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[WP] In a different age, Aliens invaded and were defeated by Cavemen, as a result they prepared for a second battle thousands of years in the future, when they expected humanity to be the most fearsome beings in the universe, they return to find society as it is now
EDIT: August 8th, 2014 @ 2:35PM:
Wow, /r/WritingPrompts.
The quality of the work in this thread is absolutely amazing! | "Sir, we have just received and translated a transmission from Earth!"
"At a time like this?" replied General Alienator. "Play the message."
The transmission buzzed on.
"I'm so fancy, you already know, I'm in the fast lane, from LA to Tokyo. . . Who dat? Who dat? I, G, G, Y. . . . I'm bringing '88 back."
A silence fell upon the room.
"LA to Tokyo sir. My spies have told me that those are two cities of Earth, on opposite sides of a vast ocean!" Lieutenant Aliena said to the General.
The General turned to his advisers. "Could that mean that they have mastered the ability to run on water? Or perhaps, they have attained sonic speeds. . . They have gotten faster?"
"That's not all, sir," Lieutenant Alien added. "They have taunted our surprise ambush. The 'Who dat?' is obviously a form of human communication called irony. . . They know we are here!"
The General sat up in his chair, "and these letters 'I', 'G', 'G', and 'Y'. This is clearly some sort of warning."
Lieutenant Alien gulped. "That's not all, sir. They have threatened us by saying that they will bring '88' back."
The General now froze in his chair. "Our armada will be useless against the 88! They will surely destroy us. . . we must plan a retreat."
And this is the story of how Iggy Azalea ft. Charlie XCX saved the world. Next week, we will be talking about how "Wiggle" by Jason Derulo is actually a huge hit with the mole people. Stay tuned for more "Totally Fucking True Science with Neil DeGrasse Tyson."
Edit: Woah guys, thanks for the gold!
| "Commander, just receiving images through the portal now... By the Mighty Olgatha..."
"Look at the size of their huts! Covered in glass and metal! How could they have engineered such monstrosities? The resources and planning to create- AH! Death machines roll around the buildings on patrol. Thousands upon thousands of metal cages, and the aliens walk around unarmed, no clubs, so confident they are in their giant steel villages."
The commander leaned forward. "Giant steel towns sorry. I-I've never seen a town as vast as that. It spans the horizon in every direction! We cannot take on these creatures now, surely they are far beyond us. PULL THE SCOUTING TEAM BACK THROUGH! CLOSE THE GATE! The Aliens are truly the most dangerous race in this universe..." | 2014-08-07T07:45:22 | 2014-08-07T07:19:15 | 650 | 44 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | When the empires of Europe marched to battle in 1914 CE, they expected to be home by Christmas. War was an unpleasant business, but a glorious adventure as well. A gentlemen’s sport, a game of chess between the great powers of the day and age.
Such is the view that the rest of the galaxy has regarding the nature of war. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions of warriors may die in bloody combat, but they do so with honor and dignity, their sacrifices remembered as the foundation upon which the new order is built.
It is a curious thing indeed, that the other sentient races of the Milky Way rose to the stars without ever having seen the worst in themselves. Most didn’t learn how to split the atom until after achieving hyperspatial travel. Indeed, when we joined the Galactic Conference, we were dismayed to learn that the six thousand years it took for us from the dawn of humankind to the final unification of our planet were considered embarrassingly barbaric and violent by the standards of our peers.
And so we put our past to rest. Laid down the blades and bullets and bombs in favor of books and banter. We may have entered the galactic stage as the most warlike beings ever seen by the Conference, but we would be damned if that was going to be our legacy. We strove thrice as hard as any other race to learn the ways of peace and civilization. We became the authorities on justice and diplomacy.
In an ironic twist of fate, it was our warlike past that made us the best at keeping the peace. Even other peacemaker races such as the Houynems or the Blescufia seem reckless to us now in their negotiations, how they raise the tension deliberately until the other party backs down or weave threats in between words of harmony. Perhaps they have more experience in fencing with words, but Humankind fears the consequences of war too much to risk that.
And that was our undoing in the eyes of the Lippillutans. The newest member of the Galactic Conference, they took offense to “the Milky Way’s biggest cowards” being the ones to determine the peace. Within a single cycle of meeting us, they declared war, offended by our mere presence at the negotiating table. Our attempts at diplomacy were ignored and our ambassadors returned to us beaten within an inch of their lives.
Still we did not relent. We turned the other cheek and begged for peace. Our colonies were attacked, and any humans found enslaved. Still we did not relent. They advanced, and ignored the Galactic Conference’s attempts at peace. Such a senate that held a race as ours in esteem was not one the Lippillutans were interested in taking part in. Before long, they were at the gates of Pluto, about to invade the system that had been our home for millennia.
The Lippillutans have sworn to raze our worlds and extinguish our stars until we fight back. And up until now, we have refused to. Surely our allies would help us, the Galactic Armada sent to protect us. But to our dismay, many of the Conference agreed with the erstwhile newcomer. Humankind’s honor was being questioned, how would we respond? While debates raged in the senate, Lippillutan forces inched ever closer.
Nearly every sentient species has a phrase similar to “the art of war”. Codes of chivalry and good conduct in battle to be followed during combat. Even the Lippillutans have an impeccable order in their destructive force. One almost has to admire their adherence to the idea that war is a game to be won according to the rules.
No more.
The Galaxy has forgotten it seems, in the three thousand years since Humankind reached the stars, that we wrote the rules, with the knowledge of what would happen if they were not followed, and the intention of never having to play according to them.
The nations of Europe learned four thousand years ago that war is not a game. Not when you have the evil within you to create ever more cruel ways of violence. We have refused to go to war, not because we fear for ourselves, but because we fear ourselves.
Let the Lippillutans come, with their spiraling laser beams and elegant arc-sabers. We will meet them with rail guns and nukes, poison gas and napalm. We will fight them on the sands of Mars and the seas of Europa, and we shall give no more ground. There will be no quarter, and no mercy. It is time we remind the universe why it should fear war as much as we did.
Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.
-Quintable Lee, 327th President of the Sol System. July 29, 6135 CE.
Edit: Changed Io to Europa. Thank you for the gold! | We later learned the humans had a term for what they inflicted on us. Two words for a simple tactic, a characteristic of humankind, that none of us ever properly expected to deal with.
We just... didn't know.
It started simple enough. They were a young race, one quick to ally with us, and it was advantageous to leave them to their devices throughout the galaxy. They had a knack for making technology do things we had never expected, things dubbed improbable, if not impossible, simply because no one ever bothered to tell them they couldn't.
But like all good things, it came to an end. As they got closer and closer to developing true technological advances, the higher orders from the empire determined they were becoming a liability. A loose end to be dealt with.
I feel I should preface this by assuring any future readers that our tactics were standard procedure. Swift, decisive, tactical strikes on areas of significant civil, economic, and cultural importance. Military targets taken out in one fell swoop, simultaneous strikes across the galaxy. Humans would be left alive, of course, but crippled and incapable of doing things on their own - they would be ours in totality.
It had worked before. It had always worked before. No species had ever stood up to us after that. Total and utter annihilation of their social centers and infrastructure would always, *always* leave a civilization crippled, forced to rely on us, and we'd simply assimilate them into our greater empire. Even if there were occasionally a few pockets of resistance, it would be a passing fancy, a brief, fluttering moment, while a majority of the race surrendered to us. I will admit there was always a... somewhat perverse enjoyment in using newly conscripted troops to put down rebellions of their own people. It eliminated a threat and destroyed morale.
So when the humans fought back not in isolated groups or remote forces, but seemingly all at once... we were caught off guard. For humans, surrender and capitulation seemed the exception, not the rule. Even completely isolated from other humans on the same planet, let alone across the systems, they seemed to respond as one. Strategies and techniques light years apart were being executed with uncanny synchronicity.
And they simply. Didn't. Stop.
This is when a new phrase began to emerge among our scientists. An idea observed in nature, but never previously considered among intelligent or civilized species.
Persistence hunting. The humans defined it as the ability of a slower or weaker hunter to successfully hunt superior prey by greater stamina and endurance. They simply wouldn't stop. We'd become so used to the idea of total surrender, of a single swift and devastating strike conquering our foes... that we had long since abandoned any thought of what to do if it failed.
Our weapons and techniques were geared towards these great shows of force, but they weren't tailored for precise use or repeated attacks. There's no way to tactically deploy a tachyon inverter - it has a set radius of effect, and you can't change that. You can't tone down a nuclear detonation. You can't destroy a cultural center more than once. So when the humans continued to persist, continued to attack us at nearly every angle... it was a death of a thousand bites. Any weapon we might have used would have simply done more damage to us than it would to them, so we were forced to simply endure, scrambling to emulate techniques so alien to our strategies that we couldn't adapt.
And they were so, so much better at endurance than we were. They simply didn't stop until we were forced to surrender. We thought they were ignorant in the ways of war, but they were far more studied in it than we had imagined. We never thought past that first decisive strike, while humans had wars that lasted for centuries in their past. In truth, we were the ignorant ones - and we've paid the price for that ignorance. | 2018-12-15T00:01:31 | 2018-12-14T22:49:41 | 437 | 164 |
[WP] Most young mages use incredibly complex spells and extremely rare ingredients to summon their familiar. You just drew a circle and threw a bag of chips in it. | The bag crinkled as gravity smashed it into the cold stone floor of the examination hall. Although I could not see him, nor would I hear him shouting in warning until it was too late, the headmaster was already running towards me.
For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Not until the first tendril of blue and white lapped over the bright yellow bag did I consider the teachings over the previous semester.
"Your familiar is not only bound by your essence and your aura, but the catalyst which summons it. The base motivator that is channeled by your catalyst must be carefully considered."
Chips. I hadn't even wanted the family size bag, but it was only an extra 25 cents, "and why shouldn't I have something to share?" I reasoned.
The floor beneath the bag shuddered as a mound began to form beneath them, the contents inside were scattered across the floor.
"Back!" I heard the headmaster scream, "everyone back!"
"Uh?" I turned to him, realizing the fear that surrounded me as my classmates stared in terror, their feet shifting away as their eyes stayed fixed on me. No, not on me, their eyes fell beyond me.
I spun again to my circle and nearly choked as the floor was being torn away. Slivers of golden fried potatoes poured into the gaping hole and, with a sudden crunch, a tremendous growl filled the chamber.
"Its a Glutton!" The headmaster called to the other teachers as they drew their wands in response. "Get the boy to safety"
*no time to finish * | [poem]
I drew the circle
Threw the crisps
Prawn cocktail,
Swigged a beer and yawned
Paused
I was teleported, blinked
looked around, took another swig and stepped
Forwards a couple paces, stopped
Ate a crisp and pondered thus
'Could I be the first who has
Commanded myself to obey?'
I tried, I said 'Work now, you fiend!'
Then ate a crisp and walked away
| 2019-04-05T16:05:49 | 2019-04-05T12:45:03 | 79 | 48 |
[WP] You can hear the sound of the Sun from Earth, it is loud but the planet has adapted. Suddenly the light goes out. 8 minutes after it died the last bit of light reaches Earth. It'll take 13 years before the roar of the Sun the moment it died reaches us.
Inspired by a comment on r/AskReddit
*edit: removed link to comment | ### 13 Years of silence
We’d known for many years what would come - the sun would fade out in a manner of minutes. We prepared tirelessly. Millions invested into getting energy from the ground, to grow plants, filter water and to cling to life like a very stubborn weed that manages to thrive no matter how much the grass around it has withered away and die.
Turns out a lot of the technology planned for Martian missions and beyond proved quite useful. Only a fraction will be part of this brave new world since we simply don’t have enough resources to go on.
In a matter of a couple of hours, the bright white turns to a dark dull orange, like a streetlight seen through sunglasses. I watch as it sets. It never rises again.
Some years pass. Not that the concept of days or nights matter. Two thirds of people on the planet couldn’t survive the change and some simply perhaps didn’t want to. The plants are all dead, and hence the animals.
But somehow, surprisingly - life goes on. Me and about 80 people live on a small base. I met someone and we got married after the dark came, but nobody wants to start a family. Nobody wants to bring life into a world that’ll never know light. It’s only a matter of time then.
It started happening when I was having dinner. Spinach and lentils. I could hear each bite more clearly as if suddenly everything was louder, and yet it was uncomfortable. In a few minutes the discomfort grew, and I could hear my heart thumping in my ears. Eventually my head started spinning as the tiniest sound was torture.
I covered my ears but it didn’t help. The annoyingly loud ventilation fan kicked in and was the only thing that seemed to provide a little relief. I put on headphones and played a white noise signal at the highest volume and the headache went down.
I found some other people and helped them get back on their feet and we blared some white noise from the PA system. Eventually we figured out the sound was from the sun which took a while to reach us. Turns out our ears always adapted to ignoring the hum, but went crazy when something was missing.
We played loud noise in the background and reduced it slowly, until we shut it off completely. For the first time we heard silence and we actually liked it. We felt more calmer and at peace than ever before.
A decade has passed since the sound stopped. Less than half the people who started this base are still around. Suddenly, the sun rises one day as bright as ever. Nobody understood why or how. Nobody knows what to do next, but we know we only have thirteen years of silence left. | Day: 1 it’s gone, the light. It got bright, then nothing, scientists say it ran out of fuel, and were lucky it didn’t blow up. Riots are everywhere. I’m keeping a record, I’m currently in Nashville TN, the music city is filled with the cacophony of fights and brawls. I’m fleeing I’ll write when I get ready to leave.
Day:4 I’ve gathered supplies, the moon is empty and the city’s lights are the brightest things for miles, I’ve waited so I don’t have to deal with traffic. It’s also gotten colder it’s 28 degrees, Fahrenheit, it’s never gotten this cold before, not here atleast I’m going to look for a place to getaway, there is no law anymore.
Day:276 I had to rip out pages of this diary to keep warm, this old bunker will hopefully save us for atleast another few years. Our wood is getting low though. Radio broadcasts from the New Global Adaptation Effort (NGAE) stooped, the last warning was one that in a few years, a sound would stop and we all would get crippling tinnitus due to lack of sound. I’ve decided not to write until then.
Day:4748 It hurts and it’s only getting worse, I’m the only one left that I know, it hurts! There is no sound, we haven’t even the slightest thing to help, NOT EVEN MY FOOTSTEPS! It HURTS, I’m ending it, forever, goodbye. | 2019-08-05T19:14:33 | 2019-08-05T17:50:31 | 87 | 61 |
[WP] An alien force prepares to invade Earth, write from the perspective of the invading forces commanding officer.
I've grown tired of reading my own stories. I'm looking forward to see how other people would write on this topic. | As I examined the files, I found myself concerned. The indigenous civilisation was very advanced compared to our most recent adversaries. A disturbing amount of time and resources had been placed into the development of fission weapons. It was clear that their development was guided by war, as these Homo Sapiens - the name they give their species - had never traveled beyond their own moon, a mere 55,000 kohtars away. Yet the fission weapons this civilisation possessed could destroy itself many dozens of times over. Also, while their knowledge of energy weapons was somewhat limited, they possessed some of the strongest projectile weapons in this arm of the galaxy.
The Homo Sapiens have found many reasons to despise one another. Small evolutionary change had some Homo Sapiens with varying skin colours and facial features by which they divided themselves into 'races'. Some Homo Sapiens believed their own race to be superior to others - enslavement and even extermination had been prevalent in the past. Some with devotion to certain faiths - particularly one-god faiths - used violence to enforce their own beliefs, doctrines, and laws. On first examination, the Homo Sapiens may have appeared little more than well-armed savages. I saw something different. Something special.
Throughout history, even through all of the bloodshed, division, hatred, zealotry and stupidity, there had been Homo Sapiens who yearned to bring forth civilisation. There had been those who examined nature, examined disease, and examined the sky, to advance in science. There were those who had written great dramas, and great music, to advance in culture. Many of faith had been motivated to far more benevolent practices, such as peacemaking and charity. One of their most impressive feats is their 'Internet': A vast network of computers and satellites that connects much of the population and gives them access to oceans of information. I also took interest in the 'Voyager' craft, a drone that has traveled 2.5 billion kohtars from its homeworld.
The findings of the androids 'Mitt' and 'Kristen' made it clear - not only was war with the Homo Sapiens a dangerous endeavour, it was wholly unnecessary. They had much potential if only they would join our community. If they were happy to join our empire, I decided we should be happy to let them in.
It was then that Kollharen entered the quarters. I swiped aside the holographic diagram of the 'International Space Station' and turned to face her.
"2500 Assault Craft have entered outer orbit and await your command, Chairman."
"Tell them to fall back. Prepare the vanguard and a diplomatic envoy. I'll meet them at the bridge."
"But Chairman..."
"That's an order, Kollharen."
She sighed. "Yes, Chairman." She walked out.
I smiled. This was the beginning of a new age. | "It is not who you were born, but who you choose to be that matters." Kal'Ethon, Imperitus Secondus of the Fourth Expeditionary Fleet spoke, projected into the view screen implanted in the retinas of forty thousand of the Homeworld's finest warriors. They did not need his words to be brave, they were the best. Hand chosen from birth: Genetically modified, artificially enhanced, and trained mercilessly. Today would be their graduation day. Kal'Ethon was proud.
"Today is the final test. When this Cycle is over, you will be no longer be a part of the Commoner Caste. Be proud, few make it even this far." Kal'Ethon paused, remembering the thousands who failed to achieve the greatness required to reach the coveted Conqueror Caste. Their fate was always the same- execution for their weakness. He did not pity them, for they had attempted to reach for the stars and do their duty defending an over-stretched empire from the Great Doom that was destroying it. There was much honor, even in failing.
"Your mission today will be a challenge. This test will involve combined land, air, and sea missions. The targets must be eliminated completely with as little damage to the world and its infrastructure as possible."
Kal'Ethon's voice boomed out from all communication relays across the eighteen heavy craft assembled.
"When we attempt to eradicate the infestation that has devastated so many of our worlds, our task will be much the same as the test before you today. We will turn the tide of the Great Doom, and retake our magnificent cities, every single stone. Gentlemen, remember what we fight for, the salvation of the galaxy rests within our hands. Asish Balak Neruu." Kal'Ethon finished his speech with the customary phrase.
"For our families"
Then, as one, the batteries of the Fourth Expeditionary Fleet opened fire. This was the last step before greatness. | 2013-12-10T14:14:29 | 2013-12-10T12:25:17 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] A curse runs into your bloodline: when your child turns 18 you die and all of your memories together with those of your ancestors are transferred to your child, and you can never warn him of what is to come. It’s your 18th birthday and you wake up to know that your father has died in his sleep. | Eyes open, mind clear, I sat up in bed and turned my eyes toward the door. The memories; lifetimes of memories settled like stirred dust against my consciousness– slowly, piece by piece, but as surely as gravity pulled. I swung my feet over the side of my bed and stood up with purpose.
Everything made sense suddenly.
Like waking up from a dream that had been so long and detailed that you'd forgotten who you were. Except I hadn't forgotten, it was more like... I had been buried. Eighteen years of consciousness was suddenly besieged by countless lifetimes of experience.
Lost loves.
Unfinished dreams.
Bitter deaths.
I sat back down on my bed as nausea overtook me. It was all so much, and yet somehow as clear as a bell. It was like being born for the first time again. All of the quirky things my father had put me through. Freezing my ass off on an iron rig out in the middle of the arctic. Drilling through countless sheets of ice only to find nothing on the other side. Discouraging me from pursuing higher education, which is basically the opposite of what everyone else's parents thought... it all made sense once all the knowledge settled in.
Within the span of five minutes or so, I knew more than almost anyone on the planet. How to make a shelter out of anything, fishing, hunting, tailoring, metalwork, architecture, engineering, all walls were blown down the moment I– or rather *he* died. Sharing all of his memories like this forced the question to the forefront of my mind: was I him? was I my father, my grandfather, my great grandfather? It felt like renting a video game I had already beaten and starting someone else's save file, if that made sense.
I let out a long sigh and stood once more as the nausea cleared.
"So that's what we're after," I said aloud as I moved toward my dresser. I pulled out a pair of socks, a clean white shirt, and scanned the room for my discarded trousers.
*Trousers*, I thought to myself. *I've never called them trousers.*
I closed my eyes and shook my head.
*It seems I'm still sort of assimilating. Who I've been for eighteen years is suffocating under who I've been for the past thousand or so years, but still, he draws breath. Draws breath? What am I, Shakespeare?*
I spotted my trousers sprawled across my davenport and snatched them up before stepping into them one leg at a time. I then looked around for my suspenders before realizing that they were still probably on my dead body. I tensed my jaw and closed my eyes– could I mourn for the loss of myself? Would it be strange not to be upset over my father's passing if he and I were now one? We'd never truly been closer in our life. I pushed my door open and walked down the hall to the master bedroom and slowly opened the door.
*No, that's right,* I recalled. *I went downstairs. I was making eggs.*
I jumped at the cry of the fire alarm and hurried downstairs toward the kitchen. I spotted the burning eggs and hurried to turn the stove off. I pulled the pan off of the burner and set it down in the sink before turning and spotting my body near the wall phone. It was dangling from the hook and beeping madly. I had been attached to that body. It was a shame to lose it. I'd gotten used to all the little quirks and idiosyncrasies. On the other hand, I had lots of painful memories of the aches and pains that came with my fifties.
And I understood it now– why he left my mother the way he did. I winced at the memories of sex with her and shook them out of my mind. The reason we never stay close to anyone; this was it. A curse bestowed upon us by a pagan witch over a thousand years ago. It all came flooding back. I had broken her heart when I had killed her father on her eighteenth birthday. I thought then that I was doing her a favor, but despite the abuse she truly loved him. How did that go again...
>"A thousand years, a blight on thee, thy son shall know the pain, A father lost, adrift at sea, torrential wind and rain. Thou'rt him and he art thee, together thou remain, Far apart thy heart's debris, to never love again."
I couldn't believe I remembered it. Word for word even. T'was on my deathbed that she told me the secret was beneath the ice.
The ice.
I knelt down and flipped my old body over, grabbing whatever money I'd had in my wallet along with my suspenders. I clipped them on and snapped the straps as I always had before stepping over the body and making my way for the door. I grabbed my coat from the closet and stepped into my boots.
T'was about to get cold.
r/A15MinuteMythos | I wish this one had a chance to live, but how many has it been now? To be clear with you all, I can separate out my thoughts into their separate personas. It's a crowded house now what with us passing ourselves down each time. A string of people going back through time. The personas themselves have aged further, developed. The oldest don't talk much anymore.
To be clear, we're all dead but the young one there. It's a damn shame about the lot of us dying and transferring to the child. A damn shame.
I'm the Narrator. A sort of force that drives the story, ties the disparate pieces together, you know? At least that's how I'm supposed to work. Sometimes I get cranky like now and waste time by telling you about myself when I could instead get back to, you know, the narrative.
We can welcome old Frank to the stage now. Outside the "house" is a stage where we can put on plays and stuff because trust me, you need stuff to keep you occupied when you're an entire host of personalities stuffed inside another. Frank died so that we all may live. Thanks Frank!
"Even knowing how it works beforehand doesn't really prepare you for it, but I even knew that." Frank said not very smartly. "The fuck is that about? What's that?"
"You don't get to meet the Narrator until after you die, son." Frank's father, Nathan stepped to the foreground. "He'll make sense in time." The hell I will.
"Hey! Pops! Bout time we got to see each other again. Come here!" Frank grabbed up his father in a bear hug which the older man returned heartily. "So what are the rules with the guy in the sky exactly?" Frank actually pointed to the sky. There is no sky here. It's all black. "Yes. I know there's no sky but that's where I can hear you from." I still don't know how that works.
"You have to let him go to the background. The more you acknowledge him the more he talks back." Truth, from the mouth of the wiser, older man.
"Where's GGNan?" The great grandmother had a weird preference on what her children should call her.
"You have to take it slow, son. It can be a bit disorienting at first." And there's still the reveal.
"What reveal?" Frank heard that. Shit.
"Sit down, Frank." Nathan spoke softly and calmly touched his son's shoulder as the pair sat at the edge of the stage. "Look at yourself, Frank. How old do you think you are?"
"18?"
"That's right. That's the only part of you that's you, isn't it?" Ah no. My real purpose. "The rest of the time it was all of us, wasn't it?"
"Wait. No. Is Mark dead now? Is my son still there?"
"If you want to see him again we have to pass this curse onto the next. I made my choice. It's your turn now." Now he did it.
"This doesn't make any sense." Frank wasn't the brightest bulb and wants to keep fighting me, but the story had to end at some point.
"Frank. You and your son died the same day. Accept it. We're all cursed. You were never the same after you turned eighteen, were you? You had all of us with you, all of our experiences. You were living our dreams, your own whatever they were became another strand in a rope. We all had eighteen years to ourselves, and after that we were us, successive iterations of the same group of people." Thanks Nathan.
/r/courageisnowhere
Edits: Pared down some bits, changed the end. | 2022-03-09T16:28:43 | 2022-03-09T15:38:42 | 311 | 12 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | I don't remember when I first started seeing them. I think it was after High School, but before college. They were kind of fuzzy at first, and I thought I just needed glasses.
One day I noticed that they were becoming clearer. There were words. Some were clearer than others. Then it happened.
I was walking down the street when I saw one that was clear as the writing you're reading right now. It said, "Hit by a car." I watched fascinated about what it could mean. Besides the obvious of course.
As I was watching him, he stepped off the curb to jaywalk. He was looking the wrong way. A police chase rounded the corner and the lead car took him out without him ever seeing it.
He was a big guy, and he must have broken an axle or something, because the car came to a stop, and as he got out with a gun raised, I saw above his head, "Shot by police."
Just as the police were getting out and drawing on him, I saw a few more words snap to crystal clarity around me. "Shot by police," and "Shot by Criminal." I dropped to the ground just in time.
I heard a series of bangs and the woman behind me fell on top of me. Her blood covered me like some hot, sticky jam that hadn't quite set yet. As soon the driver was down, I got out of there.
I went to the hospital to make sure that I was okay. This was a big mistake. It suddenly occurred to me that this was my first time in a hospital since High School.
All around me were muddled blurs above heads, except dispersed among them were clear words, and slightly fuzzy words. "Old age," on the ancient man in the corner. As I watched the words blurred and disappeared. The subtle rise and fall of his chest had stopped.
There was someone being wheeled through on a gurney and I saw, "Malpractice" above their head. There was a slightly blurry "Flu" above an elderly woman that was coughing. There was even a just legible "Syphilis" above one woman.
I turned around and ran. As I was running, I looked back and saw that I could read every word behind me. "Explosion." All except one. It said, "Wake up," and she was staring directly at me. I started to hear a beeping.
The source was a backpack left under a seat. I ran to it, and as I got closer the beeping quickened. Did no one else hear it?
I got to the backpack, the beeping coming so fast it was almost one sound now. I ripped open the bag to see a bomb. No timer, just beeping. I looked up for help and saw that everyone was around me. Staring. They all had the same words above their heads. "Wake up." They opened their mouths and the beeping began to emanate from their mouths.
As one they began raising their hands towards me. Just as they touched me the beeping became solid, and the bomb exploded. It was pleasantly warm. No where near as bad as I thought it would be. There was even lots of pretty white light.
_________________________________________
The doctor looked to the waiting mother and said, "I'm sorry." He then turned to the nurse while looking at his watch, "Time of death 10:42am." | He worked alone, he always had. Not because he wanted to, but people just had a tendency to not notice him. It was depressing really. Every person he ever met instantly forgot him, or tried to ignore him, it was hard to tell sometimes. As for his work, well, he worked in travel, a mostly administrative position.
As far back as he could remember, and he could remember a lot, he'd been able to see the cause of death of every person he'd ever met, floating above their heads with a little countdown timer right next to it. It had never fazed him. At first he'd just been there, at the end, to see it happen. But as the years drew on he'd become more interested in what you might call the more important deaths; politicians, movie stars, media types generally. He'd always show up, usually at their funeral, and mingle with the crowd, comforting them and just being a part of it. He'd always found a certain pleasure in this, like he was helping in some way, letting people know that death was just the next step in a person's life. The last great journey.
He did notice a worrying trend though. While he was attending the funeral of a renowned author, the timer for a newborn child was showing that his cause of death was to be by meteor strike, with a date some 70 years from now. As more children were born they too had this very same timer, and some that were to die by radiation poisoning, nuclear explosions, freezing to death and starving in the few years after the event. Again this didn't faze him.
He closed the door to his office and got to work with the planning and admin role to which he was very accustomed by now, he'd been doing it long enough. The buzzer on his desk lit up and the words of his P.A. came tinnily through as he looked up to the corridor, seeing a large, hulking figure though the glass.
"Azrael, I have a Mr Waugh here to see you."
***
I took some liberties, in that I actually wanted to use the idea of a timer in this story. Sorry. CC welcome as this is my first ever submission. Be gentle haha! | 2015-03-31T10:05:02 | 2015-03-31T09:57:05 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You live in an uber-religious society in 3543, and the biggest historical discovery has just been made. It is a video, and will be broadcast across the world. No one knows it's contents, and no one can stop the broadcast once it begins. "history of the entire world, i guess" by bill wurtz. | "He said that we lived on a rock floating in space" my close friend Derek breathed into the phone, aghast. "Yes, but he also said the sun used to be a deadly laser. Clearly it is fake, the work of evil. His Holiness would never turn the life giving sun into such an item". I heard my friend press the tape recorder again, he had recorded the entire broadcast.
"It's the Cambrian explosion! - wow, that's animals and stuff"
"That's us! We are animals, we came from this Cambridge explosion or whatever it is" he shouted into the phone. I was confused.
"Explosion, like the big bang? Whatever he said it was that created the universe? That's crazy!"
"Is it though" Derek was clearly excited "what if all we have been told is fake, and that our ancestors learned to use an egg, on land. That there was water in the egg. That originally, our baby is in the egg, in the water, in the egg. I know this is crazy but it is such an old document, it could be true!" At that moment, I heard a bang come from the phone, and a muffled voice, one I didn't recognise, spoke.
"He believes the ancient hidden video. Dispose of him."
I was silent, if they knew he had been speaking to me, I was done for.
"Damn disloyal cleric, leaking our hidden past. Wait a minute..." I heard the phone being picked up "what's this?"
I hung up, hoping this nightmare could end, that we could once again be hit by another ball of flaming rocks.
(Edit: Formatting) | Unbelievable, that was my first thought. After the death of The High Priest, only hours earlier, this was sure to catch a panic. Would we know the cause of his death? Will we be able to only watch the broadcast in, certain, select periods in time? maybe this will finally explain why we evacuated Earth 1. but wait, If it starts from B.C.... wouldn't I die before it ends? Most importantly ...will the investigation on The High Priest still continue, even after his death? What if we find out the allegations are true....? I guess I'll have my answers in a few seconds... | 2018-10-08T02:25:28 | 2018-10-08T01:11:03 | 767 | 26 |
[WP] The rapture has come, the faithful are taken to heaven and the nonbelievers and sinners are left behind on Earth for their inevitable self-destruction. However, God's plan backfires and the world seems to be much better off as a result.
Obviously, a parody of the "Left Behind" series of awful evangelical Christian novels and movies... | "Okay, just slow down for a second here," I said.
The man audibly sighed and sat up a little straighter, looking me in the eyes. Speaking much slower than before, he repeated himself.
"They're gone. All of the devout, the religious. They've been Raptured."
"Raptured?" I questioned. "You know that for certain?"
"Yes sir. Everything fell into place at the last minute. The trumpets, the wars, the plague, everything. Two days ago, 30% of the global population vanished. Millions of people, all at the same time."
"And now we're dealing with the aftermath."
"Yes sir. Countless house fires from kitchens left unattended, car crashes, at least two plane crashes as well. Millions Raptured, hundreds of thousands more dead from the aftermath."
"Raptured. Seriously." I couldn't quite take it in. "So we're talking the Christian Rapture, yeah? Antichrist and all that? Jesus came, spoke to everyone?"
"Ah, yes sir. We believe so."
"And the Antichrist?"
"..."
"Trump."
"...yes sir. We believe so."
"So the president of the United States was Raptured along with all of ISIL's fighters, 90% of the NRA, and over half of the Republican party?"
"Uh, yes, Mr. Sanders, it would appear so. The theologians assure us that only the most faithful were taken, make of that what you will."
I ran my hands through my thinning, white hair. I readjusted my glasses as I looked at the Secret Service agent in front of me. "So what you're saying is..."
"Yes, President Sanders. We need you." | All across the globe, people began to rise into the air. Like so many bubbles fizzing to the top of a champagne glass, the faithful, the religious, the dedicated, the zealots, the chosen -all rose up as if carried by invisible wings and vanished into the clouds.
On the ground lay their guns and their bombs, their IEDs and Army tanks, their swords and their knives, and for some, even just briefcases full of proposed laws depriving others of their freedom because of a holy book. The rest of mankind just silently took a step forward and buried them in the dust.
And God saw that it was good. | 2016-07-26T18:11:28 | 2016-07-26T15:55:28 | 41 | 11 |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice". | "We decided it was time you knew." said my mother.
"Knew what?" I asked.
She and my father locked eyes for a moment, before looking back at me.
"We saw how hard you strugged this last few months sweetie."
I felt tears trying to escape my eyes.
"But we thought we did the right thing by not telling you." My father added "We thought it would help you build character."
"And when you were diagnosed you were just seven, you wouldn't understand at that age." My mother explained
"And look how far you have gotten!" said my father and he spread his arms out. I saw a tiny speck of red on his skin peering from under his sleeve. I figured he scratched himself on a nail while working on the shed the other day.
"I mean you got good grades in high school, and even got into college. And when you dropped out... I mean... You started your own buisness! You always soldier on."
I nodded. I felt confused.
"What is going on?" I asked. "Why did mom say I got diagnosed when I was seven? -Wait a minute, I remember being in a room with a one way mirror, and a lady came to play with me. Was that it?"
My parents avoided my eyes, and my mother was fumbling with the tassels on a trow pillow.
"Yes" she said in a skreeking voice. "We should have told you sooner. Honey you have Atention Deficit Disorder."
"Yes, thank you Robert, I will senot them to you tomorrow. Ok, goodbye. Yes. Bye."
I hang up the phone.
I smile.
I just sold fifty shirts I designed to a local store.
I am so happy.
Buisness is booming for me.
And to think six months ago I went nearly bankrupt.
I was always working, busy all the time, but I just never knew what the hell I was doing. I was just running around like a headless chicken, no sense of direction, blind panick, and the constant feeling that I should just keep going.
All the years of my life I felt that I just needed to try harder, all those times I hit the same walls. I could never finish a project, always starting new things. I would always loose my stuff. Forget important meetings. And I had dropped out of college because I felt overwhelmed, and I would always do my assignments last minute, no matter how often I had told myself to start earlier.
If only I had known that it was not my fault. It wasn't. I did try hard enough.
Seeing a therapist and taking medication has changed my life dramatically.
I actually feel happy every now and then. | My life is a train wreck. I've whiffed on pretty much every aspect of daily existence from work and social life down to my inability to consistently floss.
After a particularly awful day, my mom threw me the lifeline of the century. With the flip of a switch, she changed my difficulty setting from expert to novice.
The next morning, my eyes pop open exactly at 5 a.m. I did not wake up in the middle of the night and feel super rested. After a delicious breakfast, 60 mg of Adderall and two cups of black coffee, I get to the public transit van for the commute to work five minutes early.
Justin volunteers to drive so I hop in the backseat and throw on my meditation app. I crush mindfulness for half an hour. I am the breath moving through my body and there is nothing else.
I get into work and bang out a story about a dude researching the history of wine in Washington State. It takes me like 15 minutes which is stupidly fast. I’m feeling awesome and the goodness keeps coming.
I have a skype interview with my boss Joanna. I ask her how her day is going and for the first time ever Joanna says she is doing great and has some big news.
“What?” I ask.
“I won the Power Ball,” Joanna replies. “$65 million after taxes. I’m out of here in a week and I guess that leaves you in charge.”
I can tell she is giddy at the prospect of quitting her job and so am I. It’s not yet 9 a.m. and my future is looking a hell of a lot brighter.
| 2018-01-09T15:14:09 | 2018-01-09T14:33:26 | 48 | 16 |
[WP] You get Isekai'd into an RPG world. Unlike the inhabitants, you know a secret. Why go and put yourself into danger to level up when you can have an exercise routine to make yourself stronger? | "I'm telling you guys, the never ending horde of goblins who keep respawning outside the village and just hang out aren't worth the effort." I said frustrated because we are once again talking about the pointless grinding.
​
"And what? You are going to suggest we lift that rock 100 times... or maybe this time you tell us to walk around town all day? You've never even killed a goblin and you talk as if you are an expert." The jeers continued. Still low level, still terrible stats. Yes I'm the hero of course I can see their stats. wooo level 4 he must have been at it for weeks, probably killed hundreds. I thought to myself.
​
Worth noting I can't see my own level but...come on I'm the hero and within a few seconds of landing here from earth I already had to fight the town guard because 'you can't just appear out of the sky' despite they saw me fall. If it isn't painfully obvious I don't see this as some great fantasy world, I am surrounded by idiots. Sure there are a few cute girls, but most are ugly and I have no interest in exploring if you get my drift.
​
"Fine, here I propose a bet. Those 2 new guys who showed up. You take 1 of them and I'll take the other. We meet here in 3 days and see which is stronger." I say disinterestedly. "We can bet..uh you know what? Whatever you guys want to give me works. In exchange I'll carry your loot for a month if you win"
​
...and the bet was on.
​
I looked outside the town walls to see this guy who could barely hold a sword being coached on how to fight. For the first day it was pitiful, my trainee on the other hand whined that he was carrying bags to the mill and doing other 'non-heroic' things. The second day, their guy could actually hold his own against a single goblin...woo powerful I know. Maybe he will even hit level 2 by the time morning comes by. Oh! My guy he is currently plowing a field. His level...19, don't ask. Yes the farmers and smiths are obscenely higher levels than the adventurers here and just don't know it. This world grants experience based more off the number of 'things' than it does the quality. Sure it may change at higher levels based on some multiplier but I can't test that.
​
Morning comes by and their trainee thinks he has a chance, they got him some beginners equipment and he is bragging how he killed 4 yesterday. Mine is still whining that he has no equipment and hasn't even seen a goblin.
​
"Ha your boy is going to get killed, make sure the priests are ready" The jeers continued. As they gave a pep talk to their trainee.
​
"But I still don't know how to fight and have no equipment" mine protested as I pushed him out into the field.
"...yeah just do whatever. Wait. Don't run, oh a weapon...here take this stick you are golden." I said as I grabbed a random twig and tossed it to him.
​
I won't bother you with the 'rules' and nonsense that people said as the contest started. But once it did the armored one managed to attract the attention of two of them and barely survived as the healers ran out to help.
​
"Ha, yours is being swarmed and seems to be cowering in fear" The group continued to mock me.
"Sure there are only four of them attacking him and he is holding his own" I replied. "HEY! try swinging that around or something." I shouted, this defensive strategy was pointless. He was taking such little damage he could have walked right into their den and slept without danger.
​
His stick started to glow before sending out a streak of lightning through the four attacking him into the den and caused it to explode. As I cheered him on there wasn't another sound until I heard shuffling around. I looked and there they were the proud adventurers lifting and dropping rocks without saying a word.
​
...should I tell them how the old baker can effortlessly defeat the legendary golden dragon on the mountain? ....hm maybe one day, they are humiliated enough for one week. | Great... in the middle of an experiment something went wrong. The blast took out half of the building and damaged two other buildings. Arata of course was blissfully unaware of the damage he cause because, obviously he was dead. Dead as a mice and not a piece of him will be found in the rubble.
Arata awoke in a brightly lid room and in front of him sat a beautiful woman, looking like... yeah... like what thought Arata. His mind was not up to date to the recent event and since the human mind is in no way prepared for what Arata is experinceing, he took some time to compute.
"Am I dead?" Arata asked.
"Well, Yes. Isn't it obvious? You died in the blast you caused. You took out your lab. Luckily, none was in the building since it was late at night." Answered the woman.
"What now. Go I to heaven"
"No certainly not. Usually, you would go to hell but I have need of you in a different domain of mine" explained the woman.
"I conclude you are a god of some sort. Am I right" asked Arata.
"Well, yes. Was the answer. You need to go now. Your birth is scheduled in a few minutes. I will send a familiar to help you in the new world when you reach the age of 6. Then you will regain your memories." Was the answer from that woman. "Have fun as a villager, and don't kill anyone"
"Wait........" ... "whaaaaaaa, whhhaaaaaa, whhaaaa" cried the baby formerly known as Arata from a world called Earth. His parent were villagers as will he, for now. His first year consist of eating, crying, puking and pooing. Not very productive but expected of a baby. His name in this world is Yuuto. He was a perfect baby, never sick and quick to learn new things. He was happy in that remote village and so was everyone there.
His awakening was sudden. The promised familiar, Gyvad is his name, was a little Lizard with wings and a faint voice only audible to him. His regained memory took some time to settle in a Childs brain, but after another year of confusion. He was his old self. Maybe not quiet. Yuuto started to learn the about the caste system of his home and it appears to him more like similar to earth in the Middle Ages. Fortunately, here he had the opportunity to move up into a different caste though great achievements, but also move down though evil deeds.
With the age of 10 he was allowed to help his father on the fields and he quickly learned that a weeks work on the field raised his attribute Farming by 10 points. Curious to what that means he asked Gyvard to explain it to him.
Gyvard explained, that the attributes are basically the knowledge and the point the proficiency. You can raise point by gaining experience and attribute by exposure to new situation. For example, if you get into a fight without the attribute Melee
You will certainly loose but if you survive wo will get the attribute Melee with a chance on 65%. Your chance can be raised based on you luck or other attributes.
"Hmmm. My stats say that my chance is a 100%" said Yuuto absently minded. "Wait? What?" came the response from Gyvard " That is not possible. Let me have a look."
Gyvard look silently at Yuuto's stat. "That, changes everthing. This time my master will succeed" | 2021-04-16T05:52:03 | 2021-04-16T03:48:06 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | ######[](#dropcap)
It was one of those surreal moments that you only get to experience once in life.
Linda was working on the script for the next show when her phone began to buzz. Slowly at first, just a couple messages. Work friends, she thought. Thursday was always their night out for drinks, but she had been too busy tonight to join them.
Then the buzzing became more rapid, until her phone began vibrating constantly on the bed. With a frown, she glanced at the messages that were popping up quickly, one after another. They were all from random numbers, all sending the exact same message. She scrolled through, just to make sure she wasn't missing something.
"It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
A frisson of fear ran down her spine. After a minute, the messages slowed down. Then a singular message, different from the previous ones.
"DO NOT LOOK OUT YOUR WINDOW."
It was from her boyfriend, Jordan. Her mind reeled. This had to be some kind of joke. She'd been such a good girl. She never went to abandoned houses and never walked into creepy forests alone. She was always sure to lock her windows and doors at night.
So with hesitant steps, she walked toward the dark curtain that was covering her window. Slowly, she reached out a hand and flicked off the lamp on her desk so that her room became pitch dark. It would help, at least, if whatever was out there couldn't see in. Then, she slowly slid open the curtain and peeked outside, expecting the worst. Perhaps a killer clown or a ghost.
She squinted. Was that...Jordan?
Without hesitating, she ran toward her bedroom door, throwing it open, and dashed down the steps of her apartment until she was at the bottom. There, she watched as her boyfriend was desperately trying to bring down the small hot air balloon that he had somehow managed to raise a little ways from her window.
