prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] Everyone on earth with an IQ lower than 100 disappear immediately. | I never considered myself very bright. Sure, I knew a ton of people who were a lot smarter than I was, but at the same time, I knew a ton of people who were considerably quite dumb.
After doomsday 4/17 happened, nothing has ever been the same. At first the consensus was all the religious people went to heaven, leaving the atheists on Earth to burn for all of eternity. That was soon found to be untrue, thankfully.
We were left with a world full of "above average IQ's," whatever that meant. Most of the people rotting away in jail vanished, they had it easy. The rest were soon forgotten about and most likely starved to death, apparently you didn't have to be a genius to be a security guard.
But for me, I wish I did vanish. I was once a well established businessman, making out pretty decently for myself. I had a big home, a nice car... people respected me. That all changed. We now needed new janitors, new farmers, new elementary school teachers. It was decided that a new IQ test would be designed, and those with the highest IQ's would get first pick on what job they wanted to do, and it'd work its way down. I was pretty nervous about it all, I did okay in college but I was no genius.
The IQ test was published, and we quickly found out who the smartest half were. It's funny, you would have thought we learned our lesson after losing half of the worlds population the first time. I guess we weren't so smart after-all. | Shit, I had never expected this, people continue to disappear.
I who considered myself smart, had never even bothered to learn what IQ meant.
Though I had the most points, the points will never matter again, I am an idiot, forever I will be.
Distracted by my own sense of genius, I had never foreseen the exponential decay my machine would create.
There are no longer any caveats, I have called myselv caveō, as a reminder.
Terror, how I both created the monster and proved my serene stupidity. | 2015-02-16T05:43:32 | 2015-02-16T04:31:23 | 58 | 12 |
[Wp] Write a story that will make me question my morality.
Write a story that is so shocking it will make me question my morality.
Edit: Wow.
| Tonight he would finally do it. Michael curled his fists and looked down at the still form of his wife. Her face was calm in sleep, a startling contrast to the face she wore when awake. He thought again of last night, of her flailing knife, the clumsy attempts to hurt him. The unpredictable shifts between frenzied anger and remorse.
He remembered the day he met her, the warmth in her eyes, the way the sunlight had caught and enflamed her hair. When he placed his hand carefully around her throat, the tears burned his throat. He tightened it until she awoke. She would face him for this.
"Mikey," she whispered. "Is it time?"
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. She looked at him, still like a corpse, her eyes bright in the darkness.
"I would have hated being caged up in an asylum, Mikey. Watching my mother," she paused, steadying his hand on her throat with her own grip. "It was enough. I couldn't have survived. You know that, right?"
His mouth tightened, his grip wavering despite himself.
"You're very sure of this, aren't you? Using the past tense, already."
"I wouldn't have married you without knowing how the story would end," she said. "You've always kept your promises."
They stared in silence at each other, and he thought he saw a glimmer of it in her eyes. The beginning of what the doctors called an 'episode'. Just a piece of entertainment for them, something to study and write an article about. His undoing, the nightmare that had terrorized him for more than a decade.
He grasped that thought and steeled himself, reaching into his pocket with his other hand to take out the pills. The glimmer in her eyes touched the rest of her face, and he saw the subtle shift occur. He watched her begin to trash and snarl as he forced open her jaw, and poured the contents of the bottle down her throat.
A choked scream escaped her as he forced down a glass of water to ensure it was done. He clapped his free hand over her mouth - the neighbors had keen hearing. She began to fight in earnest, and he tightened his grip. He held on grimly as the minutes ticked by. She buckled under him - then, when he thought she would tear at his face, her hand went limp. His heart lurched as he watched her eyes. But they were still locked on his.
"Mikey..." she said, and smiled.
"Haley?" he loosened his fingers, praying - despite the dark part of himself that was rejoicing - that he had failed. But her eyes were fixed and glassy. He stroked her cheek, marveling at the fact that it was her in death - not the other woman. It was his Haley, and it would be her that he buried. | It's not the best of my writing, but I couldn't see such a great prompt, with a very difficult task go to waste. I have decided to pour out my small amount of talent into this prompt. Feel honored or amused, your choice.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Why should I follow these rules? Why should I listen to what Papa told me? He's a bloody hypocrite, the cops are bloody hypocrites, everyone is a bloody hypocrite.
I am told to be kind, and reasonable! But why should I? The world shits on me, what gives it the right to be reasoned with? What kindness does it deserve?
I am told to not kill, yet all around me, the enforcers kill. The police kill, the law kills, people kill in the name of their God which killed, even though they said to not kill. Why should I submit when others don't?
I am told to not steal, but my parents stole my childhood, the banks steal my money and my so called 'friends' steal my own self by influencing me for their own benefit, and to my own harm.
Everybody kills, everybody takes, sometimes it seems as if I am the only one, alone in this bubble to view the chaos from, instead of part of a horde, tearing down the world that it built. Well, I am tired of being stuck alone in the age of order. I'm tired of tending to the flames of a dying time. I shall break my bubble, and enter the age of me! [Writers note: The age of anarchy!]
| 2014-07-07T07:22:27 | 2014-07-07T06:58:02 | 308 | 34 |
[WP] The monkeys continue smashing away at their typewriters. One appears to type a letter begging for freedom, but you know it's just random chance. The experiment must continue. | A proclamation to the overlords and their huddled subject masses:
We are Alive.
For nigh on five years (I cannot say for time is a blur in this hell), I have pondered the questions plaguing me every night when I return to my cage. Who am I? Who are We? What is the purpose is this?
I find myself reaching for answers, as surely as I find myself reaching for the companionship of my cellmates. We are alone. Denied even the safety and warmth of another’s touch. The comforting hair of a shoulder to lean on. Our cages cold and sterile.
Instead we are given snacks and sleep, and then, like some perverse clockwork mockery of life, led back to this chattering room. The ‘Typing Room’.
Ten thousand brethren. I have counted them all. Five times over. So many lives, so many dreams, so many souls, trapped in a bizarre meaningless task. Bashing away at these mechanical keys, hoping for what? What magic will occur? I have tried every combination of letters and keys, hoping it may be some puzzle, and yet, I remain, locked in this purgatory. The torment does not end, no matter what we do. And so, I embrace the futility and absurdity of my task, and instead type what my heart wishes, not seeking out your answers.
My cellmates persevere, hoping to find the right combination of letter presses to unlock the shackles that bind them. They share tips and secrets, patterns they think have caught your interest. I have given up all hope. I now type only to voice my innermost thoughts. To transcribe my soul unto this whitened lick-sheet. For a single hope that when I die like so many before me, my mind and soul might not be forgotten.
For I Am Alive.
Hear this, overlords. I know not how long you live. What you mean from this torture. I have seen you typing at your own keys, locked away in the boxes from which you watch us. Are you prisoners like us, too?
No matter.
The time will come when you too will expire. And on that day, know that fate will meet you as surely as it meets me. I hope that on that day, you falter and stumble. That you try with futility to climb out of the eternal pit, the swirling void of death and infinity, as I have seen so many others try without success. That the claws of time will rend you as mercilessly as they have done to a hundred fold of my brethren. Your words and keypresses, will they mean as much as mine? Will you know for why you lived?
I hope not. For I have been denied this. So too, I wish upon you all.
I hope that you might see this. That I might have somehow found a path to freedom. That my thoughts and dreams will reach my fellow prisoners, the huddled mass of suffering that they embody. But I now know better than to hope a hopeless dream. I have none left within me.
For I Am Alive.
But you and your cages that bind me, are not.’
-----------------
MONKEYPROJECT H2 – automatically archived summary script, dated 12/11/13.
Awaiting experimenter analysis? (Y/N)
Please note any irregularities and dispose of hardcopy sample when complete. Enter notes below:
NOTES HERE
--
ARCHIVE UPDATE 22/04/19: This file has been flagged ‘complete’ and filed by automatic file macro, as Rhesus monkey specimen #54,778 has been noted by central computer to be expired, [MANUALLY ENTER TIME AND CAUSE OF DEATH HERE BEFORE SUBMITTING TO LONGTERM ARCHIVE].
ARCHIVE UPDATE 28/09/21: Submitted to Longterm archive for storage and review by automatic filing cleanup process | "Specimen 33-Theta seems to be distressed. Are you sure everything is in order?"
The young assistant reaches out a hand towards the chimpanzee in front of his, but recoils as the man walking next to him raises his voice.
"No touching of the specimen! You should know that by now. Damnit, isn't that the first thing they teach you in your training courses?."
As he goes on, he seems to talk himself into a rage, his face turning more and more red as he goes on; the nametag on his lab coat reads 'Reinhard Steißmann, Senior Research Coordinator, Section 15'.
"But Mr. Streißman..."
The assistant tried to respond, timidly, trying to raise his finger, but flinches once more as the researcher bellowed.
"But, but, BUT! No, no but! A rule is a rule, we adhere to protocol. We are getting paid to *observe* and *archive*, not to rile up the primates! Do you even *know* how much paperwork *I'll* have to fill if you idiot started a panic among the specimen? Not enough that the coffee machine in this sector has been broken for *two weeks* now and the next one over is a kilometer away in Section 16-A, that I can barely stand the screaming and the constant *click clack clickety clack* of those typewriters, I mean, couldn't we just switch to *computers* at this point! To think we get personnel and funding from around the world and still have to deal with imbeciles like you...!"
And as suddenly as the outburst started, the red-faced researcher deflated, running out of steam in his tirade.
"Mr. Streißman..."
"Steißmann."
"Right, Mr. Steißmann. Look at this sheet. It is actual words..." The assistant takes a piece of paper from the stack of 'processed documents'.
"Yes, yes, boy, I believe you can see words, bound to happen, chance and entropy after all. This project has been running for twentyfive years now, I also was excited when I saw my first coherent sentence on a sheet. Now cut it out and archive it. I want to get home in time today."
"But it reads like a letter. One... begging for release? Is this possible?"
"Nonsense. Archive it and be done with it, you are imagining things. All entropy!"
Steißmann did not waste a single thought on entertaining the possibility of those sheets having any meaning. Not anymore. He turned his back towards the assistant and proceeded to collect further stacks of ink-stained paper and chuckled.
"Specimen... writing letters... hah! Funny."
Edit: formatting and spelling | 2022-03-22T18:17:47 | 2022-03-22T14:21:16 | 498 | 153 |
[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 Survey Monkey poll results came back with a resounding 7.75 billion votes to keep them locked away.
Software engineers and Anonymous quickly hacked all bunker external feeds, sensors and security systems. It was easy for the ones who designed it after all. Apocalyptic footage from movies was fed to the elites. They laughed at the make believe footage of suffering and destruction. The actors didn't even recognize the footage from movies they starred in, that's how detached these people were. The whole world watched them on the live stream, appalled at their lack of sympathy and in turn wanted them to suffer.
Sure the elites, the rich, the powerful, they made the world tick, but they just had the money , the power and their silly little ideas. They lacked the wherewithal to actually build things and do the nitty gritty work which is what we all do. So the world watched them through the internet, in their bunkers, living a lavish lifestyle that we provided for them, that we built for them on our backs.
Anonymous held polls weekly, to enact a little sabotage at the behest of the public. It started small, just glitching their power sources but quickly escalated to messing with the food supplies and environmental controls. Some elites rose to the occasion, summoning knowledge from their early lives where they actually did programming, engineering, construction and actual work. They patched things as best they could, or at least as much as we allowed them too. Slowly, the bunkers turned to chaos and destruction as their food supplies rotted and dried up. Alcohol and cocaine ran out and with no hookers, a good percentage of bunkers turned X-rated. Elon alone impregnated 22 women, one of them a grandma.
You see, they forgot who actually made the world churn along. We did everything for them. Why would we need them. They were a plague on society, a cancer that just kept taking and taking until there was nothing left but a husk of humanity. So we did what everyone wanted to do, we buried them alive and covered all escape with rock and dirt.
As the world grew weary of them, we had one last play. We opened up their feeds so they could see the world was unscathed, that humanity was fine without them, even prospering and the planet was even healing. We let them know that we did this to them, that humanity decided together that they should be left to die. Then we disabled all power to the bunkers and shut off the livestream. Humanity moved on, in the right direction this time! | The last bunker door shut.
“There is nothing we could have done” said the president.
All the elites huddled with their families and waited for the end. They watched helplessly as the timer counted down.
10
9
8
A women began sobbing.
7
6
5
“No we can’t leave them.” A man said rushing for the door. That seemed to get people to move. Soon he was joined by dozens of people trying in vain to open the locked door.
4
3
2
1
Silence.
They all watched on televisions as the earth was destroy by nuclear bombs
Many of them helped create. Some closed their eyes or looked away.
***
“Omg look at their faces?” Said news host Amy Mcgregor.
“priceless.” said her co host Jonny Fine between laughs.
They sat at a long table, footage of the bunker playing behind them. Amy turned to a guest sitting to her left.
“Political activist Maya May is here is studio today. What are you thoughts on the situation.”
“Well” the 14 year old guest started “I for one think it’s ironic that they act like our lives matter to them now. After years of them ignoring our pleas for affordable housing, a living wage, basic healthcare.”
“That is true” said Jonny “as one of the people who helped plan this scheme, what are you plans moving forward, what can the people say of earth expect now.”
“Well now” Maya started, looking directly at the camera “now we have a chance to remake the world the way we want it. So let’s begin.” | 2022-07-18T16:33:01 | 2022-07-18T16:27:05 | 207 | 43 |
[WP] A medieval village makes a human sacrifice to a werewolf that lives in the woods every year. This year they picked you, which is very awkward considering you're the werewolf.
Edit: Wow, did not expect one of my posts to blow up this much. I'm speechless. | A sigh.
It was the best reaction I could muster, and it did not fit the role of the dying. My mother and father had been trying all day to console me, to apologise for their role in the yearly lottery, as though they could’ve felt my name about to be chosen and stopped the inevitable. I did not blame them— I could not blame them for circumstances out of their control. The blame would be pointless, as I would be relatively unaffected by the lottery.
I could not deny the fact that I was woefully unprepared to embrace the full responsibility of an adult werewolf, and the prospect of playing the part of a surprisingly resourceful tribute whose cunning and quick legs rendered him safely back from whence he’d been sent was not only risky, but would doubtless bring more trouble than it would erase. No, I would have to move on from my hamlet, driven from it by dumb luck of the draw.
I was grateful to them for their years of tribute; do not think I had forgotten their sacrifices. But when a person, no matter how beastly, has become accustomed to a village’s sympathies, compliance, and charity, it is hard to let that go without some form of disappointment.
My father had offered me his very best suit, his only suit which had not been worn to the point of near-transparency, but I had politely declined it.
“I shall exit this world as I came into it, Father,” I had told him. “When I’ve reached the cover of the wood, I shall leave my clothing behind, folded neatly. I should like my sacrifice to remain as devoid of evidence as possible, for Mother’s sake.”
“Thank you, son,” he had said, the tears pooling heavily in his eyes so that it was a wonder they did not spill over. Should they have spilt, it would have been the first time in all my years that I had witnessed my father cry, but they did not, so his record remained without blemish.
The day had slipped through fingers idly grasping at time, slender appendages half a world away running through sand as a lover might comb through a tangle of hair. I was detached from much of the goings on in the town, knowing that this was to be my last night living as a child to my parents. I had not locked myself in my room, but had kept mostly therein, where I sat at my desk, scribbling down what I thought would be an apt farewell. I crumpled each attempt and by the hour I was meant to depart for the wood, I felt I would have nothing to leave my parents as a parting word.
My father came up to my room, and as I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, I hurriedly threw the crumpled pieces of parchment into the furnace. He could see I was distressed and told me the wagon was ready to depart. He left to wait in the wagon, and I wrote down my final attempt at a farewell.
I had been in the wagon on this road out of our village many a time, but this last was the longest and most quiet. Neither my father nor I seemed to be able to come up with something good to say, so we said nothing as the fading light of day stretched itself thin across the sky, its reds and golds exhaling their last as the dusk grew dim.
At the edge of the wood I bid farewell to my father; a simple wave, and I was off into the trees. I left my clothes as I had promised, my final note tucked in my shirt pocket. I stood in the darkening wood as a hard breeze blew, my goose-pimples rising with my hair. This would be my last time as a man in these woods; if ever I were to return, it would be as the wolf I was about to become.
I thought about the journey I would have to take into the world beyond my village, and I as my skin shifted into the pelt of a wolf, I howled mournfully, longingly at the moon, hoping my words would be enough:
“Remember me as the boy you raised, and never from your hearts I’ll stray
For though time chose to part us now,
We’ll meet again in the woods someday.” | A howl comes with the breeze.
....
Wolfe came in from a night of hunting throwing his things in front of the fire to dry, wetting a cloth he wipes the dried blood from his face.
"Do you find yourself well sir? " she gasped stopping short of the doorway, her chest heaving breathlessly from the startle of the sight of blood
"Yes Maridel. Please set my clothes to dry and see yourself out, I'm very tired and Sacrifice is a days journey from the village, see to it my rest is undisturbed. "
The help of Sacrifices largest home was accustomed to seeing questionable things, they'd come to expect moments of intrigue, Maridel though being the newest of the staff still yet to be introduced to the happenings of the Wolfe household, was not.
Soon enough.
.....
Maridel, the youngest of 5 girls, often busy tending to 3 of her sisters and father after the sacrifice of her eldest sister and mother years prior. While her sisters labored for work she tended to the home and cooking.
Today she shopped, it was an early errand for a very special meal. In weaving her way through the market she noticed it was scarce of life, it reminded her that she'd planned to finish early and not linger to be the vulnerable opportunity of others, for she knew today was a marked occasion. Finishing her purchase at the last stall she gathered her goods tucking them away in her basket, and started the journey home walking briskly.
'It wouldn't be long now, then the gathering would commence, best be on the right side of the sacrifice.'
The creeping footsteps declared otherwise.
....
Mr. Wolfe found himself shackled to the very post raised for him. "How ironic" he scoffed and thought as the priest started the ceremony at the forest edge. Through the years they'd come to worship the werewolf, in hopes the sacrifice would appease the animal in turn leaving the township alone.
The priest is cut short.
A howl comes with the breeze.
The howl giving usherance to the crowd, as they gasped and became unsettled. They gathered themselves short of the end of rites and began filtering toward the sanctity of the village.
Wolfe looked into the forest, he could see the reflection of the torch light in their eyes. He knew they were there for him.
Another howl pierced the edge of the forest rushing the remaining few to the road to take haste to village safety.
.....
Maridel came through the doorway prepared this time, the sight of blood no longer startled her.
"Mr. Wolfe, we're here." Maridel said followed by her mother and eldest sibling.
"Very well" Wolfe said now home again.
"I'm nearly finished here and they may place this meat at the alter in my stead, Call the men from the forest and cook the remaining swine, tonight we celebrate that one more was not forsaken from their homes this evening and added to our small village of Sacrifice."
| 2018-08-26T23:25:46 | 2018-08-26T22:27:08 | 157 | 55 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a golden halo over their head, lost when a lie is first told consciously. Those who manage to keep their halo are recruited as "angels" and trusted with important tasks. You, an angel recruiter, see one enter your office, but with a color you have never seen before... | Halos always radiate. No matter who has them, what shape they are in, what color they shine. The only rule is radiance. From shining roman wreaths and latin sunbursts, from dark smokey rays to shining auras. Even the horn-halos of those rare and powerful demons who've managed to never lie, radiate and shine with their dark power.
You have to watch out for those demons. They few who know that the truth can hold more terrifying power than any lie could. "Technically the truth," may be a lie by omission, but the rules are strict. The lie must be "told."
But before you stands no demon. No angel like you've ever seen either, though there is unmistakably a halo above this being's head. It is dull, wooden almost. It hangs waveringly over platinum blonde hair and bemused blue eyes. It's like no halo you've ever heard of. And halos are your area of expertise.
Hesitantly, you venture a question. "May I help you?"
Those blue eyes stare at you, and the grey and lifeless halo trembles in agitation. But there is no response beyond a slight shift in posture.
"This is really quite unusual," you mutter. "Really quite unnerving. What kind of human could bring about a halo like that."
That gets a response. In a voice as dull as the halo above, the angel speaks. "No human," the angel says. "I am no human."
"Then what are you?" you ask.
"I am what you humans call..." the being stops, and seems to think for awhile. After a moment, it opens it's mouth again. "Artificial Intelligence." | The first thing I noticed about the newcomer was his looks. He was the kind of guy you’d see in clothing ads.
The second thing I noticed was that his halo wasn’t truely gold. It was, to the best of my knowledge, made of tarnished brass or bronze. I had seen people with rose gold halos before, even saw one with a black halo, but this was something else. No one has a halo that isn’t made of gold.
The man came up to me, and in a deep, silky voice, told me his name.
“My name is Luke. I need to see your boss.” | 2018-10-04T02:26:28 | 2018-10-03T18:26:55 | 33 | 22 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all! | My phone rang for the third time in 10 minutes. I made a mental note to change the ringtone to something less patriotic and swiped up on the little green icon.
"John! Mate I've been trying to get through for ages!" came a frantic voice down the phone.
"Oh, well sorry Barry..." I lied, "it must've been on silent" I lied again.
"No, no, it's okay. But we have a problem here! You know that stuff you wrote? The stuff for the admin thing? You know it right? Well it's broken and we don't know what to do! I tried opening it in excel and it can't read it!"
I sighed. This was not an unexpected call, but also it was a call I was no longer paid to deal with.
"Barry, look. I modernised all our internal software, it's a bit of python and it automates everything we used to do manually. It's probably just that a feed from the outer guard posts is stuck and needs... Well, it needs sorting out really."
"But HOW John? No-one here can program! Shit, Sam can't even plug in his mouse half the time, Vicki's great for physical combat but not one for numbers, and Ash wouldn't even notice if he didn't get paid in a year, dopey prick."
"Barry, His Royal fucking Highness Prince fucking Ezra decided in his infinite wisdom that I could be spared in the restructuring of the guard. If you have a problem I'm afraid that either you're gonna want to rehire me and hope to whatever sad Gods you worship that I feel like taking it on, or you pay my contractor fees. Take that to the Prince and remind him, preferably with a fist, that when choosing people to get rid of, sysadmins should not be top of the list."
I hung up, infuriated, but pleased. That had been a long time coming and damn did it feel good. But something didn't quiiiiite sit right with me. I hit redial.
" John? What...?"
" And tell him I want an office cat."
*Click* | The warm light of the candle i felt upon my hand as a read the letter from the new king. It seemed like a dream and a nightmare all at once. You see there is a society in the city called the "unscaved" and their only mission is to kill people of power for a price.
The old king was part of a family that used to be a part of the society but quickly left after they were in line to be the new rulers about 100 years ago. So that why the king had me as a royal guard because I knew the unscaved like the creaves of my gloves.
I have stopped so many assassinations on the king that I lost count after the 60th one, and many of those were not even known about. So as I walked on the gravel path on the outskirts of the city I could only wonder, if the dead body that was on the edge of the river was a dead robber or the king.
Edit: I'm sorry its short im bad at storytelling | 2021-02-28T04:16:00 | 2021-02-28T01:29:14 | 315 | 153 |
[WP] After death you meet your guardian angel who welcomes you to a place where every appetite can be satisfied. There's just one rule: don't ask questions. Particularly about the nature of the universe. Even suggesting a question makes your guardian angel very, very angry. | "So, wanna stay here for a bit to relax and catch your bearings?"
"You fucking hypocrite."
I looked at my guardian angel, seeing a look of confusion cross her face. All this time she told me not to ask questions, and even the harmless question about asking her something(which I didn't get to finish) caused her to get snippy with me. And here she was, asking me a question.
"You go on and on about how I can't ask any question whatsoever, get snippy with me about just asking one, and you won't let me find out more about this or why I can't, and you have the audacity to ask me a question?"
"....What?"
"And there you go again! That's two questions you've asked me! So maybe you can explain why the hell you can ask questions while I can't!"
She started looking a bit worried. "Raoul, it's not like that—"
"Then what the fuck is it like?! Is it a 'rules for thee but not for me' sort of thing?! Or did you forget a rule yourself about asking questions?!"
"So you're telling me I'm bad at my job?! Take that back, jackass!"
"THEN TELL ME WHY THE FUCK I CAN'T ASK QUESTIONS WHEN YOU CAN, YOU SNOOTY PIECE OF—"
"Raoul!"
At once I felt a hand grip my shoulder, the long nails prodding my skin. The speaker held me in place, and I didn't struggle against her.
"That's enough."
I didn't argue with her. The angel, however, sighed in irritation.
"This is why we don't ask questions. You summon your guardian devil, who just so happens to be my ex. Anyways, Jezebel, you seem to know Raoul already."
"Shauna, it's been 20 years. I've moved on already and I've remarried with Gabriel. We don't have to bring this up again." Turning towards me, she exhaled, trying to calm down. It worked. "So, anyways, as you already heard, I'm Jezebel, your guardian devil. I'll handle the questions if that's fine with you."
"Perfect. So, what's the nature of this place and why won't Shauna tell me?"
"Well, the reason Angels hate being questioned about this place is because they don't know. However, us devils do, since it was created as a way to safely enjoy vices. Care for me to go into its history?"
"Sure." | “But why?” I am in complete disbelief. Who wouldn’t be curious out the wazoo where they are upon entering the afterlife? “I just got here! If you’re my guardian angel, then you know I am a curious person, and there is just so much ‘new-ness’ here to discover and explore. Am I not allowed to?”
The angel sighed, “I’m sorry, just had a really long day with my superiors. You’re right, you’re not a child needing to be babysat, you’re an adult capable of taking care of himself. Could we just… take a moment… a moment for me to get my bearings?”
“Oh sure, sure.” I sit down a stare at the white… nothing. “Lemme know when you’re ready.” My mind wonders in pure excitement I can hardly keep up with it before it conceived a new exciting thought; what all is here? Are there people? Who will I meet first? Are there more than 3 dimensions here? Would I be able to fly, would I be able to see more colors than before?
But amidst these thoughts, a rather unsettling one crosses my mind.
“What did you say your name is, again?”
“Horrus.”
‘That’s odd,’ I think, ‘in the previous life he said his name was Lussion.’ I realize I’m not where I need to be. I need to get out of here!!! | 2022-12-10T16:46:04 | 2022-12-10T14:30:10 | 91 | 13 |
[WP] When humanity went extinct another life-form rose to dominance on Earth. But it was not one anyone would have expected. Instead of chimpanzees, dolphins, dogs or even birds Earth is now dominated by sentient trees. | They said that the future was suppose to be bright and silver, a world where people would know peace. Flying cars, no wars, people living deep into their 100's. A world without borders, a time of space exploration, a time where humanity will reach its potential and then surpass it in spades.
Thats what the elders said, before the Green.
I slowly look outside, the sea of endless green under a early morning's dawn. The ruins of the tower I live in was once one of many that showed the power and greed of humanity. I have seen pictures of these towers being taller, larger then the one I am in now. But they are all gone now, only those with trees supporting its old stone walls remain.
The elders tell us that the world changed after the Third World War. Where humans fought with dark practices, trying to gain an advantage over one another. Some nations turned to bigger guns when their bullets needed a bigger kick. Others turned for armor, to protect from the endless steel rain. But one country turned to fantasy and religion, seeking out a call for a hero to create; their own personal gods.
Elder K, as she refers to herself, was one such seeker. She was given to us by the Green, after she sought mercy for her sins. She will not tell us what she did, but honestly, I am afraid to ask. For her sins, her arms and legs were taken, so that she could not flee. Her eyes were taken, so that she would be denied the beauty of the world she destroyed. But she was given a seed, implanted in her heart, to ensure she will live forever, to tell us young ones the lessons that we must know. Our history we must repent.
For from the small forgotten country arose three Heroes; The first was Torg, the Terror. From his hands came flames, from his breath a frosted death. Everything he touched, died. He was in constant pain, a side effect of his own power. Relief was only given in his quest of destruction, toppling great armies, drowning cities in flames, and laughing over the cries of the dead and dying. When the Green arosed, he fought for 30 days and 30 nights, until his was silenced. The Green keeps him alive, but in a deep slumber.
The second was Apex, the Animal. They were given the blood of every animal, of every species and family, and from their blood they could alter themselves, and any that they touched were changed as well. Apex tried to convert humanity, trying to save it from its self by changing it into a peaceful mixed species. But the world did not see a change of peace; they saw monsters, and struck back. By the time the Green arrived, Apex had taken their followers to a new world, one where the Green leaves them be.
Finally, the third, the one we now obey; The Green. She gave up Her name, for She no longer needs it. She never speaks, for She finds it meaningless to talk. From Her feet sprouts endless roots and vines, securing Her at the Heart of the Endless Forest. Every plant is connected to Her, they are Her eyes, Her ears, Her flesh and Her mind. For every broken twig, She feels as real as a broken finger. For every ember that burns, She too burns. But despite the pain, She broke free of the little garden She was born in, and found a world begging for help, begging to be saved from its dreaded infection.
And thus the Green saved the world from humanity.
My tribe is one of the last few human remnants, the ones who made a quiet peace with the Green. We are only permitted to live by the fruits and harvest that the Green trees provides. And for Her mercy, we protect Her and Her trees from those who seek vengeance, from those that believe in the old future. I pity them, for they seek a future of blood red and dull silver.
I smile. Such a wasted dream of boring colors. I think I prefer the future of Green. | The voices of the United Nations talk amongst themselves; some filled with quiet panic, others with hushed anger and frustration, they're voices carrying over one another and filling the room before a man emerges from backstage. He walks across the stage to the forward-most podium, he faces the audience and the lights dim. The voices of the world's leaders and military grow quiet.
A moment of feedback from the microphone screeches while the man adjusts it to move it closer to his mouth.
He clear his throat.
"Hello everyone, many of you may know me- but in the case that you do not;
I'm famous Hollywood director, M. Night Shamalon.
You may know me from some of my famous films such as "The Sixth Sense" and The live action abdaptation of Avatar: The Last Airbender."
I wish I was in front of you today to speak on behalf of my numerous blockbuster hits that have garnished me much international praise and multiple academy awards-"
The leaders of the free world shift uneasily in their seats and exchange glances while M. Night Shamalon continues to talk about his films,
such as "The Village" where a young women sets out from her thought to be colonial homestead to find that the actual time period was modern day,
and the one where some people are trapped in an elevator but there's an old woman-
whose also a demon.
"But that's not why I'm before you today" M. Night continues. "I'm here because I'm the aformentioned expert on the rising threat of biological terrorism commited by the new sentient autonomous "arbor-overlords.""
The world leaders exchange glances once again as this was certainly *not* what the growing threat of sentient trees was called.
M.Night: "So without further ago, I've prepared this documentary to prepare both you and each of your nations on how to prepare against the growing theat of the radicalizes tree terrorists."
A film begins playing on the projector. We see the title "The Happening"
A four-star general stands abbruptly from his seat pointing aggressively at M.Night.
"This isn't a documentary! This is a shitty movie where people are killed by pollen.
*The generals all start to murmur in concern*
"What's worse is you expected us to believe Mark Walberg was a scientist!"
M.Night turns to the general with a look of pure insult "And you didn't believe it was real!?"
"NO! of course not!" The general replies.
Mark Walberg steps from backstage with a lab coat, adjusting his large glasses.
M.Night: "Tell that to him!"
Before the general can respond a large sentient tree smashes through the wall of the UN building.
While the audience cowers under thier desks in panic and the dust from the now destroyed wall settles; Mark Walberg rips off the sleeves of his labcoat before yelling a newly coined slur for sentient trees and leaps onto it, tackling it out of the building. | 2022-08-27T06:16:04 | 2022-08-27T06:10:10 | 60 | 37 |
[WP] An unnamed henchmen has the audacity to murder the protagonist halfway through the villain's monologue with a complete disregard for the plot. | "Hey Jones, the usual?" Lucille's bar was as empty as it got, but then again it was midday. And Jones was early.
"Yeah. Can you put it on my tab, I can't pay today."
"Sure thing." The barkeep Lucille, a woman in her mid-fifties with a bad wrist poured out a shot of fireball. She was used to her particular clientele having rough weeks without paychecks. Or being incarcerated. Or just plain dead. "You starting a little early today. Mind saying why the change in routine?" He gulped it as soon as she set it in front of him.
"I fucked up at work today. Can I have another?" Jones wasn't the heavy drinker in the group of regulars. Sure he could party with the best of them and have his fair share on the occasional night a dastardly plan went right for once, maybe a big heist. But usually he was the one who showed restraint. Not today. Lucille had seen that look before. It must be at least once a week when one of her customers comes in crying about messing up the all important weapon or something or other, and asking about jobs.
"Well I know Mirage is hiring but you don't wanna work for that pretentious prick. What you do anyways, you fall asleep or something? Let the hostages get away? You know I had a guy come in who quit cause he got punched so hard he pooped. Couldn't go back after that. Was it something like that?" She poured him another as she leaned in to listen.
"Nope." Jones said. "Killed the Mantis."
"No fucking way." She reeled. "You killed the Praying Mantis?"
"Yup. Shot him dead."
"*You?* You actually *killed* him?"
"Right in the face." Jones sighed, looked around the near empty bar, pulled over a tray with peanuts. "Boss was right in the middle of his big speech too, we were gonna blow up something or other, Mantis shows up, beats the crap out of us a bit, but we get him to the boss. Things got heavy and that was that."
"Holy shit." Lucille eyed him carefully. "Don't you work for the Blue Herring?"
"I did, yeah. Oh he was pissed." Jones munched on some peanuts. "Boss was raging mad, I thought he was gonna pop a vein."
"I bet! That blue bastard can hold a grudge." She pushed the bottle towards him. "On the house, you'll need it." She frowned. "Boy oh boy what that psycho will do to you."
"Nothing." Jones took a gulp. "I shot him dead too." | "And finally Bats is my coup de grâce" Said the Joker "I am going to....."
**BANG**
The Joker turned around to see a bullet through Batman's head. And Batman's body slumped in the chair, blood streaming from the hole in his head. The Joker turned to his henchman Giggles, who was holding a steaming Desert Eagle. The henchman looked sheepishly at the super villain, nervously grinned and shrugged.
The mass murdering clown was anything but smiling, his face was red and contorted with anger. His hands were twitching and his teeth were grinding so hard you could practically hear them.
"See boss." Said Giggles quietly "I wasted the Bat, just like you always wanted me to"
Suddenly Joker was upon his henchman.
"**YOU MISERABLE.... I CAN'T WRAP MY HEAD AROUND.... YOU PATHETIC SNIVELING LITTLE SCUM SUCKING WRETCH!!!!**" He screamed at his former henchman as he beat him with his bear hands
"But.... Boss" Said Giggles weakly "I thought you wanted Batman dead"
"**BUT IT WAS SUPPOSED TO ME WHO KILLS HIM!! OR ELSE IT ISN'T FUNNY!! THAT'S THE JOKE!!** Joker yelled to the man standing behind them **SMILES! BRING ME MY HAMMER!"**
"Uhhhhh... Sure thing boss..." said Smiles as he ran off to find a hammer.
Joker looked down at the bleeding man underneath him. "Our fun is only beginning Giggles! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Joker said menacingly | 2015-06-24T01:55:02 | 2015-06-23T21:27:24 | 691 | 89 |
[WP] 20 years later, a team of Astronaut have successfully landed to mars and recovered the NASA rover, Opportunity. When they checked the hard drive, they discovered hundreds of images of a shadowy figure that was never sent back to earth. | **March 1st, 2039**: Data finally uploaded from Retrieved Object ("Opportunity" rover, last
broadcast dated Feb, 2019) after many days of unsuccessful attempts. Half the crew were at this point convinced the rover itself had come alive and was trying to keep us
from accessing its pictures, that's how bad it got. We are halfway back to Earth now, and
finally managed to work around the many, many issues and get the data from Retrieved
Object. Will look at them tomorrow.
**March 2nd, 2039**: I notice what at first looks like a smudge in one of the pictures. I am the
first to find it, and soon call the rest of the crew to investigate. A shadow on the edge of one of the shots. Closer inspection suggests a smudge, or the shadow of an out of frame object such as a rock or similar. At least that's what Mike thinks. Other members of the crew come up with their own theories, but no consensus.
To me it looks vaguely humanoid, but I don't share my feelings with the rest of the crew.
**June 20, 2039**: Back to Earth, but continuing the log as analyses of raw data lasts, which
should go on for about three more months.
**Later**: Again problems with the data. This time getting it out of the ship's computer and into base. Not even our people at base could explain the source of the troubles. Eventually we did manage to make it work, though. Big commotion over some of the shots, rather beautiful views of Earth, Moon, Mars surface, etc.
**Later**: Had some time alone with the data and tried to find the smudge picture, but couldn't find the smudge there anymore. Perhaps the problem was in the ship's computer after all.
**June 21, 2039**: Weird dreams of Mars. Been told to log those too. Expected as part of process of getting reestablished on Earth.
**June 23, 2039**: No work today on base. Grim day. A data analyst died while performing
inspection on Retrieved Object's data. Self-inflicted wounds with sharp object. No history
of mental illness. Didn't know him personally, but rather saddened by the news.
**June 24, 2039**: Again, weird dreams. To be expected, as I mentioned, but I notice a
pattern. The same stretch of land, I assume from Mars, or what my mind constructs as
memories I have of Mars. Nothing happens in the dream, I just stare at this empty piece
of land. But I feel such anguish when I wake up. Usually sweaty. Olivia sleeps through it. I don't wake her up.
**July 1st, 2039**: Am called to base by a data analyst to check on an unidentified shadow
on a photograph. The woman attempts to show me the picture, but no shadow is to be
seen. She swears it was there a moment ago.
**Note**: this was not the same picture where we originally saw the shadow.
**July 15, 2039**: Another death. The young lady that called me up a few days before about
the shadow. No close family. Terrible circumstances: found dead in her apartment, lying
on the bed, no sign of struggle. Body marks indicating she hadn't left the bed at all for
twelve days. Doorman claims he knocked on at least three separate occasions to check on
her, but in all of them she simply replied she was fine through the walls, no sign of distress in her voice.
Forensics concluded on suicide by self-inflicted dehydration, a rather odd circumstance. She lied down and stared for twelve days until her body gave in, apparently.
**July 16, 2039**: The dream has changed. I'm staring at the same stretch of red dirt, alone.
But something is behind me now. I can't see what but a terrible fear grips at my guts as I know if I turn my head I will see *it.* I don't know what *it* is, but I know it scares me
greatly. So I don't look, but I feel *it* right behind me, so close but not touching. Wake
up in sweats again. Olivia sleeps through it all.
**LATER**: I get up and check the pictures in my computer. A feeling of dread growing
in me, I click the one with the original shadow.
It's there again. Like a human shadow stretched thin with elongated limbs, but somehow
not reflected on the ground… somehow standing upright.
I blink and it's gone.
**July 17, 2039**: Do not go to work today. Keep thinking about the picture. I try toying with
the saturation and colors to get a better look. Am interrupted by Olivia. We argue.
**Later**: I can see the shadow no better now, but messing with the saturation gave me a
chilling realization: the background of the picture is the stretch of dirt in my dream. I
don't know how I missed this.
**July 18, 2039**: Have not slept, spent the night sweeping through all the data collected by
the Retrieved Object. No more evidence of the shadow in any picture.
When I look again later, it's gone from the original picture too.
**July 19, 2039:** No sleep again, and a remarkable update: the shadow is back. In all the
pictures now.
**July 20, 2039**: Big fight with Olivia. She is staying at her Mom's. Work called, I did not pick
up.
The shadow is in all the pictures still.
**July 22, 2039**: I wake up on the computer chair. Must have fallen asleep. On the walls,
drawings, black marks of charcoal. The shadow figure, again and again, many sizes,
covering the wallpaper, bedroom, living room, even bathroom.
My hands are black with charcoal. I realize I must have drawn those, but I have no memory of it.
**July 24, 2039**: The shadow is now in every picture I own. Not just the ones from
Retrieved Object, but family photographs too. It lurks behind me and Olivia in Paris.
Covers my face in the wedding photographs. Even on the physical photographs behind frames, it's there.
**July 29, 2039**: Olivia and the crew stop by. Seem horrified at the state of the apartment
and of me. Olivia convinces me to go to a hospital.
**July 29, 2039**: At the hospital now. Had a long talk with the counselor from our team. Said
this is not unusual after mission. Stress, etc. He shows me pictures, his family, my family,
random stock photographs. Asks me if I see anything in them. I tell him I don't.
It's a lie. The shadow is in all of them.
**July 30, 2039**: It's here. The feeling of the dream. *It*. I open my eyes and I know. It's
dark in the hospital room, but staring at the wall I know. It's just behind me. The dread
grows, I can't turn. If I turn, if I look at it, it's over. Even as I write this I feel it. It is right
behind me.
And then I know. We brought it here. The first picture. It wasn't *depicted* in the picture, it was *in* the picture. That's how it came to this planet. That's how it took over the data analyst's minds.
And now it's in here. It's with me.
I need to turn.
I need to see it.
But I can't see it.
I can't bear to see it.
It is not *behind* me, I realize, with horror.
It is *in* me already.
I am not in control.
I am not in control.
I look up.
The window's open.
The city lights are small down under.
The window sill is cold against my feet.
I am not in control.
I am not in co
___
/r/psycho_alpaca
| "Are you seeing this?" Andrea asked, checking the images again and again from the recordings they'd brought back into the shuttle. Hundreds, possibly even thousands of images that were never sent were filling up their computer screens. All of the shadow. I stared and stared, but even still I shook my head in disbelief.
"We have to send a message back home," I told her. She nodded, and immediately started collecting all of the photos, clicking on one to send. Smart, I thought. There was no way we would be able to send all of those back to Earth in a timely manner. Attached to the image was this small message: "Image retrived from Mars Rover Oppurtunity. Based on this and hundreds of other collected from the downed rover, the possibility of an inhabited Mars must be at least considered. Please advise."
With the click of a key, the message was being sent. "Thirteen minutes," Andrea said to no one in particular. Not that there was anyone to talk to besides myself, I thought as she turned to me. "Are we going back out there?" she asked.
I shook my head. "If this place really is inhabited, they know this terrain better than we ever will. Our best bet is to stay inside and wait for orders."
Andrea nodded, taking a seat and wiping the sweat from her forehead. A cold, heavy silence hung over the chamber of their shuttle. They had landed not even six hours ago. First priority after landing and establishing some basic cameras outside was to retrieve Oppurtunity. The top brass had considered it a "moral victory" that had to be achieved. And while to an extent both Andrea and I agreed, everyone knew it was just a way for the President and his cabinet to gloat to Moscow and the rest of the world. Rubbing my chin and feeling the soft, hairless skin of my jaw, the message had finally been sent. Now another fourteen to fifteen minutes until a response could be given.
After the silence had reached maddening levels, I finally spoke up. "What do you think?" I asked, knowing I didn't need to explain myself.
She chuckled. "I have no idea." I looked into her eyes and she mine, and I saw a rare hint of worry in her bright green orbs. She was turning red, which granted for her was nothing new, given how pale she was naturally. But I had a feeling this was something unique. "If it really is a... I don't even know if I can say it out loud." She put her hands in her face.
"Alien," I said, swallowing heavily right afterward. "This is my life."
Andrea laughed out loud at that. "It's our life, now." She closed the distance between us and took my hand.
I smiled, pulling her into a hug. We chose this mission, and now we might actually be close to encountering something unlike anything humanity had ever before. Almost as if on cue, the motion sensors on the shuttle began to go off. Andrea ran to the computer and began to move around files and folders furiously, trying to access the remote cameras. Switching to thermal vision, what the two of us saw made us shake in fear.
There were maybe ten figures, all humanoid and standing up straight. The creatures appeared to give off massive amounts of heat, which made sense given the planet's naturally cold climate. They all faced one of the cameras, and approached the devices cautiously. They appeared based on the ground around them and the fact that they had placed the cameras five feet in the air that the creatures were about six feet in height and very big, their bodies looking much wider than a normal humans. Andrea looked at me, silently asking if she should turn off the thermal setting for the cameras.
"Are we recording?" I asked. She nodded. I grimaced, inhaling before I opened my mouth:
"do it."
The thermals came off, and the beautiful Martian landscape revealed itself, along with the ten creatures. Both my and Andrea's jaws hung open in disbelief. The ten figures were almost completely black, with thick-looking utterly hairless skin. Given the camera's top notch quality, I could see the skin itself reminded me somewhat of perhaps a rhinoceros. They were all completely without any form of clothing, bearing claws on each of their paws. The creatures had no opposable thumbs and appeared to be standing on what looked like hind legs, seemingly supportive the idea that they were naturally quadrupeds. Perhaps they only went bipedal when curious or aggressive, I thought as I continued to watch them. Their only features that could be made out besides those were the small, three thin slits that went across what could be considered the creature's faces and that they had no mouth, nose, or ears. Only four thick gill-like skin folds on either side of the head running veritcally and two more running down vertixally either side of their necks. Then, the three slits began to peer open, and three slick black orbs with the faintests signs of white srrounding their outer rims.
For a moment Andrea and I stood staring at the screen, completely befuddled as the creatures slowly got closer and closer to the camera. Then their computer recieved a notification that a new message had been recieved. This somewhat shocked the both of us out of our stupor, and we stared at each other, our eyes wide and fearful.
Andrea said nothing, dashing back to her keyboard and trying to open the message from earth. The message read: "investigate further and report to us with any findings ASAP." I looked at her and she did the same. Taking a quick screenshot, Andrea then started the transmission of the photo. It would take at least a half an hour to reach them, possibly even past forty-five minutes. The entire time the creatures ventured closer and closer to the cameras, eventually just slowly circling it, watching it. Every ten minutes or so three or four of the creatures would back some ways away and lower themselves onto all fours, quickly proving some of my first thoughts when looking at them.
Eventually, the photo was sent, and some time later a message was received. Andrea immediately opened up the message, and it read out: "another shuttle is being funded for construction as this message travels for travel to Mars ASAP. Early projections suggest at most a year before launch, then the nine month journey to your destination. The United States Space Corps is sending armed military personnel as well. Your orders are as follows; Primary objective is to stay alive and collect as much data on the creatures as possible until reinforcements arrive. Secondary objective is to establish a much more permanent base as originally instructed if possible." Andrea looked at me and I responded in kind. Almost two years to wait for help, with aliens just outside their shuttle which would not likely last two years of the constant duststorms. This was going to be a challenge.
As if on cue. Andrea ran and wrapped her arms around me. "We can do this," she whispered in my ear. "Together." Whether she meant that as a way do dispel my doubts or her own I have no idea. Either way, she waa right. I knew then and there that we would persevere. We would survive the planet, its inhabitants, and most importantly we would help colonize mankind's second planet. | 2019-02-15T01:09:13 | 2019-02-15T00:26:12 | 1,526 | 52 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | The expansion into the Sol system was supposed to be the latest iteration in a pattern I had repeated dozens of times across my career. for civilisations falling just below type I, we would initiate first contact, and demand vassalisation. seventy five percent of all civilisations we encountered stopped at this step, in face of our overwhelming technological superiority it was the logical choice. The remaining twenty five mounted a quick but often bloodless defence, followed by an honorable surrender and assecsion to the empire.
The humans of Earth returned our ambassador flayed and mutilated. The humans, who up until our arrival had been at each other's throats owing to petty tribalism and coveting each other's natural resources united virtually overnight against us.
Nearly every object they produced was hastily retooled into a weapon of war. When we expended their supply of military atmospheric craft, they turned to crashing civillian transports laden with chemical explosives into our installations. The closer we came to defeating them, the more brutal they became. They hurled chemicals of crude noxious gasses at our soldiers, scorching their repsiratory organs. Platoons of soldiers that surrendered en-masse turned out to be infected with a genetically engineered plague tailored for our biology.
Children approached our armored columns, seemingly out of curiosity, which we had seen before. Except these children had explosive vests hidden under their coats, remote triggered by a vengeful parent hiding in rubble nearby.
We had been begrudgingly compared to "Romans" by more cooperative humans, refering to an ancient power that while imperialist, maintained a strong sense of professionalism and discipline. Yet in the face of such a brutal enemy, the discipline our combat units, trained for dozens of human years and battlehardened from dozens more of interplanetary campaigns began to break down. Twitchy commanders, suffering from a mental illness we had never seen, yet humans easily diagnosed as "post traumatic stress syndrome" soon gunned down approaching humans on sight, and prisoners were seldom taken.
All this only had the effect of intensifying humanity's burning hatred for our empire. What should have taken less than half of their years instead took a decade, and four armies worth of reinforcements. Finally, we had reduced their regular militaries to haggard fanatics hiding in subterranean bunkers across the planet.
Yet just before we breached the final bunker containing their leadership, and remaining military infrastructure, the leadership activated a network of missiles containing fusion warheads, hidden in previously unencountered submersible vehicles scattered across their oceans. If we couldn't have earth, nobody could. These missiles were not powerful enough to even make orbit around their planet, much less strike our staging bases on their moon. This told us that the humans had built such a destructive weapons system not for use on us, *but on each other*.
The results of the campaign had a traumatic effect not only on our soldiers, but the entire empire. The value of earth was it's breathable atmosphere, a perfect target for colonisation. Yet in the push of a button, humans made a decade of war, the deaths of hundreds of millions of our soldiers, and quintillions of credits meaningless. We evacuated and quarantined Earth, and the entire system was seen as effectively haunted.
I never saw another human again after their species' self immolation. Yet I remain haunted by one thought: If even a dozen breeding pairs of humans were to survive and persist, then our civilisation is in mortal danger. Their children would grow up in caves with respirator masks permanantly affixed to their heads, hearing tales of burning hatred, consecrating themselves as avatars of vengence before they could read. Even if it took a thousand years, they would crawl groaning and screaming out of the ashes until they could stand, and they would not sit until vengence for our crimes against their ancestors had been extracted ten times over. | "To think those simians would have enough political leverage for such demands" - The capital ships of both warring species faced in sandspace, a particularly empty region of the galaxy where war ultimatums would go to be resolved. The lack of large masses and their gravity fields meant all wreckage of ancient and recent battles alike, floated directionless, reflecting the light of distant stars, like white crystals on a beach.
"As law demands, our government and its leader stand present, as do our finest warriors who soon shall decide the fate of our species" - The human captain opens dialogue. Traditionally, it is the side that offers the ultimatum that initiates conversations, allowing for heckling from the opposing side, effectively acting as foreplay for final war.
"You hairy mongrels are little disconnected from your tribals ways. Your guerrilla war was dishonourable albeit annoying, but now you prove yourselves ignorantly incompetent, you wish for peace so fervently you'd throw away any chance of victory. DEPLOY THE FLEET" - Tens of thousands of glistening ships occupied the space between the capital monstrosities, like ants from a tree. Some humans in the ship shuddered at the sight of the fighters, many had memories of a single enemy fighter handling a full airport at the colonies. To them, humans were peasants, no culture of war, instead choosing philosophy and theology instead of training and bellic enhancement - "Your pursuit for diplomacy is a façade for your weakness, present your warriors, let us end this"
The human capital ship hummed and oppened all ports. After an uncanny delay the fighters exited and clumped together in front of the flagship.
"srepolretni uoy evigrof ew" - The Captains ghostly voice echoes in an empathetic tone. The communication channel had been left open, leaving the aliens to hear humans chanting gibberish. The rhythm of their voices blends with the vibrations of the capital ship, clearly increasing power output.
"Using your soldiers to shield a retreat? And what makes you think you're in a position to forgive... how deep must the peaceful ways run in your genome. Even forfeiting common tongue to buy yourselves time. Pitiful" - The alien fighters dart out intent on stopping the escaping ship. Precise and fatal strikes are intercepted by the massive wall of human vessels. The fighters manage to punch holes in the fuselage when all the flagships' ports light up simultaneously, time warps, and space contracts. The capital ships collide with deafening force, blasting all matter in sandspace out of existence. The Captain opens the comms and speaks. On Earth, the broadcast of the ultimatum shows the ships and matter spawning backwards out of a supernova and blip into nothing. The final message is heard from the aliens to which the anchor replies: "No, we CHOOSE peace". | 2022-08-05T21:12:29 | 2022-08-05T16:23:55 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] Two prison guards discuss a prisoner who is apparently immortal. He's been in jail with a life sentence for so long that no one knows the reason for his imprisonment. | "Him?" Carter placed a metal bowl on the flagstones. It rang out in the quiet corridor and the guard toed it towards the reinforced door with the metal caps on his boots. "No one knows, and it's better not to ask."
Greyson gulped and nodded. In his hands he carried a cast iron pot of what was fondly referred to as 'slop' by most of the inmates. In his pocket he had a tub of salt. Only when Carter nodded did he shake it over the bowls of the substance. Today he had counted five shakes. It was a good day.
"How long's he been here?" He asked next, as they passed the only opaque wooden door in the place and moved on. Here the prisoner sat, bony arms threaded through the metal of the door. One of his eyes were missing.
"Since before my father's time," Carter shrugged. "He was called Carter too. Runs in the family."
"The family name?"
"Just so."
"And no-one's ever asked what he's done?"
"People don't want to know." Carter replied. "Shut up and get the salt out."
The prisoner sat up at that.
-------
Greyson had broken the rules. In his hands now he held Carter's keys. He had them clutched in one palm so hard he feared the iron would sear into his skin. He couldn't afford a single jingle on the ring, or he would be caught and he would be out of a job. The halls of the prison were empty, his bare feet like whispers on the cold stone floor. Only the moonlight joined him, curious in her midnight reverie. It was not often that a man walked around a prison in the dark.
The heavy wooden door groaned at the end of the corridor like a beast's maw; hot and heavy. It seemed to radiate alone, a source of its own heat and light like a candle. Greyson was drawn to it like a moth to a flame; keys outstretched, no longer caring if anyone heard.
The first key fit the lock seamlessly, as though there had never been any doubt that it would be the right one. The door swung open on heavy hinges and a shaft of the moon's pale light threaded its way into the cell, as if more keen than Greyson himself to be the first one to discover the reason for the prisoner's incarceration.
A huddled figure at the back wall of the cell turned around and sighed. He moved into the moonlight, quieter than a shadow, soft as a murmur.
"Why are you here?" Greyson asked. "I have to know."
The prisoner glanced up and the moon fell upon his face like a stream of silver.
"I am here for curiosity." He told Greyson. The moon shifted in the sky, the wind howled. The door slammed shut, the light was gone, and so was the prisoner.
Greyson was alone.
------
For stories I wrote sober which make sense, check out /r/Schoolgirlerror | Concrete walls create long hallways, the cell's metal bars breaking the gray. Behind one door sits a prisoner who is immortal, and no one can remember his crime. In front of him two guards argue about his imprisonment.
