must tell the future. It not only darkened and thickened with each impurity, but it also knew the state of your future deeds. Somehow, the Blackness must be able to judge the soul and see what it was capable of.
With that realization came a new purpose. If one day he would be the Blackest of all devils, then he would dedicate the rest of his life until that moment to purify every stain that he could find. Every drop of Blackness would be cleansed from the world in order to balance his own future sin. It was with this knowledge and vision that The Doctor started his research. After a painstakingly long trial, he found that indeed, the blood could predict a person's purity in their later life. With this, he proposed a new program that could eradicate the Blackness before it ever grew into action. Every child would be pricked at thirteen, as before thirteen they were judged to be well under their parents control. Those whose blood was Black would be taken away from their parents and eliminated from society in order to prevent the evil they would inevitably bring into the world.
Whatever the evil he might one day do, The Doctor hoped that his life's work spent in the elimination of all the Tainted would help to balance the scales. Every day, without fail, he would prick him self again in order to remind himself of his purpose. Every day, without fail, the blood would stand within the cut, Blacker than the darkest night and thicker than the Jello that all his patients received. Every day, without fail, it reminded him that time was running short. One day, he would become evil. Before then, he had to cleanse as much evil from the world as he could. And so, so many of the evil ones were left.
Edit: Woah. So that's why people post things on reddit so much. Dang those upvotes feel nice inside haha. For those asking: I had what I thought was a fun idea so I wrote it out in a rather rough sort of way, no idea if it's actually like any of the animes/shows listed below that I haven't watched and I'm glad y'all enjoyed it too :). | 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. | 2018-08-04T10:46:53 | 2018-08-04T10:34:28 | 3,279 | 45 |
[WP] You are an attorney. A client tells you he's found a genie and wants your help in crafting a wish with no ironic loopholes the genie can exploit. Your retainer fee is the third wish. | I was reclining in my law office when a good old friend of mine, Robert came into my office with a lamp. He set the lamp before me. It was an old lamp, looked like an archaeological find from the first century or something.
I gave him an inquisitive look. "There is a Genie in the lamp." He explained, "I had four wishes, but I wasted my first on asking what he was. I don't want to waste any more. If you can get me the first two, then you can have the third."
I nodded sagely, as if I had any idea what to do. "Ok, let's see what we are working with here." I responded, and then for the next fifteen minutes Robert polished the lamp furiously, I thought he had gone mildly insane when finally a Genie floated from it above my desk.
"I am a Genie, you have awakened me from my slumber. I will grant you three wishes in return for my release."
I nodded, "Mr. Genie, in the case of Genie wish granting, I'm sure you understand that there is a certain distrust of genies breaking the spirit of the wishes given to them. Thus before a wish can be requested, two critical judgments must be made. First, is whether there is enough information to trust the genie. At this point, I think we can conclude that we do not have that sufficient information. Second, under what law and conditions make for a valid wish. Our wishes in this case depend entirely on genie law of which we are completely ignorant. Thus, before we can proceed we need to ask you questions that are not wishes."
The Genie seemed to take my measure and I stared back at him. If he was patient as two thousand years inside a lamp should have made him he would simply not answer. However, I got the feeling he was getting somewhat desperate to get out of the lamp.
"Well Done. You managed to ask me if you can ask me a question without actually asking a question."
"That's not an answer."
"No, it is not."
I nodded, "Very well then, I wish for you to fulfill what Robert should wish for by Robert's standards."
The Genie gave me a look. "Your a tricky one. Fine, done."
"I wish for you to fulfill what Robert should wish for by Robert's standards." I repeated.
"Done."
"I wish for what I should wish for by my standards."
I'm not sure he was expecting that. "Asshole." He told me as chains suddenly appeared around his wrists and dragged him back down into the lamp. | "Okay, because I'm being payed by the hour, I will *entertain* the idea that you somehow found a magic lamp in Hoboken, New Jersey," I said into my ear bud. I was a little annoyed that my client insisted I be interrupted during lunch with something that "couldn't wait" to hear this kind of crap. I swear, I don't know how this yokel affords my retainer fee...
"Anyway," I continued, after swallowing the rest of my sandwich, "the whole genie thing is a lot easier than people seem to think it is. You really don't need a lot of technical jargon or legal mumbo jumbo, you just gotta be *really* specific and think about *exactly* what you want.
"You can't just say "I want all the money in the world,' because then suddenly several foreign powers are going to have some very difficult to answer questions for you. But so you get two wishes, I get the third?
"Okay, in my professional opinion, I would make my first wish that you and your loved ones cannot be directly or indirectly harmed or otherwise inconvenienced by anything a genie does unless it is to your net benefit in the near future. For your second wish, I would wish for more genie lamps with benevolent, wish granting genies in them.