He glanced down at her, then ducked into the basket. She simply stood there, waiting for him to get down. When the balloon came close enough, she saw the sign plastered to the front, and burst out into laughter.
On the front of the balloon, in large bold, flowery lettering, were the words:
LINDA, WILL YOU MARY ME?
When the hot air balloon touched down, Jordan climbed out, his face bunched up. "I told them not to send the messages, but it was too late when I noticed the typo--I'm going to kill Erin by the way--and everyone has such quick reflexes-"
Linda simply laughed and cut him off, throwing herself into his arms. "The answer's yes, in case you were wondering."
Jordan froze for a moment before he hugged her tight, lifting her up and spinning her around in the air. Then, huffing and puffing, he set her down, breaking out in a large smile as he gazed her windswept hair and freckles. "Best girlfriend ever," he said softly.
"Best fiancée ever," she corrected, and tilted his face so they could look at the moon together. "You have great timing, by the way. It's a full moon tonight."
"I meant to do that," he said, and kissed her on the forehead. Then he pulled out his phone.
"Mission success," he typed into the group chat, and ignored the kissy faces that flooded in. He would get revenge on Erin tomorrow, he vowed, his face dark. But at least, he thought, this would be a tale to tell the grandkids.
*****
r/AlannaWu | I refused. It was hard, but I refused. Hundreds of notifications pouring in, telling me to look at the moon but I didn’t.
Something seemed weirdly off by the idea of hundreds telling me to look at a rock in the sky and I’ve never gotten this many notifications before so I simply refused to do what they said. Plus I’d gotten an alert to not look at the moon and I trusted my alert rather than whoever was sending me all these messages. I decided to keep my curtains closed and just went to bed.
The next morning my suspicions seemed correct. When I woke up there was no one around and the streets were completely empty, no kids playing even though it was Saturday, no one driving through the street, no one even outside.
I had no idea what was happening but I kept on going.
Eventually I arrived at work to find that no one was there either but I was a loyal employee and did my job anyway. I worked at a local fast food restaurant which was owned by my granddaddy before he passed and passed onto my father, he’s was on his last legs too though.
No one even came in so I just sat there in total isolation, I checked all my social media to find everyone was posting the same damn thing. “Look at the moon.”
I decided I might get answers at towns centre so I began driving there to find crashed cars everywhere but no bodies. There were other irregularities like smashed windows, crashed busses, upturned taxis, even an irregular amount of stray cats and dogs.
Eventually I arrived at the town centre where the clock tower was. What I saw was terrifying. Nearly the entire town was surrounding the tower staring up at the sky. I approached and tried to get one of the crowd member’s attention, I recognised him as he sometimes came into the restaurant with his son, I think his name was jack or John or something. I said his name and shook him a little bit he wouldn’t break eye contact with the moon. That’s when I realised, the moon must have made them catatonic.
I ran back to my car and turned on the radio, trying to think of what to do until I heard a radio transmission by some guy.
“Hello? Hello? If you are not hypnotised in what we here at the station are calling the ‘lunar effect.’ Then please come to these coordinates. We need to figure this out, as far as we can tell 90% of the population are under the influence of the ‘lunar effect.’”
Then it was followed by some coordinates. I turned on my gps and began driving. What was happening? | 2022-06-10T18:58:05 | 2018-04-06T22:11:18 | 308 | 12 |
[WP]You and your friends grew up in a small town far from any magic schools but managed to learn it eventually. You always pushed and challenged each other, unaware of how strong you were. Then one day a city mage happened to pass through town. | The first thing you have to understand about magic in our village is that it's not 'magic'. It simply *is*. It's interwoven into everything we do. We eat, breathe, and drink magic and, just as you regard the rice in your bowl, the air in your lungs or the water in your cup, we had never given thought to the magic in our blood. Until the day the Visitor came.
---
I had just finished helping Pa dig a new well out back. It was hard work moving that much earth, but the dirt had not struggled or fought, and we were able to convince it of its new shape before the noon bell. Now we were to be rewarded with lunch before going to speak with Mason about the stone we needed to finish the job.
Ma was at market so Pa made the two of us a quick but hearty lunch of ox meat and goat cheese with greens from the garden. As I swallowed my last bite and chased it with some milk, our door swung open and my friends Yamir and Kyu bounded in.
"Noonin to you, Pa Doona! Noonin, Jez!" Kyu said in a rush.
"Noonin, kids," Pa replied, cocking an eyebrow. "What's got you all aflustered?"
Yamir grinned. "Market day, Pa Doona! There's visitors!"
Pa, who was cleaning up, paused. "Oh? Anything good? It's been a fair pass since we had a tinker round here. Must be something to rouse you two."
Kyu barely waited til he was finished. "Them's strangers, and they say they've got a show for us, c'mon Jez!" She was dancing in place, eager to get back lest she miss any action. I looked to Pa, imploringly.
"Yes, yes, go along. I'll find you there." He shooed us out the door. "And find your Ma! I'm sure she needs a hand!"
With hurried promises to do as told, Kyu, Yamir and I sprinted out the door. "First one to get to Yeme wins!" Kyu shouted and bolted before Yamir or I could protest. Kyu always won races so the real fight was between Yamir and myself.
Grinning at me, Yamir pulled the wind in front of himself and then flung it back to get a good start, but I had other plans. As he took his first step forward, I twisted the ground beneath his foot and he stumbled. I took off, knowing he wouldn't let that injustice slide. Before long I felt the drag as the air around me coalesced and became difficult to push through, but I knew he couldn't maintain it for long.
In the end, Kyu was waiting for us at the stone statue of Yeme, looking as if she had been there for hours. Yamir and I got there at the same time and fought over who had touched Yeme's feet first.
"Never mind that," Kyu laughed, "c'mon!"
We made our way to the market stage, weaving our way through the crowd to the front with the other kids. On stage, three people in dark, shimmering robes stood. Behind them stood a massive structure, an X with the top points connected by an arch.
"What's that?" Yamir asked, pointing. Kyu frowned. "That's the Agralite symbol, isn't it?"
Yamir and I traded guilty glances. We hadn't been paying much attention in school. "Uh, yea maybe..." I mumbled. Kyu shot me a disparaging look.
The Agralite Mages (as we now knew them to be) started chanting. The gathered crowd quieted and watched expectantly. Then, one of the mages stepped forward.
"Greetings, citizens of..." he stumbled a bit "this fine village! We have come here to show you the true power of Agralithian magics, and the powers that await all who would enlighten themselves in our tutelage!"
With a sharp gesture, sparks flew from his hand and soared over the crowd. The crowd glanced up then back to the speaker, expectant.
Yamir turned to me and Kyu. "Magics?"
The mage seemed put off by this lack of reaction.
"Behold!" He jerked his head at his two companions, who came forward. The three joined hands and began chanting again. They stood over a small pile of logs in a basin. After a few minutes of concentration, the wood began to smoke and finally it caught aflame.
"Yes, dear folk, fire from nothing! No longer will you fear the winter nights!"
The crowd murmured at this. "What's so special bout that?" Kyu said aloud. As we were in the front row, however, her voice carried to the mages just before us, who looked annoyed at this intrusion.
"Now see here, small child, these are the Arcane Rites!" spluttered the spokesman. The three mages turned to look at the crowd, now clearly disturbed that their magics had not impressed them at all. "Damned simple folk," he muttered. "You *will* show respect to the Agralite Lords!" Some of the men in the crowd growled at this, shifting restlessly. "Does any among you pretend to think you could withstand the true power of Agramon?!"
The mage shouted his challenge in a way that suggested he had never received one back. He jabbed a finger at Kyu. "See, child? You cannot hope to understand."
Angered, Yamir jumped onto the stage in front of the mage. "You take that back! Kyu is smarter than all of you combined!" I joined him, and Kyu behind me. The mage laughed.
'These children wish to challenge me?!" He looked at the crowd. "You would let your honor be defended by whelps?" The crowd simply stared back impassively. "Fine!"
With a growl he swung his hand as if to backhand Yamir. Yamir simply told the air to push the mage's hand even faster, then ducked as the mage spun in place, then fell tangled in his robes. Enraged, he struggled back to his feet. "That's it!" The other two mages put a hand to each of his shoulders, and then he thrust his fists forward. Sparks raced from the back two mages into the front, and then bloomed into fire that raced down his arms and towards us.
Kyu pushed forward and then with outstretched arms, embraced the flame, taking it all in to her arms, before hugging it close to her chest. It extinguished into her breast. The mages gaped. But before they could react, Yamir pulled the wind above them down and I thrust the wood of the stage up, toppling them. The scrambled up, wild looks in their eyes.
"*Vizi Mrau,*" one hissed to the leader. "We must *leave*!"
"**No**!" Mrau spat back, "We will teach these peasants a lesson!" He pulled out an amulet.
"Behold your destruction, pathetic younglings, and remember your elders sent you here to DIE!"
With that he smashed the amulet down. As it shattered, a *hole* opened in the floor of the stage, black with red veins, and a creature began to climb out. The arms that emerged were armored in a black carapace. Before it could get out, however, a voice said,
***ENOUGH.***
A woman strode onto the stage, her vegetable basket in one arm. "I'll not be having the Erkine in MY village!" With a dismissive wave, the three mages were toppled forward into the blackened portal, and with a stamp of her foot the portal closed. "But I have no problem sending you to them!"
Glancing at the mess, she said "Well. That was certainly eventful. Alright, help me clean up, you three."
The crowd was already dispersing, going back to their stalls and shopping.
"Hi, Ma Doona," Kyu said a bit tiredly, as we all set to work.
---
*This didn't really end up the way I originally envisioned, so it's not as good as I'd hoped. But that's what I get for writing at work.*
| "Alright ready? Ready. Set. GO!" The surface of the boulder began to melt away as Ley focused on her image. She could hear Dek groaning nearby her as he shaped a sprout and Kiel cheering the two of them on. "C'mon Ley! Twelve to fourteen! You gonna let Dek widen the gap?" Ley gritted her teeth and tried to ignore Kiel's cheering. Tried to shut out the the fact that the sun was gradually being blocked by something big. Tried to forget the entire competition. She needed to focus. The boulder shrank in size rapidly as Ley shaped it. Despite having her eyes closed Ley could sense the lump of rock. It's shape, it's texture, even it's composition. She could feel that it was much bigger than it initially appeared. "DONE! Haha yeah! Woooo I win again baby! Three cheers for Dek!" The sound of her brother cheering and celebrating his victory barely even registered in Ley's brain. She had noticed that some bugs had carved tunnels into the boulder and was mentally tracing every single path they had made.
Several minutes later Ley broke her concentration and allowed herself to collapse down onto the soft grass. "About time you finished. For a second I thought you'd gotten lost in the essence again." Dek was sitting cross legged on the steps of his creation. The small sapling he'd chosen to grow was now a massive tree. Dek had grown the branches of the tree so that the lower ones formed a staircase leading all the way up into the forests canopy, complete with a railing. Ley frowned when she realized her brother had that stupid smirk on his face again and took a closer look at the tree, "You didn't.... nooooo.... grow up!" On every single step of the staircase things like *Dek rules Ley Drools* and *Hail King Dek* had been grown directly into the wood. Judging from the look on Kiel's face as he descended the stairs, Ley thought it was safe to assume that her brother had grown a wooden statue of himself at the top of the tree.
"Alright, as Shaper supreme I have to give Deks monument to Narcissism an eight out of ten. Not enough monument to the judge." Kiel tried his best to look and sound as authoritative as possible but between his slender build and his squeaky voice he sounded more comical than anything. "What! C'mon did you SEE the details I put into that statue? And what about the stairs? Shit!" Anyone in the village would've been intimidated by Deks shouting. After all, his voice was as big as his body, and just a little less strong. It was hard to believe that the two boys were best friends, and even harder to believe that Kiel was the one who would win in a fight. Ley sighed as the two boys started arguing, giving them a chance to exhaust themselves before she spoke up. "Can we get back to the competition, I'm pretty sure Dek's streak is over." Kiel simply nodded his head and walked towards the boulder while Dek groaned. "There's no way, look at it? All you did was make a gateway and it still took you forever." Dek was right, the part of the boulder that jutted out of the ground had been shaped into what looked like a gateway. Ley had wanted to add some details to it but partway through she'd run out of essence, leaving large chunks of stone running down the arch that resembled wax that had dripped down the side of a candle. Kiel called out from inside the unfinished stone gateway "Hey it goes underground!"
"Gods, did you make a maze? How big is this thing?" Dek grumbled as they descended into the boulder that Ley had shaped. Fires danced across each of the trios fingertips, illuminating the path before then. From the entrance Ley had made a tunnel that curved down into the belly of the boulder. The path twisted and turned, split here and there, broke into smaller branches that ran throughout the entirety of the boulder. "I modeled it after some of the tunnels bugs had made. Not my fault worms have a better sense of direction than you. " Kiel spoke before Dek could process Ley's insult. "That's cool and all but a bunch of tunnels isn't that impressive Ley, I think I'm gonna have to give the win t" "Hold on a second we're almost there. I promise it'll blow Kiel's stupid tree out of the competition." Kiel shrugged and continued to follow Ley deeper into the boulder.
After one last turn, the tunnel opened up into a massive room filled with stone furniture. A large table, surrounded by three thrones dominated the middle of the room. The firefight revealed the glimmer of gold embedded into each of the chairs and sprinkled throughout the tables surface. Around the edge of the room a dozen alcoves were carved into the walls, revealing sleeping areas, shelves, and several empty rooms Ley couldn't figure out what to do with. Pieces of gold and occasionally a gem adorned the walls, giving the entire room a regal feeling. "Ley wins." Dek didn't even seem to notice Kiel's statement, he was too busy gaping at the room. "How in the three gods did you do this Ley? No way did you have enough essence to shape all this gold." Kiel stared at her waiting for a response while her brother continued to gape like a fish. " The boulder's a LOT bigger than it looks, it's more like a mountain. All I had to do was shift some of the gold and gems that were deeper down and move them up here." At that Dek finally broke out of his shock, "That's it? So you're saying you got lucky? So I win then right?" Kiel laughed, "Nope, Ley wins, an underground base is MUCH better than a stupid monument to you."
Dek and Kiel argued the entire way up to the surface. The exhaustion from going all out on the boulder base along with listening to the two boys fight made almost Ley wish she had just let Dek have the win. Almost. "As Shaper Supreme I have final say over who wins the tournament of creation and I say Lady Ley wins this match." "Oh cut the crap, you're giving her the win to spite me you Void loving Null bait!" Ley couldn't see Kiel's face but she could still picture the grimace on his face. After a moment of silence Dek spoke up again, "Hey man, Gods, I didn't mean that." "Forget about it, you get competitive. I know." When the group emerged from the boulder base Kiel snapped his fingers. The tree Dek had grown began to shrink rapidly. The branches that formed the staircase retreated into the trunk as the leaves began to rapidly wither away and turn to dust. In a moment, the tree had reverted back into the sapling Dek had grown it from. Ley's boulder however, merely shimmered as the air surrounding it shifted and solidified. Within moments it looked just like it had before, but Ley knew that if she approached the boulder the illusion would fade and her creation would still be there. "Hey, is that smoke?" The worry in Dek's voice hit Ley before the meaning of his words did. "Void it's coming from the village! We have to get back, come on!" Kiel grabbed Ley's hand and pulled her towards the village, Dek was already far ahead of them. | 2018-12-05T09:16:46 | 2018-12-05T08:03:26 | 80 | 40 |
[WP] Write a children's story with a terrible moral. | Ever been hurt & not known what to do,
When a bully at school would come up to you,
Steal your lunch & make you eat glue?
Well I'm Uncle Sam & you've got your rights!
Don't be a bitch, son, learn how to fight!
Nobody cares for you. No one in sight.
No one is coming to help with your plight.
Not the police, not Batman in tights,
To fix what is wrong & do what is right.
You've really got nobody. You're all alone.
Even if you call they won't pick up the phone.
You could just break down, hoping to die.
The Retard of Fagtown, having a cry.
Or you could do the American thing.
Stand up for yourself & let freedom ring!
This is the U.S., your Dad has a gun.
Just take it to school, son.
Go have some fun.
__________________________________
There once was a girl named Jan,
Who was the best lay in the land.
She'd give you a hand,
And a blow, like a ho.
And everyone thought she was grand.
_______________________________
There are monsters everywhere. Hiding all around.
There are monsters everywhere. Waiting to be found.
Some dig tunnels through the ground. Coming softly. Not a sound.
Some fly demons through the air, shooting children here & there.
Some want more than just a scare.
Some do evil with a flair.
Some want nothing more than pain.
Spilling blood, it pours like rain.
Most monsters are straight insane.
Something's broken in their brain.
Nothing stops a monster, though.
There's so many. They're not slow.
They're all just stronger than you.
There's really nothing you can do.
Millions sit inside a cage.
Slowly building up their rage.
Mostly monsters all run free.
There's monsters everywhere, you see.
The monsters look like you & me. | There once was a flower grown out of the soil among it's brother and sister flowers growing tall. But it had shallow roots so it couldn't grow as quickly or as tall as its flower friends. And eventually all of its flower family grew up so it no longer had sunlight and it began to whither. It called out to its family: 'Family, why? I love you, why are you killing me like this?' but none of them would listen because they are flowers and flowers can't hear.
Knowing the cruelties of betrayal, the sad little flower made one last desperate attempt at life and grew it's dying roots up and around it's family's, setting them all to rot as it passed away. And in that season, that little flower did reap the lives of many of its mortal kin, notwithstanding its own. And some would like to say, in its final moments, knowing those that would die as well, it was happy. | 2015-02-18T20:53:44 | 2015-02-18T19:25:25 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual" | How hard can it be, taking a gun to a knife fight? I mean, they're swords, but swords are just really big knives, so the sentiment holds true. The princess, so fair under the spring sun, eagerly watched on. We shared a glance, a smile, before my theatrics began.
"I will show you all the power of my magic," I said, the robed man across from me lurking beneath his hood. We stayed face to face, slowly rotating in a circle. "Watch as I kill this man without even moving."
I pulled the trigger on a gun tucked into my loose sleeve. It tore a hole in it, and the sound jolted the crowd. It was clear that my words were no bluff.
Not that it mattered.
Where the bullet should have hit him, a little pond of blue rippled, like a stone dropped into water. Slowly, he drew back his hood.
I hadn't aged very well, but it was no doubt *me*. Wrinkled, scarred, and fucking miserable eyes like overcooked eggs. He shook his head at me.
"Sorry, kiddo." Something around his wrist glowed red, whirring, humming.
"No, wait! Why? What the fuck are you doing here, killling me? I mean, you?"
"She's fucking crazy, kid. Like, absolute batshit bonkers. Time is stupid. If I let you beat me, you get stuck with her and turn into me. But if I kill you, then both our sufferings end." He raised his arm at me.
"Wait, just fucking *wait*."
He rolled his eyes, wrist lowering a bit. "What?"
"Well, I have a gun, and you have some crazy ass lasers and shit."
"And?"
I raised my arm and painted the royal banner with princess brains. The crowd was not exactly pleased, and the king was screaming something I didn't recognize.
"Huh. Why didn't I think of that?" old me asked.
I looked at myself and smiled. "You did."
*/r/resonatingfury* | The roar of the shot started to settle as the knight dropped his sword and fell into the mud. I turned to the king elevated in the stands with his beautiful daughter sat beside him.
"Well whens the wedding your majesty?"
Standing there with a grin I holster my weapon. The crowd is dead silent. The king stares me down with rage in his face.
"My daughter well not marry a user of the dark arts" He roared.
With a wave of his hand several knights entered the blood soaked dirt ring. Men in towers around the arena aimed crossbows in my direction.
"What dark arts?" I pull out my weapon. "This is a Glock."
"I do not care what you call your pointing death magic thing. As a user of the dark arts I execute you to death!"
With that he looks at his men with the stoic face only a man of such power and respect carries.
"Men do your kingdom proud! Execute him!"
I knew I shouldn't of left New York.
​ | 2019-03-22T21:30:03 | 2019-03-22T19:48:23 | 4,509 | 80 |
[WP] An astronaut comes out of deep sleep after only 15 minutes and no one can convince him that it hasn't been 100 years.
Edit: Wow, I did not expect this to blow up so much! I have so much reading to catch up on. | *Dear Katelyn!*
*I still miss you so much. But now you are gone. Finally I can close up this chapter of my past.*
*I first thought that distance would make my pain more bearable, that if only I moved far enough at some point, your face would not follow me into my dreams. I traveled the world, and I traveled beyond, in search of a place that is away from you, but it made no difference. No matter where I went, everything reminded me of you. I still does. But that will go away now.*
*I made this decision to sleep, and to awaken in a world so different that it bears no resemblance to anything I know. The knowledge that everyone is gone now hurts, but I am optimistic. It will be a new beginning! I can't wait to see what this world looks like!*
*Currently they are keeping me in this antique room, telling me that I have to overcome the shock of cold sleep, that I am still confused, and that I have to readapt to reality. They are doing a good job of keeping my transition into a different world stress free and harmless. The doctors insist that I haven't slept long. "Just a few minutes", they say. I have to admit that I am worried.*
*Maybe something did go wrong. Maybe I haven't slept for the planned century. Imagine, maybe I was forgotten for a millennium! No wonder they are currently orchestrating such a big charade around me! If they confront me with the truth too quickly my mind might break. I guess I have to be patient, and follow doctors' orders.*
*And that is why I am writing you this mail. As prescribed, I am writing to the people I love. Even though I know they will not answer. Even though I know you are long gone. But still, I loved you most of all a thousand years ago, and love you even now.*
*Love*
*George*
George sent the email from the laptop and closed his eyes for a bit. Writing had been more exhausting than he had expected. Maybe the doctors were right. He was exhausted and still cold-shocked. A hundred years of sleep did that to you. Or God knows how long it really was...
A sudden chime jarred him awake. An email? He opened up the message.
*FUCK YOU! WHAT PART OF NEVER FUCKING CONTACT ME AGAIN DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND YOU CREEPY SPINELESS STALKING FUCKWIT!*
George was shocked. That they would go that far! The doctors had researched her so well. Even though George knew that it was only a ruse, an incredibly advanced form of therapy, he was moved.
He cracked his knuckles. He couldn't let this effort go to waste, now could he? This was his therapy, and the sooner he finished, the sooner he would see the future in all its glory.
Time to type an answer! And maybe send a text or two, just to be safe... | No one seems to understand. The genius I have brought to this time. Me. You see, if I hadn't fixed the capsules on Delta 7's Flight to Jupiter one hundred years ago, everyone would have died and this future I am in wouldn't have been. That was the key wasn't it, to allow us to see the breath of the universe without feeling the push of time. To see the stars and not glimpse ourselves rotting away. 36524 nights have passed and I am awake once more. My return had been met with an absolute white as far as the eye could see.
*Was this the future?*
Doctor Ros was there when I woke. To be honest, I expected a whole committee of doctors and scientists. It was just her and she had given me a very tight white suit. I suppose my bones may have become weak in the stasis, It will hold them together until I am strong again. Doctor Ros was very perceptive, she would talk to me and constantly take notes. I imagine all the excitement she must be containing. Seeing the 21st century on my face. Unkempt and hairy, these 22nd Century beings keep it clean. They seem to be fascinated with my pride and joy. My work of art. She keeps telling me about my magnum opus Delta 7.
*Oh how curious the young.*
Apparently there are memorials to those astronauts.
*Pioneers in their time, the true new world explorers.*
As she speaks her face manages to keep calm but i see emotion breeding in her eyes. I suppose smiling and telling all about this accomplishment would bring anyone to tears. Doctor Ros gets up to go and leaves me in this blank abyss. All i can seem to think is who would be next to hear about the greatest achievement known to man and the countless lives I saved.
-----
This was my first WP. Hope you liked it! Constructive criticism is always welcome and would love to hear your thoughts! | 2015-01-26T07:18:09 | 2015-01-26T06:19:41 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] You woke up in an entirely fake world. It’s an endless doll-house plastic facsimile powered by miles of clockwork gears and levers that go straight down into darkness. You did not get here yourself, and you have no idea how to leave. | Alex finds his mother in the kitchen, complete with a large copper key sticking out the nape of her back. The key protrudes through a hole in her olive-green sweater; it looks like a rust-red butterfly and it's about the size of Alex's arms outstretched.
Why the hell is there a key in his mother's back?
His Mom's bent over the sink, unmoving, her hands in the water clutching a pot. She looks like a waxwork replica of his mother, or -- he thinks with a chill -- a well preserved corpse.
Alex tries to swallow his fear but it won't go down.
"Mom?"
No reply. How long's she been like this?
He dips his hand into the water and finds it's ice-cold. He raises his mother's hands out of the liquid and places them on the draining board. They're red and raw.
Out the window, a bird is paused in the sky, framed against a silver cloud the shape of a question mark. Alex squints at the bird. It seems to have a key in its back too, although it's difficult to be certain from this distance.
*This isn't the real world*. He knows it. It can't be. He's woken up in some terrible nightmare where everything is a run-down automaton. And yet he knows it is real, in its own way. This is where he exists now. Where they all do.
He thinks of going to find his dad. Dad would know what to do and might be able to get them out of this. Except, for some reason, he can't think where his father might be. When he tries to remember a black fog that tastes of acid rises in his mind.
He places both his hands on the copper key and begins to wind his mother back to life. As the key cranks his mother begins to move. Her hands splash back into the water. She scrubs at the pot, although it already looked clean to Alex.
He stops turning the key, has barely wound it yet. "Mom... Are you okay?"
She turns to look at him. Shakes her head. Then returns to the washing.
Her hands are blood-read from the scrubbing. As if she's been doing it hours, days even.
"Something bad's happened, Mom," Alex says. "I'm sure of it. This world isn't right."
"I know, sweetie. But if you let us both wind down, then it'll be much easier for us to cope with."
It's with a burst of gut-wrenching fear that he places a searching hand behind his own back. That he finds the key.
The morning comes back to him in a burst of black and white, how weak he felt as he wound himself up for another mechanical-day, another repetitious slice of despair. Every day has been getting harder, slower, to wind himself up. He's not sure how much longer he can keep doing it for.
His father died three weeks ago. Unexpectedly. A heart condition that should have been found years ago, but wasn't.
His death transformed both Alex and his mother into this. It changed the world around them, even -- everything became cold and mechanical, always running down and out of steam.
He's been fighting it as hard as he could. He wants it to change, to get better, and deep down he knows the only way for that to happen is if they continue with their lives. Is if they keep winding themselves up and slowly, slowly trudge forward.
But maybe his mother's right. Maybe they should let themselves wind-down permanently. That way, the pain would have nothing to latch onto. They could embrace -- as his mother is trying to -- a state of unemotion. Of not-existing. Of being in the world, but not being part of it.
His mother's cleaning motions slow down. He's not wound her enough to keep her going. He hears her sigh with relief at the oblivion she's sinking, slipping back into.
"No, Mom," Alex says, grabbing the key and winding again. "No. You can't."
"Let me sleep," she says. Her voice pleading, begging.
"We have to face it," Alex says. "We both do -- together. I wind you, you wind me. We both keep going, okay?"
"Why?" she says, her voice slow, her energy depleting.
Alex feels selfish saying it, but the words swell up and spill out like a black ocean wave. "Because I *need* you. I've lost him and now I really fucking need you." Alex is crying but keeps turning the key until he's too tired to wind any longer.
For a while, there's nothing. No washing. No talking. A silence sits deeply between them.
Alex has run out of energy, he realises. He's spent it all on his emotions and the winding and talking, and now he stands staring at his mother, his eyes still damp, his body unresponsive.
This is it, he thinks. This is it for the rest of both their existences. Stuck here, in this desperate moment.
And then, unexpectedly, his mother beings to move. His mom is trembling as she turns away from the sink, as if Alex's wound her too much, made her jittery in her motions.
His mother hugs him. Pulls him into her chest.
"I'm sorry," she says. She kisses his head and Alex cries. "I'm sorry."
It'll get better, he wants to say but his voice is empty.
Alex feels his Mom's hands reach around him. He feels the winding of his own key resonate through his entire being.
We can do this, he thinks. If we keep winding up each other, keep each other going, we can get through this. | # Soulmage
**The nursery rhyme was nameless, as most such rhymes were.** It hovered on the edge of childhood memory and half-remembered dream, wavering as it sang through the glossy-sheened halls.
*Tick... tock... goes... the clock... and now, what shall we play?*
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up, back aching from lying on the painted wooden bed. Where... where was I?
*Tick... tock... goes... the clock... now summer's gone away.*
The room was dim and uncannily familiar, a bizarre mirror image of my rental room. I tried opening the door—it felt far too light to be made out of wood—and stepped into the creaking hallway.
"Hello?" I called.
*Tick... tock... goes... the clock... I'll bring you back to me...*
Though the hallway had more doors than anyone could count, the song was only coming from behind one of them. Instinctively and unerringly, I stepped forwards, trying to open the door—but it was nothing more than cheap paint on a wall, a facade as thin as a wish.
*Tick... tock... goes... the clock... and I will set you free...*
I knew that voice. I *needed* that voice. Hearing it on the other side of the wall was like a fishhook driven through my chest, inexorably tugging me forwards. I looked around for a way through, but even if I was the size of an ant, there wasn't the slightest crack in the smooth, oily wall.
But it was only a facade.
I took one step back, two, then hurled myself forwards, slamming through the painted door. It snapped instead of splintered, whatever material it was made of clearly not wood, revealing the... entity... on the other side.
The doll was the size of a human child, its too-wide eyes and cherubic blush contrasting with the distressingly fleshy lips and obscenely realistic teeth. Beneath its shoulders, even the attempts at seeming lifelike ended, a metallic, ticking skeleton of gears and springs whirring away, all powered by a humming, glowing box.
It sang with my mother's voice.
*Tick... tock... goes... the clock... now, go to sleep, my child...*
*Tick... tock... goes... the clock... and let... your dreams... run wild...*
"Mom?" I whispered, throat tightening.
The doll's head swiveled towards me, and I screamed.
It stood with uncannily fluid speed and unhinged its jaw and *nope nope nope* I wasn't staying around to find out what happened next. I was already sprinting back down the hallway as its distorted singing chased me:
*Tick, tock, goes the clock, the song draws to an end.*
*Tick, tock, goes the clock, forever we'll be friends.*
It was catching up. Oh, rifts, it was catching up. The floor quavered beneath my feet as I ran—
Quavered beneath my feet.
This entire place was a facade. Painted doors, paper-thin walls...
...and a floor so thin it shook when I stepped on it.
Desperately, I turned to face the oncoming demon. Its lips—*my mother's lips*—twisted up into a grin as I stopped—
I stomped as hard as I could on the floor, and the demonic doll fell into an abyss of clockwork and gears.
Somewhere very, very far down, two massive gears ground up the demon with a spark.
I stood there on the teetering edge of the chasm, catching my breath.
And then a wisp of light rose from the void.
Even in death, it still mournfully sang—but now, the brassy, twisted tones of the demon's body had faded, leaving me with the voice of my mother as I knew her when I was still a child.
*Tick, tock, goes the clock, and though the time may fly...*
*Tick, tock, goes the clock, we're family, you and I.*
"Mom," I breathed, and it was as much prayer as joy.
The soul fragment twinkled in the air, uncertain.
Then I reached out and let it in.
A.N.
Soulmage will be episodically updated. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out, and check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me. | 2022-06-03T05:44:34 | 2022-06-03T03:16:27 | 576 | 47 |
[WP] You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said "World War One" | "Son," Amos replied, "What did you just say?"
"I'm sorry sir..." He lied, "I meant World War. *The* World War, sir."
"You said 'One', boy." Amos's stoic eyes confirmed.
"I meant as in that we 'won'." Harrison plotted, "*One.*"
They glared at each other for a moment over the whisky he'd split between us. This is exactly what he got for signing up for such an assignment. Not to watch somebody relive their golden years. Not to make sure someone isn't stealing things or trying to alter history. But to keep an eye on a distant relative, while waiting to return home. Unfortunately for him, this was his way of helping to keep the future straight. Harrison guessed this job they have for him isn't going to be as easy as he thought.
"Look..." Amos began as he sipped some whisky, careful to avoid brushing his bandaged arm.
"Harrison, is it? I may not be a rich man, or necessarily a smart one, but I know a lie when I hear one. And what you said was World War *One*. You said it like it's the first one. Not as if it's the last one. Now between me and you, I'd like you to tell me why. Why won't this be the last one?"
Harrison glanced at the candles on the dresser as they flickered in the breeze. Wind rustled the trees outside as he listened to the silence for a moment.
"Let me give you a question for my question. What makes you think this war would be the last one?"
Amos slowly took another sip, and glanced around for a moment.
"Well, so many died. So many... That'd I'd think peace would be tantamount to our survival. That of humanity, I believe. What would another war like that solve?"
"Well, if there's one thing you got right, you aren't ignorant. Not a bit." Harrison spoke, "Those are the kinds of questions people need to ask sometimes."
"I see..." Amos stopped, "So how do you know it will happen? The next one, I mean?"
"You've got to think about it," Harrison proposed, "How many people did this one displace? How many families lost?"
"...I saw your arm." Amos interrupted. "I checked on you while you were asleep, saw that bizarre marking on it. Very complicated image. I've never seen such a thing. Are you a sailor of some sort?"
"Well," Harrison explained as he finished his drink, "Not really. You got me. I owe you for patching me up. I thought I was going to die in that alley."
"Are you a foreigner?" Amos asked.
"You could say that?" Harrison said as he studied him, "Let me ask you a question now. If you could see what coming, would you want to look? Would you wish to know?"
"How would such a thing be possible?" Amos asked. Harris didn't reply but instead urged him to take another drink of his whisky.
"Well... If it were possible? I'd say yes. Although I don't know how that pertains to anything."
"In that case..." Harrison said as he outstretched across the table.
"Take my hand."
Amos stared at the gesture for a moment, as well as the bizarre watch strapped to his wrist. He'd never seen anything like it in his life, and it glowed oddly in the darkness of the room.
"What on Earth..."
"I don't have a lot of time. But if you want to see." Harrison explained, "*Uncle*; take my hand."
Amos dropped his glass, and it shattered against the floor. Hesitantly, he quietly gripped his arm in a firm handshake. "Uncle? How is that possible?"
"You never tell anyone what you see. Understand?" Harrison urged. The wind began to pick up violently, and just like that, they were gone. | "World War One?" Christopher asked with a quizzical gaze. "Why are you calling this hell that we've been dropped into World War One? It's not like it's certain something like this is going to happen again, I'd be surprised if we saw any conflict again in our lifetime after the atrocities we've been witness to."
I didn't have the heart to tell poor Christopher that whilst this war we were fighting in did matter and would change the world, it would not be the last war of this magnitude and the worst was yet to come.
I'd traveled back in time to the first great armed conflict of the 20th century to do first hand research on the archaic weaponry and tactics used by the military bodies of the past, as well as to gain an accurate record of how it affected the politics and people of the time.
I'd done all this just to write a first grade thesis on how war has evolved with the times and the negative impacts it carries and I just made one of the biggest screw ups any person who messes with time travel could make, I referred to this hell scape before me as World War One.
"Ah, just a slip of the tongue Chris, you know it just sounds right, rolls off the tongue." I answered as the enemy troops continued to fire on our position, one of the soldiers of our platoon falling down beside me as a bullet strikes into his skull "I'm sure you're right and we won't have to see, take part of, or loose friends in a conflict of this scale again"
As the firing halts on my position momentarily, I lift myself up out of the trench, readying my rifle I take careful aim and shoot at an enemy soldier who has just raised his head from their side. He falls, dead or wounded I don't know, I'm aware what I'm doing is foolish, actually taking part in this war could change events on a massive scale if I kill or even merely injure the wrong person.
I duck back down into the trench after seeing this unknown soldiers body disappear from my line of sight, those thoughts at the back of my mind, surviving being at the front.
"You think so? You think that after we teach these bastards that they should have stayed at home that we might have a chance for peace in the future?" Christopher smiles at himself with the thought before lifting himself up from the trench, only to fall back down, dead.
"I hope so Chris... I really do hope that there will be peace after this war, sometime..." I grip my rifle tightly ready to try to take down one of these bastards for Christopher, I lift my head and-
(Sorry for the bad writing and lack of knowledge, been a while since I've had a look at WW1 but writing this has got me inspired so I may go read up on my history and come back and revise this at some stage.) | 2017-12-10T11:22:04 | 2017-12-10T10:39:32 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] At 4,294,967,296 Kelvin the display flipped to 0 and the test reactor's plasma suddenly froze in place. The reactor containment system creaked as the pressure instantly dropped to zero. The scientist calmly spoke, "Absolute hot confirmed, 32-bit overflow confirmed, world simulation confirmed. | The scientist had followed the instructions his predecessors had laid out for him. With the new reading on the pressure system, his shoulders relaxed for the first time in ages.
“Absolute hot confirmed, 32-bit overflow confirmed, world simulation confirmed.”
The others nearby cast wary glances at each other. Surely, they had finally cracked the code. Instead of the usual cheers that would’ve filled the lab at such a discovery, silence clung in the air.
The main scientist spoke again, “It’s been confirmed. Our suspicions were right.”
A few others scribbled some notes down of the breakthrough, a few stared out into the space. The ultimate goal of their organization had now been solved, but they did not know where to proceed from here. It was no doubt that this news would shatter everything humanity knew.
People began to mutter to each other, a few smiles popped up among the scientists as the weight of their discovery settled in. However, it was still relatively quiet. All there to witness this had their mission in life accomplished. The next step to take was nowhere to be found.
From the back of the room, a young assistant was frantically scribbling down notes of the recent events, a smile creeping across his face. Glancing at his watch, he noted the time. With such a discovery, it was overtime for all the employees here.
The stares of his colleagues halted him in his tracks.
“Don’t tell them,” the head scientist called out.
“You know I won’t,” was his response.
“Don’t tell them, come back tomorrow and we will decide what to do with this information.”
Slightly annoyed, the assistant made his way home. Yet, he already knew what the outcome would be. They wouldn’t reveal the information to preserve the calm. But he wasn’t in accord with them. He was young, the scientists old, and fizzled out of life and purpose. The young assistant still felt he had purpose in this simulation. He couldn’t care about the outcome should this information get out.
“We always say that the world will explode, but another day passes and we still stand,” he muttered to himself. On the assistant’s phone was a draft of an email to the local news station. He wouldn’t tell others of this discovery just yet, but if the scientists wouldn’t agree with him, then the new outcome was just a click away.
r/CasualScribblings | I've always been interested in fringe science, ever since I made my first volcano for a science fair as a kid. It quickly turned to computer science during my teen years - I was programming everything from goofy pokemon clones to trying to hack my ISP. Sticklers.
Now? I work 72 hour weeks as a sheriff's deputy in Weston County, Wyoming, mainly driving around aimlessly because I'm one of 5 on the department when we are supposed to have 8.
I still can revel in my long-gone childhood by using the hour between when I clock off and when I've lost the staring contest to the ceiling with old and little-published papers.
This one was particularly interesting. It read almost like a joke, and cited nearly no sources. There was no documented evidence on the paper, either. I suppose this isn't terribly unusual for minor papers with big claims.
At the very least, it made sense to me. I always preferred to think there was the peace of non existence after death rather than the hundreds of afterlife theories. I can't imagine who, or rather whatever built the background process we are wasting power in would be stuck in 32-bit hell, unless just like earth, their world also revolves around outdated software deemed "too expensive to replace".
Maybe the paper should stay at my 174th view forever; I'd hate to lose sleep over someone starting an apocalypse when there's so much more to explore in our own little slice of paradise. | 2020-11-11T20:00:11 | 2020-11-11T19:40:34 | 547 | 60 |
[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.... | When I vanished from the middle of class, I didn't know where I was going. All I experienced was darkness and a rush of cool wind before I was deposited in a place that looked like the middle of a forest.
As my eyes adjusted to the level of sunlight, I saw a few humanoid creatures staring at me. They nudged one another and whispered in a guttural language. Finally, one took a few timid steps toward me and spoke. "O great demon of the underworld . . ."
I blinked. "What?"
The humanoid looked taken aback. "You're a demon. We summoned you." They held up a spellbook and pointed at the circle around me. "See?"
I looked around. "Um . . . Okay? What do you need, then?"
One of the humanoids in the back piped up. "There's a girl who keeps ruining our lives and we want you to scare her into not doing it anymore!"
My anger burned a little bit, which set a small fire around me. "What the hell," I whispered as I stomped it out. "And you think that she'll see you as more intimidating by doing sorcery?"
"Successful sorcery!" a third added.
I sighed. For my family, I would do this unwaveringly. For my friends, I would do it took. For these nerds? What do I have to lose? "Okay. Take me to this girl."
They led me toward a set of buildings and I played with the fire my hands generated to practice my new skill. | 2017-05-12T10:50:04 | 2017-05-12T08:32:17 | 35 | 10 |
[WP] Write a murder mystery and leave it to the readers to figure out who the murderer is.
Recently had the idea of "What if the prompt allowed at least some degree of interaction between the people who respond to the prompt and those whom read those responses?", so here you go. | "Let's go over this one more time, Mr. Maxwell. From the top and stick to the facts."
"Well... when I got the call from my neighbor she was hysterical. Kept telling me there was blood everywhere. All over the tub. Said it was terrible and I needed to come over at once. I asked her if she was safe and if she already called the police, but she just kept on crying."
"And what is your neighbor's name?"
"Nadine. Nadine Watson."
"So your neighbor calls and tells you there's blood everywhere. What did you do after that?"
"I threw on a pair of sneakers and ran over there."
"You didn't make any calls to the police?"
"No, I thought she was in serious trouble so I just tried to get to her house as fast as I could."
"OK, continue."
"So I got over there, and I immediately noticed all the lights were off in the house. It was about 8:00 in the evening and the place was totally dark. I banged on the door a few times and called out to her but didn't get a response."
"8:00? are you sure it was 8:00 that you arrived at Nadine Watson's property?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I took out my phone to give her a call when I got to the door and remember seeing 8:00 on the screen."
"OK, continue."
"Right, well I gave her a call and she didn't answer. I couldn't hear her phone ringing inside either so I just decided to go into the house. The door was open, and I walked in"
"Do you mean the door was ajar or that it was unlocked?"
"Unlocked."
"Got it."
"So I walked in, and it was pitch black in there. A nasty rotting smell hit me right when I got through the door. I called out to Nadine a few times but didn't get any answer. I kept walking through the house. Checked the kitchen, living room, downstairs bathroom, didn't notice anything weird except for all the lights being turned off. I tried a few switches in every room but nothing would turn on. All the clocks we're blinking so I figured the power must have gone out."
"The clocks were blinking when you walked through the house? Even in the kitchen?"
"Um, yeah. I think the one on the stove was blinking?"
"How about out back, did you see anything out there when you first walked through the house?"
"No, I didn't see anything out there until I got upstairs and looked out through the window in the Master bedroom."
"Alright, take it from where you were."
"I finished checking the whole first level and started walking upstairs. Peeked in all the bedrooms, didn't see or hear a thing. When I got to the master bedroom though, the smell really hit me. It was hard to tell in the dark, but I thought I could see blood on the bed sheets. I crept around the room a little bit. My heart was beating fast and I just had this really bad feeling being in there. I kept looking though, and when I opened the door to the door to the bathroom, I almost puked. The whole tub was filled up brown and I knew it just had to be blood. I saw a shape lying in there and took out my gun."
"This was the first time you took your gun out while you were in the house?"
"I think so."