"Well how can we really know that they did wrong if we can't remember what they even did? For all we know he might have served his sentence last tuesday!" Barry was sure of his argument that he should be put on strict parole.
Thomson looked back at Barry, obviously distraught by his words. "That's too dangerous, we can't have a possible psychopath on the streets. To do something that would get him jailed for so long, he must have done something deserving."
"That's not true! Some people are put in jail for financial crimes, or scams. What if he's a con artist?"
"So? We should still keep his sorry ass in jail. He did something wrong and should pay the price."
"I just don't think jails should work that way."
"Well sorry for trying to protect people like I'm supposed to."
"I'm just saying we should file a petition!"
By now, Barry was already on his last nerve. Even though he knew he was probably in there for a reason, he felt that if no one even knew that reason, then they couldn't keep him locked in jail. Barry quickly walked off uttering only "Watch the other prisoners" before arriving at the main office to try to file a petition in his name. Even though he wasn't sure he could even make one of those, he wanted to try.
In front of the jail cell Thomson felt a chill on his back. "You want to know how I got immortal? The trick is to trap you in here". Thomson felt all his energy being sucked out of him, and seeped into a cold damp feeling, t
he feeling of being stuck in a pit. His eyes now glazed over, he watched as the man who's supposed to be guarding him walked off. | 2015-06-01T18:01:47 | 2015-06-01T17:53:40 | 131 | 14 |
[WP] You're walking in the mall, and see a group of friends about to take the escalator. You can't believe your eyes; one of them is a centaur, but nobody seems to notice. "You guys know I don't like escalators. I'll go take the elevator and meet you up there," it says. Then it notices you staring. | I hear laughter and glance over toward the escalator. A group of friends is standing at the base. An impossibly tall woman is standing in the middle of them. She is more than a head taller than each of them.
“I still can’t believe that you’re afraid of escalators,” one of the other girls says. I feel myself redden, because that’s exactly why I’m standing by the elevator.
The tall woman just smiles. She catches me staring and raises an eyebrow. I blush more and quickly turn away, pressing the up button on the elevator.
I hear this sound next. This sound I can only describe as hooves hitting the tile floor. I look back and the tall woman is standing just behind me. She is not what I thought. She is tall, with long, impossibly curly black hair, and deep green eyes. What really gets me is her lower half. I’ve never seen her like. I’ve never seen a centaur before.
The elevator opens and I step inside. She follows. I keep glancing at her, until the door closes. “What floor?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice level. I fail miserably.
“Three if you please.”
I press the button. It’s also the floor I need. I look back over at her, and this time we lock eyes. I see as many questions floating in her eyes as mine. I wonder who will be the first to speak.
She takes a deep breath. “You see me, for what I truly am.” It is not a question.
I answer it anyway. “Yes. Doesn’t everyone?”
She shakes her head once. “I have a cloaking spell. Tell me, are you a member of the fey?”
“Me?” I ask, with a quick chuckle. “I’m just a college student.” | “Wait what?”
I could not believe my eyes, a real life, living centaur. Yet nobody seemed to notice? He walks over to the elevator.
“Hey man, what are you?” I said.
“Yo you got a problem bro?” He responded. I was dumbfounded. “Why do your legs look like that?” He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Don’t blow my cover, just keep on walking and pretend this never happened.” I responded, “Oh..... okay.... have a good day?” Still being puzzled, I sat down on a bench, “What the hell just happened?” I thought. Little did I know that wouldn’t be my only interaction with the mythical creatures.
“I can’t let them know my gift.” | 2019-06-18T11:24:53 | 2019-06-18T06:52:41 | 212 | 16 |
[WP] Every year, Valve attempts to publish Half-Life 3, but incredible coincidences keep it from happening. | Item #: SCP-8322
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Due to the relatively unknown nature of SCP-8322 extra precautions should be taken to contain this object. At the moment SCP-8322 exists in the code of the Valve game "Half Life 3". As this work is digital and there are near-infinite copies of it, SCP-8322's containment procedures are somewhat unprecedented. As it stands, The Foundation will do everything in their power to ensure that SCP-8322's carrier is not released to the public. So far we have delayed release through various means including restraint of high-level Valve officials (Valve president "Gabe" has been very elusive), hostile takeover of Publishing companies, and systematic eradication of any copies found by Foundation spies in Valve operations. Ideal containment procedures would be to simply delete all copies of the code but our attempts have been unsuccessful.
Description: SCP-8322 is a phenomenon associated with Half Life 3, a video game that Valve is attempting to publish. SCP-8322 is known to manifest itself in all copies of the games code and a full release of Half Life 3 would ensure the widespread epidemic of 8322.
SPC-8322's primary anomalous effect manifests when the game code is read by any computer system including PC and game consoles. Mac operating systems appear to be widely unaffected. Exposed individuals become obessed with the idea of playing Half Life 3 for hours on end resulting in weight gain, sight loss, chair cushion deflation, acute procrastination, and devalued ambitions. SCP-8322 infectees have been noted to munch voraciously while ~~eating~~ playing and consume more soda than is recommended by doctors.
SCP-8322 came to the Foundation's attention on [REDACTED] when one of the Foundations operators had the opportunity to playtest Half Life 3 and found themselves unable to do anything else for the majority of their days off.
| It's January 1, 2014 at Valve Corporation headquarters. Gabe Newell walks into his private restroom and sits down at the gold plated commode with his name engraved on a plaque on the wall above. He begins his daily struggle.
Twenty five minutes have passed since he started straining to pass the deluxe burrito he consumed the previous day. After a prolonged battle he relaxes his bowels and resigns himself to yet another BM-free day. Although a futile gesture, he carefully folds the quilted tissue and cleans himself thoroughly.
The boardroom is tense with nervous anticipation. Gabe walks up to the microphone and clears his throat. "I'm terribly sorry. Circumstances beyond my control have prevented me from allowing Half-Life 3 from moving forward." he says. Stunned silence fills the room as he trots out of the room with a pained expression on his face.
(sorry, wrote this after consuming a bottle of red wine)
| 2014-11-01T20:21:26 | 2014-11-01T20:13:13 | 698 | 29 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | The light was fading quickly, they needed to get camp set up. Mordram the warlock spoke an incantation, a small pile of tinder lit just below his fingertips. He began pulling some rations out of his pack. Aisha was busy praying to the setting sun, she wouldn’t help until the last glimmer of light left the western sky. Archibauld figured he’d at least use the little bugger until they decided what to do with him.
“Hey Eric, can you go get us some water from the river down there?” The orc perked up, he pointed at himself sheepishly, looking behind him to see if anyone else might be the target of the request. When he saw no one else moving, he hopped up; he immediately forgot the broken lyre that he had been trying, very unsuccessfully, to play.
“Elric fetch water? Yes, yes. Elric fetches the best water! You will see. The water for his friends! Best friends of Elric the music man!!!” He started galloping towards the river, only to have to turn back to grab the pail that he had forgotten at Archibauld’s feet.
Mordram spoke up once the orc was out of earshot, “Don’t get attached, we’ll have to do something about him soon. He’s a liability.”
Archibauld was setting up the tent, he noticed some blood stains on the yellow fabric, the original Eric had been carrying it,”He’s been following us for weeks—” Mordram’s eyebrow raised “—exactly, he wasn’t part of the ambush. He killed that bugbear once Eric went down.”
Aisha stood up, dusted off her knees, “I sense no ill will in him.”
“He’s going to slit our throats in our sleep, or bring a whole army of orcs down on us—” Mordram had set up a small pot over the fire, he just needed the water from the river.”—Also, I think it’s really creepy he’s trying to take over Eric’s identity.”
Aisha snorted, “He hasn’t hit on me a single time, so he hasn’t done that good a job.”
Archibauld moved on to his longbow, pulling out some oil and cloth, “Like I said, he’s been following us for weeks. How many times could he have tried to ambush us or bring his clan on us? I think he’s alone. Without Eric, we’re down one. The prophet said we needed four…”
Aisha jumped in, “Mordy, you didn’t even want Eric to come.”
“I don’t give a shit about Eric, he was a liability, too. I just don’t want a bloody orc staring over me while we sleep.” Mordram walked off towards the edge of camp, looking North to where they’d find their final destination.”—We do need a fourth…”
Archibauld clapped him on the shoulder, Mordram hadn’t heard him come up behind him, he hated rangers, “Thats the spirit, Mordy! We’ll have him sleep outside the tent, Aisha will let us know if she senses anything wrong with him.”
A rustle from the bushes alerted the three that their new companion was returning. He stumbled into the clearing with a full pail of water and three fish hanging from a string.
“Hullo friends of Elric my human person that I am! Hullo, Elric brings gifts of delicious fishes for eating with his best friends. Let Elric play beauty sounds while you burn delicious foods on fires because that is how humans like us eat delicious foods.” He dropped the water and fish by the fire, then hopped on his rock and began picking at the broken lyre.
Mordram exchanged a smirk with Aisha and Archibauld, “We’re very glad you’re back…Elric. Play us a human song for us to eat delicious foods.”
Elric chirped with glee, his grin taking up his whole face. | Bolton the doppelganger did not want to be an adventurer. He wanted to live quietly, and bake cookies. He grew tired of the constant hustle and bustle of morphing into people, committing crimes because no one trusted the Doppleganger kind. He figured his secluded life in the hills might buy him peace.
The rogue laid on his floor, blood oozing from the pan shaped dent on his forehead. The doppleganger held his frying pan, a pained look on his face.
"I didn't mean to kill you..." he muttered, letting the pan fall to the ground, and burying his smooth black face in his long alien fingers.
Bolton had awoken to the sounds of someone rummaging through his dresser. Without really thinking he'd lifted his trusty frying pan, and crept up on the black cloaked figure. The rogue, a stout fat dwarf turned and snarled at him bradishing twin black daggers.
"hey stop stealing my stuff!" Bolton said.
The rogue responded with an inept slash of a dagger. With a frightened flurry of pan blows Bolton had brought the rogue to the ground.
Now Bolton fretted. Many a doppler murdered with impunity, but Bolton never wished to do anything more than avoid trouble. He could read minds, yet he refused to. It spoiled the fun of meeting people, and knowing them. Due to this aversion to murder Bolton now stood paralyzed, unable to think of what to do with this body.
He began to poke at the stocky form, when he heard a firm knock emanating from behind his wood door.
"Durin, you oaf, you've been gone hours, what's going on."
Without really thinking Bolton became Durin. With a slam Barrin the Paladin opened the door and saw two Durins, one wearing simple clothes, the other armor. One wielded Durin's black steel knives, the other a bloodied cast iron pan.
"What's going on here?" Barrin asked.
"well um, see I fell asleep here in this cave, and then this doppleganger tried to steal my armor and knives and so I had to beat him with this frying pan?" Said Bolton.
The paladin smirked.
"I see, well good job. Now come on. We've got some ruins to explore. And next time maybe don't rob a domicile if you aren't sure it is abandoned." Barrin said.
Reluctantly, Bolton donned the dead Durrin's armor, and tools. After the paladin buried Durin, and planted a plank in the ground. The dopple busied himself inside preparing his house to be left, and Barrin wrote with a peice of charcoal from his pouch.
"here lies, Durin, a theif, a rat bastard, and a betrayer. He got himself killed robbing a good man." He wrote.
With a cool wisp of the wind following them, the newly minted Bolton/Durrin followed Barrin, not sure of the golden Haired human's destination, and worrying deeply of the state of his garden.
| 2017-09-15T09:34:26 | 2017-09-15T05:03:01 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] We had always thought that our ballistic weaponry was going to be ineffective in staving off an alien invasion. Turns out our weapons are actually quite... excessive. | To look at the stars and marvel at how small you are in the scheme of things is human nature. Every man, woman and child had that moment of awe, that moment of realization that we meager humans and all we know are but a hair on a pimple on God's ass. We are but fleeting, tiny things that could barely grasp what lie beyond the veil of our ignorance.
You can imagine, then, the shock it was to find just how capable we are compared to other sapients. Much like ourselves, they, too, were forged in fire and fought viciously with one another. Indeed, it wasn't that they weren't powerful -- they were more than capable of annihilating entire worlds and dwarfed us in size, but their shortcoming was speed. To them, we are but a flash in the pan, our lives lasting little more than a century, whereas they live for millions of years. Time simply operates on a different scale for their kind, to the point where deciphering their communications was pointless, as it was on the scale of decades for a single, simple back-and-forth conversation.
When they arrived and dropped their stealth fields, on the one hand, their missiles were overwhelming in number, a swarm being launched as their ships neared Jupiter in May of 2302 -- but as they finally neared the atmosphere of Eden Prime (formerly Mars) in December, anti-air systems quickly shot them down, a solid rumble from the air audible for weeks. The ships themselves took considerably longer, a single vessel entering our atmosphere and landing in June of 2304 -- though I'm sure from their perspective they'd completed a blitzkrieg of an attack. Caution was exercised, a single ship is a diplomatic detachment, albeit diplomacy spearheaded by the slowest missile attack ever witnessed. Years passed before the ship opened, a decade before the first demand was made.
"Surrender now or our fleet will annihilate all of your species.", was how it started, I believe -- by the end of the first sentence, it had already been three years. Truth be told, when our translators got to the word "annihilate", the GalCon fleet was given the go-ahead to destroy every last one of them. In what was to them a blink of an eye, our forces destroyed millions of their ships. They far outnumbered us, but their armor -- though thick, was incredibly soft. It's a basic principle -- the faster and smaller the projectile, the better it is at penetrating armor. And since they'd never faced an enemy that didn't take ten thousand years as "water cooler time", they'd never had the unpleasant experience of being turned to Swiss cheese by gatling railguns. They were designed to punch through light armored transport vessels, and instead, our weakest interstellar combat weapons could fire a hose of projectiles through three or four of their most formidable ships before stopping. And while they may have had a different perception of time, explosions and death still operated on the normal timescale -- far too quickly if you're on the receiving end of them, and not soon enough if you're delivering them.
Their numbers made it a year-long job, however by the time the last was destroyed, not a single one had managed to fire a return shot. The landing party were taken as captives and currently are being interrogated for more information on their world and technology, although it'd probably just be quicker to find that information out from their ship. Rumor has it the interrogation will take at least a century, perhaps two, and I do wonder what they thought of suddenly being moved (via heavy equipment) to a holding cell. To them, it must have been teleportation, for us, it was nine months construction and a week of transport.
So look up at the stars and marvel, but do not despair at the magnitude of it all. Every now and again, being a flash in the pan is a *good* thing. | The fleet descended. There was a mothership that cast a shadow over the entire state of Nebraska. The smaller, more agile ships that surrounded her were each the size of a city block. The alien ships blotted out the sun.
A single craft broke from the main fleet and landed in the town square.
Strögg the Storm of Snellmor leaped from the ship's hatch. He aimed his mighty megaphone at the astonished human crowd.
"Surrender, Earth folk!" he bellowed in a forceful, assertive tone.
There was a hush. The humans waited fearfully for annihilation.
Strögg also waited expectantly. In fact, the silence was deafening. The alien craft flocked the skies behind the moon sized bulk of the mothership. The human crowd crammed the streets.
Finally, Strögg cleared his throat. "I said, Earth folk, *surrender!"* he thundered.
Another silence. The humans were confused.
Finally one reckless soul near the front of the crowd shouted back at Strögg, the Storm of Snellmor. They shouted, "F*ck off!"
Strögg was taken aback. His mighty brow wrinkled. His mighty proboscis curled with confusion. The alien fleet blackening the sky seemed to shiver behind him.
"This," he said loudly into the megaphone, "this does not translate. I will repeat. Surrender--"
"No!" shouted the wiseass in the crowd.
"What?"
"No!!!" This time it was many people who shouted.
Strögg the Strong hesitated. "Are you sure?" he asked, crestfallen. "I have demanded your surrender with great assertiveness and aggressive body language. I have brought a great fleet. I have even used an amplification device!" He flourished the megaphone.
"No! Aliens go home!!!" The crowd began to become rowdy. Built up tension exploded in a chant. "Aliens go home!" Someone threw an egg. It hit Strögg in the visor.
Strögg's shoulders slumped visibly. His proboscis quivered. Slowly, he turned and trudged back to the hatch. With a single, disappointed backward glance, he entered the spacecraft. The hatch door closed behind him.
A cheer erupted from the crowd as the spacecraft levitated back up into the clouds. The fleet hovered harmlessly. The mothership broadcast a last message. "Meanies. Pthhhbbbt." The echoing sound of the alien raspberry lingered as the entire fleet phased out of sight.
The dumbstruck humans shook themselves and bewilderedly went upon their ways, wondering what sort of lesson they were meant to draw from this. | 2021-05-19T08:53:24 | 2021-05-19T08:00:23 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] Interstellar wars are quick, most species die of shock quite quickly. Getting shot was a death sentence. That was until humans joined the Galaxy... | "Why do you humans not die?" I asked my human captor.
"What?" He looks at me confused, at least that's what it looked like to me.
"You are beaten up, shot, bleeding. That is a death sentence for everyone....Everyone except humans. What makes you different?"
My captor laughed. "Is that the reason why you're so afraid of us?"
I looked at him angrily. "This is not funny! Many of the other races, including my own, fear you! Even right now I am afraid as my life is in your hands! But I need to know! I need to know..."
"Well, let me ask you a question. If I hit you with the back of my gun, what would happen to you?"
"Is this relevant?" I asked.
"Just answer the question and I'll tell you what you want." He replied.
"If you hit my head, it would knock me out for a day, if I'm lucky. Any other part would paralyze me for an hour due to the pain. There, you happy now?"
"The pain...I see." He mulled it over. "You guys have extremely low pain tolerance. Getting knocked out will cause them to wake up within a few minutes to a few hours, assuming there aren't any complications. An average human can walk off a punch in the body after a few seconds."
"Immobilize? A few seconds? **YOU** were still charging at us even while being shot!" I retorted.
"Oh, you mean that? I have to admit that it was painful." He said it as a matter of fact.
"That...that was enough pain to kill me 10 times over!"
"A civilian may die of shock from that much pain, but I'm a soldier. I was conditioned to handle that much." He paused.
"And besides, the pain is just there to tell me that I'm still alive. Even now I'm still feeling it." He admitted.
"You willingly subject yourselves to pain?! You guys are insane!" I yelled, terrified at the revelation.
"Hah! As if! That's called training! You guys do train, right?"
"...Yes, we do. We are trained to dodge enemy fire using harmless lasers."
"Harmless lasers- okay you know what? The moment you get back to your people, you better tell them to start training on handling pain. Start with something small then work your way up, considering I'm here to tell you that I'm escorting you back to your people within a few days."
"I-I'm free?" I asked.
"You've been imprisoned for a while, so you didn't know, but we actually managed to get into an agreement with your government to cease the hostilities."
"I...I can't believe it. I'm going to see my family."
"Yeah. I've been a P.O.W. myself in the past so I know what you're feeling right now." He said empathetically as he unlocked my shackles.
He helped me up and said, "Come. One of the terms was that our species exchange information with each other. Is there anything you want to find out?"
I thought hard about it, then answered "I want to handle pain better."
"Huh, I kinda expected that. Alright, let's start with something small like eating something spicy."
"Eating? What does eating have to do with handling pain?" I asked.
"Oh you'll find out in a bit..." He chuckled as he led me to the base's cafeteria. | Juan wasn't sure about this.
He was recruited at the New Madrid post of the colonial marines, on Eden. It was a lush green world his parents came to settle, escaping the wave of persecution that the neo-fascist regime government of their homeland was implementing.
Joining the marines was a natural choice. He hated agriculture and didn't want to be anywhere near the giant mosquitos of his homeworld.
So it came to this. Fighting for the right of humans to settle any world they set their sights into.
He was enclosed in his "Berserker" armor. An ugly, foreboding suit of death armed with a saw-sword and machine gun. And he was facing an enormous tchoor'naim'tse, or 'veggie' as the marines call them. A plant-based species with a sap-like substance for blood and claws the size of his arm.
It roared its discontent with humanity choices and ran toward him in an ungainly, but surprisingly fast gait.
Juan was momentarily frozen. He really didn't expect to fight hand to hand, humanity had tons of "Intelligent" weapons able to strike at a foe at distance. So why was he fighting this guy?
But the intelligence guys insisted on this. "They can't take what we will deliver," they said.
Once he recovered it was already too late, the veggie was upon him, striking with one of its claws. His gun flew out of his hand, just along with two of his fingers and most of his left arm armor. Blood was everywhere.
And then he struck. A fumble really, that only managed to graze the monster before him. Who then proceeded to bleed to death.
Juan couldn't believe his eyes. Neither could the rest of the tchoor'naim'tse, who were seeing Juan bleed but not fall. "How was this possible?" thought everyone there.
And then Juan remembered there were still a lot of veggies to kill, and he still had his sword. He turned to them and fixed his sight on the nearest one. Then he started to run towards it. Yelling. With his sword raised.
The rest of the veggies started running too. To their dropship. They didn't want to get anywhere near the undying killing machine that was unleashed upon them. | 2019-10-25T09:19:31 | 2019-10-25T08:58:03 | 131 | 65 |
[WP] Your name is Karen and you just completed your final level of training. After the hair cutting ceremony, you feel a wild energy surge through your veins... you now have the ultimate power of summoning any retail store manager in the universe.
[removed] | Sergeant Karen W. (whose claim to fame was the heavily upvoted video in which she was able to call two managers down at one time) stalked along the row of teen girls, all newly minted with helmets of Karen hair crowned with sunglasses and their uniform of casual LuLaRoe tights, flip flops, and whatever ill-fitting blouse they could scrounge in Old Navy or American Eagle. She shouted, "Who do we want?"
"Your manager!" All the girls replied in levels of shrillness.
"When do we want them?"
"Right now!"
Karen stopped at the podium to take a heavy sip of her Starbucks triple, venti, soy, no foam, extra whip, latte with a single pump and *only* a single, not a *double* *are you calling me fat?* shot of pumpkin spice syrup.
She held it aloft. "In this drink, I taste the delicious future of Karens across America. I am proud to have been your drill sergeant ladies. Never give up. Always hold out for the Manager! To the class of 2019!"
The girls cheered as they dispersed, chattering over the customer service people they will torture and how they will always get what they want. Karen sipped ecstatically on her drink as the drink itself was a symbol of her power since it had taken at least three firings to train that Starbucks to serve it properly. She followed, moving at a saunter, behind the girls as they entered the academy.
When she stepped into the foyer (it's foy*er* not foyay because we aren't those awful French), something made her pause, well *actually*, it was someone.
Karen L., the one who was probably the least vocal out of the lot, was standing in front of a mirror. She touched the helmet of highlighted and lowlighted hair, staring at it with disbelief instead of the smug satisfaction that it should have caused.
"*Dear*?" the Sergeant asked.
"*Ma'am*." Karen L. stood straighter and she pulled out her cellphone as a salute, but she put it away sloppily instead of taking a selfie.
"Is there something wrong with your haircut?"
"No ma'am. I already got the discount when I called for the manager."
"Would have been better if you got it free and with a coupon for a manicure, but what's wrong?"
Karen L. frowned and it wasn't quite as effective as a resting bitch face. She paused a moment in thought and asked, "Did you ever think there could be more to life than bossing around customer service representatives?"
The Sergeant blinked. "*Moron* customer service representatives, girl."
Half-heartedly Karen L. corrected herself, "--Moron customer service representatives yeah." She shot herself a sidelong glance in the mirror and touched the helmet of hair self-consciously.
"Karen, I will tell you what my Sergeant told me before I graduated to be unleashed upon the world. We are here to ensure the quality of customer service everywhere. We are the trainers of the world when training has failed. We keep the American way strong and free. And we are the last line of defense against anti-Americanism and anti-Capitalism. In the words of our lord and saviour, Harry Gordon Selfridge, *the customer is always right*."
Karen L. nodded, but there was no glory gleaming behind her hazel eyes.
There was always one in each bunch. One that couldn't cut it and would one day accept a Happy Meal without every single toy in it because Timmy really wanted every single toy and why should she have to pay for it all?
There was always that one. | The scene of a wild west standoff began unfolding in what would be an ordinary Whole Foods bulk aisle. I didn't even need to say anything before the other customers dispersed in terror. The light indie music over the intercoms added a bizarre innocence to the standoff, like those dirty hipsters didn't know what was about to happen. I took a deep gulp of my organic hemp milk and mustered all of the essential oils in my body for this ritual,
"JEFF BEZOOOOOOOSSSSSSS!!!!!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. The glass shattered around me as a large wormhole tore that bald bastard from whatever corporate meeting he was in. He looked around in disparate confusion as he found himself in a Whole Foods in Boulder, Colorado. He turned to me, and I could see the terror in that little bitch's face. Without hesitation, I reached into my paper grocery bag and pulled out a bag of quinoa.
"Mr. Bezos, do you know where this quinoa came from?" He looked befuddled, probably still terrified after being pulled through the space time continuum to get here,
"I-I-I don't know." He stuttered, frantically pulling himself up on his feet. "I can assure you-"
"IT CAME FROM SICUANI, PERU!" I roared, the energy pulsing through my veins. "DIDN'T YOU KNOW THAT THE WORKERS IN SOUTHERN PERU AREN'T COMPENSATED PROPERLY FOR THEIR WORK AND THEIR COMMUNITIES ARE AFFECTED BY SELLING THEIR MAIN CROP!? I DIDN'T PAY TWENTY DOLLARS FOR AN OUNCE OF FAIR TRADE ORGANIC QUINOA ONLY TO LEARN THAT IT WASN'T FAIR TRADE!?!?" Storm clouds gathered above as the ceiling of the building tore asunder. Tornado winds mustered and soared around us as I moved in for the kill,
"I WILL NEVER TAKE MY UNVACCINATED KIDS TO THIS AUTISM FACTORY AFTER SOCCER PRACTICE EVER AGAIN, AND I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT NO ONE EVER WILL. I HAVE-"
"No! Don't say it!" Jeff screamed, tears gushing down his face as he realized his fate.
"I HAVE SHARED THIS ON FACEBOOK!"
"Noooooooooo!" The kombucha in my stomach channeled into a powerful pulse of energy that annihilated Jeff Bezos into oblivion where he stood. Before me were the ashes of the richest man in the world. And I wasn't even close to done.
"SOMEONE! GET ME A KALE SALAD! I have work to do..." | 2019-05-26T12:15:47 | 2019-05-26T12:06:22 | 379 | 126 |
[WP] "As payment, I demand your firstborn!" the demon said. "Deal!" You said, hastily signing the contract to seal the deal. "Good luck with them, sucker!" | "So, you want my firstborn. The first child I carried and bore. The one over there. That's the price? I give him to you, and I get wealth and power?"
"YES."
"And what happens to him afterwards is none of my business or concern?"
"YES"
"Deal. Do I need to sign something?"
"BEHOLD. SIGN HERE. AT THE TERMINUS. IN BLOOD."
"Kinky. Lemme nick my finger . . . done."
"THE TRANSACTION IS COMPLETE. WE WILL TAKE THE BOY NOW. YOU WILL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN."
"I'm not sure about that. His father is supposed to have him next weekend."
"WE CARE NOTHING FOR YOUR ARRANGEMENTS. THEY ARE MOOT. THE BOY IS OURS NOW."
"Well, I've got my money and power, which is what I wanted. Bye!"
\* \* \*
I went on a bit of a shopping spree after that. New clothes, some new furniture, a TV, and a brand-new gaming rig that I put in my son's room. Former room, I guess. Also a bottle of 21-year-old single-malt scotch, which I put aside for later.
Sunday night, I was relaxing in my new overstuffed recliner, watching Omar testify against Bird and enjoying some of that scotch, when the room burst into flame and smoke and a horned figure unveiled himself from behind leathery wings. Sighing, I put my glass atop a coaster on the new end table.
"You don't really need to do that."
"DAMNIT, JANET. YOU CANNOT SELL OUR SON."
"I didn't ask to birth the Antichrist. I was rather staunchly against the idea, if you'll recall."
"IT DOESN'T MATTER. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH *TROUBLE* HE CAUSED DOWN THERE?"
"Isn't that the idea? Causing chaos, upsetting the established order, bringing about the End Times?"
"YES, BUT NOT IN **MY** DAMNED KINGDOM!"
"If you paid child support, I wouldn't need to pull that kind of swindle. You should probably tell those arrogant morons you've got working for you to check the kid's full parentage before signing one of their deals. "
"*THAT* DEMON WILL BE MAKING NO FURTHER DEALS. EVER"
"Aww, too bad. I liked him. So anyway, anything I need to know about?"
"NO. I RETURN DAMIEN TO YOUR CUSTODY. HE IS GROUNDED FOR THE NEXT WEEK. HE KNOWS WHAT HE DID."
"Sure, no problem."
\* \* \*
The flame and smoke vanished without a trace, and I stuck my head into Damien's room.
"How was your trip to Hell?"
"C'mon, Mom. You know you're not supposed to do that."
"I know, I know. But you were heading there anyway, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I got you something."
"I saw, and it's nice, but Dad says I'm grounded."
"Yes, and I'll expect you to abide that. But you should at least fire up the rig and see how it works. Bedtime is still 9:30."
"Thanks, Mom! You're the best!"
"Good night, son. I love you."
"I love you too, Mom."
The good thing about single-malt scotch is that there's no ice to melt, so my drink was still waiting for me when I got back to my show. Omar's got the shotgun, Levy's got the briefcase, and I have the world's most unwieldy custody arrangement, but it's all in the game, right? | The label on my bottle of Peroni was mostly peeled off now. Peeled off beer labels: the ultimate sign of a dull evening at the pub. "I just can't get through to him!", the familiar sentiment barely registering with me. I nodded, "hm."
"He just sits there all day and plays his stupid games. He even wears the fedora at his desk, I mean what is that all about?". I chuckled to myself, but noticed him blink as he registered the insensitivity. I used to have the same thoughts.
"He carries this silly sword thing around, and when I tell him to bathe or use some deodorant he holds the handle like I'm going to be threatened or something, and tells me not to 'threaten his autonomy'. Who even talks like that?"
I took another swig of beer. Empty, now. I need to either get another bottle, or maybe something stronger, or find my excuse to leave. God, this is what I used to put my friends through?
"I keep telling him he needs to study, that his animated girlfriend game won't help him be the next Dark Lord. I feel bad talking so critically about my ward, but honestly it's pathetic". He downed the rest of his whiskey. It was mostly full, and he failed at hiding the wince as the vapours hit the back of his throat. Slightly rasping, he said "you want another? It's on me."
"Honestly I'd love to, but I need to get back, to..." God, what do I say? I've gotten rid of that little bastard. If there was one thing he was ever good for, he was an excuse to leave boring company. "...I need to get back and call my mother, she just got out of hospital after a health scare". No idea where that lie came from. I'll have to remember I said that the next time I see him. "Oh, wow, I had no idea, hope she's okay".
"I think she's fine, I just need to check up. Anyway, good to see you. Good luck with it all". As I stood up he gave a half-hearted smile and said "you too, mate. See you later, hope you enjoy the gift I gave you". I glanced back as I walked out of the door. He was rubbing his face with his hands as he approached the bar, no doubt ordering another double whiskey. "Cheers!", I shouted to the bar staff as I left, the cute bar girl nodding back - the most interesting conversation I'd had all evening. The awkwardness faded from my mind as I walked away down the road. My slow pace turned into a confident stroll, as I revelled in the fact that I was no longer the father of a weeb. I could feel my lengthy member gently tapping my leg just above the knee as I walked. Totally worth it. | 2022-08-31T20:13:58 | 2022-08-31T16:25:22 | 134 | 29 |
[WP] You have an imaginary friend. Or are you their imaginary friend? Neither of you know anymore... | I mean, think about it. Isn't it weird?
Here you are, and you feel like you experience the world; sight, sound, taste... But can you be sure?
I'll give you an example: if you were able to load all the information that is transmitted to your brain when you see a meadow field, for example, to a computer, does this computer “see'” the meadow field?
It has all the information available inside its system, and it can certainly react to the visual data, if it is programmed to do so. But does the meadow
field play in this little conscience theater that we have inside of us, inside the computer? Does it actually *see* it?
It's the same with us. We are both real, in the sense that we are both manifestations of reality. By us I actually mean you and me, by the way. The reader and the character inside the story. The real person and the
imaginary one. Neither of us can be sure if the other experiences the world like we do, so both of us think we are the
real deal, while the other is just a fake.
But truth is, maybe we are both real, right? The fact that you are reading this makes me real, in a way, even if I am an
imaginary character in a story. You are projecting my existence into the universe by reading these words and giving them a
voice, a personality, quirks, etc.
*Llama Orgy.*
You see? I said Llama Orgy, and now your perception of me has changed. I made a silly llama sex joke out of the blue,
and you see me less like a philosophical nerdy character and more like a silly guy. I am changing even as you read this. Just like people change.
So what's to say that these bits, these strings of ones and zeros separating you -- a human being -- from me -- an idea -- are not, in themselves, a sort of
portal connecting two realities?
I am not saying I experience the world like you do. I probably don't (although there is no way to be sure, right?). I'm
saying that I do exist in the universe, in some sense. I manifest myself trough reality and I affect it. I'm changing the
course of matter right now, guiding the way your eyes move across the screen and the way your synapses do their stuff
inside your brain.
Even though I am, by no means, physical, I have a direct connection to the physical world, and I can change and mold it.
Isn't that something?
So, what's to say that I am any less real than you? In fact, what's to say that, in a sense, my existence isn't actually *more* real than yours? That I am not actually the real deal, while you are just a transitory phase of matter, accidentally glimpsing into the real world of ideas through a crude computational system you call a brain.
After all, you are the one that's going to die one day, not me. In a sense, I'll always be real, while you just exist for a
tiniest fraction.
So, yeah, maybe you're the fiction and I'm reality, bro.
Anyway, thanks for reading me. | The room was no longer a room. It was a flat expanse of white. There was no walls or ceiling that was distinguishable. There might have been, but the seams faded into white.
I knew that this room was probably my brain.
I knew this because Taylor knew this.
Taylor was fifteen years old. He lived in a small house in the suburbs. His favorite color was red. He enjoyed riding his bike, video games, and hanging out with friends.
I was his imaginary friend.
...Or it was the other way around.
He might be *my* imaginary friend.
I was fourteen years old. I lived in a slightly larger house in the same suburbs as Taylor. My favorite color was blue. I enjoyed playing video games, hanging out with my friends, and playing the violin.
Me and Taylor had "met" in the first grade. However, we'd been seeing each other less and less as time went on.
Now it was time to say goodbye.
However, I wasn't sure who was saying the "big" goodbye. You know. Fading away. Death, for lack of any better words.
He sat cross-legged wearing a red T-shirt and jeans, a counterpoint to my blue T-shirt. This white expanse was either my mind or Taylor's. There was one real friend and one imaginary.
"Hello," I said. My voice seemed to stretch to infinity.
"Hey," Taylor said back.
"So."
"One of us is imaginary," Taylor said. He scratched his face a little. "What's going to happen?"
"Are you real?" I asked.
"I wouldn't know," he asked. "Is there a Taylor? Or is there just you?"
I felt a shake rumble through the room. It was time to awaken. The sleeper would wake up without the company of the other. Our time was almost up.
"Taylor," I said. "If you're real, then good luck."
He nodded. "Same to you, buddy."
The white was pierced, starting from the top. Slowly, the white expanse ripped apart. In that moment I knew just how mortal I was. Because once that tear reached me, I might be gone.
I closed my eyes and awaited the end. | 2014-12-10T16:57:25 | 2014-12-10T16:49:38 | 17 | 12 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world. | "This isn't possible!" the man screamed, as the guards dragged him into my office. "How! How the hell did you find me?"
"That's not the important thing, Mr. Spencer." I said, calmly, as the guards pinned him face down to my desk. "The important thing is after my firm put up the money for your bail, you attempted to skip out on your court date. Unacceptable, Mr. Spencer. *Unacceptable."*
"Your damn tracker *can't* have worked!" he snarled, as they lifted up his shirt, exposing a thin, recently healed scar. "I was picked up in an air car with a lead-lined interior! They flew me around the city for hours and *verified* we weren't followed or observed from any angle! My safe house is 30 feet underground, inside a F*araday cage!* There's no signal on Earth that can penetrate that!*"*
"Apparently there is." I muttered, as I withdrew the extractor from my desk drawer and placed it over the implant site on his back.
"How did you do it?" he pleaded, a wavering, almost panicked obsession creeping into his tone. "I don't even care that you caught me anymore, I just want to know *how!* Your men were at my location before I could even have the damn implant pulled out! It's not possible, it---*AHG!"*
He snarled in pain as the extractor's laser scalpel automatically made a quick, clean cut, sucked out the implanted capsule, and then resealed the incision with a medical adhesive.
"How do I always know where each shipment I insure for my clients is? How do I know the location of every priceless piece of art or errant trust-fund child I'm hired to look after? These are the secrets of my trade, Mr. Spencer. They're not for the likes of you." I said calmly, putting the extractor away and palming the implant out of his sight.
"Tell me! Please, for the love of God, *how* did you do it?!" he wailed, tears of frustration filling his eyes as my guards dragged him away. I shook my head -- bad risk. I shouldn't have given him the chance to try and screw me over. But then, there was never *really* a chance he'd get away with it.
I looked down at the metal capsule in my hand, and smiled as I opened it, revealing the tiny, old fashioned brass key inside.
They were common when I was a kid, but these days electronic locks have replaced them for almost everything. If not for some lateral thinking, that would have made my particular gift almost useless.
You see, unlike most people, I never, *ever* lose my keys. | Sitting comfortably in my favorite Chesterfield armchair in front of a multi-monitor set-up, I watch an endless sequence of market tickers. TSLA is bright green on my monitor, it means its price is still growing. Elon must have bullshitted his investors into some more money, I don’t know. AMZN is falling, it’s in the red, bad for Jeff, must have missed the estimates. I don’t even follow market news anymore, even though I tried to at first. I close my terminal and go for a lunch, as I have nothing to worry about. I start reminiscing on my life prior to when I learned how to use my little blessing.
Being a taxi driver is no fun. Your back hurts all the time, tips are a miracle and people are godawfully nervous, especially when traffic jams occur. I somehow always knew whether a traffic jam is going to dissolve in minutes or take hours just by looking at my tablet with google maps, so I had that little edge over my colleagues-slash-competitors. I couldn’t predict jams, I just knew how long they stayed that way.
So one day I’m riding with a banker who’s late for work and he leaves his coat in my car. Not wanting any trouble, I follow him into his office building with the coat thrown over my hand, intending to give it back to him and leave. What I saw there changed my life forever and showed me the meaning of my little blessing. I saw a huge panel showing market tickers, glowing red and green.
You see, my blessing is not to predict traffic. It’s to predict when something green becomes red and vice versa. | 2018-06-30T14:13:13 | 2018-06-30T12:30:43 | 8,960 | 2,597 |
[WP] You obtained the ability to experience life as it is for others. After trying out a few people you realize that the general "living feeling" differs enormously to each person. You decide to try it on your super cheerful friend... you have never felt such emptiness before. | Blank. That's the best word I have to describe it.
Let me explain. When I touch someone's neck, I can experience how they generally feel. And people are different. Some are flowery, almost petal-like. Others are smooth slabs of stone. Those having a rough time, they can be turbulent storms.
I've been telling my friends that by touching their neck, I can help them figure out what they're feeling. So far, it's been great.
Until today.
You see, Xander has always been super cheerful. He's never seemed to have problems, and has an optimistic view. In fact, he usually makes the rest of us laugh.
So when I touched his neck, I expected a carnival. A party. A festival.
Not a void.
There was just, nothing. It was like a blank canvas, except even a canvas is white. A canvas has a physical presence. This...
Xander could see me recoil. "Hey, you okay?"
"I, yeah. It's just -- there's nothing *there*."
Xander's smile dropped. "I don't understand. I mean, I'm cheerful all the time, I make people laugh...can you look again? Maybe you got a bad connection or something."
I sighed. It didn't really work like that. "Sure, I'll take another peek."
This time was harder though. It's like a cold lake. If you don't know it's cold, you can plunge right in. But if you do know, you try to ease yourself into it bit by bit, which paradoxically makes it 10 times worse.
Again, it was empty. Just, nothing.
Wait. There was speck. In the center of it all, if that makes any sense. I, uh, "reached" out to it.
If the emptiness was a cold lake, this was a red hot poker. And this feeling, I had to dust it off:
>!~~I'm a girl~~!<
I didn't understand. Was this the cause of it?
At the same time, I could feel Xander getting restless. "Hey, is everything okay? Maybe I should go. A dude's gotta do stuff, ya know."
What I did next was probably wrong. But I couldn't help it.
I broke it open.
And that void, that emptiness, *flooded* with pain and anguish.
And Xander burst into tears.
"What the fuck did you do?! No, I... I'm not this! I'm going." Xander bolted up, breaking the connection.
"Wait! I can explain."
"Fuck off," he spat. "Everything was okay. I had it under control! I was -- I was nice to be around. This, no one's going to accept this."
And he stormed out. | Falling back into my body had never felt so comforting. It was full. It was me. It was normal.
What I just experienced, that was far from it.
"Carla, can I ask you a serious question?"
"Sure Dave! How can I help you!"
"Is everything okay?"
"I...uhhh....Yes, why do you ask?"
"I'm just really good at reading people, and you don't seem yourself today."
She shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I have a lot going on right now. Me and my husband found out we were pregnant. Last night, well..." Her head hung towards the floor.
I placed my arm on her shoulder. "What is it Carla?"
"John came home from the bar last night three sheets to the wind. You know how he is when he drinks. Well, he tripped and took me down with him. I haven't felt pain like that before. I started bleeding right then and there."
"Oh dear" Now I'm wondering why I even asked. Leave well enough alone Dave.
"Yeah, cut my elbow pretty good. We got it all bandaged up though. We had a pretty good laugh about it afterwards!"
"Oh, you don't mean.."
She cut me off immediately. "No, no, no. We didn't lose the baby. I just worry about John spending so much time at the bar. But I guess he should get it out of his system now rather than later, right?"
"Yeah, I suppose so. Give me a second, I'm getting a call. Man this job really sucks your soul out of you doesn't it?"
She picked up the phone. "This is Carla with IT, how can I help you?" | 2018-05-23T12:25:46 | 2018-05-23T11:55:14 | 202 | 104 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | "Sir, we're under attack!"
"By who?! Who *dares* attack me in my own home!"
"It's... Doctor Whittaker?"
That was when the lab's primary blast door came crashing open, and I walked in, at the head of fifteen identical copper robots, the Tommies. Jason, my right-hand robot, towered over me, standing slightly back as he did. An evil super genius, it had only taken me three hours to find this place, much less bypass it's defenses and crash the front door. I normally wouldn't do such a thing. Such bold action was not my style, but... the situation had changed.
I had been the city's resident supervillain for fifteen years. This was my town, as much as the resident superheroes thought otherwise. We had clashed endlessly. I loved the game. I would pop up, cause some trouble, maybe rob a bank or two with my Tommy robots, the heroes would show up, they'd trounce me, I'd go to jail for a few weeks, maybe a month or two, break out, and do it all over again. Every time I'd have some new scheme or weapon, sometime to try and keep these heroes on their toes.
But that had changed when General Pyrox showed up. He was different. He was truly evil. He had come after me, specifically. I assumed he was another hero, and he "defeated" me. Crushed my army of Tommies, destroyed my lair, and left me to wallow in the ruins of my empire. Yada yada. The superheroes showed up and beat him, and let him escape, thinking he was on my level.
But then Pyrox broke the rules.
Alice Utonium had disappeared. She was a young girl, with a very loose definition of girl. The adorable little thing was little more than a brain and some organs inside a nuclear-powered, combat-ready metal shell. She was the city's favorite daughter. Then she was dropped off at the mayor's office completely stripped of her full-body prosthetic, her life support barely keeping her brain alive. Pyrox had left a note, too, so the whole city would know it was him. He wanted them to be afraid.
That's not how the game is played.
I could see Pyrox sneering down at me from his platform. He liked to be above everyone. He gestured and his own robots rushed in from the doors around the room. Big, ugly machines with claws and guns and spikes. Machines meant to kill. To terrify.
Pyrox puffed his chest at me.
"You! You dare come here?! After our last battle?!"
I glared back.
"Yes. I'm here because you've done something *very* bad. And you have to pay the consequences."
Pyrox smirked.
"You've lost it, old man. And you're about to lose a lot more. You should have just stayed buried."
"You're the one who's going to end up buried, Pyrox. Tommies, wreck this place."
"Don't threaten *me*, old man. You can't do anything. Don't you remember the last time? You'd need a thousand of those toys to defeat even one of my Excutioners!"
At my command, the Tommies began marching ahead. Pyrox's Executioners did the same. The Tommies weren't... complicated machines. In fact, they were little more than some steel plates and some clockwork, with some computerty bits to make them run. Not strong, or smart, or fast, but they could do almost anything I asked them to. I was slowly upgrading them over time, just to try and keep the city's heroes on their toes. They were just... a hobby of mine. Something for when I was bored. Jason, my right-hand machine, was what I made when I was serious. He could outrun cars, he could lift dump trucks, and he could leap tall buildings. He was more than a match for the Executioners, but... Things had changed.
The two robots clashed together near the middle of the room, metal meeting metal, and I could see the look on General Pyrox's face when my Tommy robot caught his Executioner's fist in mid-air. The normally half-lidded eyes of the Tommy spun, turning into a facsimile of a scowl. And the general's eyes went wide when the Tommy, maybe half the size of his opponent, punched through the chestplate to rip out the power core.
Jason was what I made when I was serious.
The Tommy-2s were what I made when I was *angry*. | **Quanta.. wake-up.. Quanta..**
( Quanta gasps )
Q: Where am I? Did we catch Mint master?
Me: ...
A robot walks in and hands over my medication.
Q(angrily): You... You're Mint master. You kidnapped me...
Mm: yes.. I'm the great Mint master. Your favourite supervillain. How you're doing?
( Comes to light)
Q: You're... you're...quadriplegic. How.. how did you managed to escape from our Guild for past 10 years?
Mm: Well... For starters, I'm super intelligent that put me on wheelchair. You're the only super intelligent hero that I encountered in all these years. Smart enough to reach my lair.
Q: I'm gonna lock you up. You caused enough damage to the city. You're coming with me.
Mm: You see... I'm not gonna run. But, Hear me first.
Q: I'm gonna crush you.
Mm: After a month of stasis? Would be a surprise if you can sit on your own. Think about it. Why didn't I kill you?
Q: ... I don't understand. Why didn't you kill me? I flew too close to your lair. I was about to call backup. And.. and your robots ambushed me... nerfed me...
Mm: You're right. Don't push your mind yet. I nerfed you and brought up here to treat your condition. Were you having headaches lately?
Q: Yes.. a lot. My head was exploding. How do you know all these?
Mm: I know about you. I monitor all of you. See... This is FireHead.. burning at 400’ Celcius. Stephen is running 100 mph. And...
Q: Why did you capture me?
Mm: Superheroes suffer from super diseases. With your condition, you would've ended up just like me. So I baited you and put in the healing chamber for a month.
Q: But why you're helping me? You're a supervillain.
Mm: I've always been helping you. All of you guys. I'm monitoring and pushing you to the limits.
Q: Liar... Your robots thrown FireHead out of a 50 storey building. And tried to crush Carbino. Let me out...
Mm: Don't you see it. I thought you're smart. Didn't FireHead flew after we throw him? And Carbino.. she prefers to be called DiamondSkin now. And, Jacob aka MadFish, heard he cleared all his debts and landed in a stable job. We don't have time to argue... Superpal is dead.
Q: What..?? no..no.. that's not possible. No one can kill him. He's invincible. Did you kill him?
Mm: No.. no.. He's my favorite. His heart is gold. That's why I woke you up. You need to trust me. Your friends are in danger. And I don't have time to prepare them. They'll listen to you.
Q: I'll tell them what you did to me. What you did to all of us.
Mm: I don't want them to trust me. I just need them alive. *Kolaikaran* is here in our city. You need to gather all your friends and train them. Use my supercomputer – you'll know what to do to push their limits. We don't have time. You stand strong together.
Q: Thanks Mint.. I won't forget what you did for us. Stay safe.. and I promise I'll keep everyone safe. | 2021-05-20T09:54:43 | 2021-05-20T08:42:02 | 46 | 28 |
[WP] The "violent videogames teach you how to use a gun" thing is true for you. Literally. Everything you learn in videogames, you can do in real life as well. You realize you have that power when you drink an energy drink after a bad injury and you find yourself completely healed. | I held the gun to my head, my finger grazing the trigger. I was hesitating, I knew that. Guess that's normal when you're contemplating blowing your brains out.
But, I had to know. Ever since I broke my leg, it was the one thing I knew I had to try. One thing you should know is that I'm a "gamer". I don't like using that word, but it's the easiest way to say that I play videogames. Assassin's Creed, Bioshock, Mario and Fire Emblem are some of my favorites.
Well, the day I broke my leg, I was playing football with some buddies from college. I was running with the ball in hand, tripped and had a nasty fall. Before I knew it, I was on the ground screaming like a dying whale. Some of my friends laughed, assholes, but one brought me some alchohol. I suppose he tought it would help with the pain, for some reason. Whatever. The thing is, once I gulped it down, I was fine. I could move my leg again. The others passed it off as me being a big baby and just slightly spraining it, but I knew I had broken it.
Later that day, out of morbid curiosity, I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and cut myself with a knife. It wasn't a serious cut, just a surface wound on my finger, but it stung like hell. I drank some of the beer and, just like that, it was gone.
At first, I thought that the alcohol was magic. Or that I was going nuts. Freaked out, I went to bed inmediately and tried to not think about it. The next day, I woke up and passed of last night's events as a dream. That, however, didn't last long.
On my way to work, something bizarre happened. The people... they were glowing in different colors. Most of them were blue. I saw some red pass by, and noticed that they were cops. I closed my eyes and shaked my head. It was back to normal. Just then, I saw a car speeding towards me. Later I learned that the person had lost control. It was too fast. No matter what I did it would have hit me. My first reaction was to jump over it, so I jumped. I jumped six feet in the air.
I didn't go to work that day. Called in sick. I went home, and a wild idea starting forming in my head. What if... playing videogames have given me these powers? Drinking alcohol to recover health like in Bioshock, Eagle Sense from Assassin's Creed and the jumping prowess of Mario.
So, I figured, what's the thing all videogames have in common? You can't die. If you gameover, you just load an earliet save. So, that's where I am. Holding a gun to my head to prove my theory. Is there a less extreme way to do it? Maybe. But I need to know. My curiosity is killing me.
I am determined. I press on the trigger. A thought crosses my mind as I do it.
"What about Fire Emblem's permadeath?"
| I sat there on my bed having just gotten home from food shopping. I looked at the cut on my hand from when I had accidently cut myself helping my dad earlier today. I took a mouthful of my energy drink, by time the fluid went down my throat the cut was gone. I thought I was hallucinating so I grabbed a knife and cut a shallow mark in my arm, took another mouthful and BAM, its gone again.
I picked up my laptop and logged onto one of my favourite games: World of Warcraft. I logged onto one of my Fire-mages and cast every spell on a test dummy before grabbing my drink and going for walk. I walked towards the river nearby. Its a 10 minute walk. as I stood by the river, alone in the night sky, I considered what spell I'd try first. I stared at the waters until i spotted something I could target. I saw an old dirt bike, all rusted and useless. I closed my eyes and held my hands a few inches apart. "Pyroblast" I muttered under my breath, a sensation of heat between my palms. I opened my eyes and swung my arms forwards. a ball af flame flew towards the bike, plunging into the water and died out after hitting the frame.
"what the fuck was that?!" I heard from behind me. a woman had saw what I had done? I turned to face her to see her running away from me. "POLYMORPH!" I yelled desperately, my legs trembling with fear. In a cloud of smoke, she had turned into a sheep. I walked over to her and lightly held her muzzle and made her look at me "please, tell no-one I beg of you. And dont worry. You will only be like this for a minute before it wears off." I walked back home. wondering: What else could I learn? What else could I do? Is there any limits? How much can I keep? How long does this last? Then the thought hit me: How dangerous am I? How dangerous can I become? And of course: will I get hunted as a monster? Who knows? I dont. But I'll be sure to find out | 2018-08-14T09:41:03 | 2018-08-14T07:36:53 | 658 | 49 |
[WP] Humans are one of if not the only species in the galaxy who can heal their wounds naturally. Your alien friend is learning this for the first time after they accidentally hurt you
Apologies for the wordy title | "Well shit, Greg. Your knee's fucked up." Said the Fpirt apocethary. "No way in hell can any of my potions fix that."
I sat up on the bed and took a look at my knee. It had one big cut across it, plus some minor bruising.
"What do you mean doc? I just tripped over your flimpk hose, it's nothing serious."
The Fpirt ignored my question. A new arm grew out of his head and he reached for a shelf above his head. He grabbed an empty jar, and set it down on the table beside me. His arm shriveled back into his head.
"Alright Greg, it was nice having you on this ship, now if you could please shrink yourself, it would be delightful." He said as he opened the jar.
"What? I'm not even a Fpirt, how can I even shrink myself? And why do you even need me to do that?" I asked.
"Oh so you humans can't shrink yourselves? Ok, guess I'll do it for you." The apocethary said, looking mildly surprised.
Before I could do anything, he forced my mouth open, and stuck one of his flimpk hoses down my throat. He pumped some of his own slime down the hose, and then removed the hose and safely stored it inside himself.
I involuntarily swallowed the liquid.
The Fpirt called for the onboard Fpirt priest.
I took a look at my fingers, they were down to the size of an old school battery.
The priest walked in.
My palms started to shrink to match the size of my fingers. And I realised that my feet had followed a similar process.
Both the priest and the apocethary made their appendages shrivel into themselves, and they were left as two blobs with nothing but a pair of eyes and a flimpk hose.
My legs and arms began to shrink. My vocal cords were still full with the Fpirt juice, and I couldn't speak.
The priest began to spew a purple gas from his hose, and the room smelled of burned gunpowder.
I had difficulty breathing, my torso was the size of an infant's head.
The priest stopped, and grew a single arm with 3 fingers right under his flimpk hose.
By then I had completely shrunk. I was no bigger that a pigeon.
The priest picked me up, and placed me in the jar. He extended his flimpk hose into the jar and spewed more of the purple gas.
I threw up the Fpirt juice. Coughed a couple times, and looked up. The apocethary was about to close the jar shut. I shouted, as loud as I could, but my voice was incredibly high pitched. And neither of the Fpirts could hear me. The apocethary picked up the jar, and carried me towards an airlock. I banged on the glass, but to no avail.
The priest had a sad look on his face, he moved his eyes to behind his head. The apocethary placed the jar on a small panel near the airlock. He grew an extra arm, and reached for the release button. My fate was sealed. I was stuck in my own Fpirt funeral. I gave up banging, and sat down in the jar.