"Go crazy kid, just drop my wish off at the office. And don't worry about me, you do this right, I'll only *need* one. I'll just use it to get whatever *you* wished for." | 2015-08-22T06:01:15 | 2015-08-22T05:20:07 | 53 | 39 |
[WP] Earth is doomed in a matter of years, but you are bestowed with a mystical dagger that causes anyone killed by it to instantly resurrect on an alternate Earth that does not share the same fate. In one world you are revered as a hero, on the other the most notorious serial killer of all time. | It whispers to me, softly and sweetly, reminding me of the promise it makes.
Amazingly I discovered it at a garage sale after my neighbor died. He was some kook who refused to leave his house since basically the 1940s, whittling away his father's fortune in a refusal to interact with the rest of the world.
When he finally kicked the bucket, his grand nephew sold nearly everything in the house, including the collection of swords and knives left over from World War two. A little pile of Japanese steel that glinted and sparkled, despite the day being entirely overcast.
It called to me that day as it does now.
Whispering.
Yearning.
Promising.
Promising of a world torn apart by fire, divine and nuclear, all encompassing and devastating our planet. When you hold the knife the world becomes very, very small, and a vision jerks you into the atmosphere, so far away you can see almost every inch of the earth bathed in flame.
*This is what awaits those who don't taste me,* it whispers.
Then the world becomes an Eden, a paradise of green and blue and health. Vibrant and beautiful, an entire world of hope and glory.
*When a soul enters me,* it would speak softly, drowning out every thought and part of you, *I send them here.*
How much did I pay for that knife? Ten, fifteen bucks?
Didn't matter.
Salvation is priceless, I would say.
Whatever they say about me now, I consider myself a shepherd of lost souls and a doomed planet. It took them faster than I expected to plaster my face over their screens and windows, but nonetheless I refuse to turn myself in.
To doom more to the fire that is to come.
I park my car not too far from my intended target. Already I can hear them, the light, cheery voices of youth echoing over the pavement.
*Save the innocent,* the blade tells me. *Spare them of the world to come.*
A woman sees me in the parking lot and says nothing, simply points and then sprints away. It matters little, I will come for her when the time is right.
More shouts. A bustle of activity, of locked doors and hurried calls.
Little time. There's little time to accomplish what I must do.
I make my way through halls and corridors, looking for the rooms containing the youngest of the children.
Why are they so afraid?
Don't they see?
Don't they see that their world is doomed and I have come to give them the release to a better one? To save them from all this suffering and pain, and the oncoming holocaust of fire?
Flames lap at my heels, but I cannot see them.
I attempt to break down a door, but it holds fast. Heavy in its weight and unyielding in strength.
Someone yells at me to stop.
A portly man in blue holds a weapon pointed at me, but no, no not those they won't save the children, they only send a soul to the twisting emptiness between worlds to howl into the dark.
I'll save the man, then. I'll save them all.
I raise the knife and it yells, deafening in its command, that blood must spill and fill the blade, and I scream and charge.
Weights slam into me, though I hear nothing, the great buzzing and voice still speaking to me, overlapping in order and command.
Blood, hot and beautiful, clogs my throat. I'm drowning, drowning in my own blood.
*Not here,* I think to myself, though it's distant and weak. The buzzing of the knife's command overpowers any though, even those in service to the blade.
*I cannot drown here, cannot die here, there are so many left, so many left to the fire, I cannot stop now.*
Shouts.
More shouts around me, and the man stands over me, his face pale and white, sweat dripping down from his forehead. A man who cannot believe what he has just done.
Darkness spreads from the corners of my eyes, obscuring my vision. Cold. Frozen to the ground, unable to move or speak or scream, I wait for the void. It finds me, though it takes its time.
*It's him,* the man thinks to himself, inspecting the corpse he has just made. *With that weird, long knife.*
Elementary school security officer one, psychotic serial killer zero.
*What the hell is that, what do you even call it?* the man thinks, looking at the blade lying limp in the dead man's hand.
Curved.
Vicious.
Sharp.
He inspects the blade, watching the man's blood pool beneath it.
*Pick me up,* a voice tells him. It's soft and sweet.
*Pick me up,* the knife tells him. Speaks to him. Coos and woos him, seductively calling him from the deep dark blood of its previous wielder.
*We must continue our work.*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/storiesfromapotato | The feel of blood between my fingers was repulsive. No matter how long this went on, no matter how many lives I *saved*, that never changed.
The man crumpled, his eyes going wide even as every last bit of humanity seeped out of them. His lips parted, one final exhalation slipping between them. A final word? A curse? A goodbye? There was no way to tell.
The dagger glinted as I pulled it free. It gleamed, lit from within by its own light. It had been studied for years, pored over by scientist after scientist. I'd been one of them, once upon a time. All that we could tell was that it had some sort of energy translation capabilities. The papers we released were filled with words like *wormholes* and *parallel universes*.