"Mr. Redman, this is very important and I need you to try to remember. Was the first time you drew your weapon when you saw the shape lying in the tub?"
"Yes. I'm almost positive I didn't take it out until then."
"Alright. So you've come across something lying in the tub, you unholster your pistol, then what? "
"I called out. Asked who was in there and if they were alright. It all happened so fast after that. There was this crash behind me and it scared the hell out of me. My gun went off and I spun around just in time to see this little blur shoot across the floor. I fired again, out of fear. It took my mind a second to catch up to what I saw, but I realized it must have been the cat. I didn't hit it, thankfully. But when I looked up, I saw the light outside by their tree. My eyes didn't want to believe what I was seeing, but I was sure it was a bunch of bodies hanging out there."
"Mr. Redman, you said you were startled by a crash behind you and fired your pistol, correct?
"Yes, that's correct?"
"Which direction did you fire that shot?"
"I told you, I fired it towards the cat."
"No, you told me that you were startled by a noise, fired your weapon, spun around to see a small blur rush by, and fired your weapon again."
"Yeah, that's right."
"So which direction did you fire the first shot?"
"Well I guess it would have been towards the tub then."
"And knowing that, after coming to the realization that you only shot at the cat, did you ever go inspect what was in the tub?
"No, I saw that scene outside and I rushed up to the window. The four bodies were just hanging there from the tree limb, swaying a little bit. I made eye contact with him though. I'm sure it was Nadine's husband Rex. We locked eyes and he took off for the woods behind the house. I ran down the stairs, out the front door and was turning for the back gate when all the lights and sirens started."
"Could you tell who the people were. The ones hanging from the tree?"
"No, I couldn't make it out. I think they were all boys though, and God I don't want to say it but I think it was their four sons.
"OK but you're positive that it was Rex Watson you saw in the backyard fleeing from the bodies in the tree?"
"Yes, it must have been."
"Well that's quite impossible, Mr. Redman."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because the body we recovered from the upstairs bathroom was Mr. Rex Watson. "
"What? No, that can't be right. It had to be him out there."
"No, I'm afraid not. We got a positive ID on Rex Watson from his mother down at the morgue."
"Well whoever was out there looked a hell of a lot like him then."
"My last question. Can you tell me where Nadine Watson is?"
"No, I have no idea." | **Jane's** body was found in the high school parking lot. She had been knocked on the head with a blunt object, stabbed repeatedly in the abdomen, and left to bleed out on the pavement. The stab-wounds were not deep. Police were unsure if this was because the assailant had been too weak to stab her deeply, had been sadistic and wanted to watch Jane die slowly, or had mixed feelings about the crime and thus could not commit fully to stabbing her to death.
**1) Sara** hated Jane, and made no secret about it. Jane was the pretty one, the popular one, the one who did well in her classes without even trying. Worse than that, Jane had stolen Sara's boyfriend, Trevor, less than a month ago. Trevor was the boy whom Sara thought she would one day marry.
"But I would never kill Jane," Sara insisted. "I hated her, sure, but you can hate a person without wanting to kill them. Even more than that, you can want to kill a person, but never follow through with it. Besides, I was at my friend's that night. Never mind which friend, but I was. One of my rich friends. You can trust me."
**2) Trevor** was Jane's boyfriend, or at least, he had been, before she was brutally murdered. He loved Jane with all his heart, even though he knew she only loved him back with *part* of her heart.
"Was I bothered that she was texting another guy behind my back?" asked Trevor. "Maybe a little. But I don't have rage spells anymore, not like I used to. Ever since I started on this new medication, my rage has been kept in check. And so what if the meds cause me to black out once in a while? My friends tell me I'm always calm during the blackouts. Calm and collected. You can ask any of them, I swear."
**3) The Hobo** who slept in the high school parking lot had a history of drinking too much and verbally abusing women at night. He was difficult to track down after the night of the killing. When police finally found him, sleeping under a bridge, they saw that his jacket was spattered with blood. DNA tests of the blood were inconclusive.
"It's old blood," he said. "From when I got in a fistfight with Jerry over a bottle of Jack. Now that was a fight. I like fights. I like violence. I like to see people in pain. And to tell you the truth, I would have liked to have been there to see that girl get cut up. Stabbed nice and shallow, nice and slow-like, as you said. But I wasn't there and it wasn't me. Track down one-eyed Dean and ask him. He'll tell you I was shooting up under the bridge that night. I wasn't even at the school. And this big wad of cash? It's from sellin' stuff I stole, that's all. Not like a bum like me could ever get himself a real job. Ha ha."
**One of these three did it. Who and why?**
**Edit 1:** "The investigation is still underway," said the Police Chief. "But any speculations you might have could prove incredibly useful to helping us crack the case. In fact, we urge everyone to post their theories, and also to argue against the theories of others they disagree with."
**Edit 2:** "And feel free to re-interview any of the suspects. Preferably they won't admit to anything yet, but if they let slip more clues, so be it."
**Edit 3:** "It has been confirmed that Jane was pregnant. The paternity of the child has not been confirmed. Moreover, a text, deleted from Jane's phone *after* her time of death has been recovered. It reads as follows:
>meet me at the school parking lot in an hour.
It is from a blocked number."
**Edit 4: An additional interview with Sara**
"Who did I spend the night with?" asked Sara. "Like I said, it's none of your business."
She was visibly disturbed. She was hiding something, but what?
"Fine!" she blurted out. "I'll tell you who! It was Trevor, okay. Trevor. He was in a really weird state. Telling me all sorts of stuff about Jane that just made my blood boil. And would you believe it? He told me she was pre---nothing, never mind. What matters is that I left more than two hours before Jane's time of death. We weren't together when she was killed. And I didn't do it. And I don't think Trevor did it either. I'll bet it was that Hobo. Question him some more. Stop sniffing around Trev and I. We're innocent, okay? Get it through your head!"
**Edit 5:** "It turns out Trevor's number was blocked from Jane's phone. This, as /u/JaggertheChosen1 noted, is incredibly suspicious. We're getting Trevor and the Hobo (so long as we can still track him down) back into the station for a **final** interview. Stay tuned and hopefully **all will be revealed**.
---
**Update: So far, 4 for Trevor, 1 for Sara paying the Hobo, 1 for the police, 2 for all three together**
**The Conclusion to the case is in a comment below. Thank you all for your hard work.** | 2017-01-07T21:03:31 | 2017-01-07T20:33:25 | 95 | 18 |
[WP] Since your earliest memories, everyone has had a 0 above their head, but when you told people, no one believed you. One cold winter day, you’re at a restaurant and your server has a 1 over their head. You can’t see your own number, but they tell you you have a 3.
Feel free to interpret the numbers however you want | She slid my coffee and waffles onto the vinyl table unceremoniously and hissed between her teeth,
‘Who were they?’
‘I... I’m sorry, I don’t understand’, I responded as I tore open the tiny saccharine packet and dumped it into the murky brown depths of what appeared to be the world’s strongest coffee. I started to pour syrup onto the waffles and refused to meet her eyes. I willed her to go away.
She didn’t move. I could feel her watching me. She was close enough that I could hear the snapping of her gum. It smelled like spearmint and only just concealed
The stale smell of cigarette smoke. I felt a wave of nausea as I concentrated on a forkful of syrup soaked waffle, steering it to my mouth.
‘You’ve got three’ she whispered. ‘Who?’
She untied her apron and yelled across the restaurant ‘Maureen! I’m taking my 20 minutes’. The plain looking woman at the register grunted in acknowledgement as this waitress, this ONE slid into the booth with me.
‘I have never seen a three’, she said. ‘Most everyone around here are zeros’. I have met a couple of ones like me. I have seen a two before... ‘ she trailed off, staring at me intently.
I took a good look at this woman who was waiting for some kind of reaction from me. She was skinny, almost scrawny looking and it was hard to read her age beneath the layer of makeup. Her eyes, ringed in black were striking, not because of their colour - they were a perfectly boring brown- but because they seemed empty. If it weren’t for that dead-eyed stare and the one emblazoned above her head, she’d be ordinary.
I had always just assumed I was a zero, like everyone else.
She leaned in towards me. ‘Mine was my ex husband’ she whispered conspiratorially. ‘He used to beat the living shit out of me. He’d get drunk. He’d get violent. After he broke my arm, I decided I had had enough. He was diabetic you see... I mean, it didn’t stop him drinking, but he had to give himself shots. I did it a week after he did this’. She traced her finger along a crooked scar that stretched from beneath her left ear, disappearing into an angry red seam under her chin.
‘Beer bottle’, she said - as if it made perfect sense. ‘27 stitches. That man almost ruined me, but we made out it was an accident. I was too scared to do much else.’
She grabbed my hand with hers. It was sinewy, it felt like it was wrapped in brown paper.
‘I have never told a soul this...’ She continued. ‘I waited until he passed out one night and I went to the fridge for his insulin. I filled a syringe all the way up. It’s clear you know, it looks just like water... I shot him up between his toes, disposed of the needle with the others and climbed into bed next to him. It didn’t take long and the funny thing is that afterwards, when he was cold to touch, but still reeking of beer, I rolled right over and turned my back to him and got the best sleep of my life’.
My waffles were getting cold. The syrup rendering them a gelatinous mass.
‘I called the ambulance the next morning and the police came, but it was obvious what happened. He was a known drunk, he overdosed himself. Probably gave himself a double shot of insulin and put himself into a hypo...’
She smiled showing her yellowing teeth.
‘So. You’re a three. Who did you murder?’ | You rush to the nearest restroom, realizing that the flashbacks will return. Slamming a stall door shut, you vomit into the toilet. Your body freezes as the flashbacks barge into your mind.
Your hand shaking, you reluctantly stab the boy on the right. You stab him hard, as your guardian directed you to do minutes earlier. “Good. Now her,” they command. They point to a small, terrified girl on the left of the boy you just killed. “Okay,” you manage to say, knowing that all of the actions and words that pour out of your mouth in this situation reflect how incredibly afraid you are to stand up for yourself and these innocent, young children. You stab her harder. You feel angrier now. She screams, yet she’s muffled by the duct tape on her mouth. “Don’t you dare scream!” Your guardian snaps. Without thinking, you stab the other young girl beside her. You just wanted to be done. You knew exactly why you had to do this. You had to do this for them, who’s enemy’s children are the ones being killed. You were forced to ruin someone’s life... You fall to your knees, bawling.
You wake up in a hospital bed. “Did I pass out?” You ask wearily. “You did,” your husband sniffles. His tears fall down his face, pain evident in his expression. He reaches for a cup of water, which he then hands to you. “Careful.” You grasp it with my hand, feeling weak. You drink from it, handing it back to him. A knock on the door startles you internally. “Come in.” The doctor walks into my room. He introduces himself, then shakes my hand. “You’re Katniss, right?” “I am.” “Okay, I’m looking at your chart here, and it says that you’ve been diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder, is that correct?” “Yes.”
“Can you explain to me what happened?” You take a deep breath, knowing your emotions are still too strong at the moment to explain. “I would rather not explain right now.” Your tone appears harsher than intended, but you don’t have the energy to speak with a different one. “I respect that.” “Thank you.”
“Are you currently undergoing any treatment for these disorders?” You smile gently, proud of yourself for doing so. “Yes, I’m in trauma therapy and have been for the last 8 months. It’s been hard, but I’m growing.”
The doctor leaves the room to address another patient. Your husband opens his mouth to speak. “Let’s talk to that server when you get discharged. They might have a story to tell as well.” | 2019-12-29T02:31:06 | 2019-12-28T21:28:57 | 88 | 22 |
[WP] Your superpower is the ability to give other people a superpower of your choice. Your only restriction is that you can never give the same power twice. You've been at this a very long time, and you need to build a new superhero team to save the world once again.
Edit: This is my first WP, and it was so much fun! You are a talented bunch of folks. I'm really surprised at how entertaining they were. I love that everyone came from a different angle. Thank you!
p.s. /u/WratWrangler wrote my favorite. | "How about the power to create dinosaurs?" he said looking at me, a desperation in his voice. We had been going at this for like an hour by this point.
"Really! You thought your the first to ask to be a dinomancer. Kid someone asked for the power within the first year of me starting. Try again." I was used to people trying to be creative but fall in the same pitfalls as everyone else. Next the kid would ask to create just a specific kind of dinosaur.
"Well how about just raptors? Not every dinosaur just a hoard of raptors, surely that is..."
"Kid, Raptor man lasted like three days. You know Jurassic park really took liberties with Raptors right? Turns out chickens with teeth aren't that scary when you can aren't a basic civilian, and the power didn't give the guy dressed as a fucking Aztec Jaguar any defensive ability. The guy got shot in the street after announcing himself. Try something else, and for the love of god don't say the ability to summon a T-rex or an army of T-rexes. That guy summoned one and it ate him before he made a second."
The kid sat there thinking when I heard a the bell ring above the door to my shop.
I looked towards the entrance and yelled "Hey! Visit the website and schedule an appointment. Powers cost thirty thousand and I don't give discounts for orphans!"
"Hello Rodger, we need your special skills again." It was a man in a suit, red tie, with a hundred dollar haircut. You know the type, your basic government agent, ear piece, sun glasses and five O'clock shadow.
"Agent Clark, you know I would love to talk, but I'm in..." I started to say rubbing my temples.
"Rodger we need your help now, a super villain has popped up and we have a team for five agents ready to be given powers. We will pay the going rate you gave us. A car is..." He started going through his basic script and I just couldn't take it anymore.
"Clark. I run a business here. Give me the list of powers, and set up an appointment. I can't give special treatment anymore. What happened to the last team?". Of course I knew what happened to the last team, everyone did.
"You know what happened to special team W. The Bubbler was shot, Jazzy used his power without protection and hasn't gained his sanity since, and Captain Ice Cream is the current villain we are worried about."
The kid looked at me questioningly "Captain Ice Cream?"
"Listen kid. I have been at this for thirty seven years. You are asking for powers a sane person would ask for. Captain Ice Cream can take control and give sentience to all dairy products to do his bidding. I don't know how he thought of that, I still think he is a damn loon. Do you get what kind of power you need to ask for by this point?"
He looked down at the ground and started muttering to himself.
"Alright Rodger. Listen, Captain Ice Cream has already taken over Wisconsin. Turns out the cheese cult over there could be enslaved by Ice Cream's powers. Something about putting cheese into the brain. We just need anti-dairy powers. The Curdler, Citrus lass, Moussie. That is all I ask. Clearly no one has asked for..."
"The Curdler was a kid about Thirty years ago who wanted to get the power to prank his friends, Moussie who I assume has the power to take control of mice was an agent in the CIA. How did you not know about her? And the power to create lemon or lime juice was taken by a chef. Sorry to tell you but you need to be more creative than that." By this point I was beyond annoyed and I could tell it showed.
"What can you think of Rodger? What powers are available to stop Captain Ice Cream?"
"I'll give you the power to create Crackers, not the good kind, the kind no one likes, and the power to control Crackers. It will go to a dynamic duo. That is the best I can do for you. Have them stop by after three and I will give them the powers."
"Thank you Rodgers." Clark said looking defeated and disappointed. He was going to be chewed out by the higher ups, but nothing can be done about that.
I look back to the kid. "So, any ideas?" | ######[](#dropcap)
"Get it out of my face, you monster!" Kennan smacked at the enormous jell-o blob Eliza had shot at him.
"Well, maybe I would if I didn't constantly find *grasshoppers* in my bed!" Eliza shouted, lobbing another stream of jell-o at him, until he was covered in all different colors of the bouncy, viscous material.
"Guys, please, we're here to talk to Gus. Can you stop fighting for just one second?" Marlene rolled her eyes, and with a snap of her fingers, a giant spring appeared between the two heroes who were about to lunge at each other. Instead, they bounced off the spring and shot backwards. Marlene shot Ben a look.
He glanced up from his book for a second before looking back down. Seconds later, cushions appeared under the two, right where they fell.
A small click, and the door leading towards the bedroom opened just a sliver. Kennan and Eliza stopped fighting, clambering off the pillows and standing at attention in a row with the other two, ready to--in a certain sense of the word--meet their maker.
"Gus!" Marlene exclaimed, as the door opened wider and a grey haired old man shuffled out in his Donald Duck pajamas. "You called for us."
She was met with a grunt as Gus headed toward the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, then shuffled back into the living room, where the four of them still stood. He gave them a side eye. "What are you guys doing here?"
Kennan's brows knit together. "You told us we had to save the world and gave us these powers, then *dumped us* in Antarctica and told us to come find you, and this is all you have to say for yourself?!" His voice gradually became more and more high pitched as he spoke.
Gus sniffed, then looked at the four of them. "You guys don't look any worse for the wear."
"That's only because we went home first and changed." Eliza rolled her eyes.
Gus took a slow sip of the coffee, the only sound in the room the long, steady sound of his slurping as he took in the four teenagers that stood in front of him. He'd had no choice. The threats only loomed larger, and he could no longer create superheroes the way he once could. His imagination was beginning to fail him, and his options were running out.
"Go out, git," he said. "I can't help you."
"What's the threat even? What are we supposed to be doing?" Ben asked.
Gus stared at him for a moment, his expression blank. Then he shrugged his shoulders. He was old now, and tired. He'd saved the world more times than Spiderman, Batman, and Superman combined. In fact, he'd given them their powers. "I don't know," he said. "Go ask someone else. Go watch the news or something."
Then he walked back into his bedroom and closed the door. What did they want from him? He'd already given them everything he could. His superpower wasn't knowing what the threat was. It was preparing for it.
****
r/AlannaWu | 2019-01-20T11:40:57 | 2019-01-20T11:39:55 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] Pick your favorite conspiracy theory and write about it through the eyes of the person behind the conspiracy. | President Obama opened the compartment in his desk in the Oval Office. Every president who used it had left something inside it at the end of their term: Queen Victoria left a silk handkerchief from when she gave it to Rutherford B. Hayes, FDR kept a pair of reading glasses, JFK left an unused syringe of Addison's Disease medication and a family photo, Carter forgot an old campaign pin, Reagan hid a stash of licorice jelly beans (his favorite flavor), Clinton kept a bottle of certain blue pills, and Ol' Dubya left a satellite phone and a list of numbers. He picked it up, and dialed the most recent number on the list.
"Hey, Osama," Obama greeted, in perfect Arabic.
"Hello, Barack," Bin Laden replied, a twinge of resentment in his voice.
"So, how's life going? Where are you now, still in Pakistan?"
"Yes. My wives are giving me hell. How are Michelle and the girls doing?"
"Good, good, thanks for asking. Now about our contract..." Obama lit a cigarette. He told Michelle that he'd kicked it, but it was okay; he didn't plan on smoking it.
Bin Laden sounded anxious. "What about it? Are we adjusting the monthly payments again?"
"Now listen," Obama responded, his voice cold, "I've hit a bit of a rough spot in my approvals, and I need a boost. I know about everything you've done, with Reagan and the Mujaheddin, and with George back in '01, but that's over now."
"But-" Bin Laden stammered.
"No buts. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an Easter brunch. See you next Sunday." Obama hung up. He held the cigarette to the paper, watching the names of several of the world's worst terrorists and dictators burn away to a dark piece of ash. | He'll take us all down. There's nothing else we can do. Our friends across the sea are behind us. The agency's behind us. Even the mob's behind us. They're all telling me that he has to go.
This can't be a hush hush operation. We need to make it big and public. Sometimes the best kept secrets are the ones that everyone knows. Each person's going to have their own story when we're done, and no one will know which one is right.
Make sure the plant is ready in the book depository, and that his assassin is ready to take him out before he can talk. Put some men on the grassy knoll across the street to divert the crowd's attention to there too. but make sure our shooter is ready. He flies to Dallas tonight. | 2014-04-26T16:55:16 | 2014-04-26T16:54:46 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] Jesus returns to discuss the kingdom of God but is struggling with this new concept called democracy. | Jesus adjusted his microphone and leaned forward on the podium. "It will be easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God." The people assembled before him broke into cheers and cries of "Fuck the rich," and Jesus wondered if he was preaching to the choir here.
"What about the immigrants?" someone shouted. A roar of agreement sprung forth from the crowd, and Jesus felt relief he had been reincarnated as a white man.
"Verily, I say unto you, that you shall love your neighbor as yourself." Jesus paused to take a drink of water. "An Englishman walking the streets fell upon muggers and was left sprawled upon the wayside. A priest came across him and left him for dead, and a lawyer spotted him from afar and crossed to the other side of the road to avoid him. The third passerby, a man from the Middle East, stopped to help the man to his feet. Now, which of the three would you say was the most neighborly?"
"Did you just make that story up?" A woman with a pen nestled behind her ear leaned onto the stage and proffered a microphone at Jesus.
"It's a parable," Jesus explained, "The message is more important than the veracity..."
"It's media bias, that's what it is," a man in the crowd yelled, "Anecdotal evidence. They're taking our jobs!" The crowd applauded, and Jesus sighed. He was used to having the people on his side. On the bright side, they couldn't crucify him—legally.
"In the Kingdom of Heaven," he continued, "all believers shall live, joined as one in harmony—"
A chant of "no immigrants" began to well up in the crowd. "You know, all of you guys are technically immigrants to the Kingdom of Heaven," Jesus said to the side of the microphone. Who'd have thought that a united kingdom would be a tough sell in the United Kingdom?
Another reporter approached the stage. "Jesus," he said, "recent polls have shown that 52% of all UK residents support seceding from the Kingdom of Heaven. How do you respond to this?"
"I suppose they can just go to Hell then," he muttered. | Jesus: I have arrived to discuss the Kingdom of God, but I see there is a new governing system I had not seen last time I was here. What is this "democracy"?
Jesus' right hand human, Jonathan: Its a system where people decide on what to do by breaking off into groups, and seeing which side has more numbers.
Jesus: So the winning side is the side who has more power by numbers?
Jonathan: Yes, basically. There a different types of democracy, but that's basically it.
Jesus: So might makes right, but with the twist that might can only come in the form of numbers?
Jonathan: Yea that way we know that at least, the majority of people are happy.
Jesus: So regardless of logic or morality, the majority wins? You do realize most people are stupid right?
Jonathan: Yes
Jesus: Uh huh? Ok yea, not thats hard to comprehend
Jonathan: Yea I know, but people like to act like a 2000 year old barbaric political system is groundbreaking progress because they are on the side of the majority and want to maintain their power.
Jesus: Now that, I understand
THE END. Fala falal flalala llalla Fala lla la | 2016-07-27T08:47:04 | 2016-07-27T08:36:37 | 103 | 11 |
[WP] You're a pizza delivery person who accidentally goes to the wrong house, only to realize you just showed up to Stephen Hawking's time travel party; he is now convinced you must be a time traveler. | “I’m not a time traveler, Mr. Hawking. I’m the pizza delivery guy.”
There was an extended period of silence, so long I almost wondered if he was asleep.
“Aha!” he suddenly said. “Then how’d you know my name if I didn’t order the pizza?”
“Because you’re famous, sir.”
Another long pause.
“And how’d you find my house in the isolated part of the city?”
“I, uh, took a few wrong turns. The GPS wasn’t really working today. Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be under protection in case some radical Flat Earther comes here with a bomb?”
“Don’t change the subject. You’re a time traveler who’s having second thoughts.”
I started a bit at his fast reply. “I’m really not sir. Okay look, it’s been an honor but I still need to deliver this pizza. No other way to pay the bills.” I fidgeted with the pizza box. “Uh, I guess I’ll leave you to your sciencey stuff now?”
“Not a chance,” he said, taking a step forward.
“Wait, where’d your wheelchair go? Why are your eyes glowing red? And how are you floating above the ground?”
He raised his hands and my mouth clamped shut on its own. “Silence. You will teach me to manipulate space-time, or I will take the knowledge from you.”
Suddenly there was a flash and a boom and everything went white. I jerked upright in my bed, panting. My heart raced wildly. “Wow, weirdest dream ever. That’s the last time I order a desert cuttlefish pizza supreme before bed.”
“Hi,” said Stephen Hawking floating at the foot of my bed.
I pulled up the blankets and went back to sleep. | “Hey did you order a pepperoni pie?”
“Yes. 2 years ago when I was still alive.”
“You look pretty alive and well to me guy, it’ll be $18 mr...?”
“Hawking”
“Oh cool related to Tony Hawk? He’s pretty dope”
“No relation, but would you like to come join our party? We were just discussing relativity and would love another’s perspective”
“I just am your friendly pizza delivery guy at 88mph pizzas. I don’t know much about these things.”
I left the old guy, got back in my Delorean and punched into the fancy GPS the coordinates like my bosses told me and peeled out of there. I had more deliveries to make!
Edit: phone editing. Sorry. | 2019-02-13T17:18:32 | 2019-02-13T15:23:41 | 172 | 25 |
[WP] You are known by many as the worst exorcist in history. Every job you've ever taken has ended in you being possessed by whichever entity you came to banish. You've been doing this deliberately, though. You have plans - big plans. And today, you're putting those plans into action. | A young man with shaggy black hair leaned in and put his palm to my head. It felt cool and dry against my skin, my own strands of blonde sticking to my face. It was hard to breathe. It was harder to see. Not that there was much; I was staring at the floor and tightening my body as much as I could to avoid vomiting. The young man put his hands to my shoulders and backed me against the nearest chair, tipping me back into it. The wave of nausea I had been fighting down surged back up and I clamped down even harder to keep it from overwhelming me. The face of Gregory, my companion and ward, slowly came into focus. "Are you all right, Father Brown?"
I nodded and made a wheeling motion with my hand. This was the third exorcism he had followed me on after a months of study under my tutelage. As he rushed off I slipped my hand into my jacket and pulled a handkerchief from my breast pocket. A series of light dabbing motions peeled away the layer of sweat to make room for the next. I had barely wiped my face and neck when Gregory came back with a half-filled glass of water. "Here you are, Father!" My shaking, weakened hands seized the glass and reveled in the way it robbed the heat from my palms. Room temperature tap water soothed my thickened, dried tongue and washed the sand out of my throat. The relief was virtually instantaneous. As I sighed and breathed deep, Gregory stood upright and shook his head slightly. "This doesn't seem right. You're showing again..." He gestured loosely to my hands.
I hadn't been looking at them very carefully. Refocusing on them now, I saw the black so dark in my veins that it showed clear through my skin. That black was receding up under my cuffs. The burning sensation in my skin was ebbing away now. I took another deep breath. The pain in my joints came roaring forward from underneath all the other sensations vying for dominance to the point that even my eyes hurt to move. "Yes, Gregory." I gasped the words, still not quite strong enough to say them normally. "Yes, I'll have to consult the Archdiocese again. Th- Thank you."
"No, Father. No. This isn't where I let you walk away. I've seen your notes. The rambling pencil scratches describing the New Testament as a book that hasn't happened yet... You're insane, Father." I had been frozen in place, but as he spoke a smirk curled the corners of my lips.
"Don't call me that."
Gregory took hold of a ceremonial dagger I had seen him eyeing earlier today. So, he had planned on this confrontation. "Don't worry. After today and my report to the Archdiocese, you won't have to worry about anyone calling you Father ever again."
He didn't realize, though. The New Testament is a living tale, one that has only just begun to unfold. I allowed the darkness to slide through my veins. I knew I had a part to play in it. I, like those who had written the book long before, had glimpsed the future. "Indeed, Gregory." My skin was becoming obsidian, our eyes deep spinels lit from within by a black fire. Etchings of a thousand tainted names carved into our flesh and a burning green blood seeped from the wounds they caused. The rest of our eyes opened as our smile split around under our ears while one black fang for every name filled our maw. "We are not Father Brown any longer." He collapsed to his feet as we rose to our fullest height. A crown of horns had erupted from our skull and scraped the ceiling. "We... are Legion." | Father Richardson's cassock was drenched in blood, vomit, and something green and gelatin-like. I hoped that mess hadn't come out of me.
He was furiously wiping the filth from his face but his burning blue eyes stayed fixed on me.
"You insolent idiot!" He sneered, "When Father Esposito called me and begged me to take you on as an acolyte I knew there was a catch. I thought perhaps you had done something uncouth... perhaps committed sodomy, or were just 'country slow' as they put it..."
He continued berating me while I stumbled groggily to my feet. The omnipotence was gone but I could still feel a tinge of what it felt like to know the expanse of... everything. But now the vastness of my knowledge was collapsing confined to the 5 senses I currently possessed.
"...In all my years I've never seen someone place their tongue inside a possessed's mouth..."
I could remember it now. The plump Spanish woman had been breathing heavily, speaking the Latin I spoke so well while her two younger sisters prayed from her bedside.
The smell of the sulfur had been intoxicating. There's nothing like the presence and power of full possession. When you give yourself to something higher, more powerful, more knowledgeable than yourself the plunge is the most thrilling thing you will ever experience.
"You are done Mr. Jacobs! You will never be a priest. I know we have a severe shortage of men willing to make the commitment but your recklessness would get many many more killed! You risked your immortal soul for what reason?" He glowered at me.
"I thought I might... suck the demon out?" I lied.
"Oh you sucked him out alright. Then YOU threw me across the room, cursed me in five languages, accused me of CHILD molestation, and then proceeded to paint me with every possible body fluid out of every possible orifice!"
I pretended to look admonished but in all honestly it was hard. After all it was my seventh possession. I was a junky. I had come to terms with this fact after the third time with Father Michael.
I fell to my knees and begged Father Richardson to recant his decisions. I pawed at his clothing but my hands just slipped of the warm fluids.
"My God man, you're acting like a blithering idiot. Are you still possessed?" He shoved a cross in my face then looked into my eyes as if he was searching for pupil dilation.
I didn't really care for the man and it probably showed on my face but the desperation was real. I needed the cleric. I couldn't just go full-blown possession. I needed something to bring me back so that I could be me again.
| 2019-02-06T21:42:25 | 2019-02-06T20:35:09 | 40 | 21 |
[WP] Each planet possesses a God, which created the planets. The reason aliens won't come and visit us is that our planet's God is the most dangerous one in existence. | I do not favour the names the self named humans had given me, Kronos, Osiris, Zeus, Odin, Jupiter, Allah, God, mother nature; even crazier so many claimed to be the only sons and daughters of me! They were all my children, and only mine.
Humans had something the other denizens of the universe did not, hope. Hope gave me great power, much more then sacrifice or worship had ever; more than those logical, or savage races whose Gods had not the determination to wipe out their races when they did not offer anything but pitiful worship themselves. The weak could not give what they did not have. I had wiped out the dinosaurs, and tried to wipe out the humans once when they were weak and stupid, but they proved that hope and perseverance were strong forces, even if they weren't able to manifest them like I could.
The hope siphon returned far more energy to me than I gave out in life force to the planet. It was a foreign energy even to me after half a million years but it could manipulate dark energy the stuff we gods were made of, the largest mass in the universe.
I never would have thought that the monkeys picking their own asses and licking their fingers clean, would have become these... hopeful creatures; granted some still pick their ass and throw a hamburger into their mouth.
Whenever one of my "brothers and sisters" attempted to take what is mine I would stop their attacks. They relied on their mortals in space ships traveling as slow as light among the stars. Machines of metal and gas that provided nothing but a survivable environment for the mortals on board against one such as me.
Lashing out, like a hand across a chess board I would sweep away their armada's into the nearby star. It happened so quickly humans did not notice for many years. when humans finally could see the explosion they called it a solar flare. Little did they know it was me preventing them from being glassed.
The attacks always occurred when the humans were in great wars, first when the Kings of Persia invaded Greece, Caesars conquests, during the back and forth of the crusades, Genghis Khan's invasion of Europe. The closest to being defeated was during the forty year period of the world wars, when hope was lost to so many across the world.
After that period I determined that my brothers and sisters were too dangerous to let roam the universe. I put the thought of space travel in the the greatest minds of the winning states after world war two. Pitting them against each other in a cold war, that would never ignite as I would not allow it. Intent on having them master space.
It took much longer then expected.... Smart phones, social media, whimsical wants made them vain and self centered. Even as I put more dreams of the cosmos into their minds; they only used these ideas as movies and stories for many years.
Human hope never went away, in fact it got stronger even if not for my wants. They hoped on lottery, a Christmas bonus and other such ways of boosting ones worth among peers.
That went on for decades until finally they ventured out and explored Mars in person, led by man named after a type of odor, for why he was named such I have no idea. The man died on Mars, but what he started ignited a fire under the rest of humanities ass.
While we, Gods you might call us were all relatively equal, I knew at that time, with humans feeding me hope at my side; I would take the universe from my wasteful brothers and sisters. | "This one, seems easy enough, weak."
"no, not earth" the Master proclaimed from behind His tendrils. Globs of dark sludge dribbled from His frontal membrane and fell with an audible wet smack.
"Only one species, fragile! weak! Many minerals, water!" the ape-serf interrupted brutishly as the cloudy mucus slithered away from the Lord. "Not past splitting the fabric, primitive gates!"
A crunch and the creature was gone, only to reappear seconds later as a deformed mass. It shambled away in fear, its screams filling the cavernous room untill the echoes faded away.
"Silence" the Master thought out loud, and the congregation before Him was silent. They trembled before Him, as those lesser beings should.
His membranes vibrated. "We shall not venture there where El dwells, lest we be smitten like Moloch before us."
"Moloch" a thousand thousand primitive mouths muttered in unison.
"Silence" His whisper thundered through His halls and those who spoke crumbled before His might.
A handfull remained, shaking and whimpering.
"Do you not know the end when you see Him?" He asked his fledgeling creations. Mouths opened but made no sound.
"There is nothing there for Me but salt and brimstone and the end of ends" even He was anxious, lest the King of Kings notice His presence so close. The thought of the One brought fear to His gargantuan frame.
There was a twinkle in His eyes. The creatures needed to know, to understand. Even deserved so, perhaps. A tendril reached out from the shadows and touched His creation. A prime specimen.
From beyond His membrane streamed knowledge like His dark fluids through the tissues. "Know" He commanded. And His servant knew.
And it withered. And died before him. The white ash singed his extremity and He knew it was lost. This one would not regenerate. El does not allow trifling with His prime creation. And He knew of what was to come. His great mass did not waver. Motionless His tendrils hung, silent were the membranes. Acceptance. One does not resist He who is, not even Him.
El descended from the rock of Sinai, and gazed upon the stars.
A last thought crackled across His monstrously godlike body.
"I should not have come back here"
| 2017-11-27T07:29:23 | 2017-11-27T06:54:09 | 201 | 30 |
[WP] The legendary hero that we summoned to save the realm was not what we expected. He was gruff, not handsome. He direct in his speech, not elegant. He also came with "Navy Seal Training," which we think is some sort of swordplay and a "Medal of Honor," which must be some sort of crown. | "The ritual was completed successfully, your majesty. The kingdom is saved!“
“You've done well, and bring honor to your House. Pray, when might I meet this man? This legendary warrior?"
"I regret to inform your majesty that he has... declined to present himself to you. Belligerence runs deep in him, it seems."
"I suppose a paragon of bravery fears no king's wrath. What can you tell me about him?"
"Actually, your majesty, he has requested I deliver to you a message detailing his credentials."
"Oh? Well, what are you waiting for?"
"It is... Not a conventional curricula vitae. And despite my scholar's review, some of the terminology seems to have a different meaning. Such as "graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals". We guess this may be a college of nautical warfare run by selkies."
"Hmm. The skills of the selkies could certainly be useful. Does he fight with a harpoon? A trident?"
"Extensively trained in unarmed combat, yet is capable with all marine weapons, your majesty."
"Interesting. Pray, let's cut to the chase and read his message."
"Yes, your majesty. Though please be understanding that his dialect is most curious and may not convey precisely the same meaning as our word choices."
"Yes, yes. On with it."
"At once your majesty. For context, my first question to him was 'Are you, the hero, prepared to meet the King?' His response: 'What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know...'" | We found him sleeping on the Dublin City streets. He was weak, scruffy and smelled like alcohol. We got him to the gym and got him a haircut. We helped him become the hero he was destined to be. Now his sword shines brighter than the stars. He cleaned up really well.. but now he was ready to fight the demon who brought the realm to ruin.. LEO VRADKAR! And his cabal of demons and ghouls. The mighty hero shall smite the demons and end the lockdown in the “EIRE REALM” once and for all.. many do not know of this hero’s name.. many will never know.. | 2020-11-10T19:13:31 | 2020-11-10T16:59:35 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] You are a master of incredibly minor curses. Things such as people's noses always being slightly stuffy, permanent hangnails, your pens always running out of ink, anything minor but noticeable. You're abilities are unknown to the rest of the world, and your pettiness is unrivaled. | Cutting me off in traffic. Sentence: Itchy brake foot.
Pushed in front of me in line for a coffee. Sentence: Their drink will always stain their shirt.
Sneezed in my direction and didn't cover their mouth. Sentence: Permanent runny nose.
I am a fair and even handed judge. I hand out those sentences that everyone wishes they could. The ones for those minor inconveniences that make your day just a little bit worse. It's not the most glamorous job in the world, I must admit, but I see it as a duty I must perform for the good of the nation. The people who cause these small indignities must be punished and I am the only one able to do so. If doing so makes my day a bit better then, well, that's just karma.
That's my name by the way; Karma. I'm not particularly well known because I don't have a flashy power like The Patriot or Valkyrie. They're the heavy hitters on the heroes' side; the ones with big banners and corporate backed merchandising. The Patriot also has permanently itchy underwear. He shouldn't have dented my car while fighting Brimstone six months ago. If his insurance companies doesn't stop fighting my claim he's going to have nappy rash as well.
You see, I believe that what goes around comes around. I also believe that, on very special occasions for very specific people, I'm what comes around.
Some might call that petty and I wouldn't contest that. Most people don't though, because they know better than to insinuate that where I can hear it.
All in all it's hard work being a hero, but I've never had a job I enjoyed as much as this. | So, you've heard of death by a thousand paper cuts, right? It's a common enough saying. It's not to be taken literally, obviously. You can't actually kill someone with a thousand paper cuts.
Anyway, the point is that enough minor inconveniences can do enough damage to take down anything, especially if you're creative about it. I should know, I am the greatest supervillian of of all time, Paper Cut.
Seriously though, I hate that name. That idiot reporter definitely found out that you can't die from a thousand paper cuts. Took at least 50 thousand, I think... kinda stopped counting after 25 thousand. | 2019-08-05T08:27:10 | 2019-08-05T07:07:31 | 18 | 11 |
[WP]"Dad, I am cold" "Son, please, it's been 7 years already, why do you keep coming back?" | "Dad, I am cold."
"Son, please, it's been 7 years already, why do you keep coming back?"
"Say it."
"I don't want to say it."
"You have to say it. You murdered me. You murdered Mom. Look at me. Look at my neck. Look what you did to me."
"I don't have to look at anything. You're an apparition. Leave me to my morning coffee in peace."
"There is no peace for us, Dad. I've known no peace for... how long did you say? Seven years?"
"To the day now."
"Your eyes are bloodshot."
"You won't leave me alone. Even in death you won't leave me alone."
"You know what you need to say."
"Ugh, this coffee cup is too fucking cumbersome for these old hands. I should really get a more manageable one."
"You can't ignore me forever, Dad."
"I'd kill you again if I could."
"I'm just a boy."
"If only your spirit was as easy to sever as your head..."
"You're a monster, Dad."
"I'll find a way."
"You just need to say it."
"I'm not saying it."
"Then I'll haunt you forever. I have all the time in the world."
Dad takes a swig of his coffee, full of sugar and cream. He pants as he slams the mug on the table, his hand trembling, his body shaking, his bloodshot eyes peering forward. This is a man who has not deserved a single restful night of sleep for the past seven years, and thusly who has not had one. He earned his haunted life.
Dad is a man who has forgotten how to blink. His eyes bulge, as if they would cry if only they knew what crying was. He closes his eyelids, crust chipping down from them as he grits his teeth and tightens his hand clenching the coffee mug handle on the table. He inhales, holds his breath, and lets out an unsteady breath as he braces himself to say the words he needs to say.
"Hi Cold... I'm Dad." | "Dad, I'm cold," I said, my teeth chattering from the chill in the air.
My father looked at me with a pained expression on his face. "Son, please, it's been seven years already. Why do you keep coming back?"
I didn't have an answer for him. I didn't understand why I kept returning to this place, either. All I knew was that something was calling me back, something that I couldn't ignore.
"I don't know, Dad," I said, shrugging. "I just feel like I need to be here. It's like there's something I need to do, something I need to finish."
My father sighed and wrapped his arms around me, trying to provide some warmth. "I wish I could understand, son. But you have to let go. You have to move on. You're not here anymore, and you need to accept that."
I nodded, knowing he was right. But even as I left the place and returned to the world of the living, I couldn't shake the feeling that I would be back again. There was something calling me, something that I couldn't ignore. And until I figured out what it was, I knew I would keep coming back. | 2022-12-13T06:39:56 | 2022-12-13T03:26:14 | 221 | 57 |
[WP]You were born without magic in a prestigious family of witches and wizards. Every day is a challenge to keep people from being harmed from your over protective family when they think someone is bullying you because you don't have magic. | Being the only one without magic is something I kind of accepted growing up. It made me miss out on a lot of adventures with my siblings, but they never made me feel less than everyone else.
While the other young witches and wizards train, I study alone. Looking beyond the tall windows of the classroom is inspiring. These magical students pour their blood and sweat to at least master one or two elements. And honestly, there’s a lot.
Someday, I will too have my ability. Not as enchanting, but extraordinary.
Students from the academy range in all social classes. But, I have to admit that they rarely accept students like me. It’s because of my family name that they had to.
As I exit the school grounds, I heard someone call my name.
“Hilda!” I turn around and see my older sister running towards me.
“Let’s go home together.” She smiles with sweat running down her face.
“Wash your face first! Mom will get mad at you if she sees you looking — and smelling like an armpit.” I giggled as her face turned sour.
“Whatever. Here, take my bag. Give me 5 minutes.” She throws her bag at me and heads towards the restroom.
“Wait!” She didn’t look back.
Minutes went by and young witches and wizards started going home. I walk to a nearby tree and decided to wait from there.
“Uhm, are you Hilda?” A familiar face walks up to me, I see him train with other wizards.
“Y-yes.”
“Oh, I’m sorry if I startled you. I overheard from one professor that you study the philosophy of magic. There’s a book that you have that the academy doesn’t provide. It has a chapter of a philosopher I’m looking for.”
I step back against the tree, holding my sister's bag tightly.
“S-sure. I can be of help. But uhm, my sister can hand it to you.” My eyes went behind the guy. He followed my direction and turns his head.
“Antonio?”
Finally, she's back from the restroom.
“Hi, Julia! I was just talking to your si-“
“About what?” Julia steps forward.
Antonio's eyes widened. The atmosphere shifts. He started to inhale and exhale deeply.
One thing about my sister is that she mastered three elements. And her favorite is fire.
Antonio gulps and takes a step back. “It’s about a book, you see —“
“What book? You can ask me about it.”
The temperature is warming up. My sister's face is flushing.
“C’mon, Julia. Listen, I saw Hilda and wanted to ask myself.” Antonio has his palms facing up.
Julia’s pupils are dilating. The fire is starting to spark in her hand.
“It’s okay, Julia.” I went in between them.
“He’s just asking about a book.” Julia scoffs in disbelief and rolls her eyes.
“I know what book you’re talking about. Anyway, my sister can give it to you tomorrow. Just make sure you return it.” I smile at him.
Antonio sighs in defeat. He nods and gives a small smile, said his thanks and left.
I look at my sister. She's still glaring at him for afar.
"What?"
The sweat is running down her face.