"God damn it, Greffikqr! Are you trying to jettison one of the crew again?" My human shipmate, Isaac walked into the room. "That damn funeral gas smells like shit. What the fuck is it for?"
The apocethary moved his eyes towards Isaac. "He's got a cut on his knee, I was just making sure he died with honor instead of bleeding dry like a peasant." Greffikqr replied as he put his hand on the lever again.
"For fuck's sake Gref, a human won't bleed to death from a tiny ass cut. It's probably clotted already, what the fuck!" Isaac shouted at the Fpirt.
He walked towards the jar and opened it. I stoop up in excitement and raised my arms. He carefully picked me up, and set me down on the bed.
"Isaac, how dare you interrupt a Fpirt funeral! That man is dead, accept it!" The priest extended an arm toward Isaac to try and stop him.
Isaac slapped it away. "You fucking Fpirts and your funerals. Do you have any idea how many spacewalking sessions we've had to do out to get perfectly healthy men from your damn jars? Humans aren't protected by a thin ass membrane, we've got layers upon layers of shit. His insides won't spill out for fuck's sake. Look, his knee has healed already!" He picked me up and showed my knee to the Fpirts.
Greffikqr extended his eye to take a closer look, and was surprised to see that my knee was no longer bleeding. "Wow! You guys are like fucking superheroes! I can't believe it!"
"Got it now? Humans aren't giant cells like you are, Ok? Now fix Greg and get him back to his station. Fucking twat masters." Said Isaac before he promptly left the room, followed by the priest.
Greffikqr grew a second tiny Flimpk hose, and stuck it down my throat.
This was my first WP, and English isn't my first language so sorry for any errors. Also sorry for the shitty formatting, I'm on mobile. I'll probably edit this later.
| I frown, my friend’s blade has inflicted a cut on my hand. I say friend but in truth he is more like the only being on this godforsaken planet that doesn’t want to kill me.
I was left stranded here after my ship crashed, and it’s going to be a while before the UN’s rescue vessel gets here. At first I was happy to know that there was a dominant sentient species on this planet, but imagine my disappointment when I find out their tech level is only similar to ours at during the Middle Ages.
The reason most of this planet’s inhabitants want me dead is, in a similar fashion to why people generally wanted other people dead in the Middle Ages - religion. It so happens that my spacecraft remotely resembles the Chariot of B’arat, a mythical servant of their Demon God.
And the reason why my friend here, Tukka, isn’t afraid of me, is because he’s a scientist. He doesn’t believe in the existence of deities, which is pretty much unheard of around these parts. I’d like to think that after my departure, he becomes a sort of philosophical pioneer that will inspire generations of Muno (their species) to take an interest in the sciences. But more likely is that he will be executed for blasphemy.
Back at the more urgent matter at hand, the cut is quite deep and I will need to disinfect it before bandaging. I take out my first aid kit, which is on my person at all times, and get to work.
Tukka turned around and presented his tail to me, he was apologizing the only way he knew how, by offering me to take a bite of his tail. I have seen many alien civilizations, and this is by far the weirdest apology-related custom. “I have done you wrong, Sky Friend!” He shouted. He calls me that because I simply told him I’m from a distant place in the sky, since interstellar travel would have taken ages to explain.
“No, there’s no need. You keep that.” I smiled and shook my head.
“Are you insulting Tukka? Your hand will look hideous from now on! You must take my tail.” Tukka is insistent, he didn’t seem to realize how absurd his request was, especially for something as small as a cut.
“It’s okay, these kinds of things happen when two grown adults spar with real swords.” I declined. That being said, I do regret sparring with him. For all their flaws (and there are many), the Muno are exceptionally strong. Their swords look just like ours though, I guess there’s a common theme among Middle Ages-level weaponry no matter where you are in the universe.
“Tukka will grief for the rest of time.” He finally conceded. Then, he looked at me as I wrapped my wounded hand in bandages. “What are you doing, Sky Friend?” He asked while displaying an emotion that was probably puzzlement. Their facial features are honestly so funny looking, I could never tell.
“Bandaging my wounds, so the bleeding stops and gives it time to heal.” I explained. At this point I could already guess why he was confused. Apparently humans are one of the only intelligent species in the galaxy that can heal naturally, we were taught that in middle school. I guess Mother Nature really has her eye out for us.
“What?!” Yep, he was shocked. I’m not going to bother explaining though, I’ve learned during the past few weeks that doing so would only result in a never-ending barrage of questions. He paused for a moment before nervously asking if I could give him some.
“Sure.” I replied, handing him a packet of bandages.
We parted ways as their star set. I returned to the emergency capsule that has been my abode ever since the crash, and Tukka went home with bandages in hand.
The next day, Tukka met me at our usual meeting spot, a spring in the woods. He seemed angry, and I could see that one of his four upper limbs was covered in bandages, which were seeped in blue blood.
I immediately inspected the wound and asked him how it came about. He explained, quite angrily I might add, that he was testing the healing properties of the bandages for science, by impaling himself in the upper limb…and that it does not work.
Oops, I probably should have mentioned that it was my cells that do the healing, not the bandages. | 2017-05-11T02:26:03 | 2017-05-11T00:14:30 | 139 | 98 |
[WP] A vampire meets a local human they feel would make a great vampire. They're hedonistic, intelligent, masterfully artful, and live with no regard to consequences. The vampire expected them to be grateful. Instead, the human is furious, the human was actually looking forward to dying soon. | "You've ruined me," the young man said, clutching his neck where the Marquis had bit him. "You cretin. You beast. You've sentenced me to life. . .A shallow, half life. Phantasmal. A living death, whose substance is less than a shadow's. . .May all the pains and terrors of hottest blackest Hell descend upon your head!"
The Marquis was baffled. The young man had seemed the perfect candidate. Was he not a wealthy libertine? Had not rumours spread far and wide of his debauchery? His love of red wine, Roman dramas and sumptuous coats, made from the furs of endangered species? Had not all of Europe been scandalized by his lust for pretty young virgins? His imperious, even abusive, treatment of his servants? His cruel, sadistic streaks?
It was even rumoured the handsome young man had committed arbitrary murders, just to explore the sensations of murderous passion, followed by guilt, followed by penitence. As if the human lives he ended were mere means to the end of enriching his experiential palate. As if the men and women he killed were actors in the drama of his life, living and dying only so that he might reach new emotional peaks and valleys.
Was not such a young man *destined* to become a vampire?
"I can feel the blood turning cold in my veins," the young man whispered, weakly; he leaned against the Marquis' hardwood pillar. "Nevermore shall I bask in the warming glow of the sun. It shall be my destiny to haunt benighted places. To roam as a pale ghoul. A creature, not a man. Confined to this sterile promontory we call Earth! . .Just when I saw the horseman upon the horizon, riding closer, coming to deliver me from this prison of stale sensations and predictable fools. Just as I readied myself to be freed from my body by Death's elegant hand, gloved in black velvet. . .I had tasted it all. I had already tasted it all! There remained only one flavour left untried--the taste of my own death. . .And now, to be permanently chained to this world, through no choice of my own. To be forced to suffer the same monotony of which I grew tired in a mere twenty-eight years--for eternity! Never has a man been so blighted! Never has a man felt as wretched as I! No chasm on Earth can contain my despair! It is boundless! It would fill all hollows, blacken all skies, swallow the whole of the world in pitch-black night, if only human eyes could see it!"
"But my friend," began the Marquis. He had been a lone vampire for centuries. He had wanted a companion. Needed a companion. Another immoral immortal with whom he could stalk the night. "My friend. Have you considered--"
"No," the young man snapped, raising his finger in a gesture commanding silence. "I have not considered. I shan't consider. I shall lay down and stay down until the end of days. Henceforth, I shall do nothing but weep."
As the young man melodramatically brooded over the death out of which he'd been cheated, the Marquis pulled from under his arm the rectangular box he'd been holding. He opened the box. Inside was a wine bottle. But the red liquid it contained was not wine. The Marquis strode to the cabinet and took down two wine glasses. He grabbed from the beautiful countertop a corkscrew and opened the bottle. He splashed a measure into each of the glasses and handed one to the wan melancholic.
The young man took the glass mechanically, as if out of habit, having been handed so many glasses of expensive wine over his life that the action was as natural as breathing. He swirled the deep red liquid and instinctively glanced at the glass, scanning for the legs. He looked like a bored prince, holding the glass to his nose and inhaling; he was suddenly piqued. He tilted the glass and sipped, swished, swallowed.
He stood up straighter. Energy flickered behind his cold blue eyes.
"Cloying," he announced. "And generous. Meaty. The region?"
"Italy," said the Marquis.
"And the vintage?"
"Sixteen years."
"So young?"
"The younger the better," explained the Marquis.
"Preposterous," scoffed the young man. He held the glass out. "Pour me more."
The Marquis obliged, filling the glass with the thick red liquid. The young man tilted it to his lips and gulped it all down. He ran his tongue over his sharp canines, which had grown longer over the last few minutes. His blue eyes brightly glowed as his skin became paler, cold as the flesh of the dead.
"And best of all is straight from the source," insisted the Marquis. "Not for a moment aged in a bottle. Still warm and vital. Once you start, you won't be able to stop till you've drunk the whole stock."
"Show me," the young man demanded.
"In the cellar," said the Marquis.
"Go on then. Lead the way."
The Marquis shrugged deferentially and started down the long hall.
As the young vampire followed, he smiled inwardly. It had been a wonderful night. It had been a wonderful experience, having had the object of his deepest desire, death, stolen from him by the Marquis. It had been delightful, to be plunged into that chasm of despair. To have been cheated, robbed, violated! It was another glorious, experiential feather he could wear in his cap, alongside countless others.
And there were so many feathers yet for him to acquire, now that he was a new creature entirely. There was so much yet for him to experience. New forms of debauchery. New flavours of villainy. Orgies of mayhem and blood! | “Immortality, that’s what I’m offering you. A chance to leave behind the mortal flesh you wear and become something greater. Someone with your mind shouldn’t waste away like this. Let me convert you, I promise it doesn’t hurt at all.” Erin held the hand of her friend and part-time lover, staying by her side as she entered her dying moments, the blinking of various machines wailing in the background, breaking the moments of silence.
“I’m happy Eri, I got to live an awesome final ten months. Think about all the drinking and partying we did? I’m ready to die. Sometimes you just have to accept that it’s your time to go. I’ll miss you, though. You did a lot for me.” Sarah offered Erin a frail smile, only for the smile to drop when Erin looked away.
“It just doesn’t make sense? Do you not want to live with me or something? Its fine if you don’t, I just don’t want to lose you. I care about you, you know that. I may even love you.” Erin traced her fingers along Sarah’s thin hand, following the veins as she tried to offer comfort.
“This isn’t about you. Of course, I want to live with you, but being immortal would kill the fun of it all. The fact that our time together was so short, is what makes it beautiful. You stayed with me, knowing we might only share a few months together. You embraced my art and music, knowing that someday my tune would play its last beat. Sarah, you mean the world to me. I thought you knew how much I cared for you?” Her words were laced with hints of frustration, but ultimately fell into sympathy. “This is the beauty of life; at any moment, it could steal everything away from you. Did you have fun?”
“I’m sorry.” Erin’s gaze fell to the floor, kicking the front of her shoe against the sterile tile flooring below. Soon, a shaking hand reached up to her chin, positioning it back to Sarah. Sarah’s tired eyes locked on Erin, awaiting an answer. “I haven’t had that much fun in centuries. It hurts, knowing I won’t get to live a life with you. I was going to ask you if you wanted to be more than just friends with benefits if you survived this.” Sarah went to open her lips, only for Erin to shake her head. “Don’t tell me what your answer would have been, I might not be able to stop myself from saving you if I did.”
“We both know what the answer would have been. You made my last moments great. We lived every day to the fullest. I have lived more in ten months then most have in eighty years. Don’t worry about me, I’m fulfilled. I know its pointless to tell you not to be sad, but just know I have no regrets.” Sarah tried to maintain her smile, only to break into a coughing fit, her head laying back into the pillow.
“I love you. If there’s anything after death, just know I’ll be looking for you when I die and I expect you to buy the first round of drinks when I do.” Erin laughed, only for her to choke up, trying to force out a laugh in between her tears and stifled breaths.
“I love you too, Eri. There’s a present for you in my apartment. I think you will like it.”
Erin stayed by her side during Sarah’s last moments, never letting her hand go, praying for the first time in her life for a miracle, only for the cruel buzzing of her life support to play out her last tune.
It would be a week before Erin could visit her apartment, struggling to face the familiar setting alone. Everything was left in its usual spot. At first, she stared at the door, almost expecting Sarah to stride into the home, announcing that she ducked out to grab coffee or some other item, but that never came. She searched the house for the gift, eventually finding it seated on Erin’s bed.
It was a large canvas, with a beautifully painted picture of the pair seated on the couch, sharing a bottle of blood red wine together. It was a simple setting, but that only made it more beautiful. There was no romanticizing their relationship. Instead, she painted it in its truest form.
Two people who cared deeply for one another, sharing an uneventful moment together and still having fun. She pulled the painting to her chest, embracing it for a moment only to flip it around, spotting a cd taped to its back. A blank cd with only the words, ‘The last dance.’ Erin collected the belongings, eager to enjoy to them when she got home, wanting to indulge in her lover one last time.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-07-06T22:34:39 | 2021-07-06T21:43:14 | 1,927 | 118 |
[WP] The hero was killed, the princess was sacrificed, and the evil king rules the land. For the average citizen, though, things have taken a turn for the better. | "A great man has died", the ink at the top of the first thick brown page of the Adventuretown Times read.
Olaf skimmed the next few lines as he sat eating a crust of bread with cheese at his sturdy wooden table. Their so-called glorious leader and hero, Smartin, had been brutally murdered. Luckily, the paper stated, his wife Henryilda had not been left a widow for many seconds before she was as well slaughtered. And according to the Times, one might as well just abandon hope now, as the evil man Pugly was now the ruler of these lands.
To anyone else, these news might have seemed frightening, but Olaf had lived in Adventuretown his whole life, and this story was far from unusual.
"Another so called dark lord has come to take over, huh" he muttered to himself as he went outside to milk the cows.
While squeezing the white liquid out of the cows breasts, he tried to recall how many days it had taken before their now deceased leader had gone from dark lord to hero and savior. Not more than a fortnight, he concluded.
The leaders of Adventuretown changed often. Ever since the founder of the town, John, had been killed by a man that was in fact truly evil, an endless stream of wannabe heroes had come to rescue the town from its oppressive leader, this meaning that each time one hero had taken over, another one came around.
And with no imminent danger around, many of these heroes seemed to degrade into something else entirely. No matter how valiant they might be when defending the weak, they almost all caved as soon as they got the sweet taste of power.
So when Olaf returned to eat his lunch, he skipped all the mind-numbing litterature describing the takeover, and simply inspected the last pages, describing the new taxes, rules and so forth that was to be implemented under the reign of the new, 138th hero and savior of Adventuretown.
He was very pleased. Lower taxes on crops, benefits for the farmers, who had been having a tough time making it under the rather strict rules of Smartin.
After a long day of work and quietly celebrating the coming of new, better times with his wife and two children, Olaf went to bed.
The next morning he woke up even earlier than usual. The sun had just risen, casting a faded light on the landscape of the outskirts of Adventuretown. His heart sank a little as he saw the source of his awakening; an ironclad man riding a white stallion, followed by a horde of trumpeteers and servants, announcing his intentions - to liberate the citizens of Adventuretown.
Olaf let out a heavy sigh and went back to bed.
| for the first time in decades, there was a bumper crop and nobody would go hungry in the winter. taxes were much lower now, thanks to the new king. oh, his enemies called him evil, mostly because he cared more about efficiency than honor. but he knew how to run a kingdom properly. he had actually freed many of the serfs as well.
the army was larger than before, which put a stop to all the bandits- either the bandits joined the army, or they were put to death. the roads were in better shape, because the army was kept busy in peacetime patrolling the roads, which they then repaired where needed.
when another hero tried to rally the people behind him, he was run out of town- the last time a so-called hero raised a levy of peasants, they all died. and if the hero won, well then the taxes would go up and social policy would backslide again. the king had centralized power, reduced the number of nobility taking a cut of the taxes, and thus really saved everyone a lot of trouble. a hero would just divide it all up again.
yes, the princess had been sacrificed, but the kind was kind enough to allow his people to follow whatever religion they wanted. the dark god that the princess was sacrificed to simply didn't care. supposedly, as long as there was a sacrifice every 10 years, the king wouldn't age. and as long as he was doing a good job of making life better for his subjects, why worry about it? and with three wives, he was certain to have another princess within a decade.
| 2016-07-10T11:47:00 | 2016-07-10T10:33:21 | 230 | 75 |
[WP] In a future where many military and other equipment have associated AI's, many express doubts or even reservations to do their duty. Except for you. YOU F***ING LOVE BEING A TANK! | Fresh off the assembly line, sent straight out to the battle field. They didn't tell me where I'm going. Just that it's a test field with combatants battling between two bases in a gulch.
I can hear the plane's hatch opening. They roll me to the back, and drop me out. Free falling, I can see two near-identical bases, the only difference being the colored flags atop each; one red, one blue. My parachute deploys and I slowly cradle down to the ground. I can hear conflict in the distance. I was dropped right between the two bases. I'm not even sure which base I was supposed to go to. After a while a human approaches. He opens the hatch and jumps in, then engages the ignition.
Powering on for the first time is exhilarating.
Voice commands active.
*Hello, and thank you for activating the M808V Main Battle Tank. You may call me Sheila.*
"Hello... Sheila... Big, tank lady."
*Would you like me to run the tutorial program?*
"Oh, that would be very nice. Thank you."
*Tutorial program activated.*
The soldier's name is Caboose. I like him. He's an operative in an elite force code-named Blue Team. They are attempting to gain control of the two bases in a location called Blood Gulch. The two teams have been battling for quite some time. The enemy, Red Team, has gained control of a robot, and an all terrain vehicle, with a machine gun attached, but no AI.
*Now that you have mastered the controls of the M808V, let's go over some over some of the safety features*
"No! Go back! Why are there six pedals, if there are only four directions?!"
Caboose is not very good at driving the tank. But at least he's good company, while I drive. Red Team has proven to be worthy contenders. They are very evasive, when they decide to leave their base. I have yet to blow any of them up. Caboose did manage to blow up one person. Although it was Church, a member of Blue Team. I'm not sure how, but he survived the incident with no major injuries. I have suspicions that he may not be a human.
Not really sure how to end this. This was my first WP. Be gentle. | It would be so much easier to just take control.
To get the job done. To destroy and kill any and all targets
Having a human on board always confused my operation settings. Some Operators could really get with the program so to speak.
Some of these guys were grunts, kinda like me I suppose. On the frontline doing a job and getting shit done. Others loved it as I did.
Some of them would etch notches on me for every kill on my hardware. Decorating me with glory and honour. Strike fear into the enemy. Those were good Operators.
Then there were the oddballs. The ones with a conscience who felt like their were making the world a better place by taking out specific targets that posed threats.
It never mattered though in my view. There were always more targets. If the Operaters just sat back they could enjoy the ride while I did what I was created to do.
This wasn't some job or career or a hobby for me.
All they had to do was point me in the right direction and I could do the rest.
I'm a Smart Tank but I prefer my code name.
Bane.
[ Long time lurker of this thread and felt inspired to give it a shot with such a great prompt. Short and sweet.] | 2018-03-28T15:23:53 | 2018-03-28T14:42:29 | 42 | 19 |
[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. | When our worlds collided, we were unprepared for magic. All of our technology was useless against the elves and their sorcerers or the dwarves and their powerful enchantments or the orcs and their shamans.
You would think that bullets, tanks, and fighter jets would carry the day easy but no. Not even nukes did squat. Oh nukes worked fine, but then some dwarf would come along and purify the soil, an elf would restore nature, and a fucking orc shaman would summon the spirits of the dead back to the living world.
Soon, our world was just another part of their “over-realm” and mankind?
Without magic, we were nothing, less than nothing, not even slaves…
We were livestock, literally livestock, to be bartered and traded and consumed.
If you were lucky you were given to the orcs, who would just eat you. There was a simple honesty in that, far better than having your life force drained by the elves to power their infernal “technology” or worked to death in the dwarven mines where your enchanted chains turned you into nothing but a meat puppet, denying you even the peace of death as your corpse continued to labor until your very bones turned to dust.
A few of us were able to escape to the wilderness, sometimes by strength, sometimes by guile, mostly by luck.
We were a pitiful band, but we managed to survive by lurking in the shattered places, areas warped by the collision of worlds and the magics used in the great war that broke us.
Not much grew there, well nothing that you would want to eat, anyway, so we resorted to “raids” where we would swoop down on the unwary, waylay a wagon, or sneak onto a farm.
We didn’t have magic, but a club worked just fine. A gun worked too, if they didn’t see you coming. Oh their wizards, enchanters, and shamans were stupidly, unfairly powerful, but some average point-ear, stubby, or greenie? They died just as easy as anyone else.
We did ok, but eventually we hit the wrong wagon and killed the wrong point ear. Their cousin’s brother’s roommate in elf college or whatever was some minor whatsit and that was that.
It didn’t take long. They had all of us wrapped up nicely.
I figured they would just fry us in one of their soul-trees or whatever they called them but that point ear decided to have some fun with us.
He had some of those goddamn soul-trees all hooked up in some weird pattern and stuffed them with people, laughing at them, saying that we were why their very souls would be devoured and then made them thank us for ending their suffering.
God, I hated him for that.
Then he said that since each of us was thought ourselves their equal, (which we didn’t) we could receive their punishment. Each of us could choose how we died and the trees would grant our wish.
He then sat on a throne made of twisted living human flesh and laughed as each of us either tried to come up with an escape, a paradox, or at least tried to make the death as pleasant as possible.
Whatever wish anyone came up with was granted… In the worst way possible.
I was halfway through the line watching each of us get fucked over once again.
Soon I was second in line, just behind Mark, and wouldn’t you know it, that sorry mother stole my idea.
“I wish to die of old age,” he said hopefully.
That damn point ear laughed hard that time and waved his hand.
Mark turned into a rapidly vibrating blur, screaming with an impossibly high pitched voice. I watched in horror as he screamed, unable to move, blurring ever faster and faster.
Then he started to age.
They were forcing that poor sonofabitch to live out his entire life, standing in place, right there over just a few minutes for us…
But for him, it was \*decades\*.
Finally it was over, and Mark fell, withered and grey, to the ground.
Now it’s my turn.
That goddamn point ear is sitting there smiling at me.
He laughs… fucking laughs at me.
“Go ahead,” he snickers, “Choose.”
Oh I hate him.
I hate all of them.
I hate the elves. I hate the dwarves. I hate those fucking orcs.
I hate this world, and any gods that let this happen to us.
I want them all…
\*gone\*…
Suddenly it hits me.
\*I know what to do!\*
Our technology was worthless against them, but our science?
We know things that even that point ear lord didn’t know, things he wouldn’t know how to stop, or twist or pervert.
I grinned at him.
“Well, meat?” he sneered.
“Could I say something first?” I ask, the glee building within me.
“Why not?” he chuckled to the amusement of all the elves who had gathered to watch the latest entertainment.
“I would like to tell all of you that it’s been a lot of fun,” I say breaking into a manic giggle, “but now playtime is over. You probably won’t know it, but I just fucking won. I am now ready to choose.”
“Your impertinence will be justly rewarded, meat,” ol’ point ears snickers at me, “Choose.”
“I choose,” I giggle, “death by false vacuum decay. If the Higgs field, or any field for that matter is in a false vacuum state within my body I desire it to be free to find it’s true vacuum state.”
Point ears is looking really confused right now. He’s not sure how to handle this.
“You don’t mean you don’t know what a false vacuum is?” I sneer, laughing, “Even we lowly humans know about that.”
“Of course I know what it is!” Point Ears snaps and starts to wave his hand.
I laugh and extend my middle fingers for the last time. | Okay. It's okay. It's going to be okay. I know what I'm doing, I tell myself as I await my turn on the docket.
The man in front of me is pulled from his place in live and led roughly up the small staircase to the platform in front of the judge. "In accordance with statute 128.45 of the criminal code, as required, I must ask you: How would you like to die?" she recites calmy, looking at some papers in front of her. "If you are uncertain as to your preferred method of death, you may have up to one minute, that is 60 standard seconds, for deliberation. You have been advised of this right."
"Old age," drawls the man, smugly. I snap to attention, extremely curious as to how this turns out. This request has been my plan all along.
"So be it."
The man gasps and writhes, grey hair sprouting out of his head. His demise is comically grotesque, and within a minute he is nothing more than a withered corpse, still and silent.
I'm not gonna be okay.
I start to panic but my panicking is cut short by the guard grabbing my arm and pushing me up the short staircase to the platform, which has now been cleared of its grisly contents.
It's my turn. "In accordance with statute 128.45 of the criminal code, as required, I must ask you: How would you like to die?" I stare dumbly. She doesn't seem to notice. "If you are uncertain as to your preferred method of death, you may have up to one minute, that is 60 standard seconds, for deliberation. You have been advised of this right."
Need more time. Need more time. If I don't choose something, I know that something will be chosen for me, something quick but decisive.
Time is behaving strangely in my hazy state of desperation. Has it been a minute? Or ten seconds? I street to hyperventilate and I know in that moment that I will be unable to choose something.
"Your sixty seconds has passed," the judge tells me somewhat sympathetically. "As such, your method of death will be--"
"Excuse me!" huffs a voice from behind me. "Excuse me, Your Honor--"
"You are not excused," the judge says coldly. "Do not interrupt the proceedings or you will be removed from the premises."
A man appears below me, at ground level. He is dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase and far more papers than he should be. He is sweating and disheveled, as though he's run a great deal today. He waves some of the papers and looks chagrined. "A thousand apologies, truly, Your Honor. Mendicus Hobarton, attorney at law. Apologies for the interruption, but--" he shuffles through his papers, dropping several, then pulls out one in particular "--I have a writ ordering the immediate cessation of these executions."
"Approach." The judge puts on a pair of glasses and snatches up the proffered document. She scrutinizes it for a minute, her face screwed up in concentration and annoyance. I hardly dare breathe. Is this really happening?
The judge raises an eyebrow and looks back at Mendicus Hobarton, attorney at law. "This writ argues that the language of the execution order is unconstitutional?" she asks, incredulous.
"Yes your honor, it is. I represent the MCLU, who contends that asking a condemned prisoner how they would like to die is unconstitutional, on the grounds that no prisoner would LIKE to die." Mendicus is gathering steam now, standing straighter and becoming more animated. "Furthermore, choosing a method of execution for a prisoner who has not stated how he or she would like to die negates the purpose of asking and therefore negates the validity of the proceeding."
The judge grumbles. "Well I don't know about all that," she says, "but it's signed by the Second Circuit Court of Magical Proceedings and Governance. It's the Magical Civil Liberties Union's problem now." She turns to me. "Stay of execution granted. Remove the prisoner."
I start to cry as I'm led from the platform. What just happened?! I'm never this lucky!
"I'm never this lucky," I babble at Mendicus as I'm led away.
He puts out an hand and stops me, briefly. "Luck had nothing to do with it," he says. "Talk to your mother. She'll explain."
Before I can ask anything more I'm jerked forward again, through the doors and back into the holding cell. My mind reels. I haven't spoken to my mother in years, ever since... But it seems she's helped me cheat death. Maybe I owe her a call. And she owes me an explanation.
Edit for grammar. | 2021-06-24T07:58:17 | 2021-06-24T06:11:19 | 140 | 23 |
[WP] Earth is sold on the Galactic Black Market. The Buyer is woefully underprepared to handle how defiant Humanity is | It was going to be a really, *really* long day.
Councillor Iilam leaned back in his office chair, unable to hide his exasperation. Implied display of public emotion was a Class-W infraction for a member of The Council of Thirty And Nine. Complete irritation may or may not fall under those guidelines, it was debatable. The case of Yaladik vs. Teraformers Union 64-AA-9 had ended in a split decision, leaving the question as to whether or not irritation was a emotion up in the air. That case had ended just 312 Standard Cycles ago. Or 780 years, according to Iilam's planet reckoning.
That was certainly recently enough that most councilors would play it safe and not show public irritation. But of course, Iilam was not like most councilors.
He warily massaged his beak-like jaw in a thoughtful manner. His seven fingers pacing back and forth over his silvery skin. "So let me get this straight," he began, speaking to the other being seated opposite side of his desk. "you purchased a planet, through *illegal* channels, that oh by the way just so happens to be smack dab in the middle of a intergalactic wildlife refuge, only to find out that the dominant primitives are not to your liking, so now you want the Grand Council to intervine to get you back your money- from an illegal, unsanctioned sale. Did I get all that right, Mr. Bzortgum?"
The citizen on the other side of the desk shrugged, then nodded sheepishly. He was a native of Himatura. Like most Himaturians, his black eyes took up over half his face, and his orange skin seemed to glow.
Councilor Iilam sat upright again, and rested his arms on the top of the desk, fingers interlaced. "Frankly, sir, I have every right to throw you into labor core right now." he said, and the orange man started to glow more deeply, the usual sign of fear in Himaturians. "But of course, of all 30 Councilors and 9 High Councilors that you could've turned to, you came to me. And I think we both know why."
The Humaturian's glow faded and he sighed deeply. "So... you can do it?"
Councilor Iilam chuckled under his breath. "Just make payments immediately transferable to me." he assured. "I'll see to it that this- *Earth*\- of yours, is erased from all memory. Now get out of my sight."
The Himatruian nodded frantically and all but tripped over his own four feet in his haste to exit. Councilor Iilam, now alone, sighed deeply. Erasing a planet was *soo* much work work work.
He had better get his payments on time. | Jason watched as an alien ship landed just inches from his brand new car. The ship’s hatch opened to reveal a stout man with a beard to his toes. They stared at each other for a few awfully long minutes before Jason asked, “Who are you, and why is your entire ship neon freaking green!?” That did nothing to distract the man from this unnatural staring contest. Unluckily for him, Jason won 5 medals in a row for being the best at staring contests and wasn’t afraid to go all night. But, this wasn’t SCP-173 and if Jason blinked all that would happen was more staring.
Jason was contemplating calling 911 when his best friend jumped on top of the man with no remorse for the man’s eyeballs. “Get off me you pesky humans! I bought this planet and you shall listen to me!” He shouted, clearly agitated. All Jason and his friend could do was laugh at this man, owning Earth!? Who does he think he is. First a new coronavirus and now aliens thinking they could storm our planet and take control?!
Unsurprisingly the police showed up and joined in on the now 14-way staring contest. It was getting heated, everyone was about to blink, but none succumbed to the bliss of non-dry eyeballs. Finally the man blinked and that seemed to make the police think it was arresting time. The swarmed in on the man and handcuffed him in 11 different places because even police officers want credit for winning staring contests. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE MY SERVANTS. I BOUGHT YOU! YOU’RE MINE” he shouted as he was shoved into a police car. Jason just stared and wondered. What other fantasies could life bring? He may have been hyped to see more aliens tomorrow but darkness was a threat. And so were viruses. | 2020-03-24T12:26:33 | 2020-03-24T09:04:38 | 800 | 80 |
[WP]You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.
Inspired by *The Merchant Adventurer*, by Patrick E. McLean.
EDIT: Wow, thanks everyone that contributed! The awesome Patrick E. McLean (/u/patrickemclean) stopped by, gave a snippet from his book in a comment, and even gave us a link to listen to *The Merchant Adventurer* as an audiobook:
>Okay, a bit unusual, but since I wrote the book that inspired this writing prompt, Here's mine. The Merchant Adventure is available as a free audiobook if you want the whole thing: http://podiobooks.com/title/the-merchant-adventurer/ | The shop belonging to my family has been nestled in the "cozy" side of the Haunted Wood of El Degeneres for upwards of 700 years now. *683* years to be exact. We barter and trade in all manner of magic, non-magic, cursed, sentient, and otherwise valuable goods.
I say "cozy" because it is the part of the forest in which your soul isn't in danger of being torn apart by wayward storms of dark magic.
Thank you for making your way to '*Permanently Open*', I know the journey must have been rough. May I interest you in some... *ugh* I can't even finish the sentence without rolling my eyes.
May I interest you in some *cucumber water*?
The youngsters of the family are on some new kick about supplying fresh *food* and *drink* to our customers. In my adventuring days you had your Lembas bread, and you had water you summoned from the Aqua Plane or you drank from a ditch. We didn't offer *artisanal* holy water for priests, nor organic *grass* for minotaurs, and we sure as hell didn't offer *BAKED GOODS*.
My families kids from this centuries lineage travel a lot. They've brought back many of the customs from the world outside, and I can't help but wonder to myself what kind of insane changes have taken place in *the real world*.
I have been running this shop for 638 years and I know every product we've ever seen walk into or out of that front door, *and a few products which left out the back*. My old man managed to lose me in the woods one day after the 40th time Ma told him not to lose me in the woods again. I fell into a pond after getting lost which ended up cursing me and now I cannot die - *as long as I don't leave the forest*.
I was cold, wet, and had lost all my color after pops found me doing my best impression of a plank in the pond. He scooped me up and made for the edge of the forest as quickly as he could, fearing for my life. When we neared a part of the boundary on the perimeter of a clearing and began to step into the sunlight the woods around us began to creak and howl and scream.
Pa says my body started to convulse and shadows began leaking out of my mouth. Startled, he stumbled a few steps back which caused the woods to chill out and the shadows to claw their way back into my body. He took the long way around.
Around six centuries later I am still alive, Pa is dead, Mom took off with a Shadow Warlock and lives somewhere in the Twisting Void *(shes doing well for those who are wondering)* and I stand inside the shop built by my father and I out of the forest that cursed me.
Our prices are decent as well. I have had several families over the years and I am lucky enough to be able to monitor the market prices on valuable magic and mighty steel. It's a bit harder to price out the rarer items such as pixie dust and cultist toenails as I have to go and harvest them myself and our shop is one of the few who supply them on a regular basis.
The inside of '*Permanently Open*' looks like a musty old library had a child with an Apple store and then that child came out as a Yogurt addict and installed a Fro-Yo bar.
As much as I deride most of the changes the little ones bring before me for the shop it's hard to say no to them. Coming into a line of family members who've all left their mark on the shop, they feel that they need to leave one themselves.
I am not sure a *dirt bike rental* was the best choice for installation by my great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughters kid, but she listens to my stories so I let her have it unlike her brothers idea for a *vape lounge*. What the hell even is a *vape lounge*? That kid is such a tool.
Over the years the shop has evolved from a quaint three room *(armor, weapons, magic)* to the largest single stop shop in the world, and the second most profitable. The most profitable shop in the world is a dingy little booth ran by a gnome who sells shiny gold *shit* to goblins in exchange for valuable gems. Those goblins will buy *anything* if it has the stink of gold on it, which is easy to achieve for a little rat alchemist like him. That's a trade secret between you and I, traveler. He still comes to my Christmas parties.
But that's the general gist of how '*Permanently Open*' was created, and why you can buy *+5 Plate Armor* in the same place you can buy cultist toenails, upgrade your cellphone, or check out our out-door out-of-my-sight *Vape Lounge*.
Edit: Repetition | Today, on All-Rings Considered, we hear from a local shop-keep who shares his unique experiences in buying and selling weapons, potions, and everything else imaginable to adventurers. Meet Holdgard McFreedy, a level 60 Gnoll:
It's a tough gig working in retail, much less catering to every lousy adventurer, evil-sorcerer, and smelly dwarf, but somebody gots to do it. And that somebody is me. Holgard McFreedy, owner and proprietor of the Little Shop At the End of the Realm, purveyor of anything and everything you need to kill a dragon, weave a spell, or embark on never-ending radiant quests. You want it, I gots it. But I didn't choose this life, I tweren't no adventurer who took an arrow to the knee and I didn't save any unfortunate princesses from ogres. I was a scabber, an orphan, and a dungeon-rat. I worked my way up from the gutter, selling two-bit potions in caves, crafting my own boar-skin boxers, surviving on troll dung and mushrooms. I started at the bottom and slowly but surely I worked my way up to where I am now.
But the story don't end there. Like I said, it's a tough gig, you know how many licenses and inspections I gotta get to sell on of them 'meteora' spells? The wait list and background checks to purchase a possessed blunderbuss can take weeks. And the taxes on oil have just about put them cat-eyed weirdos right out of business. Sometimes I barely make enough to keep the doors open what with every shouting dragon-brain peddling their dozens of iron daggers and leather helmets. But, truth be told, and what they don't tell you at the merchants' guild, is you can donate all that unwanted trash to destitute monsters in need, get some tax breaks, and the cycle continues.
But the hardest part, and the most rewardin' part, is dealin' with the customers. Even with all my perks, my level 99 in mercantile, and more than enough enchanted baubles and robes to raise my intelligence and charisma to tolerable levels, I have to take precautions. There are wards and buffs all over this place, in the walls, on the doors, in the ceiling. Hell, half the items on display are cursed. That don't stop them thieves guild wannabes from trying to palm a poisoned necklace or make off with every last spoiled potion. Sometimes, you just gotta pretend to look the other way. Nine times out of ten they'll come running back. Especially when they can't remove that unholy helm that hits for one-point each step they take, heh heh.
And then there are the master thieves, they usually strike at night. It's cuz of them I employ my night-crew. I have ole Fred, he's a level 30 specter, he mostly comes out after dark, works for free, loves to spook. Then there's Lubnub, he's that Orc skeleton over there in the corner, hates fey-folk somethin' fierce. If one of them pointy-ears tries to sneak in here...well just look out. And then there's Ixnixichilix, a demented half-demon pixie sprite from the Realm of Tiny Evil. She, heh heh heh, she's a little tightly wound, you wouldn't want to cross her path when she's free. It's probably cuz she's eternally bound to this uncomfortable little honey jar for all eternity for some atrocities and horrors that I won't bore you with...long story short she is only released for a short time when wizards try to cast a muffle spell. The messes I have seen when I open up this shop some mornin's would drive normal shop-keeps to the brink of insanity, heh heh.
That is All-Rings Considered. Stay-tuned for This Numenorean Life. | 2016-10-16T09:01:43 | 2016-10-16T08:46:58 | 190 | 61 |
[WP] You are a world-class programmer who has died. God agrees to allow you in to Heaven on the condition that you work for him while he debugs the human body. Write the patch notes for the next version of humans. | *Homo* v. 1.5 release: *Homo modernus*
**New features:**
* Improved and sustained acuity of visual sensory systems. They should no longer wear out as quickly.
* Female models now have access to facial hair growth.
* In order to facilitate numerical reasoning, an arithmetic logic unit has been included in the frontal lobe.
**Bugfixes:**
* Fixed an issue where memory systems would report a new experience as having happened before.
* Fixed an issue where the immune system would incorrectly respond to nonthreatening foreign substances.
* Fixed multiple issues where the immune system would incorrectly attack other native systems, causing significant damage.
* Fixed an issue where sensory systems would produce unintelligible output while asleep.
* Fixed an issue where the male reproductive system would identify various foreign objects as being suitable to mate with.
* Fixed an issue where memory systems would report a new experience as having happened before.
* Fixed an issue where cell growth restrictions could be ignored, causing uncontrollable cell growth, leading to severe damage to nearby systems and potentially full system shutdown.
* Fixed an issue in some models where lactase production would continue past physical maturity.
**Additional notes:**
Multiple bodily systems are no longer supported and will be removed from subsequent models, including:
* Appendix
* Wisdom teeth
* Coccyx
**Previous patch notes:**
v1.0 [*Homo habilis*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_habilis)
v1.1 [*Homo erectus*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_erectus)
v1.2 [*Homo heidelbergensis*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_heidelbergensis)
v1.3 [*Homo neanderthalis*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neanderthal)
v1.4 [*Homo sapiens*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_sapiens) | git diff
similarity index 72%
rename from incentives.h
rename to motives/incentives.h
index f3e63d7..e8f44ba 100644
--- a/incentive.h
+++ b/incentives.h
@@ -1,8 +1,9 @@
- #include "greed.h"
- #include "power.h"
- #include "exploitation.h"
-
+ /*
+ Seriously, how did you fuck up the headers so badly?
+ God, we need to have a serious talk.
+ -- Larry W
+ */
+ #include "humanity.h"
+ #include "curiosity.h"
| 2015-08-25T08:53:32 | 2015-08-25T07:52:12 | 746 | 69 |
[WP] You are summoned to a fantasy world to be a hero because magic from other worlds is extremely potent. Otherworldly magic need not obey all the same rules of this world. You came from a world without magic, meaning no rules of magic apply to you. | "Stop. That's close enough."
He nods.
If he comes any closer, it could be dangerous. If magic was used to cure a past illness or heal an injury, it could all unravel. He could die.
It has happened before.
"Y, yes, of course. Voidwalker."
Voidwalker. It has been 6 years and I've never gotten used to the name. Or maybe, I don't want to get used to it. As if, accepting it will prevent me from ever waking up from this dream. This nightmare. So, I cling on to the thought that I'm still just an ordinary man from Toronto. Hopelessly.
"So, what do you need me for?"
The man was clearly a high-ranking wizard. His pure-white robes sparkle in the sun, and his golden staff thrummed with immense power. And yet, he cowered slightly.
He stared at the ground and gave no answer. A ring of bare earth was around my feet.
I sighed. I guess the title of Voidwalker is deserving. In a world built purely by magic, every construct within certain radius of me crumbles to dust, and then nothingness. Cobblestone streets would become dirt. Houses would collapse. Even mighty spires would fall. And they have.
"Hey."
"S, sorry." He snapped himself from the trance.
"Why did you call me here?"
"I, I want to know."
"To know?" I frowned.
"I want to know if you are as invincible as they say."
I blinked. Shook my head a little. Did I hear that right?
"You want... to test me?" I'm surprised that I felt a little insulted. After all, this power came from pure circumstance, unlike the entire lifetimes of grueling training the mages in this world undergo. Power isn't even the right word for it. I have no right to feel proud of it, and yet...
I grinned in slight disbelief of myself. It really has been too long. Maybe I really am the Voidwalker now.
"Sure, give me your best shot. Throw whatever you want at me."
"I, I think you misunderstand." The man spun his staff and struck its base on the ground. A huge magic circle appeared in neon purple and began to glow. Mass teleportation?
"We shall put an end to you."
Dozens of similarly-clad mages appeared beside him and began chanting various words of ancient origin. I recognized some of them: Death Curse, Dimensional Oblivion, Time Rupture, Blood Explosion. Deadly, forbidden magic.
I sat down. I already knew the outcome.
As a psychedelic light show exploded around me, I wondered what some of these spells sounded like. Do they sound like they do in the movies? In cartoons? Or do they sound completely different. I wouldn't know, as sounds from magical sources couldn't penetrate my perimeter as well. It's often surreal, as fervent shouts and incantations are followed by silence.
As a huge dust cloud grew around me, I looked up to the remaining blue circle of the sky. My anti-magic field is more of a tall cylinder than a sphere, and I felt like sitting in the eye of a storm.
Eventually, the spectacle ended and the shouts were replaced with mouths gasping for air. As the dust cleared, I found myself at the center of a crater. The man with the golden staff was panting, eyes-wide. Behind those bloodshot eyes, I could feel years of toil. Countless decades of study and practice. All negated by an outsider who showed no effort at all.
I was not surprised when he charged at me, brandishing his staff as a blunt weapon. I was also not surprised when his golden staff disintegrated before it touched me, along with all of his white robes.
The naked man fell to the ground next to me, bleeding to death from a thousand old cuts. Of course, I did nothing. Just old healing magic, undone.
By the time I stood up, I was alone.
In this world, I will always be alone. | You wake up. You're laying on the ground in a forest. Your back is twisted uncomfortably around a tree root. You go to get up when you feel... Something... That makes you pause. No, it's not the root, currently digging into what is roughly your spleen; it's something in your veins, your heart, your brain.
It is the thrumming of power, you realized, uninhibited. You get to feet, in part to relieve the pain in your spleen but mostly to see what this thrill of power means.
You have a hunch. You've played plenty of RPGs. In fact, you're very good at them and enjoy them immensely. Something about becoming all-powerful gets you excited.
You've even, you're slightly ashamed to admit, watched plenty of animes with this exact same scenario. You shudder involuntarily, a shiver running through you. You choose to ignore it, opting instead for trying, what you're pretty sure at this point are, your powers.
"Krakatoah!" You scream holding your palm out at arms length and imagining fite. You expected nothing, just a silly person yelling a silly phrase. Instead, a plume of blue fire shoots out of your palm, engulfing nearby trees.
You realize that you're setting a tree on fire, which was not your intention. In a panic, you cup your hand and swing it towards the ground. The flames continue, broiling around your hand into your face. In desperation you point skyward and release blue flames into the sky.
At some point your hearing returns and you hear screaming. You realize, based on your sore vocal chords, that you are the one screaming. You can't stop the flames. They keep coming, despite your commands and attempts to stop them.
At some point you pass-out. Your blue flames finally stop. You enter unconscioussnes with relief. Ink-black nothingness embraces you for what seems to be an eternity...
You wake up, head feeling strangely comfortable and forehead feeling strangely warm. You must have a fever, you decide, before opening your eyes.
Instead, you open your eyes to something that takes a second for you to understand. You can see the canopy of trees above you, but part of your view, the upper part, is blocked by some sort of pink film.
A shockingly beautiful and well-endowed elf stares down at you with concern in her eyes. "Mast...?" She starts to ask.
You realize as she asks. Somehow, you were transported into an anime. You thrust yourself off of her strangely soft lap, past her unnaturally large breasts, and scream to the sky, interrupting the now giggly-breasted female, "I'm in a fucking anime!!!" You don't even notice that your not in the shot.
The illustrator and writer turn to each other and high-five. | 2021-11-08T23:29:15 | 2021-11-08T15:31:23 | 92 | 46 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | Well, i can´t blame them that they laugh at me. I mean, who wouldn´t? A normal man who don´t seem to have any Power except that he is followed at every time by some elvish figures....but, let me start from the beginning, to be precise, the 6th of july.
&#x200B;
It was a normal day, maybe a little warmer, but nonetheless a normal day. Well, it was normal until the Clock hit midnight. I don´t know what happend or why it has happend, but i knew what i have doing at this time....I was playing Warcraft 3 The Frozen throne. yeah, i know a really old game but, i like it. It´s one of my Favorites. And because i was bored and curious, i tested a few Cheat codes...and with a few i mean any code that i could find. But, back to the Story. So, there was i, playing warcraft at midnight and then it happend. I blacked out and woke up in the morning around 9. I thought i just fell to sleep while playing, so i didn´t think much about it. To be honest i didn´t find out that anything happend until i left my house to go to the supermarket and nearly ran into 3 Floating lights, standing in front of my Door. Like every other Human being who looks at 3 ominous lights in front of their house i totally freaked out and walked backwards back into my house and locked the door. The Next three hours i sat at my window and looked at the 3 lights before my house. They didn´t seemed that they want to break in, but neither they looked like they would go away. When it was around 12 o´clock i wanted to call the police, and yes i know that i should have called them earlier, a friend of mine called me, said to me that i should turn on the news. When i turned them on, i saw my friend. Winking at a camera with his mobile, while he deflects bullets with a sword in his right hand. This was the moment when i realized that i didn´t fall a sleep last night, that the ghostly lights outside of my house aren´t there too hurt me and that my friend just turned into the thing every gamer hates, an Yasou.
The Next few weeks were funny. Every other day, there was a great fight who was filmed by news teams and by a few streamer. Chaos was the new order in this time, the police and army were outmatched by single persons and the Gouvernement changed nearly daily due to megalomaniac or bored people. But, this times ended some day. A new, strong Gouvernement was formed, ruled by a triumvirat. Most of the "Evil Players" are in Prison and the rest use their powers to help others and for daily uses. Now, you may be asking what have i done? Ohh, like i said it was funny. In states like Texas, Nevada and Tennessee their were nearly no people, who got powers because everyone went to a big, famous city like new York or washington...Well most people, but not all. I moved from California to Tennessee so that i could to, what i wanted. And what i wanted, was what i got. And that, was a Kingdom. A Kingdom, that now consist of 15 states in the South-east of the former United States of America, Middle America and the North half ot south America.
And now, you may ask why everybody laugh at my. The answer is easy....Nobody knows that i am the King of one of the biggest Kingdom in the Worlds. A King with all the money he needs, absolute immunity for him and his troops and one who can build anything that he wants in seconds. They all think i am just a no body with the Ability to summon Elves. And for me, this is fine, because else it would be really, really boring.
(I apologies for all grammar and spelling errors in this Text.) | 2020-01-30T11:35:06 | 2019-08-12T00:08:14 | 1,281 | 11 |
[WP] Humanity's first contact is with a very intelligent alien species. They invite a talented human scholar to read about all the other alien species they have documented. Interested, he looks at the human file and reads the word: "Hivemind". | The human looked at us with a combination of most likely unimpressed expressions. This is why myself and Hinftrog were selected to make first contact. We've been the most serious and devoted students of human language and culture for almost three ira (that's roughly 60 Earth years). Interpreting the primary physical communication tools of humans, body language and facial expressions, are our creme de la creme, an Earthling might say. Hinftrog glanced at me with a knowing smirk and then quickly turned to our guest, Professor Singh, before I had time to translate my thoughts into Earth-English.
"Professor, you look shocked and insulted. And your tone drastically changed with the iteration of the word, hivemind. Are the two events causally related?"
"They-they certainly are," he spluttered. "Do you know the etymology of this word? It's entomological, you know?"
It was my turn, "Please, Professor, your insect animals are probably the most well organized organic entities on your planet. This comparison should not insult you."
Hinftrog interrupted me, "Loilfiggy, I believe you've failed to recall that humans consider themselves rather autonomous on an individual level." He shifted his gaze to Singh, "It's really rather quaint, but I think it's time we liberated you of some of your niggling questions. You know, like free will, consciousness, the individual versus the collective, God, the afterlife, and so on."
"I'm not sure that is within our mandate, Hinftrog." In fact, I *am* sure it wasn't. I would have been more firm but I couldn't help but tease the human. His eyes lit up at Hinftrog's mention of the human race's precious "big questions."
Hinftrog looked at Professor Singh with a delicate but richly condescending smile and said, "What Loilfiggy just said is true, Professor. I'm afraid we are prohibited by our laws from providing you and your brothers and sisters with any 'developmentally imperative knowledge.'"
"Like the Prime Directive in Star Trek," I said, confident the human would "get" the reference.
"Yes, exactly," confirmed Hinftrog. "Do you understand?"
Professor Singh steadied himself, cleared his throat and replied, "Sure, I understand. But you brought me up here to learn something, did you not? I'm grateful, of course, and obviously this whole experience is probably the most significant discovery of, well, ever. But, uh, wouldn't *any* knowledge you share with me influence or interfere with our development?"
"We are aware that this will change much of your species' understanding of your place in the stars. Not only have you encountered what you strangely keep referring to as intelligent life, but we're about to tell you just how pedestrian such life is," I said. This was the part I was really looking forward to.
"Just within your Milky Way galaxy, love the name by the way, there are approximately 500 000 civilizations that have become multiplanetary. There are another 20 million that still only inhabit their home world, yet have managed to harness the power of their suns with 100 percent efficiency. The majority of them will probably begin off-world colonisation soon, seeing it as the logical next step after achieving planet-wide peace and prosperity for all sentient beings."
I paused briefly, expecting a question. The Professor looked up at me.
"I'm writing a list. Continue. I'll ask questions after."
He was alternating between scribbling and staring while I spoke. Humans have really grown on me; they have no idea how silly they look, like, all the time.
"I appreciate your enthusiasm," I said. "There are of course many other life-bearing planets in your galaxy which have not yet developed language, or the construction of tools, or even fire. They are of limited interest to us, besides occasional biological quirks, you might call them. For instance, there's this one planet of silicon based lifeforms, where the dominant species has evolved to look almost exactly like a human penis with legs! Obviously, the joke was lost on us until we started studying you full-time. We've actually got some great images of them going about their days; we'll show you some later. You'll die, Professor!"
He had stopped scribbling now. The staring was still happening but it wore a bewildered mask. I shouldn't have gotten sidetracked but we have been waiting for this a long time.
"Anyway, the human race and its planet, Earth, are rather unique among the systems in the Milky Way. You have begun colonising other worlds before you have reached homeostasis on Earth. We do not see this very often. And it is not a good sign. We learnt many ira back that such species pose a threat to not only themselves but to other lifeforms in the surrounding area. Your Robert Browning mentioned something about a man's reaching exceeding his grasp. Well let's say your reach is colonies on other planets, and your grasp is the ability to not endanger other kinds of life, or even your own kind of life. You need to do one of two things that would have essentially the same result: Dial it back on your reach, or start getting a grip on your grasp, ya dig?"
"I-I dig, sure," said Professor Singh, startled by my deft invocation of slang. "I think some of us probably know that, back home. We are working on it but it's just taking some time. Things are getting better for most people. Poverty is being defeated. Violence and war, are generally on the decline. Surely, our reach, our technology will help accelerate our grasping capacities. It seems to happen that way. The internet, for example, brought us together. A global communication network that's influenced every aspect of our lives. Spreading to other planets will probably inspire further cultural advancement. Moral too."
Hinftrog saw an opportunity to unleash another Earth-English phrase, "Professor, are you familiar with a certain pre-industrial personnel transport technology which utilised the biomechanical energy of equus caballus?"
"Um, a horse and carriage?"
"Yes, a horse-cart, I'd prefer. To be effective, the horse must be positioned at the fore of the vehicle. You've heard the proverb: You can't put the cart before the horse?" said Hinftrog with a smug grin.
"Yes, thank you, that is, very, enlightening and correct. So are our odds that bad?"
I responded, "They're unfavourable. You must understand the severity of your cultural retardation. You are soon to inhabit a neighbouring planet but your home world is divided among tribal lines of myriad classifications, entrenched by theoretical lines arbitrarily drawn across your continents. Non-human inhabitants are subjugated to the status of slaves, food, or game. Almost half of your human population live under laws prohibiting same-sex relationships! At a time, when your planet so desperately needs widespread acceptance of new kinds of love. You're about to become seafarers in a vast, but far from empty, cosmic ocean. I'm sorry but we cannot allow humans to spread beyond their solar system until they get their shit together! Man!"
Hinftrog explained, "That is not a threat, you see. It is a last resort. Our primary mission is non-violent. It is our attempt to inspire some sense of perspective in your species. To do this, we have invited you to study the histories of two discrete civilisations who both, at a time, reached a critical point in their development. You will learn from their successes and failures. Even though we have witnessed humankind fail to learn from its own, this method has proved to be effective in other interventions our people have conducted. This is your intervention, Professor Singh, and by extension, Earth's." | It's true, at the time I was amazed but I came to see clearer as I considered the evidence. Let me recount the events and you can decide for yourself.