We hadn't thought anything of it. It was just an oddity, a mystery from Earth's past that we couldn't explain.
And then the asteroid appeared.
Everyone else had panicked. The world was doomed, they said, and it was hard to argue with them. But I'd known. I couldn't tell anyone how, or why. I'd *known* that the dagger was the key to saving us.
They'd disagreed. I didn't give them the chance to argue it.
I'd been stealthy at first. Subtle. And then, as the asteroid loomed higher and higher overhead, my methods had slipped.
The sirens rang in my ears. I was out of time - I was out of places to run. That was fine. Tomorrow was the end, anyway, if the astronomers were right. There was no reason to think they weren't.
I'd done all I could. I clung to the idea, holding fast to some sort of hope. They'd be waiting for me on the other side. I *knew* they would be. They'd see I saved them. I wasn't a murderer. I'd never wanted this.
I was a hero.
The first police car was just skidding around the corner as I turned the blade on myself, plunging the length of steel into my neck before I could lose my nerve.
---
---
---
My eyes snapped open.
I gasped, my whole body shuddering. What had- What had just-
I didn't know. I couldn't explain it. But I was breathing - I was *alive*. And there was no asteroid in the sky.
The street around me was different. Busier. More lively. I smiled, honest relief sliding onto my face. The Earth lived. I'd done it. I'd-
"It's *you.*"
At the sound of a voice, I flinched, and then turned. A man stood a few paces back, his eyes wide and terrified.
I smiled, holding a hand up. "Don't worry. I'm not-"
His fist slammed into my cheek a moment later. I hit the ground hard, biting off a strangled cry.
The voices rose around me - confusion. Fear. Questions, and cries for the police.
But here and there, I heard it. "It's *him*." "He's the one. I *remember.*"
I tried to push myself upright. This wasn't right. I was the hero, dammit. I'd saved them.
With a knife. The thought echoed in the back of my mind, chilling me to the bone. I'd saved them with a *knife*, and they *might* not appreciate that as much as I'd thought.
I tried to cry for help. I tried to tell them it was all a mistake.
It vanished in a gurgle as a boot planted itself in my stomach. They closed in around me, blocking out the sun.
"Welcome to the other side," the man said, grinning. "We've been *waiting* for you."
(/r/inorai, critique always welcome!) | 2018-10-15T04:47:30 | 2018-10-15T03:29:57 | 2,834 | 1,715 |
[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. | "And the goddess of light, she bestowed upon you an eidetic memory as well?"
I gaped at Mrs Gray, utterly bewildered. She was behaving surprisingly nonchalant considering I had just informed her I was immortal and stabbed myself through the neck with a compass to prove it. I was hoping to have the old hag in hysterics and eventually shipped off to a padded room so Mr Green from class B would take over for the rest of the semester.
"A what now?" I finally responded.
"Eidetic memory. It means you can remember things in perfect detail." She responded, not even looking up from the papers she was marking. "Can you remember what you had for breakfast last week?"
"Well no but..."
"Then I don't see how I can trust anything you've written without sources."
"What? BUT I WAS THERE!" I yelled, just about ready to flip her desk. "I saw it with my own eyes!"
"And witness testimony is about one of the least reliable sources of evidence there is." She responded finally looking up. "False memories occur all the time, and only more frequently with age."
"You...you're just biased because you hate me!" I threw the essay down onto her desk and was just about to storm out.
"On the contrary, it seems you are the one who is biased." She picked up the essay I had thrown in front of her and cleared her throat reading aloud. "The honorable tribes residing on the east side of the Tigris river were known for their valiant warriors, fending off the dirty savages from the west."
"So? It's true." I responded "Low lives the lot of them. My father said so, as did his father and-"
"And I'm sure they probably thought the same thing about you." she interrupted. "History is more than just *what* happened. Equally important is why. Proper history is viewed through an objective lens. Because only by understanding the past can we hope to improve things for the future. Now with that in mind, if you'd like to learn from your past I'd be willing to allow you to write your essay again." | The prompt was simple. Choose a Mesopotamian ruler or dynasty, and explain how their reign affected the ancient civilizations. Pretty easy, especially when you lived through it. The problem comes up when your teacher wants sources. I can't exactly explain how I was there and how I know that I'm correct. That I'm more correct than the sources they want me to use are. Mistranslations have caused many problems in primary sources. And secondary sources are rife with bias and convenient framing of evidence. It's much simpler to just explain how it happened without things getting muddled down with all those sources. Ms. Jones would never accept any explanation I could give. Not like I'd want to explain that to her either. Don't think I'm gonna pass this class, at least not with Ms. Jones teaching it. Probably gonna have to repeat sophomore year because of this mess. In the end it doesn't matter though. I've lived for this long, so what's an extra year of high school in millenia of misery? | 2021-07-18T01:20:47 | 2021-07-17T23:46:05 | 274 | 101 |
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