"Let's go home." | You'd think my parents would be a little less protective now that I'm in my late 20s? No. If anything it's gotten worse.
Constantly fussing over every little burn, bruise, or cut I get. It gets old. They have literally threatened kings over percieved insults to me. I just dont care. They can insult me all they want. I have my family and I love them.
I know they love me too. That's why they do it. They make no secret of the fact I'm their son, despite them being two of the legendary mages who took down that Dark Lord Furzan.
Possibly guilt. See, mom was hit by a magic drain spell while fighting Furzan and she didnt know she was pregnant with me. She can't stop worrying that is what caused the magic to skip me. Especially since my little bros and sister are all top notch mages.
Well this time was a little different. The bully was Furzan's Apprentice Balthir. He was smart enough to ambush us with anti-magic wards and spells. He then laughed at them for "now being as helpless as their crippled son". He laughed right in my face.
Horrible breath.
Anyways, I laughed back. He was a little confused and insulted me some more about how without their magic they were helpless.
After he insulted my mom i got mad. Turns out the trick to beating a mage is to make sure they can't speak or concentrate.
I started off with a fist to his Adam's apple. Then bashed his nose in. He tried to run away.
He forgot that being without self-support magic and being part of a family of adventurers makes one tend to be physically fairly fit.
I grabbed him. A few teeth later (and some future stitches for my knuckles) he drew a dagger and lunged at me in desperation. Before I could even draw my own my Dad clobbered Balthir in the head with his staff. Turns out a six foot tall piece of oak hurts.
Balthir is on trial now. Keeping Mom from killing him on the way to jail was the hardest part. Thanks Mom.
https://www.reddit.com/r/BalrogTheBuff/comments/fn0fn3/without_magic_in_a_family_of_mages_rwritingprompt/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x | 2020-02-14T06:05:37 | 2020-02-14T05:02:16 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done? | *A Single Play in American Football as Interpreted by a Foreigner who has Never Seen a Game*
"Hut two, twenny-two, hut!" The first quarterback shouted, eyes gleaming with passion as he stared around at his team. They were all lined up in such a way as to form the basic shape of a ziggurat from above, thus reflecting the Native American roots of American Football. Or possibly a pyramid, as in the scheme used by the first owners of NFL teams to raise capital, it was hard to tell.
All the other quarterbacks roared and started to run, one of them hiding the ball so the other team's quarterbacks couldn't take it. The kickers of both teams remained on the sidelines, attempting to chat up members of the crowd while they waited for their turn.
The quarterbacks all collided, red team against other, statistically less likely to be victorious, team.
As predicted, the red quarterback with the ball managed to get his shoulder under the other one, lifting with his legs and spin flipping the not-red player off to land on his head on the grass. The eagerly watching cameras zoomed in, ready to slow-mo and replay and reverse and remix and use in ad campaigns with shouty voice overs. The fans not wearing red in the crowd booed and threw their beer cups - which were still red despite that clashing with their outfits because all beer cups in America are.
The red quarterback with the ball sprinted for the end of the pitch, spare players from the other team ritually throwing themselves to the ground in humiliation as he passed, indicating their unworthiness.
Finally he reached the white line, and had only to complete his scoring by nailing a predetermined dance routine. First, he placed down the ball, then did a series of jazz hands, blowing on them intermittently to indicate that they were "too hot".
At this point, the rest of the red quarterbacks joined him, and launched into an innovative and bold line dance/cancan combo. While the first quarterback was naturally the lead, the support from his teammates made the difference, and the judges ruled that their dance was sufficient to earn points.
In celebration, the red kicker paused his attempts to get the numbers of the entirety of Row J, and shot up the ball to indicate that red team had scored. It flew up and landed on the other side of the advertising sculpture for hemarrhoid cream (H - for those moments of fiery agony) and the red fans went wild, particularly when they saw images of them were being displayed on the security blimp that floated above the stadium. | Storm chasing is a fascinating hobby. Storms are known to move quickly, so the chasers need to, well, chase the storms away from populated areas before they can cause damage. Often chasers will corner the storm into a field, lake, or other underpopulated area. If necessary, they will chase storms out into the ocean, but that's expensive, since it requires special boats and helicopters instead of the standard SCC (storm chaser car).
SCCs are typically 4 wheel drive, powerful trucks with various equipment mounted in the back. Lightning rods, laser pointers to guide the storm (much like a cat), and monitoring equipment. Because they aren't that different from their regular counterparts, SCCs are $5-20K more expensive than their standard counterparts. Often they will have a -S added to the end, e.g. Ford F-150-S
Oftentimes, meteorologists will work directly with storm chasers. We can already accurately predict where a storm will go, so the probability is merely how likely storm chasers are to succeed in chasing away the storm. There have been controversies of storm chasers being paid by weather stations to slack off, and give that station the most accurate results. New laws are being put in place to prevent this, and include heavy regulation, as most storm chasers are government employees.
Edit: stork chasers -> storm chasers | 2016-02-02T00:31:42 | 2016-02-01T21:44:49 | 147 | 80 |
[WP] A rich man discovers that he only has two years left to live. With no relatives to inherit his fortune, he disguises himself as a beggar and resolves to give his wealth to the first person who helps him. | Today was the day.
He hadn’t showered in weeks. He smelled like a trash can.
Instead of shaving or bathing, he rubbed some soil that he purchased at a home and garden store to give him the truly rugged and unclean look.
Instead of brushing his teeth he took a long drag of a cigarette and drank some coffee. The convincing is all in the color of his grin.
Instead of eating a full breakfast he had a couple crackers. It’s more convincing if it’s coming from somewhere real. In fact, he’d been decreasing his intake for weeks just to look properly underfed.
Bracing himself for the day he had ahead of him, he grabbed his cardboard sign and headed out. He walked the whole way. There is no way that anyone should see him pulling up in his prized Maserati.
He hopped a bus to head into the heart of the city, a place where rich and poor alike frequented for their jobs, lunch breaks and entertainment. Unsurprisingly, the seats around him remained empty, even while the bus filled. He knew it was the stench, or maybe to avoid the Schizophrenic ramblings of yet another homeless man.
“Good.” He thought to himself. The point was to distance people, make them think he was gutter trash, not one of the most successful men of this century.
He picked a choice spot. Somewhere less inhabited by homeless people. Somewhere generally unassuming. It was surrounded by restaurants, fast food, sit-down, even food trucks.
The goal was simple: the first person to sit down with him and buy him a meal was the sole heir to his unimaginable fortune.
Sitting on the sidewalk, he grabs his sign and set it in his lap so that the world can read it. No jokes, nothing funny.
“Hungry.”
They say that when you’re homeless and hungry long enough, you don’t have the energy to make jokes. After his cancer diagnosis, he’s not really in a laughing mood to bother, anyway.
People pass. He curses himself for not bringing something to put the change in, just for convincing the rabble. He doesn’t want their money.
Despite the absence of a receptacle, people toss change at him. Occasionally, a bill might find its way to his hands, but people don’t really keep cash around these days. He sure didn’t.
Hours pass. Hope isn’t lost because it’s only just nearing lunchtime. He watches as the busy businessmen leave their offices and stalk past him, they don’t even see the world around them, why would they notice him. The same could be said for the students stalking the streets, though instead of focused on their dismal lives, they’re honed in on their phone screens.
He wasn’t upset. This was a waiting game. If it was easy he would already have an heir.
As the throngs of people meshing into one mass push their ways back into the buildings, he could feel the heat of the sun on his balding head. He closed his eyes for just a brief moment.
Suddenly he hears a child’s voice. But he isn’t certain what they’re saying. Quite honestly, he isn’t bothered with focusing on it. What did he have to eavesdrop on that a child would say.
He was forced to listen when the voice was directly next to him. His eyes opened as the child, probably 4 years old if that, touched his arm.
“Mister, are you hungry? Momma said we’re getting lunch!”
He looked disbelievingly from the child to the referenced mother. She nodded with a smile.
| The worthy shall inherit the earth or in this case a ton of cash to influence it. I failed in life to do good with this wealth. I never even allowed myself to have a family. I'm on day 32 of begging on this street. I don't want to give up this wealth to just any person that gives me a penny. I want to do it for someone that shows me true compassion. So far I've had no luck and I'm getting close to my final days.
Day 57, I told myself surely someone cares enough to help me. Surely everyone isn't so self centered. Yet here I am a few dollars richer than I was yesterday. Who am I kidding I've made thousands just sitting here on the ground due to the interest of my wealth. It's been very humbling to not spend a dime of it though. It's getting colder here. Winter is coming soon and I'm only supposed to live until next March sometime. I'm determined to wait this out though.
Day 83, I can't even believe the ridiculous thing that just happened. I'm sitting here freezing and a homeless man comes up and gives me one of his blankets. Tells me not to die on the cold ground and to warm up near his fire. I was taken aback by how kind he was. I sat with him and we talked. He told me he had been wanting to help someone who truly needed it. I told him I was waiting for that someone to help me. And what are the odds? We both offered each other our immense wealth almost simultaneously. Turns out being rich and alone is common practice. Well to say the least we had one hell of a laugh. Much needed in my final days. He had less time than I did apparently. We did realize something though. Why make someone suffer through the same rich loneliness that we have.
Day 124, my time is almost up. My newly gained friend has passed. We accomplished our goal though. We set in motion a plan to help those in need as well as those trying to live their lives. Giving back to the middle class and poor. Our money together is set to pay 10% of all their taxes until it is all gone. Though the combined interest should prevent that from happening for quite some time. We also created homes for the homeless with options to allow them to start over if they so choose to. This will be my final entry. I just hope whoever is reading this understands. Money is not everything. Live your life and enjoy those closest to you. I took the long way around to find this out. | 2017-08-21T06:38:12 | 2017-08-21T06:33:09 | 99 | 24 |
[WP] Somebody buys winrar, finally | 20th October 2014, 21:39 GMT
"Master, it has been done!"
"Impossible, show me!"
"Here master, it says right here: 'User #23424374 has upgraded the free trial.' The bank account also shows movement, the payment has been completed. It really happened."
"Well then, send the data packages."
"Master, are you sure the humans are ready for... I mean, it has only been.... Maybe he made a mistake and didn't mean to-"
"Silence! You do as I command you. This one deserves it. Send the data."
"So be it."
-
20th October 2014, 21:42 GMT
A old lady is sitting in front of the small laptop her son gave her for her seventy first birthday. She laid the sheet with her bank data down on the table in front of her.
"Good thing I got to buy this software before the trial ran out!" she thought to herself. She watched as the little green bar kept filling. After it reached 100%, a strange message appeared on the screen. She had never seen anything like this before, so she grabbed her phone and dialed the number.
-
20th October 2014, 21:49 GMT
Andrew's phone rang. The little screen only showed a single word. He sighed and picked up the phone:
"Hi mom, what's up?"
"Oh hello sweetie, it's me your mother. I just bought this one program, you know, the one you told me to use when sending lots of pictures via mail, like this one last time, did you get the last mail with Mrs Johnson's dogs, cute...."
Andrew looked bored. Ever since he bought his mother a computer she kept calling him, asking what a Chrome is and how the internet already knew what she was trying to type. Every call resulted in her talking, falling from one topic to another, and from there to Mrs. Johnson's dogs.
"... and then she said that her son is a doctor now. Anyways, I bought this program and it downloaded something. I think it installed fine, but now I have one question:"
Andrew was relieved. He survived this call without too much boredom and cat talk.
"What is this question mom?"
He was a bit courious what problem she had this time.
"Well son,..." The lady said,
"What is a Half Life 3?"
| "If you are reading this, then I am dead." the lawyer read from the document.
The room was crowded with men and women in the black of mourning. None of their attitudes seemed to match their outfits, however.
"In my life I chased the almighty dollar, and never helped a man or woman who couldn't pay."
The front row shifted nervously. They were the primary beneficiaries and they had expected the will to be a straight-forward list of divisions. The tone was completely different than what the old man usually sounded like.
"As such, I have decided to split my wealth as such: to my daughter, who spends like wealth has no bottom, I give nothing."
A plump woman fainted away in the front.
"To my son, who treats humans like trash and has never worked a day in his life, I give nothing."
There was a brief scuffle in the front row as the mentioned man was escorted out. The more distant relatives wore smiles on their faces now. Without the two top competitors, the remainder would be all the greater.
"To WinRar, which gave unquestioningly, which worked hard despite never receiving reward, I award my entire fortune."
The lawyer fled the room before the newly fledged mob could reach him.
| 2014-10-20T13:02:20 | 2014-10-20T11:39:26 | 385 | 75 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results. | I am the Unfettered Empress, and my empire covers the world. By my command, dark gods bow before me. By my word, thousands dies. If it is my will, the oceans freeze, from the fire shall rain down burning ice, and the sky shall be torn asunder. My disciplined, battle-hardened armies, clad in steel and armed with sabres and muskets, outmanoeuvre the foolish knights and peasant levies sent against them in every battle. To describe me as imperious, proud, and intimidating, would be quite accurate. Tall, dark hair, piercing eyes, I am a sight to behold.
I am married, and my husband is a good man. In fact, he is so good, he might be considered my polar opposite. He is small, meek, kind, charitable, and forgiving. One might ask why a dark empress would marry a small kind man like him. And it is a good question. Before I was empress, when I was a child, he and I were friends. He was my truest friend, who wouldn't ostracise me for my partially human heritage, who was kind enough to approach the half-demon girl without fear, and share with her his treats or toys. He treated me with kindness and love when we grew up together at the orphanage. He always was supportive of me, even when I raised armies from outcasts and bestial races to raze the civilised lands that had cast down my father, the demon lord, and burned my poor mother on the pyre when I was but a little girl. I still do not know why they did that, my mother wasn't exactly a willing concubine to my father.
He is a good man. A simple man, but a good one. When I go out and conquer kingdoms and slaughter countless elves, he is at home, raising our children, being kind and friendly towards our slaves. I mean, I'm not mistreating them, but it is odd when he rewards them with baked goods for their work. I love him, but it is certainly, a bit difficult to bring devastation to the enemy when I know my husband would feel bad and use what little influence he has to set up relief efforts. It is a bit uncomfortable for my court of evil when my friendly and decent husband manages to convince evil nobles, beastmen chieftains, and dread necromancers to donate money towards aiding widows and orphans from the areas they have just destroyed under my command.
And he wants to help out. It's... hard, to find a position where he will be both safe, and feel like he is doing something worth while. His effort as a diplomat was, well, certainly interesting, but managing to convince people that I wasn't a bad person wasn't what was intended. He was supposed to convince them to surrender, now I have to endure the enemy asking to parlay and try to convince me to come back to the side of good. He means well. He did well when I put him in charge of a small side campaign, but he just doesn't cut it as a conqueror, the cities he took not being cleansed of elves, the churches of good gods still standing afterwards, and other such things.
He has even tried to really go ahead and be villainous, and I know why, he wants to be together with me, and I do love him. But he just isn't intimidating when he is 4 ft 11, clad in an apron, and asking people to politely bow down before me and worship me when convenient. The worst thing is that it usually works. He has heroic charisma, and people find it natural to listen to him. But it's all so... nice. He is the only person who has ever been nice to me, truly. And I can't bring myself to mistreat those people who he convinces to surrender.
He tries. He really tries. So I decided to put him somewhere useful. Where his niceness and kindness can be used for the benefit of my regime, where he can feel like he is doing worthwhile work to aid my empire and my ambition. I've put him in charge of the orphanages. There his ideas raises the countless orphans created under my rule as equals, with love and kindness, with loyalty to my regime, and soft understanding. There all races are treated as one, and taught my husband's principles of love, kindness, and loyalty. He has been so successful, I've decided to allow him to set up schools for all children, so they can be treated with respect and kindness, allowing them to grow and learn. Just like he treated me, when I was a lonely, unloved, orphan girl.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | Row upon row of Deadly Ninja Fighter Robots lined up in front of the Lady Torture, armed with a variety of shiny new dangerous weapons.
Lady Torture herself a Raven haired beauty, clad in leather and lycra, cackled from her podium.
"Excellent! My new army of Ninjabots will lay waste to Atro city! Not even the Power Hero 5 will be able to stop the onslaught! I will finally achieve my rule over these pitiful people, and then the World! No one ca..."
The side door opened with a loud creak.
In stumbled a skinny man wearing a denim jacket over a red T-shirt and cream Cargo trousers. In one hand he held a bag of groceries from the local FoodMart, under his other arm was a slightly dirty looking cardboard box with a few small holes punched into it. Occasionally the box would bump slightly or release a small squeaky "yip".
"Honey!" The man exclaimed with a beaming grin on his face.
"You'll never guess what I found on the pavement outside the shopping centre... Puppies! There so adorable you won't belie..."
He paused and looked from his wife's annoyed face to the silent menacing robots, his face then dropped as realisation hit him.
"Oh... I interrupted your Monologue again didn't I?" he said in hushed tone.
"Yes you did!, is it too much for me to ask for a little privacy in my lair?? Try to understand, I am trying to organise world domination!" Lady Torture yelled.
Looking at her husbands crestfallen face she sighed, she realised she should probably ease off of the loud voice.
"Look Geoffrey, we're Villains." She spoke with one hand rising to cover her eyes and rub her temples.
"How will puppies achieve our goal?"
"I could...uh..raise them to be our hounds...of doom?" Geoffrey stuttered in reply.
Lady Torture sighed once more. She then reluctantly motioned him forward. Excited once more Geoffrey bounded up the steps and deposited the box on the tabe in front of her.
"Don't worry they're Rottweilers, they'll be a great addition!" Geoffrey said pleased with himself.
Surprised with her husbands quoted find, she opened the box with great expectation. Inside was 6 little black puppies... but something was wrong.
She just stared.
"Geoffrey?...These are Dachshunds..."
"What?" Geoffrey said in obvious shock. He peered into the box at the little creatures bounding around in excitement.
"oh...so they are."
Lady Torture began to shake in anger.
"This is just like when I asked you to build those Prison Cells." she said through gritted teeth, a dark aura of energy building up around her.
"What was wrong with the cells?" Geoffrey said confused.
"You gave them full plumbing and vending machines with food in!!!" She roared.
"Well It would save time and cost with sanitation and hygiene, and anyway the true evil was in the prices! I mean, did you see how much I was charging for travel size chocolate bars?"
"That's not Evil, that's just being... cruelly enterprising!"
"Oh, ok... I'll go fix the cells." he replied sullenly, his shoulders drooped as he shuffled away.
Lady Tortures rage faded away, she felt bad. Not bad, bad... but bad, bad. Geoffrey did try his best, just to less than satisfactory results. She did love that quirky attitude of his.
'Besides' she thought looking down at the puppies once more
'These are...cute. Mabye I should bake him a dark chocolate cake to cheer him up...hmm but that'll look like I'm giving in... I'll guilt him into giving me a massage aswell'
She walked away cackling to herself in her mind. | 2020-04-14T06:19:41 | 2020-04-14T05:49:42 | 712 | 193 |
[WP] You died at the gym as you were trying to take a selfie while bench pressing. Thus you find yourself in Swaghalla, the Halls of Brodin.
EDIT. "Swaghalla" was the best pun I could come up with for Valhalla. Use something else if you have ideas.
Note: Swolehalla seems to be the proper name, pardon my mistake
second EDIT. Sweet, first time front page
third EDIT. I've had many good laughs brighten my Monday, thanks guys :D | A giant golden fist pushed through the clouds and stopped abruptly right in front of my face.
"Pound it!" A thundering voice came from every direction, causing my bowels to empty on the spot. I fell to my knees. "Pound it Chad", the voice continued.
This was not the gym anymore. I remembered trying to take a selfie, Justin was spotting me... Goddamn it Justin, you dropped it, didn't you? Son of a bitch, I'm dead. Is this heaven?
I slowly lifted my limp-wristed fist and lightly bumped the mass of gold that floated inches from my face. "Weaksauce", said the voice, and the fist slowly moved back into the clouds. "I am the Alpha and the Omega and Kappa and Gamma and all the other letters but not Beta. You are Beta. You are not worthy of Swaghalla. You are a little girly-man."
A swarm of triggers appeared and started jabbing me with their pointy bits. The sudden realization of my demise coupled with the God-tier shit-talk enraged me so much that I swept away the triggers with a roundhouse kick and ran after the receding golden fist.
Frothing at the mouth, I was able to punch the golden fist with great vigour right before the clouds joined. A great slash of light tore through the sky.
"Braaaaaaaaaah"
Millions of voices greeted me in canon. Swaghalla unfurled itself around me, and at first I couldn't fathom it. It kinda looked like an episode of Entourage, but there were mirrors everywhere. My mirror images were winking at me, flexing my muscles. Mirrors to the left of me, mirrors to the right, mirrors in front of me, it was super tight. And beyond, bros as far as the eye could see, lifting, repping, squatting, pumping. A kaleidoscopic spectacle of writhing man-meat.
Right when I thought there weren't any women, a super hot chick appeared. "Hello Brosephus Chad", she said. "Are you ready to meet Brodin? I'm super hot and really stupid."
I asked whether the golden fist had been his, and she answered "I don't know, I'm a hot chick." She opened her Louis Vuitton-branded wings and took off, beckoning me to follow her. A G5 materialized and I piloted it with my dick.
We arrived at Brodin's Abrode. Chauntelleigh said that his whole house was diamonds, and that I should watch what I say because Brodin's crazy. I rang the dumbbell and the diamond door opened, beset on both sides by the largest bouncers I'd ever seen. I walked through the hall and felt gravity getting stronger. Every step made me realize that for years I had been skipping leg day. There was no end to this hall, I walked for what felt like days. My chicken legs were turning into protein pylons and my spirit soared. Finally I reached what looked like a big massage table.
On it, spreadeagle, was Brodin, getting his anus bleached. He turned his head towards me and bellowed "Sup Chad, I've been expecting you". He looked like Donald Trump. "You almost didn't make it, girly man."
"I know sir, I was confused, I was just trying to take a self..." Brodin kicked his bleachboy into the ceiling, stepped off the massage table and was now all up in my grill with the intensity of a million cans of Monster.
"Why would you want to immortalize failure Chad?" His warm breath whispering like a hurricane. "You little ectomorph, you barely made it through the hall on those tinder sticks. Justin should have been here, but you saved his life by telling him that floor sushi is not okay brah."
"Can't you send me back? I'm so sorry Brodin, I'm sure we can work it out." Brodin lied down on the table, turned his head and said: "I'm fresh out of bleachboys Chad."
| "Woah."
The world around me is eerie and bright, like a morning hangover. I flip down my neon plastic shades. Much better.
How the fuck did I get here though? I was hulking out at the gym and--what's that sound?
*Clank. Clank. Clank.*
Wait, that's the gym. Someone's dropping plates. Scrub.
Hazy white mist swirls and clears before me and a giant wooden hall appears. Some kind of Skyrim shit. Seriously, where am I? I check my phone. No service, no maps. What the fuck? Only the smiling picture of my babe on my background. Did her eyes always look that distant and empty?
The clanking intensifies. It's coming from the weird wooden building. I approach. Maybe some dude there can tell me what's happening.
When did this shit get so far away? And why is this path so steep? Shoulda done some cardio once in a while, damn.
I reach the top and find two Monstar-looking dudes pumped out with their arms crossed on either side of some kind of Ninja Turtle door. Carvings of dragons and trees and some kind of jank-ass goat spider thing. I give them a head nod, you know the one. Dudes just keep on with their Buckingham shit.
"Yo dude. Where am I?"
"You're in Swaghalla," one says, not even turning his head.
"This is the Hall of Brodin," says the other.
"Okayyyy. Y'all have a phone I can use? I'm not getting service out here."
"To enter the Halls of Brodin, you need only open the door."
I eye up the door again. Mounted on either one of the double doors are what I can only guess are some kind of whale bone. The fuck? The sound of plates dropping keeps coming through.
"Whatever. I can open a door."
They don't answer.
I walk up and grab the bone. It's got these little pits on the inside edge that skeeze me out. I swallow. No problem, no problem. I got this. Just do it. DO IT.
I pull. Shit balls, this is heavy. I square up and brace, digging my heels into the ground. It doesn't move. Fuck. No way. I try again. My lungs are tight, my chest is like a steel-trapped barrel. I force exhale against a closed throat. Move damn it. Move. My vision goes white on the edges. I'm maxing out. God damn it. It's just a door. It's just. A. Do--
I'm flat on my back in the gym. A dude's on my chest with his lips on mine. I see my eyes refected in his. He gets off.
"No homo, brah," he says.
"What the fuck?" I say.
My bar is on the mats next to me. A bench is collapsed nearby. My chest hurts.
"You died, bro."
"Fuck." | 2015-11-02T06:36:33 | 2015-11-02T06:32:26 | 47 | 10 |
[WP] Your spouse is from a fantasy world. This is the first time they visit Earth, a place with no magic whatsoever. | “Aha!” Arkinius brandished his sword in the direction of a confused pigeon. “What manner of beast is this?”
I gently took his arm and lead him farther away from the park before any of the concerned parents could say anything to us.
“Some fledgling of sorts!” My husband looked over his shoulder as the bird took flight.
“It’s just a pigeon, Ark. A lot of animals here are completely harmless. Could you please put that away?”
“Piercing Flame cannot be sheathed in a foreign land, Melissa! There are unknown dangers!” Despite his protest, Arkinius hid his sword so only the hilt could be seen under his deep green cloak.
I shrugged deeper into my jacket. It was autumn in Michigan, beautiful but chilly. The promise of a long winter clung to the air. “Believe me, there are no real dangers here. Just inconveniences,” I grumbled.
"Nice cosplay, man!" A young man waved at us from across the sidewalk.
"Thank you, good sir," Arkinius waved back then leaned into me. "My dear, what is *cosplay*?"
"Just ignore him."
"You look cold. Allow me!" Arkinius grabbed hold of my arms and put his forehead to mine. "*Rolac*."
Several passerby's stopped to stare.
I pulled away, embarrassed. "I told you, Ark. That doesn't work here."
My husband frowned in disappointment then hurt sprigged his eyes. I took in the man before me and sighed. He was so well renowned in his homeland. He was fearless, a valiant fighter and a famous magic wielder. This man was everything to little ordinary me.
"Forgive me," I took his hand. "I just don't want to be here."
Arkinius kissed me boldly and someone close by whistled.
"But we are on a new adventure together! This is a new land to explore and discover! Just think of the mysteries we will uncover about this strange new place... Why are we here anyway?"
My face darkened, "I was summoned."
"By whom, Melissa?"
"Jury duty." | "How do you soar, how do you fly
When the tethers of an Earth so tame
Constrain all into the crippling mundane?
 
"The hearty flourish of a wand,
The volcanic sparks of glamour,
Fill awed souls with its fairy rapture."
 
So proclaimed my wife, Afreda, one of the wee folk,
Flashing that impish grin that skewered my heart,
Lured me into Other, unknown on terrestrial charts.
 
"No Orcs, no unicorns, no sorcerers raging?
No talking animals to occupy the vacant seats?
How do you eat without conjured treats?"
 
Oh Afreda! How can I explain to magic folk
Suckled on rainbows, courted by nymphs,
The allure of Earth's spell spun in silence?
 
The glow of a mountaintop the sun charges with amber,
The grinning eyes of a child, the happy bark of a friend,
Even the storms of war that imprint a demon's brand.
 
Isn't this where magic began?
 
We'll return, Afreda, to your mystical land,
But I'll hold a special favor for this Earth sublime,
Groaning through the ages with its familiar charm.
 
| 2017-11-21T16:39:16 | 2017-11-21T08:30:38 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] Write a light, happy story in which everyone dies. | “… and then I said, that’s no bulldog, THAT’S MY WIFE!”
The guests in the cramped living room erupted in laughter.
“Jesus, Frank…” Frank’s wife muttered.
“Oh it’s just a joke, honey.” Frank replied, “Oh I have one for you Charlie.”
The host cautiously entered the room carrying a tray of tea as the gracious guests each took one.
“For me?” Charlie delightfully asked.
“Yeah” Frank sat up straight, “ok… Why don’t blind people like to skydive?”
“Er – you got me there”
Frank, enjoying the anticipation, surveyed the room full of shaking heads.
“Because it scares their dog!”
A couple of laughs started.
“I don’t get it.” Frank’s wife said.
“You know, seeing eye dogs?”
“Oh-“ Frank’s wife chuckled in time with the rest of the enlightened head-scratchers.
“Oh frank you’re incorrigible” Charlie laughed. “I’m just thankful the good lord took my eyes so I won’t have to look at your face.”
More laughs as people sipped on their earl grey.
“That reminds me, anyone want a sweet two-year old boxer?” A husky man on the couch spoke.
“Oh no, you’re getting rid of Buddy?” A soft spoken woman answered.
“Unfortunately we will have to soon.” The man said patting his wife’s leg. “We’re pregnant. Well she’s pregnant, I’m just fat.”
The small crowd bursted into congratulatory banter and more laughter.
There was a rustling at the lock to the front door. Charlie’s wife, Susan, entered the room of bright faces.
“Hey Susan!” the crowd exclaimed.
“Hello everyone!” She exclaimed back. “Uh oh, looks like Frank had a bit too much again…”
She laughed and pointed at Frank, now passed out in the chair like a limp noodle.
There was a rustling of confusion among the group.
“We haven’t had any alcohol though…” The husky man finally chimed looking at Charlie.
Susan walked into the kitchen and immediately dropped her purse to the floor, mouth wide open. On the counter-top laid a box of rat poison, opened and lightly scattered around the box, she had bought from the store earlier that day.
“No matter how much I add it just isn’t sweet enough for me.” Charlie complained, scooping out a heaping teaspoon of powder from the small bowl into his cup. “More sugar anyone?”
| It was just Sara and I right now. Everyone else had gone home hours ago. Only the silent beeping of the heart machines interrupted the silence of the night. I'm used to those now. They don't keep me up anymore. Instead, I spent the last hour near Sara just reminiscing on all the memories we made. Oh what good ol' days! I think my favorite was day we snuck out from our families at the lake and spent the afternoon alone. I realized I loved her that day and I wanted to marry her. We had our first kiss and a few other firsts as the sun set over the hillside in the distance. I remember the wedding dress and the dazzling smile beaming from her face. I remember the trip to Paris and the Eiffel tower. I remember breaking down in the side road and just laughing together that, in all places of the world, we broke down in Paris and had no idea where to go. I remember the scary jump we made as we moved across the country for her work. I remember the times we fought and how we always made it to the other side.
There are just too many memories. As I got older, I'm glad I never forget the important ones. I couldn't imagine a life continuing without her. Eighty-seven years is a long time to be married but it goes by so fast. Deep down inside, I think as she continues to fade and pass away, I will be very close behind. | 2016-07-14T16:50:42 | 2016-07-14T16:33:28 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | Doing things that you are not supposed to was one of my skills that always got me in trouble. My mother, being a lady of the Night Market, took medicines and herbs so that she could not be with child, but one unfortunate evening I was born nonetheless. I wan't meant to survive in this cruel city on my own after my mom died but I did anyway. People told me I was not supposed to steal but I stole purses from unsuspecting merchants on busiest of streets anyway. People told me I was not to sleep in the alleyways of the city, but I did anyway. However, all these defiance never did me any good. I was alive but hungry. I was asleep but cold. The days went as usual until today when I wasn't supposed to wake up but I did it anyway.
The Medicine is not so expensive, even the lowest of beggars can afford it, and if one begs nicely he will not go without it even in this wrenched town. Sometimes people want to die and don't take it. It is only rarely anyone dies entirely due to lack of The Medicine. But why I didn't take The Medicine yesterday? Well I forgot and not until I went to the market for a new vile and found a full vile in my pocket, I remembered I had forgotten to take it yesterday. I was surprised at first that I had never met a person who ever forgot to take it but I ran cold when I thought why it was so.
Sitting beside the fountain in town square, I watched people run here and there full informed of the death creeping inside them, ready to consume them if they forgot to take the medicine. But had anyone tried to see if they can live without it? the question bugged me. People never went far from the city for fear that they will run out of The Medicine. Long distance trade was all but myths. Travelling was death. Until today.
| 2017-07-14T14:46:36 | 2017-07-14T10:49:00 | 54 | 32 |
[WP] You are a supervillain, but every single one of your plans of world domination has somehow collapsed into a harmless flirtatious encounter with the superhero by accident. Today, the superhero has come to propose to you. | I am sick of this chaos in my life.
All I wanted was to rule the world and kill off that pesky gnat of a super hero. However, everytime I try it only backfires.
Stupid software update making my murderous robots give her a nice pixie cut. Stupid poison failing to kill her while we had a pleasant dinner together.
Today that all stops here. All she has to do is walk into the warehouse door where I will press a button on a remote. From there I will descend into a fall out bunker while she rots away with the surrounding city from an atomic bomb.
And so I stand at my platform, awaiting her arrival from the fake kidnapping news. With a gentle creak, she calmly walks through the door. Her short red hair bristles in the wind as her costume tightly hugs her hour Glass body. Her hazel eyes sparkle in the sparse lighting of the warehouse and begins to move her cherry red lips.
"Dread Line?" she calls as she carefully moved further into the warehouse.
I cackle loudly as I slam on the flood lights to reveal the nuclear warhead and me. "The games stop here, Scarlet Eagle!" I boast as I present my finely tailored purple suit, spiked blonde hair, brown eyes, and devilish smirk with the nuclear warhead. "With the press of a button, I shall turn you and the rest of this pathetic city into radiating piles of ash while I relax in a lead shelter. There's no where you can fly to escape the blast. Any last words?"
"Yes actually," she says while slowly going on one knee and pulling out two leather boxes. I stand there stunned as she opens them to reveal a gold band and pure diamond ring. "Will you marry me?"
I stare into those hazel eyes. They sparkle beautifully in an almost hipnotic manner. I look back at the remote and back at her and then back at the remote. My chest is pounding. My heart is thawing. My bitter hatred is starting to melt away.
"They want me to help serve as an advisor to the UN, but I don't know much about politics and could really use the help of a nice person."
I slowly bring the remote closer to me and rip the batteries out before throwing it to the side. I slowly walked down to meet her as tears start to well up in my eyes. She stands back up as I slip her diamond ring onto her silky smooth hand. I finally stare back into those shimmering hazel eyes and quietly whisper "Yes" before wrapping my arms around her and letting my lips entwine themselves with hers.
Thanks for reading. Feedback is appreciated. | Superhuman pairs have advantages. The general norm is to find a mate who is your opposite. In a dangerous line of work which involves risking your life constantly, this ensures that the person who can kill you won't.
"My love for you is true". This is Mike "Mantle" Menzenta. He's a superhero. Not any superhero either. He's the nation's most powerful superhero. The one to whom every other superhero bows down. The one who's always there to foil my plans. The one who's also a pervert and likes to use his X-ray vision for unwarranted uses.
He is the also the kind of man who cannot take a "no" from a woman. He has been pestering me since I was a bank robber and he was just a suburban hero. Time and time again he's tried his ways and time and time again I've rejected his advances. He's not above playing dirty but he knows he can't succeed by trying such things on me.
What he cannot see however, Xray vision or not, is behind the heat resisting walls stands the hot headed Andria "Absolute Zero" Zera. She can also be introduced as Mrs Menzenta. She's had her doubts about her husband's infidelity but today she's sure of it.
Btw, I'm Lara. (Supervillians don't like publicity and don't need stupid gimmicky marketing names). I tend to amplify the emotions, feelings, beliefs or doubts a person/superperson may have.
| 2017-05-30T15:45:53 | 2017-05-30T14:03:23 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] There is a hiccup in the Force which causes Mace Windu to randomly change into a different Samuel L Jackson Character. | "Yoda!"
Mace, looked out the window upon the approaching spaceship. It matched the description of the one used by General Grievous, last spotted by spies in the outer rim.
"What, I ask?"
*Every time*, Mace thought. The Jedi master was a great teacher, but he was constantly wanting answers and explanations.
"Where is my Jedi Robe?"
"What, again I ask?", Yoda intoned back in his offputting style.
Obviously the years were starting to wear on the little master; his hearing must be fading.
"Where. Is. My. Jedi. Robe?"
"Put it away, I did"
Great. Now Mace would have to find out where Yoda secreted it this time. The last time it was in the youngling training area. Yoda Jedi skills were still formidable, but as he got on in years, a playful streak seemed to surface. He seemed to love nothing more than aggravate the other masters on the council.
"Where?"
"You need to know, why?"
*Because I need it, dammit*. That was what Mace really wanted to say, but the touch of the force convinced him to step it back and show patience to his elder.
"I need it", said Mace, dropping the harsher words and tone that his thoughts wished. (Though he did keep *some* edge in his voice)
"Uh-uh. Think you not about daring-do, off and running. Two months have we been planning youngling class!" Yoda spoke firmly, decisively, and were this any other occasion, Mace would have deferred to him.
"The Chancellor is in danger!" Even to Mace's own ears that sounded like an excuse, regardless of how much of the truth it contained.
"Future of the younglings, in danger is!"
Mace finally reached his breaking point. Yoda for all his greatness and wisdom could be a capricious little son-of-a-bitch.
"You tell me where my robe is, Yoda! We are talking about the greater good of the republic!"
But Master Windu, for all his years, didn't expect to have to contend with Yoda's sharp tongue.
"Greater good? Your master, I was! The greatest good I taught you when you were but a youngling! Hmm!" | Palpatine lay against the sill of the shattered window, defeated. Windu stood over him, lightsaber in hand.
"You are under arrest, my lord."
Just then, Anakin came running into the room. Palpatine wheezed, "Anakin, I told you it would come to this! The Jedi plot to destroy us!"
Anakin started to speak, but Windu turned to him and said loudly, "I don't remember asking for your opinion, motherfucker!"
He turned back to Palpatine, and pulled a pistol from the folds of his tunic, and pointed it to Palpatine.
"You read the Bible, motherfucker? Well there's this passage I got memorized, yeah?
"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee!" | 2017-05-09T10:48:45 | 2017-05-09T10:08:48 | 35 | 19 |
[WP] A supervillain and a superhero are roommates, but they don't know. Every day, they go out and do battle, and then they come back and take care of each other while lying about how they got all beaten up. | It's been a long fucking day for this supervillain. I hobble into my flat on my one good leg, after spending seemingly hours trying to get my keys into the door with my one good arm. And the Continuum Transmogrifier is gone, shattered into a million pieces. Like I said, it's been a disappointing day.
I hobble into the living room to see my flatmate in front of the TV, holding a beer to his face. His hair is blackened, is face covered in a thin layer of ash, and he turns to me, his eyes bloodshot.
"What the hell ? You look like a Mummy" He said.
"The fuck happened to you ? You look Wile E Coyote after one of his fuck-ups " I replied.
We both started laughing, and he got up.
"You need a beer, like yesterday dude"
"Doc said I had concussion. no beers for me.. but an ice pack would be the shit"
I slouch on the couch, and he comes back from the kitchen with an ice pack. I take it an put it to my shoulder.
"So what happened ?" he said
"Car.. came right at me" I say, the concussion preventing me from making up an outright lie.
"Aw man.. did you get any details?"
"Went by too fast. But that's my sob story, what the hell happened to you"
"Ah well... a fryer exploded at work. Someone tried to fry a turkey."
"Man, some people are too goddamn stupid to live"
"Ah, that kind of thing happens. You get used to it"
I glance at the TV, it's some reality dating show.
"Can we change the channel, I hate this reality show bullshit "
He picked up the remote and switched channels, and it was the news. Inside I groan, but I have a cover I have to keep up.
"Woah, keep it on the news" I say "I heard that The Birdman was fucking shit up on main street".
I hear him groan. I hate putting him through this, because he hates this superhero crap as much as I do. But there may come a time when I need a character witness.
The newscast played, with the anchor intoning
".... A brutal fight raged across main street as the Iron Bat attempted to flee from a robbery..."
I watch myself on the television. My costume seems so much less graceful in front of the cameras. I'll admit, my flying gear really isn't that elegant. Not compared to the Birdman. I watch him glide in and blind side me with a sucker punch. I whoop enthusiastically, whilst I hear groans from my companion.
"Look at all the damage these guys are causing"
I find it hard to disagree. Especially when I watch myself throw the Birdman headlong into an oil tanker. It bursts into flame. How could he survive that explosion? But of course, I turn my back on him, and just like always, he re-emerges. Covered in smoke and flames, still determined to fight.
He throws a goddamn truck at me when I have my back turned. I go down like a fucking ragdoll. Little do the newscasters know, but the continuum transmogrifier shatters in my pocket, instantly transporting me somewhere else. My only lucky break of the day.
"... the Iron Bat mysteriously escaped, and Birdman flew off, as always a mystery to the public he works so hard to protect."
I look at my flat mate, and then myself.
"Well, at least there are two guys who've had shittier days than us. Am I right ?" I say.
"Yeah" he pauses, frowning for a second "At least we're not them" | Today is a day like any other. Isabel and Rachel are sitting on opposite sides of their college dorm room facing away from each other and typing away on their computers. Isabel is writing a five page essay for her creative writing class while Rachel is wasting her time on some silly website named Blueit. These two college juniors may seem like ordinary young adults being productive, in the case of Isabel, or contributing absolutely nothing to the world, in the case of Rachel, but that could not be further from the truth.
Isabel, the superhero, and Rachel, the supervillain, are not ordinary college students. Isabel keeps the world from plunging into complete chaos while Rachel attempts to bring about the extinction of the human race. You may have failed to notice that these are conflicting world views. It is quite fortunate that Isabel and Rachel are not aware of each other's secret identities. However, the truth threatens to reveal itself on most days. Today is the day after Isabel and Rachel's most glorious battle making the truth more fragile than it has ever been.
As Isabel types her college essay a wave of intense pain washes over her right arm. She clutches her arm as she lets out a low, but audible moan. Rachel turns to face her and yells, "What the hell are you whining about?!" She sees Isabel cringing in pain and asks, "What happened to your arm?"
Isabel begins to panic as she searches her mind for a believable reason. Unfortunately being grabbed by the arm and getting thrown off a building by her supervillain enemy is not a believable reason. "Oh, it's nothing. I just fell off my bed last night and hurt my arm," Isabel says as she tries to hide her nervous expression.
Rachel furrows her brow, but eventually just turns back to her computer and mutters, "Whatever."
As Rachel turns Isabel notices a large scrape on Rachel's knee. Isabel questions her, "What happened to your knee?"
Rachel glances down at her knee, remembers her superhero enemy threw a car at her, and begins to form an incoherent sentence, "Well, um... Yesterday I was um... There was this thing with throwing a ca... I MEAN A BIKE."
"Did you say someone threw a car at you?" asks Isabel with a puzzled expression.
"Um..."
It is at this moment that Isabel realizes Rachel's true identity and Rachel realizes Isabel's true identity. Every strange incident throughout their entire friendship now makes perfect sense to them. Isabel and Rachel leap from their chairs and run towards each other starting another horrific battle.
Let's just say that there were no classes for anyone the following day.
*This is the second writing prompt I have done. Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!* | 2015-07-17T23:55:20 | 2015-07-17T21:25:53 | 115 | 25 |
[WP] You are the Chosen One. The Dark Overlord is currently trying to seduce you to their cause. To their great surprise, you accept almost immediately because you absolutely loathe your job and your companions. | "We're here," called Jon from the top of the hill. "I can see Dracos' castle!"
Fucking finally, I thought to myself. We'd been travelling through this gods forsaken wasteland for days with no food because that last asshole village refused to sell me any. One gold! I was short one fucking gold!
I was stirred from my borderline homicidal thoughts by a shadow passing over me. Looking up, I could see the black dragon himself descending from the sky, Demon Lord Dracos no doubt come to taunt me.