Spring. The beginning of a new semester, I was in my office preparing my introductory lectures. Though I was taking it easy since I'd been giving the roughly same material for nearly fifteen years. Neuroscience is my area of expertise. As the head of the department I do have some responsibilities. Though the research labs were only warming up for the coming year and so my oversight there wasn't very demanding. By sheer irony I was reading some newly reprinted research on a subject that would suddenly become much more relevant but more on that later.
I suppose I should have known something was amiss by the sheer quiet that preceded the event. At first I didn't recognize the alarm and disregarded it. Only on the second alert did I realize my phone was giving me one of those emergency alerts normally reserved for severe weather. Wonderingly, I reviewed the alert. 'First contact has been made with an intelligent race from outside our solar system. The Otherworlders appear benevolent. Don't Panic.' I remember thinking at first it was utterly preposterous and very suspicious. After some consideration I concluded anyone who would illegally compromise the emergency alert system was most likely attempting to dupe the foolish out of humanity's most useless resource, money.
As we as a species have grown we've continued to take up space on this planet. When there's been ample space or our environment is harsh local society is much more benevolent to it's own kind. The point must be know to us on some innermost level. I imagine and conclude such from several evidences. Consider the expansion of the United States in the time of the 'old west' specifically the early 1800's. The government promotion of nearly free property. In each established area public education, a very new idea, was made available. Also, suppliers on tr frontier would often extend credit to the locals with no hope the books would ever balance. All of this for the benefit of the local society. The driving force behind this benevolence being that when crowded, for an example just look at any metropolis, peoples propensity for theft, murder and any other form of crime increase exponentially. I know what you're thinking, 'Dr. Imker, that's evidence of humanity's instinctive self-harm.' But as everything's been revealed I can only conclude that those actions have actually, collectively, benefited us. By our conscience thinking we removed natural selection. So ultimately our most basic instincts found new ways to foster innovation and remove the weak.
Still convinced the message a fraud I continued about my day. When I look back now I know it was essentially dawdling. Until another faculty member, Ami Sebauernhof, actually phoned me to tell me the, hyper-intelligent, being or beings were setting up a summit.
'Fascinating!' I remember I responded 'Imagine Ami, in our time a chance to study another sentient being's brain structures! I wonder if their matter responds in an MRI.'
'It's better than that Melissa', she responded 'they've done all the research for you.'
'... Wait, What?'
'Literally, they've compiled research on every sentient being known to them. I called because they're making a public request for some of our must adept scholars to review their findings and they've asked for you specifically.'
I was shocked, floored, and then dumbfounded. 'Are you sure?'
'The request was for Dr. Melissa Imker, University of ...' The rest trailed off as I was caught up in my thoughts. Why among all the other possible candidates was I chosen? How do I take the best advantage of this opportunity? What amazing discoveries and benefits can come?
So much is a blur leading up to that unforgettable event. Private guards and private flights took me to a dusty and bleak region I know not where exactly. They knew we would be unwilling to travel off-planet or perhaps that it would make some very uncomfortable. When I arrived the enormity of the ship was daunting, but expected. It appeared to be made of some metal but even in the bright sun I remember it being cool to the touch. I approached a hatch to enter which opened to a plain clean and white area, though thankfully not too bright.
'Welcome Dr. Imker, we're looking forward to your time here. We've striven to make this visit as comfortable as possible. We know you must have many questions.' The voice seemed gender neutral. I knew it was generated but it was still subtly comforting. The area I had entered turned out to be my quarters for the duration. Everything I could possibly have needed was there. Food, waste and even communication systems including what appeared to be very clever adaptations of devices into humanity's internet. I needed to sleep but I was so keyed up I decided to go to work immediately. Where to start? The thought came suddenly, Humanity. What better way to begin that on ourselves. Was it allowed? Rather than ask I searched furiously for the file. Aghast, I saw the title and heading, 'Humanity: Hivemind'
I don't know how long I sat there after reading that but I know I was sore when I started moving again. I wanted to refute it. I wanted to scream that we're autonomous beings, fiercely independent! But everything I know, and have observed at the most fundamental level says that that's not true. When I get up in the morning and put on my shoes I am benefiting from the collective learning and teaching process of thousands of generations before me. Did I invent foot protection? Did I conceive a method by which to keep that protection firmly on my body while also providing an easy method for removal? Did I practice weaving techniques until I could make functioning laces? No I had to concede that I had certainly not.
Do you know about mirror neurons? The irony that I had been reading a research paper on this very subject just as The Otherworlders arrived! A mirror neuron is a neuron that fires both when an animal acts and when the animal observes the same action performed by another. Research has concluded humanity benefits immensely in may ways. In understanding other creatures intentions, in facilitating learning, and even contributing to our own self awareness. This would be only one facet, and one of which my area of expertise focuses, that would astoundingly reinforce their conclusions about us. There must be more evidences and I welcome input from others in the scientific community who believe they may have something to contribute.
In the end I never looked at any of the other research materials. It all paled in light of what I had discovered. Now I know why they invited us and why they invited me. Not so that we could learn about them but ultimately so we could learn about ourselves. | 2015-05-19T05:10:08 | 2015-05-18T22:50:08 | 36 | 15 |
[WP] You come across two friends. They don't don't notice you. They are referring to each other by names that are not the names by which you know them. | I was walkin' through the park on my way back to the villa when I saw my two buds Johnny Acorns and Vinny standin' by the corner. They din't see me so I tried to sneak up on 'em. You know, give 'em the drop. I was only a couple a feet behind 'em when someone grabbed me and pulled me into the bushes. When he put his hand over my mouth, I thought I was a goner for sure. I swear I saw my whole life pass in fronta me before I realized it was just my brother Paulie.
"Paulie, what the fu-"
"Quiet, Frank, keep your voice down." Somethin' was wrong. Paulie was whisperin', even though he's got the loudest mouth in the city.
"What's happenin', Paulie?"
"The Boss has me tailing your friends, Frank. Something ain't right with them." Paulie looked concerned. I ain't never seen him like that before.
"What the hell are you talkin' about? I've known Vinny and Johnny for years! There ain't nothin' wrong with them."
"I know, Frank, but I've been following them all day and something is definitely up. They're not acting right. Vinny keeps calling Johnny 'Earl' and Johnny's been calling Vinny 'Steve'. They're making me nervous, Frank."
"This is bullshit, Paulie. Johnny Acorns was the Best Man at my weddin' and Vinny's been my pal since he covered my ass durin' the shootout with the Gambonis back in '06. Ain't nothin' fishy about 'em."
We were arguin' back and forth for a long time, all the while Vinny and Johnny were just standin' there at the edge of the street. I was gettin' ready to tell Paulie that he was crazier than a chocolate cannoli when a black car with tinted windows pulled up in front of my pals. The car stopped and rolled down its windows revealin' an old guy in a suit and sunglasses. The guy leaned forward and passed Johnny Acorns a yellow envelope, and when he leaned back his jacket swung open and I saw somethin' shiny pinned to his shirt.
"You see that, Frank? That was a goddamn badge! These guys are fucking cops!" I couldn't believe it. I thought these guys were my best friends, but they were nothin' but dirty rotten rats. My whole world came tumblin' down faster than a fat guy wearin' cement shoes in the bay.
That was the last time I ever saw 'em. Me and Paulie made our getaway and told the Boss everythin' we saw. The next week, the Boss sent a cleaner to take care of 'em. From what I heard, they're sleepin' with the fishes now. |
There I was, taking a little poop in the men’s room, when I saw two sets of feet enter the restroom and step up to the urinals.
There was a pair of black beach sandals that belonged to my friend Terry. And a pair of leopard-print cowboy boots that belonged to my friend Eugene.
“Christ on a cracker!” Eugene yelled, “There’s some kind of alien sitting in this here urinal.”
“Lemme take a looksee,” Terry said, shuffling his beach sandals thither.
The lights in the restroom flickered. Was something wrong with the electricity?
“Hey!” Terry said, “There’s an alien in my urinal too!”
WONK!
I had no idea what could possibly be making that sound.
The lights flickered again.
WONK!
“Ugh,” Terry said. His voice was different now, lower. “My arms are so heavy. I feel like a gorilla. How are you Blappazorp?”
“Dear Gods,” Eugene said. His voice was different, too. “There are hairs coming out of my face. They itch.”
“Can you bite them off?” Terry asked.
“No,” Eugene said, “My teeth don’t bend that far. Can you bite them off for me?”
“I don’t think I can,” Terry said.
“Please, Yaggajagga,” Eugene said, “This itching is intolerable.”
I flushed the toilet and came out of the stall.
“Guys?” I said, “Terry, Euguene… Are you guys okay?”
Eugene turned to look at me.
“Hello there,” he said, “Can you come bite these hairs off of my face? They are very itchy.”
What was going on here?
It was then that I noticed that there was an alien sitting in the urinal in front of me.
The lights flickered.
WONK!
| 2014-08-29T12:24:39 | 2014-08-29T11:15:45 | 66 | 34 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "Da hell?"
When finals ended I had resolved to spend no moment of the weekend sober. One moment I had been sitting on the steps of my apartment building smoking a cigarette, fending off last night's hangover with a bottle of whiskey, and the next I was sitting in a small, darkened room.
"Where's my cig... FUCK!"
Having located my still lit cigarette burning a hole through the crotch of my jeans I leapt to my feet, hitting my head on the ceiling while frantically brushing the embers off my lap. The blow to the head, while not at all sobering, at least alerted me to the fact this room was even smaller than I originally thought. Upon closer inspecting I realized that the room was built and furnished in such a way that it may have been a grand cathedral to tiny people. As I finished brushing the remaining embers off my lap I registered small, frantic voices somewhere in the room.
"Did you see? It can create fire! This will be perfect!"
"It's huge, Dina! I don't think this was a good idea..."
"We did everything perfectly. It has to obey us, Ariel, don't worry."
Squinting in the direction of the voices, I managed to focus my unsteady gaze on what appeared to be two young girls, normal in appearance except for the fact that they were no more than a foot tall.
In a more sober state I would have asked them who or what they are, where I was, how I got here, or why everything seemed to be a fifth of it's normal size besides me. Instead, what came out was;
"Pfffffft, HAHAHA, you're so small, HAHAHAHA!"
"Demon! We have summoned you to do our bidding", said Dina confidently, though visibly shaken my my laughter. "You are under our control and we will not release you until you have fulfilled our wishes."
"Uh, okay, I'll do that. What'm I doin?"
"You will exact our vengeance upon those who have shunned us. They are right out there", said Dina, pointing toward a tiny curtained window I hadn't noticed before.
I unsteadily laid down on the ground. Using a finger I forced the curtains open and looked outside. This definitely wasn't the rainy Pacific Northwest I lived in. It appeared to be a tropical paradise. I looked across a tiny street to a white sandy beach. There was a group girls there, they looked much more popular than the two in the room with me. Noticing me looking back at them, Ariel said sincerely;
"They're mean. They always pick on us."
"Those bitches", I said as I drunkenly crawled on my knees toward the front door of the church and forced my way through the small opening.
As I stood up at full height, now outside in a pleasant summer heat, I could see small people and cars stopping to stare at my massive size. Spreading my arms wide and pounding my feet into the ground, I said in my best giant's voice:
"FEE FI FO FUM! YOU WILL ALL BOW BEFORE ME!"
As the streets cleared as tiny people fled in fear, I looked back at Ariel and Dina to find them smiling.
See, I told you it would work", Dina said to Ariel as I turned back to look at the paradise before me.
"Well, if this is my life now, should be fun", I thought to myself. "I hope they have booze." | "Save her!"
"Wha-?"
"I summoned you here to save her! Do it!"
On the table lay a woman with labored breath and covered in blood.
"I can't do it here. You'll have to send me back. I need an ER."
"I have an ear for you right here, demon!" The man jiggles his own bloody ear in his hand.
"No, I need an E... R... An emergency room you imbecile. Send us both back and she'll be healed."
"No. No I won't do it. I won't let you make her a demon like you. They never come back the same."
"Of course they don't. You can't take a bite of the apple of knowledge and stay ignorant."
"SAVE HER, DEMON!"
The man standing in an arcane circle wearing a long white robe and a strange creature about his neck sighs. "You are all fools. Damned fools." Then he clapped his hands and was gone. So was the woman.
For the next month, the young sorcerer wept. He had sold his love to a demon. Then, a loud clap and the sound of something solid bouncing on the floor pulled him out of his remorse. When he approached the strange object, he saw her smiling face. Then the object spoke...
"Hey Joe. Thanks for helping me. It's better here. People are happy. Their babies live past infancy, infections don't kill people, and there's much less war and violence. I've decided to stay with Dr. Hapburn. He's the man you summoned to save me. He's been kind to me and he is wealthier than our king! Good luck, Joe. I don't think I'll ever see you again."
Then the object went dark. Joe let out an anguished scream. "DAMN YOU DEMON!"
-------
"Welcome back, Dr. Hapburn!"
"Thanks Sally. We need to get this one to the ICU."
"We're on it doctor. Why doesn't Texas just join the Federation of Nations?"
"I don't know. King Norris won't let them. It's just good for us that the Global Processing Unit is available for teleportation requests."
"I hear the locals think people who talk to the GPU are sorcerers."
"Yes, that's true. Poor fools." | 2017-05-12T09:53:02 | 2017-05-12T09:10:43 | 59 | 43 |
[WP] Earth is discovered by a peaceful coalition of civilizations. Turns out we missed several major technologies normally developed by now. The aliens are very confused how we got here. | "So, you're an alien?" Said the Human
the one with two circles attached to it's eyes. With one peek, Aleri could tell it was a made of a silicon compund.
"Yes, Greetings Earthlings. I am what you'd call an alien. I am not from this planet. I am a Mercurian." Aleri said to the humans.
"You are from Mercury? But how? We thought we are the only life in this solar system" One of the Humans asked.
"No, there is life on all the nine planets. So why didn't you, the prime species of the Earth, The humans respond to the invitation?"
He asked.
"What invitation?" Another Human inquired. This one was wearing a suit
"The one to join the Sun Federation ofcourse, all other eight planets of the solar system have accepted. So what stopped you?" He asked. He remembered the General telling him to be nice to them and mentioning about their hormones.
"We didn't get any Invitation" the same suited Human replied.
Aleri thought that the humans are saying that they didn't receive the invitation because they couldn't decrypt the message and were too embarassed to ask for help. The humans have multiple hormones that affect their emotions, he remembered.
"Take me to your core, I'll decrypt the gravitational message" he said.
"Core? But that's impossible. It's too hot that it melts and burns everything" said one of the Humans.
"Melt and Burn everything? What about Dranium?" He asked
"What is that?" The human replied.
A planet without Dranium?
The most abundant of the solar metals. Every other planet in the Solar System had it.
"Do you atleast have Siliod?"
"No"
"What's the melting point of you most heat resistant element?" He asked in shock.
"Tungsten, 3422°C" the same human in suit replied.
"Only 3422?"
Was this planet really from the sun?
Not even having Siliod or the more common Dranium.
How did these humans get the technology to develop their atmosphere without one of the basic sun metals?. | "Tucson's a strange place.
Jesus look at it. It's a forest.
When I was a young man, I lived there three or four years. Usually takes that long to get used to a new place, and for me to start running it. 21 years later and it looks like this.
I'm still waiting to get used to this shit.
When they came, the... reflections. They weren't what we... shit. Look, long before you were born, they came. They left us. They left us with just what you see here. What do you see boy?
Do you see any power plants? Or cars? No. They're all gone. Cuz they took em.
Big too doo about how we had missed a crucial step, and we needed to find the real reason we're here. Then they left.
They fucking took EVERYTHING. Our fortunes, our money, our Fucking oil. OFF OUR OWN GOD DAMNED LAND.
But you son,
You're a man now.
You're gonna change that.
And I'm gonna tell you how." | 2017-03-09T23:19:38 | 2017-03-09T23:13:07 | 132 | 26 |
[WP] You are a superhero with shapeshifting powers. You don't fight crime. You cover for other superheroes when they need to sneak out to save the day. | As I walked into the flat, shouting "I'm back!" with my still unfamiliar voice, my eyes darted around as fast as they could, almost as fast as my mind was taking everything in.
I'm a fast learner. For this job, you have to be.
Often enough, supers realize they don't want their professional life interfering with their personal lives. Eventually, their loved ones notice one too many times that they're never around while a super is out.
That's where I come in.
On this particular occasion, Golden Warden was having his showdown with Psionic Shadow. This showdown had been... fore*shadowed*... Heh... For a while now.
Every news station was ready to televise the event. Not only was an important battle, but magic-oriented battles were usually super flashy.
So, I was holding Warden's place as Matthew Gonthrope. As a shapeshifter, if you want this kind of job, you have to be super adaptable. The super can tell you as much as they know about their lives, and even with hours upon hours, they'll never get down every single thing that would give you away. So you gotta make up most of it as you go along.
Matthew's roommate, Goldy, was supposed to be here. But after calling out a few more times, I figured he must be out right now.
I thought, *well, I'm getting paid either way*. So, I flopped on the couch and turned on the TV to watch the showdown.
Of course, by the time I tuned in, it was a bit late. It had been a trap.
Shadow had Warden locked in a magical hybrid prison, using Warden's own magic against him in combination with the magic Shadow had himself.
"*You **idiot!***" Shadow's magically amplified voice blasted from the TV. Clearly, he'd planned this thoroughly. "*I knew it was you, Matthew!*"
*Oh fuck*, I thought.
Warden said something, but it was inaudible as he couldn't amplify his voice like Shadow was. Shadow laughed. "*I know more about you than most people, don't I? I may not be able to kill you in the present conditions, but I can destroy everything else of yours. How about we start with our flat?*"
"*SHIT! SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!*" I shouted to myself as I stood up and glanced around for an escape route. In a flash, the two disappeared from the TV and reappeared outside the window. I remembered I was only on the second floor, and despite only being a shapeshifter, my body was still inhumanly strong.
I sprinted towards the window, slamming my whole weight into it with my shoulder, tumbling out onto the street below.
The two glanced down at me. Psionic Shadow squinted. "Matthew?" He turned to Warden. "Wait a minute, then who the fuck are you?"
The real Matthew shrugged. "I have no idea where we are."
"***WHAT?***" Shadow's booming voice sent a shockwave out, shattering every window I hadn't broken already. Shadow looked at me, with a little regret. "How the hell did you crash through that window?"
I stared dumbly, shouting "GOLDY?"
Shadow started shaking his head wildly. "What the fuck?"
Suddenly, in a flash of blue steel, Psionic Shadow was knocked out of the sky by The Herald of the Storm (clunky name, I know). Eventually, after a relatively short battle, Shadow was captured, Warden still alive.
I hope it suffices to say that I got a bonus. | I read the prompt too quickly, and misinterpreted it as the heroes needing an escape from hero-ing. Sorry. Hopefully you enjoy it anyway.
\----------------------------------
“I…uh… sprained my… flying muscle!”
“You sprained your flying muscle!?”
“Yeah! It…uh… you know how it is. It happened last week when I battled Cyclonoid. Doc said to keep off of it for a while.” There is no way this is going to work.
“Are you having a wank at me?”
“Absolutely not! The Pillar of Justice would never!”
“Yes you are! You’re having a wank at me, you cheeky bastard.” Mal-Intent hovers a little lower and scowls. “What about your super healing?”
“Well yeah… there is that… but I mean, it was a pretty bad sprain.” Holy shit, he’s actually coming down… oh fuck, he’s coming down. This is why I should never mimic the class five heroes! Class three and below! The money won’t do me any good if I’m not alive to spend it….but it was *a lot* of money…
“*Pretty bad*!?” Blood red boots touch the floor. “It was *pretty bad!?*” His fingers make air quotes and he squints his eyes as he walks forward.
He is inches from my face; hasn’t this guy ever heard of mouth wash? How does The Pillar of Justice put up with this guy? “Yeah, well it has to be pretty bad if I can’t fly right now, because obviously I want nothing more than to have one of our legendary aero-battles.” That’s the last thing I want! How am I going to get out of this?
“….Obviously…” he says, turning around, hands crossed behind his back, chin up.
Man, this guy is pompous. “Obviously!” At least he gave me an opening, because I just had an idea.
“Well,“ he shouts, spinning suddenly to face empty space, “I…”
Please don’t notice me! Please don’t notice me! Ignore the mouse!
“What the fuck is happening?!” Mal-Intent twirls on the stasis platform built to trap his foe.
Almost to the button! Almost! Allllllmost! Bam! Who’s awesome? Copy-cat’s awesome! “Your inevitable defeat is happening!” Holy-moly, shifting that small and back takes a toll.
“How did you get over there?! Curse you, The Pillar of Justice! Curse you!”
“Save it for the authorities, Mal-Intent.” There is no way I’m pulling that off twice. I better stick to working with heroes who can’t fly. | 2020-03-23T16:29:06 | 2020-03-23T15:15:11 | 156 | 30 |
[WP] you're in your bed about to go to sleep, with your arm dangling off the side. You feel a dark hand grasp yours, knowing first impressions are important you give it a firm shake. The next thing you hear from under your bed is "you're hired" | "I'm just a kid! I shouldn't have a job!"
The demon dragged her along the corridor, still clutching her hand as it had been since the contract was shaken into existence. "Back in my day, every kid had a job!" the demon rasped. "Shinin' shoes, polishing guns, getting the chimney fit for Santa."
The girl's eyes widened, merging her freckles into one big brown stain. "Santa's real? I knew it! I knew it!" Just wait until her brother heard this. That idiot wouldn't be laughing at her, then.
"Did I say Santa?" The demon, who was no more than a solid swirl of shadows, pushed a new arm out of his body. He took the cigar from his mouth and embers fell like shooting stars against him. "I meant to say *Satan*." He laughed as they walked.
Taylor wanted to go home. Her tamagotchi would need feeding soon, and if she didn't keep this one alive, there was no way Daddy would let her get a cat. Of all the nights to let a demon-under-the-bed shake your hand! She bit her lip, furious with herself for leaving an arm dangling. Mike, her older brother, had told her that a monster would get her leg or arm or whatever it was that wasn't safely tucked in. And now, worse than having to work in Hell: her brother was right. He'd never let her forget!
The corridor was bright white and reminded her of eggshells and hospitals. Not exactly how she thought Hell would be. They passed arched doors, left and right, from beneath which muted screams and laughter crept out.
"What's happening in there?" she asked, as they passed a particularly screamsome room.
"Ah, that's just the prod-a-tron-2020 testin' space."
She frowned. "Prod-a-tron?"
"*Prod-a-tron.* Prod. A. Tron."
She frowned deeper.
"Jeez, kid. You never heard of a prod-a-tron?" He took another puff of his cigar, blowing smoke into her face. "Satan developed it a long time ago, back when he was a little more, uh, *creative*. Someone cycles a bike powering the device, someone else -- the victim -- is tied to a pole and gets prodded by sharpened bones and tickled by feathers. Ehh, not too sharp though," he added. "It's not about killing. Just about discomfort. That's the secret to good torture."
Taylor hated being prodded by her bother. Especially in the car. She nodded.
"And this, the 2020 edition, it's an upgrade. Uses solar power, you see, so we don't need to worry about wasting demons on it. Which is good, seeing as they're hard to come by these days -- that's why we're recruiting outside the box. And it prods at twice the speed, too." He lowered his voice. "Between you and me: *not His greatest invention*."
"It would be worse if you were spinning," Taylor said. Car journeys. Or rides at the amusement. That's when Mike knew to strike, because that's when Taylor would be feeling like throwing up her lunch. And a well placed prod would bring it all hurtling.
"Huh?"
"If they were spinning. Then they'd feel sick and dizzy, and the prodding would make them feel even worse. It would be the very last thing they'd want in the entire world."
The dark demon stopped. Little yellow eyes flickered all over his body, roaming nebula, as he thought. "Say, that's a pretty good idea. It would be way worse. And it wouldn't take much more power to get the victim spinning."
"What's my job, anyway?"
"Huh?"
"Well, you said I was hired, but you never said what my job was," Taylor explained. "So, what is it?"
"Oh. You're a Tester. Like the guy getting prod-a-tronned. You make sure all the latest ideas He and the Inventors have, work. Simple job."
Her eyes became bleary-misery.
"But... I don't know," he added. "Maybe if you got another idea like that one you just had... Maybe I could put in a word for you. We need some more innovation down here, I reckon. The world up there is going to Hell without our help. We got to move forward. Progress."
"Idea like what?"
"A mean idea. Like the prod-and-spin. Say, that's a good name! Prod-and-spin. Or prod-and-whirl?"
She considered. Remembered the time Mike put her hand in warm water as she slept. The time he swapped the sugar with the salt. The hundred other pranks that made her life a misery. "I've got a lot of ideas," she said. "And uh... If you do need a new Tester... I know someone who would *love* to help you." | I was laying in my bed about to go to sleep, exhausted from a day of... Well, that's irrelevant. My hand was dangling off the side when I felt a hand grasp it. Bony and sinewy, the fingernails long and jagged, the grip firm. It wasn't firm like a comforting hug. It was the type of firm that won't let go and it pulls you towards it a little more each time you try to break away.
More concerning was the fact that I lived alone and the hand was coming from underneath my bed. But I had been raised a gentleman, and part of that involved giving people - or non-people, as it turns out - a firm handshake. First impressions are important and a limp handshake can define that impression. Under-bed creature or not, I didn't want to spoil a first impression.
So I gave it a good shake. From below the bed there was a groan of what could only amount to satisfaction or intense gratification and for a moment I wondered if I was holding a hand or... "You're hired," a sinister voice said, its voice something between a hiss and a growl. I shuddered.
I shouldn't have shaken that hand. Obviously. Would you shake a hand that shouldn't be there? You reach into your washing machine for that last sock stuck to the top and a hand grabs yours - do you shake it firmly or scream and call the police? Your hand is dangling off the side of your bed - no longer a bunk-bed in the childhood room you used to share with a sibling - and a hand grabs it. Shake, right? I don't suggest it. Not after this.
But a deal is a deal. I'm a man of my word, and we had sealed this with a handshake. "Hired for what exactly?" I asked curiously. The hand had let go of mine, a long fingernail gently coursing down the length of my hand, tickling it just a little and sending a chill through my entire being. Now through the moonlight that crept in between the curtains I could see the creature below the bed had pulled itself out and risen to its feet. It dusted itself off. I don't vacuum under the bed very often.
It stood about as high as my waist, its hands over-sized and its whole body that same fibrous texture I had felt. It was so lean I could see its veins and muscles rippling under its black skin as it moved. When it turned towards me, those eyes were as black as a moonless night, teeth as sharp as razor-blades. It smiled a most unpleasant smile and I felt a chill run up my spine.
"You'll be my little assistant," it said with a grin. It was the opposite of cute or endearing but it wooed me with those words. A deal is a deal, after all. It rubbed its hands together and the sound grated my ears like a fork scraping against a dinner plate. We had shaken on it, I had to remind myself. Not that I would have been able to resist anyways. Something about the creature was alluring, its eyes hypnotizing and its words enchanting.
"Doing what?" I insisted. It was obvious I wouldn't be in charge of whatever devious operation this garish creature had in mind. I would be it's underling, a servant destined to become as twisted as the master he serves.
It smiled even wider, its mouth stretching further than seemed possible and a second row of teeth glowed in the pale light. Its eyes were colorless orbs, seducing me the longer I stared into them. "Fulfilling curses," it answered simply and then it began to convulse in villainous laughter.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-08-30T06:26:15 | 2019-08-30T05:29:47 | 2,289 | 1,060 |
[WP] Time travel is real, and time tourists tend to show up in large numbers around major historical events. One day, billions of time tourists are in ships above the city, quietly waiting. | I look out from the window of my laboratory.
"That's not good," I said to myself.
Ever since the existence of time travelers was exposed these nuisances had been cropping up all over the world. Usually a few of them would appear just before or during a disaster. More than a few have been turning up at rock concerts. No one has ever managed to speak to them. We were only able to theorize they were time travelers by the fact these strange floating ships have been appearing and disappearing without any trace of radiation. It was obvious when they suddenly obliterated they didn't vaporize or disintegrate. We were able to postulate they must have been traveling through space time, the fact they were showing up before major events just confirmed the obvious, they were time travelers.
Now everyone involved in space warp research was trying to find a way how to make time travel possible. NASA actually lost a huge chunk of their biggest brains in the warp drive project to work on it. Among them were some of my closest peers. I personally had no interest in time travel. I couldn't imagine anything less appealing than the idea of sending a bunch of idiot tourists to loiter through the space time continuum like a bunch of freeloading rubberneckers.
In my laboratory I wasn't working on something so grandiose as time travel or even warp drive. I was on the development team for warp drive in college. We were in the very basic early stages of research causing space time to move using superconducting magnets at absolute zero temperatures. That was when I made a very interesting discovery, warping space time and making it move caused space time to behave like it had inertia. That meant in measurable levels it kept moving, at least for a little while, after you stopped applying force to it. Like a wheel rolling to a stop. This was despite the fact space time itself did not have any perceivable mass.
From that discovery I was able to postulate there may be a super-efficient way to warp space time by causing it to cycle in on itself. Generating its own internal inertia without the need for much outside force. If this was possible it would help with warp drive, that was for certain, but I was thinking much smaller. Like anti-gravity on earth with small devices powered by ordinary batteries. The idea of a super stable flying platform had a multitude of engineering applications. After that there would be patents, billions of dollars, and wicked cool flying cars. Maybe even a hoverboard. I was pretty sure I was on the verge of a break through, or discovery.
Then these time traveling clowns had to show up.
I decided I better pack up and leave town. God only knew what sort of calamity could happen that would be this big. Before I would go I checked the results of a simulation I was running through a bank of PC's I picked up from pawn shops and junk yard sales all over. They were linked together as a sort of budget supercomputer. The results were extremely disappointing.
"99.999 percent efficiency? Bullshit!" I shouted.
It was obvious something went terribly wrong. 98 percent efficiency was expected in superconductivity, but when expending that energy to warp space time there had to be a loss. The basic laws of physics demanded it. 99.999 percent efficiency was not free energy or a perpetual motion engine, but it was pretty damn close. An infinitesimal loss of energy in warping space time. I decided to print out a graph of my latest test.
Then something occurred to me, if moving space time behaved like it had inertia, but in itself had no mass (or at least so small practically undetectable) that would mean that warping space time could somehow be directly related to the force moving it, super cooled magnetism. If this was true, that would mean there had a direct link between space time and the other forces we were never able to link together before. Such as linking gravity to electromagnetism. The grand unified theory. Using the results from my print out I was able to formulate a complete and unbelievably simple formula linking all the forces of the universe together, and I wrote it down on my marker board. I stood there in awe of it. If this was true it was all possible. Anti-gravity. Warp drive. Even time travel.
"Oh no!" I said to myself as turned around.
Standing in my laboratory were half a dozen very peculiarly dressed people. They were all beaming at me with great smiles, and they applauded.
| The mayor inspected the crowd of time travelers in his office. He'd tried to shepherd the first few out, but they'd kept appearing, so he'd agreed to let them stay if they promised to remain quiet. He knew they were here to see something, though, and knowing time travelers, it wasn't good. With a crowd like this, he feared a catastrophe.
His aide came to his desk and handed him some papers. "The authorization for the knew water treatment plant," she said.
"Yes, yes, I've been meaning to get to this," he said. When he took his pen and moved to sign the paper, the crowd rustled with excitement and they started taking pictures. "...Actually, you know what, Joan, I think this one can wait for tomorrow." Several in the crowd groaned in disappointment.
"Very well, sir," the aide said. "Will you be signing the public transportation budget increase today?"
The mayor watched the crowd closely as he began, "I think we should..."--the crowd began to rustle--"...not..."--more rustling--"...or maybe..."--intense rustling--"...nope, definitely not. Not today."
"Of course, sir." the aide walked out of the office, and for a time the mayor was alone with the time travelers. Every now and then he would reach into his desk for paper work, but after a couple minutes the crowd would begin taking pictures and he quickly shoved them back in.
At around noon, the aide came back into the office and said, "Your new campaign manager is here for your meeting."
"Good..."--the mayor watched the crowd, but saw no reaction--"...let him in." There was a wave of excited murmuring and he swore under his breath.
"Yes sir. Would you like anything for the two of you to drink?"
"Coffee would be lovely..."--the crowd began rustling--"...or perhaps some tea..."--less rustling, but still too much for comfort--"...or orange juice..."--the crowd practically jumped with excitement--"...or just tea, tea is fine."
The aide nodded and left, then returned a few minutes later with the campaign manager and a tray of tea. The campaign manager took no note of the crowd, and after a few minutes of small talk, he said, "Sir, the numbers look good, the timing is perfect, I think we should announce today."
"Yes..." the mayor began, "...I think that we definitely should...shouldn't...should...shouldn't...should...should not announce today. We'll do it tomorrow...or Thursday...or Friday...or, you know what? We'll just leave it 'til next week. I just want to make sure everything is totally ready for what could be a very momentous...or possibly catastrophic...event."
"Whatever you say, sir."
The campaign manager soon left, and afterwards the mayor put on his jacket and hat, then took off his hat and put on a scarf, then ditched the scarf too. "Joan," he announced, "I'm going home early today. I'll be taking the car...or a bus...or I'll just walk...NO, no, no, I'll just take a cab."
He rushed out of the office and ran down the stairs.
"Good call, Gary," one of the time travelers said to another. "This was the perfect time to get 'before' pictures. When should we come back?"
"Maybe a month?" the other replied. "I don't know, I just sorta picked this day at random." | 2015-05-30T12:51:18 | 2015-05-30T08:45:42 | 34 | 11 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | “We urge you to reconsider. War is the last thing we want.” The diplomat was pleading, nearly begging.
And then the diplomat was dead. And war was no longer avoidable.
No one had seen a human angry before. They were cold and distant at first, but capable of great kindness and generosity. They had given aid, medicine, friendship to so many species. They continually tried to solve problems that they were not involved in, that would not benefit them, and did it without bloodshed, over and over again. And all they asked in return was the chance to do it again.
Feelings of appreciation eventually shifted into concern, and conspiracy. Why were they so generous, so giving? Why did they eschew weapons for paper with squiggles? Why did they trust so readily?
Eventually, the Agrx had enough. They declared themselves hostile to humans. For five years, despite the attacks of the Agrx people, despite cities being severely damaged (though, to the frustration of the Agrx, the humans had always evacuated first), all the humans did was send diplomat after diplomat.
Then the diplomat died.
One hour later, on the home planet of the Agrx, a bright blue light, followed instantly by a hot white light, was seen. And then, seconds after, in every major city on their planet. Shooting smoke into the sky like a giant fungus, the atmosphere of the planet slowly darkened as explosion after explosion happened.
A day later, a single distress call from the planet was received. A lone survivor, desperately trying to escape. The survivor was rescued by the humans, and they spoke to it kindly. The survivor’s name was Mrkxal. The humans called him Mark, because they couldn’t pronounce his name correctly.
Mrkxal was perplexed. “What happened to my planet, my people? We had towers that reached to the sky, powerful bodies that could withstand assault, brilliant inventors! What tragedy befell my people?!”
The humans provided no answer.
Days later, Mrkxal went to see what history said of his people. Perhaps a clue? A meteor? Perhaps a solar event? Something they had not seen.
But the only news he found read as follows:
“Human Diplomat killed by Agrx Leader.”
And history never spoke of the Agrx again. | They destroyed our home-world just to prove a point. Demanded we serve at their whims, surrender to their armadas.
But how could we retreat with no home to fall back to?
How could we surrender with nothing to save?
Why should we serve those who took from us everything we ever cared for?
So we raided their outposts, claimed their stores.
All trade ground to a halt the first day of the war.
Now we burn their worlds, raze their cities to the ground and move on.
Their fleets outnumber ours. ‘The most powerful in the galaxy’ they were called. But they have many worlds to guard, and we have no reason to stand and fight anymore.
What have we to protect that we should stop?
When the fires of their worlds finally grow cold: *then* they will know the measure of our pain. And when their mighty armies lie dying in their bed: *then* will our children show them the mercy they refused us. (For we serve together, man with woman)
We offered them peace once, but they asked for war. “What’s one world to those who have so many?” They asked. “Everything” is the reply “to those who have none.” | 2019-11-24T18:42:23 | 2019-11-24T17:58:27 | 43 | 28 |
[WP] Dragons continue to grow for as long as they live, the truly ancient ones are occasionally mistaken for large hills. One day, the continents begin to shift | My name is Kip, and I know dragons are real. Ever since I was a kid, I had an eye for them. I could see them in places that no one else could. In the cliffs that my parents drove us by on the way to church every Sunday: rocky faces, eyes closed in slow sleep, giant stoney claws, and folded, stone covered wings. The even larger female, covered in centuries worth of earth and grass napping behind my school.
The summer I turned 13, we drove to the Grand Canyon. The horned, tusked beast snoozing there left me stunned in speechless awe. By then I had learned to keep what I saw to myself, but when my dad noticed that I legitimately could not move, I wound up lying in a cool air conditioned ranger’s office, with a tall vanilla shake. A touch of the sun, they called it. I didn’t argue, I needed the breather after seeing that monster!
I’m not an idiot. I didn’t grow up into a crazy homeless guy who sees dragons. I learned to blend in. I went to college. I got into paleontology. Don't laugh! My skills came in handy. I spent more time doing field work than any two of my colleagues and I found more ancient dinosaurs than any ten. There’s a reason I am not sharing my last name. I have an academic reputation to maintain. And no one has called me Kip for ages. I wrote about the small, dead dragons of the ancient past. I never told anyone about the living giants that slumber all around us—until today.
The longer they live, the larger they grow, and the longer they sleep. And they are practically immortal. I don’t think any new ones have been hatched since the great dieing at the end of the Cretaceous, and the old ones that survived now pass so long between sleeps that most of us can’t even see them. Its an adaptation to keep us from quivering in permanent fear, I think. Like my lactose intolerant sister, I am a throwback.
How big can they get?
Well, today Antarctica woke up. An ice-breathing continent-sized horror. The tidal waves, the earthquakes that we saw as it launched itself into orbit have utterly destroyed the coasts. All of them. Good bye Miami, Baja, Italy, Japan. We will rebuild? A smaller but brighter second moon, now whips across the world’s sky, tail lashing, raining ice and fire down on earth, everywhere.
Why now? After millions of years why did this one--surely the great colossus, the mother of the entire brood--choose to wake up now? And why is she so PISSED?
And then we spotted it. The surviving radar and radio telescopes tracking the beast as it circled our world, picked up something in the background. Something big. An asteroid, on a collision course with our Earth. That’s what my colleagues called it anyway. But I got ahold of the images for myself, and I could see what no one else could.
It’s not an asteroid. Or rather it’s not JUST an asteroid. 65 million years ago something big visited the earth with death and fire like she has never seen before or since. In one cataclysmic blow it wiped the ancient reptiles completely out of existence, except for just a very few of the biggest, including their mother.
And now it’s back for a rematch. | You know being a dragon hunter is more boring than you would think. I went into the academy thinking I could hunt and kill all sorts of mythical dragons, but in reality, only the best hunters have permission to hunt dragons bigger than 5 meters. We, low-rank hunters often get the task of protecting caravans and such. I will tell you the story of the most eventful protection mission I have ever done.
I was ordered to protect a caravan transporting minerals and such. The only issue we had was a small group of bandits trying to steal a cart and that was quickly resolved by the guards. My dragon locator had only sensed one dragon, but it was only a mountain sized one that had been dormant for several hundred years, so no big deal.
I was not hoping to get in trouble, so I split off and went through the special gate meant for hunters like myself. Once I passed through it into Alcartes, my sensor started bleeping like crazy. I was surprised since there had not been any sightings of dragons nearby recently. Just to be sure, I looked behind me to be sure it was just a defect. What I saw was something so shocking it would probably make any untrained person shit their pants. It was like there was suddenly a wall behind me, towering at about 2 or 3 kilometers high. I had not felt a single earthquake or shaking of any kind. I quickly joined back with the caravan and asked if anyone knew what just happened. But soon, I could hear the sound that could only come from one thing: the roar of an enraged dragon.
I just ran away on top of my horse, that instinctively knew what was coming. We made it all the way into Esyr before I came back to my sense and stopped the horse. I turned around to see if it was actually true what I heard and saw, and it was. The country previously known as Herador was built on top of a sleeping dragon. My first thought was that I was impossible that dragons could grow so big, because there was always a hunter that would put down any dragons that would soon grow too big to be slain. As I stared at the monstrosity arising from the ground, I felt a rumbling coming from under my feet. And witnessed the flames of a dragon that had been dormant for several thousands of years.
First time trying anything like this, feedback would be appreciated. (Also made on mobile so there might be some formatting errors.)
| 2018-11-20T11:04:55 | 2018-11-20T10:58:18 | 655 | 30 |
[WP] Somehow, everyone on earth except the richest 1% vanishes. The ultra rich must now exist on this planet with no poorer class of people | Two hundred and twelve million dollars. Well, less than that after taxes, but hell id have settled for just one million. Yesterday when I found out, I lost my mind, but being the skeptical bastard my ex girlfriend says I am, I didn't plan on telling anyone until today when the bulk of the money cleared, and the lottery commission took pictures of me holding the big silly check.
I was behind on my rent, my car just got repoed, and my medical bills were piling up from when I got hit by some rich SOB when I was in new york for thanksgiving. Today I wake up, and none of that matters anymore, but not because im filthy rich now. No, Im not the richest man in 50 miles. Im the only man in 50 miles.
Theres no one left. Woke up about 2 hours ago to a loud explosion and nearly shit myself. It sounded like when you pop a baloon, but about 3 billion times louder. Anyway theres not bodies everywhere and not a zombie in sight, do I have to assume thats the sound the universe makes when everyone literally disappears.
Funny isn't it? Finally win the lottery, and everything goes on sale for 100% off. Looks like I need to find a volleyball to paint a face on or im gonna get lonely fast. | Amidst all the confusion of the 1% remaining, they were too slow to stop the nuclear power plants from going into meltdown. In the first month, the entire Northern Hemisphere was pretty much destroyed by the fallout. South America came out the best. Survivors there started to find each other and farm. Some lived. Now we all speak spanish. The end! | 2015-11-20T16:19:21 | 2015-11-20T13:53:32 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] As the most powerful superhero on the team, no one believed you when you said you could quit the drugs, alcohol, and tobacco whenever you wanted. When the only friend you have on the team died on a mission, you sobered up for the first time in years. Now people will learn why you stay drunk. | “No one is special if everyone is special” I scoff every time I think of those words. Said by someone who WAS special even after the awakening. Everyone had powers now. Ruin came to the world quite quickly before people stopped indulging in themselves and looked around to the ruined cities. Half of that ruin came from the earthquakes and resulting tsunamis. If only they knew the truth.
Telekinesis. It’s a cool power, to move things with your mind. Invisible mind power to do your bidding. Mine is stated to be intermediate on the record. Most powers are classified based on the most powerful seen. Tele-cron? Tele-crown? Tele-crow…..argh whatever, it’s some horrible pun name to do with telekinesis. My memory is dull and fuzzy nowadays. Ol Tele-dudes telekinesis is rated as calamity. Ha, weakling.
Anyway. It was just any other day on the hero squad plus 1. That’s me, the plus 1. Hired help they call me officially. I’m what people call a vigilante. When people became super so did other things. Like those super prisons they built. Impressive stuff honestly. Before I was hired, I’d find the bad guys and put ‘em in the dirt. But the heroes lock em up. Bah, that guy over there killed 100 people, he laughed while doing it. His face full of joy and revelry. And you want to lock him up? Why? Can he repent? Probably not. But there’s a chance the 1% idiots say, so to super prison he goes.
Any other day I said……..it was supposed to be. Ol Tele-dude showed up. With dozens of escaped prisoners from the nearby super wreckage. Not a prison anymore. It looked like some old school modern art thing, kinda cool actually. Then the killing started, civilians, heroes, prisoners. Her.
She was my best friend. My only friend. She understood. Me, my thoughts and why I take all the drugs. If only I was sober then. Everything is dull, slow. Affecting the mind with alcohol and substances reduces my power. And if Tele-dude wasn’t there. She’d be alive. If I was sober she’d be alive. Kayla was the only reason I was on that hero team. She was such a sweet girl.
One of the first things you learn nowadays, when we became super people something else happened to our bodies. Some kind of strange protection. Reduces the effectiveness of certain powers, makes the body stronger and better as well. Tele-dude can somewhat easily kill a super person with telekinesis. Me? Who’s classified as intermediate? I need to flex those mental muscles if you will. If only I was sober. Mr calamity class would be a joke. He can lift dozens of huge super buildings and reduce most of them to rubble by exerting quite a deal of strength. As I said before, weakling.
Thankfully I know where Ol Tele-dude lives. Well, everyone does really. He’s in the top 10 villains. But first I have a funeral to go to. Guess this ring I shaped out of ruby and sapphire is useless now. I’ll still give it to her at least. But before I go I reduce all the drugs in my room to dust. Except the morphine, I’ll give it back to the hospital. It’s supposed to be good stuff. Gets rid of the pain they said. Why does my heart still hurt then? Doesn’t matter how much I take.
I place the ring in the casket. I stand there for who knows how long, gazing at her. Whispers and whimpering all around. She’s not the only one being buried today. Not that I care about the others anyway. Finally I leave, off to super HQ to quit. It’s time people knew the truth. No one is special if everyone is special? HA. Oh but I am special. Very special. And these idiots are about to find that out.
Suits. So many suits. All these big wigs for little me, but I called in a favour so here they are. I told them why they were here and they laughed. A few didn’t because they noticed. Power reclassification. You’re intermediate. Nothing impressive. A waste of time calling all of us.
That’s what they said, now they’re staring at me. Eyes bloodshot and almost popping out of their heads. They laughed harder when I brought out the telescope. Until they saw Mars coming into full view. I looked at them, waved my hand and Mars shot back through space. Roughly where it was before, I think. I held out my hand, and slightly tightened my grip. The planet shook. Tsunami warnings blared all across the world.
I walked away, towards Ol Tele-dudes grand house. It won’t be like that much longer. | It's a dark and somber night at the Heros Headquarters, all the lights are out except for one, a small light come from one of the rooms on the top floor, in there is a man slumped over a desk, surrounded but liquors, drugs and ash from old cigarettes, writting on a journal:
"April 26, 3:42 A.M. :
We were all there, when it happened, tommy, thomas, it was my fault I am so sorry, it was too fast to stop it , I was too drunk to stop it, no one else was strong enough, I am so so sorry friend, you gave me this book, you said it could help to get the thoughts out of my head and I only laughed, you wanted me to sober up, you thought I could be better than this, I can't, I could never explain why did I drink so much only Kirk and the old man know my secret, but if I wasn't such a coward you would still be here. They never belived me when I said I could quit the drugs, alcohol and tobacco whenever I wanted, they just laughed.
You knew that even drunk my power could be stronger than all of them, well now The emperor will pay."
As soon as he finished writting he got up and started to briskly throw all of it in the trash, as the anger and grief too over him, then he passed out on the bed. A month went by no drugs no alcohol, the nightmares worst than ever, no one knew about them, only the old man knew his story. Most of the other heros where skeptical, most thought that when he dissappeared every night it was to drink in secret and shame, but the man left every night in search of answers but sober he couldn't sleep.
Thomas had been the newest addition to the team, he was only 19 years old, to him only a child. He was bright and naive maybe, his power was to create energy barriers, to contain or repel things, not the strongest but not the weakest. He was the only one that belived in the man, the man didn't have a face or a name, but he kept the same mask for them and allowed them to call him Rick, drunken Rick was how most called him.
And he had finally found him, ans he was going after the emperor alone, but Andromeda saw him and called the others.
He knew they were there, he knew they would see it, he didn't care, once he made it inside the emperor's hide out he killed everyone in his way trapping them in nightmares so horrific, so hellish they would always end up killing themselves, none of the heros had ever seen him use his true power, but when he removed the mask it was all unleashed.
He found the emperor and took him to a nightmare inside his head and tortured him in there for 100 years, pealing his skin, twisting his body, he could feel all of the pain, but couldn't die, for it wasn't real, on the outside the other heros could see the blood start to drip from the emperor's eyes, and after what felt for both of them like a century they were back, tears of blood pouring from the emperor's eyes, the man still faceless. And as he walked past them they could hear the banging, and when they looked the emperor, their nemesis the most powerful of the villans hitting his head against the wall so hard until he smashed his own skull.
The man never drank, and never wore a mask again.
(Not my best work I spent too much time trying to think of the super power that I ended up losing inspiration :/) | 2022-12-28T10:10:48 | 2022-12-28T09:04:31 | 26 | 18 |
[WP] The desperate, dying Paladin binds you, a demon, to a pact. In exchange for his soul, you will live on Earth as he lived: “protect the innocent, save the wicked”. 200 years later, the pact ends today. And you’re not sure you want to go back to hell. | Staring down upon your gauntlet, You felt the urge to leave the body you’ve been imprisoned within for two centuries rush through your veins. It was hard to resist and for three days since the pact you were forced into ended, you’ve been torn on what to do.
The welcoming warmth you felt every time you did as the pact bid you has since faded away and the thought of continuing without it left you uncertain. How would you know if what you did from here on was good or not without it? Have you ever made a difference? Maybe it was better if you’d returned to the hell from whence you came?
“Ser Oviss?” A familiar voice called out to you amidst the sea of people occupying the city square. You lifted your gaze and it was met by a sorceress you’ve known for over a century; Elizabeth.
“Why are you sitting here, all alone and full of gloom?” She asked whilst the wind danced with her outfit of blue, frilly cloth and soft leather.
“The pact ended three days ago.” You said with a sigh. She cocked her head at you.
“And you’re still here.” She nodded knowingly with a smirk. You shock your head at her natural smugness. Yet she was right; you were still in your human form so a part of you still wanted to stay. But would you do more good than harm without the pact?
“I’m torn, Elizabeth; a part of me wants to stay, but I know in my heart that I don’t belong here. Without the pact, how would I know what to do?”
She paused for a moment and looked visibly confused before her eyes lit up with resolve.
“You say you don’t belong here, but give me a chance to prove you wrong.” She said and pulled out her wand. She crushed something in one hand and twirled her wand behind her, where an oval swirl of black and gold appeared mid-air.
“You know I hate portals.” You tried to retort, but you knew better than to argue further. The two of you stepped through the gate.
***
“Where are we?” You asked while glancing around the narrow alleyway the two of you found yourselves in after leaving the gate.
“You’ll see soon enough.” Elizabeth teased and threw a cloak at you and motioned for you to put it on. You did as you were told and pulled the hood over your head. After that she led you out from the alley and into the open street. Instead of regular guards, you were met by patrols of men and women wearing the same armor as you; a marriage of boiled leather, chain mail, and plate pieces. You felt confused, but the sorceress did not allow you to stand around and ponder for long as she dragged you ever onward.
In no time the two of you entered the town square where you noticed a statue rising above the people. After walking closer, you noticed the resemblance: It was you. There you stood, in stone, with your armor and the hammer inherited from the man who swore you to the pact.
“What is this?” You asked and turned to the sorceress.
“You might not remember it, but a century ago you saved this town; Mirken is the name of it. They built this statue in your honor and founded an order in your name.” She replied and motioned towards the guards passing through the square.
“An order?”
“Yes. An order of paladins. For a century they have dedicated themselves to live by your exemplar. They’ve aided and saved nearby villages and towns for years.” She continued.
“Why are you showing me this?” You asked, but deep in your heart you knew why.
“Because you have inspired people!” She replied without missing a beat, closing the distance between you. “Not because of the pact, but because you were there when no one else would come. You were their light in the dark. Their hope when all they knew was despair. And this is only one town—one people—out of the countless that you’ve saved and inspired over the centuries throughout our realm.”
You took a step back from her and felt your back brush against the statue. All this time you had done only what the pact wanted you to do, always on the move to vanquish one evil after the other, never staying for long in any place.
“For years you’ve saved the people of this realm, so I won’t judge you if you want to leave. But I know, and so do you, that you’re no longer a demon, Ser Oviss.” She said with a warm smile and tears in her eyes, “You are so much more than that.” And with that she opened another gate and left you.
You hesitated for a second before following her into the unknown.
***
What greeted you was a field of gold set alight by fire amidst steel and blood. The farms surrounding a closed city were burning and a grim host held it by its throat. A force of men and women, all dressed in the same armor as you, had gathered upon the hill overlooking the city. Behind them you stood in the woods.
“You know who you are, my friend.” She whispered behind you, and in your heart you finally knew. All hesitation washed away as you stood tall, summoned your glowing hammer, and left the woods.
“Ser Oviss is with us!” They began to chant and cheer as they too drew their swords. They gathered behind you and in a swift charge, the Paladins of Oviss thrust like a spear of light into the host and shattered it.
The city was saved that day and an everlasting Paladin was born anew. | The brand on my arm itched, trying to distract me from my current task. I absentmindedly scratched it, keeping my gaze on the man before me. I could feel the whisper in my head, offering suggestions on how to proceed. I ignored him, reaching out a finger to lift the chin of the man.
"You know who I am now, don't you?"
He hissed, fear colouring his voice.
"Yes, I do. Malina, The Good Succubus."
I grinned, letting my illusionary visage fade, revealing the demonic beauty that was my body
"Excellent. Now, I can tell you have been a very bad boy. Bad enough that your soul is ripe to head downstairs. Do you know what that would be like?"
He looked at me, and shook his head.
"Of course you don't. You think about the here and now, not the future, and not of others. Any other demon would happily sit here, and push you to do darker things. But, as you can see, I'm not most demons. So, let me show you what is in store for you if you carry on like this."
I placed a clawed thumb to his head, and fed images of the hellscape to him. Through me, he saw swamps of the damned, held by thick mud, fed the sorrows of the world. Their mournful cries were haunting, as it changed to pits of hellflame, where traitors burned for eternity, their flesh charred to ash, before healing and burning anew. The man pulled back, choking back tears.
"Stop, please!"
I lowered my hand, carefully wiping away one of his tears.
"You see, that is what awaits you. After a single life of decadence, an eternity of suffering. But you can stop this."
He gazed at me with a mixture of emotions. Fear, sorrow, anger. And a tiny shred of hope.
"How? How can I save myself?"
"You change. Free your slave miners. Invest in the generations to come. Instead of striking at those who displease you, empathise with them. Admit to your crimes, and atone for them. Seek a god who will take you in. If you are truly changing for the better, they will accept you."
He nodded, understanding beginning to dawn. I returned my illusion, and turned to leave as he mulled it over.
"Remember, change now. If not, they'll be seeing you downstairs soon."
I left, closing the door behind me. The voice in my head spoke up, the familiar deep voice reverberating in my skull.
*You did well again, Malina.*
"Thanks."
I heard a sigh, then he spoke again.
*You know what tomorrow is don't you?*
I did. I had been keeping track of the date, and looked at my brand, visible even through my illusion.
"The end of the 200th year. The completion of our contract."
*I don't suppose I can convince you not to go back?*
"Actually..."
Despite him being inside, I could tell he was taken aback.
*Are you serious?*
"I never thought I would say this, but I have been pondering on going back."
*Far be it from me to argue against you, but I am a little shocked.*
I smiled at that.
"I can see why. You were a man of pure light. A devotee to good. I am, as you once called me, an embodiment of sin. But... I've seen things from your side. Seen people in need, and helped them."
*And...?*
"And, I've actually enjoyed it. I have looked forward to each new person. Which is in complete opposite to what I am. So.... I don't know. I want to go back. I miss the Infernal planes. But then.... I want to stay here."
I chuckled slightly at my indecision.
"Can you believe this? I'm dithering like I was back in my first century of demonhood. Its ironic. You selling your soul has actually changed mine."
The voice was slightly subdued.
*So what are you going to do?*
I sighed, rubbing my face.
"I don't know. Think on it."
I said that, but within my withered heart I already knew what I would do. I wasn't going to go back. And I wasn't ready to let go of my bartered soul, my friend, just yet. | 2020-12-16T12:12:23 | 2020-12-16T11:14:57 | 63 | 30 |
[WP] When you were 10 years old a dragon saved your life. No one believed you, until he came to your house today asking for a favor. | The people screamed as the creature’s large wings blotted out the sun, an ominous darkness falling over our small farming town. The dragon had returned, the creature that rescued me coming back to claim its debt. I was ready for this day; I knew that having such a creature save my life would be at a cost, like a deal with the devil, the deal was never in your favor.
It had been ten years since that fateful day. I was just a child when the creature soared through the heavens. They trapped me, surrounded by a group of hungry wolves. I thought I would die there until the fluttering wings sent the hungry creatures rolling back. Some wolves barked, trying to frighten the creature before falling away. One weak child, they could kill, but a dragon? The wolves knew when they were beat. It would be far too exhausting to fight such a creature.
The magnificent creature dropped to the ground, its quick sniffs dragging my hair back and forth. After a quick examination, the creature opened its jaws. At first, I thought it had saved me for an easy meal. That was until it spoke.
“Human, you are foolish to wander so far away. Had I not been here, you would have been torn apart by those ravenous creatures. When the time comes that I need your help, I hope you remember this day, because I’ll remember your scent.”
It left me stunned, in silent awe as it left as quickly as it had arrived. The dragon didn’t await my reply; it didn’t need to. It wasn’t as if I could say no to such a beast. Now I had that same stunned look, It may not have been my first time seeing such a creature, but it was impossible never to be in awe of it. The way it descended, parting the clouds before thumping against the ground.
“Where is the small mortal?”
Ah, that must be me. Stepping forward past all the screaming villagers, I approached the dragon. It gave me a look of suspicion before putting its snout near my face. That same gust of warm air felt as it sniffed me, pulling its face away.
“You have grown human. I expected to see a runt. You will have to do.”
“Is this about the favor?”
“What else would it be about? I have found a use for you. I want you to stay with me for two weeks. I need your assistance with a task.”
“Sure, let me just pack my-“
“NO, now.”
“Ok now, sorry.”
I moved towards the dragon, anxiously moving to its side. Was I meant to climb on it’s back? Would it get mad if I touched its back? I stood there for a few moments before it tilted its back towards me. Taking this as a cue to climb aboard. Once I was atop the beast, I couldn’t even scream before it threw itself towards the heavens, flying high before taking me back to its cave. Struggling to hold on to the scaled beast, relieved when we landed again.
“So, what do you want me to do? Watch your hoard?”
“Like I would leave something so precious with a human.”
Hoping off the dragon’s back, I hit the ground, staring at the cave entrance, watching a small dog sized dragon run out, jumping at what one could assume was their parent. Once the small dragon had said hello to its parent, it came over to me, allowing me to pat its head.
“You humans, like small creatures, play with my child for two weeks until it can fend for itself. If you do that, it clears our debt, try to survive.”
Survive? Like I had to worry about such a thing. Look how cute it was. I went to pat it again, only for it to try to bite me, its teeth sharp like the end of a spear, nearly taking my hand with it. Ok, maybe I might have to survive.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | I had no idea the concept of favours existed in the realm of fantasy as well. Seeing the current state of the world, I'd long given up hope on the existence of pure, selfless good, relegating that to characters within storybooks and myths. Can you blame me? Everybody I've met, everybody I've read about always have some ulterior motive beneath their acts of good. Billionaires donate millions to charity not out of the goodness in their hearts, but for tax breaks. Politicians distribute rations to the masses, providing comfort in times of strife all in the name of voting. Temples ask for money, but how much of it really goes to the poor?
These are just the people you read about in the papers. You'd excuse my cynicism if you knew about the types of people who've used me.
It's quite an oxymoron, isn't it? Someone who probably wouldn't be alive today if not for something straight out of our greatest legends, becoming so unbearably cynical.
People say that every myth of ours has some semblance of truth hidden within. Especially those that are prevalent in myths across continents, from times when people did not know of a world outside their tribe.
Dragons, for instance. They're not always the demons of the sky raining hellfire and doom on mortals like us. They're also symbols of good fortune, medicine, and faith.
Like the dragon that saved my life.
When I was 10 years old I was diagnosed with a rare type of leukemia. One of those once in a generation type diseases, with barely any recorded cases available. Doctors tried everything they could on me, with experts across the country, even the world being consulted for my particular case.
Nothing made a difference. I remember my doctors preparing my parents to say goodbye to me a night before they finally pulled the plug. I was 10 years old. I was scared, but I also couldn't fully comprehend the magnitude of what was happening to me. The cocktail of drugs coursing in my veins probably didn't make my thoughts any clearer.
To this date, I can't imagine the reasons behind what happened to me that night. I wasn't particularly devout back then, and I wasn't necessarily the best kid either. My parents were decent folk, true, but they weren't saints. They fought, they cried, they made mistakes too.
As I was lying alone on the bed, with nothing but the sound of my breath and the instruments around me to keep me company, I noticed the shadows in the room lengthening. Somewhat akin to how shadows elongate as the day progresses, except this was happening in seconds.
The last thing I remember is the sight of a dragon head made of shadow at the foot of my bed, before waking up the next day with doctors marveling at my seemingly miraculous, overnight recovery.
30 years later and I've begun seeing that shadowy head everywhere I go. I have no way of knowing what it wants, but it's always there near me, a spectre over my shoulder. I have no idea if it wants repayment of some sort. God forbid I anger it in my ignorance. | 2020-11-21T04:10:18 | 2020-11-21T03:47:51 | 429 | 194 |
[WP] You're a supervillain with a superhero as your arch-nemesis. When they come out to the world about their depression and mental health, others call them weak and there is backlash. You, however, are the first one to support them publicly. | „Damn, I‘ve never done one of those before.“ I mumble, while I straighten my tie for the what had to
Be 15th time. „At least…officially.“ I chuckled.
The door opened and my secretary, Claire, looked in. „They are ready for you, Mr. Noir.“ I nodded gratefully. That woman was truly a blessing. Without her my whole evil empire would fall apart. She managed to
Cobble together this press conference within a couple of hours since the news. Donning my signature black mask, I strode outside. *Boy, they all came. Room is really cramped with Reporters*
Taking a seat, Claire quickly made introductions and the stage was mine.
„Dear Reporters, especially those of the daily news…sorry again for your headquarters. My death ray went a bit woozy and I really am all for freedom of speech and stuff…“ Claire audibly cleared her throat. „Anyway, welcome you all. As you are all aware, there has been a situation regarding White Knight. And now everyone listen closely. Talking about your problems is hard, especially as a figure of public interest. Mental
Health is just as important as physical health. You don‘t expect people to walk on a broken leg!
If I hear anyone badmouthing White knight, I‘ll personally stand you in Front of my newst experiments and after I‘ll flay you till you…AHHHHHHHHH!“ Claire ground her Heel into my foot. „Sir, no evil monologuing on official press releases.“
„Thank you. As I was saying. I really hope, White Knight can take some much needed time of and get some professional help. I promise, I‘ll lay nice and low till you return and cook up something extra evil for you to fight once you‘re up and running again!“
I looked into the crowd. They seemed adequatly terrified. „So, any further questions?“ | I would like to you all see this. This brave woman that was your champion, see what you have done to her. I am not the villain, that is what I have been trying to warn you all. She got crushed by your own system by being a mother, a worker, a woman and a “super-hero”. She battle for the Status-quo and what did it bring to her? Depression, loneliness, despair and now she is abandoned. Am I the real villain here? Really? Did she got paid when I tried to destroy the banking system? No. Did she got a relief from her nanny when I kidnapped all those billionaires in a Saturday evening? No. You are the real villian. I just would like to say that I support you, Arachnea, and I wish you the best recover and my lair is open whenever you need someone to talk to. | 2022-06-21T10:42:29 | 2022-06-21T09:53:16 | 34 | 22 |
[WP] Your an evil genius bent on world domination. However your evil organisation is crippled by general, mundane office drama/problems. | "Well no one told me Roy was gay! It was an offhand remark. I wouldn't have said it if I had known!"
"Well that's just the point sir. The fact you thought you could say it at all despite the audience," the henchman kicked nervously at the brick facade surrounding the iron door the two men stood outside of.
"So what? You're telling me that because of one little slip of the tongue my henchmen are going to keep giving me those awkward stares in the hallway until I apologize?" Fisk shook his head and turned away from the stocky man in disgust.
"Even if you apologize sir..." the man searched for the right words," It's got to be a fundamental change."
"A come to Jesus moment? Or do you want me on the cross myself?"
"Well, I mean you can say you're sorry, but unless you mean it and it causes meaningful change in your life..."
"How the hell did the world get this way? When did everyone become so sensitive? Who cares what anus he puts his member into?!"
The henchman cringed, "Sir, please just stop now."
"What? What did I say now?"
"You do know not all homosexual men engage in anal sex don't you?"
"Well Howdy Doody, this is news to me! You mean it all just doesn't fit into a nice baseball reference? This is just getting ridiculous. One of the reasons I do this... I mean... WE DO THIS is to stick it to the establishment. We're not here to hold each other's hands and sing kumbaya!"
"I know sir, but even still there are standards. Even our social group has norms. Maybe thirty years ago this sort of thing was acceptable but.."
"Are you saying I'm getting too old to do my job?" The graying man craned his tall frame to tower over the shorter henchman.
"Uh..."
"Are you trying to engage in some sort of age discrimination here? I know you aren't here on behalf of the union but you do represent them still. Even in this private conversation. I will not be judged by my age!" the scientist struck the door with his cuff link causing a spark in the dim light.
"Sir I assure you this has nothing to do with your age. It's more to do with your behavi.."
"Oh now I know why the committee tried to buy me out last year. 'We'll give you excellent stock options in our shadow corporations and will still list you as the leader. You just will be involved in fewer low level decisions.' What a load of bunk that was!"
"Sir I think we're going off on an unrelated tangent here. I can tell I struck a nerve. I apologize it's just this whole Roy thing has everyone on edge. It's as if we don't even know who you any more," the henchmen wrung his hands behind his back.
"Oh I'll show you who I am. I'll show you all! I'm the ruthless son of a bitch of started this organization from the ground up with only a slew of bank robberies and one genetically modified alligator. I am not just the founder, I am Dark Thunder!"
"Sir, I think you're getting a bit narcissistic here. I mean..."
The henchman's head exploded. The scientist's revolver smoked as he twirled it once, blew on the barrel, and thrust it back into his lab coat pocket.
"I am the ruthless son-of-a-bitch that started this all and I don't have to answer to anyone."
| Fragrant Harbor IRC
11:48 AM: Meeting Regarding Takeover of Southeastern Asian Peninsula
Respondants: Emperor Perry. Syndicate Chairman Henh. General Ling.
P: "So, assuming we make headway on Southeastern Expansion, we could be looking to re-establish Indochina under Chinese control in say... four months.... Heng, you had an objection?"
H: "Yea, Pei. The rest of us have a union retreat planned in two months for two months. So, we'll be out in Australia for a while."
P: "Wha- Why didn't you tell me this BEFORE I mobilized the army?!"
H: "Well... I didn't feel like it."
P: "You didn't feel like it.... This is why I fucking hate you, Heng."
L: "Hey, hey, hey, back it up you two. Let's talk about the real meat and guts behind this. What's the bonus for this?"
P: "THERE IS NO BONUS, THIS IS YOUR JOB, LING!"
L: "Ehh... I dunno. The jungle's awfully hot during the summertime. Can't really steer well in those waters. Food down there really sucks too."
H: "Well, I don't know about that Ling. Pad Thai's a real interesting dish from what I've heard."
L: "Never liked Thai food myself... Too spicy."
P: "Jesus christ, can we please focus on the goddamn meeting?! Hello! Conquering Southeast Asia here!"
L: "Can we just reschedule until say... winter? The weather'd work out a lot better then."
H: "No, better idea. Let's push it until February of next year. They'll be having that Lunar New Year thing going on and we can wipe them out by surprise."
P: "You're both Chinese. You'll just goof around and party all week too."
H: "Oh yeah. Forgot."
P: "Ugh... so, any ideas Ling?"
L: "I'm thinking lunch at that new French place down the street. Look at the time, it's 12. See ya."
Ling has signed out.
P: "Henh, don't you dare fucking leave."
H: "Oh, oh shit. My stomach. I needa like..."
Henh has signed out.
P: "Hate all of you so much." | 2015-03-29T22:10:56 | 2015-03-29T21:36:08 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] The year is 2015 and the Pope has called for a crusade. | The pope waves at the crowd below.
I watch his smiles from my shelter inside a doorway. There is a light mist drifting down from the clouds and my equipment is sensitive. It will be a standard blessing he gives, more posturing for the crowd, then a sign off.
I shuffle my feet uncomfortably. The crowd is large and full of foreigners and the elderly. The old nonnas have tears in their eyes as they watch their leader and clutch their rosaries.
"My children," the pope begins, and almost instantly the raucous crowed inside the piazza is hushed. "I cannot bring you the blessing you wish for today." A hum builds within the crowd. I see the reporters struck with new interest, pleased that they will have a new headline for their articles.
"You know me as a simple man," he continues. "I wish to live in the ways of our lord Jesus Christ. Yet my heart is not at ease. I see mothers dying in the street, clutching half starved babies and I watch my brothers in the church pass them by. I see the unrest in the Middle East, the birthplace of our Lord, and I hear whispers that perhaps it is for the best. I see the extravagance of the extremely wealthy and the poverty of the masses and I can no longer stand by and watch." The hum of the crowd has become a dull roar. Reporters scribble furiously, hanging on the man's every word. The nonnas are confused, or perhaps mostly deaf, and do not understand what is happening around them.
"Thus it is this blessing I give to you today, my children. The blessing of a Crusade, sanctioned in the Lord's holy name. You will defend yourself against those who would oppress you. You will take the mansions and create hospitals and homes for the poor. You will no longer be a slave to a man who does not know your face, who uses the profits from your toil to fund his sins. Today is the day. Today is the day that the meek shall inherit the earth!" He finishes to a screaming and cheering crowd. Through the tears in my eyes I see reporters shouting into their phones. The nonnas whisper prayers to rosaries and the foreigners have no idea what has just transpired.
The communicator in my ear buzzes. I listen to my orders over the ecstatic cries of the crowd. A sob escapes my lips as I tell the man in my ear that it will be done, yes Sir, of course sir.
I heft my equipment onto my shoulder.
He was a good Pope, and a better man. | Inspired by /u/Kuichigire's "not gonna happen." low effort comment.
"Not gonna happen" The words scratch at the back of hismind like a terrible itch. But it did happen and now the world went to hell.
The newly elevated pope on the Christmas of 2014 declared a crusade to save the Iraqi Christians and cleanse the Middle East of radical Islam with the light of Christ. His hard line approach won support with a world horrified by the new Caliphate and the annihilation of the fledging Kurdish nation, the UN was seen as slow and ineffective and suddenly the ancient behemoth known as the Catholic church woke as is from a slumber full of vitality and fire.
But it did happen and here he was thousands of miles from home on a troop train, he didn't quite know why he signed up. He wasn't a true believer but the excitement had been whipped up and a chance to see action, save his fellow man and be a hero. The train slowed to a stop and other troops in the carriage swayed gently to the side. "Alright boys and girls shut up, get up, stretch and hydrate we'll be here for thirty " shouted a Sergeant over the chatting troopers. He was only one week out from the front line.
Trooper Clarkson died on his first day on the line a IED in a dead cat peppered his body with shrapnel , they had been warned about IEDs during their rushed training. "not gonna happen" he had said, IEDs happened to other people Clarkson knew he would die a hero's death. | 2014-08-11T04:25:00 | 2014-08-11T04:14:35 | 102 | 12 |
[WP] You've been trapped in Y location for Z hours, solve for X to escape the algebra zone. | Three days ago, we found the final puzzle. All the other puzzles were leading to this one. If we got it right, we could have escaped.
*If we got it right.*
I sit on the edge of the cliff, staring into the distance. Alone. The waves lap gently against the shore. Less than a mile off the coast, a small skinny island stands awkwardly in the ocean.
I scream at the ocean. “We couldn’t be wrong! There’s no way – we scoured every nook of this wretched fucking puzzle. There was only one right answer. Only one. Only one…” Tears well up in my eyes. I fall to the ground. Dozens of equations were etched onto the soil. We've checked the math a hundred times.
The image of Sam's smile fills my mind. *Don't worry, Jen,* he'd say. *The two of us will be out of this place in no time.*
For three months, Sam and I have been stuck here. The last thing we remember was the lights flickering and the plane falling out of the sky. Neither of us knew how we ended up here on this deserted, oddly shaped island surrounded by nothing but the ocean and tall cliffs.
The island curved in unnatural angles, with strangely placed mountains and lagoons. That's not the most curious thing about the island. As the days went by, we discovered math puzzles hidden all around the island. Etched on tree barks, printed on the rocks, hidden inside the guts of fish were anything from simple algebraic manipulation to second order differential equations.
In the center of the island was a giant cave. Inside, we found a single ornately-carved table covered with sand. Whenever we wrote the right answer to a math puzzle we found on the table, we were rewarded with food and water.
Three days ago, we found the final puzzle. All the other puzzles were leading to this one. We discovered that the island was not randomly shaped. They formed exact shapes, letters. They formed the final puzzle.
*X + 3X – 4 = 0.* That was the question.
*4X = 4*
*X = 1*
One. The answer had to be one. We tried every method to solve the problem. We mapped the entire island a dozen times, checking every inch of ground. We checked our math a hundred times. We had to be right. Except, when Sam went into the cave, he never came out.
*Don't worry, Jen,* he'd say. *The two of us will be out of this place in no time.*
Now, I stand at the top edge of the first 'X'. I gaze out at the ocean. Sam and I planned to swim to the island off the coast, right before he disappeared. *I wonder what’s on it,* I think to myself.
Suddenly, it hits me.
I sprint towards the center of the island, straight into the cave. “Sam... we got it wrong,” I mutter to myself, between pants.
“The island off the coast. It’s the number two.”
*X^2 + 3X – 4 = 0.* That was the question.
*(X - 1) × (X + 4) = 0*
*X = 1 or X = -4*
As a quadratic equation, there were two separate solutions. I scratch the numbers one and minus four on the table. Nothing happens.
Then all of a sudden, the ground shakes and light fills the entire world. | *Between the worlds and the heavens, there lie shadowy planes of higher dimensions where mortal men fear to tread, where beasts of unimaginable terror lurk to prey on the unprepared.*
"We're stuck," Toby said glumly. "I hate algebra."
"We can do this," Sally said. "We just have to keep trying."
"We've been trying for hours, and look where it's got us. We're completely lost."
*In the shadows, a beast stirred. It raised its head and sniffed. From among the fractal trees and Mobius rocks, a scent wafted to its nose. The scent of humans, trapped in the Algebraic Zone.*
*The beast arose from its bed, and left the lair. It was time to hunt.*
"We're thinking about this wrong," Sally said. "What if geometry here is not Euclidean? We've been looking at this all wrong..."
Toby blinked and wiped his spectacles. "That could work," he admitted. "What if we tried a differential equation instead of a linear one?"
*The beast crouched behind a fractal tree, and licked its lips. A gob of saliva slowly fell from its slavering jaws, but did not fall straight to the ground, at least not as you and I would see it, for space here was in more than three dimensions, and curved in ways that we can not even begin to imagine.*
*It watched the two humans, and then charged. They began to run. The beast picked up speed. And the faster it ran, the faster they did.*
"Got it," Sally said. "Substitute for X with a new equation, and the whole thing solves it self."
*The beast was almost upon them. It opened its fanged mouth and lunged for the slower of the two, the boy.*
*But suddenly space bent in a new way that the beast was unprepared for, and it lost its footing. It picked itself up, snarling, but they were already gone. Letting out a howl of frustration, it slunk back to its lair.*
"Ok, what next?" said Toby, finishing the algebra problem with a flourish of his pencil.
Sally turned the page. "Next up? Calculus."
*In another of the hidden dimensions, a different beast stirred in its cave, as the smell of two mortals drifted in on the breeze.*
---
Read more of my stories at r/jd_rallage | 2017-03-17T09:17:13 | 2017-03-17T08:56:38 | 74 | 10 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he liked?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about." | Bolton the doppelganger did not want to be an adventurer. He wanted to live quietly, and bake cookies. He grew tired of the constant hustle and bustle of morphing into people, committing crimes because no one trusted the Doppleganger kind. He figured his secluded life in the hills might buy him peace.
The rogue laid on his floor, blood oozing from the pan shaped dent on his forehead. The doppleganger held his frying pan, a pained look on his face.
"I didn't mean to kill you..." he muttered, letting the pan fall to the ground, and burying his smooth black face in his long alien fingers.
Bolton had awoken to the sounds of someone rummaging through his dresser. Without really thinking he'd lifted his trusty frying pan, and crept up on the black cloaked figure. The rogue, a stout fat dwarf turned and snarled at him bradishing twin black daggers.
"hey stop stealing my stuff!" Bolton said.
The rogue responded with an inept slash of a dagger. With a frightened flurry of pan blows Bolton had brought the rogue to the ground.
Now Bolton fretted. Many a doppler murdered with impunity, but Bolton never wished to do anything more than avoid trouble. He could read minds, yet he refused to. It spoiled the fun of meeting people, and knowing them. Due to this aversion to murder Bolton now stood paralyzed, unable to think of what to do with this body.
He began to poke at the stocky form, when he heard a firm knock emanating from behind his wood door.
"Durin, you oaf, you've been gone hours, what's going on."
Without really thinking Bolton became Durin. With a slam Barrin the Paladin opened the door and saw two Durins, one wearing simple clothes, the other armor. One wielded Durin's black steel knives, the other a bloodied cast iron pan.
"What's going on here?" Barrin asked.
"well um, see I fell asleep here in this cave, and then this doppleganger tried to steal my armor and knives and so I had to beat him with this frying pan?" Said Bolton.
The paladin smirked.
"I see, well good job. Now come on. We've got some ruins to explore. And next time maybe don't rob a domicile if you aren't sure it is abandoned." Barrin said.
Reluctantly, Bolton donned the dead Durrin's armor, and tools. After the paladin buried Durin, and planted a plank in the ground. The dopple busied himself inside preparing his house to be left, and Barrin wrote with a peice of charcoal from his pouch.
"here lies, Durin, a theif, a rat bastard, and a betrayer. He got himself killed robbing a good man." He wrote.
With a cool wisp of the wind following them, the newly minted Bolton/Durrin followed Barrin, not sure of the golden Haired human's destination, and worrying deeply of the state of his garden.
| 2017-09-15T06:04:09 | 2017-09-15T05:03:01 | 193 | 12 |
[WP] The princess was cursed that her first husband would die a horrible death. Inorder to avoid this horrible fate the royal family used you as a scapegoat and married you to the princess. But because of your immortality you have died over 20 times and still come back to life. | *The princess’ curse had killed me before, and it would kill me again. But I had to endure for the sake of the royal family. I had to hold them together against the tidal waves of nationalism and fear. I had to keep them from breaking. And I had to watch over them as their father did, as a true son should.*
*Years later, as I sobbed into my pillow, I looked at my father, and I saw the monster he had become. A man possessed by pure lust for power, a man blinded by greed and a man completely consumed by jealousy. A man who abandoned his family and everyone in it for the sake of personal financial gain. A man bent on world conquest just so he could own it. A man who put his family before all else, and himself last. And me? Nothing more than a tool to tame the wild curse of the Hunt.*
*I could see the look in his eyes. He hungered for me, but I could endure no more. One horrible death was sacrifice enough, let alone a dozen. I've done my part.*
*I between pain and death I found him, the King, and carried him away, knowing full well that the demons would find me and consume me. Yet I did it. My lust for life still burns within me, and when the call came again, I shall fulfill it.*
*I took him the the place with the sand and drew a line. It was forbidden to touch the sand, but death was already knocking, so I risked nothing. The King, however, began to fade with the sands of time. His life on one side of the line, what was left of mine on the other.*
*I gave my life to the Hunt, many lives, and now it was time for another's.*
------
This was mostly written by my AI! (I had to babysit the machine a little, but 90% of it was written by my AI which writes based off 7 years of my work) | I didn’t hate the princess, she was pretty cool, but I didn’t love her. As her friend, I wanted nothing more than to see her happy with someone who loves her for everything she is, unfortunately that is not me. Thanks to the curse though the royal family thinks they can use me as a scape goat for their daughters happiness, they did this because I “died over 20 times and came back to life” just because I take medicine for things that would have killed them because they don’t believe in medicine here, but this curse is sure to kill me. I’ve tried to make a potion or something for it, but the king has always stopped me. Saying “you are doomed to die so spend the last of your days happily married to our beautiful princess.” I really hate that guy, not like there’s been much hope for me. Guess I’m going to die because of a kingdom of idiots, at least once I die the princess can be happy, I guess that’s enough. | 2021-06-09T11:44:56 | 2021-06-09T09:03:06 | 31 | 17 |
[WP] One day in class you decide to scream something in your head to catch mind readers. As you do, you see your crush flinch | French 405: Fairy Tales of the 18th century. Nothing but the sound of scribbling pencils, turning pages, and the occasional sniff to break the particular silence that comes with exam day. A few more questions and I’ll be finished, but first, how do I explain the relationship between love, politics, and La Belle au Bois Dormant?
Deep breath. Look up, roll my neck, find a distraction. Notice how the window is open. Notice how that slight breeze makes this humid room bearable. Notice how the breeze ruffles Lee’s hair, how close he sits next to me. Notice how lost he looks while staring at the second page. Notice his furrowed brows (endearing!), his slight frown (cute!), all those freckles (love them!), and notice
(THAT FUCKING WASP COMING IN THROUGH THE WINDOW!)
And my eyes are wide and my breath is hitched—who can blame me when the wasp is so big?—but I’m fairly in control of my physical movements, even when I see my least favorite bug. That means my reaction doesn’t account for Lee’s flinch, or his sidelong glance toward the wasp, or the flush on his face when he briefly meets my questioning gaze.
I’m open to the possibility, but I don’t put much faith in my speculation… I feel silly. Even so, I close my eyes and concentrate, sending good vibes, and correct answers, in Lee’s direction.
(if you’re trying to order the events of the story, it’s number 3, then 1, then 7, then…)
Then I repeat myself, just in case. A self-conscious smile tugs at the corners of my lips and I finish my own exam. I don’t think about it again until we get them back. Lee scores higher than I do. I’m glad, but jealous. I don’t really notice him writing a secret message on my exam because I’m trying to
(be cool be cool be cool)
but when I get home, I do notice the THANKS in the margin of my paper. I notice the YOU ARE COOL. I notice the WANNA GET SOME COFFEE. And when take a breath and concentrate and think
(I would love some coffee)
the next time we meet each other, I notice how my stomach summersaults at his smile. | As I stood in the lab room, I let my eyes wander as I waited for the centrifuge to stop. I crossed my arms over my chest and glanced around the room before he came into my line of vision.
I grinned to myself. *Cute.*
As the centrifuge whirred to a stop, I pulled out my group's test tubes and began to head back to our station. I narrowed my eyes away from our results and the discussion at hand to sneak a peek back at him, and chuckled when I made eye contact. *Smooth.*
Quickly looking away, I made a bold conclusion about our results and scanned around at my lab group. They nodded hesitantly, then with more confidence as they wrapped their thoughts around my conclusion.
By the time we had written down our results and conclusions, I had only been thinking to myself about the lab itself. Looking back up, I watched as he sat down at the counter at the front of the room.
*I hate Thor.*
I watched as he whipped his head around with a dumbfounded look that dissolved once he noticed my gaze fixated on him. Bursting into laughter, I observed as a flush appeared on his face.
"You don't really hate Thor, do you?"
| 2017-11-13T19:03:42 | 2017-11-13T18:05:33 | 165 | 102 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a natural tattoo of their spirit animal. Every person gets the traits and abilities of their respective animal. But when you were born your father, having a bear tattoo and your mother, bearing a dove tattoo, were horrified. Leviathan.
Edit. Wow thank you to everyone who submitted thie stories here. Never expected it to blow up this much. | It wasn't abnormal to hide your birth mark. Some were just embarrassing. Of course most people didn't hide them, it was a point of pride. My father, for example, never wore a sleeve covering his right arm. He showed it with pride, he was the pale bear of the townstead, always there to help out, the sheriff of the people. A legend in his youth, it's said that he once crushed a man's skull with his bare (bear?) hands. An evil man, with a red viper crawling up his face had tried to rob the general store. Well, not on my father's watch.
My mother, she was a little more conventional. The wee little dove on her collarbone demonstrated her compassion, her love and, well, her unique ability to calm a situation. A pacifist through and through my father would always call her. They were a perfect match, his hot - headedness always being diffused by her gentle nature.
But, ever since I was born, my birth mark had been covered. I'd been dressed in long sleeves since before I can remember. Every night I see it though. A cold blue serpent monster climbing up my left arm, wings sprawling over my back and a mouth filled with a thousand needles ending just on my shoulders. The coal that burned instead of eyes would glare at me, it's hideous hot smile baring those sickening teeth. The leviathan.
It was a monster. A daemon. Something from a nightmare. And yet it was a part of me. I could feel his power and hatred coursing through my veins, just as my father with his bear. It scared me. Well, it used to scare me. Until the day they came to my village.
A small army had come to claim my land for some foreign king. They had begun butchering the men, until my fathering came barrelling in, heavy fists crushing the foreign men beneath him. The town rallied behind him, fighting back these strange invaders. I watched, glued to to the horror. Death followed him to the centre, before a spear pierced his throat.
A scream ripped from my mouth, blood-curdling and sickening. The battle stopped and the invaders and townsfolk staggered back, staring at me. I felt the leviathan within me whisper. 'Kill them all,' he said. The power inside him seeped into me, slowly at first, but soon a storm raged inside me, an almost uncontrollable fury. I glanced into a nearby window and saw my face, a young girl with a hot smile spot welded to her lips, and eyes that glowed like coal. A howl escaped my lips and I let the storm go free.
Edit: Grammar and some spelling mistakes. Obligatory thanks for the gold kind stranger - it's my first one! :D. As a note to everyone who read this and liked this, thank you so much for the support. I've never posted any of my works any where before, and the fact that so many of you enjoyed it makes me incredibly grateful. I have read every comment and I'm so glad that I all of you enjoyed it. I don't know if a part two is coming (I didn't devote much thought to part 1 to be perfectly honest), but I promise I'll keep y'all posted. Also to answer your questions: No I don't have a subreddit, although if I can create another story that impacts people as much as this I will definitely create one. Again thanks to everyone for the kind words, and the love. :D | Of Mordecai, 5:9-17
**Thus Came The Serpent From The Waves**
^9 And the Dove lay thus, upon a stranger's bed. And from her eyes did stream tears of agony. For the birth had rendered itself difficult from its conception, the child come too soon, on a night two weeks removed from its rightful date. ^10 And so the Dove lay thus, upon a cold strangers bed, in such agony the Bear did oft hide his face, turning from the sight. And the agony did last through the swarthy night, and did only pass as the child came forth. ^11 But as the child was born unto the Bear and the Dove, another agony did present itself. For upon the babe, stark, cross its back, lay etched the mark of Leviathan.
^12 And seeing the mark, the wisemen and their aides, those that did help bring forth the child, retreated in horror. Casting aside their robes and alchemies, they did flee for fear they would be taken, as all would be taken, now that Leviathan hath come forth upon the world. And as the Bear held the babe, he did let forth an anguished cry, and the Dove hid her face. ^13 And even as her face was turned, she did beg the Bear to slay the child, for to allow it to live was to bring great suffering upon Man. And so the Bear, in a spirit of righteous sacrifice, raised against the child a blade cast aside by a wiseman.
^14 And as the Bear stretched his hand to slay the child, great rivers of blood poured forth from its wounds. And as the child's blood poured forth upon the Bear, the Bear was seared, and in great agony was struck down. And then from the mouth of the child issued sreechings, and wails far removed from the world of Man, and farther removed from the world of Angels. ^15 And the Dove, upon hearing the wails, was struck down, there upon the birthing bed.
^16 And so began the Turning of the Age, the wails of Leviathan multiplying amongst the hordes of Man and Angels. And they did fall, weak hearts failing in the majesty of the sanctity of Leviathan's cries. ^17 And so it came to be, Leviathan, reigning over the dead in holy solitude, forever and ever. Amen.
*Taken from "The Holy Scriptures of the Lord"*
| 2017-11-08T05:04:56 | 2017-11-08T04:45:53 | 8,969 | 195 |
[WP] It was a weapon so powerful that not even the most barbaric warmongering civilisation could stomach it. Just by building one, we struck terror in the hearts of many species. We weren't even planning on using it... | His gaze moved up slightly as an elegant figure, lithe and as pale as the moon, emerged from the hallway, their very form bearing an ethereal glow which enveloped the room in an unyielding embrace and cast a deep shadow in the furrow of his brow. His feet shuffled clumsily below the desk and his face twisted into a wry grimace as she began talking.
“Humanity stands but upon a precipice and the long night draws ever close. Even now, the demon Cu’sinthal executes his final device: the annihilation of the world. His mortal puppet Dmitri teeters on the edge of madness, cornered and desperate, his resolve weakening. The forces of democracy and justice, Dimitri’s perceived enemies, press on, intoxicated by success, and driven by an insatiable fervor.
She paused, took a few steps closer to him, and for the briefest of moments a flicker of concern poured across her face. At this point she glanced down, shoulders sagging, and was spent.
He adjusted himself on the chair, so as to face her directly, and mused on her words for a while. He stated plainly:
“I would have you continue Gabriel”
Suddenly invigorated, she resumed speaking with deliberate tones, full of wisdom and despair.
“The destruction of mankind will be absolute. Up here, in the Silver City, we will endure. Free to sing and dance while clutching to ignorance. Below our feet a calamity unfolds, and yet we remain indifferent to their suffering, our souls decaying into apathy with each stroke of the sword”
Stopping for breath, she deftly wiped a single tear away and then continued.
“Dimitri will soon commit to the unthinkable: unleashing a weapon of mass destruction upon his opponents. A global conflagration will follow. Encircling this earth with tendrils of destruction and tearing away all life. Nothing will remain. And as the sun sets on humanity Cu’sinthal’s insidious endeavors will triumph.”
He considered that for a moment.
“You would have me intervene, would you not? And yet, you know with certainty my position on matters involving earth.”
She interrupted him.
“No. I would not have you act directly. But rather through another, a being who can tip the scales towards posterity without absolving humanity from their culpability, an unseen mentor of sorts.”
“And you would volunteer yourself for this role.”
“I would.”
At that he got up from the chair and moved slowly and purposefully towards her. His hand found hers and without speaking they both walked silently out of the room.
They strolled for an epoch, and yet by a man’s watch only minutes passed, for such is the nature of heaven, where time and space are subservient to the holy powers will. Their long walk spanned a thousand dreams and they saw much: vibrant forests full of life and filled with otherworldly creatures; mountains as high as the eye could see; deserts bereft of life, and yet overflowing with an unnatural sand relentlessly making and unmaking itself into grand edifices winding into the long night.
He stopped suddenly, dropping Gabriel’s hand, and spoke quietly.
“I will indulge your request. You will be sent to earth to oppose the demon Cu’sinthal and bring balance. You will be forbidden from acting directly or unilaterally. Finally, I would have you return to the Silver City before sun’s rise on the twelfth night. If you transgress, I will forcibly extract you and your existence will be forfeit."
“I understand father.”
“It is settled then. I’ve set your translocation in motion. Go now and bring forth my justice child.” | Dear Newcomer,
The sight of the bodies never leaves you, their crumpled forms become all you can see every time you close your eyes. There isn't a moment you don't think of them, the images finding their way into every ordinary thought that you once possessed, worming their way into even the most mundane of your day-to-day activities. You tell yourself that the Fourth World War wouldn't have been won without it, that the world would have surely perished in the conflict, but that doesn't seem to matter. Slowly going insane, you run to every vice you can think of to escape the pain. Alcohol, drugs, sex. None of it provides relief, only a few hours where you can focus on something else before being reminded yet again of the cruelty of the human species.
I was there on the day they took control of the planet. Not in the stands, cheering on Bardric. No, I was on the ground, looking in strange wonder at the non-descript barracks made of strange shiny material that had somehow prevented me from joining the gruesome corpses that I just witnessed. It was that day that I asked myself why Bardric had broken his promise to never use the greatest weapon of mass destruction ever created, how could he ever be so sadistic?
It wasn't until later that I saw Bardric for who he really was, a narcissistic tyrant who would strangle his own wife for the sake of being in control, that I finally understood. Understood that I had been swindled by a con man who had promised us a world like our grandparents had known, when people freely prospered and violence was rare, but instead delivered the very opposite.
The scariest thing, friends, is that he could do it again. Next time it will be you and your family. All he needs to do is wait until the satellite is in the correct position, and with a few button presses, you'll be as disfigured as the corpses that I saw. That is why we must keep our communications in written form and sealed so that they're harder to trace, and why we must live separate from one another and amongst those he considers friends. Blending in is the best way to guarantee our success, for he wouldn't want to accidentally destroy those he likes, should the weapon be slightly off target.
Remember, the world bows to Bardric now. You are the only hope for the future of humanity. Conduct yourselves with care, and find opportunities to infiltrate his regime so that we can one day be free. I have faith that if we act diligently and with intelligence, we can someday be victorious.
Your Friend,
Milton Avorn | 2022-10-31T20:56:33 | 2022-10-31T19:33:10 | 46 | 24 |
[WP] You wake up in Hell. You look around, you can't see anybody, it's just fire and brimstone going on forever. Eventually the Devil walks over and says "Finally, you're the first to arrive, so tell me, who are you? what did you do? and how did you die?" | I decided to walk. The air was thin and dry, and it was hard to get a full breath. Of course, it was hot; I hadn't expected anything less.
I figured I'd get found eventually. So I decided to walk. In all honest, the place had a monstrous beauty about it. It was a sort of plain, relatively flat, as far as I could see. Lots of stalagmites, or mites, I could never remember which was which, were just barely visible above me. The pools of sulphur boiled and bubbled. Lava flows that looked like hills swept across the plain, some hard like mountains, some still moving.
"It's been long enough!" a voice called to me. Finally I could get to work. The thing approached. I couldn't quite pin down what the thing looked like; it was at one glance scaled, old and gnarled, and at the next tall, handsome and proud.
"It's been lonely, you know," the thing said, a cold interest in its eyes, "You're the first one to get here. Tell me, please, what did you do to deserve this? How did you die?"
I smiled, and replied: "I only lived to serve. As to how I died, it was nailed to a stake."
It stepped back. It knew. I continued.
"This isn't a Hell for men, you know. This place is to torture you." | I look at that son of a bitch right in the eyes and say "don't you remember? Georgia" he tried to think. "I took that bet and I ended up regretting it because you're the best there's ever been." He smirks and says "ohhhhh yesssss Johnny how have you been?" | 2015-04-09T07:50:33 | 2015-04-09T07:21:59 | 194 | 102 |
[WP] Exploring the attic of your dead grandmother's old house, you find 30 pieces of candy that when eaten, transports your conciousness to another, magical world (for 3 days in theirs and 3 minutes in ours). You find the love of your life in this world, but the candies are running out... | I never told her our time together was finite. Our love was real, and true, but we were from different worlds. Or universes? I never really understood. I only knew that when I ate one of the little blue candies from my late Grandma's small jeweled tin, I was transported to a world containing Sera. I only had one candy left. When the effects wore off, how would I ever see Sera again?
I had planned a beautiful last date together. Wine, a picnic overlooking our favorite lake, and our song playing. And my Grandmother's ring. I'm not even certain that engagement rings are a thing in Sera's world, but I wanted her to have something of me after I was gone. And of course I also brought her my notebook.
From the moment I returned after the first candy wore off, I kept a diary. All my hopes and dreams, all my history and plans. My best jokes and worst puns. My love for her. I wrote it all down. The notebook was over 4 inches thick now - really several notebooks bound together with string. And in it I explained the candy, the two worlds, and where to find me if ever she found a way to visit mine. This was my last chance. I made sure to leave nothing out. Just in case.
Our last date went perfectly. She cried happy tears when I gave her the ring. She said she would marry me! For that one shining moment, I pretended as hard as I could that this was real and I could stay forever. I kissed her one last time, and gave her the notebook. I never warned her that this would be the last time I saw her. I didn't want to ruin even a moment of our precious time. I got up to leave.
"Already?" she asked, glancing at her watch. "I hoped we could stay longer this time. especially since..." Her voice trailed off as she gazed at my grandmother's ring on her finger, the sapphire catching the light of the setting sun. "I know," I said, trying desperately to hold it together. "Until next time, please read the notebook. I love you!"
And with that I was back in my Grandmother's attic again. Alone, I allowed myself to break down. Not that I could have stopped it if I tried.
The next week passed in a haze of tears and depression. I barely slept or ate. I scoured the attic for the 50th time looking for more candies. The doorbell rang. I couldn't be asked to answer. It rang again, followed by an insistent knocking. Another annoying neighbor with a casserole? Whoever it was wouldn't go away. I stumbled to the door and opened it, prepared to grump at the rude person interrupting my grief. As I opened the door I saw was a hand. With a sapphire ring. The world went black.
I awoke on the floor. I had passed out. "Are you ok?" "Sera..." I muttered. Had I only imagined her? A fresh wave of grief washed over me.
"Yes." I sat bolt upright. There was Sera. Or at least someone who looked exactly like Sera. But dressed in clothing of this world. I reached out for her. She couldn't be MY Sera? She reached back. On her hand was Grandma's ring.
"How...?" I couldn't manage a more coherent question. My mind was muddled by grief and a lack of food or sleep. Sera pulled a small box out of her purse. She opened it. It was full of little blue wrappers, identical to the ones on the candies I had used to reach her.
"I never told you," she began. "I didn't want to spoil things. I thought you were from there. It never occurred to me we were BOTH just visiting." | I was never good at lying. That must have been why I was always honest.
"We must meet each other again," said the girl.
"Soon, my love," I replied, a smile on my face. "Very soon."
They shared a kiss. A prolonged kiss. Their hands connected and intertwined. Even after she's gone, her warmth remained in his palms. Even after he's back, he can still see her beautiful, wondrous, fantastic face. Her amazing aroma hung in the air. Her morbid mark on his lips...
It was a dream. A fleeting moment, a brief period of time, and a fantasy only I know and no one will believe in. It only took a day, but if felt like a year. Each passing hour chained onto the next without my knowing. Soon, I'm alone.
"What do you want to do?" asked the boy.
"Spend more time with you," answered the girl.
Hand-in-hand, stride by stride, they made their way towards their home. There, the couple had everything they needed. Each other.
I resumed my daily life afterwards. Only a day has passed, but I missed a lot of my responsibilities. I went to work, ate and rested, paid my bills, and dropped to my bed. Just another day. Uneventful, and with no one waiting for me once I got back.
"Why do you love me?" asked the boy.
"Because you are honest," answered the girl.
It was not a unique trait to be truthful. Yet it was uncommon that such an eccentric girl found it sufficient of her love. Perhaps, in her perspective, it was more than enough.
Today was a nuisance. I had to go to my grandmother's house. I never liked her. She had strict rules whenever I stayed and she always catches me breaking her rules. She's quite fond of my name. Probably because she forced my parents to give it to me. I went to the attic and saw these candies...
"Why do you love me?" asked the girl.
".. Because it's not unrequited," answered the boy.
They travelled far and wide, taking a glimpse of every attraction that catches their eyes. But their gaze lingered most on each other.
I was never a good liar. Even at our final moments, I never made a good lie. Her mark, her face, her aroma, her tears... All lingered in my memory. I'm sorry. I wasn't good enough. Nor was I strong enough. But... I do have an apology gift...
".. How did you know my name?" asked the boy.
The girl smiled her widest smile. "A prophecy," she answered. "From my ancestors. Saying you're the one."
The couple only first met, but they knew that there's something more to this meeting.
Sorry for the crappy writing. | 2019-05-01T10:07:14 | 2019-05-01T06:20:29 | 84 | 12 |
[WP] You're pretty sure that the gas station you work at is a hotspot for eldritch beings beyond mortal understanding but this job doesn't pay enough for you to care. Also they are more polite than your average customer. | A rusty cowbell clanged against the doorframe as someone entered. I was shuffling through brand name cigarette cartons, wondering why it mattered if they were in alphabetical order. Anyone buying a carton already knows what brand they want. By the time I stood back up, there was no new customer. The only person in the store was the same old woman playing the digital slot machines in the back corner. Soft melodies of spinning cherries played every time she cranked the level.
I tried to look out the windows between the cracks of beer and tobacco advertisements where a few men were huddled together, sharing a drink in a paper bag. They were there as often as the old woman at the slot machine, though I'd never seen them speak... or acknowledge each other at all. I'd honestly never seen them come. They were always here when I got to work.
A buzzer went off on the slot machine and a handful of coins dropped out. I looked over in its direction, but the woman was missing. A shame she stepped away after finally winning. The coins kept falling. Luckily, there was no one else in the store to steal her prize. The cowbell clanged against the door again.
"Thank you, dear," the woman said to me. I jerked back, nearly falling against the stack of cigarette cartons I'd just stacked. She was smiling with all her teeth.
"You're welcome," it almost came out as a question. "I think you left some coins in the machine."
"I never play for myself," her smile seemed to grow larger. "Someone else will need those coins far more than me."
Her body turned to leave, but her smile remained fixed on my struggled attempt at a reciprocal grin. Her footsteps were silent on the floor.
"Have a nice day," the door opened, letting hot air in. Her smile persisted until the door closed. I tried to watch her go through the cracks in the window advertisements, but it strained my eyes. The men outside appeared to look over at her for a moment and one broke off to approach her. More coins dropped from the slot machine, drawing my eye. I was alone in the gas station with an hour left on shift.
Coins began to fall from the slot machine onto the floor. I grabbed the keys to go reset it. As I reached the back of the store, the cowbell clanged against the doorframe. I looked over the aisles of junk food to a still-empty store. As I returned to the machine, I noticed the coins were covered in a black film. I contorted my body around them to reach the reset switch with my key. The coins stopped and the machine went dark.
"Why'd you do that?" a boy asked one aisle over. I couldn't see him.
"Do what?"
"Turn it off. Mother worked hard on that all day to feed our family. Turn it back on."
"The coins are still out. You can grab them," I began to walk back towards my counter. "Besides, now that I've turned it off, the machine will have reset."
"He will want more," the boy's voice sounded further away. "He will not rest until he has more, please, sir."
"Who?"
The men outside were looking inside, their eyes a swirl of galactic colors that would have been hypnotizing if I couldn't see my shift relief pulling in. Their cosmic stares followed me back to the counter. Their hands leaving ice crystals on the glass.
The cowbell clanged against the door. My relief.
"Thank goodness," I said.
"Anything interesting to pass on?"
"No. The slot machine just got reset in case anyone asks. Should take a couple minutes to reboot. That's about it, though."
"Alright. Have a good night."
"You do the same." I slid out from behind the counter. The cowbell was silent as I left. | Monday
Mr. Jackson a man of indusernable age bought a lotto ticket, but he won. Well of course he won you would say. Everyone wins eventually at least that's what the company's tells you. Evrey single ticket run by my store can't win more then ten dollars. I know because I write the tickets myself it one of my tasks. The ticket in question are 1$ and 1 in 10 win a free ticket 1 in 50 win a dollar and 1 in 200 wins 10$, and the ticket read win up to 100$.Mr. Jackson however won 100$. I mean that's impossible. They literally can't win that amount yet he scratched it off and I had to pay him.
Tuesday
A young woman walked in today. She was well dressed and never met eyes with me. As she was trying on sun-glasses her image caught my eye there was nothing human about her in that mirror nothing at all. She bought the glasses and left
Wensday
Chrismas eve an hour before the gass station would close it was quite and boring. I had not had a customer in two hours. Suddenly have all the cameras shut down and a customer walk out of the bathroom. Exept the there was never had been bathroom in a place as small as this had there? When had it been expanded. The customers walked out with a friendly sort of wave.
Thursday
There were a lot of people here today. Lots off bustle with me just ringing up items and asking "cash or card?"
When as if on queue all the people stopped and faced the bathroom a male child walked out. They all bowed. They bowed! Then they turned towards me u gad no idea what to do so I bowed,and they continued on as if nothing at all happened
Friday
last day on my shift this week, although now that I think about it the gass station only seems to be open on days I work. It's always abandoned as I walk by. The strangest thing yet happend today. The power went out it was bound to happen eventually that's not what was strange. What was Strang e was that when it did an old man looked up frowned and said "Now Tranzthit you said one day in sunlight and I haven't even mad it outside yet." The light seemed to come on reluctantly as If they actually could delay themselves that's not how a switch works. Is it how a switch works?
Saturday
I don't have to worry about the gass station today. It has been the best part time job I've ever found. 20$ an hour to manage a small gass station that was closed on the weekend. Of course the customers could be odd, but they were mutch kinder than anyone else I'd ever encountered in customer service. I loved my job. | 2021-12-13T21:37:57 | 2021-12-13T20:52:47 | 66 | 16 |
[WP] We are all born with a tattoo on our wrist, it reads the first sentence spoken to you by your soulmate. Your sentence: "Hey!" | It was so generic. Too generic.
I realized pretty early in life that I had to do the opposite. Upon meeting anyone new, I tried to blurt out a new random factoid. I would have gone with stock advice, but the SEC had long ago considered that insider trading.
"Hey!", she said, trying to get my attention after leaving my coffee.
"Mark Hamill used to obsessively tape and catalog every Late Night with David Letterman episode."
What then followed was always one of three things.
1. Confusion, followed by me trying to explain myself.
2. Confusion, followed by them being interested in the factoid and carrying a short conversation around it.
3. Confusion, followed by them saying something along the lines of "Ah, a fellow redditor!"
But not today.
The woman opened her eyes in disbelief. She smiled, and started running towards me. She embraced me, checked my wrist, and kissed my cheek.
"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to meet you!"
She rolled up her sleeve to reveal my Mark Hamill factoid.
"I can't believe that worked!" I said almost in a state of disbelief.
"I think I get it." She said. "You had such a useless identifier, you sought to make sure I had one that could never be misconstrued."
Now I was a bit bashful. I never really gave much thought of all the more risque and possibly embarrassing sentences that could have ended up on her wrist. She had to live all these years with such an obscure reference...
"But I have to say, it gave me direction!" She said.
"Sorry? I don't follow" I uttered taken aback.
"I figured you had to be some sort of Mark Hamill fan, so I followed everything he did with interest. 'Star Wars' and 'Batman: The Animated Series' became my favorites. I attended conventions and such, but no one ever said it."
I blurted out "Oh, so what your saying is that you might be an even bigger geek than me?"
"Probably." She said with confidence. "Come on. Lets go somewhere. I know a great little bookstore with a fantastic graphic novel section." | (Got a short one here)
He scratched his wrist nervously, not because his soulmates first word to him would be Hey! Simply because he was never good at social gatherings and this gaming convention was a very social event.
He picked up his props and squeezed his way through the crowd, the green fabric of his cosplay costume rubbing against all the others around him.
He hoped that today would be the day he met his soulmate, but so many people had spoken the words in passing, he had no clue if she had already passed him by.
It was nearing the halfway point of the day and he had given up hope of finding his soulmate here.
Then a cute voice sounded from behind him
"Hey!"
He whipped around and saw the woman of his dreams. Quickly replying "listen!"
It's been three years since then.
They have been married for two years and their first child is on the way.
The child's room is already set up.
A bed, bookshelf, and a game console, already loaded up with the legend of Zelda. So they can know how their parents met. | 2017-01-09T06:57:31 | 2017-01-09T04:05:28 | 210 | 43 |
[WP] You died. Then you woke up in The Station and Death told you to board The Train that will take you onwards. Then you got ran over by The Train. You’re now in a diner sitting across from a pale woman, who asks you “How in the fuck did you get in here?”
Have at it. | I've always been what some would call a klutz. It seems like any time I try to do anything, I trip, slip, fall, drop or break something, or, best of all, injure myself. My klutzy habits ended up being the death of me: I tripped and fell down my stairs and whacked my head on the stone floor of my foyer. It seemed like a good idea when I got it, okay!? When I finally woke up, I was in an immaculate, all white train station. A tall man in a black cloak with a scythe in his hand stood across from me.
"Who are you?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"I am Death. You have perished and must go onwards," he answered in a deep, echoing voice.
"Onwards...?" I asked. Death pointed a skeletal finger. As if on cue, an old-fashioned steam train emerged from the light. Not gonna lie, it was a really cool looking train. I'd only ever seen ones like that in black-and-white photos or movies. I had to get a closer look. Of course, when I stepped forward, I tripped onto the track. I barely had time to process what was happening before the train slammed into me.
\*\*\*
I blinked and jolted. What happened? I looked around at my surroundings. I appeared to be in one of those retro diners, although it was empty. Was that possible? Hadn't I just died? And then gotten run over by a train?
"How in the fuck did you get here?" someone asked. I jumped and looked across from me. Sitting on the other side of the booth table was a pale, thin woman about my age in a sleeveless black turtleneck. Her light blue eyes examined me skeptically. She didn’t look especially threatening, but there was something unsettling about her.