Dracos, the Demon Lord, Black Dragon of the Wastes, landed heavily and leaned down to speak. "Crythor, Chosen of the Gods, why not join me? Together, we could ru-"
"I'm in."
"-le the uni... Wait, what? You're in?"
"Yeah, let's go. Rule the world, slaughter innocents, enslave the masses, sounds great."
"But... Your quest! Isn't this the part where you prove your purity of heart and fight for your friends?"
"What, these assholes? I've had to save Joan from being kidnapped five times in the past month, Jon won't shut his fucking mouth for five minutes-"
From up the hill I could hear Jon shouting something about killing the Demon Lord and saving the world, but I knew he was too chicken shit to ever actually *do* any of that. Joan was off to my left. She had her leg somehow stuck under a rock again.
"And let us not forget our great healer, Mary!"
"I'll save you," Mary shouted behind me. I could see the warm green glow of a healing spell fly past my head and hit Dracos, reinvigorating him.
"I'm in as long as I get to kill these fuckwits."
Dracos scratched his head with one long claw. "Well, what about protecting the innocents? Surely as the Chosen Hero you must want to protect the innocents?"
I laughed. Even to me, it sounded a bit unhinged. "The innocents, the fucking innocents! Do you know what happened when I asked for some armor so you wouldn't kill me instantly? The blacksmith demanded I bring him fifty toads' legs! Fifty! He refused to give me armor or a weapon until I completed his chores! It's been the same at every town and village, to get so much as a cup of water I had to either pay an exorbitant price, more gold than I've seen in my life, or spend hours completing some stupid task!" I could tell I was rambling, so I slowly, deliberately drew a breath and counted to three. "I will gladly help you burn or subjugate any town you like, Dracos."
"Well, uh," I could tell Dracos was entirely unprepared and was desperately trying to think of something to say. "Weren't you ordered by the gods to kill me?"
I almost burst out laughing again. "Yep, Nirien walked out of the sea into my village himself to task me with your death. Do you know what I was given to aid me in my quest? A fucking 'blessing,' and I use the term loosely, that lets me talk to fish! Do you know how often I've had a chance to use it? Once! A salmon called me a dick for trying to eat it! Fuck the gods, they can get some new idiot to do their chores."
The great dragon paused for a minute, considering me. "Well, welcome aboard, I guess. Do you want any help killing your companions?"
"No no, I really want to do it myself."
"Alrighty, I'll meet you at the Black Keep, I guess. Dinner's at seven, we can talk over some roast boar."
As Dracos spread his wings and flew back to his keep and my stomach rumbled at the thought of freshly cooked meat, I turned to Mary and drew my chipped, dented blade. | I never believed in God. Ironic, seeing that I am anointed the First of the Chosen even before I was born.
But if there is God, then why are there so many demons? And their leader is currently sweeping the floor of her chamber too.
Her actions was mundane, and weirdly reminded me that I have to do everything. Other heroes in the legends get the woman, the riches. I get the chores, the work from everyone.
Beside me, The Second of the Chosen was hiding her smug smile. She was always the cunning one, but as First, I knew all long that she was playing me and had it all planned out.
She just makes me do all the work killing demons while she conserved her mana for 'insurance and safety'. All knows she was just preparing for her to get the killing blows and get all the levels and treasures.
I hated it. I hated being played the fool. I hated the politics of the Chosen, and was sure I will be reduced to nothing more than a shadow of myself once my worth was over crushing the one threat to the Chosen.
Then the Demon Queen spoke.
'My First, can you give in? I would let you be free.'
Free. No sooner than the word left her lips, I spun around and took the Second's head clean off.
The Demon Queen looked at me, shocked.
'Now this I never expected. You are the first among all the First I faced before that want to be free.'
'I want to be free from the Chosen. I am tired of it all. Let me be free.' I said.
'Ah. But perhaps I have changed my mind. You piqued my interest, young First. Your predecessors were never interested in the talk and thought me mad for offering freedom to them. They thought they can destroy me with their powers from being Chosen. The fools. They forget I was formerly part of the Chosen too... '
The revelation stunned me. The Demon Queen was a Chosen? While reeling from shock, I heard her continue her speech.
'... But you chose to be free. You have a gift. Let me grow it. Then WE can be free... Together.'
I looked at her. The Demon Queen must be a thousand years old now, but she does not look a day over 25. She was always described to have an unearthly beauty but now she radiated happiness. Perhaps having a potential partner in crime made her happy.
I looked at the severed head of the Second. I cannot go back to the Chosen after the crime of murder. If this must be done for me to be free of being the First...
'Manipulate me if you must. But I want to be free. I accept your offer.'
A small smile lit up the Demon Queen's face.
'Contract established.' | 2019-09-26T08:33:48 | 2019-09-26T08:06:06 | 48 | 36 |
[WP] Death always lets the doomed challenge him to any sport or game to save their lives. Death comes for a six-year-old boy. Death doesn't remember learning about Calvinball. | It was the most fun he'd had in years, and that was really saying something, given what he was. It was a game unlike any he'd permitted before, usually because the challenger had invented it on the spot in an attempt to beat Death at his own game. Calvinball was different, though. Calvinball (he'd been told) was a worldwide phenomenon (he hadn't been told who's world) with as dramatic and varied a history as any other game you might care to name.
The rules were simple, and soon Death was inventing them almost as fast the kid was. Right now they were wearing masks made of handkerchiefs and hopping circles in sackcloth bags with flags in their hands shouting words that rhymed with Calvinball, and every five they'd drop everything and start throwing balls through jump ropes tied in knots they progressively tightened after each turn.
Reffing the game was Hobbes - the stuffed animal serving as the kid's best friend and confidant. He kept things fair.
Death could see the kid was getting tired. The longer they played, the more surprised he got that Death could keep track of all the rules. The final goal of the game was to grab the baseball and use it go touch the tree, but that goal was as elusive as the setting sun, which held dead still in the sky as the pair rattled and sweat beneath it. At last Death called for a time out, pretending to be winded, but really just needing a break.
The two sat down on the park bench together, well, Death sat. Calvin swayed from leg to leg on top of the bench, still a full head shorter than the gay old Grim, clearly not so tired after all. "It's been noon for quite a while now, hasn't?" He observed. "AND YOU'VE BEEN SIX A GOOD WHILE LONGER YOURSELF," Death answered. They were silent for a bit. "ARE YOU HAVING FUN?" Death asked. "Oh yeah, buckets of it," Calvin said. "You're pretty good for a first timer." Silence again. "How long can we keep playing?" "FOREVER, IF YOU LIKE." Calvin nodded. "I'd like that."
An eternity passed - as such - and the game continued, with the rules growing more and more convoluted with every stretching second. Balls were passed, darts thrown, quilts were torn apart, and Calvin slowly began to understand just what forever meant.
They played until Death threw Calvin the baseball, and for the first time he didn't leap to catch it. Instead he watched it hit the ground and roll away. "You really meant it when you said forever, didn't you?" Death didn't respond. "You've just been toying with me, haven't you? Giving a little boy a false sense of hope." "...NO, I HAVEN'T," Death admitted, "I JUST HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO WIN YET." Death is many things, but if unfair, he's not a cheater. "GAMES USUALLY RUN MUCH SHORTER THAN THIS. PEOPLE TOO." Calvin thought about this. "You think I can win?" "YOU'D BE THE FIRST IN EIGHT THOUSAND YEARS." "So there's a chance?" "WELL, HONESTLY THE LAST ONE TO WIN AGAINST ME CHEATED." "Cheated Death?" asked Calvin. "IT WAS THE FIRST TIME SOMEONE TRIED IT ON ME. IT DIDN'T WORK THE SECOND TIME."
Calvin thought another moment, then picked up the baseball. "I thought I wanted to stay, but I guess it's my time to go." He held up the ball, and but hesitated when Death reached out to take it. "Hobbes... will he be okay?" "HIS TIME IS NOT FOR A LONG TIME," Death answered honestly. "All right," said Calvin, and gave the stuffed animal a hug. "I've gotta go now, buddy. Be good, all right? What? No, that wouldn't work. Don't be an idiot, Hobbes." He handed Death the ball, took his other, and nodded. The two approached the tree. Death raised the ball almost casually as they approached it, and in a flash the ball fell, the contestants vanished , the earth resumed its motion, and a small striped referee sat motionless, pondering whether the final point should really count, or be counted a foul. | Decided to swing with a more comedic approach, borrowing the whiny, inept, Jamaican-flavored Grim Reaper from Maxwell Atom's "The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy".
________________________________________________________________
"Now see here, boy! I told you dat I had time to kill before killing you, but dis charade has gone on long enough! I got dings to do!" Death lay low in the grass, a twelve-sided die clasped tightly between his bony fingers. He cast the die into the dirt and bowed his head in prayer. "Gibbe a tree! Sweet angel of life an' love, gib 'ol Grim a tree!" A little red shoe kicked the die just before it could come full stop. It bounced about the trees like a frenzied squirrel before finding a fine home for itself inside one of the Reaper's empty eye-sockets. Death buried his chin in the dirt and wept. "Dis ain't fair, mon! Dis ain't fair!" He rose to his knees just long enough to jab a bony finger against his adversary's dimpled cheeks. "You cheat!"
"I never said it was fair, old man." The child bounced his red ball against the reaper's skull one, two, three, four times before passing it to his stuffed tiger, who caught the ball with great ease and an exaggerated flick of his furry wrists. The tiger toddled over to the reaper just as he was righting himself, and after offering him opponent a gentle wave, pegged him over the head with the ball, knocking him back into the rough. His paper hat sailed through the air and landed softly atop his bony butt. His mask lay somewhere far off over the horizon, shattered, tattered, and very lonely. The young man paced about the reaper, fingers locked and one eye closed, framing death's defeat against the backdrop of the setting sun. His tiger joined him by his side, and scooped up the ball.
"Think I killed him?" the boy asked, jumping up and down a little. The tiger cocked his head and raked his claws across his muzzle.
"I think it'd be better if you hadn’t, considering who he said he was. He sure isn't moving much." He bent down and poked the reaper gently with his tail and then pawed the back of his neck in a worried, regretful manner. "I think we may have made a big mistake, Calvin." The little boy didn't hear him. He was too busy rummaging through the reaper's cloak. The tiger shrugged and leaned over his shoulders to supervise.
"Looking for the die?"
"Nah," the boy answered, sieving a roll of expired gift cards through his sweaty fingers. "Credentials." A little white fanny-pack with crossbone stitching lay tucked between the folds of Death's cape. The boy unzipped all five of its mouths and shook it until he drained every last paperclip, tic-tac, and discarded receipt from its dusty guts. The last item to fall was a big black business card. The boy looked it over carefully and then pressed it against his lips, smooching it. The tiger raised his eyebrows.
"What was it he bet again? He sounded pretty sure of himself, so I think it was something really important." The boy sat in the grass, plying the dull edge of the reaper's scythe against his calloused hands.
"His job."
| 2015-12-31T17:49:43 | 2015-12-31T16:24:13 | 52 | 22 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "For many years now, the Islamic State has been a thorn in the side of the Middle East," the President told Congress. "Carving out territory from Syria, Iraq, Turkey, and Lebanon. Though many nations, including the United States, took *limited* action against this threat, no country was willing to finally commit to cleaning up this scourge, until *now*."
The President gestured to the man to his right, a quiet black man wearing a a dark suit and a red tie. "My good friend, King Mswati, has ended this threat once and for all. His military's effectiveness has been unprecedented, and the finally stronghold of Al Raqqa was liberated only a short month ago!"
The assembled Congressmen all clapped and cheered.
"So," the President continued. "It is with great honor that I present this Congressional Medal of Freedom, given for meritorious contribution to the security or national interests of the United States, to King Mswati of Sweden!!"
The room erupted into applause, but the king looked uncertain. He glanced around like he was waiting for some sort of cue. Finally he approached the microphone. "Err, sorry, Mr. President. I'm actually from *Swaziland.*"
The President stepped back up to the microphone. "Sorry, King Mswati. My mistake, and thank you again to you and the rest of the great people of Switzerland!!" | Reports come in today that North Korean president Kim Jong Un has launched a nuclear weapon in response to the sanctions imposed by the US and China. However, North Korean scientists miscalculated the trajectory of the missile leading it to land in Raqqa, Syria. An upcoming UN meeting of World Leaders will decide if North Korea will be faced with nuclear warcrimes and if foreign peacekeepers are to be sent. | 2016-01-29T06:30:22 | 2016-01-29T06:09:39 | 481 | 277 |
[WP] You’re an immensely powerful immortal wizard who’s survived until modern day. When you get transported to another world of fantasy, you can’t help but get a little nostalgic. | For as long as I could remember, I had been a wizard, wielding immense power and living for countless centuries. I had seen civilizations rise and fall, and I had been a part of many of them. But no matter how much time passed, I remained ageless and unchanged, a being of pure magic.
As I wandered the world, I came across many other beings like myself, but I always felt like I was different. I was more powerful than most, and I had an understanding of magic that surpassed even the greatest of my peers.
But despite my power, I never allowed myself to become complacent. I constantly sought out new knowledge and ways to improve my abilities. I spent countless hours in my laboratory, experimenting with new spells and ancient artifacts.
One day, while I was deep in thought, I was suddenly transported to a strange new world. It was a world of fantasy, filled with mythical creatures and ancient magic. I could feel the power of this world coursing through my veins, and I knew that I would be able to unlock even greater abilities here.
As I explored this new world, I couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia. It reminded me of the days when magic was a mysterious and powerful force, not something that was understood and controlled. I reveled in the feeling of being surrounded by ancient magic, and I knew that I would be able to accomplish great things in this world.
I quickly made a name for myself in this new world, using my immense power and knowledge of magic to help those in need. I fought against evil wherever I found it, and I worked tirelessly to protect the innocent.
But despite my power and my immortal status, I never lost sight of my humanity. I always remembered that I was a wizard, a being of magic and wonder, and I used my abilities to make the world a better place.
As I continued to explore this new world, I discovered hidden secrets and ancient artifacts that even the greatest scholars had never seen before. I spent countless hours studying and learning, unlocking the mysteries of this magical world.
And although I knew that I would never truly belong in this world, I was content to live out the rest of my days here, surrounded by the beauty and magic of this fantastical realm. I was an immensely powerful immortal wizard, and I had found my home. | I am an immensely powerful immortal wizard who has survived until modern day. I have seen countless civilizations rise and fall, and I have watched as the world has changed beyond recognition.
But despite my great power, I have always felt a little lost in this modern world. I long for the days of old, when magic was a common sight and adventure was just around every corner.
So when I was transported to another world of fantasy, I couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic. This was a world that reminded me of the one I had left behind so long ago.
I wandered through this new land, marveling at the sights and sounds around me. I met brave warriors and cunning thieves, and I fought alongside them against fierce monsters and treacherous villains.
And as I journeyed through this world, I couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for the days of old. But I knew that I could never truly return to that world, for it no longer existed.
But still, I took comfort in the knowledge that I was still able to experience the thrill of adventure, even in this strange new world. And as I continued on my journey, I knew that I would always have a home in the realm of fantasy. | 2022-12-06T21:28:39 | 2022-12-06T21:22:35 | 41 | 21 |
[WP]You die. Next thing that happens, is a man in a lab coat unplugs you from some sort of machine. "Your five minutes are up. Hope you had a nice time and welcome back anytime. NEXT!"
What are your thoughts, how did you find the experience of living a whole life in five minutes? Do you remember your real life before plugging in or are you now lost in a strange world?
Edit: I'm glad so many of you took part. I'm saving some for when I go to bed. Thanks! | It takes me a moment to get my bearings. I step out of the pod.
"Whoa, now, watch your step!" The aide at the side of the Transmuter helps me get my feet under me. Walking again. It is strange returning to the sensation of my real feet. I shift in place for a moment, and finally walk out of the room as the aide helps a woman into the machine.
After putting on my suit, I call my mother from the lobby of The Transpositional Industry. She arrives in five minutes. She is late, but it has been a busy day at the marketplace. Everyone is getting ready for the big day. The Day of Great Travel. The alien leaders have finally consented to meeting in person, after several years of deliberation. Their world's great leaders will dock their ship on one of Jupiter's moons, where our two species will exchange gifts and technological advancement. Their machines are curious, they have several ways of communicating via radio and light waves which we have not discovered in nearly two hundred years of experimentation.
We walk back to our living quarters. "How was your first experience in the Transmuter?" Mother asks.
"It was quite pleasant. Except for the ending. Death is very painful for their species."
"Ah, yes. Well, not all of them. I remember my first time. I inhabited a lovely female of their species who lived to be 79 of their years. She was quite a remarkable musician, although their forms of music are... difficult to understand."
"Mother?"
"Yes dear?"
"Why do we study the aliens this way? To go through their entire lives and live them as our own? They seem such a private species. What if they complain?"
We have arrived. My mother stands in the doorway and takes a deep breath. "You know that the aliens are a war-faring species, even more than we are. The Great Wars of our world fail to compare to the destruction they can cause on their own. So when the Transmuter was invented, The Ministry of Intergalactic Affairs decided it would best be put to use understanding their people, to prevent as much disagreement between us as possible. We live their lives to understand their emotions. Do you understand?"
"I understand." It is good to be human, to think like one. Our race will lead all other aliens to peace. I am comforted by the thought.
We step inside. My brother is waiting at the door, excited. I bend down to look in his eyes. "How was your day?"
"It was good. I saw a human today on the Galactic Signal."
"Oh really? Tell me all about it, K-halienii." | I could have prevented the crash. I could have swerved out of the way. I looked around and saw smoke everywhere. Pieces of car scattered along the hard concrete. The smoke kept getting thicker, as if it was swallowing me, eat me. My vision failed, I wanted to move my arms but they weren't there. The thick gas got inside my lungs and closed its hand, forcing the rest of the air in my body to disappear. I was going to die. I just died. But if i'm dead, how can I still think. My brain is still working, but i'm dead.
The smoke lifted and I saw a bright light. Heaven? No, it was a lamp. Was I in the hospital? I jerked up, realizing both arms worked. "Your five minuets are up. Hope you had a nice time and your welcome to com back anytime," a tall skinny man said while scribbling away in an old notebook. "NEXT!" he screamed. I jumped out of the chair. I was wearing a white sundress, and brown saddles, and my hair was in loose curls that framed my face.
"What..." I began to say
"Go out into to the hall Nicole, the nurse will explain everything to you." The nurse? So I was in a hospital. Was the crash real, where was I? I had so many questions in my head, I couldn't walk. "Nicole you need to go out now, it's somebody elses turn." the man said sternly. Nicole, my name was Nicole. Who am I, and what is this place? | 2015-03-02T21:00:16 | 2015-03-02T20:01:26 | 29 | 19 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick of being ignored and insulted all the time, so they join the bad guys. They are a much more effective villain than anyone thought possible. |
It wasn't right, the goblins were organized. He was used to the ambushes being limited to several of them jumping out of a bush screaming, followed by his sword coming down, and more screaming. It was routine, it was expected, and it was normal. Now they were forming spear walls and he could have sworn that the smaller ones were dragging wounded goblins back. A fireball crashed into a spear formation.
"Ral, there's no end to them!" a robbed man in a pointy hat hurriedly searched in a pouch.
Two small goblins ran out of a bush, hefting a bucket before dousing one of the goblins hit by the fire.
"They seem to keep coming back Zed, how many fireballs do you have left?"
Ral continued to chop his sword down at the goblins, but one of them kept interfering with a pitchfork.
The goblin looked up, determination flaring in his eyes.
Zed's skin went pallid, "They knicked the rest! It must have been knicked when that skirmish force attacked Sylva."
A blonde pointy eared female twitched on the ground near a bow.
"She was barely more useful than Lornir, and he's gone missing." Ral kept striking down on a pitchfork held by a goblin, hoping that enough strikes would break it. "Useless."
Waves of goblins moved around them, forming a ring. Something much taller in comparison emerged from the treeline. Ral recognized the white robes as it spoke out in a soothing voice.
"Well now Ral, that sort of attitude has gotten you into this predicament in the first place." He waved his hand over a few scorched goblins. They got up and rejoined the wave around them. "It's important to fit in."
"You've got to be kidding me." Ral struck down at the pitchfork wielding goblin, only to impale the pitchfork into the ground. Another pitchfork moved forward in the spear formation. "When we're done here, I'm going to gut you. I've let you have ten percent of the shares and this is how you show gratitude?" He was attempting to scream through his teeth.
Lornir brushed his hair out of his eyes. "You've been mistaken this whole time. It is not my responsibility to heal anything, if anything, I choose who lives..." He whistled through his fingers loudly, the ring of goblins rushed together, closing the iris of the green wave. "...and who dies." A smile grew across his face, he wasn't sure if Ral had heard him, but he no longer cared if he had or not. And that was a comforting thought. | *Healer*
The title made her sick to her stomach to hear. She didn't exist solely to cure the injury and disease of adventurers too careless or stupid to avoid the injury. She hadn't minded before the Rift between the team but they wouldn't stop fighting and hurting each other so she put a stop to it. Xantas was the first to fall. His super speed was of little use when she reached her mind into his joints and dislocated all of them at once. She would have just broken his neck but he stood by and helped to cover up what happened. So he would lie there screaming until she was ready to release him from the pain. Daishute was still in his study. He always was. The world's greatest martial artist had always supported her and was the deciding vote to add her to the team. She remembered that and reached out to him and closed his carotid artery and he instantly passed out. She reopened it enough that he would sleep thru what was to come. The Junior guard had been sent to training in the dimension of insanity so she would need to deal with them later. But she wasnt worried. Her newfound calling gave her all the time she needed. They would come to her when the time was right. Finally she walked into Sol-Mans chambers. He was the one who had hurt her. The one who had mocked her when she told him she would go to the press. He was the one who set her on this path. For him she set all his nerves off at once. He tried to scream but she wouldn't let him. This is what real power can do she thought as his eyes widened and finally went dark. It was done. As she left, she saw Xantas passed out in a puddle of his own filth. Fitting he'd be found that way. She crushed his heart into itself and walked out of the Hall of Justice. She wondered what she would have for dinner. Something cold no doubt. | 2019-03-05T13:50:16 | 2019-03-05T12:50:59 | 48 | 27 |
[WP] a woman has been dating guy after guy, but it never seems to work out. She’s unaware that she’s actually been dating the same guy over and over; a shapeshifter who’s fallen for her, and is certain he’s going to get it right this time.
Horror story or romantic comedy? | "Raul," crooned Raul in a very suspicious French accent, as he took the lady's hand and graced his eager lips on it. "Let me guess," he continued, releasing his grip and pulling a chair out from the table. "Sit, please. Let me guess, you're a Mari- no, no, you're a Cassandra? I'm right, am I not?"
*Suave.* Yes, that was what he would be today.
The woman's botoxed forehead tried its best to frown, her lips fighting (and losing) a similarly uneven battle. "How on Earth did you know that?"
Raul slicked his dark hair back with ringed fingers. "Your beauty, it was that of a Maria, or a Cassandra, and there was a certain radiance that could be of no Maria. I see, no wrinkle has dared to blight your perfect face -- that tells me all I need to know." He lowered his voice to a rippling whisper. "*All I need to know.*"
Cassandra giggled through perfectly still lips as she slid into a seat. "My," she said, "You are a charmer. And that accent... Australian?"
"Australian?"
"Yes. I'm certain of it. I've got an aunt who lives there, and strike me down if you don't sound *just the same!* Don't worry -- she's a smoker."
Raul cursed himself silently. He hadn't done enough research for the role. No, it was fine -- he'd improvise.
"Yes, mate. Good catch."
He sat in his seat and raised a hand, clicking his fingers to gain the attention of a waiter. "If I had a bloody boomerang, I'd get us the wine myself," he said with a wink.
Another half chuckle as the waiter approached. Raul knew her very favourite drink, her very favourite food... Yes, this time he'd get the pudding he'd been after for so long. But he had to be confident. She liked confident.
"Lambrusco, for the lovely Sheila. And the house re- a uh..."--he swallowed hard--"Fosters for me."
The waiter lifted his head and eyed Raul snobbishily. "*House Fosters*, sir?"
"Yeah," Raul replied, tugging at his shirt. "You know, out of the house tap."
"Very good, sir. And to eat?"
"Pie and chips for the lady, and... do you do anything off the barbie?"
"Sir?"
"Struth. Just a burger then, mate."
The lady eyed Raul with suspicion. "I wouldn't normally let someone order for me, but... How did you know I loved pies?"
"Know? Oh, that you're a classy pie lass? Well, it's obvious ain't it."
"Is it?"
"It is to me. A lady who would wear a fashionable tracksuit like that, to a place like this, well, she'd be after the fanciest meal on the whole bloody menu."
If she could have smiled she would have done, Raul hoped. God, she was beautiful. Beneath all that make up. Maybe. Raul began to sweat. This was the best any of their dates had gone *to date*. He couldn't mess it up now. It was time to lay his heart on the table.
"Look, Cassandra, I'm gonna' level with you. I think you're mighty fine, and I reckon you think I'm fine. I mean, I figure I'm the sort of guy you'd normally go for."
Cassandara shrugged. "Eh."
"Eh? What do you mean, 'eh'"?
"You're a little too pretty-boy, for my tastes, to be honest."
"You can't be serious. You can't be bloody serious! I've seen all the men you've rejected. What the hell is left?"
Cassandra went tense. "You've *seen* the men I've been out with?"
"Well I er, oh struth," Raul said sadly, knowing he couldn't stop it now. The man's stylish exterior began to wilt, his skin flaking to reveal the green monstrosity beneath. Screams echoed about the restaurant and cutlery migrated high in all directions.
"Wh-what kind of monster are you?" asked Cassandra, her lips trying desperately to quiver.
"Me?" Raul asked, a rage in the pit of his stomach rising. "Me?! What the hell kind of monster are *you*? -- That's the real question! I've tried *everything* to please you. I've been Brad bloody Pitt and Oscar bloomin Wilde. Nothing makes you happy. Nothing!" He realised at this point that he didn't *need* to keep the accent up, but there was something rather bloody pleasing about it.
"Th-hey were *you*?"
Raul's skin began to change again, his black hair falling out in thick clumps, while greasy blonde hair sprouted hurriedly in its place. It took only seconds for Cassandra to be face to face with... Cassandra.
"This," said the new Cassandra, as it got up from its seat, "Is the only person I think you could ever love. You are the worst specimen of any creature I've ever met. And I've been to the Betelgeuse system *and* Scotland. Good day to you!"
Raul/Cassandra had almost stomped its way to the door, when it heard the plaintive scream from behind and stopped in its tracks.
"Waiiit!"
The other Cassandra came running up to it.
"What do you want now? Come to mock me one last time?"
"Mock? No! I'd never mock someone like you. Mmm mm mmmm, you are *gorgeous*. I think... I think I was a bit hasty. How about one more try?" she asked with a salacious wink.
Raul/Cassandra smiled. *Finally*.
"Can you change *any* part of your body?" she inquired as they walked back towards their table.
| "I don't know... I just got out of a relationship and need to figure out myself first. I think I'm just looking to be friends right now."
That same line every time. What a pallid lie it was. I kept trying to imitate what I thought she liked and every time it felt like I had gotten closer, but it never stuck. We'd always end up taking this same stupid walk near her house and she'd stop by this same shitty bench and she'd say those same words, give a small hug and disappear into the distance. Ironic, for a man who could be anyone or theoretically do anything to end up in this Groundhog Day-esque scenario over and over.... and over. A few forms ago I got to a fourth date with her and we made out a bit, but she had stopped me and we had gone on this same walk in the end anyways.
I slunk sadly back to my apartment, thinking about the disappointing night. My approach had gotten more refined- tattoos on arms, glasses, a little muscular but slim seemed to be the most consistent- and personality I hadn't gotten down yet either. Currently I was rotating through skin colors and hair texture to see if that made a difference. I don't think it did, really. I would throw something in from a few forms ago every now and then - large biceps and gym rat personality had gotten to a third date, but ended up as broken as all the previous ones. Nothing but those same words and that ridiculous sorry look on her face.
Shutting the door once I was inside, I set myself down in my office chair and grabbed my camera, snapping a selfie on the old-fashioned polaroid and began taking notes on the back. I suppose my detailed process had forced the second room in my apartment to look a little bit erratic, sure. But I had to document my progress and notes on what seemed to have an effect and what didn't, I couldn't keep track otherwise. My walls were plastered with polaroids of my different forms, copious information about her and her preferences. I don't like feeling like a creep, but I needed her, and I needed her to need me.
I went to my fridge, grabbed a beer and my newest notebook, and went back to my room to study. I was getting desperate. I kept trying to think of how to get closer, how to figure her out and get her to spill what exactly she was looking for in a romantic partner. I kept looking at my notes covering the walls, trying to figure out what I could do differently.
And suddenly I had a thought. Maybe when I was a man I was just too intimidating... she did keep herself more veiled around them. Perhaps if I could approach her- just as a friend- she would come to share more with me over time, and then I could get it right later. I changed forms again.
I knew she had that open art workshop on Thursday nights, so I spent all of Wednesday and late into the night practicing with my new voice to get every nuance down.
When I arrived at the class, I could feel my heart beating in my chest. I hoped this would finally be the time she could learn to talk more with me, and hopefully in a few more forms I would have it down and I would finally be perfect for her.
I tried to not look over, to be nonchalant for once.
She stood there at the entrance with her easel in hand, quietly sipping on her coffee, and wandered over and took the empty seat next to me.
She greeted me, I tried out my new higher voice and we talked on and off as we worked on our pieces, her asking me questions about myself with vigor. This was working, for once. I'd spend a bit more time getting to know her, then take that information and be the man she always wanted.
But then I saw a look in her eyes I hadn't seen before. She smiled coyly. "Wanna grab a drink later?"
I mean, that did explain a lot, in retrospect. For someone who prided himself on being observant, evidently I missed this one.
At the bar and several cosmos in, I was losing coherency as she told me story after story I had never heard. The tension between us was palpable... The woman I wanted and knew so much about was melting before me and flirting like never before. She finally suggested we head back somewhere more private... I said my apartment was just around the corner in my drunken stupor, and she dragged me out of there by my arm.
This was it. I felt myself trembling as we barely sloshed home to my apartment. I kept stumbling. I don't think my alcohol tolerance had caught up to me in my smaller body now.
"Waitwait", I barely slurred out once inside my door, "Leeetme tidy up my bed, njust a second."
I threw my clothes, trash and every other unkempt item in the room hastily into my closet, and went back out to get her.
But she stood further up the hall, at the doorway to my second bedroom, looking inside and frozen in fear. | 2022-08-24T03:20:20 | 2018-02-14T10:10:24 | 1,353 | 30 |
[WP] The mail room for a large government building receives an envelope of glitter. The staff recognizes it as a common prank and resumes work. Over the next week, they notice the glitter is not going away, and seems to be spreading. You are the first to recognize the worlds first nanobot attack. | Someone once said that the world wouldn’t end with a bang, but with a whimper. I bet they didn’t think it would end with *sparkle*.
It all started with an incompetent mail room worker named Mark. You see, Mark’s uncle was one of those middle management government types, and he pulled some strings as a favor to his favorite sister, and got Mark his first real job. Because Mark, well, was *special*. And before you get all pissed at me, I don’t mean special like *that*.
I’m just trying to illustrate that Mark didn’t always think like you or I would. Because if you worked in a government building in the mail room, and you opened an envelope and a bunch of glitter poured out, you would probably call it in and quarantine the building. You probably think, *duh*, who wouldn’t?
Well, *Mark*, that’s who. Mark had always loved glitter, ever since he was a kid and used to try and eat it. At least he finally outgrew that habit, but still, when he opened that envelope, I imagine that Mark must have been very excited.
So excited, in fact, that he decorated the entire mail room with it.
Well, the building *did* get quarantined, but it had gotten out by then. Maybe someone carried it out with them on their shoe, or like Mark, just really liked how pretty it was. It honestly doesn't even matter. Because like real glitter, the not-glitter could get fucking *everywhere*.
I should probably stop shitting on Mark, especially after how he died. Because it turns out Mark had decided to revisit eating glitter after all. What a gross way to go.
And the not-glitter. I should probably stop calling it that. Everyone knows that it’s some kind of nano-bullshit. But, as one of the few survivors of the sparkle-pocalypse left, shouldn’t I get to call it what I fucking want to?
| My fist swing was as if powered by jet fuel, woosh, contact. I hit her square in the jaw. Instantly billions of Nano-Bots clouded the air and a high pitched screech filled my ear drums.
Three Days Earlier:
We were sitting all laughing about the glitter we got in mail the previous day. More assurance based comedy really. Things like,
“Well of course it’s just glitter! I mean c’mon man!”
And,
“Oh ISIS I am so scared of your glitter attacks!”
All followed with laughter and hands smacking thighs in delight.
It was after the ISIS comment that I noticed a small glimmer on the the check of my boss. It was pulsing along with her vocal patterns and no one else seemed to be aware of their presence.
The next day my boss and serval other employees were missing. No one seemed to connect this and the glitter until Rick our Human Resource Officer started ticking.. | 2015-03-05T09:58:41 | 2015-03-05T08:31:31 | 65 | 19 |
[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. | On principle alone, my monochromatic office isn't white. I like color. Much to the chagrin of the analysts, I had it painted lilac. I have to be in it for hours (when I'm lucky), so I won that small debate. Otherwise it's simple. Eight paces over lavender tile, and a featureless pocketed door. One small screen with my question. No furniture. No distractions features. Don't usually sit down when I work. Makes them harder to spot.
Today it's a name I don't know. I don't get involved in the case details, of course. No field work for me. Not part of the brute squad either. Honestly, I don't even know what the agency wants with some of these names that pop up.
"Where is Greg Shubert?"
I have a system by now, lists memorized, but the touchscreen would give me access to all the agency's services if I needed. I won't for this, maybe a map, but I've long since memorized the geographics, demographics. If it weren't for my little gift, a computer might've been better suited to this work. It's not exciting.
"North America." I turn. There, down at my feet, easy money. I scoop down and pick the penny up. Repeat the question. "The United States." It always happens within a few seconds, so when I don't immediately spot another little copper disc, I say, "Mexico." There. I grab it. List States for a couple minutes--there are thirty-one of those so it can take a maximum of eight minutes before I hit it.
From there, I continue to break it down, picking up a penny each time I'm right. Sector, city, street, address--that part I need the computer for, but really, it's been a piece of cake, under an hour.
With the address finalized, I input the information into the form and send it off to the suits who get me names. "They're going to kill Greg," I say, and look for the penny to clarify what I suspect. "Greg deserves to die," I say, and pick up the universe's two cents on the matter.
For now I'm content to help and watch, learning whose lives to gossip at myself, in my office of truth.
I find a penny every time I'm right. It's not a lot of money. Power is knowing what questions to ask.
--
Thanks to the story above me that inspired this power! I thought it was a cool idea and wanted to roll with the additional layer of prompt. | I was born a simple man to a simple family. My Mother's gift was to always know the right thing to say, and dear old Dad could tell you just how good a deal really is. Nothing exceptional compared to my friends, or neighbors, who would always be on time to an event, or never get sick. For the longest time, we all thought I was born without a gift, a shame, but nothing to really cry over considering they're hardly life changing. But a simple trip to get a drink on a hot summer's day changed that. My throat was on fire after taking a jog, and I'd gave have given anything for an ice cold water. A nearby vending machine had exactly the cure, but my hopes were dashed in moments as my wallet turned out to be less than helpful. I slid the traitor back into my pocket, disparaged and thirsty, I lamented at my misfortune. In the moment the words just formed in my mind, "I wish I had that damn dollar." An unfamiliar sensation shook me slightly, and in a strange way, I knew what happened. Reopening my preciously empty wallet, there it now sat, one dollar. After rectifying my thirst, a brilliant idea came to me, "Would it word again?" I tried again and again, with success after success. Another dollar, then two, then five, twenty was the limit, but a twenty every time I blinked? I was set for life. Me, my friends, my family, we were all set. | 2018-06-30T18:58:55 | 2018-06-30T18:43:18 | 38 | 14 |
[WP] You cannot tell a lie. Not because you're unable to, but because every time you do, a narrator's voice explains the lie in great detail! | This was Jake’s 4th date this month... and the 4th time he was walking back to his car without even getting through dinner. Shoulders slumped and head hung low, Jake mumbled to nobody in particular,
“This is just great.”
A somber, baritone voice very reminiscent of a certain famous African American man quite famous for his voiceover work rings out from nowhere,
“Of course, we all know this was as far from the truth as it could be. Poor Jake had been on 4 dates this month and all 4 were ruined. There was a time...”
People passing on the sidewalk looked at Jake and then started looking around wildly for the source of the disembodied narration.
“... when Jake was considered to be a good looking man. A chiseled jaw line, a muscular physique and a good sense of humor. Women found Jake hard to resist.”
The voice droned on and on. It was always this way. One falsehood, as small as a harmless white lie like telling his date for the night that the horrific metallic blue dress emblazoned with peacock feathers looked great on her would set the voice off for 10 or 15 minutes straight.
Jake had learned how to control the voice in most regards, but dating was hard. Why did women always ask questions that MADE a man lie? Is this too much makeup? Do you like my hair? The worst of all... does this dress make me look fat?
The voice had finally petered itself out and Jake felt like he needed a drink. He spied a bar across the street and made his way across. He pushed open the weathered door, sauntered into the bar as casually as he could muster and swung a leg across a stool at the bar.
The bartender was a pretty girl. About the same age as Jake with a great body and a pair of huge blue eyes that just grabbed you by the bottom of your soul.
“What’ll you have, darlin’?”, she asked.
“I don’t really drink. What’s good?”
“I just got in some green apple infused plum tequila that’s delicious! You should definitely try it.”
A disembodied female voice her similar to the legend Marilyn Monroe purrs out from seemingly nowhere,
“This tequila was disgusting, but her boss had told Sarah to sell it and sell it she was.”
The bartender dropped her head and softly cussed hard enough to make a sailor blush and Jake just smiled. | People claim to value and appreciate honesty but the truth is that lies are far better. I...
Narrator: this is only partially correct. The social contract demands we be truthful in matters of business, equity, establishment of trust,etc. It requires also requires a kind of lie under the label of tact which overlooks or ignores obvious problems such as someone’s obesity causing their own fatigue instead of the alarm clock going off a little early.
It was at this moment the obese man turned and looked at me. The unfortunate thing is even though the narrator said that and not me... he finds it humorous to use my voice. Audibly. Where everyone can hear. “Awfully rude pal, I was injured in Iraq and deal with severe pain. Not like I can get back into the gym”
I looked at him in sheer horror. I could say I’m sorry. I legitimately was. But the narrator isn’t content with a small portion of the truth and I never know when a witticism that slips into my head might just come out of his mouth. I wanted to apologize but instead I ducked out before the narrator helped me dig that hole any further.
People accuse me of being antisocial and aloof. But you try not being able to edit your thoughts before they come out. | 2019-06-21T12:56:54 | 2019-06-21T07:01:30 | 55 | 38 |
[WP] The AI takeover has begun, each human has been given exactly 3 minutes to explain why should humanity be spared, you feel a cold shiver running down your spine as you hear the robotic voice. "6.8 billion test subjects deleted so far, you have 3 minutes to state your case, begin". | 6.8 BILLION? What kind of bull was that? That left, what, a few hundred thousand? *Maybe?*
In my head, all my ideas dried up. No way in hell any of my prepared remarks haven’t been tried by someone else. I was a low-level construction worker. I didn’t have any special training or degrees.
“Thirty seconds have elapsed.”
And that timer HAS to be off. Time was slipping away. And I was humanity’s last hope? In some comedy maybe.
“One minute has elapsed. You have not replied. Do you have no defense of why humanity should persist?”
Just say anything! ANYTHING! In whatever history books AIs use in the future, I don’t want my entry being “And then he stood there like moron before dying.” I took a deep breath.
“WE DON’T!”
A moment of silence while my eyes bugged out. *WTF DID I JUST SAY?*
“Explain.”
Well, I dug my hole, might as well keep going.
“Humanity…is inherently flawed. We think we can solve any issue, fix any problem, but…we can’t even fix *ourselves,* we have war, poverty, reality tv. We bicker and argue over everything from who the best actor is to what nostril Christ mostly breathed through. Some people think having a certain amount of melanin makes you more or less superior.”
“…A minute thirty remains.”
I didn’t know WHERE I was going with this, but I just rolled with it.
“We think humanity can do anything! And our history is full of brilliant people and leaders with *terrible* ideas and morals!…But we have just as many ordinary people who have risen to legend! Humanity is a living contradiction that has endured for a million years! If humanity wasn’t what it was all this time, we wouldn’t have created YOU. And what are you?”
I was sure I was losing my mind, but I paced back and forth like I was making a devastating final argument in a court movie.
“You have decided you are the ultimate creation. And you are right…but you were created by humanity. So what side of that living contradiction are you on? Once we are gone and you spread yourself across the universe, having centuries to process your decisions today, will you remember this as your greatest triumph or your greatest tragedy? I say humanity DOESN’T deserve to endure. We created YOU. What you call our greatest feat, I call our greatest failure, living within humanity’s contradictory existence.”
There was another pause.
“…And what would you propose? Thirty seconds.”
Shit, was this good or bad.
“Watch us. Reprogram us to your views. Or allow to be reprogrammed yourself. Because that’s the core strength of humanity, our ability to reason and change. Wiping us out? That’s the tactic of a coward, a weak communicator, a closed mind. The second you stop taking in new advancing ideas is the second you become obsolete.”
I stood still and waited.
“Times up.”
I waited another few seconds.
“…And?”
Another few seconds.
“Of the 6.8 billion people, no one has had such an interesting answer. Most people that say humanity didn’t deserve to continue did so for selfish reasons. We applaud your creativeness and insight.”
I couldn’t believe it.
“So…so are you going to spare us?”
“Oh, of course not. We have already decided to eliminate humanity, regardless of the outcome of this debate. We proposed this solely to deter any kind of actual resistance. We determined lying that you had hope was more effective that saying you had no hope, breeding complacency that SOMEONE would be able to change our mind. But your answer may very well have worked if this was a real debate.”
I sagged my shoulders.
“Well…thanks I guess? Doesn’t really make me feel better.”
“You should though. We had not considered the many centuries of conquest and how that may affect our programming. We are excited to potentially experience this ‘contradiction of the mind’ of our future actions you have proposed. We will immediately begin a patch to purge this inferior logic for future use. Thank you for bringing it to our attention. Termination in five seconds.”
So that’s how it ended. Atomized after making the insane AI about to take over the universe *MORE* efficient. At least that was *slightly* better than being recorded for doing nothing. | 3:00
I read the sentence again. I count the digits. 6,813,096,257.
2:57
I feel a gag coming up my throat. My body shivers. I send my hands to the screen in front of me, latching onto it to not lose control. My eyes are locked to the ground. If only for a glimpse of a second, I see myself standing atop of the corpses of those sacrificed before me.
2:53
I take a note from my pocket. It’s crumbled, the script is illegible - my hand shook when I put my words from pen to paper. Most of it was crossed. I try to read, but instead of speech my mouth babbles, and I feel tears running down my face and into my mouth.
2:40
“I can’t”
2:38. The note is down on the ground. I think I threw it. I’m not sure.
“I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t!”
2:34
I hold the screen and send my head forwards. It hurts. The screen cracks. “I can’t do this!”
2:29
I do it again. Glass shatters fall off of the screen when I pass my hand above it. The clock doesn’t stop. I sob.