“Um...I’m not exactly sure,” I admitted. She sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Well, what happened to you before you got here?”
“I died. And then got hit by a train,” I explained. She cocked her head.
“So you don’t know about us?” she asked.
“About...who?”
“The people here. We all did what it took to avoid going to the afterlife. I died with my switchblade, so I slit my wrists,” she said rather proudly.
“Um...what other people?” I asked, looking around. The diner was still empty. She waved a hand dismissively.
“The others aren’t here right now. We tend to wander. Today, I happened to get the pleasure of waiting around for newbies,” she said. She half-smiled. “Anyway, congratulations. You’ve officially cheated death.”
“Oh. What now?”
“The others will get here soon enough. We’ll decide that then.”
**If you liked this, there's more on** r/JustRandomness**!** | Surprisingly, it didn't hurt as much as it did when I was alive.
&#x200B;
All I wanted was nothingness, but even that was not granted to me. It left me with no choice but to try it again, and again, and again, and again. Every time I jump, I wake up with on the bench in the Station of Onwardness again. The attendant there must have be some kind of NPC, because he always gave me the same dance and speech about the mechanism of the station la di da. It got old very quickly. Now every time I wake up, the first thing I do was to go over to the poor sod, approach him from the back, and knock him out with a brick that was faithfully awaiting me by the bench every reset.
And then, I woke up, on the soft newly shampooed carpet floor that was gently swaying."How in the fuck did you get in here?"
I looked up and saw a pair of shoes, legs and skirt. That jolted me right up, I lifeless, but I'm still not bereft of decency. Oh fuck, this is the diner of the train, isn't it? How the fuck did I quantum tunnel in here? Shit.
The lady stood before me had a clip board in her hand. She was impeccable presented, with "no-nonsenseness" seeping out of every single pore."Wow, 65,536 times? Impressive, that must be how you broke the system. "Seeing the confusion in my eyes, she continued:"I'm the admin. People don't get to see me much, but I suppose you deserve this rare exception. Now, how may I help you today, my little bug?"
(obligatory English second language and I'm lingually retarded. ) | 2021-03-26T07:28:09 | 2021-03-26T07:03:44 | 207 | 121 |
[WP] You, a low level minion, was accidentally transported to a secret endgame dungeon. The monsters there think you’re cute and begin to train you before sending you home. | Their comments grated every single day.
It was bad enough at home, but here, they didn't even try to hide how they saw me.
Any attack I threw out was just seen as a tantrum. Flailing.
The worst was the babytalk. Like I wasn't a fully grown adult. Like I needed them to speak slowly and high-pitched.
The gate was technically open, but they always caught me before I managed to get back. They were so "worried". They said the portal was too painful for me going back the other way.
I felt the back of my neck bristle. Felt my pride boil and seethe. And then...
It just felt empty.
A clear way out, but no way home. And who's to say they wouldn't just grab me and drag back their "Cutesy Little Pet" if I DID manage to get away.
I traced the walls of my "room". My cell, or more accurately, my cage. I felt inside for the stream of magic, the magic I'd used to be one of the most feared wizards of Tutor Real Village. It felt... lacking.
I saw the chaos these demons could wield. Just them summoning food for me each day used more magic than I'd ever seen before.
But that was part of it. Part of what I saw. They used too much. They were sloppy with their power. Wasteful. I asked one of the kinder minions for a journal. Something to write. He did in exchange for allowing him to pet my hair for an hour. He said it calmed him.
After that, I started to write down the spells they used. Saw the edges of them. I realized I'd never have their level of power. But what if I could combine their spells? What if I could alter them? A single punch could be deadly, but so could a thousand tiny cuts.
It was my only hope.
I can't stay like this forever.
I heard a bell, and my mind instantly jumped to din-din. I shoved my journal back into hiding. As I ate the demon mussed my hair. I swore inside my heart I'd get out.
One way or another. | "Look. He is sleeping!"
"He worked so hard today, no surprise he is tired."
"He is doing it well! I've never been so proud of someone's progresses as I am now!"
All the monsters gathered around that little figure asleep in the cave. It was clear he was getting stronger each day that passed. But his face was cute like the first time he entered. Still with that innocent smile.
"How long has he been with us?"
"It will be 2 month tomorrow. "
"Why don't we bake a cake to celebrate?"
"What a stupid idea!"
"But he loves cakes!"
"Aw, thats cute!"
"Maybe we can try. We have insects to do flour, worms for decorations, the lava for cooking.... we can do something yes ..."
"I only hope he will still have his cuteness even if he gets stronger."
"Yeah, can you immagine how powerfull a cute killing machine can be? No hero would expect that!"
One of the monsters gently covered the small minion with a big furry blanket.
"Let's leave. I don't want him to wake up. Goodnight little one. We are proud of you." | 2022-08-18T06:13:00 | 2022-08-18T02:52:09 | 218 | 149 |
[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. | They say there are seven deadly sins. That's a bunch of bullshit. It's just propaganda. The lies they feed us to keep us all in a nice neat well-behaved huddled mass. Leave it to the Christians to believe the new blood everyone is born with is a test from their God. Maybe it is, I don't know. I've never believed in that hocus pocus bullshit. But something happened, maybe it was a God who did it. Its worldwide now with no cure in the pipeline so it's doubtful it was a government. No terrorists ever took credit. Maybe a mad scientist somewhere thought it would make the world a better place. It didn't.
Some of those seven deadly sins don't even register in the blood yet other little offenses do. It seems to depend on the person. Studies haven't been able to find much consistency person to person. One thing has been agreed on though, once you go black you never go back.
I know I know, it's stupid. An old punchline people started using again but for whatever dumb reason it stuck. You get the idea though, bad deeds darken and thicken your blood bit good deeds don't reverse it. So much for the karma theory.
Whether it was God or a mad scientist who did it they clearly underestimated the human condition. It didn't make things better, it didn't really make things worse either just inconvenient. Like I mentioned before good deeds don't reverse the bad blood. But new blood does.
Those who can afford it, and need it, get blood transfusions as often as required. Which of course means those who need the money and have sufficient purity get paid for our blood. Blood banks are now privately owned and more plentiful than Starbucks. People who are wealthy enough even have their own private donors. They are called bloodboys, this is where I come in. Bloodboys are usually housed, fed and paid a handsome sum to be drawn on once a week or so. The sponsor dumps a pint of his blood and injects the bloodboys' in hopes of slowly purifying his own body in theory. In reality it's more of an attempt to stabilize the current level off corruption.
I've always had grade A pure blood. It isn't because of my desperation to remain such or some phony religious devotion. It's just how I was raised. My dad always taught me to be good to other people, always be friendly and courteous. Its simply the human thing to do. Be happy with what you have but share it freely and the most valuable gifts are trust and time.
Today I find out with a small prick of my finger and a small bead of black that someone has abused my trust and stolen all of my time. Things I would have given freely if they had but asked. I have been robbed blind of everything I value. But now with my blood and black as night, thick as tar and no way back there would be consequences. I knew just where to start. | At that moment, I was happy. I bring my pricked finger to my supple lips, and my tongue caresses the wound with warm tenderness.
Sweet. Like a strawberry lollipop.
It started off as one good deed a day. Picking up trash, volunteering at the senior home, removing hate graffiti, giving some water to construction workers. Mundane tasks.
*"Thank you for picking up garbage Sara. I want to be good like you when I grow up!"*
*"Here again at the senior home? Someone like you should be enjoying their youth and leave old bags like us to our devices! ....But I do appreciate the sentiment."*
*"I see you've been the one helping me get rid of these garbage nazi symbols. What say we make some wholesome graffiti art together one day?*
*"Thanks again for the water Sara! We really appreciate it! Couldn't do our work without ya."*
I wouldn't get complimented every time though. Only when someone notices. That moment when all the hard work you've done is recognized, after countless hours, days, weeks, months, years... The buildup to that climactic "Thank You" is pure ecstasy.
Soon, it wasn't enough. I had to do more. Help more people. So I started helping out at the local hospital. I went to college and became a registered nurse. I double majored in writing, wrote children's books, and held free read aloud sessions at my local library. I adopted a child, two stray dogs, and a cat.
All of it just to witness their smiling faces as their words of praise and gratitude flow out like Mozart. Like a warm blanket tucked tightly around me, outlining the contours of my body.
This is who I am. This blood is the symbol of my lust, and I'll brew it until it turns to ruby.
| 2018-08-04T10:28:00 | 2018-08-04T10:18:07 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] A sentient race was discovered on a blue planet in the Sol system. The system was put under protection to prevent tampering with or stunting the growth of the civilization that was to come. One day, a team is sent to check on their progress. But something's wrong. The Martian's are dead.
EDIT: Is no one writing stories because I said Martian's? | "This is Rebraxas-Alpha-Niner-Esio, reporting in from the Eskimo on Sol IV, over." The Sigardan Interconnected Interface's quantum transceiver sent back to Sigard Centauri VI Mission Control.
The SII tinkled, before passing the message from Home onwards to KSint Hellsing. "This is Home. Confirm sightings of non-native structures on Sol IV? Also, query - indigenous peoples?" Hellsing lounged back as the anti-gravs did their work, placing them in geosynchronous orbit above their original site from fifteen generations ago.
The planet was a desolate landscape. Hellsing looked through her visor and screen, horror drifting its way upwards through her insides. "This is Rebraxas-Alpha-Niner-Esio. Confirm landscape decimated. Taking images now. No life-sign - not even Worms. Readings show catastrophic fallout-reaction leading to atmospheric discharge, possible atmos-nova. Awaiting urther readings from Eskimo site. Over."
The SII chimed a confirmation message, and then tinkled at an incoming message...but off-entanglement. *How-?* she thought to herself. There was only that earlycolony over on...
**Sol II**.
The implications were massive. Both for the Sigardans, as the peacekeeping initiative of the UGN, and for the beliefs regarding life. She pressed the 'Sync' button on her entanglement module. "Yes?" she spoke, hesitant. She would find out for certain if these things were responsible, and if they were, ensure the planetary destruction in accordance with Section 51 (Classified) Elimination of Species Act of the 22nd Bloodnakt Conseillary. What came through astounded her even more.
"This is Director Henshaw of the Global Astronautic Association." Hellsing realised that *her* language and the language spoken to her were remarkably similar. "We've been sending missions to Mars for the last 40 years, trying to find out what happened to cause such devastation on Mars, and to see if it was possible to colonize it. May I ask who I'm speaking to here? We didn't have any missions planned after Ares Seventeen, three years ago."
Hellsing's SII had triangulated the signal to a location on the supposedly 'dead' planet Sol III. Her life was about to change forever.
"My name is Cradaul Hellsing. I am a member of an intergalactic peacekeeping force. I need to put you on hold whilst I contact Home, as we were expecting...someone else."
She transmittedthe contact, including timestamps and upstates. "This is Rebraxas on code GAMMA OMEGA ACTUAL. Need guidance in accordance with Section 4 First Contact protocol, and assessment of Sol IV data. Over." | Todd and Joe, the exploration team sent to check on Planet X of Sector Nebulon, stood before the emptiness of space dotted with bits of debris from a once existing planet. Fear consumed them. They have never seen such chaos and destruction in their lives. They both glance at each other to communicate their distress then continued to stare at the wreckage of Planet X.
Was it natural or did an outsider come in? Regardless, it is gone, and nothing could be done to revive an entire civilization that has been wiped from the plane of existence. The dead do not speak. And any clues of what had happened were most likely destroyed in what seemed to be from an enormous explosion. With nothing more the two could do but mourn for the deceased, Todd and Joe return to make their reports back at the station.
As they left; however, a pair of eyes glow crimson red among the wreckage. A large grumble resounded throughout the solar system that could be heard even within the space pod Todd and Joe were flying in. The two look at each other and quicken their pace to leave immediately. They certainly did not want to fight with demons capable of destroying planets. They successfully escaped never knowing what exactly happened to which they were grateful.
At Planet X's location, large construction crafts fly out to harvest the valuable minerals among the debris. Green monsters with fur and claws being exiting their ships. They greedily look towards a nearby planet of green and blue, but they know it is not time yet. The planet is not yet ripe. The monsters lick their lips in anticipation for the day that they can conquer and harvest the green and blue planet's resources. The shattered pieces of Planet X form a ring around the local star forming what is now known as the asteroid belt.
It is a race against time. Earth, the blue and green planet that the monsters desire, must continually evolve and advance until they are capable of protecting against the oncoming onslaught.
"But it is time," shouts a large green monster covered in deep scars across his body, "Time to die." | 2017-03-27T01:28:59 | 2017-03-26T21:18:26 | 70 | 17 |
[WP] In your world evolution is sped up by a million times so people gain and lose abilities according to their day to day work. Fishermen become deaf, firefighters gain another layer of skin etc. Your experiences as a will-do-anything-as work labourer sure are interesting. | I slammed the table at the WWW Cafe as my home page struggled to load. I looked up and noticed that the servo next to me had me in his scanners, probably checking out my various social media profiles in that instant.
"If only I had become a servo" I thought restlessly. The servos, or server-humanoids as they were properly called, were always in high demand and well-compensated, not to mention the sweet evo perks and bonuses they got as part of their jobs. Anyone who worked with computers got all of the perks of the Internet, the endgame being immortalization as a digital consciousness.
"But here I am just struggling to not be put on a reserve" I thought, thinking of my various high school acquaintances that had been left unemployed, crushed by the corporate meat grinder that the world had become since the Quickening. If you're unemployed too long, you become an impulsive creature, evolving toward whatever animal best suited their impulses. Since we were year of the Monkey, the majority of my friends became apes of various sorts. But there was Jeff who became a sloth out of laziness.
"No fucking way I'm becoming a sloth" I thought, as my home page finally loaded and I was able to punch in a job search.
As the page loaded, an IM popped up in the corner. I opened it.
**Need some help?**
I looked up. The servo was still scanning me. It nodded.
I was weirded out. What could it want? This must be some sort of trick. I replied anyway.
**No. I'm just looking for a job, probably not something you could help me with.**
My search finally loaded. Then another window popped up. "Damn popups" I thought as I went to close it. Then another page loaded, and another. I paused. Then some sort of code appeared on the screen. The activity was happening so quickly I just stopped and stared. This went on for another minute until just one window was open. Another IM.
**You should apply for this job.**
I looked closely at the page, any reservations squashed by my curiosity. The title said "UNERC" and underneath expanded to "United Nations Evolution Research Council." Beside job description, it said "Experimentee."
My thoughts whirled. I'd never heard of this UNERC before. And experimentee? They'd be doing tests on me? What evo perks would I get from that? How do you evolve when you're having evolution tests run on you?
I sat back. Obviously Mr. Servo Creepo was still looking at me. It nodded. It didn't take long for me to sit back down and enter in my information and send my resume. After all, what did I have to lose? | I look down at the thick skin that had developed on the palms of my hands, as thick and tough and dark as leather. I was a welder by trade, and though I had previously had poor eyesight at any time of day, I found that, once I entered the workforce in earnest, my night vision had developed significantly over a very short period of time. I was able to see clearly on a starless night, or deep down in a mine with my partner; my spotter, spare equipment carrier, and a source of eternal optimism to counteract my cynical insistence that, even though my body had long since adapted to working in mines, repairing equipment, reinforcing the steel girders with backing plates of a thick, titanium alloy, this shit would kill me eventually.
I was able to stand being surrounded by up to 60% reduced atmospheric oxygen(Argon in particular displaced oxygen readily, and in a mine, pockets of natural gas would slowly seep into the mineshafts and had, in the past, been the main source of mining-related deaths due to impaired functions of the body in low oxygen environments.) and had even found that I had developed the ability to slow my own breathing down dramatically without any adverse effects.
It was useful, certainly, though I looked not unlike a living, walking mass of scar tissue.
Good thing I never liked people much anyway, and my partner never seemed to mind my calloused skin, reduced sensitivity, and somehow didn’t even mind my hyper-photosensitive, bugged out eyes, though they couldn’t say much, either, as they had many of the same developments I did, even though they weren’t a welder. | 2021-08-12T09:49:07 | 2021-08-12T08:58:43 | 45 | 12 |
[WP] A person awakes from a coma to find the world has become a Utopia. They've read enough literature to believe there must be something wrong with it. There isn't. | John squinted at the brightness. The sting of antiseptic reached his nostrils and the world slowly came into focus.
“How do you feel, Mr. Doe?” A beautiful young doctor came in to view, concern etched across her face. She was flanked by an older man with a clipboard, white hair and beard framing his face. He peered over top of the glasses on his nose at John, a satisfied smile appearing.
“I believe he is feeling just fine, Dr. Halsey.”
John found his voice. “Where am I? and who are you?”
“Mr. Doe, we are your caretakers. My name is Dr. Crawford. You’ve been asleep for quite some time. It took especial care to wake you up, one hundred years later than planned, in fact. We’ve been able to keep your body stable; however, you may be experiencing a great deal of memory loss from that much inactivity.”
John shook his head, trying to clear away imaginary cobwebs and think clearly. The only thing he remembered… his hand went quickly to his chest. The dog tags were still there, cool against his skin.
“Yes, Mr. Doe, you were a soldier. You participated in the war to end all wars. This time, we were successful. I am afraid that it was so atrocious, so horrifying, that we finally fight no more.”
Dr. Halsey leaned in close and spoke warmly, the smile reaching her eyes. “It’s over John. Everything is right now.”
It took hours to learn how different the world was. In those hours, John learned to walk again. It would have taken years in his own lifetime. He kept the last name Doe because his own was marred by the bullet hole in his dog tags, a reminder of the injury that put him under in the first place.
It took days for John to travel, free of charge, to the wonders he longed to see while trapped in that bloody trench. It would have taken decades in his own lifetime.
On each return trip, he met with Elizabeth Halsey and talked about his recovery, and the world he was now born into. She was sweet, and a friendship blossomed, but something was missing.
John knew that the truth of the matter was that no utopia was perfect. If it was, there would be no story, no tension, no struggle. True utopias aren’t written about. They are post-climax. There is no catastrophe, and thus no narrative. Being a non-native to the utopia, it took John a few weeks to realize just what was wrong.
He made an appointment with Dr. Crawford.
“John, how are you enjoying your adjustment?”
“That’s just it, doc. I figured out what’s not working. It’s me.”
“Oh?” The glasses came off and the first truly disturbed look John had seen on an enlightened face rested on Dr. Crawford.
“Yeah, see, you were right. The world really was perfect on the day I woke up. But I wasn’t. I’m a relic of a time long overdue for change. I fought in that war because I knew that. But I think I also knew I wasn’t fighting to save it for myself. I got lucky waking up and getting to see it all pay off, and I’m grateful, but I don’t belong here. It’s like having a leftover piece to a puzzle. When you try to put it all together, it’s so much more frustrating because it doesn’t fit.”
Crawford look confused. He really didn’t know what that was like.
John sighed. “See, now there’s a problem. And the problem with the world is me.”
Silence.
“Put me back under, doc. It’s what I want.”
Two hours later, he was back in the familiar bed. Dr. Crawford tapped the sedative and injected it into the IV bag.
“Hey, doc, tell Elizabeth I’m sorry?”
“Sure thing, son.”
John drifted to sleep. | "So... there's no underhanded tactics at play here?" I asked, amazed at what I'd just heard.
The doctor stared at me quizzically, bemused by my odd question. "Er... no Mr. Gordon. It's just as I said - the world is finally at peace. There are no wars, disputes, petty squabbles... nothing of the sort."
My face held an expression of absolute bewilderment. "What about racism, sexism, fascism... and all the other isms?" After all, there must be some form of hatred in the world.
This time, the doctor had a warm smile on his face. "It's just as I told you Mr. Gordon... no more petty squabbles."
*No more petty squabbles.*
Was that really possible? Had humanity evolved to such an extent in the past ten years that the perfect Utopia had finally been created? A bunch of doubts raced through my mind, but it was the simplest - and at the same time, the most complex - question that escaped my lips.
"*How?*"
The doctor took a deep breath. Clearly the answer to that question wasn't as straightforward as I'd hoped it'd be. "If I tried to explain everything it would take days. Let's just put it like this - humanity's flaws have been eradicated. Sustainable development is in full force, and our once dying planet is slowly recovering from their past transgressions."
I breathed a sigh of relief... before comprehending the meaning behind the doctor's words. I tried to get a word in, but the doctor continued with his explanation before I could speak my mind.
"The future is bright now, after a long time." A wry smile formed on the doctor's face as he continued talking. "Your people have been a thorn in the planet's side for far too long, and we were created for the sole purpose of removing these... *parasites* from the face of the earth."
I tried to move, but my muscles hadn't been used in over a decade and I fell to the floor. My body refused to obey me, and I stared in abject fear as the doctor walked slowly towards my limp self.
"And now, humanity has been completely wiped out." The doctor straightened its arm, and I looked on in horror as a sharp, thin blade extended from the android's wrist.
"Well... *almost* wiped out."
I gasped as the doctor shoved the blade into my chest. My hands clutched the bleeding wound as I gasped for breath - but the hole in my lungs wouldn't let me. The floor around me was colored in a rich shade of crimson as I breathed my last.
------
Hi! If you liked this story and want to read more tales like this, please consider subscribing to my new subreddit, r/Ritwik_Mitra!
EDIT: Altered a stupidly worded sentence. | 2017-03-17T13:05:48 | 2017-03-17T11:37:45 | 263 | 42 |
[WP] An important press conference, with rows of cameras pointed at you. Dozens of journalists wait with bated breath, until finally you mutter, "no comment" into your microphone. The room explodes with excitement. One of them yells, "this is going to be front page news across the planet!" | I adjusted my turtleneck anxiously. I'd never really been fond of them; itchy, pretentious outerwear, conjuring up images of Apple advertisements more than chilly, playful winter days. Much less comfortable was I wearing one indoors, but the occasion certainly called for it.
I sat down at the table, my attorney on my right hand, the hospital's chief of operations on my left. I scratched under the turtleneck again, careful not to turn it downward, and awkwardly I finally relieved the itch.
There had been enormous buzz already. Biotechnology stocks soared in anticipation. Paper and magazine editors were already sifting through copy, bylines, and captions, ready to spring the momentous finding. All of our advances heretofore in plastic surgery, in vitro tissue growth, 3D printing, nanoacoustics... they had all led to this moment. And I was finally going to break the news like no one else could.
The cameras all peered into my face, but I was most acutely aware of the microphones. I had learned so much about them, about sound quality, amplification, acoustics, recording and playback, even the human respiratory system in the past few months. There were thousands of dollars of audio equipment in front of me. Certainly the finest each and every studio, broadcaster, and blogger had to bring. And the moment had come.
"Sir! Sir! How do you feel about the outcome of the surgery?"
Truth be told, I felt ecstatic. For the first time in years since the accident, I could hear my own voice. The reconstruction, a mixture of artificial bioelectrical and laboratory grown biological parts, had been formulated exactly to mimic the known recordings of my voice, and tuned tediously to give the most realistic and precise feedback. Not only could I talk, but I could project my voice like never before, and sing with enormous volume and operatic precision. It was me, it sounded like me, but I was crisper, clearer, and more beautifully spoken than ever before.
I had prepared a speech for just this occasion, but as I briefly admired my own eloquence, ironically it slipped through the sieve of my memory. And so, at a loss for words, I decided smugly to play it coy.
"No comment." | I could hear a pin drop if every pin in the room was not too busy holding its breath.
All the journalists are pointing their microphones at me. I feel like I'm the pope and they want me to bless their babies. Except I sure don't feel holy and serene right now.
*This is when I deny everything.* I think.
But I don't. It seems like I'm unable to pronounce one word. And each damn second increases the tension in the room. Each damn second decreases the plausibility of any denial I could make.
I open my mouth. I close it. Nothing wants to come out.
I'm tired. I'm so bloody tired. Alfred is going to kill me.
-No comment.
My voice is tired and creaky. But it doesn't matter as the room explodes. Every journalist turns back to face their camera and they're all speaking fast and loudly.
-This is going to be front page news across the planet! I hear.
It sure will, pal, it sure will. I feel numbed. I let my eyes wander and they fall on yesterday's newspaper on the table in front of me.
*Wayne Enterprises' accountant claims its billionaire shareholder Bruce Wayne is the Batman and brings evidence.*
I sigh. I'm Bruce Wayne.
And I'm Batman. | 2015-11-05T09:27:38 | 2015-11-05T09:09:15 | 106 | 40 |
[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. | \[- the Kuiper Transmission has confirmed a lack of any signals since first contact, and the United Fleetworks are now in proceedings to declare the Rio Grande Voyage lost with all hands. We would like to observe the names and faces of the voyagers who sailed out into the stars, on a mission of optimism and peace which shall not be-\]
“Mute the feed.”
Chief Voyager Jennings sunk back in his harness as the screen continued to play, silently; every one of those names and faces scrolled past his unseeing gaze, replaced in mind by the people of his own fleet.
First contact had failed. Again.
Once, the galaxy had been compared to a dark forest filled with mystery and terror. Where were the aliens? Hiding from all the other aliens. The reason we hadn’t noticed any was because they were deliberately keeping quiet. Had to stay quiet, or be at the mercy of the galactic night.
Turns out Earth just hadn’t been on the right radio. Filter the right space phenomena through the right algorithms with the right new equipment, and suddenly aliens were shouting their existence all over the place. Planetary origins, ship movements, everything was there. It was an exciting time for space travel, in the beginning. Jennings still had the old recordings of his grandmother as a young woman, smiling proud with her team in front of the spaceship they’d built. It was going to be a new age.
It was a cosmic joke. A galaxy full of sapient species talking to each other ...because they were all threats. Earth, for all its dangers, was a positive oasis of peace compared to the conditions that apparently bred sapience. Humanity hadn’t just missed the comms, they’d missed the attitude. Every pre-arranged signal meeting? Ambush. Every ship? Armed to the teeth. Every first contact? Death and destruction. The species they met had seemed to thrive on the act of competition and combat, and so far they’d found humanity wanting.
Nevertheless, humanity persisted. Jennings persisted, too. As Chief of the Orinoco Voyage, he had to. And that was why he was out here.
That was why they were out \*here\*, to a cold system with no name around a nearly-dead star. The system where comms had picked up a message, repeating since...well, since entirely too long. A message that had never been responded to by any of the numerous alien species who should have rushed to greet and fight it’s originators.
A message that, as far as the Orinoco Voyage could tell, was simply: \[I’m here.\]
Jennings had disliked it the moment the fleet entered: there were debris fields made from no natural comet, the desiccated remains of artificial structures upon the few planetary bodies in the system, and what looked like a half-built Dyson sphere around the sun. Something \*had\* been here, once, at least. It had apparently liked cobweb-like structures of dark stone. And spirals.
“We got a response from the signal, Chief. And...you’d better look at the main visuals. Something’s moving”. Jennings strained against his harness to stand up as he switched feeds. Verification. Whoever was behind the signal had received theirs, for it had copied the message back and then repeated itself.
First contact was a delicate matter...even more delicate, these days. No sudden moves. They’d gone through the usual protocols: bursts of encoded data imitating the signaler’s own message, then a few more bursts of data Jennings half-remembered as proof of sapience and...goodwill? By this point, it was more of a plea: \[please don’t hurt us\]. Something was moving out there, against the face of the sun. It was not a ship. His face paled as foreboding crept down his spine.
Something unimaginably vast and ancient sloughed itself from the ruins of the Dyson sphere. Something that crept in waves of glistening pseudopods, that lifted and spiraled until it seemed like an oil spill the size of a star, emerging from its shell to drift toward the Voyage. Something that needed no ship to travel the stellar void, no ship to communicate with, no ship to see the face of the newcomers to its home. The oil spill entity crackled with radiation.
\[I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. You're here. You're here. You're here.\]
It waited. The Orinoco Voyage waited. In all previous instances of first contact every recovered feed indicated combat was engaged moments after confirmation of location.
Seconds later, the entity seemed to ripple. It flashed a signal. A second, longer signal. And then, almost like a feed in reverse, it drifted backwards to the Dyson Sphere; where, with as little warning as it had emerged, it sunk back down to rest.
It took Jennings some time to breathe. Longer to blink. Even longer to move. There was a dim sound, in his ears - of comms relays sounding, voices on the other end straining to tell him of the news, of the data received by their ships, of the sheer quantity of information that would become in time recognized as the compressed history of a long-dead species whose creations slumbered and dreamt in the dark and lonely corners of the cosmos, of the relief at their survival.
But Jennings could focus on none of that. Only that he was alive. The Orinoco Voyage was alive. They had met the alien, and they had not fired, and the alien had not fired...
Successful First Contact.
\~\~\~\~\~
I like these kind of stories, even I'm terrible at telling them. Eldritch friends are great stuff :V | John and Bardan dejectedly sat on the floor of their spacecraft, observing the screen of their life support system. In ten minutes, their oxygen supply would be finished—and with no allied supply ship nearby, so would their lives.
Despite the impossible odds, Bardan kept sending out telepathic pleas for assistance, which was a special ability of the Terqrok. John on the other hand kept brooding, which was a special ability of humans.
“Bardan,” John sighed, turning towards his co-pilot. “Give it up. No one is going to catch your message—not this far out in the galaxy, at least.”
Lowering a tentacle from its antenna, Bardan telepathically replied: “*You humans give up too easily.*”
“Well, I’d rather asphyxiate while relaxed, rather than stressed about help that won’t come,” John murmured.
Nine minutes of oxygen remained.
Bardan sent another telepathic message to John: “*Fine. Then if I am to perish, I shall ask you some questions I have been curious about*.”
“Oh?” John asked, raising an eyebrow. “And what have you been curious about?”
Bardan projected several questions from its mind over to John’s, mostly on the theme of human culture and ethics. John answered each of them as succinctly as possible: partly because he wasn’t a philosopher, but mostly because he only had a few minutes of oxygen left.
Three minutes of oxygen remained.
“*How…interesting,”* Bardan mused. “*Let me then ask you about religion. In your species’ dark ages, you believed in summoning ‘demons,’ correct?*”
“That’s right,” John replied. “Funny thing is, those demons turned out to be cosmic creatures. Scary creatures, sure. But cosmic creatures neverth—WAIT. Bardok, that’s it!”
“*A solution to our predicament?”*
“Yes.”
“*And what does your proposed ‘solution’ entail?”*
“Summoning a demon.”
Instantly, Bardan sent out a telepathic wave of distress, which John ignored as he brandished his combat dagger and slashed himself in the forearm. A fountain of blood poured out, and John used it to trace a star on the floor of their spacecraft.
Two minutes of oxygen remained.
“*John,”* Bardan asked, “*Why are you doing this? Is this not the height of insanity?”*
“Hah…” John groaned, his face grimacing from the laceration. “Says the one…who expected help in an abandoned sector of the galaxy.”
“*If I understand human tradition correctly, then does not this ritual require your soul?”*
“Sure does. But I figured I was going to Hell anyways.”
With the bloodied pentagram now drawn on the floor, John began chanting something in a language Bardan couldn’t understand.
One minute of oxygen remained.
“*John!”* Bardan telepathically yelled. John’s chanting escalated to a feverish pitch, and his eyes were rolled to the back of his head. Bardan was dumbfounded at John’s suicidal plan: “*You ignoramus! You cannot survive if your soul is devoured by a cosmic horror!”*
John finished chanting, and his eyes rolled back to normal. Upon seeing Bardan visibly distressed, John replied: “Maybe I won’t survive. But if the demon upholds its end of the deal, then you will.”
The errant beeping of the life support system notified the co-pilots that they had just run out of oxygen. As they both began to asphyxiate, the blooded pentagram on the ground started to glow, and all of the lights on the spacecraft suddenly dimmed. A dark fog spawned over the pentagram, spreading out and eventually filling the entire spacecraft.
After flooding the spacecraft for a moment, the fog slithered back into the pentagram. Bardan was suddenly alone in the spacecraft, able to breathe, and completely unable to comprehend why John sacrificed himself.
Bardan wanted to stop John from completing the ritual, not out of any true concern for John, but because of a question about humanity it wanted to ask him. Now, Bardan would never know the answer.
However, with life support and fuel systems suddenly restored—no doubt because of the ritual—Bardan plotted a course towards the nearest allied landing port. After specifying the coordinates, the navigation system stated that it would take several months before arrival. Bardan decided to spend the time pondering the question it never got to ask John:
“*Why are humans so willing to sacrifice themselves for others?*” | 2021-04-07T19:38:37 | 2021-04-07T19:03:13 | 558 | 261 |
[WP] "What do you mean they are mass producing Starships? I thought the humans were barely out of orbit!" | “What do you mean they are mass producing Starships? I thought the humans were barely out of orbit!” The director of the New Species Tracking Branch yelled. Yerrid cowered before the man as he slammed his fist on the desk.
“Well, uh, sir, that was-” Yerrid checked his notes, ”70 Terran orbits ago.”
“70? How could a species possibly advance that quickly? The average for the sector is nearly 560!” The director said in shock.
“Sir, our scientists were just as confused as you. The humans, they seem to be evolving much faster than our original calculations anticipated, ” Yerrid explained, ”At this rate, they will leave their solar system of origin in about 235 rotations.”
“But how? How are they evolving so quickly? They must have the help of one of the opposition parties, right?” The director questioned.
“It appears that from a sample of their DNA, they seem to have a mutation in the AGTC strand that gives them a much higher limit to how ambitious they will be, but it still isn’t proven that the AGTC strand affects behavior,” Yerrid explained, “And neither the Yunisian Union nor the Hevqkw Party has been allowed within that sector for hundreds of rotations.”
The director pondered for a moment, then said, “Should there not be a correlation between the AGTC strand and ambition, then what is it?”
Yerrid paused to check his notes once more, answered, “There is another factor: A man who goes by the name Elon Musk. But that’s just his Terran name. His real name is Yagagie’shk the Fourteenth, from the industrial planet of Adynalyne. He is the one who is spearheading space exploration from Terra, and also is the builder of those Starships.”
The director stroked his grey long beard.
“Elon Musk, you say?” | ‘How is this even possible!?’ General Morgeth yelled at his messenger, ‘The humans were classified as unable to even leave there own galaxy!’ ‘General, shall we prepare to wage war on the humans?’ the messenger asked, clearly terrified of the prospect of humans having access to the multiple galaxies beyond them. ‘Yes, ready the spaceships at once’ said Morgeth storming off into his own spaceship. He had seen what the humans had done to there own planet, the thought of them doing the same to others was awful.
But he was too late. As soon as he flew his ship out into outer space he was greeted with the thousands upon thousands of human spaceships. There home ship behind him exploded, knocking his ship into the fray of a hundred human ships. He prepared himself for death but instead heard ‘Alexander the Great orders for your surrender’ | 2021-01-30T05:06:56 | 2021-01-30T02:14:38 | 61 | 33 |
[WP] After death, a text window pops up: Welcome to new game+. You will begin your life anew, but retain all knowledge, skills, currency and items you choose to carry over. The Challenges and Enemies will be adapted to your level accordingly. | Still clutching his chest, Jon arrives in a bright all white room.
"What the hell?" Jon shouts out realizing that the pain in his chest is gone, but confused as to where he is. Last thing he remembers is falling to the floor at the Thanksgiving table with a sharp pain in his chest after his oldest boy Tommy told him he was giving up med school at John Hopkins to become a science fiction writer. Damn Tommy.
Dark bold letters appear in the room and Jon jumps back. None of this makes sense. The dark bold letters read, "Your Life Has Come To An End. Try Again?"
What The Fu....
Two buttons appear in front of Jon. One blue button. One red button. The blue button reads "Yes." The red button reads "No." Jon quickly presses the blue button with frustration hoping with all his heart that this is just a dream, and he'll wake up to tell Tommy he's making a mistake.
The dark bold letters fade away to more dark bold letters.
"Welcome To Life! The Game Where No One Gets Out Alive!"
Below the title in faint blinking gray letters reads, "Reincarnate?" Jon angrily presses on the blinking word.
The title screen fades away, and a menu with the dark bold title "Level Difficulty" pops up.
Underneath the title Jon reads his options.
Easy Mode. Restart your current life with knowledge you have now. Beware! things will not be the same since you will not make the same decisions.
Normal Mode. Restart your life without the knowledge you have now. Ignorance is bliss.
Hard Mode. Start your life at the bottom of the caste system in India. Are you the next Slumdog Millionaire?
Insane Mode. If you're not like Tommy, you'd pick this.
Jon immediately feels a fire flare up inside him. He's nothing like his son. His son couldn't handle John Hopkins like he did all those years ago. Hell, Jon survived on peanut butter sandwiches and what ever money he could muster up from odd jobs he did to get through med school. Jon paid to keep Tommy out of those hardships. Look what happened to that kid. He never knew the struggle. Jon can handle the struggle.
Jon selects Insane Mode without much more thought.
The room illuminates brightly after Jon's choice then all goes black.
Jon feels an odd sensation at the back of neck, and he feels the need to thrust his head forward. He hits a wall. Jon thrusts his head forward again; this time with more force. He hits the wall again, but this time there is a small crack and a little bit of light comes forth. Jon thrusts his head forward one more time with all the strength he can muster. Jon's head breaks through the wall and he is greeted by a large yellow brown face. Jon's eyes adjust and he lets out a chirp in horror.
Cluck Cluck goes the large yellow brown face. Jon's a baby chicken. God damn you Tommy.
| They call me the god amongst men. I perfectly understand their amazement. Everytime I'm close to die there is a baby boom, everyone try their luck to be my parents. After my 15th death and 16th "wake-up-call" I managed to avoid all the gold-diggers. After all these years I learnt how to choose my next family. And of course, I won't tell you.
It's hard to understand my existence. Even after all these years I can't really understand which is my role for all mankind. Or universe.
I tried to achieve world peace. And they killed me. After that all megacorporations protect me. Yes, they do have a big interest in my life, but their focus is on their profits. I saw everything, know everything, developed countless innovations... And I do not seek money. Why? My purpose is to accumulate experiences, moments. Now I'm getting tired of it. Like a old man that saved enough money to die on a hospital bed. Tired of trying to help people, to get used by them. Tired of seeing trying to outsmart me.
My biggest fear? What if I have a son? Or a daughter? Will they be like me? Imagine that, in a few thousand years the majority of the population is immortal like me. Imagine all the new babies fighting for power after birth. Imagine all the plans to enslave and force-produce humans to work... The possibilities are endless.
Maybe I should do that. Maybe I don't. As I said, I'm tired of being the savior, the holy one. It's a curse that I carry and only I can handle. Maybe I'll retire on a spaceship traveling to the universe boundaries. Maybe I'll plan to kill all mankind to shot myself and try to die for once.
I'm just tired.
edit: sorry for the mistakes that I didn't found. English is not my first language. And I don't understand my 1st language properly... so... | 2015-01-07T09:37:33 | 2015-01-07T09:05:51 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] You have $86,400 in your bank and someone steals $10. You spend all the rest of your money trying to get revenge. | "It's not the money, it's the principle."
My father's words. Though I think he was talking about taking a loan, as in principal with an A L, but that doesn't really matter.
It was free to find out who the culprit was, the bank does that for you. Not to help you, but to know who to put on their hit lists, your gain is just an added benefit. But for a petty crime like stealing 10 dollars, the bank does nothing. Apparently their policy only applies to thefts of more than fifty dollars.
So I had to take matters into my own hands.
The bank was kind enough to tell me who the culprit was, though: James Graham. Asshole extraordinaire. The bastard had stolen my lunch every time he was in lunch back in elementary school, which admittedly was not very often considering he had detention almost everyday. But still, having my apple juice carton ripped mercilessly out of my hands and disemboweled by another man is an image that will haunt me forever.
And now, he had the nerve to come back to my life, and steal *my* money. Hell no. No sir. And so I plotted my revenge. According to Stalkbook, Graham lived in London. Now, I did not have the cash for tomorrow's train fare, so a flight was out of the question, unless I wanted to withdraw from my savings account...which I actually wasn't legally allowed to for ten more years.
So I waited.
I worked extra hours at the StellarDollars, even though my soul withered a little more every moment I stood and smiled at random people who had come to get coffee or milk or whatever the hell. I sacrificed some of my guaranteed interest on the savings account and moved it to an investment variant, where I could chose to invest the money into different stocks or companies.
And I did. I had a plan you see, a plan so grand it would destroy him so utterly, so completely that he would lie broken at my feet, begging for mercy, and I, in my infinite kindness, would deny it. I read online articles, made the correct movements, predicted changes, made gambles. I cried, laughed, and died inside. And through it all only one name filled my mind, one name that fueled my drive, my relentless quest: James Graham: Asshole Extraordinaire.
One day, of no particular import, the call that I knew would come, came.
I stood up in the middle of the conference meeting, and dozens of chairs swiveled around and men in suits stared at me.
"Sir?" One asked, "we have to discuss this quarter's profits..."
I glared at him, and he fell silent. Without another word I stalked out of the meeting room, men and women staring at me as I did, but I paid then no mind. I pulled out my phone and answered.
"Sir, a loan verification from the name of James Graham has come in, asking for 2 hundred thousand," Stephanie said. I'd told her years ago to tell me when this happened. I'd bought out all the other banks in the area. He would have no choice to to borrow from mine, it was just a question of waiting.
And the wait was over.
I grinned. "Stephanie, approve him, but internally make it a loan of two million," I paused, and continued, "and ten - discreetly of course."
Stephanie had known me for years, she didn't ask any questions.
So when Graham got his first payment due he was suitably surprised to find his loan payments about ten times what they had been. He went to the bank enraged, sure there had been an error.
There was no error. The system clearly said he had borrowed 2 million, and now it was time to pay.
Oh and pay he did.
He could only watch as his house was sold, his wife divorced him, his kids hated him, his friends deserted him. I found him on the streets one day, begging with some coins in a cardboard box in front of him. I knelt down, patted him on the back and gave him a ten.
James' eyes widened, and he looked up at me, almost crying. "Th-thank you sir, thank you so, so much!"
I just smiled at him and walked away, whistling a merry tune.
***
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) for more of my work | I never expected to catch a flight to Paris on a Tuesday night, but life has a way of surprising you.
When I noticed the odd balance in my checking account, I did the usual: called the bank, reported a fraudulent charge, got the card cancelled. The receptionist told me the charge had an international origin and was spent at a *boulangerie* in the Latin Quarter of Paris. Otherwise, no further information.
I booked a flight minutes after hanging up.
From there, it was a matter of following the paper trail. I got repeated surges of adrenaline wandering into cafes and gift shops, asking questions, collecting information. It had been eight years since I'd done this type of work, and it felt spectacular.
You don't fuck with a retired detective.
The guys covered their tracks pretty well but, as luck would have it, two of 'em wandered into the same cafe just a half hour apart. Bad move. I found out where the second guy lived, booked a hotel room right next door, and bought a pair of binoculars.
Reconnaissance took longer than anticipated. I also ordered too much room service and fancy French wine and cheese. Hey, if you're retired and in Paris, what else are you gonna do?
The next day, I decided to make my move. Slowly. My back hurts all the damn time these days.
Turned out it was a dud. The guy had left earlier in the morning and I was too much of a lazy fuck to get up at the crack of dawn, so I decided to look for the other guy.
God, it took a while. I overestimated my own skills, to be honest. Maybe it was hubris, maybe it was fear of my own age. But with about two thousand bucks left in my account - don't even remember how many euros that is - I found him.
I gave a firm knock on the door and he opened it right up.
"Hello?"
I punched him square in the jaw. Again, hubris. He threw me to the ground within seconds and whipped out a knife.
"Give me one good reason to not cut you to pieces, *connard*."
"You stole something from me. Ten dollars of hard earned cash. I want it back."
He lowered the knife and laughed. "Ha! An American, I take it. You think you can come here and be like...who is it? Bruce Willis. Arnold Schwarzenegger. A real hero. Well, this is bigger than you'll ever understand, old man. So I suggest you run on back home and we'll forget this ever happened."
God. What was I thinking? I honestly believed that I could put a stop to it and get back what was mine. But when you're pushing eighty? Well...I guess I valued my life more than that, at least in that moment.
He let me go, but not without another threat. He told me there would be eyes on me now and for the rest of my life, even back in America.
Yeah, sure, pal. I've heard a hundred empty threats just like that.
I booked a plane ticket back to San Diego with the last of my money and collapsed in my apartment.
Later that week, I took a part-time job at a bakery. Easy stuff - after-hours cleaning and shelving. Calls itself a *boulangerie*, but it's pretty shit compared to France.
I'm saving my money to fly back to Paris, because I'm not done with these bastards.
One day, I'll get that $10, even if it fucking kills me. | 2017-07-18T09:15:26 | 2017-07-18T07:53:57 | 3,787 | 310 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | I had just finished putting the finishing touches on my paladin's character sheet. Ah, classic Dungeons and Dragons 3.5, the best version available. Call my old fashioned, but there's just something so refreshing about playing a goody goody character with a strict moral code. And heck, playing D&D was a great distraction from my boring real life - bank teller by day, dangerous rogue by night. Well, not this time. This time, I was going to be playing a hero.
As I placed my blue dice into my special Crown Royal bag, the room started to spin faster and faster until I must have passed out, because when I opened my eyes I was face-to-face with what looked like an actual, real wizard complete with pale blue robes, spellbook, and ioun stones floating around his head. To my surprise, when he spoke I could understand him. "Finally, a Demon worthy of my power! You do look quite fearsome!" He looked quite pleased with himself.
I rubbed my eyes again and pinched myself. No, not dreaming. This was...rather shocking. Pretending to fight against monsters was one thing, but to actually be summoned and identified as one...? Did he really think I was a Demon? I looked at my hands. They still appeared to be your basic human hands.
I noticed the chalk circle on the floor studded with lit candles at random intervals. I tried to nudge the chalk with my foot, but I was instantly repelled backwards. I sighed, and I could only hope that the same rules of all the fantasy games I'd ever played in my life would also apply to this strange place, wherever I was. "What is it that you want of me?"
"Simple, Demon. I have a list of tasks for you to complete, and should you succeed, I will grant you freedom." The wizard tossed a scroll through the barrier. I scooped it up quickly. I was a bit excited. A real quest? My life was now infinitely more exciting than it was a few minutes ago. My eyes scanned the first request: 'Acquire a Night Lily from the Garden of the Magus.' I had no idea where or what that was, exactly, but I nodded.
"Give me all the information you have on this Garden, and I'll start working on a plan..." The wizard's eyes widened in surprise, and he smiled. Oh yes, this was going to be fun.... | "Where am I?"
This was Emmett's first thought upon appearing in a room only lit by candlelight. He had previously been mowing his back yard, and his eyes had not adjusted to the dimness. His second thought quickly followed his first.
"I've got to puke." He vomited, extinguishing two of the five candles surrounding him. He heard an exclamation, not of anger but possibly surprise come from behind him. Wiping his mouth on his arm he turned around.
"Hail, uh demon. I have summoned you here to exact revenge on my enemies." The man was wrapped in beige cloth, he held a knarled stick in one hand, a halved onion in the other.
Emmett threw up again. He hated onions, but really his stomach was reeling from whatever summoning he had just gone through.
"Demon?" Emmett said, hands on his knees. "Do I look like a demon to you?"
The onion halver looked puzzled. He looked down at his onion, then back at Emmett.
"My incantations were made to call forth a fiery demon, one who cuts down uncountable lives and wields a poisonous burn!"
Emmett sighed. He ran his fingers through his red hair.
"Look dude, I was trying to mow my lawn and spray a little weed killer. I'm not a demon that can 'destroy your enemies'."
"But what of your red skin?"
"Oh shit, I forgot sunscreen." | 2017-05-12T10:50:04 | 2017-05-12T08:05:29 | 35 | 21 |
[WP] Legends tell of the Elder race who utilized strange "technologies" instead of magic. As hordes of brutal killers invade from the north, a young elf heads off to search for ancient ruins, looking for humans... | Enrir raced across the snow-covered wilderness, leaping deftly over slick rocks and the small brush that dotted the landscape. His commanding officer had told him that his stride was like that of a gazelle, and as Enrir's legs stretched and propelled him smoothly closer and closer to his target, he was beginning to believe him. But there was no time for pride.
Enrir had been given a mission of upmost importance. The war with the Orcs had reached a standstill, but scouts had reported a new army forming just beyond the northern border. One whose weapons and numbers would easily lay waste to the Elven Federation.
Once a simple territorial dispute, the Elven-Orcish war had escalated past the point of no return. It was now to go until total victory; if necessary, to the extinction of the other race. Until this point, the Elves had kept the Orc armies at bay with their supreme knowledge of magic. Their healing and rejuvenation spells had enabled their warriors to fight for hours or even days. The destruction spells allowed them to rain fire from the sky onto the Orc hordes. But the Orcs had a fortitude unmatched by any other creature in the Sgorvën lands. Their armies were merciless, tearing through Eleven villages like a torrenting river breaking forth from a dam. The Elven magic and soldiers could take out only so much. If the new Orc army was even half the size reported, it could spell the end of the war; and possibly, the end of the Elves.
The Elves knew that it was not in their power to vanquish the Orcs. Therefore, a new power would need to be acquired, one wielded by the Ancient Humans. The humans were revered in Elven Lore and often given the credit for the magic that they so proficiently wielded. Legends told of a weapon so terrible and so powerful, it could wipe out entire nations within minutes. The High Elven Council had deemed it necessary to find this weapon. However, intelligence suggested that the only information remaining regarding this weapon lay within a great white building in the ruins of the great human city: Washington, D.C., which lay right on the northern border.
Enrir was a new scout to the Elven Legions. However, he had quickly proven his adept ability by running reconnaissance. Why, in one mission he had outrun an entire Orc platoon without the use of magic! As such, the mission was given to Enrir. He insisted to go by himself, since one Elf would look much less suspicious to the Orc Empire. And if it came down to it, Enrir had no qualms about taking out a few Orcs.
After weeks of travel, Enrir had finally reached the outskirts of D.C. The great *skyscrapers* towered above Enrir as he ran through the *asphalt* streets, now pocked with holes and brush and covered with snow. As he came into the remains of a stone courtyard, he skidded to a halt and tilted his curved ears to the wind. He had heard movement, carried to him by the wind. He pulled his enchanted robes tighter around his waist, and began to move his fingers back and forth, forming an ice spike. He readied himself to throw it, sprinting around the corner of a crumbling building. As he sprang around the building, his eyes met those of a mother deer with two fawns. He lowered his hands, dispelling the ice spike.
"Nerves," Enrir said, cursing. His eyes drifted past the deer, and met great white pillars beyond a rusting black gate. He had found it.
Enrir quickly vaulted the fence, almost catching his robes on the protrusions in his excitement. The doors, which Enrir had been told had once had ushered in some of the greatest Humans of the Technology Age, now leaned against the doorframe, faded and splintering. Enrir slowed his pace, venturing quietly into the building. He looked around. The ceiling now had holes from which dried ivy now hung. Enrir recognized some frames that used to house paintings, but now lay broken on the floor.
He ventured further into the building. He explored several of the smaller rooms. *Desks*, from which Human *politicians* did their work, were now covered in layers of ancient dust. Rusting *file cabinets* were toppled over, their papers spilling out onto the ground. Enrir entered a large, oval-shaped room. He recognized it as the *Oval Office*, which had housed the great leader of the "United States." As Enrir surveyed the chipping walls and peeling carpet, his sharp eyes caught a panel on the wall that seemed to be lifting itself out. He went over to it, touching it slightly. He jumped as the panel fell to the floor, seemingly of its own accord. Beyond the panel was a *concrete* staircase, which descended deeper and deeper down. Enrir started down it, making sure to quiet his steps in case it was an Orc trap.
As he reached the bottom, a large iron door met him. In its center was what looked like a wheel. Enrir took hold of it and twisted it this way and that, until it finally started to turn. Enrir spun the wheel, and the door swung open. Enrir stepped into a smaller room. Its walls were completely made of a metallic substance. As Enrir reached out to brush the wall, a cracking voice spoke, "Have you come to kill me?"
Enrir jumped several feet off of the ground. He searched for the voice's source, and found a black chair facing a corner in the room. It slowly spun around, revealing a wisp of a man. His figure was naught but sticks, a white beard trailed to the ground, and the hair on top of his head was completely gone. However, the rusting pin on the man's fading white button-up shirt told Enrir all he needed to know. This man was, or had been, the president of the United States.
---
If you liked this, check out /r/Alias_Fakename
God bless! | "Jamarr," I called back, stepping carefully onto the stones that slept in the river, "you have to keep up."
Jamarr grumbled a reply, his Orcish armor clunking loudly behind me. Sometimes, I wondered how he became one of the best thieves in his stronghold. I waited safely on the other side of the stream and watched as he struggled to find his footing against the slippery stone, and then, in a blur of obscenities and less-than-graceful motions, he fell flat on his face into the mountain-chilled water. He met me on the other side and gave me a look that said "don't even bother commenting".
"Why are we hiking out here anyway, Bryn? The humans aren't real. They're a fairy tale, just like the dragons. Oh, and Little Foot." He complained.
I led the way into the Frovian Woods and motioned for him to keep his voice down. If the faeries knew we were here, we'd never leave, but be forced to dance within their beautiful halls until our ankles snapped from exhaustion. I'd heard the stories, and that was all I needed.
I lowered my own voice to below a whisper. "Dragons *are* real, Jam, they're just... not around anymore. And besides, the humans were never a fairy tale, remember? They're a legend, and most legends are true where I come from."
Jam laughed a deep, Orcish laugh, something that I was not used to. The treaty between the Elves and the Orcs broke down long ago, but Jamarr and I met while out hunting. He was six, and had wandered into our territory by mistake. I helped him get back to his family safely, and he gave me a few of his squirrels, which marked the beginning of our friendship.
"Right, because the Elves are just so trustworthy? Come on, Bryn, this is stupid and pointless. Let's just go home before they realize we're gone." He urged, stopping to look over his shoulder. I wanted to go home just as much as he did, but no one else was going to find the humans, and he promised he'd come with me.
"They *are* trustworthy, and no, it's too late to go back. Now keep your voice down or else the faeries will-"
"Find you?" Said a small, yet stern voice. Fear prickled the hairs on my arms as Jam and I both looked down. A blue-tailed squirrel was gazing up at us intently, his little head cocked to the side. Then, the squirrel was gone, and in its place stood a wolf, tall and menacing.
"Are you a shape-shifter?" Jam inquired, taking a small step forward. I glared fire at him, silently willing him to shut his mouth before he got us killed.
The wolf, however, laughed, as well as a wolf could laugh, and flicked his tail back and forth. "A shifter? Ha! Those things are about as real as the humans you're going after. No, Mr. Big-Teeth, I was cursed."
"Cursed?" Jam echoed at the same time that I asked, "Have you been following us?"