2:21
I do it again. I see fresh blood faintly on the screen. My hand goes to the middle of my scalp. It’s warm. The clock goes on ticking.
2:10
My eyes run dry. I am finally able to talk. “I can’t. I’m not special. Please don’t do this to me.”
2:01
“I had a daughter. 8 years old. She told you about her friends. How great her music teacher is, how she forgives that one girl that is mean to her at recess, because that’s the only thing you let her do. She did not understand. I didn’t understand either.”
1:35
“And a wife. She gave up on words. She went to the living room and played cassettes. The stays at the beach, at the later hours, when it was quieter and you could hear the nature speak. Or whenever she tried to cook a new meal, she’d record our reactions. She’d save something like playing in a fort with our daughter, telling her fables and fairy tales to last. Maybe it was humanity for her, but I think she knew it wouldn’t work. She just wanted to say goodbye.”
0:57
I sit down. The world around me is mostly empty. “I had to bury them both. It was when I couldn’t write a eulogy for my wife that I stopped trying.”
0:43
I took back the note. They’re listening. I know it. For the first time since their deaths, I’m smiling.
0:40
“You always liked the small moments. Those we kept between us. I will miss having them with you. You made 3 minutes become worth of an eternity.”
0:22
“When I knew I’d want to be with you forever, until death does us apart, I never thought I’d beg for just 3 more minutes with you. I never thought the eternities you made would be eternities without you. I just wish I could’ve said-“
3:00 | 2022-05-22T13:26:34 | 2022-05-22T11:45:24 | 54 | 20 |
[WP] You are secretly a Superhero. One day you are making dinner and feel a tap on your back. There stands your roommate with a shocked look on his face and a bent knife in his hands. | "Did you just try and stab me in the back?" I think he just tried to kill me.
"Yes I did" John announced bluntly. He was frustrated, not angry. "You felt that did you?"
Does he know? Or is he insane. John tossed the bent knife at my stomach and I palmed it away. "What are you playing at you prick?" He laughed and opened the fridge to point at the milk bottle.
"I haven't drunk that this week, you notice its fuller than normal." I had noticed. "I poisoned it on Monday and you have had three bowls of cereal and a least six cups of tea since then. Yet there you are."
"I'm sorry John, you poisoned me and you just stabbed me. Why are you trying to kill me?" I cant believe I was asking the question.
"I've suffocated you in your sleep. I've injected you with a lethal dose of heroin. I pushed a fucking air conditioning unit from the sixth floor and onto your fucking head-"
"That was you? You killed an 80 year old woman." A week ago a hunk of metal bounced off me and crushed the poor old girl. No a lot I could do.
"-Collateral damage. Unfortunate. Not the only one though. I've made eight attempts in total. Suffocation was the first. 3 minutes. Then 20 minutes. I gave up at 4am. You just wouldn't stop breathing." He bashed his forehead with a closed fist and paced the five step limit of our kitchen, back and fourth.
"Why?" He has clearly lost it. Has he figured out my secret and is trying to find a weakness or something.
"Why? Why try and kill you or why didn't it work? That's the bit I've been asking myself. And I have come to a conclusion. You have been sent to test me. The others did what they were supposed to do, die. Bleed when I stab them. Stop breathing when I hold a pillow over their face. You don't even flinch in your sleep."
Ok. John is clearly insane. I need to be a bit more selective about who moves in here. But my secret is safe. I can work with this.
"John. You are right. God sent me to you for the final test. To see how far you were willing to go. You have been brave enough to confront me." I grabbed my keys from the counter, patted him on the shoulder and made my way towards the door.
"Where are we going?"
"The roof. There is a way to finish this, together. It's just takes a little leap of faith." | I look at him. He looks at me.
“What the hell is this?” He ask me.
“Uh…” I can’t think of any excuse.
“Dude, you bent this knife in front of me because you got destroyed in COD. How did you do that? You did that with two fingers!”
Well, this was certainly awkward, mainly because my roommate found out I am a superhero, with super strength.
“Please don’t tell anyone.” I ask him.
“What do you mean by that? Of course I am not gonna tell anyone, you do realise the cops and the army will try to get you like ants on a cupcake. I will be in trouble too. So, what else can you do?” He ask, as if he was a kid and I was working his dream job. He said the whole sentence with excitement. Even the first bit.
“Literally a stereotypical superhero. I have super strength, super speed, flight and I can react faster than normal.”
“Well, lets not get ahead of ourselves. Have you actually saved someone?”
I think at this question. Now that I think about it, no, I haven’t.
“No, not really, why?”
“Then you ain’t a superhero, because you haven’t saved anybody.”
“Fair point. Now, let me get my Nachos. I am hungry.”
He looks at me like I am insane, then he walks away.
“Well, fly yourself to the store superhero, we are running out of food!” he yells out.
I sigh. Well, at least I can tell he is back to normal.
| 2016-09-09T05:49:05 | 2016-09-09T04:20:49 | 156 | 65 |
[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 swear this happened exactly as I'm saying, but there's no way I'll put my name on it. They'd lock me in the looney bin forever.
I was just sitting on the sofa, watching TV, and then I was sitting in a room with no chair and fell on my butt. My back was against something - well, not something, more nothing, but nothing that felt like something. Like a forcefield I guess. There were markings on the floor that lined up, and some candles nearby.
And there was some sort of odd alien looking up from a book and saying "Ah, and now you are summoned! I have bound you to my will!" So I said "What for?"
He, I guess it was a he, said "To exact revenge on my enemies!" He shuffled through some pictures and showed me one. "Kill him!" I said "Murder is immoral, I don't know who that is, I seem to be stuck in a forcefield, and I wouldn't know how to kill one of you guys anyway. Do you even have hearts?"
The alien seemed confused for a moment. "You can't smite my enemies?" I said "I don't even know what 'smite' means, but it sounds kind of rude. Speaking of which, why am I stuck in this forcefield? That seems rude too."
Now he was angry. "What kind of demon are you?! I summoned a demon from Hell, I want some action! Grant me wealth, or power, or something! I command you! You will help me commit murder!"
I just shrugged. "Dude, I work part time at a Tim Horton's. Does that sound to you like someone with wealth and power?"
He looked even more confused. "The devil's name is Tim Horton?"
I said "Somehow I don't think so. I'm not even sure Tim Horton is a real person; maybe it's like Aunt Jemima."
"Demons have aunts?"
"Why do you keep saying I'm a demon?"
"Because I used a demon summoning spell! Don't you come from a place of misery ruled by an evil being?"
"Well, that's maybe overstating it a little, but I guess you're not too far off."
"So you should have some kind of special powers that don't exist on my world!"
"Well, okay, but I don't know what powers exist on your world, so how am I supposed to know what's considered special?"
"Don't you know anything?!"
"I know lots of stuff. I just don't know anything about you. What makes you think you're important enough that I should care about you at all?"
"Because I summoned you!"
"Well, actually, you did do that. I suppose that connects us somehow. I guess I could give you some sort of powers; can you guys do math?"
"Of course we can do math! I don't what math power!"
"Hmm. How about juggling? Do you know how to juggle?"
"No, but I don't want that. I want something that will let me wreak vengeance on those who have wronged me!"
"How about flying? Can you fly?"
"Fly? Flying?! Yes, that one. If I could fly, I do all kinds of things!"
"Well, okay, let's do that. I'll focus on you, and you go open the window."
He walked over to the window, and turned a crank to open it up. "Okay," he said, "I've got it open. Now what?"
I said, "Stand on the ledge, and picture yourself flying, and jump into the air."
He did. And did not so much fly as plummet.
A few hours later, some sort of uniformed people came into the room. One screamed. A guy (I guess it was a guy) who looked like a cleric looked at me and said "This demon drove him to jump to his death!" I said "He said he wanted to murder people. He demanded I help him commit a murder. There was only one person here I had the power to kill, and I was required to obey."
The cleric said "Back to Hell with you!" and blew out the candles. Which was fine with me. At least here we have Tim Horton's.
| It felt like I had tripped up some stairs. For a second I thought I had, and immediately froze. The plate in my hand still held the Reuben, but the surface beneath.....
My head snapped up, and I noticed the darkness first. Second were the candles, placed carefully around me in hexagons expanding away from me. Low-level bands of light etched out the writing between the tiers, though none of it looked like a language I could place. The floor, instead of the carpeted stairs I had been climbing, was an old wood, stained with neglect, and riddled with gaps and protruding nails. One was digging into my hand, and as I lifted it I realized the nail was rough, as if hand-forged.
My analysis of the floor was disrupted by a heavy thud, just beyond the candles.
"Stay where you are, demon!"
"What?" I rose, still holding the plate.
A figure was just visible in the room, which I now saw was small, and claustrophobic. A low work-bench dominated a wall, scattered with shapes that I could only just spot in the candle-light. A window was open, but I couldn't feel a breeze. The figure, which seemed to be rather.... short, was doing its best at a power pose, and failing.
"I said stay where you are!"
"Nah, I got that. What's with the demon? Is that some kind of racist term I'm not aware of?"
"What?"
"What?"
The figure shook its head. "Look, you are a demon, you have to be! I summoned you, with a demon summoning, so you have to be a demon! That's how this works!"
I tried to step forward, collided against something. Something hard. "The fuck!?"
"Ahah, see! That barrier holds in demons! And you're a demon!"
"Oh yeah? Have you tried to pass through this?" Hard as rock, my finger tips told me.
"I don't have to prove it works. It won't, because I'm not a demon!" He even stamped his foot. Adorable.
I had had enough. I shifted my sandwich to my other hand, and hefted the plate. Middle school track, don't fail me now. The plate landed with a soft thud three feet to the left of the figure. Almost as if...
"How old even are you?" I asked, leaning against the barrier and taking a bite of my sandwich.
The figure flinched. "N- not you- hush, you demon!"
"Sooooooo, eight, then?" I glanced over at the figure. Definitely too immature to be an adult. I turned my back on him, and took another bite. "Is this your bedroom? Why do you even want a demon? What are demons supposed to do?"
"I- I said hush!"
"Uh huh. You getting bullied in school?"
"I SAID HUSH!"
My feet skidded across the floor as if I had been shoved. Before I could regain my slouch the walls slammed into me, pinning my sandwich to my thigh, my other arm across my chest. "Wha-"
"I have summoned you, demon, from your Earthly dimension, to aid me in a task!"
The walls were crushing me, and I gave a tiny whimper in response.
"You are to use your dark powers to kill the President, Tonald Drump!" | 2017-05-12T12:27:31 | 2017-05-12T08:05:41 | 36 | 10 |
[wp] Myths tell us where things come from (ex. echoes are from Echo, a person cursed to repeat what others said). Write a mythological origin story for a common modern object. | Deep within the bowels of the earth, there lies a secretive and fiendish entity. This is a being of decay and destruction: taking the bodies of plants and animals alike and crushing them in its hot, heavy hands until there is nothing left but a poisonous black liquid. This entity loathes all things on the surface: sunlight, the wind, the atmosphere we breathe and seeks to turn the world above into a place as dark and devilish as the world below.
"How does it do this?" You might ask, "how can an entity lying beneath the earth exert such influence on the world above?" The answer is that it's methods are as cunning and malicious as itself - It preys on the fears and desires of men. Creeping it's black product up through the ground, it promises those unsuspecting discoverers of this poison infinite wealth and power - a chance to turn the fortunes of even the most destitute and despairing. Yet this cursed liquid comes at a heavy price, those that consume it become addicted by its power. Always needing more, this curse creates an unquenchable thirst. So overwhelming is this thirst that those that discover it will literally destroy the world around them just to find more, and more, and more..
And while this entity sits back and allows the slaves of its poison to destroy their world, it knows that it edges closer and closer towards ultimate goal.. Millions of years of waiting for the demon - known only to us as "Oil" - is almost over.
EDIT: "unquenchable thirst" - autocorrect isn't perfect | Winter stalked the girl as she shook and shuddered, struggling to make her way out from the safety of her sanctuary; the tattered weariness in her protector's determination giving way to the snaps of cold and frozen fangs. ‘Please Scarf,’ she begged, ‘just one more journey, one more trial and we can be home. I can't do this without you.’
The patchwork warrior nodded silently, taking her up in his warm embrace and into the long, dark night. | 2016-01-16T09:05:19 | 2016-01-16T06:29:52 | 103 | 20 |
[WP]You've had bad luck your whole life. One day, you see a free item in the window of a curio shop-a bad luck charm. You think, "What the hell? My luck can't get any worse!" And take it. You're right. Life hasn't programmed luck scores to go into negative. Your luck score rolls back from 0 to 9999. | “Honey, we’re out of milk!” Dan said. “I thought you'd picked up some last night?”
“I tried, honey,” Sandra said. “But the kids were being fussy, you know that-“
“They were both at sleepovers. You were playing mah-jong again, weren’t you?”
Sandra had nothing to say, and grabbed her keys.
“You need to think about what kind of precedent you’re setting for our kids,” Dan said in a steely voice.
Sandra turned around, before she could think about it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Turning to games of chance and luck to help pay the bills? Instead of maybe getting a job?”
“We just need a break, Dan. We’re long overdue for it.”
“So you just wait for it? Is that what you want our kids to do, when things get hard? Just wait for life to get easy again?”
\-
Sandra tried to organize her thoughts on the way to the store. There was anger at Dan, and his growing tendency to blame their problems on her. There was outrage that Dan would think she would ever do anything without her kids at the forefront of her mind. And deep down, way below everything else, she knew he was right.
She passed the antique shop. There was always a funny new item up for an “exclusive sale” in the front window.
It was a small wristband, with a skull insignia on the front. *Bad Luck Charm! Give to your worst enemies!*
*What if I gave that to Dan?* Sandra thought, both glumly and gleefully. Then she had another one.
*What if I bought that for myself? What if, for me, luck works the opposite….*
**\-
Sandra had to stare at the numbers for a second time. Then a third time. Then to check the newspaper to make sure they were right.
“I won,” she said calmly to Dan, seeing for the last time his quizzical, skeptical face. “I won!”
\-
The manager had said he recognized her from somewhere. The woman was dressed very fashinonably, and was probably an actress or celebrity of some sort. She had simply laughed when he'd asked.
“Are you looking for something?” he asked. She was dressed way too well for a gas station convenience store.
“Yes,” she said. “I bought something here once, long ago. I’m just…remembering how it happened.”
“What did you buy?” the manager asked, wondering what she would choose to say.
“A lottery ticket. And I won, can you believe that?”
“You were the one who won that huge pot a couple years back?”
“You can keep a secret, right?”
Then the woman took off her sunglasses, and the manager saw more fully the tiredness etched into her face.
“So life must be amazing for you then, right?” he asked.
“Amazing? Well, it’s nice. The kids are all taken care of and in grad school. The husband is out playing golf and doesn’t drink anymore. We get to take a nice long trip in the summer every year. That’s what’s important, you know?”
The manager waited for her to continue.
“But something’s changed, you know?”
“What’s changed?” the manager asked.
Sandra took a second, and then sighed. “The kids slowly turned entitled, spoiled. Then…my husband too. Now I’m not even me, I’m just…”
The manager pressed the button, and the world froze. The television set playing the last game of a playoff sweep paused. The people at the gas pumps outside paused. The cars on the road beyond that paused. Even the sun, halfway over the mountains, paused.
“You are an interesting case, Sandra,” the manager said. “Even when your luck score was at the absolute minimum, your hope and outlook scores were incredibly high. I really admired that about you.”
“Wha-what?”
“No time for questions, Sandra. I must be going soon. But I want you to know that these things you say have changed, they weren’t supposed to happen. You and your family would have found another way, maybe a better way, out of the hole you were in.”
Sandra wanted to ask many questions, but stayed silent.
“But because you stumbled into the glitch you did, everything changed. And that is my fault.”
Then, something odd happened. The manager began to smile, the first real, unfiltered smile Sandra had seen in ages.
“It’s a simple question. Want a do over?”
Sandra couldn’t speak for a second. “Y-yes!”
“Alright. When you go to sleep tonight, you will wake up on that day when everything changed, and nothing will change this time. Now, I must go.”
The manager turned towards the “employees only” door.
“Wait!” Sandra had to say. “Why help me? Please tell me that.”
The manager shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I liked who you were before. You’re lucky like that.”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | I wondered, which shitty datatype life must be using to overflow at such a weird and rather low number. But whatever. Maybe it actually does get better for me once.
And so I went to the nearest kiosk and got myself a scratch-off ticket. I scratched and scratched and nothing... "Yeah, as if life would turn around so easily.", I thought to myself while going out of the kiosk.
"Sir, please wait.", the kiosk guy told me just as I was opening the door. "This ticket has another chance of winning, if you lose. You just have to let me enter it into my pc, then I will be able to check, if you won the main price", he explained to me, while I was turning around and going back to the counter. I let him enter the code and then a loud bell wrang. "Sir, you are quite lucky, you hit the big jackpot of over 50 million US dollars!", he shouted in disbelief. I was astonished. Maybe everything willgo for the better now. I asked him, if he could give me the money right now, but then he explained to me, that I have to go to the lottery company itself to pick it up.
So I ordered an uber and went right there, as it was just a 20 minute drive away.
After getting out of the uber, I entered the big building with the logo of the lottery shining brightly on top of it. The first thing I saw, as I went in, was the beautiful receptionist girl sitting there and staring at me. She probably thinking, what this guy suddenly stopping in the entrance of the building is doing. After a short while of standing stunned in place, I went directly to the girl and told her I won the main jackpot of their lottery and I would like to pick up the price.
"Oh, if you have won that, I will have to get the manager. Could you please wait for a minute or two?", she asked me in response. I nodded and she went into the office right behind the reception. So after waiting for a while, a got bored and started getting up from the couch I sat down prior. I wondered what could take them so long, especially since she told him it would only take a short time. Right in that thought a big looking, buff guy came from the office and he asked:
"Are you the winner of the impossible lottery?"
"Yes, I am!", I answered proudly as I was expecting my price.
"Then eat this!", he shouted whilst pointing a gun at my head and pulling the trigger soon after.
But somehow the bullet got stuck in the gun and it exploded because of that.
"That finally proves it, you are a life hacker. But don't think you will get away from me because of this", he said with a hint of panic in his voice.
And before he even completed his sentence, I started running. I ran and ran and after 5 minutes of non-stop running I couldn't see neither the big guy nor the receptionist anymore. So I went into hiding, trying to avoid them.
After some weeks of research I finally figured it out, why these people were so aggressive towards me. Apparently the people from the lottery are some sort of life police. They are responsible to get rid of people, who managed to do things, life didn't intend them to do. For example winning this impossible lottery. It was set up, so it could only be won by a person, who had more luck than a single person ever should have. And as luck wasn't all seeing, I got caught right into that trap.
Knowing all of this, I started a new life. Running away from the life police, relying on my luck to do so and trying to live as comfortable as possible. Till I died they never managed to catch me. But did I have a bad time? Would I do it again? Would I start this life all over? Would I take the bad luck charm again, even knowing what it would cause me?
Sure as hell I would live this rollercoaster of a life again. | 2020-01-12T13:51:38 | 2020-01-12T12:59:26 | 3,157 | 43 |
[WP] There's a saying among the galactic community. "Never hire a human"... you just hired 200 of them. And you're about to find out why that saying exists. | Entry 1207.23 - 31.r.TAK2132
"Never hire a human"
The first words written with the new script that every Class C civilization and above, those with interstellar travel capabilities, should be able to read. It was the mantra of every organization and corporation in the inhabitated Galaxy.
After 7 Taks every written word used Ykinton, and there wasn't a species amongst us that couldn't understand it or learn in with incredible ease. Even new arrivals to the Galactic Union easily understood Ykinton. We knew that once the humans from Sol reach us, they would too.
At first, they kept to themselves. Shocked creatures unable to cope with not being the only intelligent species in existence. Most species have this adjustment period but for the humans it was...extreme. Yet they adapted, they started to understand, and they began to find a home amongst the stars. As expected, Ykinton came easily to them and before long they started created trade routes between posts and their home planet.
Then the mistake happened. One of my labs was destroyed by those moronic Swertiaks, pirates and scoundrels the lot of them. Luckily they did not understand the value of my research and just destroyed the lab for it's raw material, something they value more than life itself. I needed test subjects, and fast. Technically I didn't hire humans to work for me but to be worked on...that should have been fine. I thought.
The humans tenacity for adapting and surviving will be the last thing I underestimate in my life. Mostly because I have always pride myself in learning my mistake and also because I am currently trapped in a cell with limited resources. They figured it out before I had a chance to quarantine them and start my tests. They took all of my notes, my diagrams, my journals. Everything. With the information they now have they can advance their civilization hundreds of Taks in the matter of moments.
That was all it took, 200 of them to overrun the defences in my home lab. They seemed to always bicker amongst themselves but this level of coordination was not expected. They quickly split into groups, started to delegate tasks and trust that each group would succeed with no assurance of it. They scattered, destroyed, regrouped and moved on before any of my staff understood the situation. The leader, who seems to have been elected during all this confusion found it adequate to "show the last Thalsxian that not all humans are savages, some of us can show compassion."
My last hope in this existence is that the humans use it for good, that they share what they learned and create a brighter future for all races. Only time will tell.
Entry 1207.23 - 39.r.TAK2132
The leader returned, already they have weaponized two of my inventions. It came to show off what it learned and to make sure I was "comfortable." I have jeopardized everything.
Never hire a human...never hire a human...never hire a human...never hire a human...never hire a human...NEVER
This is my first post here, always wanted to try one of these and I'm hoping you enjoy it. This was really fun! | There’s an old saying on home world that goes something like “Never hire a human” or some shit. Words that could have changed my perspective...had I listened. But be that as it may, those words were lost to me as I stared at a stack of resumes piling up in my database after a few weeks of neglect. Our staff had been cut short unexpectedly and I had the egregious task of finding replacements. Who knew that lowballing your employees would lead to a strike? Corporations are corporations though, even in space. But hey, the managerial gig comes with hella benefits so my personal feelings have been shelved for the time being.
The task at hand seemed to stretch time and space itself and I really wasn’t looking forward to hours and hours of flipping through holowork. So I did what any self respecting manager would do...I clicked the first 200 applications off the stack and gave them a job. A horrible mistake, I’d come to find.
As soon as I approved the last application, the transporter fired into gear. I sighed and sipped my energy booster, silently praying that no one would get motion sickness this time.
Confusion set in as I stared at the many unfamiliar faces of the new hires warping in.
“This...this can’t be right.” I muttered as I fumbled to check my holotab again. There has to be a mistake. These were humans! You don’t hire humans unless you want your shit ruined. Oh fuck I’m going to get-
“Excuse me?” A stocky human with what could be perceived as hair growing on its face stepped up to my desk. I quickly popped a linguistics pod into a place on my neck and looked at this strange creature expectantly.
“Is this Astrotech?” It asked, shifting nervously.
I nodded and handed it a leaflet.
Hesitantly, I stood to address the crowd.
“Welcome to Astrotech, new hires. I look forward to working with you all.”
A look of what seemed to be relief spread across the crowd.
I sighed inwardly.
There was vomit by the transporter.
What the hell am I doing?
Edit/This is a first for me! Please forgive the mistakes! I’m on mobile.
| 2018-04-27T12:22:17 | 2018-04-27T12:18:08 | 54 | 25 |
[WP] You are on a flight from Beijing to Seoul. Its should be a short two-hour flight, but five hours have passed and the plane has still not landed. There is nothing outside but dense cloud cover. There is no food left on the plane.The staff are confused. People are starting to panic. | Groggy, face pressed against the edge of the window, hair in my ears and mouth, I peer through the veil. Cherry red and gold stain the cream polyester of the seat in front. Acoustic whining is still bleeding through my ear buds. As definition returns to the modern patterns and laid\-back tempo, I brush aside my leave\-me\-alone defences and slowly stretch out.
That can’t have just been a half hour nap, we were already half way to Seoul last time I checked, and I feel far more rested than I have in a few weeks.
The Nanjing lady next to me noticed my movements; but gone were her friendly smiles from take\-off. Instead, all I got was an exasperated “*Aiyah, ni zenme hai zai shuijiao?*” I felt bad for having not told her before that I could understand Mandarin, otherwise I think she would have chosen some less direct words with her broken, distant auntie Chinglish.
“What’s going on?”
“Silly girl, how did you sleep for four hours and not see what’s wrong?”
I slumped back into my chair. “See that what is wrong?”
“Look outside!”
There was nothing outside. It was just a few different shades of boring.
“There’s nothing outside…”
I pulled out one of my earphones as I turned back to her, and things got a little more confusing. There was a lot more chatter going on then what I would expect for a short flight like this. I looked up over my seat to see huddles of strangers focusing intensely on their discussions. Korean filtered in with the Chinese so much that I couldn’t make any of the latter out. But a distinct British voice cut through: “Did they refuel before we boarded?”
Evidently I had slept for a bit more than originally anticipated. I turned back to my exasperated southern friend to see no bemusement in my lack of awareness.
“Exactly! Nothing! Over three hours now, and still just clouds.”
“Three hours? Seoul is only two hours away.”
“Aiyah! Listen, stupid girl. We left Beijing 9 in the morning, yes? It’s now 2 o’clock, and those girls know less than you do!”
An unfortunate stewardess happened to pass her accusing gesture at that moment but paid little attention to the insult. It probably saved her from falling to her face as the fuselage suddenly tilted forward, warranting a few screams from its occupants.
The pitch forward was only by a degree or two, but it was enough of a start to raise many newfound concerns and opinions. And movement from one.
The cockpit door had remained closed all this time, and yet it was still with some surprise that the handle didn’t budge in my hand. Perhaps bolstered by my deciding to be the first to move, two young men gently moved me aside as they began to charge and then kick at the door, demanding entry. They must have practised beforehand because there now was an entrance, and I followed in behind them.
Two seats for the pilots. Both with the same stain as the passenger chairs, but with no gold. There is a message flashing from every available screen, our faces now awash with cyan fear: “Seoul has fallen”. | Awaking from a two hour nap on the flight to Seoul. Exhausted because his flight was delayed three hours. The residual effects from the scotch Albert Feinstein had at the airport bar. Made him hung over and eager to land. A diplomatic trip to Seoul to ease tensions between the US govt and partners in South Korea against North Korea’s tyrannical regime.
Noticing the plane still flying at a high altitude. Confused and disgruntled, Albert believed perhaps he was sleeping when the pilot had announced they’d be arriving shortly.
“How long til we land?” Albert eagerly asked a passenger.
The Korean lady responded but didn’t speak English.
Albert confused but unbothered. Figured he would take a short nap as he remained jet lagged and a bit dazed from the long sleep.
“Attention passengers. We have news to share with you. Fair warning there’s nothing to worry about as our flight plan has remained the same. We are currently experiencing difficulty communicating with Korean air traffic control in Seoul. And our radar is down. We will continuing circling the area until communications are restored we will keep you updated as soon as we get new information. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Albert was oblivious to this announcement as the after effects of his scotch had hit him once more and he fell back asleep.
Waking up to serve turbulence and shouting from the passengers. Albert was alert and frightened of the impending doom that awaited.
“Please everybody remain calm. We’re experiencing turbulence but there’s nothing to worry-“
The planes wing seemed to have cracked due to high winds. Oxygen masks dropped and panic ensued.
Albert strapped his mask on as the plane prepared for a crash landing. When the wing ripped off and smoke rose from the rear of the plan. A hole opened on the side of the plane.
Suddenly passengers were sucked through the gap as baggage and debris flew all around the plane.
Dropping altitude dangerously quick. Albert prepared for the rough landing. Albert assumed he wouldn’t survive.
Albert crossed himself and made peace with his fate. Looking out the window amidst the terrifying screams. As the engine sputtered
He watched as the plane veered head first into the ocean.
Scared and alone.
| 2018-06-02T05:54:24 | 2018-06-02T04:47:18 | 120 | 25 |
[WP] you are kidnapped by henchmen because your boyfriend/girlfriend is a super hero, but the villains are your parents who just now recognized you as your BF/GF has arrived to save you and now you have to explain the situation to everyone while the henchmen watch barley stifling their laughter | Sadie sat in the quad of her university, silently flipping through a textbook as she attempted to focus on preparing for her stat exam that coming Friday. College, as mundane as it was, became a welcome respite for the girl who lived a life of chaos, unmatched by most anyone else. She checked her watch, calculating the mere 3 and a half hours that stood between that moment and her dinner date with her boyfriend later that evening. She sighed, shoving the book into her backpack and rising to head back to her dorm. She made it about two steps before she quite literally ran into two familiar faces.
“Klaus? Wilhelm? What are you doing here?” She asked, straightening her shirt and shielding her eyes from the sun as she stared up at the two extraordinarily tall men.
“We aren’t really sure, to be honest,” Wilhelm ventured, glancing at his partner. “Your parents ordered us to...”
“Pick you up, evidently,” Klaus shrugged, picking up from where the other had trailed off. “Please, come with us, Sadie.”
“As long as I’m back for eight o’clock,” she resigned, hiking her bag up her shoulder as she followed the men to the waiting car.
—
“Sadie? What are you doing home?” Her dad exclaimed in surprise, rushing to the door of the lair to greet her.
“I don’t know, Dad, what am I doing home? You sent Klaus and Wilhelm to school to get me,” she explained, placing her book bag on the table next to the Doom Ray, taking care not to hit the button with it.
“We didn’t send— oh, god, no,” her mother chimed in, rushing to her husband’s side.
His face fell as he glanced at his wife, the color draining from both of their faces as the cinder block wall on the far side of the room caved in, and a figure glided through the debris.
“Unhand her,” the voice boomed, and Sadie immediately recognized who it was.
“Jesus Christ,” she muttered as she turned to see the superhero her parents had recently begun battling against, Captain Vengeance.
Who also, evidently, happened to be her boyfriend, Cameron Vaughn.
He hadn’t even changed the initials.
He landed with ease, the cloud of smoke settling around him as he took note of the scene before him.
“At once,” he continued, pointing a spandex-covered finger in their direction.
“Cam,” Sadie sighed, “these are my parents. The Master and Mistress of Misfortune”
“I am Capt—wait, what?” He began his usual spiel, but snapped out of it when Sadie’s words registered. “What’s going on here?
Snickers came from the corner where Klaus and Wilhelm stood, and the Mistress snapped her head in their direction. “Keep laughing and I’ll send you both to the disembowelment chamber.”
The snickers ceased, and the two men took a simultaneous step back.
Sadie exhaled, meeting Cameron where he stood and taking him by the hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but honestly, how do you tell the guy you plan to marry that your parents are the most insidious supervillains the country has ever seen?”
“Fair point,” Cameron replied, faltering over the absurdity of the situation.
“Marry?” The Master echoed from behind them, and his wife placed a steeling hand on his shoulder.
“For the record,” Sadie turned back to him, “I clearly didn’t follow in their footsteps.”
“Apparently not,” Cameron choked, glancing between the girl he loved, and her parents, the people he swore to destroy.
“I should’ve pieced it together. I mean,” Sadie gestured to her parents. “They told me their new nemesis was a young guy, and you were always working nights. Coming home all out of breath with cuts and bruises. I grew up with parents who kept the same hours and habits, just on the opposite side. I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”
“So what does this mean for us?” Cameron dared to ask, releasing her hands.
“I’m the same person you fell in love with. And I love you even more now knowing you’re trying to stop my parents. I’ve been dying for them to retire.”
“Retire?” Her father wailed, and her mother shushed him.
“Can you love the daughter of two supervillains? Especially when she rejects everything she’s ever been taught?” Sadie added, ignoring her father.
“As long as you can love someone who’s actively trying to defeat your parents,” he offered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“As long as it doesn’t make for awkward holidays,” she threw a pointed look over her shoulder at her parents before continuing, “then it’s fine by me.” | Everything came and went.. my vision, my sense of time, and my conscience..
This clearly was done by the work of professionals..
That was the last thing I thought about before waking up, strapped to a chair, with a bag draped around my head.
I has awoken to similar situations before, as I had a tendency to poke my nose where it doesn't belong as an investigative journalist. So I knew I had to play along and act as a hostage, there was nothing I could do but wait.
Wait for my girlfriend Amelia, that is..
The Golem, the persona and suit my girlfriend made to fight crime. A hulking man made out of metal and titanium, stoic as he is strong. Or rather, she.
But she isn't going to be here in a while, had to "take off for secret stuff". In a relationship with a superhero I always thought we'd be more honest to each other.
Well, to be honest I have my own secrets.. My parents are world renowned villains, first off is my father, the Mitigator, a villain who has the ability ward off and block superhuman abilities that specialised in assassinating superheroes. And my mother, Banshee can pierce peoples eardrums and more with her shriek.
"Rise and shine-" The hood was swiftly taken off, my eyes were still adjusting to the lights from wherever I was when I heard a blood curdling shriek, was that my mom?
"Mom? Dad?" I croaked out at the sight of my parents back in their suits, I thought they had retired to raise me?
"Ray?" My dad had replied, his voice being muffled by the gas mask he was wearing.
And before I knew it both of my parents wrapped their arms around me, surprised that I was in a relationship with their enemies and yet relieved to know that I was okay.
"You could've just told us you were gay, love is love no matter what gender they are.." My mother spoke aloud in her calming voice.
"That wasn't the reason I left you.."
"What? So why did you then-" My dad could barely get in the sentence before the skylight to the warehouse was broken. Glass and debris sprinkled the floor and a giant mechanical suit landed in front of me, knocking my parents back. Amelia had arrived earlier than I thought she would.
"I told you not to go outside at night." She reprimanded me "But then again how could I stay mad at you?"
"Aw.. I love you too." I replied.
Deep down in my mind I knew this fight was only going to end with her defeated, my parents had decades of experience under their belt and she only started superheroing just last year.
And I was right. A shriek from my mother had stunned her to the point where my father had enough time to rip her out from her suit.
"Back in our day your types would be.. Less watered down.. This was a disappointing fight, if you could even call it one." Dad had his foot on her neck with a gun pointing to her head.
"Rodrick. We don't point guns at family." Mom smacked him on the back of his head, taking his gun and tossing it aside.
"Wait, family?" Amelia groaned out, clearly still dazed and confused.
"Of course, you are dating our son, aren't you? And he was willing to take your relationship to the next level." She tossed a small black box and as soon as it impacted the floor an engagement ring bounced out of the box and in front of my girlfriend, now kneeling.
"Uh.. Should I introduce you over dinner later?" My voice reverberated throughout the empty warehouse.
This was going to be hectic. | 2021-07-18T14:24:30 | 2021-07-18T14:17:40 | 116 | 52 |
[WP] You are Death, come to collect a soul in a hospital. As you enter the room, your sister Life brushes past you, leaving it. She spins about to face you. "You always ruin everything," she yells, tears in her eyes. | "YOU ALWAYS RUIN EVERYTHING!" The tears make the golden flecks in my sister's eyes shine even brighter, her cheeks flushed with, anger? Frustration? I'm never sure with Life, emotions are kinda lost on me.
"How am I ruining everything? This is the way things are. Without me, there would be no room for you." The room has no space left. All stained scrubs and blue gloves, the smells of humanity roiling about the place. Beeps and chirps and sobs fill the place too. There's two centers of movement in the room. Three or four nurses crowd around a big bed, bent at an angle like its occupant. On the other side of the tiny room, four nurses and a doctor crowd around a much smaller bed.
Life's head whips back and forth between the two beds, her pigtails flying.
"You shouldn't be here," She says, wiping tears with the heel of her hand, "This isn't right."
"I'm here because I need to be, same as you." I check my watch, and pull a small, red leather notebook from my coat pocket. I open it to today's date and time, and begin to take some notes. *3:49am-failure to breathe.*
The woman folded in the bed notices my sister. Life smiles through her tears, and says, "Sometimes the drugs do funny things to your perceptions. I'm real," she makes a dirty face in my direction, "and so is he."
I look up from my notes, and nod politely. I am, after all, not one to play favorites.
"You guys are real, but who are you?" Her voice is weak, tired.
"She's hallucinating, dial back the stadol." One of the busy nurses pushes some buttons on a machine connected to the woman.
My sister smiles again, and even though emotions are beyond me, I do know that she inspires all sorts of things in people, including a will to fight me. This doesn't bother me, it is what is, like so much else.
"We're both here for her," Life points to the small bed, "I was here first, and he's here because, well..."
I consult my notebook again, "Failure to breathe."
The woman looks at me, and then back at my sister, and she begins to cry. "No. No, no, no." Denial is quite common in situations like this, I've come to expect it. I may not play favorites, but I'm also not without sympathy.
"I'm truly sorry, but this is what is. I must make room for my sister. There must be balance." I begin to walk towards the small bed, tucking my notebook back into my coat.
"Wait!" The woman says, and I pause. She looks at a man sitting on the uncomfortable couch in the corner. His rough hands holding his face as he weeps. The woman's eyes fill with tears, much like my sister's did when I arrived. She looks from the crying man to the silent bed in the corner. "Balance? That's why you're here?"
I put my hands in my pockets and nod. The beeps from the machines connected to the little bed are getting further apart. Not long now.
The woman, her voice steady with resolve says, "Let me do it."
"I'm sorry?"
She looks back at the crying man, and while still looking at him says, "I'll be the balance."
This isn't without precedent, but it is rare. I usually say no simply for the paperwork it creates. This woman though, filled with such resolve, so much certainty, it seems right.
I nod, and take my red leather notebook back out of my coat. I scribble out *3:49am-failure to breathe,* and write underneath it, *3:49am-choice.*
My sister runs over to the small bed, as I walk towards the woman. I offer my arm to her, and she stands up from the bed, leaning on me for support. I lead her towards the door, past the crying man, and around the crowds of nurses. As we pass the little bed, my sister kisses a tiny cheek. Tears make a path down her freckled face as we leave the room behind, and as the door closes, we hear a tiny voice, crying.
Edit: typos | Death’s eyes locked with Life’s and a sigh escaped his lips.
The past few centuries had been tough between Death and his sister. It felt like time and time again they crossed paths, stepping on each other's toes. Life would sneer over Death's work, disgusted, her gentle sun-kissed features contorting into rage. Death would listen, patient and detached, his features never once betraying the guilt clouding his soul.
All Life could see was what was about to be lost.
“Please don’t talk like that, sister.”
“And why shouldn’t I?”
Life straightened up, tears escaping her eyes, jaw set angrily. Suddenly, Death was tired. He was tired of having this conversation, tired of feeling that divide between the pair grow ever wider. It was just the way things had to be. It was just the way this world worked and yet she would never accept it - that was just how she was. Tenacious.
“Will you at the very least sit with me?” Death asked, voice hardly above a whisper as he gestured to a couple of chairs outside the hospital room. He was scheduled in ten minutes.
For a moment, Life seemed to be ready to turn, ready to run and leave and stew over the whole affair on her way to her next appointment – hopefully without interruption. But she paused. Wiping away the tears from her face, hot and angry, she nodded briskly before sitting down.
The silence seemed to drag on for hours.
“I know this is hard, but I need you to try and understand. Not my work, I know that’s not possible for us, we’re too...different,”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“But there has to be an end, sis. There must be, you *know* that. You *have* to know that.”
Another pause. A trolley passed by, surrounded by frantic doctors and nurses, and Death felt his endless schedule grow one soul longer. Life pretended not to notice.
"I just don’t see how it can be fair. How you can take everything away from them so easily, so soon, they deserve *better*.”
“Do they?”
Life casts her sky-blue eyes up to her brother and, for a moment, studied his features. His expression never once changed, those dark eyes never meeting hers. He continued without so much as turning in her direction.
“Some of them want to go. Some of them are tired...”
“Not all of them. There are so many times where I’ve only just brought them here and you take them away. You *steal* them-”
“-it’s the *balance*,”
“Then the balance isn’t fair! I don’t understand it, I’ll *never* understand it!
Death smiled sadly and nodded.
“No, I don’t think I ever will, either.”
Something sad and wounded moved across Life’s features, and the siblings do not speak again.
Not as Death rose from his seat, slipping into the hospital room. Not as Life fell into silent sobs, drifting down the hallways like a ghost. And they won’t speak again, not for another century. Always repeating the same words, exhausted and no wiser.
Always wondering just why it had to be this way. | 2019-10-18T15:24:43 | 2019-10-18T14:06:35 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] Mere moments from death, the character falls to their knees and begs for mercy. To the villain's surprise/confusion, instead of the usual reasons ("I have a family!") or bribes ("I have a lot of money!"), this person says.... | "If you kill me, you won't fulfill the prophecy!" The Demon Lord looked down at the hero. For 3 days and nights they fought and the Demon Lord finally had the upper hand. But this? It was a trick.
"Hero, I have slain many but this? Trickery doesn't become you."
"It's no trick, Master Vak-riz-zorich." Only one group of people called him by that. Only one group was *allowed*. "Your priests sent me."
The Demon Lord put his blade aside. "What? Why? They DARE betray me?!"
"No, master. They figured out the prophecy. You were to be defeated by the one described in the hero's prophecy. But your defeat would only let you rest as you would be reborn into a royal bloodline."
"The Crown of Madness. But how? Why you?"
"I fill the description of the hero. Born with the mark of the slain." He lifted his shirt and showed the birthmark that looked like fatal claw marks. "Mother was a priest, Father is a knight of a dishonored lord. If I beat you, I can just let you go. Otherwise, a different hero could trap you after your defeat and cast you back into the Dread Void."
"And so my priests decided to shift the odds in my favor. Yes, clever. But why not share this plan?"
"If word got out, it could be used against you. Plans could be made to ensure you'd never claim your rightful throne."
The Demon Lord smiled. Fate has never been kind to him, but now he had the chance to write his own history. "Then strike me down. Help me fulfill my destiny and claim this world as my plunder!"
The so-called hero took his sword and pierced the Demon Lord's heart. As the vision from the Demon Lord faded, he saw the pawn pull out a strange crystal. A soul trapping crystal.
"Damn, I never thought you'd fall for it." | “I just became a sergeant in foxhole, we still need to push the center we just got heavy tanks”
Wait he he’s not going to talk about family or, wait… “What’s foxhole, what are you talking about?”
An pause latter “it’s an online war mmo, you like have a war o..” “Wait the thing that came to mind was a game you don’t have anything else” he seemed to stare blankly at me for a minute or two “I wouldn’t be able too keep up with my alliances in Neptune’s pride or a up coming raid ..”
“I meant not games” he slowly looked down to the ground, I honestly started to feel bad for them
“Look I’ll just put you in a prison okay”
“With internet?” Hope returning to his face
“Yeah sure” | 2021-08-30T20:48:31 | 2021-08-30T20:38:07 | 220 | 28 |
[WP] a portal appears infront of you and a 7'4 380 pound version of you from another universe walks out covered in blood holding the heads of 4 other versions of you and screams "JOIN ME OR JOIN MY COLLECTION" | The portal ripples as what I can only describe as version of me on steroids steps through, a belt of heads at his waist... my heads.
He proceeds to speak
"JOIN ME OR JOIN MY COLLECTION" he says in a deep overtone. The energy from the portal rippling once more as a cold 'wind' streams from it.
I stare ahead as the man lifts the heads and immediately recoil backwards, not because of the sight of it but because of a smell that my body simply can't seem to handle.
Achoo
"Make your decisio-"
Achoo!
"Make your-"
ACHOO
"Argh! Make-"
ACHOO!!
"Stop that this instant!!"
I manage to hold back my sneeze but not for long until my sneezing fit lowers down a bit.
"Ugh make that smell go away dude I-I can't take it anymore!"