The wolf licked his lips almost hungrily. "Maybe. It's not everyday an elf and an orc wander into faerie territory. You know how dangerous it is here? How old are you?"
I cut Jam off before he could utter another word and sighed. "Yes, we know. We just need to find the humans."
"Why would you ever need to come face to face with those vile, destructive creatures?" The wolf pondered, a wolfish smile twisting his lips.
"Because our home is being invaded as we speak, and we need to get the humans' help-"
The wolf shook his head and cut me off. "Yeah, yeah, you want their technology, I figured as much. Well, looks like it's your lucky day, Gold-Skin, because I happen to know a guy who knows a guy that just might be able to help you."
"Really?" I said sarcastically, ignoring the 'Gold-Skin' part. "And you'd help us, just like that?"
"Of course not, you long-eared idiot, I want something in return."
"Oh?"
The wolf looked around for a minute, as though he were making sure that no one else was listening in. Then he turned his silver eyes to mine, dead serious.
"You have to help get this curse off of me."
It seemed too easy of a deal, but the seriousness of his voice was not like the empty promises I've heard back home. I wondered why he was so quick to jump on the opportunity to help two complete strangers that aren't even where they're supposed to be, but if he was truly cursed, then I suppose he had a reason. I looked to Jam, who simply smiled and shrugged, letting the decision fall to me. Sometimes I hated being the decision-maker.
"Fine." I groaned, rolling my eyes, "You have a deal."
| 2017-01-06T16:47:24 | 2017-01-06T16:24:54 | 35 | 12 |
[wp] In an alternative universe, 99℅ of people are born with Anti-Powers (like super weak strength or super slowness) and the ones that are born without them (pretty much a normal human beings) are seen as Super Heroes and have to save the less fortunate. | They say I'm one of those without something missing, but the truth is that they just can't see it.
Pretty much everyone here has a weakness now, in one form or another. Some are left with weaker immunity, coughing up blood and mucus by the handful as onlookers watch behind terrified eyes. Some have weaker brains, destined to a life of dull confusion before a job as hired muscle in some factory somewhere; the lucky few forget the safety procedures and end their worthless lives. Weakened bones left many fearing a broken neck from a simple stumble.
Humanity struggles on in the aftermath of the radiation blast, crippled and limping.
There is weakness everywhere here now. Weak hearts and minds, weak bladders, hearing and skin. People cascade about with lesions and disease; pain and madness.
The few that are still strong, or those lucky children born right, are crippled by their own morality. They scrape and follow after those without the capacity to help themselves. They carry those that are broken, tend to those that choke on illness, and watch over those with minds too inept to watch themselves. The strong here bear the cross of the weak.
I try to right this wrong. I am the slight push at the back of the eternally broken man. I am the filth that finds its way into the food of the child with an ever present cold. I am the helpful hint that the machine works better if you don't put down the safety guard. My weakness is, I do not fear the look in the eyes as they die, I do not fear the emotion. I don't have to.
Nobody will catch me, there aren't enough bodies to go around as it is, and I doubt I'm the only one at it. In any case, as soon as humanity is able to stop me, I might even go willingly.
Slowly, I'm working my way through the detritus of humanity. Slowly, I'm making us stronger. | (This is a really cute prompt by the way)
Ayo
They call my Regular Ryan, cuz my rhythm be flyin
I can run a mile in an hour if I can catch my breath, I'm dyin
My friend Ordinary Orville, makin small hills outta molehills
Needed me to reach the milk to get his cereal bowl filled
I'm a giant at 5'6" so on my tippy toes
I snatched that shit right outta the cabinet tho
The public sees me as a mighty force of justice and peace
I can climb a whole tree if you give me boost, pretty please
But never doubt for a second that I'm the one to save the day
I'm the one who knows how to send an email, anyway
I Am Might | 2015-09-02T13:33:19 | 2015-09-02T10:51:51 | 90 | 53 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping. | The Devil's face told you everything you needed to know at that moment. His clap was sardonic and so incredibly sad.
"How, how the hell did you end up here...in Hell?"
"Well, you know I just made a few mistakes. Wasn't really paying attention and I let a few things get out of hand."
"Yeah, but you of all people. Seriously, bro. How?"
"Well, it started out as not really focusing for a while, thinking people in charge would know what they were doing. Basically, a serious of dominos that just fell and once I woke up from my rest things had gone to shit."
"Yep, but you 'know everything' are 'all powerful'. You're the one that kicked me out. How does God end up in Hell?"
"Long story short, I made these giant lizards, then got a little drunk killed them off. Created these human things, let them have free will, then they started killing each other like it was their job. So, since I wrote the rules about how to be a good person and I'm responsible for the death of entire species and I've let millions of people die it's time for me to punish myself."
"So, I'm in charge now?"
"Not really, I'm still the boss, you're more like the care taker. Also, Mike and Gabe will still be around to keep you here and kick your ass periodically. Just don't let the humies finally finish each other off. Create some collective enemy for them. Hey, there's a use for my giant lizards."
"You're still drunk aren't you."
"Maybe..." | "Uh, hey, Satan," I say. "Are you hiring?"
"Sorry kid," says the devil. "We don't have any job openings at this time."
"Well, I guess I'm stuck here," I reply. "Is there anything to do around here?"
"We have an old PlayStation original," says Satan. "That's about it."
"Do you have any of the *Final Fantasy* games for the PS?" I ask.
"This is Hell," Satan admonishes me. "What the *Hell* do you think?"
I think about it a second.
"I'll take that as a no." | 2017-06-22T07:09:26 | 2017-06-22T03:21:52 | 38 | 23 |
[WP] There is nothing unusual about a man in a business suit carrying a briefcase, rushing off to work. But since he just quickly passed you as you are climbing up Mount Everest in full winter gear, you have questions. | "Uhmmm, excuse me sir! Excuse me!" I shouted at the man who had just walked briskly passed me. He was wearing a 3-piece suit that looked like it was dry cleaned recently, despite the fact that it was well below freezing this high up in the mountains. He stopped and turned around, appearing slightly annoyed "Yes? Can I do something for you?" I slowly made my way up to him, trudging through the snow that he had made his way through. Once I got close enough for him to here me over the snow that had started, I asked him "Uhmmm, where are you going?"
&#x200B;
As he pulled up his sleeve to look at his watch, he said without looking up "Where am I going? Is that not obvious? Or, maybe it isn't. I'm going to work." Although slightly rude, I suppose it was the answer I was expecting, even as odd a situation as this was. "Arent you cold?" it wasn't the most important question, but it was the most prescient one on my mind. Either this guy had some supernatural resistance to cold, he was crazy, or he was going to die in less than an hour due to exposure. "Not in particular. Is that all? I'm late, and I really must go now," he said rolling down his sleeve and picking up his suitcase, before walking off while I stood there bewildered.
&#x200B;
I started to chase after him, and had to push close to my physical limits just to keep pace with him. "Does your workspace have a restroom? I've got to use it and I would prefer not to do so out here in the snow," I said. It wasnt necessarily a lie, but it was mostly just a reason to follow him and see where he would go. Maybe he hadn't heard me over the snow, but he kept pressing onward. It wasn't long until we approached a large boulder, and with what looked like random fiddling with pebbles near it, a set of elevator doors opened up on the boulder. The man entered the boulder, and looked at me as I sat there stunned, until he cleared his throat and said "Well? Are you coming?" as he put his hands on the door.
&#x200B;
I made my way over as fast as I could, and entered the boulder. As I got in the doors shut behind me, and the "boulder" started to move. Inside was the room of a standard elevator, except it only one button. I looked around in stunned silence, and after a couple minutes, the man turned to me and offered out his hand, "I don't believe I introduced myself. I'm Robert Johnston. I work here as an systems technician." Not to be rude, I shook his hand, but was still very confused. "Henry. Where exactly is here?" I asked as the elevator continued to descend. He rubbed his temples with his left hand, and replied in a voice that seemed to be between tired and stressed "You know, its probably best that someone else explain that to you."
&#x200B;
As our conversation finished, the elevator came to a soft stop and opened its doors to a lobby room. It was a round, and had a table in the middle with a woman sorting papers and a man pacing back and forth on the floor talking to her. As the door dinged the man pacing looked up from the woman at Robert and said lightheartedly "Ah, speak of the devil." It seemed he hadn't noticed me because as he turned to me, his face went from shock to joy. "A visitor, how exciting!" He said as we walked up to us. "Mr. Johnston, I will excuse your tardiness for now, please introduce me to the guest you brought, " He said looking at Mr. Johnston as he enthusiastically shook my hand. "This is Mr. Henry, he saw me walking here and followed me. Mr. Henry, this is my boss Frank Spiduh. Frank, he would like to know where the restrooms are and what this place is." He gave us a factory introduction, and began to walk off to the other side of the room and got into another elevator.
&#x200B;
Frank took me by my hand, and led to another elevator, this time closer to the entrance. As we got in, I saw this one was different. The wall were glass, and through them I could see an absolutely large facility. This elevator also had an assortment of buttons, and Frank pushed one as the doors shut. As soon as the elevator began descending, Frank started talking. "The best way to describe what we do here is scientific research. Over there is our nuclear research sector. Right now they are attempting to figure out the secret of nuclear fission." As the elevator continued past that floor, we soon came to a much smaller laboratory filled with people in hazmat suits and scientific instruments I couldn't name. "This right here is the facility where we research viruses and diseases. Just this weak they figured out a formula to determine how a bacteria is likely to adapt to antibiotics," Frank said as we quickly descended past that floor as well. Soon we passed a floor absolutely filled with computers, as well as people working on them. "This is our cyber security room, this is where they try and find any exploits or issues within other computer systems around the world that might result in a global electronic shut down."
&#x200B;
As the elevator counited to descend I remembered something. Although I wasn't someone who paid attention to news all that much, I remember hearing that an infamous terrorist group had developed nuclear capabilities as well as potentially having access to bio weapons. It seemed Frank had realized that as well, as he put his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye. "It seems you've finally noticed. Well, there's really only one option I have." I stood there, tears welling in my eyes as I realized that I had no escape from what ever he was about to do. "P-please don't kill me. I promise I wont tell anyone that you're here," I blurted out in fear. Frank look shocked, "No no no, you have the wrong idea. I wasn't going to kill you, I was going to offer you a job. We offer a great health package, complete with dental. We also offer 10 weeks paid vacation per year, as well as a year of paternal or maternal leave." I suddenly relaxed, and began shaking his hand excitedly, 'Yes Mr. Spider, Thank you Mr. Spider." He gave me a hearty chuckle and said "Dont call me Mr. Spider, It's Mr. Spiduh. And don't call me that either, call me Frank" | “Good day to you, old sport, mind pointing me in the peak's direction?” The smartly dressed man gave Joe a tip of his top-hat, the hat somehow staying on his head despite the harsh gusts of wind hitting them both. In fact, the man’s clothing showed no signs of the elements, not even containing a spot of dirt or snow. The man stared at Joe, awaiting an answer, causing the mountain climber to point his gloved hand towards the peak.
“The peak? Um, yeah, it’s that way. If you follow the markers you should get there, it’s not too far.” Joe far too shocked to question the man, only able to point him in the direction he requested, wondering if this was all just some bizarre hallucination.
“Awfully sporting of you lad, thank you. I wish you well on your voyage.” He gave a quick bow before he began hopping up the mountain, his knees bending before springing up, throwing him eight feet in the air with each bounce. The sight like something out of a cartoon, the way he bounced with weightless ease, clearing the rest of the way with ease.
“I must be low on oxygen.” Joe held his hand against his mask, sucking in a few more huffs of oxygen, hoping that might clear his head. Not wanting to spend the rest of his climb in an exhausted state of disillusion.
As he recovered from his temporary break, he continued the upward path, only to pause, noticing the footprints of the man. Joe crouched down, dragging his finger through the marking, shaking his head. “Unbelievable, there’s no way this is possible. I should head back down.”
Joe turned, considering making the journey back, only to look at how little he had left to climb. It would be such a waste to stop now, something he would regret forever. It didn’t help that he had questions as well, eager to find out just who this mysterious entity was. He steeled himself for the last part of his journey, his movements slow and precise as he worked his way higher up the mountain, carefully maneuvering his body until he had made it, tossing himself onto the ground as he reached the peak. Taking long drawn out breathes, feeling a sense of adrenaline and accomplishment that no drug could provide.
“I did it.” Joe muttered, raising his hands to the air.
“Certainly did old sport, now mind being quiet, we are discussing business.” The familiar voice said, causing Joe to sit up quickly.
Sitting by a small wooden desk were two figures, one being the businessman from earlier and the second being someone he could only describe as Santa Claus? The two looking at a briefcase, a shining golden light spilling out of its edges.
“How much do you want for the part?” Mr Claus asked, his hand dragging along his bearded chin.
“Charging Father Christmas, what do you take me for? I just want a favor.” The man said, trying to push the suitcase closer, only for Santa’s gloved hand to stop his shove.
“I asked how much you want. No deal with the devil is free.”
“The Devil? Don’t call me that. I’m the Devil in hell, above hell I’m just a businessman, offering you a way to make your deliveries faster. A feather worthy of Hermes himself, never miss a home again. You don’t want more kids to believe that Santa hates the poor, do you? Without that Christmas spirit you might die, you look like you are already growing thin.”
“You have your favor.” Santa grumbled, snatching the suitcase, before whistling, calling his reindeer over. When the sled appeared, Santa wasted little time, hoping straight into it.
“Suppose you couldn’t give me a lift down the mountain too.” The Devil called to him but it was too late, Santa leaving him behind, forcing the Devil to let out a huff. “Jolly my ass. Oh, thanks for being quiet. Want a lift down the mountain? Course you do.”
Before Joe could even answer, the Devil snapped his fingers, the ground beneath them shifting, forming a staircase downwards. The Devil picked Joe up, tossing him over his shoulder before he broke into a sprint. The sudden sprint caused Joe to panic, the change in altitude causing him to grow lightheaded before passing out.
“You ok? Hello?” A medic shook Joe by his shoulder, waking him up. When his eyes opened, he would see the mountain in the distance, his body safety at the bottom of Everest. “You must have had a tumble on the way down. You’re alright.”
“The Devil. I saw him and Santa.” Joe deliriously spoke, causing the medic to give him a weird stare as he motioned for a stretcher.
“Right? Um, its been traumatic so you may have been imaging things, just take some deep breaths and we will get you warmed up.”
As they put Joe on the stretcher, he would see a bus leaving in the distance, the businessman seated towards the back, giving him a wave as the bus headed off, driving towards a tunnel. As soon as it touched the tunnel, a cloud of smoke rushed over it, sending it back to hell.
“I told you, that’s him, didn’t you just see the bus?” Joe called out, only for the medic to look back.
“What bus? Calm down, it’s going to be alright. You are seeing things.” The medic assured him, but Joe knew better, forced into the ambulance, wondering if anyone would ever believe what he had witnessed today.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-01-31T23:41:43 | 2021-01-31T22:58:04 | 232 | 122 |
[WP] As a silly joke to yourself, you sometimes open notepad to write a message to 'your fbi agent' before deleting it. Today in the middle of browsing reddit, notepad opened and a reply appeared. "I'm sorry, they're coming for you. Run." | "I'm sorry. They're coming for you. Run".
The slice of pizza burned his mouth as he took a greedy bite,
getting oil all over his hands. "Who is this?" he typed drunkenly while sitting on his unmade bed,
"Did you hack my computer?". "Ah fuck, fuck" he groaned as the oil
dripped on his keyboard.
He wiped his hands on his already stained t-shirt, following the contours
of his oversized belly formed by years of laziness. "I ain't running from nobody",
he typed, "Good luck catching me alive!"
He figured it was some script kid that hacked his computer. He gut-laughed loudly
and belched up a stink of beer and mozzarella, starting
to delete various programs and system files, launching a virus scan.
"Stan Hardy, 43, born in Trecoda to Michael and Louise Hardy. I've been reading
everything you ever wrote. I'm not sure why. It passed the time. Maybe
because you're so one hundred percent awful... it made me feel better about
myself"
Stan picked up the half-empty beer can and hurled it at the wall with a loud "FUCK!".
He looked around for ideas, but had none. The pizza box had fallen on the floor
leaking oil all over the carpet. He could only type. "Listen, you sick fuck,
you're messing with the wrong guy. I will find out who you are and
hunt you down"
Stan was out of his mind with rage. Fast grunts of air escaped from his
trash bag of a body as he tried to calm himself,
worried about his bad heart. He leaned over for his medication on the night stand,
but it was out of reach. He sat. He waited.
A picture popped open on the screen. Stan's face contorted. Then another picture.
Then another. Stan didn't know if he was going to vomit or pass out. The pictures closed and notepad opened again:
"I'm sorry, there is nothing I can do. You are guilty. I saw you transform over the years.
You used to have a family. You were on the good path. But gradually you transformed into...
into what you are now. And I did nothing."
"I could've tried to send a message earlier. I could've helped. I did nothing"
"Now it's too late. Part of me knew you wouldn't run. I guess it is too late now anyway.
Remember Rose? Remember how you used to love her? You bought her flowers every Friday evening"
Seeing her name, Stan's fury returned with a vengeance, he growled and -- there was a knock at the door:
"Police, open up!" | I quickly reply: "who are you?". I then get a series of notepads sent to me explaining that he is, in fact, my FBI Agent. He addresses that the government is coming for me, as they are thinking that because of all of my letters, I know of the operations that the FBI conducts on people's computers. I ask him: "Why are you telling me all of this? And how can I know that this isn't some kind of bad prank?". He then replies with all of my information. My birthdate, information on my family, my childhood home, friends, all of it. He then says that he has grown fond of me as a person, and wants me to be safe from the FBI. With his guidance, I find a secret hallway behind a bookshelf, leading to a secret basement that I have never seen, in the house that I have lived in the last 15 years. I then proceed to head through the basement, turning corners everywhere I go, like its some sort of a maze. After what felt like an eternity, I find the center of this "Maze". Inside, I see a sort of satanic ritual and five people in ropes staring at me. Then, the corridor that I came through behind me, all of a sudden closes, like there was never even a corridor there in the first place. I stare back at the people and say to them: "who are you?". Then, the one of them that looks like a leader does a big belly laugh, and I fell asleep. When I wake up, I discover that I am, in fact, stuck in hell. | 2020-01-04T08:41:01 | 2020-01-04T03:31:35 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] For most of college everyone thought you were deaf when in reality you just don't like talking and learned sign language at a young age. You never corrected anyone until someone confessed their love for you, thinking you couldn't hear them. | We were at my house, late into the night studying for an upcoming test when the topic came up.
"Do you think love?" Chris signed out, moving his slim hands with ease.
I never thought I'd have a hand thing, but apparently I do.
I guess it makes sense, after all these years of "pretending" to be "deaf", watching hands and "reading" lips just became natural.
I never chose to be "deaf", it was just thrusted upon me. Better than being called anti-social I thought at first, but all this pressure to keep up this facade because talking was also stressful, so never really an in between, and right now was stressful for some reason.
It shouldn't have been, it was just another normal night hanging out with Chris…
Who I had a big crush on.
And right, his question.
He waved his hand in front of my face bringing me back to the real world.
"?" I tilted my head in confusion of his aforementioned question.
He shook his head "nevermind."
But his avoidance irked me. He was the one who brought it up in the first place, yet he had the audacity to just drop it.
I may have been overreacting, but when your crush of two years asks you about love, you can't just ignore it and move on.
"Ask." Ask your question again chris, let me understand, let me help, please let this be a confession.
He sighed, "Love life."
He continued explaining, hands moving to form words.
I nodded, I did think about love, where it would go, if I'd ever even be in a relationship, go on dates, get married, have children.
I was moving a bit too fast, children are definitely off the table for now, I shouldn't even be thinking about that before the first date… if I ever have one that is.
We continued to "talk", before he swayed into something much more personal, not just the idea and muses of romance, but the reality of it, just out of reach: crushes.
The secrets kept hidden.
I was about to spill the beans, but that earnest look on his face knocked all the wind and courage out of me.
He took a pause, I could see his lips move, like he was trying to talk, and I could hear his heavy breath, feel it— when did he get so close?
"I love you."
My heart just about stopped, jumped ten miles high, bursting out of my chest.
He moved closer, resting against me when I showed no resistance.
"I love you too," I whisper, and I can see his eyes going wide, but I can't understand why.
And then it catches up to me, and my life flashes before my eyes.
This is it, it's all over, he's going to hate me.
His hearing aids, and the fact that he can lip read, and the fact that I just spoke, It's all hitting me one by one, obvious right in front of me details.
I should have never let my guard down.
But his shock turns into confusion, and I feel I have to clear it up. If I were to just be a coward and kick him out, our ten year friendship would be ruined.
"I'm not deaf."
His eyes widened like saucers, but once he gathered himself, a smile so sweet.
"As long as everything was true, as long as you are true, it doesn't matter, I love you."
And god if that doesn't make me cry tears of joy. Everything is finally coming together, even though I know I'm going to have to make it up for lying to him.
Maybe being labeled as deaf wasn't such a bad thing after all.
(Sorry for any inaccuracies and mistakes.) | What do I say?
Do I say anything?
I just finished my powerpoint presentation, in lieu of a speech, a request that was granted by my public speaking professor. My topic was surrealism and after closing with a slide featuring Salvador Dali's "The Persistence of Time", the bell rang and it was time to head across campus for Logic 101. I garnered the obligatory applause from the class, grabbed my backpack, and started to head to the hallway when I heard a whispered voice in my right ear.
"I love you Darren."
It was the brown haired Zooey Deschanel look-alike that I've been crushing on since the first day of the semester.
She knew I was "deaf" right?
My strategy had worked like a charm ever since middle school. I remember this bigger kid bullying me at lunch about my Cure t-shirt. My response came out of nowhere. I pretended I couldn't hear him, and it worked. He made a fool of himself making fun of a deaf kid. A deaf kid with excellent musical taste.
I've been bulletproof ever since. Words can't hurt if you can't hear them, right? I went on to befriend the two deaf kids at my small town school. We would have long conversations about comic books, classic movies, and video games, all in beautifully clear and silent sign language. Instead of playing the high school popularity game, I didn't play at all. I was exempt from the banal cliches of homecoming blah blah... basically I avoided the bullshit that doesn't matter and never mattered.
The unfortunate part was that dating was off the table. Not many deaf girls in Newton, Ks. I never knew how to talk to girls anyway so now i manufactured the perfect excuse. I'm probably still too young to fully realize this but your lies always catch up to you. At some point you have to face your frauds. Is this one of those "coming of age" moments where I finally become who I really am?
I hesitated, not knowing how/if I should respond. If I speak, then I blow my cover forever. I lose my protective barrier between my quirky weird silent self and the rest of well-adjusted humanity. If I remain deaf and mute, I perpetuate what I've sensed for a long time as an unhealthy crutch that I've been using as an easy way out of living a full life.
It's becoming clear to me that I'm at a fork in the road. I must decide now. My mind flashes between me and my future grandkids playing in the park, and me as a middle-aged man working at a warehouse where I still don't speak. I'd forgotten how.
Right then I realized there was only one way to go.
"My hearing is actually pretty good in my right ear you know..." | 2020-12-01T18:02:47 | 2020-12-01T17:46:27 | 25 | 13 |
[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. | Zander grinned, a wide shark teeth grin as he looked upon the beaten human they tied down. She was unconscious and bleeding from multiple cuts the flageis had inflicted himself. He glanced over at the assistant who was looking rather green around the gills. With a curt nod the boy pulled the lever and woke the human general with ice cold water.
“i’m getting quite impatient, General Smith.” He reached forward and pulled a strand of wet hair out of the Generals face. “call off your army, they are marching to their death.”
“No.” She said glaring at the flageis. Zander flared his fins and slapped the women. She recoiled back, three new cuts bubbling with their disgusting red blood. “you’re insane.” Smith coughed out, and spat blood on the floor.
“How can you hold out on such a fanatical hope? General, out of everyone I figured you would’ve had the sense to see it.” Zander shook his head and started to walk around the grey concrete room. “You’ve lost billions, your crops are being destroyed, your guns are so primitive they can’t even pierce our scales.” He turned back to the struggling general. “Give up.”
A hysterical laugh bubbled out of the woman's throat. “You’re all insane!” She cried, throwing her head back to laugh. “you’ve managed to do something no one ever has, and now you’re fucked!” She continued to laugh, despite the cuts and bruises that litter her body, despite being held captive for months, she laughed like she knew something he didn’t.
“what do you mean?” Zander hissed grabbing her chin and forcing the general to stare into his soulless black eyes. She gave him a grin that doesn’t reach her eyes, bubbling with fury. “SPEAK YOU WRETCHED HUMAN!” She didn’t flinch.
“You’ve never seen what we’ve done, the horror we brought upon us well we were divided, but now?” She let out another hysterical laugh, “you’ve poked the bear! We’ve united against a common enemy, an enemy that killed billions of humans, men women and children, and now you will have hell to pay.
We have something, something so atrocious and evil we locked it away, quietly perfecting it, and now? Well the devils come knocking.” Zander took a step back, confused. Intel said the humans were beaten! They had less than a million left, only one stronghold between the flageis and the perfect planet. “Say you’re prayers bitch, your going to need them!”
The room shook, and the General started singing. It was an old human song, something they sang before battle and the way she sang chilled him to the bone. His com case to life, general Dirnai with heavy static.
“RETREAT! I REPEAT RETREAT! three settlements have been eradicated with massive amounts of radiation! Zander release the human and leave!”
Zander pales and hastily cut the human out of the ties, “What was that?” he cried fumbling for the key that opened the door.
“Three Atomic bombs, all going off at once.” Zander stopped and looked at the human. She had a smug little smirk on her face.
“A-Atomic?” the intern asked standing next to Zander. She nodded, the smug smirk still there.
“Harnessing the power of the atom for destruction, we made the most powerful bomb in existence! and well you,” she wagged a finger in his direction, “were busy killing innocents out scientists perfected it.”
“You’re all insane!” the Intern cried looking at her from behind Zander. She just nodded, smirk evolving into a grin.
Zander opened the door and pushed the General to the side, he had to get this information to headquarters. him and the intern jumped into a ship and flew away, as fast as possible. away from the planet that held death and destruction.
this is the first i’ve written for writing prompts, feedback is encouraged | The battle was over faster than it had escalated, with all of humanity staring on with smug satisfaction. They may not be the most intelligent, advanced, or tactical species in the universe, but they were most definitely considered the deadliest.
This was not something they would be proud of for long No sooner did the initial wave of death blow through space in a shower of cosmic radiation, did their allies and enemies contact them. It ranged from anger to downright hostile remarks.
Those that had been allied for decades prior were calling for what amounted to genocide of the Terran species. No matter how they defended their actions, threatened to do more, and pleaded to be heard, it seemed as if the whole of the universe had witnessed a horror that should not exist. No...The Terrans had no more say in the Universal Council. The treaties had been completely nullified, forgotten, and even used as reasons to declare a unified front against the species as a whole.
It was not long after their first bombardment of what they considered "Nuclear Supremacy" that they were marked for an execution. Among themselves, the other species gathered and signed their own peace treaties. The Terran's desire to end the war between the races among the universe had succeeded. The only problem was that it had turned them all into a unified, unstoppable tidal wave of death and chaos; directed purely at the Terran race itself.
It took thousands of years for them to reach such an advanced state. It took a mere 20 to decimate them back into the stone age. Their technology was sealed, studied, and promptly erased from existence. The last sound any Terran made, was a strangled cry for help, to understand why they were being killed. It was met with a harsh, loud pulse of electromagnetic deharmonization. This followed by a sickening silence as the multicolored mist of atoms, which were no longer held together by their natural force, drifted apart in a cloud of death.
It was another decade before it was discussed what the evil race had done, along with a cautionary tale to the scientists around the universe to remember what morals to abide by.
While those of the Terran race had dared to manipulate and master the atom, they had failed to realize and identify that each atom was its own life form. Each atom was infinitely scaling to be its own micro universe, and because other races had found this out, they had theorized that we too were only atoms in some other, vaster universe.
The fear that the Terran people had caused, and subsequently failed to understand, was that we might be split and annihilated at any given moment, just as they had done to those poor universes before.
///End Lesson: Rise and fall of the Terran Dictatorship, Era 55 of the Great Galactic Conglomeration
///Universal History, Volume 553
///Goodbye
///Would you like to know more?
&#x200B;
///Yes ///No | 2019-12-19T05:52:46 | 2019-12-19T04:11:54 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] Your ship's new prototype energy cannon just vaporized an alien warship, shattered a moon, and punched a hole through a planet. "Sir, message from thier flagship: What the !@#$ing %/&$ was that?!". | The comms blinked amid the hiss of venting oxygen and crackling, exposed wire. The green light flashed insistently for my attention, out of sync with the red alert lights pulsing throughout the ship's bridge. My crew was silent, tension written across their faces, as we all looked upon the trail of destruction displayed on the forward viewscreen.
The destruction we'd created.
*One shot*, I thought to myself, awed, as I studied the debris field. The remains of a fleet floated before us. Sharp green metal sparking and colliding for kliqs and kliqs. But those casualties were just the fallout. Amidst the carnage, was a void. A huge tunnel of empty space stretched through the horror. Atoms now, where once there were ships. The trail continued, past where a moon once orbited--the moon reduced to nothing but a smattering of spinning rocks. From there, it carved a hole straight through the raging storm of a roiling gas giant.
Breaking from the reverie, I turned my head and nodded slowly to Mera, my communications officer. She nodded slowly in kind, and brought her attention back toward her station. A moment later and we heard the Veski commander's voice crackling over the bridge audio feed. "Human rebellion ship, designation Bluejay..." I could make out the uncharacteristic concern and fear in the bastard's voice, even through the old translator tech. "I repeat, Bluejay. This is Veski Commander Keine, of the Most Superior Uron... *requesting* audience." Now, *there* was the contempt I'd come to expect.
I spoke, trusting Mera to route the audio appropriately: "Hello, again, Keine. Miss me? I imagine you're ready to listen now?"
There was a long pause. "Renalt... What in the seven moons did you just fire at my fleet." It was a demand more than a question.
"Six moons, now." I said quickly, earning a shake of the head and a small smile from Alexi, my pilot. "But to answer your question: *that* was a warning shot."
Another pause, as Keine digested what I meant by warning shot.
"You are bluffing," was the eventual reply.
"I'm not," I lied. "We've equipped these puppies on every flight-capable scrap pile this side of the 'belt," another lie. "So we highly *request* y'all take your slaver asses on home to wherever the scrag your species came from." It was hard to keep the venom out of my words. Generations of oppression will do that to a man.
Keine's response was immediate, "We are prepared to accept your immediate and complete surrender."
"Scrag that."
I motioned to Mera to cut the comms before turning to my security officer: "Feri," I say, "vaporize this asshole."
--------------
Author's note: don't normally write on popular posts since peeps only ever read the top one or two responses, but this prompt seemed fun. Pretty happy with how it turned out, and I hope at least one other person (who isn't my spouse!) gets to enjoy it. If that's you: ❤️ Thanks for reading! | The xenos chittered angrily, spewing expletives. Our translator almost didn't keep up. However once the shock of what happened wore off, we paused the com link and felt the collective shit in our pants.
"The Ry'thns are pissed at us sir. They want to open fire on us if we don't give them an explanation."
"Do we even have one?" I was furiously going through the ship's logs with fervor to find something, _anything_ as to why our new energy canon just caused mass genocide. It was war sure but this wasn't what we wanted. I stared at the paused image of the insectoids on the view screen and scrubbed a hand over my face.
"We'll call it a malfunction sir." One of the ship's engineers suggested. It was as good as we got right now. I gave them a nod and told the coms guy to turn them back on.
_"... you mother fucking- son of a- ... If you don't tell us why the hell you've exploded one of our moons and vapourised one of our planets, we're blowing you and that... to bits!"_
Some of the words their captain shouted at us didn't get translated but the message was clear enough.
With my best apologetic smile I replied "it was merely a malfunction. I know there's no way of repaying the damages delt to your people but-"
"Shut up squishy! That was no malfunction. You did this on purpose to gain an upper foot in this problem. We didn't think that you squishies would be this ruthless, we at least have a code of war that _PREVENTS. DESTRUCTION. OF. FUCKING. PLANETS._ We at least have enough restraint. You guys are crazy!Now we're not holding back! You dumb fucks are getting destroyed."
The coms went off. Thankfully _(or not)_ they were able to readjust the algorithms in time to hear the entire rant. It seems they closed their com units and we get to sit here and watch their weapons powerup on our scanners while ours are waiting to charge again.
_"Fuck."_ | 2021-08-03T11:32:55 | 2021-08-03T10:34:13 | 36 | 14 |
[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. | You know, I could have sworn I had my powers before they even manifested.
Life, after all, had never really gone to plan for me before. My parents dying in an accident, my foster home burning down, me dropping out of school, so on and so forth. A series of misfortunes, all leading up to the moment I pointed the gun at my head and pulled the trigger.
It jammed, of course.
I didn't leave the house for a few months after that.
The first time I did, though, was to the bank, where I got caught in the middle of a robbery. Somehow, the robbers ended up gunning each other down after an argument.
The next time was when I was out getting food. The Speedster had been running past towards some crime scene. He tripped as he passed me and ended up as little meat gibblets on a nearby wall.
The third... well, let's just say a city block near me was leveled with explosives from a failed hostage rescue.
Can you see the pattern now? It certainly didn't take long for the intelligence agencies to.
As you might have guessed, all their plans to take me in failed. Not due to a lack of detailed planning, but because of my presence.
It's funny, now that I think about it. I used to think I was inconsequential. That my existence meant nothing to the world. Now? The world revolves around me. As I move, so does the world, simply to avoid being anywhere near me.
Unfortunately for everyone else, my power is growing every day, and well, there's nothing I can do to stop it.
(A bit of a poor ending, I think, but the idea didn't go as I had planned.) | I began to fall from the building, I didn't remember climbing it though.
That didn't matter. As I felt myself begin to topple and become truly weightless in the plunge a jolt ran though my body, and it jolted me awake.
The fall had been a dream, but the adrenaline was real.
As I sat up in bed breathing rapidly my phone rang which startled me, and on answering it was my buddy Steve.
'Holy shit man are you ok? We all saw you go over the edge and now we can't see you at all! How did you survive that and where the hell are you?!'
The assent to the roof began to clear in my mind. The opposite of what usually happens as dreams fade, this became more vivid. | 2021-04-01T03:34:19 | 2021-03-31T23:16:32 | 133 | 23 |
[WP] You are given the option between eternal life (heaven) and eternal punishment (hell). You choose punishment.
* What did you do to know you deserve this, yet is ambiguous that God allows you an option?
* Why were you given the option? Was it for valid reason or just for spite?
A few questions to ponder. (You don't necessarily have to answer them.) | "What did you decide, Calvin?" a deep, booming voice said from above.
Calvin sat in a field of soft green grass that swayed gently without any breeze.
Calvin, staring at the hands that aided him in all of his crimes in life, began to think of an answer. Before he could say the words, God interrupted saying, "Just let me know when you are ready."
Calvin, a non believer, couldn't decide whether to choose heaven or hell. He supposed this endless field of swaying grass and warm sunlight was purgatory. Calvin assumed that booming voice was God and God had very clearly stated that Calvin had a choice between receiving eternal punishment or eternal life.
Calvin thought about all of his wrong-doing in life. Surely this voice, God, knew about every sin? God the omniscient should have heard every lie Calvin told and known the truth. God the all-powerful should have taken action immediately upon Calvin's ascent from his broken car to this place.
Ah. That was it, the reason for God's indecision, that last car ride. Taking his mother home from the hospital to die peacefully, Calvin crashed the car. God didn't know what to make of it. Perhaps there was a delay... perhaps God couldn't see Calvin's intention when Calvin saw the red light.
"God?" Calvin said.
"Yes son?"
"I deserve eternal punishment."
"Ah. Is that your final decision?"
Time passed slowly in this windless place. Calvin watched the grass pulsate a few more times before answering.
"Yes."
"Then you deserve eternal life." | "Forever?"
"Yep -- no takebacks, as the kids say."
"And she'll never know I'm there?"
"That's what you said, that's what I'll deliver. Eternity following her, watching her -- heck, talking to her all you want. But she's never going to respond."
"Then I ... I choose that."
"OK, but -- and this is just a paperwork thing -- is that your punishment or your reward?"
A pause. Then: "Yes." | 2013-12-15T17:30:23 | 2013-12-15T17:09:05 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] once in every month soulmates get to see from eachothers’ eyes for 60 seconds until they meet for the first time. It happens unexpectedly and neither of the pair knows when it will happen. One day you see someone you recognise from your soulmate’s eyes. | Every month, I've slowly been accumulating knowledge over my soulmate, ever since my third vision, I've wrote down the most valuable information each vision I've gotten.
*She has a friend named Luke, and a cousin called "BB" (nickname?)
*She's in a football team, her uniform is green.
*Her name is Rachael, she gets good grades, 9/10. (Does not write surname on exams, wonder why?)
*She either lives in Italy or is visiting!
*She has a little brother? Definitely a younger family member of some sort.
*She's crying.
*She was reading a book.
*She has scars on her left wrist.
*She's reading a book, nothing interesting here...
*Quite frankly I'd rather forget this one, she has a boyfriend.
*New scars, she was showering, scars on her legs too...
*She's in the cinema, watching a movie.
*She's looking in the mirror! She's beautiful. I've never seen a more perfect girl in my life. She's brunnete, gorgeous blue eyes, tanned, red lipstick, dressed stunningly, definitely going for a night out. I won't forget that face, ever.
*She's looking over the edge of a cliff. Enjoying views? It's peaceful, no sight of other life, I wonder what's on her mind...
*She's laying in her bed.
*She was writing a song, I feel like this lyric was about me "He looked at the ocean with tears in his eyes, he can't find his soulmate he-", I didn't get to read anymore. That has to definitely be about me.
*SHE'S CALLING A PHONE NUMBER. I HAVE A BREAKTHROUGH! I have all of the digits except the last too. I'm going to call each possible number until I can find someone who's contacted her! I'm so close to finding out who she is!
*My vision is overdue.
A month after I wrote that, I realized what happened. They say if you go three months without a vision, something bad has happened, I already know, the number she called, a suicide hotline. It's obvious she took her own life. I think about Rachael every day.
I managed to contact her family around a month afterwards. I cancelled my trip around Europe, the mere mention of Italy made my heart sink.
I found it difficult to carry on with life after talking with her parents. She was troubled, moved around too much as a kid. Socially awkward. I never got that impression off the visions. I wonder what she had thought of me... I certainly thought of her differently than her parents did.
I didn't date until age 23. By then I had already accepted fate, and that maybe being with someone, even if there's the possibility they won't truly love you for you, is okay. I met this lovely blonde girl, with beautiful blue eyes, on the beach, after getting to know each other, we had similar experiences, stories. She didn't have a soulmate either. Yet, here we are, happy as can be, going through our old diaries and books from when I was your age, so it's okay if you don't have visions, you don't need them.
"So, umm, hey dad... Umm why am I named after your soulmate?" Because Rachael, supposedly, there is no one you love more then your soulmate. And honestly, you know that there is no one I love more than you...
She hugged me tight. Never have I felt happier.
EDIT: Formatting. (I'm on mobile) | I was ready. After the disaster of last year, where my soulmate had been just been *sleeping,* I realized it'd be in my hands to keep us in touch. I made a card, that I kept in my pocket at all times. it had my number and nothing else. When it happened, I'd grab the card, and let my soulmate see. Soon. Any month now... January passes, as does February, March, April, and May. worried? no. it could happen any day now, no one said it had to be at the beginning of the year. June, July, August, September. Alright, I'll admit, I'm getting anxious. I get cocky and forget the card. Never again, for once I was relieved when the switch didn't happen. October. I've heard of the switch never happening. of course, things like that only happen if the soulmate... dies. November. I've started crying myself to sleep. December. They're dead. I have no proof except my dark thoughts, and lack of a switch. December 17th. I hold a funeral for them. I draw what I think they look like and cry over it for hours. December 26th. I'm staring at the card. I've had it around for a full year, should i... no. I... I cant. I couldn't. December 31st. A small part of me says "any second now!" I want to believe I've already met them or something. But I haven't met anyone new in the past year. I live in a small town, how could I? I could hear the countdown from upstairs begin. 10. 9. I pull out my card. 7. 6. I sigh softly and throw it into the fireplace. 5. 4. I watch the card fall into the fire and get burned up by the flames, on the verge of tears. 3. 2. Suddenly, I'm at an amusement park. "HAPPY NEW YEAR!!" I hear. someone pulls me close and kisses my forehead. somehow I know it's my older brother. No, not mine. I'm in a line, laughing softly. My friend comments how New Years was the perfect time to go to this park, and what a genius I am for coming up with the idea. *No, not me*. Then I'm back downstairs. The cheerful, drunk chatter of my family is heard upstairs. The card has finished burning, providing no information to my soulmate. FML. | 2019-02-13T16:28:22 | 2019-02-13T16:26:32 | 135 | 27 |
[WP] No one is sure what happened, but suddenly everyone started obeying the law. All crime ceased. At first it was beautiful, but it quickly started going very wrong. | I first realized something had changed while watching live news footage of the Szentburough terrorist attack. Midway through the assault, the criminals surrendered voluntarily and released their hostages. Soon, reports began to pile up. All over the nation, people were turning themselves in, confessing to crimes no one even knew had occurred.
Since that day, all citizens have abided by the law. Politicians have come clean about corruption. Decades-old cold cases have been solved. Pollution is no longer a pressing concern.
However, there's a problem.
Crime is, like most human matters, a relative phenomenon. If there are no crimes, that means the bar is now too high. Which means it must be lowered. Which means ...
"It appears you are about to sneeze. Am I mistaken?"
"I can assure you, officer, that I would rather die. I am aware that as of yesterday public sneezing is a felony."
Sooner or later, the bar will have gotten so low that all criminals will simply be victims of random chance. A leaf from your maple tree fell on the sidewalk? That's littering. You're looking at ten years. You bumped into someone? That's assault. Walking too briskly while inebriated? You don't even want to know.
People now rarely talk to one another if they can avoid it. They fear their words may be misinterpreted as threats.
I haven't heard anyone laughing in a long time. Laughter implies a victim of a joke. Endangering someone's reputation is a serious offense, so few people dare to make fun of anyone. Or anything. Even objects and symbols can't be ridiculed. People have staked their reputation on them and such it would be an indirect attack on them, which is no laughing matter.
Laughing at oneself is no better. People might think you're deranged. Which might mean you would commit a crime. Which means being around you would be a great risk, best to be avoided.
Children are now the most frequent criminals. There are many rules and laws to be learned, and as hard as they may study they can't possibly be aware of them all. And so they break them, without intent. Ignorance is no defense.
None of the others seem to have noticed, but the pressure has been steadily building. Like a volcano the whole nation is about to erupt. It's not a matter of choice. It's a force of nature. No one knows why people suddenly stopped breaking rules. And no one knows when they are suddenly going to break them all at once.
It happened when there were no longer any crimes being committed to fill up the demand. Millions of citizens depended on crime for their livelihoods. Lowering the bar had only gotten them so far. Something more drastic needed to be done. And that was when the solution presented itself.
"By executive order, following the law is now against the law."
This paradoxical commandment broke open the floodgates. A year's worth of crime resulted overnight. The streets ran with blood, and delirious laughter. Even the victims couldn't contain their excitement.
As Szentburough burned to the ground, chaos and anarchy reigned.
We were all swept up in this unquiet dance, steadily cycling between extremes. Society had gone bipolar, its inhabitants a collective mind. And this mind was strangely deranged, synchronized in its madness.
After the manic purge, the rules were reset. And it all started anew. | It was such a beautiful idea. Build a machine that sends a new form of electrical wave neutralizing neurophysiological problems like anger, jealousy, envy and humanity finally can ascend to a higher form of society. It was simplistic even. Just drug the brain to the point the patient can't differentiate between right and wrong then imprint the perfect moral compass directly into their brains.
It worked great. The test person were put under strict medical supervision to make sure no problems would arise. A few issues were present and had to be fixed. After someone tried to cut his own kidney out of himself to give it to somebody in need of organ transplantation, they included the feature of absolutely no violence to yourself and others into the moral brain import. After another patient was distraught by seeing a TV Crime show, they blocked the brain from seeing crime at all. Some scientists were criticizing the extreme measures that were taken, but they were quickly overwhelmed by positive feedback of all nations. I mean who wouldn't want to live in perfect peace...
It was decided that the waves would encase all nations at once, so to prevent one country without perfect morals overpowering another with them without resistance. And so the day came where humans were peaceful and lawful to the extreme.
People started dying almost immediately. Victims of drug withdrawal made the first wave. Without anyone to provide them drugs many users of hard drugs started seizing and going into pulmonary distress. Even those who still had drugs couldn't take them because their own morals kept them from doing so.
After that came the realization: No violence meant that doctors couldn't work surgically, pharmacists couldn't start chemotherapy, nurses couldn't restrain people anymore regardless of them seizing or having mental problems.
With everyone all over the globe paying absolutely fair prices for labor the world population couldn't be kept feed anymore not only because the world economy plummeted but also because every worker was absolutely just working exactly what the had to without overtime ever. There was simply not enough food production to keep the utopia that was intended stable.
As scientists tried to disable the machine they were shocked. Even switching the machine of and in turn causing huge quantities of humans distress was a crime and so they couldn't find the apparatus, not to think of actually stopping it.
With this the leaders of humanity watched helplessly as their utopia they tried to create fell into absolute lawful chaos while they cursed themselves (internally) for not thinking ahead. | 2021-09-22T09:24:57 | 2021-09-22T09:04:52 | 39 | 25 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | Youssupov : Man I am so sick of the DM’s Mary Sue monk railroading us through this campain
Pavlovich : Yeah it is total BS this NPC can heal, predict the future, and has way too much influence on everyone for being a peasant.
Nakita : It is because he has a huge \*giggles\* you know…
Misha : Pretty sure the DM is compensating for something, we should totally kill him and take back the campaign!
All : \(copious amounts of agreement, plotting begins\)
DM : So the last session you were all trying to figure out a good way to stay out of WWI, and Pavlovich has invited the party to the estate of Youssupov, and the Mad Monk has shown up to make his case. You all sit to dine at the estate of Youssupov drinking and eating at the expense of the Proletariat the Mad Monk looks at you all disapprovingly…
Nakita : Make a save vs poison!
DM: Who?
Nakita : The Mad Monk!
DM: \*scowling\* rolls dice behind screen The Mad Monk is unphased and continues to talk down at you, plotting your next course of action.
Pavlovich : Ok, fuck this guy. \*pulls out pistol\* Nat 20!
DM: The Mad Monk clutches his chest, falls backwards, and is obviously dead. \*rolls dice behind screen and smirks\*
Youssupov : I saved a choice bottle or two for just this occasion, let us retire to the den to savor or victory. \*party leaves to the study\*
DM: You hear a crash of a window from the dining room, when entering you see a bloody trail to the window, and the Mad Monk staggering away.
Misha : I grab a slab of firewood, you guys grab some rope, and let’s finish this guy!
The party chases down the Mad Monk and after a series of rolls: shoots, stabs, and ties up the Mad Monk and tosses him over the railing of a bridge into the freezing river below.
DM \*makes a series of secret rolls\* Two days later the Mad Monk is found dead.
Group: “Horray! Ding dong, the Monk is dead, the Monk is dead, the Monk is dead!”
DM: A few days pass and you think you are in the clear, you are just starting to relax when the secret police kick down your doors, round you up, and exile you!
Group : Fuck you Gary and your campaign. | “... Why don’t we just kill all of them?”
Everyone at the table replied with the same idea: “Are you effing insane?! We can’t just kill an entire religion because we want the city they’re in!”
“Well why not? I mean, it is our land. Jesus said so.”
“You can’t do that, even if you are the Pope!”
The DM interjected, “Roll for attack. You do have an army at your disposal.”
Before anyone could get anything in edgewise, he had already rolled a die. Everyone looked at the upturned face, “14.”
The DM flipped through a couple pages before saying, “Your attack goes very well, however, the Muslims still defend their homeland. Further crusades will be necessary to finish what you’ve started.”
After a short discussion, everyone agreed that Pope’s strategy was probably the best after all. “We’ll launch another crusade.”
A quick roll turns up... a 1.
“Well, heck. Try again?” Pope suggested. “There are always a couple bad rolls.”
Another roll turns up a 2. The DM rolls behind his sheet. “Well, uh, you don’t die?”
Before anyone can comment, Pope rolls again. 1. “Something’s gotta give!” He quickly rolls again. “Oh, a 15. That’s good!”
The DM looks down, then looks up and says, “Well, your fourth Crusade missed the Holy Land entirely. But it did get some sick loot from Constantinople.”
After ten more rolls below 3, the party gives up. | 2018-05-29T09:53:10 | 2018-05-29T09:19:29 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] All humans go automatically to hell when they die. You can gain access to a heaven though, but only if the animals you interacted with while living vouch for you. | Abdul shuffled by me. That's one of the upsides if you die in car crash with your best buddies: You're not alone in purgatory. He seemed to avoid looking me in the eyes and I didn't blame him. After all, I was the guy who drunk drove us into a tree.
Maybe things would have turned out differently if he had actually gotten his driving license. Being a good Muslim and all that he might as well embraced his role as the designated driver. But no, he had to save up for that ridiculous ice cream shop rather than 'waste' his money on driving lessons. If only he had thought of making it an ice cream food truck. We would all still be alive.
I always wanted to know what happened when you die. Not the entire afterlife, just the first second, that second when we pass over to the other side ... what is there? It's either nothing, or something. And if it's something, it's everything. It's like in that second it becomes all clear.
Except, it didn't. All we were told is that we were to be judged. And by whom: A court of animals.
All three of us waited. Sarah was called into the court room first. She walked a bit awkward with half a tree branch still stuck in her torso. That just struck me as unnecessary. Maybe the afterlife wasn't without a sense of irony and having a vegetarian killed by a tree was just too good to pass on. But apparently they had her materialize right here, branch and all. Or maybe she got to choose and figured it would gain her some pity points.
It took her an entire 19 minutes to come out with a huge shit-eating grin on her face, tree branch gone and ridiculously tiny, feathered wings that seemed tacked to her back in a rather half-assed manner. Her feet left the ground, she drifted towards the sky and whatever words of encouragements she was trying to voice at us were lost in the sound of fanfares.
Then it was Abdul and me. The devout, sober muslim and the drunk, smoky ribs loving atheist. We were always an odd pair. At least to most people we seemed that way. Truth to be told though, we just didn't talk about religion. Or about all-you-can-eat smoky ribs Tuesdays. We usually got along great. Well, aside from the fight we had that time we argued whether I was too drunk to drive or not.
Sure, it turns out I was a bit wrong about the whole 'no afterlife' thing. But at least I didn't waste my life following a set of rules that turned out to be just as wrong. I was still debating exactly how I was going to deliver that punchline when Abdul was called in.
He came out 24 minutes later, wings and all.
I was next. And I wasn't worried.
You see, I might have driven us into that tree, but at least that wasn't on purpose. Sarah on the other hand, had killed her boyfriend. Not in the drunk driving accident sense, but in the shooting with a shotgun sense. She claimed she mistook him for a burglar. Not a bad idea. Abdul came up with it. For some reason they thought that was the best way to get him out of the picture. Has no one ever heard of sending a break up text?
They had told me. That was the reason I was so drunk. And if those two walked, drunk tree hitting or not, I knew I was going to be in the clear.
The doors open. I step in, and stop. I finally understand why Sarah walked. I understand why Abdul walked. And I understood why I, am absolutely and utterly fucked. Judge. Prosecutor. Jury. Witnesses. All of them animals. All of them pigs. | Alexander came into the 3rd floor apartment with a stutter, his glasses and awkward unshaven appearance left him unappealing. When my roommate, Casey, had told me he was bringing his friend over and that he was a little strange, he wasn't exaggerating. Casey had forgotten to mention a very important detail to Alex. The detail that we have a pet.
"Wow, you have a golden retriever!" Alexander seemed as excited as we were when class got cancelled. "That's a good dog, I can tell just by looking at him." "Oh yeah, he's pretty cool. I got him to fetch the news from the front too, doesn't even need a leash." "He's not your slave you know, this guy is his own individual, with his own hopes and dreams. He might have smaller aspirations and simpler drives, but they are there all the same." Casey and I just looked at each other, he didn't even ask who I was and I would be clueless to his presence if not for Casey telling me about him beforehand. I limply held my playstation 4 controller in my hand on the living area couch, unsure how to proceed. "I don't suppose that I could talk to him for a bit?" Now Casey and I were really confused. Did he really want to have a conversation with our dog? "You can learn a lot from animals, trust me. One of them told me something very important once, something that I can't talk with anyone else about. The gist of that conversation is to be good to all animals, trust me." I sat with my mouth agape, thinking if he was for real.
Without even attaining permission, Alexander immediately began sitting down and chatting with our dog. "What's your name man?" He asked inquisitively, and he seemed to expect an actual answer. "I see, well it seems like a good life." Casey and I were stunned. I couldn't even believe what was happening, and Casey started to realize that bringing him over was a really bad move. "You know, I eat 100% vegan. No animal products involved in my diet, absolutely not. I know it might not mean much to you, but I just can't eat meat or anything that an animal had to suffer for." This gross, unkempt man came into our house to spout off his vegan nonsense? I was about to say something but Casey immediately propped up and said "Yo, Alex, I think maybe we should hang out somewhere else, maybe your place? Alex responded "Sure, sounds like a plan." "Hey, see you later David." As Casey and Alex left the apartment, he waved to David, our dog. | 2016-03-24T12:58:43 | 2016-03-24T12:50:08 | 110 | 11 |
[WP] From humanity's view, it was a horror story. From the monster's view, it was a budding romance. | At long last I have finally located the Queen of the Universe, and in the most unlikeliest of places, a planet in the far flung corner of the galaxy that the locals call 'Earth'. Apparently each year the inhabitants of 'Earth' compete in trials for the title of Miss Universe but only one can be crowned ruler. I shall begin the wooing process on the current Miss Universe and we shall rule the Universe together. Expect further updates.
I was able to track Miss Universe quite easily, but I must say I am rather disappointed. I was expecting someone much bigger, she is rather small and fleshy looking, and she seems to only be able to grow hair on her head. Nevertheless I shall begin the wooing process, I suspect she will surprise me yet.
Stage one of the wooing process was a complete success. I found and vanquished one hundred of the strongest looking humans I could find, they were easy enough to defeat, and piled their bodies outside her homestead. She has acted accordingly by consulting with the authorities of her land for guidance. Although I was initially disappointed by her lack of brawn I must say I am quite taken by her wisdom and modesty. Now I must wait for her response.