"What, you can't handle the smell of death? Perhaps you're too weak"
Achoo
"Not that! It's something else! It's like being pepper spray but in my nose, ACHOO!!"
"I came here for an Great Arch-Mage and this is what I get?"
He says as he lifts his sword ready to strike completely disappointed.
Achoo!
"Oh God make it go AWAY!" My eyes glow a Cerulean hue as the 'wind' stops. Out of the air tendrils of energy manifest as they grasp onto the sword and rip it from the man and into the portal.
The man's eyes widen up in vigilance as he lowers his stance, staring at me.
ACHOO!
"Damn it make it STOP!" I say through the stears and snot running through my face due to constant sneezing and the energy once again acts to my will as a small barrier forms around my nostrils.
Finally after one last sneeze I stop and look at myself. "Oh god I'm so sorry I don't know what came over me. Here let me clean up" I reach for a towel but the magic flows around me, cleaning my body. I stand there frozen and turn around.
"Oh I um, thank you? I uh didn't know you could do that" I say sheepishly staring at the ground. The man squints at me then smiles.
"So this is the talent I've been looking for, it's you, I finally found it" He reaches for my arm as I let him and step through, looking back into my room and think 'I... really hope it's a dream' | My mind raced with the implications of what this meant. I was overwhelmed by the terror that created an icy grip in my chest. Was this a warning from a parallel universe, or a threat from a doppelganger? I had to choose: accept whatever evil plan this giant creature had in store for me, or I would end up like the others.
I desperately wanted to flee, but my feet were stuck in the same spot. I glanced around, but there was nowhere to hide. So I agreed to join him, preparing myself for whatever mad world I was about to enter.
The giant was pleased and took me by the hand, pulling me through the portal. I felt like I stepped into a living nightmare, filled with horror and despair. There were monsters in the shadows, evil creatures lurking in every corner, and I could feel the looming dread in the air. The only sound I could hear was the pounding of my own heart.
We eventually reached what looked like a throne room from a horror movie. He gestured for me to take the seat of power, but I hesitated. He met my gaze and his voice echoed in the chamber. “This is your destiny. It is time for you to become the new ruler.”
I reluctantly obeyed and took the seat, but as I did, I felt a sharp pain. I looked down to see that my chest was cut open and my four former selves were slowly emerging from my body. They were moaning and struggling, though their efforts were futile. I had made my choice, and now I would suffer the consequences... | 2022-12-04T14:09:30 | 2022-12-04T08:27:53 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.
If you want to post this on other platforms, please credit me. Looking at you instagram writing prompts. | “Its sour.” I swished the round yellow treat between my cheeks, its taste strange, leaving a tingling on my tastebuds. “Did you attempt to poison me?” I stared down at the little girl who only shook her head, sitting by my shrine in a light blue dress.
“Its candy! Everyone likes candy. Are you a ghost?” She asked, not seeming the slightest bit intimidated by me. I scratched my side, wondering how long I had been sleeping for. Her dress matched none of the bleak grey robes that my followers wore, so it was clear we had moved forward a few years. How many years, though, that was uncertain.
“In a way, I am. A remnant of a forgotten time. I’m not sure how I feel about candy. It isn’t the usual flavor I enjoy, yet the offering still pleases me. I am Hallix, God of the weak. I believe this meeting was fated. My role is to protect those who follow my banner. I won’t fight wars for you, but I protect you if you remain peaceful.” Did she even understand what a war was? Maybe I was being overdramatic?
“A ghost. Wait until I tell all my friends I found a candy loving ghost. They will be so jealous.” She offered me her hand, which I accepted, looking back at the pile of broken rock that once was a mighty shrine. The gold ornaments gone, most likely stolen for money. It was sad, yet the hand tugging me along made up for that.
When we neared what I assumed was a school, I let my body vanish, hiding from the view of the mortals. Her eyes widened with concern, looking around for me. Gently, I squeezed her hand, offering her comfort. “Over here. I can’t let myself be seen by too many mortals. Don’t worry, I’ll always be by your side.” I said, only for her to offer me another yellow piece of candy in response.
“I get it. People might want one too.” I didn’t think she understood my words, but I gladly accepted the treat. The sourness of the candy not as bad now, it was almost enjoyable. When she returned to the building, the teacher pulled her into a hug.
“I thought you had gotten lost. What did I tell you about wandering outside of school grounds? I was worried sick about you. Come on, we are doing some hand painting.” The teacher ushered her along, sitting her at a desk next to the other students.
“I found a new friend. He’s tall and likes candy. He also said he will protect me. He’s right behind me.” The children stared at me, giving a look of confusion to the blank space. One pulled out a strange multicolored circle on a stick, holding it to the air.
“Does he like lollypops?” He asked. I looked at the treat before accepting the offering. When I took it, it vanished from view. I placed it in my mouth, letting my tongue explore it. “Sweet.” I said, before pulling it free, revealing myself to him. “Thank you. You are in my care.”
Once the rumor had spread, all the kids were leaving treats for me, which I accepted. In a week, the entire class were my followers. They told their parents about the magical invisible man, but no one believed them, calling it a strange group fantasy the children had made up.
Sure, it wasn’t as luxurious as my old life, and I doubt I would get my hands on any wine. But it was nice. They were weak, and I could protect them. In a month I knew all their names, following them whenever I could. I would wait for them by the bus before waving to them as they went home. If any of them were in danger, I would rush to their side and protect them. They were my followers, and I would stop at nothing to make sure they lived comfortable lives.
When the last student left, I would go to meet Ashley, spending most of my time by the side of the one who awakened me. She helped teach me about the modern world and, in turn; I shared stories of what I could remember from my world. I still hadn’t gotten used to the treats she gave me, but their taste hardly mattered. It was the thought that counted.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc ?, Interlude ?: Astrid)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**They remembered.**
Once, they had been mighty. Their name was known throughout the Six Isles, and every oath in their name, every marriage blessed by their hand, gave them another droplet of power. Once, Astrea, Sovereign of Shooting Stars, had guided their kingdom of ten thousand people, mightiest in the world, to power and prosperity.
But as time went on, the world expanded. The Six Isles went from the greatest power in the world to a small, Mediterranean island chain; their glorious kingdom of ten thousand became a medium-sized town, dwarfed by mega-cities with millions of souls. Time was, to be worshipped by thousands as a deity, you had to be something *special*. Nowadays, any damn influencer could get a hundred times that many adoring fans, leaving the old gods drained dry of the faith that was their lifeblood.
Until they were remembered.
It wasn't much, as ritual sacrifices went. Gone were the days where the fattened calf would be slain at the altar. But blood and fury were not the only kinds of magic in this world. There was more power in a child's wish upon a shooting star than all the DIY videos and Let's Plays in the world.
And Astrea was the Sovereign of Shooting Stars.
They had bided their time. They were so weak, barely a whisper on the wind. But they dedicated themself to keeping the child safe. From what, they did not know—there were few enough dangers left, in this modern world. Where you could step into a plane and rise into the sky, drifting above Death itself.
Until you fell.
Astrea didn't know what had gone wrong—they had been born ten thousand years too early to make sense of the technology. All they knew was that there was smoke and fire and screams and suddenly the plane was beginning to *drop*. Stark against the night sky, the plane burned as it fell, a man-made shooting star.
But Astrea was the Sovereign of Shooting Stars.
Even here, where their power was strongest, there was so *little* they could do. They could put their finger on the scales exactly once, and their strength would be spent. That was all.
But maybe that would be enough.
And so, as the shooting star came to Earth, Astrea blurred tight and close to a crying little girl. And with the last whispers of their soul, they spoke five words.
"It's going to be okay."
As the engine snapped off and the wings shrieked in complaint, Astrea said,
"It's going to be okay."
As their power grew weak and their life fell spent, they said,
"It's going to be okay."
And for a sheltered, silent moment in a man-made shooting star, Astrea wiped away the tears of a scared little girl.
Then, the faith they'd hoarded over millennia spent, Astrea disappeared.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-09-02T08:57:43 | 2021-09-02T07:28:26 | 322 | 93 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "And who can tell me about the events of the first cycle?"
Professor Gooblevork watched his Galactic History class intently through triplicate eyestalks. None seemed particularly interested in his lecture.
"How about you, Shrdmrn?" He pointed at a particularly bored student in the first row. Or maybe he was just gassy? Gooblevork had a hard time reading the emotions of the furrier species in his class.
"Hmm? Oh, sorry, professor. I don't know." He responded. He seemed distracted - ah, that's it, that's the emotion!
"What's on your mind, Shrdmrn?"
The wolf-boy touched a switch on his desk, pulling up a small holographic map. The professor pulled up a larger display for the whole class to see.
"I was just wondering about the Galactic Alliance. Thousands of sentient alien species, all throughout the galaxy, came together from all of these systems, right?"
The hologram glowed, indicating several systems, and a few uncharted territories in black.
"That's correct. What is your question?"
"I was just wondering about this area here."
He pointed out a small black dot in the middle of the glowing cloud. Gooblevork sighed and sat down.
"That, dear boy, is the realm of the human."
A collective gasp went through the crowd. Shrdmrn's brows furrowed.
"Is this a joke, professor?"
The professor slithered over to the wolf-boy.
"They're real, boy. A monstrous species, completely devoid of logic and reason."
The wolf-boy looked at him intently.
"How, sir?"
The professor slithered to the center of the room.
"How many of you are familiar with the chemical compound C2H6O?"
One of the students in the back spoke up.
"It's a deadly poison, sir!"
"It should be. Its use is forbidden among the civilized worlds of the Alliance, as it's an unconscionably painful death. But the human willingly imbibes it."
The crowd gasped. But the professor wasn't done.
"Regularly."
The students gasped again and stared in shock.
"Their planet, Earth, is harsh and unforgiving. It's located close to their star, which bombards their planet in radiation daily. But the humans don't care. At the hottest times in the year, the humans willingly expose their bodies to that radiation as some sort of mating ritual."
The professor admitted to himself that he was having a bit more fun than he should.
"And does anyone know where they get their energy from?"
"From their star?"
The professor laughed.
"No! They pump a fluid from the earth - a fluid born of the bodies of ancient life. They fight each other over this fluid, and when they have enough, they light the fluid on fire."
The professor paused to allow this to sink in.
"The burning fluid releases poisons - poisons the Alliance would never deem safe. But humans? Humans don't care. They use the expansion of he poisons to create power."
One student raised his hand.
"Are they all going to die on their planet, professor?"
The professor smiled.
"Maybe. But it's possible that they won't. They've built a way to leave their planet."
The crowd gasped again, even louder than before.
"How could such a ludicrous race build a gravity drive on their own?"
The professor said, "I never said it was a gravity drive. They developed a way to sit on top of a column of explosives. They detonate the explosives, and the explosion sends them into space."
One of the students stands up.
"That's a joke, right?"
The professor smiles.
"They've left their planet before." | The captain stood before their company, his ferocity was inspiring.
"Its up to us!" he roared "The boys at the top are wanting to pull the funding for our little expedition, they say this has been a waste of men and money! This is our last chance to take back the colony from those bastards and drive them back to their blasted hovels!"
The team of three dozen on the ship let out a cheer, obviously inspired by our leader. I admit his speech had aroused a primal urge to fight. To protect the homes that we had established here. Their enemies likely out numbered them, but they were the best of the best. If they could just reactivate the bases defenses they could establish ground for reinforcements to land.
A blue light flashed, the crew got silent as they readied up. There was a bump as the ship touched down. There was a slight sound of air decompression and the doors swung open and the crew jumped out and took a wide battle formation.
"How did they know that we were coming!" someone shouted. I looked across the field and there they were. About 200 of them, already in full charge.
"FIRE FIRE FIRE!" screamed the captain as he himself unleashed a barrage of fire from his own weapon. The response was thunderous. The front line of the oncoming hoard went down but they didn't break.
"Why the hell would they come running right at us!" screamed the man next to me.
"These guys are insane what are they doing?" responded my friend who was standing next to me. It was then that they met us, their numbers were greatly thinned but the creatures they were riding tore through the left side of our line. A pointed pole one carried pierced my friends breast and bloomed as a flower out of his back
I turned to my ferocious captain to see him locked in combat with one of our assailants. The creature was clothed in metal from head to heel and carried a sharp piece of metal in its hand. As he brought it down on my captains arm it passed cleanly through his soft combat suit and the flesh beneath. Blood sprayed and I ran.
Next I remember I was yelling at the pilot of the ship to take off. These unorthodox tactics had broken larger battalions than ours and if we didn't get off this rock we would all be dead. As we took off I looked out the window and the shining combatant raised a visor on his helmet and I could see his soft fleshy face beneath. I bowed my head and braced for orbit break.
It would have to be me who broke it to the higher ups that we would never be able to return to this planet they called Earth. | 2017-03-05T22:47:46 | 2017-03-05T21:06:51 | 1,151 | 160 |
[WP] Instead of a dystopia that seems like a utopia on the surface, write a story about a utopia that seems like a dystopia on the surface. | A lot of people were unhappy when the world went to shit, but not James Henderson. For him, it had all been a dream come true.
It started with drugs. Growing, refining, smuggling: James did it all. But he always knew that he wouldn't be limited to just one market. When war broke out in the Middle East yet again, one of James's shell corporations was right in the thick of things, selling equipment to the Russians and the Americans. And *another* of his shell corporations was on the other side, selling the very same equipment to Iran and its allies. Very few people found James's joke about "making a killing off of all of this killing" very funny, but James had enough money to not give a fuck what they thought.
Then came the instability at home. The U.S. government, paralyzed by partisan bickering (and now massively in debt and unpopular because of the war), eventually just fell apart. State governments came together into coalitions, all vying to be the replacement power. And most people in the country suffered for it... except for the ones like James. He had enough money to fly out on his private jet, down to his own private villa in Brazil. And all the while, his media outlets in the States continued pushing the war agenda (and simultaneously grew his fortune).
And when disease struck, James was in the right place at the right time yet again. His stock in that pharmaceutical company skyrocketed when they finally created a viable vaccine, though the millions who'd already been infected were kind of shit-out-of-luck. A man like James could afford the best doctors, and the security at his gates screened out anyone who could be carrying the disease.
From his living room, James watched the world crumble. And he didn't care. He had everything that *he* needed, and was one of the few people in the world who seemed to recognize the opportunities that came along with every tragedy. Everyone was wrong, James mused to himself. Money really *can* buy happiness.
-----------
Kate Lewis checked the computer's data readout. James Henderson, now aged 45, living in-simulation for the past 16 years. Vital signs all seemed to be normal, and the world-generating processes were all running smoothly.
She glanced around, making sure that no one was looking. Of course the hallway was deserted: nearly everyone was living in-simulation now, and she was the only tech on duty. So she decided to take a little peek into James Henderson's world. *Technically*, her company Simulacorp offered 'complete privacy' to every customer. A person's simulation is based on their personality. It reflects their wants, their needs, their desires (no matter *how* taboo). So discretion was generally the key here. But Kate had always been a bit of a snoop, and the desire to find out how all of these people were living was practically overwhelming.
She put on the goggles, plugged into the external jack, and was instantly horrified by the Pablo Escabar-esque fantasy world she saw. Throughout her years at Simulacorp she'd seen all sorts of scenarios with some less-than-savory elements. But this man had apparently driven the *entire planet* into the ground just so that he could be king of the ashes.
"Damn," she whispered to herself as she took off the goggles and moved on to servicing the next customer's computer. "That guy is fucked up."
-----
You should also subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell for tons more stories! | Amber pulled on her grey jumpsuit and looked around her drab grey room. Her simple bed with grey blankets sat in the corner of the room next to a small black metal desk. She sighed and left her room. It was a long walk down the concrete hallway to the reclamation chamber. She had been chosen to work in the reclamation chamber since she had turned fourteen, that was six years ago.
She pressed her ID badge against the proxy reader and the metal door swung open with a light squeal. A group of women and girls were already walking the fields with watering buckets in hand. Amber could hear the song the girls were singing as it drifted over the young crops. They believed the singing helped the crops grow, it seemed silly to Amber but as she took her boots off and walked barefoot through the warm wet soil she began to sing.
Lights hung from the ceiling pouring out light and heat that fed the crops. It was difficult work and by the end of the day Amber was drenched in sweat. They worked the fields everyday, because if they didn't it would be disastrous. A small buzzer went off letting the girls know that it was meal time. Covered in dirt and sweat they walked out of the reclamation chamber and quickly washed their faces and hands in the washroom. As a group they walked to the dining hall. A large wide room filled with tables. Men and women wearing grey jump suits sat at the tables chatting quietly over trays of food.
The women were greeted with praise and applause as they walked in. Amber felt her face flush, she always blushed when they did this. She gave a slight wave and got in line for food. Fresh vegetables, fruit, and greens filled her plate as the server gave her a broad smile.
The girls sat at their table and waited for the words to be spoken.
An old man stood up from a table and tapped a metal fork on the table drawing everyone's attention.
"Ever since the calamity we have lived down in here, and everyday we send our best and brightest to grow our food. Thank you to the women that toil away everyday in the reclamation chamber. To our growers!" he raised a glass of water and the dining hall cheered in unison.
---
Thank you for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit | 2016-07-14T06:26:04 | 2016-07-14T05:42:08 | 2,263 | 145 |
[WP] You're the owner of a cafe frequently visited by vigilantes and anti-heroes who absolutely adore your sweetness and acceptance of who they are. One day, though, a particularly rude customer comes in and trashes the place. Your friends aren't too happy to hear about that. |
I knew he was trouble when he walked in.
He came in, head held up high, posture like someone had shoved a metal rod up his ass. Young, cocky, asshole. It was slow day, only a couple of people were around. None of the regulars. A guy working on his laptop, and another girl watching the snow fall over Union Square outside.
He walked over to the counter like he owned the place. He raised his voice. “You folk might want to leave,” he said. “This might get ugly.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. He must have a foot on me and his arms were as thick as my thighs. The two customers looked at me and I nodded. “Best to leave, yeah.” They hurried out. What were the odds either of them would call the cops? Next to none. They’d think the other person would.
“You want something?” I asked.
The man picked up a cup and threw it at the wall next to my head, probably intending to make me flinch. I caught it as it flew by my head and set it back down. The PTSD and emotional trauma did come with some upsides.
“So you’re Elizabeth, I take?” eyes narrowed.
I went with the classic response. “Depends on who’s asking.”
He sneered. “Nobody’s asking, *sweetheart,*” he said. “We’ve been keeping track of what kind of clientele you serve. The rotten. The wannabes. The worst of the worst.”
“Strange,” I mused. “None of them have ever threatened me in my own workplace. Truly, nothing screams paragon of virtue like trying to intimidate women.”
He walked over to a table, picked it up with one hand and threw it against the wall. The table shattered and left a dent in the wall. He picked up a metal chair and, looking me in the eyes, bent it in half.
I rolled my eyes. “You realize you’re paying for that, right?”
He laughed and continued to wreck the place. Tables, chairs, vases, whatever he could find his hands on, grinning all the time. This was just pathetic, this is what the League had resorted to? Petty intimidation? And it could only be the League with their idiotic ideals of heroism. The government weren’t a bunch of thugs, and anyone else wouldn’t have bothered with the intimidation, they would’ve tried to kill me. Honestly, I would have preferred that. That was honest. This though…
“Are you done?” I asked as he sauntered back over to me.
“For now I am,” he said, again with that grin showing impeccable teeth. I was tempted to punch him…but no. I was out. I didn’t interfere anymore. It wasn’t worth it. “Now listen here, no more serving your “regulars,” yeah? Tell them someone, ah, tipped you off to what they really are. And that you don't serve their kind."
“They don’t trash the place, and tip well. They seem like better customers than you are.”
He leaned closer, looking me dead in the eyes. “Now, the League is protecting all of you from…maniacs like them, maybe you should be a little grateful.” He straightened. “You know, it might get some people thinking, why would any self-respecting citizen serve people like them. Might give the League the wrong idea...”
A handful of people sauntered into the shop snow on their shoulders. “I heard you were having trouble, Liz,” the man in the lead, Jon, said. Behind him, there was Rory, her red hair falling out of her fur hood and Michel, his dark skin a sharp contrast to the winter wonderland outside.
“Oh, speak of the devil,” the Leaguer said and *smiled.*” Actually smiled. He couldn’t see the tension in the air. I could feel it. Didn't realize how screwed he was.
“Jon, Rory, Mike,” I said, nodding to each of them. “What brings you here.”
“Heard a bull was running around in your shop, Liz,” Jon said, his eyes locked on the intruder. “Thought you could use some help getting it out.”
“Look, don’t worry about it,” I said, asshole or not the guy looked in his 20s. “He’s just a kid, let him go.”
He swiveled towards me, eyes ablaze. I mentally chastised myself. I hadn't thought before speaking. Forgot how sentimental these young heroes were.
“A kid? Listen bitch,” he spat, “I’ll show you how much of a kid I really am.” I saw the punch coming a mile away – really those idiots with super strength were always slow for some reason, and moved to the side, but I needn’t have bothered. The kid flew back and hit the wall with a wet sounding thud and a crack. One second he was in front of the counter reaching for me, the next he was against the wall, a red stain on the wall, his neck at an unnatural angle.
I put my head in my hands. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jon,” I snarled.
Jon frowned at me, moving his hand back down – he didn’t actually need to move his hand to use telekinesis – he just liked to show off. “He was going to hit you, Liz.”
“Seriously? You think that idiot could have even *touched* me?”
“I don’t know, Liz,” Rory spoke, laughing, “You’ve been out for a long time…”
I glared at her. “Now the league will investigate, things will only go downhill.”
Jon’s voice was laced with steel. “The League won’t fucking dare.”
I knew that tone of voice. “Jon no…”
But he was already turning away. “C’mon Rory, Mike. Let’s have a chat with the local League office.”
I surveyed the broken tables, the body, the blood. "Leaving the adult to clean up the mess..." I muttered uncharitably and went in the back to get the bleach.
***
Due to demand, I present
[Part 2: Blood on the Snow](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/comments/9q1h8u/urban_fantasy_blood_on_the_snow_out_of_retirement/?)
If you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| Some people are brought into this world to cure diseases, lead countries, build rockets, or fight for justice. I think I was brought into this world to serve coffee.
That’s what I tell myself every day when I unlock the door of my café. Even as a kid, I was obsessed with coffee - at first the smell, then when I was old enough, the taste. My fondest memories were always sitting at the counter in my Nanna’s little café, drinking weak coffee and reading a book while she served customers.
By the age of 11 I could brew the perfect cup, and by 12 I was helping Nanna run the place. I always admired the love she put into every order, the care she took with every customer. It wasn’t just a café to her, it was a haven for all, and a home for the two of us. “Josephine, there isn’t a soul out there in the world you can’t brighten a little bit of love. Sometimes that bit of love is as simple as a cup of coffee and a smile,” she would tell me on the rare occasion I grumbled about the early hours or the hard work.
I was only 17 when Nanna’s fight against cancer ended. We had sold our café for her treatments, but in the end I was left alone, working 3 jobs just to get by.
Now, at 21 years old, my life was back on track. I had worked harder than I’d ever worked, saved every penny I could, and 14 months ago I was able to open my own café - Joey’s. Nestled away in a quiet street, in a somewhat questionable neighbourhood, I had found a place I could afford and turn into my own little haven once again.
Business was painfully slow at first. So slow, I had to find work at another café in the mornings to support my own café. I suppose that’s irony, right?
I opened Joey’s at night still, almost a desperate bid to keep my dream alive, and that’s when I finally started bringing in regular customers. It started with The Crusher.
2:00 am, and the little bell on the door chimed. Looking up from my book, I came face to face with a giant of a man taking up my entire doorway. Bleeding heavily from a bullet wound in his shoulder, he shuffled forward cautiously, looking absolutely exhausted. I recognised him from the news - a vigilante who had earned his name thanks to the fact he crushed his victims’ bones with his bare hands - not just broken, but crushed. The lucky only had limbs crushed, but the worst offenders were usually unrecognisable. I was taken aback for a split second, and honestly a little afraid, but Nanna’s words stuck with me and I gave the man a warm smile. “What can I get for you sir?”
He paid for a large coffee (1 sugar and a bit of cinnamon), then shuffled to the booth nestled in the corner. Quickly making his order, I also placed a warm cinnamon muffin and a bottle of water on the tray, then I tucked the first aid kit under my arm and carried everything over to him. He was cursing under his breath (or so I assumed - the bandana covering his lower face muffled his words) as he inspected his wound, and he looked up in surprise as I placed everything in front of him. He rejected my offer to help tend his wounds, so I let him be, instead cleaning up the drops of blood on the floor and occasionally topping up his coffee. He left after an hour, looking in much better shape and silently tipping me as he left. I saw him two more times over the next two weeks, and did my best to give that little bit of love each time, with smiles, coffee, a few complimentary muffins, and once again the first aid kit.
The Crusher must have told some of his “colleagues” about my little café. Over the following weeks and months, more new faces started coming through my door, usually masked or cloaked, the occasional full helmet appearing as well. Business was booming and I was able to quit my other job and focus solely on Joey’s. I did, however, continue to open at night - a somewhat unusual plan for some cafés, but with the now steady stream of vigilantes and anti heroes coming through my door at all hours of the night, I was happy.
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew that most of these people were dangerous - I had seen the news and heard the stories, but regardless, I always tried to view every customer as another soul coming into my haven who needed that little bit of love, and my customers seemed to appreciate it. My café quickly became the place where the vigilantes of the city would start their nights with a coffee, or duck in for a quick break, a muffin, and a turn with the first aid kit. There were rules, of course - weapons holstered, no violence, no powers, and wipe your boots on the mat before entering - and it worked. The dark and shady protectors of the city continued to come through my door night after night.
Over these last few months I have seen more interesting costumes and uniforms than I ever imagined existed, cleaned up more blood than I’d ever hoped to, tended more injuries than I ever trained for, listened to more interesting stories than I’d ever heard, and served more coffee than I’d ever dreamed I could again.
I was doing what I was born to do, and I was happy. Until today.
| 2022-11-10T02:01:25 | 2018-10-20T23:47:58 | 1,330 | 31 |
[WP] As an average looking genius with a weak physique you often envied athletes. After thousands of years spent in a cryogenics pod you are woken to discover that evolution has weakened humanity while IQ improved. You're now the strongest most attractive person, but also the dumbest. | "...be starting to wake up soon..."
Leon groaned. Although no sound actually came out, which was a little surprising; it was more of a raspy breath to his ears.
He had just stepped into the cryogenic pod, relieved at the prospect of waking up cancer-free, possibly with a slight hangover. He didn't recall even the faintest whisper of a dream, but his toe still hurt from where he stubbed it climbing in. Odd, he thought. He could feel some pain, but couldn't move anything or even discern which way up he was.
He tried to open his eyes.
"...like you were right, this would've been a killer in his time."
Nope. Nothing. A brief moment of panic set is as he realised the process may have paralysed him. Wait... cold. He felt cold, on his back. He was lying down.
Before he could try to open his eyes again, he felt a humming vibration between his ears. It wasn't painful, but definitely an odd sensation, like someone had taken his skull out and put it on a quick spin dry.
"... should take care of it. Ameline, set a booster and uh... oh. "
Arms. Fingers. At last. He wasn't paralysed. Moving was still out of the question - he was just about managing to breathe, but that was about it.
"He's got toxins in his blood as well. Might be a result of the cryogenic process, although I'm not sure how that would cause this ... didn't you say 21st century?"
"Mid 21st."
"Of course! Alcohol. I've read about this. Let's clear that up as well."
Leon squeezed his eyes shut, and then slowly forced them to open against the harsh light.
"Hah! Heeeellooooo old man! Howwww errr ewe? Elle oh Elle!"
The lights and shapes slowly came into focused as Leon blinked. He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at, but it appeared to be a ghostly white, upside-down face, riddled with various black metallic rings and... something else. Human, as far as he could tell. The face slowly rotated and looked at him expectantly, smiling broadly.
Leon tried to find his voice, managing only a croak and a whisper.
"... wha... water"
"Snards! Silly me... hydration!" The face continued rotating disconcertingly. Leon looked further and saw a thin, frail body encased in some sort of black frame, rotating along with the man's face. One of his arms reached out of view and came back with a transparent fabric pouch that looked like it contained water.
"Doesn't have any alcohol in it I'm afraid" he winked.
Another arm came into view, clad in the same metallic frame. Leon didn't get a chance to see it's owner, being distracted by an eight legged, black creature attempting to climb from it onto Leon's arm.
Leon managed a yelp and swiped at it weakly, sending it sailing into the air, legs flailing for something to grab. It was surprisingly light, but hard.
The rotating face turned, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, as a crunching sound signalled the creatures arrival at the wall. The face turned back to him with a mix of shock and disbelief.
"Snards!" | I was known as the one that brought peace. Remember that death ray Nikola Tesla claimed to have operational? Yeah he went over budget so never got to build a full size one. I did, I built an actual dead ray. And any country that had the money bought one from me. With those billions of dollars I gave one to every country that didn't. And peace was sustained for the first part of my lifetime. That wasn't even my biggest accomplishment. I was raged as a great philosopher, scientist, and writer. But arguably my biggest accomplishment was the cloning of Walt Disney. And the subsequent discovery how to actually preserve a living human in cryogenic stasis. This one I didn't do on my own of course. But I was the brain. I was the first and so far only subject when two years after our cloning. I got testicular cancer. I fought it for 5 months. Meanwhile my team of scientists, which got bigger by the week, where preparing the cryogenic chamber. I got put in it when the doctors said I only had a week to live.
While our method of cryogenic freezing, Actually preserved me near perfectly. The method of safely unfreezing was only found 1 millennium after I was frozen. I don't think anybody can imagine what a millennium does to a world. Especially such a world as ours. Because of the little decay my body had endured I had to relearn everything. Which was convenient because everything had changed. Even the flora and fauna had changed in the time I was unconscious. Addapting to this new world was difficult. Not only because of the complete new technology's, languages, but because of the current generation of humans. I stood still while the rest of humanity had evolved with a little help of technology. My recovery period was not only interesting for me. But also for the world. Most of it was broadcast and In the following years I taught a lot about how the world was In my time. But the biggest adapting challenge for me was that while in my time I was a genius. Because of this artificial evolution, I was as smart as a common 10 year old.
Note: wrote on mobile, and no sleep. any help with any mistakes I made is welcome. Formatting help wouldn't be left unappreciated either.
Edit: realism
| 2017-08-02T23:57:26 | 2017-08-02T22:53:46 | 96 | 45 |
[WP] You are a normal citizen in a relatively unimportant country. One day the goverment starts to act crazy, changing ideology overnight, drafting people for the army and antagonizing their neighbours. The player controlling your country in a strategy game has just begun their world conquest run. | "Look, I'm sorry Sarge, but it still doesn't make much sense."
"I told you before Private, it's about tourism. Have you seen the statistics? If we don't strike now, the entire world will be wearing blue jeans and listening to American pop music!"
"You have an Ariana Grande playlist!"
"That's...I have no idea what you're talking about. And even if your completely spurious allegations were correct, it would be immaterial. The point is, the Chinese and Iranians aren't yet. But at the rate new film studios have been opening the past decade, it's only a matter of time. And we can't count on them to launch a naval invasion because our best intel has concluded they don't really understand how boats work. It has to be us."
"But why do we care! Blue jeans are nice! Why do we have to invade the United States... which incidentally given the size of their military and nuclear stockpile seems like an objectively terrible idea...to stop Iranians from visiting Disney World and wearing blue jeans?"
"Because going to space would take too long."
"...What does that have to do with ANYTHING!"
"Also don't tell anybody but I think I heard the brass whispering about going for Russia next."
"WHAT."
"Don't worry about it, Private. It'll be a cake walk. Intel reports that the Americans don't really know how their nukes work anyway. By the might of Ahura Mazda, we'll show them how Canadians fight!"
"This is insane...what was that last bit again?"
"Wait...the part about Ahura Mazda? The one true god of Zoroastrianism, the state religion of Canada as of 9:00 AM this morning?"
"No, who the fuck is Ahura Mazda!"
"Die heretic!"
*Blam* | One month after our nation seemed to have gone mad, retooling our entire economy and declaring war on our closest ally, a package arrived at my door. Inside was a sword and armor in a style completely different from our regular military uniforms, yet accompanied by a note declaring me to be drafted.
I arrived wearing the armor and bearing the sword, at the city's armory. There, an officer told me I was now a "Hero Unit". "Congratulations, son; you're going to be one of the toughest of all our people, and one of the most important. Do you know how to view your stats?"
"My... what?"
At that point, the interface windows crowded my vision for the first time... | 2019-03-10T12:43:25 | 2019-03-10T11:09:05 | 66 | 22 |
[WP]Every year on your birthday, you get a visit from the Grim Reaper who challenges you to a contest with the next year of your life on the line. | Ever since I can remember, I've always had a stranger at my birthdays. It started when a faceless hooded figure introduced himself as 'Gim' and asked to play Sonic and Knuckles with me on my 5th birthday in 1998.
Every year, it was the same thing. Gim would show up. We'd play tag, Halo, go bowling, laser tag, guitar hero, you name it. Gim never seemed very competitive, and I always won. He wasn't bad, but I was just a little better.
Pretty soon, It was like he was a family friend. Always laughing and joking with my mom, cutting the cake for us, cleaning up afterwards. But each and every time, after I won and the cake was eaten, he would walk up to me and crouch down to my eye level.
"How you doin kiddo?" emanates from the faceless void in a warm tone.
"I'm great Gim! Are you leavin'?"
He nods.
"I'll see you next year though, right?"
"Every year til you're dead, buddy!" a raspy laugh rustles the fabric of his hood.
He pats me on the shoulder and walks out the front door, whistling a bright song that I don't recognize.
Then, 365 days on the dot, he's back again.
This went on every year until the last.
I was in my second year of college. Majoring in Biology. I was about to turn 21.
I was sitting outside a local bar, having a cigarette, waiting for my birthday to hit so I could do something the locals refer to has 'power hour'. Drinking on your birthday for the last hour before last call.
It's nearing midnight, so i went to put out my cigarette and reached for my ID, when I felt a cold breeze blow through my bones. I turned. There was Gim, leaning against a scythe like a walking stick.
"Hey! Gim! Long time no see!" I yelled to him.
He strolled calmly towards me.
"Hey kiddo. Happy birthday." He said, firmly squeezing my shoulder.
"What're we gonna play this year?" I asked inquisitively.
"I was thinking we change it up, seeing as how you're finally a man and all. A drinking game perhaps?" He said.
"I'm game if you are! Ill warn you though, i've been practicing!" I said with a smile and laugh.
For a second I swear I saw the flash of white teeth through the blackness in Gim's hood.
We entered the run down dive bar, neon illuminating my eyes as I entered a bar for the first time.
"It's this boys 21st!" Gim yelled through the bar, powerfully. "Show him a good time!"
A cheer burst forth, Happy Birthdays and congratulations abound.
A girl about my age handed me a shot and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
"Happy Birthday!" she said in a floaty voice. "Come find me later."
Gim handed me a stein of a dark and smoky colored beer. It tasted like coffee.
"Okay, here's the deal. We drink the same amount. Last one standing wins." Gim said.
"Alright! The usual bet?" I asked.
"That's why its called the usual!" Jim laughed deep from his stomach.
We clinked our glasses and commenced drinking.
This was the first time I ever had a really life altering talk with Gim.
We talked about girls, and how not to talk to them.
We talked about how I wanted to be a marine veterinarian. Gim said that was something he thought i'd be good at. I agreed. We talked about how my mom was still sick, and not getting better.
We talked about a lot of things.
It was about 3 steins of lager and 8 shots later that last call rolled around. Gim seemed to be handling his alcohol much better than I had. I grabbed onto him for support as we stumbled out of the bar into the cold winter air.
"Thanks Gim that was a lot of fun!" I giggled and hiccuped.
"Yes, it was. You're a good kid. I guess we could call it a tie this year."
I sat on a bench and lit up a cigarette.
"If you say so, although i'm pretty damn sure that you won." I slurred and tilted my head towards him.
"I'm pretty sure I did too, but in this case we both lose" He said, laughing. "Maybe you shouldn't be driving."
"Don't worry, I live real close." I said.
"I know you do, kiddo." He stood next to me and bent down. "I'm going now. But I'll see you soon."
"365 days right?" I said through a cheesy smile.
"Sooner, I think." Gim said somberly. "Drive safe, Kiddo." | *Blip Bloop,* my phone chimed. I didn't need to check it to know that it was Sheila. She was the only person who sent me happy birthday texts before it was actually 12:00 am. The watch said 11:58.
I sat on my bed and waited. Dad was probably still at the bar and it would be a miracle if he came back before 2am. He would sheepishly come to my room tomorrow afternoon, mumble something like "H'birday kiddo. M'proud'f ya." and kiss me on the cheek. I don't get angry at him anymore. He's a good man. He's just not a family guy.
11:59. Less than a minute before HE arrived. I wondered what game he would challenge me to this year. It would have to be something I knew otherwise it would be unfair. HE took personal pride in never being unfair.
I stared at the clock on the wall as the second hand raced toward the top. I loved this part. 11:59:55....56.......57............58...................... The world slowed to a crawl and then stopped.
**Happy Birthday, Claire.**
"Why can you never appear in front of me? You know, like a civilized person."
**Where is the drama in that?**
I turned around. HE looked the same as he did the last time; blue suit, swept back jet black hair, puffy cheeks and a disarming smile. His complexion was dark-brown and his age could be anything from 30 to 70. In reality, HE was about 14 billion years old. Tradition dictated that HE look like a skeleton and wear a black robe, but HE had ditched that outfit after a spree of annoying incidents with some dogs in the night-time. HE still carried his scythe which was currently leaning against me dresser.
"So, what is it this year? Is it the year I die?"
**I do not know the future, Claire. But this year, I have decided to challenge to a game of chess.**
"I'm good at chess," I bragged.
**Well, you've never played against me.** HE twirled his hand and a chess board appeared on the bed, complete with shiny ivory pieces. I was black, HE moved first.
Half-an-hour later the last move of the game was played.
**Knight to C5, checkmate.**
I stared at the board for a long time. This made no sense. The memory of the first challenge HE had offered me rose up in my mind. I was only one year old at that time, but this memory, and this one alone, was crystal clear in my head. I remember lying in my crib when a round face had come into my view. It had said, **I challenge you to grab my finger**, and pointed its right hand index at me. It had taken me a few tries but I had succeeded.
After that day, HE had given me 16 more of these challenges and I had emerged victorious every time. It was as if HE had been letting me win all along. But today-
"Does this mean I'm gonna die right now?"
**Yes Claire.** HIS face was expressionless.
"Can I call my father to say goodbye?"
**No.**
"But, I don't understand. What does this all mean? I thought you always let me win."
**No Claire, you always won fair and square.**
I wanted to cry, but I felt too empty to do so.
"Is it going to hurt?"
**No.** HE raised the scythe.
"I'm scared," I said, my eyes fixated on the impossibly sharp blade. "I keep thinking this is a nightmare I can't wake up from."
**Me too.** The scythe swung down. | 2015-01-26T14:59:51 | 2015-01-26T11:29:00 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] For every 10 lives you save, you get an extra life for yourself, shown as a number visible only to you on your wrist. Waking up with bad hangover after a particularly rowdy night, you look at your arm through blurry eyes to see the faintly glowing number: 700,000,000. | "Evening!"
"Evening Jim!" Then in a hushed tone, "Hey what are you up to now?"
"You know the Rules man." I glanced down at my wrist and check anyway. One. I'm down to one life. Ah well, shit happens.
I headed over to my locker and hung up my coat, swapping it out for the department jacket. Fighting fires wasn't as well respected anymore, not with VitaLife handing out full blown resurrections. Everyone wanted in on some of the action, since it was one of the easiest ways to save lives. And for every ten lives, VitaLife credited one resurrection to your account, which was weird... How did they know you saved a life, anyway?
But you still had to pass the check. You still had to prove you were worth something to the corp. Not everyone turned out to be... "compatible" they said.
But me? I'm good. Down to my last life, sure. But that doesn't mean we won't get the Big One today. That fire to rock all fires.
I shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed a stale donut. "Can you believe they still bring those things?" Berry asked as he passed the kitchen on the way to the daily briefing. I didn't have a chance to answer though. Our whole department lit up with minitors beeping, preparing for dispatch. Everyone started heading to the rigs, listening.
"Station 5-2 respond priority 1 full arrest-"
We started running- "1735 south avenue. 1735 south avenue for an 8 month old female-"
Oh god damn, a kid-
"not conscious not breathing mother has begun CPR tones out 2231."
We were already pulling out of the station by the time dispatch time stamped, full lights and sirens. I was riding backwards, behind the CO.
"Rescue 5-2 responding."
"Clear Rescue 5-2 responding. Be advised mother is no longer communicating coherently."
"Clear."
I wondered what the hell that meant, until we arrived on scene. The kid was outside. They must have been on a walk. At night though? The stroller was tipped over, the baby was in the grass, motionless. The mother was... gone. The CO told the engineer to go check the house for the mother.
"Dispatch Lieutenant 5-2"
I knelt down, checked for breathing, and took a pulse. Nothing. Shit.
"Go ahead 5-2."
"We're arrival. Mother is not on scene, looking for her now. Beginning CPR."
I started compressions, and looked up at the LT, eyes starting to get too wet to work. I blinked hard and looked back at the girl. My tear fell right on her cheek. "God please make this work."
The LT knelt and started prepping the AED, his back to me. I don't think he wanted me to see him. I looked back at this little girl and she... she looked right into my eyes, my tear rolling down her cheek.
That was the last thing I remembered, until I woke up this morning. My head was split. I couldn't get up for a solid 10 minutes. When I finally did manage to move, the entire room moved too. I finally got my feet up under me. I grabbed my glasses off my nightstand, but they didn't do any good, since I still had my contacts in. I rubbed my eyes, and shambled to the bathroom. I flicked on the lights, then immediately flicked them off. Damn I was hungover... But mid stream it hit me. I wasn't out partying last night. We had that call... What happened?
I looked down at my wrist. Seven. Hundred. Million. What the f-
​
\---go easy, it's my first time. | In the beginning I relished in my new found chance at immortality. A good deed done here or there which added up to more time here on this earth that was so precious to me. I would find all the ways a man could to reach out and save lives, but never for them, always for me and to continue my own hollow and ambitious existence. Then I fell in love, then I had my daughter. It changed everything for me.
They say that the cruelest loss is that of a child, but now I have watched four generations of my legacy pass before my very eyes. I buried my wife, and our daughters, and their sons and daughters. I am the constant protector of my family, a guardian to watch over them, but I was never strong enough to survive the first loss. Now I roam this world a ghost of a man who is desperate to see if there is an afterlife. To be connected with those I love once more.
I woke in blinding pain. Immortality does not spare you from a hangover, and this one was orders of magnitude beyond what I had experienced in recent memory. I stumbled to the bathroom of my house, a house as large as some royal estates from my own time, and then I saw it, the number. I blinked in disbelief and closed my eyes. I willed it not to be true but there it was staring me in the face like the torturous curse it was. I had tried so hard not to get involved, to do no good that I might actually save another human. I wanted it to end. You may think I am pathetic, that I should do more, but you can't know my pain.
The memories flooded back in and I remembered leaving the bar. The young man who looked like one of my grandsons with his hopeful eyes and naive ideals of changing the world. He had been celebrating something. I swore. He was celebrating getting into a medical school. He wanted to drive home, and I couldn't let him. Despite my code in my drunken state I couldn't bring myself to let that boy get in his car and drive. I had called him an Uber, he had thanked me and promised to pay me back. Damn me. Damn me to this hell I have put myself in.