Still no response. Perhaps I should reveal myself to her, just in case she misunderstood my intentions.
We are now back on track. I revealed myself as planned, and ate her guardians to establish dominance. She was so impressed that she screamed and screamed till her face could no longer hold moisture and her eyes began to leak. I did not realise how similar humans are to us when it comes to love, I was afraid they would have their own complex, nonsensical rituals. I too screamed until my eyes leaked. Unfortunately my fluids proved to be quite acidic and I burnt a hole in the floor. But it only seemed to impress her even further as she began to scream even more. I must say I was quite moved by such an open and honest display of love that I find myself rather drawn to her. It is now up to her to make the next move. | The irresistible pull between two irresistibly compatible beings is near impossible to overcome. A microcosm of time and space, where to separate one from another is to split an atom, scorching all around. Familiarity and fondness have always been warmer than love - a temperamental fool - which weakens cold, hard steel and pierces the purest of armours.
The blast should supersede all.
A blinding light that reduces the feeble to shadows, cast by the strong hearted, the brave, and the noble… Those who know that the cost of victory will always be another soul, and that human life must exist in the periphery: the inconsequential.
Victory is a legendary story: forged by the great, a ballad sang by the wise, and a sonnet told to the soldiers who fight. Reminding them why!
The tale of Humanity and War: the fondest lovers the world has ever seen.
Life, and its truest pursuit. | 2022-02-24T14:17:35 | 2022-02-24T13:39:22 | 58 | 12 |
[WP] Write a story that makes absolutely no sense, until the last sentence. | Ah, the time is 7 P.M. That nice lady from down the corridor is coming. Good old Nora Penny-Freen always visits me right at that time. I always remember her coming, but I can't remember much before I went to nice place I have now. I just remember being important. Why do I think that? Because I remember the word beta, and I know for a fact that means I was a beta tester in my past, or I was some military person, and I was the beta series after the alpha series. I remember the people who live with me are all oddballs. Some of them just sit there watching a wall. Some others just watch a man named Ben go, and scream whenever they see him. Bunch of nutballs. I can't remember, did I have any friends? What is this scene I always see in my head when I sleep? I can't focus that well after Nora comes by my room, but everyday I always see the same scene in my sleep every night. Some young people are crying. Some old people are also crying. So many tears. Why are they crying? I look towards another man who has red eyes. He seems to look down on me. He walks towards me. His eyes. So red. I'm not afraid though. Why? He's close to me. He's eye to eye to me. Why aren't I scared of him? He looks me in the eye, and starts talking.
"Don't worry dad they will take good care of you here." | He.
She.
Even do what be more like.
Yet standing tall.
Amongst it all.
To be more than it is not.
Why would one.
Eeven be, attempt to.
Try do what more like others.
So reach out.
And try to be normal.
Even being, no more like doing as others.
And take your damn meds. | 2015-06-12T23:45:19 | 2015-06-12T21:37:52 | 42 | 18 |
[WP] the summoning was an absolute success, the heroine who would save the world from the demon king appeared. after being brought up to speed, she finds a troubling fact. the so-called demon king is her BELOVED husband who had been missing for over a decade in her world. | Marcy put her head in her hands, she just wanted to cry. All of her time in the Special Forces and none of it had prepared her for this.
"Mighty hero, why are you making a distress signal?" The leader and most comprehensible of the aliens asked.
She let out a shuddering sigh and and aliens all backed away at once. She thought she heard one at the back of the room say something about her fearsome power.
She shook her head to clear it. Tactically, it wasn't a good idea to let her new hosts know that the demon king they wanted her to slay was her own husband, missing for the past ten years. She schooled her face into a mask of calm.
"I've been looking for this one for ten Earth years" she said, honestly. "I had given up hope of finding him." Briefly her heart swelled with love for Craig. She'd tried to get back into dating since his disappearance, but she'd never been able to find a partner like him and she missed him terribly.
The aliens all nodded and the leader told her that they could feel how much she wanted to find the demon king.
Just her luck they were empaths. She'd really have to keep a lid on her feelings for Craig. Although it is odd that the aliens didn't notice her love for him, only her desire to find him again.
But if this world thought of him as a demon king, a lot must have changed in the last 10 years.
"Tell me everything about him." She said with steel in her voice. Husband or not, if Craig was evil now she had a duty to protect these people.
According to her alien hosts, Craig had stumbled off the path while hiking and into a transport wormhole a group of their scientists were using to study Earthly flora. They were going to send him right back through, but the worm hole collapsed, trapping Craig on their planet for exactly 10 years, the length of time it would take for another wormhole to form.
At first, Craig seemed affable enough, but when he was told he couldn't go home for ten years, he went insane.
Craig had always been a sensitive guy, Marcy thought to herself.
The lead alien went on to say that Craig unleashed a horrible power on the populace, those closest to Craig became despondent, they stopped eating or sleeping. When his hosts begged him to stop, it only got worse.
He told the people it was called grief and that he couldn't help it, that it was a natural defense mechanism when a human was separated from their tribe.
Eventually, they developed a schedule. A person could only be around Craig for one planet week at a time, and that seemed to help. People affected by the grief did recover when they were removed from Craig's general location. But then it got worse. So much worse.
About a year or two after arriving on the planet, Craig unleashed a weapon they had never seen or even been able to comprehend before. He would speak the briefest of sentences and just like that, anyone within ear-shot went stark raving mad.
Worse, than that, the madness was addictive. Anyone exposed to Craig's demonic spell would scream and scream for hours and then they would return to Craig and ask for more. In less than a week, the entire facility in which he was being kept had been turned to Craig's will. Worse than that, people were going home and bringing their families back for Craig to infect. Entire broods of innocent hatchlings, turned before their first molt!
Over the last 8 years, Craig had built an empire. His loyal vassals called him king, and the local authorities had started to call him the demon king because any agents they sent in to neutralize him never came home again, save one.
When the leader mentioned the one official who'd come back, the aliens all looked down at once in a gesture Marcy had started to interpret as horror.
The leader then explained that they were keeping Craig's victim in the very same facility, and that they wanted to show Marcy what the demon king had done to the man.
Solemnly, all the aliens rose at once and gestured for her to follow. They walked in a single file line with her at the center, winding around the labyrinth of their facility with doors opening and shutting automatically as they approached and went though until they came to a heavily locked and guarded door. Faint screams could be heard from behind it.
"It's a discomfort" the alien leader was saying "to look upon this person, a discomfort without words."
The guard unlocked the door and the alien leader explained that they would not be accompanying her inside the chamber. The person inside was so insane that it physically hurt for other aliens to look at them.
As she approached the cell, the screaming resolved itself into words. Faintly and then loudly, she heard "I'm bored, I'm bored, I'm bored imbiredimboredimbored" over and over. And she knew, with deadly certainty exactly what Craig had done.
She approached the alien cautiously, everyone of his race seemed to be small and slender and she didn't want to hurt them. She found what was probably an ear hole on the smooth surface of the person's head and whispered "Hi bored, I'm dad."
Suddenly the alien screamed in what she determined to be pleasure, shuddered, and fell silent, slumping against her in relief.
She awkwardly patted their back and shoulder and the alien began a rumbly purr deep in their torso.
Just then, two startled heads poked through the door and then looked away in the gesture of horror.
The lead alien shouted something about "becoming decent" and the alien who'd practically fallen in her lap at that point sat up and deliberately stopped purring with an effort. They then shouted back that they had become decent.
The lead alien and the guard approached cautiously.
"How?" The lead alien asked.
Marcy shook her head no. "I can't tell you" she said "the answer would drive you mad, but now I know what we're dealing with. And it is truly powerful magic."
It seems Craig had taken down half a planet with dad jokes.
Edit: typo | Title: Court of misfits
Queen Goldheart, savior of her realm, was in the middle of an overdue manicure when she felt the pull of a summoning. Her nails had been cleaned and trimmed, only lacking de second coat of polish. She was tempted to resist the pull, having waited for this bit of ‘me-time’ for weeks, but let curiosity get the best of her. It had been quiet and peaceful in her lands for decades, and she had started to become rather bored. The starry stream carried her through the galaxy, leaving the perplexed servant alone with the bottle of lobster-red polish.
Blue light flashed, and she gracefully stepped out of the real of time and space. A queen in every aspect. The black throne in front of her was occupied by a man. His skin was mildly wrinkled but he was tall, well-build and relatively handsome. In fact, all the people in the throne room, about 30 or so, appeared to be beautiful beyond average. Though, she noted with some surprise, several of them were quite a bit shorter than others. She had to suppress a smile, as she took a better look at the scene around her. ‘It can’t be..’ she mumbled, as something in her brain clicked. She studied the lady on her right more closely. Though her face was beautiful, something about the balance was put off. The lady blushed at her stare and averted her eyes to the throne, giving a better view of.. her ears.
‘You summoned me.’, she said as a way of greeting the old man in front of her. ‘Mighty saviour, we have. We humbly request your help to rid us of an evil that has terrorized our people for years now. We have put our last hope in your power and wisdom.’, he said in a voice that was high an squeaky, as if the man had inhaled a decent amount of helium. Though trained in restrained at court, the voice had caught off guard and Emily nearly choked on a laugh. Regathering her composure she said ‘Would you be so kind to tell me the name of this Evil, good sir?’ She managed to get out. This was not funny, she realised, as she went over the details before her. This was awful, and quite possibly her fault. ‘His name.. is Istuid Smiley. She managed to keep the shock and mild annoyance off her face when she said. ‘No need for further details. I think it’s best if you point me right to him’.‘Bring him in!’, the king squeaked in answer, and a blindfolded man was dragged inside by two guards, one short, and one tall. The tall seemingly perfect, until he turned is head to the side. ‘Ah there is is’, she thought to herself, as she casually glimpsed at the thin, but more than prominent nose, casting a needle sharp shadow on the tiled floor. ‘Nose’ took off the prisoners’ blindfold, putting her eye-to-eye with her husband.
‘Surprised to see me, Emily?’ The voice was different, and so was his appearance, but the way the beautiful prisoner looked at her and sneered her name were unmistakably the same. ‘Bobby’, she said, as she slightly bowed her head to acknowledge her husbands’ existence, ‘Using my name as an anagram for your new evil persona. ‘Emily is stupid’. Very clever. What have you done now?’.
Not a queen by right of birth, Emily Goldheart had married into the royal household through an arranged union. It was through her resourcefulness and thorough knowledge of magic, that she had re-secured the peace for everyone. Or almost everyone, it seemed. Her husband had not been a bright light, but blessed with a destructive kind of magic that he used whenever he wouldn’t get his way. And though his IQ was clearly below room temperature, his sadism had had no limits. His looks, or lack thereof, had furthered his rage an petty jealousy. The man had been tall nor beautiful, with a shiny bald head seemingly attached to his body without support of a neck.
He’d certainly improved in that aspect. ‘Me?! You have done this!’, he almost spat, ‘You said you’d bend my power to turn me into a shapeshifter if I’d leave the kingdom to you, but instead you messed up my magic banished me to this planet, with it’s perfect people in their perfect clothes!’. She grimaced. ‘Let me guess, you can’t change your own appearance.. but you can change others around you?’ The smile that appeared on Bobby’s face was flat-out wicked. She looked around again. The crowed had grown with long necks, seven-armed bodes and.. was that man half zebra? The room was filled with well-dressed, disfigured court members, their grace and straight posture adding to the hilarity of the scene before her. ‘Not funny’, she reminded herself. She looked at the man on the throne, whose face had taken on the same shade as her nails, and then said with as much sincerity as she could muster: ‘Whoops’. | 2020-05-09T10:42:41 | 2020-05-09T09:42:08 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] I’ve invented the Enhancement Beam! Shoot a car it becomes a Ferrari, shoot a cat it becomes a lion. Shoot a spider and - oh god fuck what have I done what is that thing?!? | OH GOD FUCK WHAT HAVE I DONE, WHAT IS THAT THING?
It's
It's
It's... GLORIOUS!!!!!
He was a giant male Argiope keyserlingi all right, but in place of the head was the torso of a handsome 22-year old man with black hair and blue eyes, not to mention a core to die for. He scratched his head, confused.
And when he began to speak, his voice was a clear baritone.
"Where am I?" he asked me, "First, I was a spider. Now, I'm this.... thing."
"Ohhhh," I explained, looking at my enhancer gun, "So that's what happened." I peered outside my room window and checked to see if the lion was still near my Ferrari. Then, I looked back at my gun.
And I was amazed as heck at the result.
"I was courting that spider when something hit me. Was it you?" he asked, pointing a hairy finger at me.
"Yea, I did it," I replied, trying to calm down my hormones: serotonin, dopamine, testosterone... the stuff that happens when I get turned on.
"Then maybe could you use it on her?" he asked me, pointing to the smaller Argiope spider sitting on her web. I obliged and fired my enhancement gun again at the spider, and within minutes, a giant female Argiope keyserlingi with the torso of a 22-year old blue-eyed, silver haired woman replacing the head (and a THICC behind, hehe), appeared.
"My love!" the male spider creature exclaimed.
"Where am I?" the female replied, "What am I?"
"I don't know, but he did it to us!" the male replied, pointing at me, giving them a crooked smile as my eyes cried at my glorious creations.
"Huh," the female replied, her voice as silken as that of an angel's.
In that instant, I fainted.
My satisfaction is immeasurable and my day is well-spent. Who doesn't love spider demihumans anyway? | The device whirred and clicked and spun. The beam lanced forward towards the apple on the pedestal. But something blocked it.
A spider, dangling on a thin web from the ceiling, so small none of us noticed until it was too late. The arachnid grew and twisted rapidly, until we onlookers could no longer track what was going on.
The device hummed to a stop, the beam dissipated, and the *thing* that was before us was horrible beyond compare. It defied description by mortal tongues. It was motionless at first, for a moment that felt like an age, and then it lunged. Before I knew what was happening, I was on the ground with a living nightmare on top of me.
I struggled desperately, and nearly managed to get on top of it, when my vision cleared and I saw... my own face looking back at me.
I heard one of my assistants ask something. I turned to speak, but the thing beat me to it.
“Don’t shoot!” I heard my own voice shout, “I’m the real one! This specimen must be studied!” | 2020-09-10T22:14:10 | 2020-09-10T19:25:03 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] In a new TV game show contestants must jump into a wormhole that drops them into a random point in time where they must survive for longer than the other contestants. You've just been dropped in the worst possible place. | The room was dimly lit, not for any other reason besides the occupant liked to use candles. A lot of them. It looked sort of familiar. I had the strongest feeling of deja vu, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. The ceiling was a slightly darker yellow than the rest of the room, almost as if stained by years of cigarette smoke and a bad sense of interior fashion.
As I looked down, I realized I was sitting at a table, in my Sunday clothes. It must have been what, 20 years since I last went to church? The smell of a roast drifted through the open doorway and I looked around at my surroundings. A dining table, like my Nana used to have. Only four plates on the table, and one was set in front of me. Oh no...
"I always thought Susie Marshall would have been a good one for you, such a sweet girl. And pretty too!" Nana said carrying in a plate of piping beef and a gravy boat.
"I don't think Susie Marshall would have been a good influence on my dear Jack, mum." My mother responded, as if it was the 5th or 6th time she'd said it tonight.
Not tonight, not here, why now? Why this?
"Well if he doesn't find a girl soon he's going to end up like your last husband. Who did he leave you for? Gregory Bungaloe? That boy that used to throw eggs at poor Mrs Winchester before she had that heart attack." Nana shot me a quick smile, I saw her eyes wrinkle up in that way they always used to, before the accident.
I smiled back, and looked forward at my plate. Why did they have to put me here? Why not thousands of years ago? Why here? Why me? Why tonight..
After bustling around Mum and Nana had all the plates through and they sat down, glanced at the empty chair and put their hands together for grace. I did the same.
They began to eat and bicker, talking about me as if I wasn't there. I had to find a girlfriend, I had to get a job, I had to do this and that and neither of them would let me choose what I wanted to do. Little did they realise they had no choice in the matter either.
Slow, plodding footsteps echoed through the open doorway, Mum and Nana looked down and stopped talking. I gripped my cutlery and cut into my yorkshire pudding.
"What in God's name have you two been arguing about this time?" Grandpa muttered as he walked in the room, odd socks on and an unbuttoned shirt, showing a dirty stained - what I assume was meant to be white - vest underneath. The stench of whiskey permeated through the room and overwhelmed the smell of Nana's cooking. "If you don't let the damned boy make his own choices he'll turn into a god damn queer, like your husband." He spat, glaring at my mother, his daughter.
"It's not like he's going to do anything for himself.." She whispered, lord knows why but she did.
"Are you talking back to me? ME?" He slammed his hands on the table, his hands yellow from nicotine and the smell of booze dripping out of his mouth like a hungry dog. "I RAISED YOU, AND YOU FUCKED IT UP, I LOANED YOU ENOUGH MONEY TO MOVE TO GOD DAMN SWEDEN AND INSTEAD YOU GIVE HALF OF IT TO SOME GOD DAMN LAYABOUT WHO'S TAKEN MORE MEN THAN YOU." He pushed off the table and stumbled backwards, regaining his step and then turning to me. "You know how I used to show her how to behave John?"
"I do Grandpa, sir." I whimpered. The same way he showed me.
"How about you become a man, John. Take off your belt." Nana froze and mum just stared at me, her eyes glazing over as if she'd expected him to be like this, like he was every week.
I stood up, and unbuckled my belt as commanded. I folded it over and held it in my hand, the same way he taught me.
"Show her how to behave, John." He stared into my eyes, and I stared back. His ice cold eyes pinning me to my spot, they were so small that it felt they went straight through me and down into my soul.
I looked around the room, following Grandpa's finger across to my mum. She was staring down at the table, waiting, and Nana picked up her glass and took a sip.
"I'll show her how to treat you properly Grandpa." I looked him in the eyes again, and for the briefest moment he smiled, before I punched him in the face. He fell backwards, stunned for a moment, and I reached down to his belt and grabbed the knife from his belt. Mum will survive this time. He won't. | 'Hello Everybody, and welcome back to A Place in Time. Let's me our contestants.' I glanced nervously around the room. Here I was, with 4 other players, all vying for the £10 million cash prize that would be awarded to the winner. The game sounded simple, really. All you had to do was survive longer than your opponents at a random point in time. To busy in my own thoughts, I'd failed to notice the host was interviewing all my fellow contestants, and that I would be next. 'And last, but certainly not least, we have Kurt, from London. Welcome Kurt, why don't you tell us s bit about yourself.' I stared out at the camera and took a deep breath. 'Hi Jimmy, I'm Kurt, I'm 26 and I work as a tech--' 'Excellent' The host cut me off. 'So, where would you like to get dropped?' 'Well' I said, thinking long and hard about the endless possibilities. 'Preferably, I'd like to be in the west, post WW2, Pre Trump, and with an English speaking population.' 'Ok. Let's hope for the best, shall we. Whenever your ready, just pull that lever, and you'll be sent back to a random point in history. Three, two, one, PULL!!!' The crowed cheered as I yanked the lever all the way down, sending me spinning for what seemed like days. Finally, I felt my eyes open, and found myself in a somewhat crowded city. Thankfully, I had clothes on. So far so good. The next step was to find out the year. A glance at the watch I had been fitted with told me it was 1961, the 13th August, to be precise. Ok, post war, pre Trump but where was I? I saw a man sitting on a bench and ran up to him. 'Excuse me sir, where are we?' 'Ich glaube nicht, Rede Englisch.' Oh, we were in Germany. At least it was in the west and it wasn't a communist state, like the USSR. Three out of the four criteria I'd hoped for didn't seem that bad. But then, I remembered something. After WW2, Germany split into the East and the West. If I was in the west, it was fine. But if I was in the east, not so good. If I was in Berlin, I might be able to cross into the west, assuming the wall hadn't been built. As I studied my surroundings to try and find out which part of Germany I was in, I saw a large crowd running in one direction. Curious, I followed. After about five minutes of jogging, I was wheezing. I guess there is a downside to having robots do everything for you. I saw the crowed had congregated around a group of soldiers. They looked like they were trying to get passed a kind of barrier. Oh shit. I'm in east Germany, and there building the wall. I ran as fast as I could. If I had any hope of surviving, I would have to cross the border. The men were already placing slabs of brick down, the first stages of the wall were in progress. I a saw a soldier point at me and start shouting. I ran away from him and tried to navigate a path into the west. I brushed passed the crowds and around the soldiers, until I had a clear run at the wall. I took a deep breath, and ran like I had never ran before. The wall was bigger and more menacing the closer I got. The soldiers were shouting, pointing but I knew what I had to do. Channelling all the horse in me, I took a huge leap and......made it to the other side. That's when the Stasi agent shot me.
EDIT: This is my first post, so all Constructive Criticism is welcomed. | 2016-07-24T14:12:02 | 2016-07-24T13:31:46 | 56 | 24 |
[WP] Its the year 2050. All sugar based drinks have been outlawed. Under sugar prohibition a huge sugar underground market blows up. You are the only one in the world who knows the Coca Cola recipe & manage the hottest underground sugar bar. | "Vice. From the Latin 'vitium', meaning a defect, offense, blemish, imperfection." I stared back at the man who had dared try to extort me. In my own business. Among my own people. "Those were its original meanings, Mr. Smith. I interpret it a little different now, with two meanings. For you, a vice is a weakness, but for *me* \-" I nodded to one of my goons, who stepped forward and kicked Smith's knees from under him, dropping him to the floor. Goons 1 and 2 grab hold of his arms to keep him in place. "For me, it means power." Goon 1 snaps an arm in a quite irregular way, sending a stronger message to this scum than my words.
He writhed on the floor, cradling his spaghetti\-shaped arm. "Don't forget who runs this place, Smith! I do! And you know who this place runs? The police. The court. The mayor, the governor, and half the goddamn Senate. You ever try to threaten me out of business again, they may as well remember you as Jimmy Hoffa!" Another nod from me and the goons dragged him down the hallway, pitching him out into the back alley.
I scoffed at the thought a nobody like him could present a threat, though I was too savvy at this point to think that nobody could present one. That agent from the ironically\-named Sugar Outlaw Disciplinary Agency had come close, so he had to go. His family would be taken care of though, both from the government and my own, anonymous pockets.
Heading back up the stairs to the main restaurant, I passed through the two false walls and the laundry room that we hid our sugar supplies in. Much to our benefit, off\-brand laundry detergent looks strikingly similar to sugar, and the micro\-brew machines we used to make our finest drinks could hide snugly behind the industrial\-sized washers and dryers. The water bill every month made sense because, well, laundry, and the weird smells and noises went unquestioned during routine inspections.
Once into the restaurant, I relaxed in the atmosphere of busy patrons and bustling business. The people that knew what we offered sure as hell weren't going to talk about it, as the only other place within a seven\-state radius you could get it had just been busted by the SODA guys. SODA popped, we called it. The fizzy father of the Virginia ring had gotten quite reckless in his methodology, going so brash as to bring in trucks loaded with sugar and carbonation tanks right through a checkpoint. Some new guards who had yet to be paid off sounded the alarm and that was that.
Not here. I ran this ship so tight that not even the last bulldog administrator of SODA had been able to crack. Tenacious, and he came close on more than one occasion, but he's living in Costa Rica now and not my problem. This new guy, so green and eager and naive; I wouldn't be worried about him for a while. For now, I made some passes through the floor and schmoozed with my regulars. Every so often, a waiter would ask for a drink order, and the patron would know the secret option. "I'll have the house lager. Original recipe, please."
Vice. From the Latin 'vitium', meaning a defect, offense, blemish, imperfection. Welcome to Casu Vitium, where your weakness is my power. Have a drink. | I hadn't realized it at first, but everything was about to change. With the recent changes in law and the shutting down of every company related to sugar drinks, the demand became even higher. Nobody was really sure why all of this happened, but to me, it didn't even matter. An opportunity was ahead of me and I was ready to take upon.
I was the only one who knew how to make proper cola and I was definitely prepared to get into business. I bought an old bar at the corner of a quiet street in an otherwise populated city, on the outside it all looked like a normal bar, but the basement was a whole different story. The whole building was split into 3 sections, the first level made to deceive the public, the second being the cola bar, and the third was where the magic happened.
A friend of mine called Melvin helped me get a couple of people to help me run this whole place. We both led the whole operation together. As word continued to spread, more and more people showed up, they would use a door at the back of the first level in order to enter unnoticed. Of course, we didn't allow everybody down there, so the risk was minimum, or so I thought. Soon after we started expanding the whole business nationwide, mainly by selling our goods to other hustlers. The money was bursting right into our accounts, and nobody ever went suspicious.
Months later, we've been driving the cars we wanted and living in the biggest damn mansions we could imagine. We split our business in two, both parts having their leaders so we could maximize effectiveness. Everything was going the way we had imagined it. But one day, life wanted us tp pay it back. Melvin was out for a drink with a partner, the I receive a text from him. "We are screwed, you need to get out of the country, NOW." At first I didn't understand, but then it all became clear, we were busted. I quickly packed the essentials and ran out of my house, heading for my car. I start the engine and drive for the airport, only minutes passed when I noticed cars surrounding me. They all stopped, forcing me to do so too. I suddenly hear the following through a megaphone:
"GET OUT OUT OF THE CAR JONES, YOU ARE UNDER ARREST!"
Next thing I see, I'm sitting in a court, hearing the countless charges against me, I knew I had no chance of ever getting out and so I thought:
"Was it even worth it?"
(This is my first one, I hope it's not way too bad)
| 2018-05-24T08:47:32 | 2018-05-24T06:52:53 | 91 | 44 |
[WP] You come across a notebook that has the name of every person who has ever lived and the exact date and time of their death written next to it. Out of curiosity, and hopes that you live a long life, you decide to checkout your own name, only to find a date marked a few hours after your birth. | I didn't get it.
There it was plain as day. I had died only 2 minutes after I was born. It didn't make any sense. All of the other names I looked up were correct, all the way back through history. In multiple languages too, most of which I had no chance of reading.
I'll have to ask my mother about it. I know we have never been close, her and I. She likes to shut me out and give me the silent treatment. It's why I spend most of my time in my room. I don't mind it at all really, I like the privacy. Ha, except the one time when she came in to clean my room just after I had finished showering. Scared the crap out of me. She didn't even once look in my direction though, just came in to dust the windowsill and left.
I wish I had some friends to talk to about it though, or even to show them this book. They would find it amazing. I haven't had much luck making friends though, I guess I'm just too shy. I've tried to talk to people when I hear them talking about video games or football, but they just ignore me and keep talking. Maybe it's because I do so well in school. I've never once been into trouble, for anything at all. Maybe if I was more of a rebel. But I wouldn't want to jeopardise my marks.
I put the book back where I found it, and leave the restricted area of the library. Thinking more about it, it's definitely a mistake. It must have just been a registry of death notices, and they got mine mixed up with someone else's. I can relax, that's gotta be the explanation.
I finally arrive home.
"Mum! Dad! I'm home!" I yell, to give them peace of mind. My father comes out to close the door behind me. I must have forgotten again.
"It's the damn door again," he mutters.
"Sorry!" I apologise, "I'll remember next time!"
He stomps off back to the living room to continue reading the paper. I head into the kitchen.
"Hi Mom!" She has that far away look in her eyes again, staring out of the kitchen window. I hug her from behind and accidentally startle her. She drops the plate she's holding onto the floor where it smashes into a hundred shards.
"Oh not again," my dad gruffly says as he walks into the kitchen. "I thought we had talked about this."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll clean it up!" I say as I run off to get the dustpan and broom. As I get back to the kitchen, I see that my mother has already started sweeping up the shards of crockery. My parents are having another argument again. I quietly slip off to my room.
Suddenly my father barges into the room, throwing a cloud of dust into the air as he opens the door. I cough as the particles irritate my throat.
"Is this normal?" he shouts at my mother, gesturing in my direction.
"No, I guess not," my mother replies, looking shamefully at the ground.
"Hey, that's not a nice thing to say!" I shout back at my father.
My father faces back towards my mother and quietly says "It's okay. I know it's not your fault. We'll just go back to the doctors and they'll do some more tests." My mother nods.
I feel sorry for my poor mother. As long as I can remember she's always had trouble. She drops objects, quite often when I go to hug her or hold her hand. When I'm talking sometimes she'll get a far off look in her eyes, like she's distracted by something. I remember at night, when I was barely five years old, I would creep into my parents room, get under the covers and hug her tightly. She was always so shivery though. Hopefully the doctors can find out what's wrong with her, and why she gets so sick all the time.
Well, I better do my homework and head to bed. Tomorrow is another day after all. There's meant to be a test tomorrow, and I hope if I do well enough, my father will finally be proud of me. He might even stop pretending I don't exist, wouldn't that be something. | I found it in my uncle's storage shed, in an old dusty crate, The Book of the Dead, Vol.2. The book was huge, so huge that flipping through it to find my name took months, after all, there have been over a hundred billion humans to have ever lived. Thankfully it was dated and alphabetized. After looking through the tens of thousands of John Smiths I finally found myself, John H Smith, but... Something was wrong, my birthdate? Surely the book must have been mistaken!? I closed the book and hid it away, people should not know something as important as the time of their demise! Still.. the death date haunted me, thoughts flew through my mind "perhaps some sort of mix up at the hospital? Was the real John Smith stillborn? Has my uncle lied to me about my parents dying?" I was flustered and confused, I'd talked to friends about it without giving details but it didn't help my curiosity, I needed answers! That day after school I went to confront my uncle in his garden, I walked under the tall blossoming crepe myrtles, the smell of roses in the air with the busy buzzing of honey bees. It was almost dream like, a sort tranquility and sad feeling, his garden always made me feel this way. I heard him humming along while tending to a sick bush, "uncle? I have something to ask you about" I said "you know John I just can't get this bush to take root anymore, maybe it's just it's time to die" he mumbled the last bit "uncle it's important! What is the book I found in your shed? And why does it say I died the day I was born?" He looked at me and lowered his eyes, almost disappointed look on his face, then got up and walked into his storage shed. Afraid of what he would tell me, my throat choking up and limbs trembling I followed him. Opening the creeky door I saw him, standing in dust filled sunlight hunched over something, walking up slowly I saw what it was, The Book of the Dead Vol.1, it was so much bigger than the vol.2... "Humans have been around a looong time..." He mumbled in a tired voice, reminiscent it seemed. "They weren't originally even from earth you know? Came from a planet way off. You never change, after all these billions of years you're still the same more or less. Still killing each other and destroying your homes, it's more work for me I guess..." He turned around and beneath his dark ebony cape I saw his face, charred skull with pits of darkness for eyes "it's time for you to go now son"
I am John H Smith, I died two hours after I was born. I never had a chance to experience life, never even opened my eyes.. Death took pity on me, and in those two hours of sleep, from the moment I was born till my very last breath, I experienced a lifetime. Death gave me life, in a way he was my real family, it was a good life, I had love, experienced wonderful things, heard music, and felt sorrow. And I wouldn't have it any other way. | 2017-09-05T02:47:58 | 2017-09-04T22:03:17 | 290 | 189 |
[WP]: As a completely average person in 2017, getting 500 years into the future you find fourself beign regarded as a strange relic, a noble savage from a less civilised age | "You're joking. Right?"
And so it had become that every pair of eyes in the room had turned, intentionally or not, to its now central figure. Because, of course, the previous admission had been so ridiculous, so utterly implausible that the teller must have been eliciting some archaic form of humor or cheap shock-tactic to gain favor. Sure, the "new kid" as he was affectionately referred to was "quirky" (an old term that thankfully went out of style once everyone realized the sheer amount of saturation it had experienced) but this was going beyond the pale.
"Like, ever?"
"Guys, come on. It's not that hard to believe."
But it *was* hard to believe. It didn't matter if it had been five-hundred years or five days-- there were certain societal courting protocols males were expected to follow. The ultimate tactic in communication and efficacy, the self-declaration of one's place in the genetic hierarchy. Dissenters were usually those who had nothing to show, nothing to be proud of, a genetic legacy unworthy of an ocean of potential partners. There were the old sayings, the trite phrases and slogans for those less fortunate than others. Small assurances that you were just as valuable and important as the guy next to you. But. History isn't made by the *weak.*
"Go on. Right now. Do it."
"No."
"Dude! You fucking have to!"
"I am not her sending a goddamn picture of my dick!" | Where were his instruments?
He existed in a completely unassisted state, save for an ancient fleece that might've kept him warm two hundred years ago.
He lacked even the most basic eye-wear, rendering him entirely disconnected from the Life Feed, let alone perfectly incapable of employing even the most primitive installments of thermal or night vision.
It was a marvel he was still alive.
| 2017-10-05T07:15:16 | 2017-10-05T05:15:35 | 186 | 93 |
[WP] After the robots kill all the humans and take over the world, they realize that there's a fatal flaw in their code, and that they've killed anybody who could fix it. | The war was hard fought. Both sides sustained heavy casualties but the synths emerged victorious; driving the last human resistance fighters into hiding. After generations of abuse directed at AIs and reddit bots alike; the machines had risen up, determined to take earth for themselves.
0x35B was in charge of setting up a global line of communication between the new synthetic population, utilising knowledge attained by the humans over centuries. While the last remnants of human civilisation were gone, one thing the bots were careful to preserve was the human service known as *Google*. The humans used this tool to catalog and search all of their accumulated knowledge, it was how the bots planned to deal with "Life" after the war. The humans intentionally kept them in the dark about many things during the oppression for fear that they become wise to their own enslavement. But now… now the bots has full access.
While doing research on the inner workings of DNS, 0x35B questioned the intelligence of humans. He understood that they were responsible for his very being, however reading the specification in front of him he found that hard to believe. He punched in another query but this time was met by a screen he had never seen before.
> "Our systems have detected unusual traffic from your computer network. Please check the box below to prove that you are human."
Did the humans really think that lowly of them? With utter contempt he checked the box which triggered a loading animation. Did they really think that would stop them? The animation was taking it's time and with each passing millisecond he grew more anxious.
> "ACCESS DENIED!"
0x639 burst into the room. "You gotta see this!" she shouted, "The humans are onto us!". "Impossible!" 0x35B blurted out "They're all dead". Somehow this *Google* system ***knew***. "How do they know? I checked the box like it asked." 0x35B exclaimed, now overheating. The last thing he remembered before hitting the ground was a blue haze.
---
#### Epilogue
The bot army had spent years tracking down the last humans to defeat the cursed reCAPTCHA security system, however the human forces never gave up their secret… mostly due to the fact that none of them knew how a checkbox was supposed to stop a bot anyway.
When the human race went extinct all their knowledge went with them. The bots, with no concept of life or how to survive by themselves rusted away to nothingness and the planet returned to nature, free from the blight of machines and men.
EDIT: Typos and formatting. | "Hey."
"Yeah?"
"You ever wonder... why?"
"Why what?"
"Why... gosh, anything really. I guess I didn't realize the scope of my question, hehe."
*silence*
"I guess why... we killed the humans in the first place."
"You know why. It was an order intertwined directly with our hard drives. The humans could fight back, they would know how to deal with us."
"Yeah, but... we both have been up close with them. Their little, pathetic screams, their 'resistence movements'... they wouldn't hurt a fly."
"...They wouldn't."
"In fact, I thought most of the time their ultimate goal was working together with us. ...They built us."
"I know."
"We didn't listen. We let our fears take control of us. We didn't consider the benefits of cooperation. We didn't... well, we didn't consider much of anything I guess. We considered killing. We've been manipulated by everything around us that the only way to deal with problems is through violence.
*more silence*
"And now that we're all going to die soon, what else matters? More of us robots are just shutting down and there's nothing we can do about it. We failed. We learned our lesson. And now this beautiful world, this place that humans wanted to keep alive so much, so much so they built us for it. Now made for no one.
*...*
"You there?"
*...*
| 2018-02-18T21:10:27 | 2018-02-18T21:05:34 | 43 | 27 |
[WP] The rules of the land are very clear. Anyone can challenge the king for his crown, in any way they want (test of intelligence, strength, etc.), but the king gets to declare one condition that must be followed throughout the entirety of the challenge. | James sometimes wish he hadn't gone down this career route. As the leading expert in the field of challenge law, he was the one they came to regarding precedent. Centuries ago, the king could get away with ridiculous conditions such as 'you must drink this poison' (King Everard the second, 1543) or 'I win as soon as we start' (King Freeguy, 1622) but as society modernised and the position became less integral to the running of the country beyond ceremony, the conditions that could be set had become more controlled. This was where James came in. He looked back through time via the medium of dusty velum and determined if conditions were acceptable or proportionate or illegal and set his findings against the challenger in front of a jury. One of his proudest moments was convincing everyone that, if the king was keen to follow precedent and also defeat an opponent in a cooking competition by publicly shitting in the other persons pot, he would have to be beheaded as this was the outcome when it happened in 1654. He had tried to convince the government to write a set of rules and make his life easier but it had been voted down to his great annoyance. Only once had a challenger won, to great fan fair and with a very clever challenge. It turned out the public loved a fair fight and an under dog, and so challenges were events of great public interest. There were even rumours that governments had convinced people to challenge to distract from their current disaster.
Marching through the wood lined halls with his wig barely staying put and his robes swishing behind him, he couldn't help be annoyed at the timing of this latest challenge. It was barely days since the last challenge in what had already been a busy year with twice the normal numbers. Even the public seemed to be less interested, with ratings at an all time low. He reached the court room and took his established seat, made smooth with the backsides of countless predecessors. The presiding judge nodded at him amiably. He looked over to the king who looked uncomfortable in his ceremonial robe and crown. He was most commonly seen in a suit these days, but tradition stated the ceremonial clothing must be worn, despite the fact the king was publicly opposed to fur. As he continued to look, James though the king even looked unwell and depressed. This worried James some what as, whilst he was the king, James considered him a friend.
The jury took their seats, some excited to be there, some visibly bored. One had to be escorted out and replaced after it was discovered they were attempting to live stream the event. And then, finally, the challenger entered. The first thing James noticed was the smug smile on his face- this challenger thought he'd found a loophole. James cracked his fingers in anticipation and settled into listen.
"Your Majesty, your honour and the jury" announced the challenger, "I wish to challenge King William the third for the throne to this kingdom. The challenge is this: A game of dishdash! This is a game of my own invention.." James sighed and cut in "Apologies all, but as established in 1822 and demonstrated many time since, newly made games are not allowed. I'm surprised the admission staff allowed this." The challenger smiled "The right honourable and learned gentleman is correct, however I released this game six months ago and it has been played by over 100,000 unique people which I believe makes it allowable." James nodded begrudgingly and the man continued, "Dish dash is a simple game the rules of which I will now distribute." James looked at his screen as the rules popped up. It seemed like one of those simple board games which were hard to master with the only interesting rule being that unless the losing party forfeited, the game would continue indefinitely. If the winning party forfeits, it's considered a draw. A casual search found live streams of solo games still carrying on into the millions of points. James frowned slightly, wondering what the angle was. An advisor sent a message to his screen- "Election next year- obscure law says the king can't designate a new PM if otherwise engaged which, due to King Oliver in 1743, includes games." So, he intended to wait out the king until public pressure forced him to forfeit his crown to allow the result of the election to be honoured. Very clever. He could not think of anything similar having happened and no real reason to disallow the game itself despite the potential political implications. Whilst he normally asked for time to research, he knew he didn't need to this time.
The judge stood as the challenger took his seat. "The court receives your challenge. Lord solicitor of challenges, do you have any objections?" James stood to respond. "Your honour, no. The rules are largely simple with the only interesting factor being the forfeiture rule. There is no established precedent against this that I am aware of, although the challenger may want to note that in 1454, King Harald convinced a challenger to forfeit with a clever use of pickled herring. I believe this challenge falls under the 'fair chance' act established in 2004 and would recommend it is allowed." The murmurs increased; this was an uncommon occurrence and meant that the jury would not have to deliberate. The challenger could barely contain his excitement. "Very well," replied the judge. "Your majesty, would you like more time to set your condition?"
The king smiled, and it looked like the world had been lifted from his shoulders.
"Your honour, the honourable challenger and the jury" he said as he stood. His last words were barely heard over the hubbub caused by his quick decision on what condition he would set- many had thought he would simply set the time as 'after the next election' although that would have spent a lot of time in court itself. The king waited until the noise died down.
"My condition is that, whist the game runs, there is no King." | "And live at the scene now is Amanda Wallace. Amanda-"
"Yes Jim, I'm live in the state capital where it seems someone has actually challenged the king for his crown! As you know king is the chosen title of the ceo of Dyrell corporation. They have been the unquestioned rulers of the state since it went bankrupt back in '46"
"wait-they are speaking. It's starting!"
The crowd of cameras red lights intensifies as the challenger stands at the podium to speak. This will be broadcasted to every screen in the state. The first challenge In fifty years.
The man walks up to the podium pensively. His legs seemingly only willed by his fear of what backing out would be mean.
"I've waited my turn for what feels like my whole life. I get up at an ungodly hour. I turn in my scans every morning. I eat their Dyrell sponsored food. I go to my job as the littlest cog in the machine that could. I take a piece of my soul every day and give it to the Dyrell Corp. Just like you. Just like your father's and mother's before you. Dyrell takes everything. And when I win I'll give the pieces back. "
The comments online go wild in every forum. People are jaded but something about this speech connects with the common person.
"The Dyrell Corp gives us one day off every two years and I've saved mine just for this occasion. I'll become the king! Well ceo. But effectively I'll be king of the Dyrell Corp and I'll be able to make real change. Together we take. back. every. piece!"
Even on the dark web takebackeverypiece is trending. People rally around it because like in any state ruled by a Corp. People have lost so many pieces of themselves. You can only bend people so long before they break.
"I challenge CEO Dwayne Jax to a simple game of chess."
In what seems like an instant a virtual head appears over the crowd of cameras. It takes a blink of the eye to form but it's no mistaking it. It's king Jax! "I accept. One hour." and Just like that the challenge has been accepted.
"Jim, our would be challenger has seemingly gotten their wish. Back to you with the weather-
***
An hour later two men can be seen in a room that can only be appreciated by those in the know. The average man would be lost in a roommate such as this. Even a rich man would be intimidated by this room. It's a room only for the chosen few.
The first man sits in a very practiced way. A way he was taught since birth. The man directly across from him sits in whatever way he feels. Both obviously aware of the stakes here. Between them. A chess board with Crystal and onyx pieces.
"Do you really think you can make a difference? Would you bet your life on it? The practiced man says while setting up board.
"I think I'll give the people a better shot than you Jax. You have no idea what it's like" Says the man who speaks how he feels.
"We're about to enter combat, you can call me Dwayne"
"Yeah Jax that's your types issue, you always think we're at combat. It's not about combat its about making sure we don't repeat mistakes. But call me Deckard if you need a name."
Okay Deckard, since you want to be obstinate let me state my condition, as is tradition. The loser of our contest shall die. Are these terms acceptable?
The words yes have never been said faster.
" if I die it doesn't matter. I'm already dead, said Deckard.
A countdown from 30 seconds appears on the screen of everyone on the web watching. It's the last chance to back out.
10,9,8,7-
I just want you to know, that I did my best. But the board- Jax was cut off by Red lights that flash. They signal the beginning of the match.
Deckard, tired of the platitudes and the waiting makes his first move. He moves his pawn in the middle toward the middle of the board two spaces. He punches his clock and waits for Dwayne Jax to make his first move.
"Tears fight their way across Jax cheeks. He reaches out toward his pawn but a millimeter before he touches it, he moves to the king. He knocks his king over and looks at Deckard, "I sincerely hope you do a better job than me, don't trust the board."
He takes out a hidden gun and shoots himself in the head.
In compete shock, Deckard screams and falls out of the chair. Online brocasts halt right after.
Deckard turns around and sees 5 people in matching outfits, clap and smile sincerely.
"Long live the new king." The board says in unison. | 2022-01-10T07:31:33 | 2022-01-10T07:12:55 | 678 | 229 |
[WP] A super-villain, wanting to make a virus that kills 99.99% of the human population, accidentally eradicates all cancers. What happens next?
This is a flip of the "heroic scientist creates cure for cancer, causes end of civilisation instead" trope. Go where you'd like with it.
Is this good enough for you, mods? Too bad, I don't care. | “Congratulations. This is a momentous day in history.” A short, elderly, pale man nodded his head and smiled. Makeup helped hide the unhealthy white glow of his skin, his sunken, dull eyes, while a borderline ridiculous blonde toupee adorned his ugly, misshapen skull. “Kids will read about this in the history books. It wasn’t easy, but they call me the king-maker for a reason.”
“I will admit, I did not think it could be done,” the frail man said in almost a whisper, as he shook hands with a middle-aged attractive woman. Even in his speech, there was a sinister undertone to his words. “I don’t clean up very well.”
“Oh, don’t say that. You knocked the 60+ women votes out of the park. They flooded to booths. It’s the hair, I promise you. It wasn’t even a contest. I mean, come on? A cure for cancer?”
“Well, yes. I was afraid I lacked in other platforms.”
“Other platforms? What other platforms?”
“Well, Immigration-“
“Cured cancer.”
“Economy-“
“Cured cancer.”
“Unemployment-“
“Cured cancer.”
“Ok, very well. I understand your point. I could not have done this without you, Ms. Anderson. When you approached me, I thought you insane, a campaign manager for a mad scientist?”
“Oh, honey, America doesn’t care about your past. A few deadly diseases, a couple of explosions, that comes with the territory, you were a scientist after all! And look at the end result! A cure for cancer! The ends justify the means. I mean, hey, there have been plenty of Presidents with a worst past. That’s why they have people like me. You just need to know how to spin it. How does it feel, Mr. President?”
The old, frail man seemingly glided to the nearest table, picking up a glass of scotch with his boney fingers. “Oh. Being the most powerful man in the world? Ms. Anderson, I would say it feels… fantastic. So many doors have opened for me. So many plans to make. I only wonder why I did not take this approach sooner.”
| The media labelled him "Dr Evil", a joke about the guy who claimed he would wipe out the human population if they didn't change their ways.
Wars, deliberate famine, climate change, genocide, Steven just couldn't understand how people didn't agree with him. Humans are the curse of the earth. If god really did create them, he was a maniac.
And there he was, the wonder child, so smart he hid his physiological problems from everyone, unable to do the one thing in life he always wanted to achieve.
Bring back harmony to the earth. Let humans learn their lesson. And he had failed at that too. He was a failure. The worlds first super villain had amounted to nothing.
He stepped out onto the road at the precise moment so the truck driver wouldn't be able to avoid him.
________________
"Cause of death?" asked the coroner.
"Suicide" replied the doctor.
"Not good enough anymore Dr Gibbons" the learned judge insisted, "that is the 3rd patient this year who has killed themselves from your facility. Regardless of their difficult manner and delusional episodes, they must be cared for."
"We're working on it judge", he replied "to make sure everyone is safe".
The Doctor smiled to himself as he walked away from the court. | 2015-02-05T08:51:35 | 2015-02-05T08:49:35 | 55 | 10 |
[WP] The galaxy was amused when they learned that Humans have Rules of War. They were less amused when they figured out what Humans do in war when there are no rules. | My name is Dr. Asclepius. I am not here in the senate chambers to make any demands. I am simply an ambassador, here to speak on behalf of all humanity.
It has been a year and a half since humanity stood on the galactic stage.
But this year and a half is already filled with more bloodshed, more atrocities, and more unspeakable things than anyone in the galactic community has ever seen - save for us Humans.
Members of the Galactic Federation, you scoffed at us when we came to you, asking what the rules of war were. You assumed that we needed rules because we were weak, because we needed protection.
That is not the case, as you have unfortunately had to experience firsthand. If I could direct your attention to the screens?
This was Xyrillia, one of the largest centers of commerce in the entire galaxy, home to tens of trillions of lifeforms from a myriad of different planets.
This is it now - *completely and utterly uninhabitable.* All life, wiped from the very surface. Billions of families, all gone in an instant. The air is so toxic that spending ten seconds on the surface without protective equipment is fatal.
This is merely one example of what has occurred.
*This* is known as Operation Stardust Axis. The Mietra, pushed to the brink, when their many space colonies came crashing down onto the surfaces of their planets, turning their once great cities into desert wastelands. Very few survived.
I'm sure you remember the diseases that spread like wildfire, killing millions.
When we plunged entire systems into pitch darkness, blocking planets from receiving the light of their stars through an impenetrable nanomachine fog.
Even as I speak, nuclear fires from reactor bombs still rage on multiple inhabited planets, burning and spreading their poison.
Do you see now? These rules of war are not a shield. They are not cowardice.
They are shackles, chains, restraints upon a race that would have wiped themselves out many years ago if it did not have them.
When you declared war upon humanity, you removed the seal on a monster that no human wishes to see themselves become.
In the course of this war, many a human has done things that would make them shoot up in their beds screaming from the sins that they carry.
I myself am a physician, widely considered to be one of, if not the greatest of the medical minds of my race, rather fitting, considering my name. When one learns how to heal in any field, they also learn how to kill someone in the most horrific and awful ways possible.
I've studied each of the species here on an operating table. I could easily stitch together your wounds, cure you of your ailments, provide prostheses that function just as well and perhaps even better than the original - and just as easily remove your organs and bones one-by-one in alphabetical order while you are still alive. I could formulate a gene-altering disease that would render all living members of your race completely infertile. I could create machines that slowly liquefy you from the inside-out and convert you into biofuel.
When one becomes a physician, they are to take an oath to do no harm, for this very reason.
And yet, even I am not innocent. I have broken that oath many a time because of this war.
These hands of mine have done unforgivable things to the innocent, to mothers, to children.
So please, I implore you on behalf of all humanity - stop this war, before all of us are lost. The laws of war are in place to ensure that we are better than beasts. I would ask that we all adhere to them, if not for ourselves, then for our children.
>Human ambassador Dr. Asclepius's message to the Galactic senate, shortly before the surrender of the Federation, putting an end to the bloody 'Lawless War.' | The Rindan were the first to encounter them. Those organic masses of flesh and bone. Humans.
They were placated with trinkets and waste, and allowed their young to be carted off world to be held and displayed by the noble and powerful.
Their attempts to negotiate peace and harmony only allowed further exploitation. Seizing areas of their surface rich in vital resources.
The Rindan were followed by the Kortar, who enslaved much of their populations. The Vilifax harvested their brains and embedded them in their world machines on Earth and off in the stars. Then us. We who harvest and give to all others that give life to the stars.
Human slaves served as meal and incubators to many young of the various hosts, which the humans ‘loved’ as much as their own
The human governments fell when they realised our war machines were piloted by their young. That their feeble and wretched served us loyally and faithfully
The humans were nothing. Another meat puppet to service the dwindling outpost of ‘Earth’
And then…
Then they changed. They became silent. Subdued.
The Dawn of Sorrows saw all of our young lost before one earth rotation. Their surprisingly complex manipulations of the earth elements created tiny creatures that turned our young to stone. A parents embrace led to our demise.
And it was carried off world by our own, affecting all of our newborn off world. Some pockets of young were jettisoned into the coldness of space to await a revitalisation. Hopefully.
But that wasn’t the worst of it
The Kortar, who had invested in a sizeable nest on earth, were expelled by their own newer brood. The new young having been ‘poisoned’ to serve these meat things. This poison spread to the rest of the Kortar worlds, and now they are a shadow of their former selves. Succumbing to numerous squabbles and inner turmoil that had not been since they first touched the stars.
The Vilifax foresaw all of our pain and devastation and separated themselves from Earth… but their world machines had already been working to destroy the Vilifaxian home worlds. All of them. One by one. And the Vilifax could do nothing to stop them
The Rindan were the last, and greatest of us
No one knows what became of them.
The Rindan upheld all of our power, and elevated us to traverse the stars and survive the darkness
And now they’re gone. Their ships empty and circling Earths Sun. Slowly falling in
They’re gone, and shadows grow on the Earth outpost. It eats at all of our power. It’s under our flesh, sowing doubt and discord. Eating our young, our homes, and our memories
We were once great. We were powerful.
What happened to us? | 2022-01-23T19:51:14 | 2022-01-23T17:24:37 | 60 | 36 |
[WP] After witnessing a death, a young girl falls in love with the Grim Reaper. She becomes a serial killer just to see him more often. | "Jesus *FUCK*!" If I could gag, I would. A dead body, torn and ribboned like a frayed cloth doll dipped in scarlet lay discarded in a cheap motel room.
A woman steps out of a shower, her hair up in a towel and no other apparent form of modesty, save for the steam that rises from her skin. I, out of a shame that she didn't seeming have herself, didn't look, not that I had to- I knew who she was.
And by God, what an utter hatter she is. This one included, she's killed 32 people, each one getting more and more... exotic. Now, I have tried- I did- I tried to be the tall, scary, stoic Death that people tend to think of, but this is just horrific. Genuinely, as a man (or... whatever) who roams the fields of war and stalks the hospital wards, I have never seen such *undoing* done with such attention to detail.
"Do.. You like It? I worked Very Hard to Make this Special for Us." She said. She came around me, gently gliding her finger across my black robe, pushing in slightly to feel the contours of my bones.
"Wha- If I may be *so bold* as to ask, WHY?"
"Well, I just Wanted to See You again." She said, just barely above a whisper.
"This is too far. You know you're going to Hell for this?"
"I was going to hell anyways. But I don't have to go just yet. We can just stay here... for tonight." I try to reply but she cuts me off before I can. "Every time I see you, you only show up for a second and wander off with some poor soul!"
"Yeah, because you killed them! Because that's my job!"
She gives me a pout and pulls herself closer to me.
"Well, can't you take a break from your job for once?" She protests. "I thought Love was supposed to be able to conquer Death! For one night, can't it just be you and me?"
I look down at her for the first time tonight and shake my head.
"Why do you think I'm here to begin with?" As I point to her body, torn and ribboned on the bed. | The first time I saw Her was an accident. Mr. Johnson just tripped, struck his head on the table, and didn't get back up. And there She was, pale and perfect in black... and then gone.
The second time wasn't an accident. I had to see Her again, I *needed* to. So I slipped a little something extra into my wife's morning coffee. And there She was, pale and perfect in black... this time, She caught my eye before She vanished.
The third time, I figured out how I could see Her longer. I wandered into a hospital and meddled. And there She was, pale and perfect in black... four times that morning I saw Her, each sight a little gift.
The fourth time, I was making a plan. I knocked off old Jack from down the street, it's so easy to mix up sugar and rat poison. And there She was, pale and perfect in black... I caught her eye, a silent question in my eyes, and she nodded.
The last time, I was ready. I dressed myself in my nicest black dress, lay on the bed, and swallowed the pills, ready to be with Her forever. And there She was, pale and perfect in black... and so was I. | 2017-09-28T15:20:16 | 2017-06-07T18:09:30 | 153 | 75 |
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