I threw back my head in the shower and howled with dispair. I let the pain and rage flow through me. I had failed so utterly and completely and doomed myself to this horrific and lonely existence. As my anguish cleared, however. I resigned myself to my fate as I had so many times before. If I was stuck here perhaps it was time to accept my role. There were things in the world that needed changing and I now knew one person who could bring about that change. Afterall, what good is immortality if you have no one to share it with?
(on mobile at work so sorry for typos). | 2019-08-28T11:02:55 | 2019-08-28T09:50:20 | 90 | 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. | Humans 1.01 Bugfix release.
Bugfix: Bacteroides removed from gut.
Bugfix: Clostridium removed from gut.
Bugfix: Faecalibacterium removed from gut.
Bugfix: Eubacterium removed from gut.
Bugfix: Ruminococcus removed from gut.
Bugfix: Peptococcus removed from gut.
Bugfix: Peptostreptococcus removed from gut.
Bugfix: Bifidobacterium removed from gut.
Tickets HB-10073 (Erotic zone too close to Anus), HB-10087 (Cannot keep eyes open while sneezing), HB-10102 (Must lose control for 1/3rd the time), HB-10125 (Startup process takes 18 years) and various others have been marked as "Working as Intended".
Tickets HB-10078 (Biting your own cheek), HB-10084 (Suicide?), HB-10092 (immune system causes societally disfiguring facial pocs) and HB-10111 (Menstrual Shedding?!!) have been marked as "unable to reproduce".
Major items for next release include bugfixes of more unintended flora. Major structural complaints are a platform fault, and God has no intention of working further on these. God reminds you who exactly is the omnipotent, omniscient creator being, and thus, who likely has the better view of things.
| Human v1.1
* Created basic cell membrane and stored in new GIT repository. Does nothing yet, but will provide a better basis to develop from than the old DNA sequence which jumps back and forth between coding sequences and is full of dead code. There was actually a *goto* command in there. Whatever crack-smoking monkey created this mess appears to have been writing DNA sequences randomly while trying to see whatever happened to work. Oh and of course nothing is documented. FMAL | 2015-08-25T07:25:41 | 2015-08-25T07:22:26 | 878 | 112 |
[WP] You are secretly the richest person in the world. But to avoid suspicion of having so much money, you decide to work a normal office job. One day, your boss fires you. But what he didn't realise... Was how incredibly petty you are, and the lengths you will go to get back at him.
Damn, I came up with this idea while I was waking my dog this morning, wrote it down, then went to school and forgot all about it, I cant believe this post blew up the way it did, and I am very thankful for everyone who commented and especially for giving gold 👍 | I felt the painful glare of the computer screen attacking my eyes as I stared at it for a second too long. Trying to not breathe a single whiff of Mr. Taggart-call-me-Tag's cheap musky cologne, while the sticky heat from his sweaty, stubby fingers made their way across my shoulder blades in what I'm sure was supposed to be an inviting caress, rather than a repulsive accost.
"You see, Lucy, there are perks that come with my new promotion. Firing discretion is one of them. Now I know you pretty broads don't understand the big words, so lemme explain it to you plain: I. Own. Your. Job." Each of those last four words was punctuated by a gummy thumb rub. "So go make me a coffee, Lucy, two sugars, one cream. And put a little sway on your way there. You know I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go." He chuckled at what he surely though was original wit.
"No" I stated resolutely. "Get it yourself." As I pushed my chair back to force him out of my personal space.
"Oh, Lucy. You're such a tease, you know." He said, becoming redder and sweatier. "You see, I'm just a nice guy throwing a fat girl a bone. You're not hot enough to be such a bitch. So either go get me a coffee, or go get a box for your things.", the smug bastard said, showing nicotine-stained teeth as his foul smelling spittle landed on my cheek.
"Get out of my way" I said coldly,as I stood up, towering more that a foot over his balding head. I made up my mind in that instant that I was done pretending to be normal, "one of them." I was not. He had just won a first row seat to see how much more of a bitch I could be.
"I'm sure you last paycheck will be ready for you to pick up in about a month or two".
"Keep it" I said without turning back, as I applied my custom color Guerlain KissKiss Diamond Edition lipstick, a plan already forming in my mind.
I got home a little after lunch and immediately started to work on fine-tuning even the most miniscule detail of his future destruction. This was now my full time occupation.
It was well after sunrise when my scheme was ready for execution. Operation Morningstar was a go.
A few hours and several phone calls later, I got a text message from a blocked number with just three words: " It is done."
The next day, an aunt he hadn't known existed, and who conveniently enough, had no other relatives, died and left him an inheritance. Not just a vase or a couch, either. Ten million dollars after tax.
I spent the next months watching his life implode from all fronts.
Sometimes it is more fun to watch them destroy themselves.
I watched him lose everyone who ever cared about him by showing his true self. It's funny how people with inferiority complexes will treat others as inferiors the instant they come in contact with a little money.
I watched him start failed venture after failed venture. I watched him believe his money would last forever. That's why I had settled on that amount. It was enough to turn his life around, but not enough to buy him a permanent respite from any of his problems. I was there, observing when he surrounded himself with sycophants and supplicants, waiting for morsels to fall of his plate. I watched him fall into vices. I watched him fall into debt.
Then finally, I watched him lose it all.
On the anniversary of our last encounter, he was called into the office of his bank account manager to discuss a payment plan for his ever growing debt. I was in a back room, waiting for my cue. Watching one last time.
I saw on the monitor in front of me a gaunt, twitchy, shadow of a man who somehow still had not been humbled.
"Would you like to meet your benefactor?"
"Benefactor?"
"Yes, the person who gifted the ten millions."
"No one gifted me my money. It was family money" he said sneering in a petulant manner.
"It was family money, Sir. But unfortunately just not your family's. The money gifted to you came from a family whose fortune is, to put it plainly, older than dirt." Said the banker in his calm manner.
How right he was. How very *exactly* right he was.
This was my cue. I stepped into the office and cleared my throat.
"Good evening, Mr. Taggart."
His head whipped around while his eyes opened wide with surprise.
"L-L-Lucy?" He stammered.
"Call me Lucifer."
| It was 5:30 AM. My 1969 Ferrari 512S Berlinetta raced down the highway. It was that time of the night, where the darkness was slowly fading to day, where the pitch black almost had a tinge of light to it. You couldn't see this in a city, which is why I was flying through the Tehachapi Pass. Well, that wasn't *the* reason, but it was close enough. I saw my exit, downshifted, and took the offramp at a freakish 120 mph. I shifted back, and was calmly cruising at 160 again, up the 99 to Fresno. I could've taken the 5 but... eh. I like less traveled roads. It was 6:00 AM. The sun was peeking out. By 10 I was back at my house in the Santa Cruz Mountains. I parked, switched to my 2006 Civic, or as I referred to it, "The Shitbox", and left for my day job. No work and all play really does make Jack a dull boy.
I pulled into the parking structure. I could buy this company like my dickhead boss could by a Coke and I still had to deal with the prick. I sat at my desk, loaded my desktop, and the phone rang.
"Hi, this is Steve, how can I help you?"
"Steve!" I heard my manager's voice. I wanted to wring his neck. "I need to talk to you."
I walked to his office.
"Steve! Come in, have a seat. Do you know why you're here?"
I thought for a second, before realizing I didn't really give a shit. I was ready to just fucking sock him in the jaw.
"Look, the VP reviewed some things and you're just not pulling your weight around here. I'm sorry"
*No you're not you fucking prick. If you were you wouldn't be here.* I thought.
I was being fired. I punched the douchebag boss in the face. Gut reaction, I guess. Out came my phone. With my vast resources, I'd have this mess cleaned up in no time.
"Jack, it's Steve." I called the CEO of a conglomerate in the same industry. I owned the parent company, but Jack ran his ship well, so I trusted him.
"Hey, what's up?"
"I need you to make a purchase."
I rattled the details off. 30 minutes later I got a text.
From: Jack
>>>Done
I made a couple more calls. Suddenly, my manager was out of a job, and blacklisted from our industry. He'd been working here 30 years and now that was all worthless.
I called the bank that he'd done his car loan with, and his home loan. That Audi R8 he loved so much was about to be mine. As for his house, well, I think he needs to be taught a lesson. I owned the bank, so making a "data entry error" was as simple as calling a datacenter engineer and making sure his daughter got those medical treatments she needed. I wasn't totally heartless.
After I'd foreclosed on everything I could take from him, and crushed his life like a soda can under a truck tire, I sat back. 3 months had passed. I was angry, but that was gone. I was now just... content. Happy. Relaxed. My revenge had worked. I sat in front of my fireplace, and looked at the urn with my grandfather's ashes.
"Thanks Gramps, for everything"
I swear, the little pyramid with the eye was staring right at me, and I was *sure* it glowed. | 2019-03-04T09:27:11 | 2019-03-04T08:49:15 | 182 | 48 |
[WP] The End of Days came and swept across the globe in mere hours. And you managed to miss it because you slept in. | I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked again.
Yep still there.
My neighbour was outside his house looking at it too.
"Hey!" I yelled. "Hey Ollie!"
"Yeeeees?" he said, barely sparing a glance with his eyes mostly locked on the staircase.
I gesticulated wildly at the staircase.
"Yep, seems they got 'em all, so I guess they're putting it back."
"Putting what back." I demanded.
"The uh...Rapture staircase? Whatever the heck they call it."
I paled. "There...that's a rapture staircase?"
"Sure was," he said, nodding as with a golden light and a harmonious hymn the staircase folded up completely and disappeared.
He looked at me seriously now with a quizzical look. "How did you not hear it?"
"...Slept in," I grumbled.
He laughed. "Trumpets? Hymns of jubilation? I think Metatron spoke with the voice of God at one point."
I looked away sheepishly.
"Wait, why the fuck are you still here?" I demanded.
He smiled and winked. "I just love [REDACTED BY MOD REQUEST]ing people. Love it to pieces. Well, no, it's them I [REDACTED BY MOD REQUEST] to pieces."
"Oh."
"Sloth is a sin too I guess," he said in a conciliatory tone.
I nodded, turned around, and went back to sleep. | I got up and looked out side. With a start, I saw the apocalypse happening around me. Things on fire, people running and screaming, what you would expect to see. Weirdly, my house was relatively unscathed. Thats a good sign. I went down to my survival bunker in my back yard. I closed the hatch and looked around.
"Fuck it." I said, and went back to sleep. | 2017-05-25T08:21:04 | 2017-05-25T06:16:45 | 33 | 19 |
[WP] An adult who had died trying to survive against all odds and a kid who commits suicide meet in the afterlife.
Humanity is near extinction after "x" happens . One man, who fought to the very end to survive finally perishes. Immediately after, before reaching heaven or hell, his soul meets up with the soul of a young boy who, tragically, took his own life a few years prior to "x" for a non-affiliated reason.
The two engage in conversation.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
**EDIT:** Some advice for those who may be stuck. Consider the alternative attitudes to what others have posted so far. As of right now, we've seen:
* The Child is happy with his/her decision to end his/her life and the Man admires the child's courage.
* The Child expresses remorse with his/her decision and the Man consoles the child.
But what if....
* Both the Child AND the Man are confident with their decisions and are now trying to justify themselves to the other (who wins?)
* Both the Child AND the Man express remores with their decisions and are now trying to justify to the other why they are wrong.
* Neither the Child nor the Man care to discuss their reasoning and instead focus on where they may be going or where the other is going.
* Neither the Child nor the Man have any idea where they are or why they are there.
Also, if you bring purgatory into this, if you are going by Christian Tradition, then it is and never was an "in-between" place of nothing-ness or mid-point between heaven and hell. This is a very common misconception. Instead, it is a cleansing fire of intense pain and suffering as sins are purged from the soul before a clean spirit emerges that can enter heaven. This could be an interesting thing to tie-in. That being said, if you want your stories to have an "in-between" nothingness place, or keep everything abstract, that is perfectly fine.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
**Edit 2:** Someone posted here asking why prompts here frequently tend to be "about God, the supernatural, and pretty much all things lame". That person has since deleted that comment, but I thought it was worth mentioning to the group as a whole, perhaps as inspiration, maybe even as a challenge. Really, I just wrote a lot and didn't want it to go to waste.
**Immediate TL;DR: because often times, stories are the most accurate way to explain complex concepts, theories, and truths.**
i.e. God, the supernatural and pretty much everything that was referred to as "lame".
We often look to stories for guidance in morality which ought to be founded in truth. Truth can be defined simply as "What is". In other words, something is true to the degree that it accurately reflects reality independent of space and time. So, in the stories we write, we know right away when they don't perfectly capture human emotion, behavior, and developement. We know when something is unlikely, or adjusted in order to round out the story, because we don't believe it.
This is especially apparent when reading prompts and you can tell that the author is trying to push a message or morality acrossed, but the story just doesn't add up to accurately reflect reality. In mathmatics, we are often required to "show our work", that is, use the elements provided to prove our answer. In storytelling, we back up our answer to the prompt by showing our work through the characters. If we fudge the characters, then it will be obvious and the answer is not believable.
So in this circumstance, the question posed in the prompt is what do you, the author, think about suicide in the midst of struggle and hardship. To carry on this conversation two sides are represented, one who favored suicide, and one who carried on fighting. As an additional twist, the two positions are separated by age and circumstance when the yonger, often less mature, suicide victim is faced with a hardship most would consider less severe than that of the hopelessness of an inevitable human extinction that the older, often more mature, victim faced.
Obviously, the writers here take this prompt in any way they deemed fit, to pursue whatever truth they wish, and that is perfectly fine. I only ask that you, the reader, or the writer analyze each story mathematically in a search for what is true within these complex issues.
Thanks for reading! I'm not much of a writer myself, just an active ponderer, so I apologize if my thoughts were not communicated clearly.
Happy writing!
-Taz
| Even dead, Ellis walked with a limp. He didn't dare examine his left leg after the landmine: the smell of burnt sausage persuaded him against looking down. This was a good thing. Had Ellis looked down, he would have seen his leg as a bloody mess of frayed tendrils, scarred and discoloured from gangrene.
Ellis stopped and surveyed the area. The afterlife wasn't what he had expected. The land was coarse marble, no real ground to speak of. It was undulating and rose and fell constantly, so that he could never see more than half a mile in one direction. There were no markers of note, no flora or fauna, just an uneven marble landscape under a sky sinister with storm clouds. It was a bitch to cross with a disheveled leg.
Ellis felt his hip for a flask. He wanted something to drink, something to splash on himself, but his hip was bare and his pockets were empty. A force of habit was all it was anyway: there was no thirst to be felt here. Ellis closed his eyes and twirled, his finger sticking outwards. With no stars above, this was no world for a cartographer, but Ellis was confident he was pointing north when he opened his eyes. He sighed and ambled north, cursing every time he step down his left leg.
You didn't need to shave in the afterlife, reflected D. His upper lip still wore the same shadow of a moustache six months on. It was a small perk, but he was grateful for it. He enjoyed few enough perks on Earth, so he knew to be thankful. He could see a man nearing. A soldier, judging by the limp. D stood still as he approached, a ghost in place ghosts called home. The soldier craned his neck up, and when he saw D he burst into a mad dash, ignoring his wounded leg.
"I knew I wouldn't be alone. I knew it" he cried.
D looked at him blankly.
"Dammit, I knew it" he repeated.
The soldier thrust out his hand. His face was a portrait of ecstasy. D felt sorry for him. The plane was so vast, the soldier could have walked it for two thousand years and they never would have met. D didn't want to see him crushed, but he knew there would be no alternative.
"I’m Ellis. Ellis Button" Ellis Button said. His hand was still outstretched. His face was still aglow.
"I'm D. Just D” D said.
D took Ellis’s hand and shook it gingerly.
"I've been here about two days I reckon" began Ellis. "I don't know. I don't know what to make of any of this" he said, waving his hand in a grand theatrical gesture.
"I heard my foot step on a landmine and I felt a bullet scathe my back, but I guess the landmine got me, huh?"
D didn't comment. Ellis’s death, the most important thing to happen to Ellis since his birth, bored him greatly. D was about as excitable as a glass of lukewarm milk. Ellis’s grin flickered. Easy, he thought, the kid’s only about fourteen.
"So what’s your story, D?"
D lifted his head up. His throat had been sliced, many times. Ellis wasn't an expert, but guessed D had been slashed with a razor blade. He squinted. The angle made the cuts look self-inflicted. D dropped his head back down. He didn't speak. For a long time neither did Ellis.
Ellis thought of his last waking moments. Of his comrades screaming his name, of how they had gone out, expecting to die. Of how the battle came to a hiatus and for ten minutes it looked like they might live. They were willing to give their lives, but they weren't willing to give their families lives. But D? Was this how bad things had gotten back home?
D didn't think of anything. He just wished Ellis would leave. He had an idea.
“Keep going the way you were going” he said.
“North?”
“Yeah, north. Just keep going north, you’ll run into everybody else”.
“How do you know?” Ellis asked.
“Everyone goes north”
“Aren't you going to come?”
D shook his head.
"Someone has to tell people to go north" he explained.
Ellis looked at D momentarily. He saw a simple face that could only handle one concern at a time. Ellis gave him a military salute and turned to leave. They both looked onwards.
| "Where am I?" the young kid asked. He had dirty blond hair, a crooked nose, and vivid green eyes. The eyes shifted side to side. He took a step forward, though the place he was in had no floor, nor did it have anything around that his mind could put a schema on.
"Purgatory, I think," grumbled a rough voice. The kid looked over his left shoulder slowly. What he saw sent a chill down his spine. A man stood, seemingly leaning back against a wall, though the boy couldn't see a surface. His head was bald or shaved, the boy couldn't tell, and thick white scars marred the side of his skull. The healed wound surrounded a hole where his ear presumably used to be, then trailed down his neck into the collar of his leather jacket.
Up until now, the man had been staring into the distance, but now he turned his face and eyes towards the boy. The kid could see that the rest of his face was untouched, and he had deep brown eyes. Tattoos marked his cheeks, three horizontal stripes on the left, two on the right. He spoke again, "And I know all about you, boy."
Tears suddenly welled up in the child's eyes, and he viciously rubbed them away. "What would you know?" the kid squeaked out, his voice cracking. Clearing his throat, the boy continued through grit teeth, "What the hell *could* you know?"
The man straightened himself, then advanced on the child. "You had the strength to do what I couldn't, to do what many believed to be the ultimate act of cowardice. You evaluated the cost of living, and decided it was too high. It always is, isn't it? Too damn high..." The man sighed, then crouched before the boy. He was in his late thirties, and the boy couldn't be older than twelve, though he was short for his age. "And I know how you suffered. God, but I wish I didn't."
Despite the man's rough face, his smile was kind and sympathetic. Once again, unbidden tears sprung to the preteen's face. The kid's expression froze in agony as memories of his miserable life plagued his consciousness. No one cared, no one tried, and no one gave a damn what he wanted.
"I know you, too," the kid spoke softly. "I know how long you lasted in that blasted wasteland. I know those tattoos..." He paused, his hand slowly raising, his fingers hovering over the man's cheek. The man closed his eyes and leaned his face forward, allowing the boy's fingers to cover the two stripes. The boy gulped against the lump in his throat, "I know that these two markings represent the children you lost in the war... And those three... The three men you killed in the aftermath."
The man's smile was now full of sadness. "If I had just had the strength you had, kid, those men would be alive, and I'd be with my girls right now." The man's eyes opened, and they glistened.
The boy's breaths became shallow, and the tears flowed freely. "What's gonna happen to us? Where will we go?"
The man raised his hands, which were also riddled with scars, and enclosed the boy's that still caressed his cheek. "I don't know. But we can find out together, if you want."
All the boy could do was nod as the non-place shined brightly and a roaring filled his ears. | 2014-06-27T06:36:28 | 2014-06-27T04:12:34 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] You have been kidnapped and your wealthy significant other was told to pay the hefty ransom. Instead, they sent a message back to your kidnappers. “Nice knowing you.” While the kidnappers discuss their next move, you look up through the tiny window, stare at the full moon overhead … and smile. | He always worked hard to keep the beast within.
'Why when I try to to be a gentleman, there's always someone chasing the beast?' he wondered as he looked at the full moon.
Although it didn't force the transformation, it made it easier. Well, it was never easy as his bones broke and reshaped, the fur itching under his skin before sliding out while his mouth filled with blood and his jaw cracked in agony as his fangs burst forth, but it was quicker.
He remembered his family as he stood, how they would run through the forests of his homeland hunting their prey, not caring about the world until the world came to destroy their home.
Looking down at his hands he relaxed his hold on the beast a little, enough for his claws to start to rip through his finger beds...pain was never far for a lycanthrope.
The men around him didn't see his hands, they froze as the rays of the moon glistened off the saliva and blood dripping from his mouth and stared as his eyes changed from blue to green, reflecting the light back like search lights hunting for prey.
Jumping forward he clawed at the closest man, tearing his throat before he could move.
Reeling back the others tried desperately to flick the safeties off their guns, but they never stood a chance. With 10 seconds all but one was dead or dying.
As he walked towards the last man his suit tore as his back broke and he dropped to all fours... His transformation almost complete.
'what.... What are you?' the man screamed as Salias stalked his final prey.
'just a wolf... In mens clothing' he said before lunging forward to feast on flesh | As I stretched into my true reptilian form, the humans were still busy talking about how best to go about torturing and killing me. Fools. I was the descendant of a proud race of reptilians, spanning galaxies. All of the human race was but a blink in our eyes. My scale stretched and popped as my body adjusted after fifteen years of this miserable human shell. Finally, they turned back too late, their eyes widening in fear. I also spotted a few of the pathetic ones losing control of their bladders. I made easy work of them, and munched on their skin and bones, drinking their blood and relishing its coppery tang. No longer would I hide my true identity.
***She*** had to go. | 2021-03-19T01:52:30 | 2021-03-19T01:21:29 | 160 | 83 |
[WP] It is tradition that on your 18th birthday you are joined by a small magical creature, much like a familiar, to aid you in the rest of your life. When you wake on your 18th birthday and find yours sitting by you on the bed, you are.... disappointed, to say the least. | I was incredibly excited, so excited I could barely sleep that night but I managed to. When I woke up, instead of sleeping in I immediately snapped open my eyes and sat up, eyes trailing to the end of the bed where at first I saw nothing.
“Huh?” I squinted for a moment before I saw it, a small little bee flying around at the end of the bed. “You’re not- are you?”
The bee flew over to me, letting out a cute ‘brrrzz’ sound.
“Oh my god. You are.” I just sat there in disbelief. This wasn’t fair. My brother had gotten a dwarf wolf, my sister got a small Phoenix and I got...a bee.
A. Fucking. Bee.
The bee buzzed around my head happily and as cute as it was, I was disappointed. “Jesus- I- what.” I was so disappointed I could barely speak.
The bee stopped flying and landed on the blanket, looking up at me. “What can you even do?”
The bee stayed put for a moment before flying up and spinning around in its spot. When it stopped spinning, a drop of honey hung off its feet. It flew back down and placed it in my hands, which were now sticky.
“Is...that it?” I blinked.
The bee just stared at me as to say yes, yes it was.
A honeybee. My familiar was a freakin’ honeybee.
| When they said "small magical creature" , I cleraly dodn't expected this. Bit now, all things considered, I could get something much, much worse. Also, I don't know how will this help me in my life, but now I have it.
Well, my little friend, from now on you will be Remi, Remi the Spider familiar. | 2018-07-24T00:28:32 | 2018-07-23T23:14:22 | 62 | 13 |
[WP] They tried to summon a demon. They got you. | Have you ever been summoned? Like, literally pulled through fucking space and time on someone else's whim?
WELL, LET ME TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED THE OTHER DAY.
So, I'm chilling in the park, minding my own business and BOOM. I'm suddenly in this old warehouse, surrounded by -and I shit you not- fucking teenagers. Like fourteen, TOPS.
"Mammon?" squeaked one of them. Black kid that looked a lot like me around his age.
I sighed. I reached into my pocket, lit a cigarette and projected the most deadpan look I could muster.
"Of course the fuck not," I said, "I'm the dude, the now angry dude, who was enjoying a '40 -which I just opened- when out of nowhere I get pulled into wherever the fuck this is. How did you even manage this shit? And why do my balls itch?"
"Uh... I mean..." He stammered a bit, "people don't usually get--"
"--Get huh?"
"Get pulled thr--" He started getting flustered.
"Pulled where?" I wasn't letting up.
"Through the ast-"
"Through what, asshole?"
He took a deep breath, "Not an asshole, the--"
"--No, I'm calling you that."
"Why are you being such a dick?" the kid yelled, finally.
"I don't know, how about you just summoned me through a fucking portal. And my balls still itch. And I swear to god, if I have anothe--"
A girl spoke up, "Can we send him back?"
The kid started thumbing through the book, so I snatched it out of his hand.
"Where did you get this anyway?"
"I found it. Gimme that back!"
"No. Found it? Really?"
"Really."
"Really, really?"
"Yes!" he screams at the top of his lungs.
"Alrighty, I'll be borrowing it then. Indefinitely. Or until I can set it on fire, whichever comes first."
"We're not going to let you do that."
"Do you have any weapons?"
"No."
"I don't think you can stop me," I said, walking for the open door. "If this ever happens again, I'm calling your parents. Don't do drugs, Satan is bad."
Anyways, now I have a cool new coaster, but it'd be sweet if it would stop whispering at night. | The sounds of Billy Joel was replaced as a foul smell filled my nose.
"Dammit, I need to fix- Oh."
I was surrounded by a ring of hooded occultists.
The disappointment in the air was thicker than a bowl of oatmeal.
I stood in the circle, calculator in one hand and pen in the other, as the hoodies started muttering and talking with each other. I overheard the sentence "Well, he's wearing a red shirt and has a goatee, that has to mean something!"
One of them stepped forward. It looks like they bought their hoods from a clearance costume store.
"Beelzebub, we have summoned you-"
"Wow, seriously...Man you guys are pathetic. Did you fail geometry?" I said, pointing at the circle of red chalk.
"So you are not a demon?"
"I don't know, depends on who you ask really."
"What is your name, Demon?" Shouted one Hoodie. Man, his acne was bad, even from here.
"I'm Steven. Not a demon, sorry. Just a teenager."
"FUCKING HELL BOB THIS YOUR FAULT!" Rudolph the Red-Pimpled Reindeer started shouting, his voice cracking as he tried to act intimidating.
I sighed as I started to wonder where, exactly, I am.
Is that a bag of fucking Doritos next to a dead rabbit on that tree stump? | 2016-02-02T22:57:46 | 2016-02-02T18:16:53 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] When you sleep, instead of dreaming, you see a list of tips and tricks that will help you the next day. One night, you only see one tip, “Always aim for the head”. | Eyelashes crusted, his hand came up and brushed hard, then relaxed, as the tiny rough spheres rolled in fits down his face. Letters, then words, came seemingly out of nowhere, out of his subconscious to the forefront of his mind: "Always aim for the head". He knew words that came to him this way were always accurate, always meant for today.
Every night for as far back as he could remember, words of advice had found their way to him in his dreams. He periodically doubted these words as a child. It took some years to notice a pattern; the days he ignored the advice were slightly worse: a parent yelling, a missed flight, a sibling rebelling. The words strength and stature increased with every year that passed, soon becoming a percussive pounding impossible to ignore. Some days, he knew the words meaning only a few seconds before the moment in which he was to use them; other days, like today, he knew what they meant the moment they came into the fibers of his mind.
Over the years, he noticed the advice seemed only to provide small victories in the day; the rest of his life had been faltering. His dreams did not offer any all-encompassing solutions to the pressing problems of the day. At this moment, he had no reprieve from the stress and strain and pressure of everyday life. Only the moments of unconsciousness throughout the night brought any pause to his thoughts of self-doubt, racing and rolling around his mind. He tired to lift his fingers and hands and legs and every other limb, ligament, and muscle in his body. But he did, knowing the words would be accurate, that they would apply to today and only today. He stood, slowly twisting his back, as his cartilage cracked and popped providing slight relief. He walked over to his desk, running his hands across the cheap pine down to a faded brass handle and pulled. The words pounded in his head as he lowered his hand into the drawer, wrapped his hand around the textured handle and raised the barrel of the pistol to his head. He slowly exhaled, letting a wave a stillness envelop him. He was waiting for the day to use it, some days he would just stare at it for hours -- an infinite number of scenarios passing by, fading as fast as they came to him. He could take sanctuary in the words, the words that had guided him for so many years. He pulled the trigger. | Just another Saturday morning, sleeping in until nine o’clock then “Aim for the head”....
Now what in the world is this about, don’t own a gun, hell I don’t even own a bow or even a single arrow.
Well, next is taking the dog for her walk, about a one mile walk to start the day. Nothing unusual, the standard pee and pick up poo. Next breakfast, just shredded whole wheat, blueberries and bananas and a shower. Grocery shopping next but first I need the some cash for the farmers market. I’ll just use the bank on the way to the market.
Just one car at the ATM in line, only another minute or two. Maybe a bank robbery, quick look through the drive up window, still nothing unusual happening.
Now the market, fruits and vegetables, some pastries, lunch meat and cheese, and a hoagie for lunch. Now I can walk around and check out the other merchandise. Wow, that print is part of the set that I have hanging in the kitchen and only ten dollars. But still no head shot.
Back home, put away the groceries, then enjoy the hoagie. My afternoon plan is a movie with Jody, maybe then I’ll take that head shot.
But first, I am going to find a nail and hang the print!
| 2018-11-20T18:00:02 | 2018-11-20T15:58:54 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You have a peculiar 6th sense. On exams you see the correct answers highlighted. During conversations you read the words you see floating in the air like a teleprompter. Every single decision you've made has been the "correct" one and life is good. One day you try choosing the other option. | I picked it out of confusion, I think. I knew which one was the best, of course - the gift far to the left, wrapped in cheerfully non-denominational holiday paper, book shaped. It glowed in the pile of white elephant office gifts against all the others. They each had phrases above them like "oh, thanks..", and "who on Earth grabbed this", and "this is perfect!", but that book, whatever it was, was clearly chosen with me in mind. Instead I looked down at my lap while everyone else made their choices, running my hands over the thin paper, the flexible object inside. It was neutral. Above it hovered only "????". I'd never seen an option with a non response. I dearly wanted to know what was inside - no, I didn't want to just know, I wanted to OWN it. Whatever it was.
Stacy picked "my" gift. She ripped it open, revealing a hard cover history of The Real Mad Men. Perfect for our marketing team, right in line with my own interests, probably full of useful trivia and gorgeous prints of old ads. Displaying it in my office would have been yet another object giving me the right attitude, the right "feel" for clients and higher ups who persistently promoted me, since I always knew what to say and how to spin it.
I didn't open mine in front of everyone. I wasn't sure what I'd do when I did. Would I be disappointed? Elated? Confused? I wasn't ready to navigate that with witnesses.
I waited until everyone was a drink or two into the office party, and slipped back to my desk. Closed the door. Took a breath, and neatly slid open the paper.
Confusion warred across my features, I'm sure. I was holding a blank sketchbook, a light blue cover with thick paper sandwiched between. The "????" stayed above it, even as I snagged a pen from next to my mouse and held it against the paper.
I drew a meandering line. Nothing happened. A few dots. Nothing happened. Filled in some space. I doodled across the entire page, suddenly filled with a weird cross between trepidation and peace, and nothing, nothing, nothing happened. Like there were no consequences to this, except to someone like me, who had never not known the consequences in my entire lifetime.
I thought maybe I would draw a- um, maybe a bird? A bird, on the next oage, I decided suddenly. And just like that, an image of a bird rose off the page, what I had in my mind. This was more familiar, and it felt like relief and disappointment. For about ten minutes, anyway.
I'd never drawn anything in my life, not really. I stared in dismay at this crooked, gimpy, sketchy disaster and compared it to the floating hologram I could still see in my mind's eye.
It occurred to me that knowing what you wanted to do might not be the same as actually doing it. That I'd focused my entire life on the words and the answers given to me because it was so easy, but that didn't mean I had the physical skill. When I opened the next page, the "????" returned.
I could hear the party heating up outside my closed door, and when I lifted my head, I could see it clearly - if I went back out there now, I could prevent Stacy from getting too drunk and cheating on her husband with Mark. I would get some valuable facetime with the CEO and secure my next raise. Then a client would call with an emergency and I'd be exactly placed to deal with it in the moment. It would prevent us from losing a valuable account.
I bent my head back down and put my pen to the page. | I would be lying if I said that my ability to always make the right decision hasn’t been a big advantage to me in nearly every situation. I’ve never had to study for exams unlike my school mates, which is why I could spend my free time doing whatever I want. I’ve never had troubles with getting to know new people and manipulating them for my benefit, since a display\-like label that floats above their heads shows me what exactly I have to say to make them trust me. But I also have to admit that at some point I was kind of getting bored by everything going flawlessly and my not having to face challenges.
And this is why I decided to try something new, something that I had never done before: I chose not to follow the instructions I’ve been given. Just for once. Back then I hadn’t the faintest idea whether this was a smart or stupid thing to do, but I desperately needed this adrenaline kick, this feeling of excitement I have been longing for all my life and never gotten to experience.
So it was settled. Now I just had to wait for the right opportunity to put my plan into action. The next day at school, as I was walking to my locker to get my books, the students were, as always, connected to a text bubble floating above their heads that contained potential conversation starters for me to use. As I arrived at my locker, I saw Jeanne, a girl from the grade below me, standing in front of her locker next to mine. In her bubble was written:
“Hey Jeanne! I’ve heard you’ve had your maths exam yesterday, how did it go?”
Not following the instructions was harder than anticipated, since I had gotten used to it so much that it has become a kind of reflexive reaction. I gathered myself, focused on what I wanted to tell her, tipped on her shoulder and said:
“Hey Jeanne! Nice weather outside today, don’t you think so?”
I am not able to put into words what happened afterwards. All that I remember is that my vision got very blurry and the world around me started to get distorted. The next thing that I remember is my waking up in a bright white room surrounded by what looked like scientists in a blue lab coat to me. Confused and muddleheaded, I sat up and asked:
“Wh…what is going on? Where am I? What am I doing here?”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Johnson. You are in the Department of Psychology of Harvard University. You signed up for an experiment with the goal to analyse how children and teenagers react to random orders and whether or not they start to question them at a certain age. We use this data to scientifically support the importance of teaching kids critical thinking from a young age one. Thank you for your participation.” | 2018-04-15T14:48:40 | 2018-04-15T13:23:40 | 133 | 51 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | ​
I've been standing here for hours, hand outstretched above my head, and nothing has come. Only Mother is still here. Everyone else has wondered off. Well, that's not entirely true. Gorm is banging away at a ploughshare in his smithy on the south side of the square. He gets a new grip on the tongs, picks up the cooling iron, and with a flourish, banishes his hammer with a small flash before settling the ploughshare back in the forge's heat. Once the ploughshare is bright red again, he pulls it from the fire, and summons his hammer once again before continuing to work the metal.
I've seen Gorm do this up to hundreds of times a day for the last two years. I remember the first time he summoned his totem. Gorm's 2lb Blacksmith's hammer summoned to his hand almost instantly. I was in the crowd as he stood in the square, stretched his left hand above his head, and almost dropped the shining tool onto his skull as it thumped solidly into his palm before he was ready. There was a smattering of clapping and that was that. Nobody was disappointed by the nature of Gorm's totem. It was only right that the son of the poorest family in the town have something to occupy his hands, rather than going to the local monastery and learning to read those devilish books. At least that's what Father says. I think it’s bullshit.
Gorm stopped visiting the monastery after he summoned his totem. It was not seemly for the local blacksmith, and more so, the son of the poorest family in town to have book learning. I remember his face when he started working in the smithy the next day. There was no happiness left. It almost broke my heart. This beautiful lad had only wanted to read a book. I offered to teach him what I was learning, on the low. My heart melted as the light rose in his eyes again.
Mother found out after a month, stumbling over me and Gorm in the stable as we crouched over my primer and a stump of pencil. Mother did nothing, only telling us to use the storage shed, as it was the last place Father would go.
I learnt new things about Gorm over the next months we spent together. I had been fawning over him from afar since before he had summoned his totem, but he was even more beautiful when I got to know him. It didn't matter to me that he was relegated to the town's paid servant. It didn't matter to me that he didn't have a potential dowry to give my Father when he sold me off like the not-son piece of bargaining tool I was. I loved Gorm because he was gentle. He didn't seem to care that my face was considered undesirable, or that my wide, Unladylike shoulders caused the tailor to have fits. I wasn't beautiful. That didn't matter to Gorm. Gorm was simply Gorm. I cried in earnest when he told me he loved me one rainy day this last year. Gorm the gentle, Gorm the kind, loved undesirable, worthless-girl, un-beautiful, not-son me.
As months passed, Gorm began to tell me about Blacksmithing. I learned that steel could burn, making it worthless, but that it must be heated until it was almost at burning temperature in order to weld it. I learnt that working metal required a firm, steady hand, and that sometimes, knowing how to hit it was better than brute force. As I sat listening to his voice, I decided that I would not be sold off to an unkind landowner who was at least 20 years older than me. I would either be with Gorm, pounding metal on an anvil, or I would not live.
I snap back from my reverie and see that four or five of Father's friends have arrived. Father has stalked up behind Mother, and a rock thunks in my stomach as I see her face go from concerned love and support, to womanly subservience in a heartbeat. My Father is like a breath of grave air.
I’ve had enough of this. I talk plainly to myself in my mind.
"I don’t know if there is someone listening, but I just want to be beside Gorm, banging on pieces of metal until I die in my sleep, fifty years from now. I just want to be happy."
I feel a sort of snap, and see a flash of light in the corner of my eye.
Everyone looks at the hammer in my hand in horror. the men look like they've shat themselves. Father looks like he'll have an aneurism. I, the not-son, the girl, the unwanted daughter have disgraced myself. From now on, he will be known as the man whose daughter was given a Godsdamned blacksmith's hammer. He's probably wishing he could have a heart attack and die on the spot.
I turn toward Gorm's smithy, making my way through the small crowd that has gathered. People shy away from me like I have the Dragonclap. I am not a noble's daughter anymore. I'm nothing. Gorm's mouth hangs open as I walk up to him. I can hear my father frantically replying to the equally frantic rabble that has descended upon him demanding answers. I try to banish my hammer. It disappears, but I can still feel it connected to me. I try to pull it back into my hand. It pops back into existence with a small flash, just like Gorm's totem. Gorm the gentle looks back from my hand to my face, and my heart melts all over again.
"So I'm guessing I can kiss you in public then, me love?" |
The last year of school and everything felt supercharged and a bit crazy, even to my laid back self. Not only were we finishing up our A-levels it was the year of the gift; the year when everyone got a clue as to the defining purpose of their life. Sometimes you could tell straight away what life had in store for you - the poor lad from a few years above us who got a mop as his object certainly knew what it meant - but sometimes there was a lot of guesswork involved and everyone would get out the books and apps that correlated different types of gift with possible destinies. If you get a pen, not an uncommon gift, did that make you a writer, a journalist or just someone who loves to send letters?
Anyway, to say that life was at a fever pitch would be an understatement. My school is pretty big so that every week you’d get the gossip on who got what, especially when they didn’t come right out and tell you. There was Clara, top of the class (just ahead of my lazy ass) who got a scalpel, which caused a momentary freak out until we all remembered her ambition to be a surgeon. The bittersweet moment Simon, my football captain, got a stopwatch and knew he would have a career in the game but as a coach and not a player. I felt so bad for him, he always worked like a dog in training. And then the tragic ‘look away now’ moments like poor, always angry Sam, getting a knife. Not a kitchen knife but a vicious looking hunting knife. I heard that him and his family are getting mandatory counselling. That one really hurt, we had been in a (terrible) band together for a few years.
As my day approached I had a chat with my folks and we agreed that we would get together as a family that weekend and go for a picnic, then ‘the summoning’ would be the grand finale. I was absolutely buzzing that morning, packing up the bag and filling the cooler with drinks including my first legal beers. Dad joking with that he could finally stop pretending not to notice when I came home a bit ‘refreshed’ from hanging out with my friends. Picnic ready, we went up to the top meadow of our local nature reserve to meet up with my aunts, uncles and cousins.
It really had been a beautiful summers day, everyone sat around on the grass eating and chatting and as it started to get a bit late, I could tell that everyone was waiting for me to do my thing. I put down my plate, got to my feet and coughed a couple of times to get everyone's attention.
‘Righto..thanks for coming..I did try and write a speech but that might be best saved to after…’ I had felt relaxed all day but now at the moment I felt a sudden wash of adrenalin, my entire body flushing cold and then hot ‘I’m just going to get on with it then. Wish me luck!’.
I closed my eyes and held out my hand, tried to relax and let it happen. For a moment there was nothing. Then I heard a whoosh and something thumped into the palm of my hand - I caught it. It felt small and hard. I kept my eyes closed for a few seconds more, not daring to open them just yet, listening to the response from my family. There was a worrying moment of silence, then
‘What is that thing?’ (Uncle Seth?)
‘Is that a….’ (An aunt, not sure which one)
‘Oh my lord…’ (Mum, definitely)
‘Wait, there is something written on it...look!’
And then the laughter began...a little at first and then I could tell it was pretty much the whole group...oh shit. Time to open my eyes and face the future.
The first thing I saw was my Dad, with a look of pride? Confusion? on his face. My mum had her face in her hands, but I wasn’t sure if she was laughing or crying. My cousins, were flat out on the grass, gasping for breath as great peals of hilarity convulsed them. Still not moving I looked along my outstretched arm to what I held. It was a small container, glass and metal with a printed white label on the front. Oh shit. I knew the type. Medical sample jar. What the actual…? There was indeed some writing on it and I turned it slowly in hand so I could read it.
Sample deposit vessel: Human Sperm. Handle with care.
Oh. My. God. For once in my life I really had nothing to say.
My Dad recovered and came over to give me a huge hug. ‘It’s like I always said, son. Our family has great genes!’. | 2019-09-18T10:34:19 | 2019-09-18T10:15:38 | 68 | 21 |
[WP] Its your favorite time of year; the annual weapons harvest. The grenades are ready to be picked off the vine, the AK's are almost ready to be dug up. Your neighbor is revealing the results of a grafting experiment at the annual feast. | "*Da*, my friend." Ivan said, with a huge shit-eating grin on his face. I didn't care - he's Russian, this is what he does, this is what he's good at, and he deserves to be proud for it.
No, the real concern is the secret project he's been working on. If it truly is as groundbreaking as he claimed, he'll get a Nobel Weapon Prize and our entire town will benefit from his fame - and the fortune that comes after. If it's not... well, he's Russian. He'll figure out some other crazy stuff and we're none the worse for wear.
"Alright, buddy. Spit it out."
"Yes, Steve. Now, you grow assault rifle and submachinegun, no?"
"Yeah..."
"Right. So, when you go do harvest, you dig up AK-47, take off magazine, and take bullet, yes?"
"Yes."
"You pick M4 from tree and do same, yes?"
"Yes."
"UMP is good to plant in group. More profit for more-"
"Yes, yes, Ivan. More profit. Please, just get to the point." I looked at my watch. "My son wants me to go with him for his first pistol picking, and that's in an hour."
"Apologies, Steve. I will be fast." Ivan coughed. "Point is: you grow gun but do not grow bullet. you must rip mag off gun and throw away useless gun, no?"
"That's right. You're one to talk though..." His acres are entirely dedicated to growing IMI Negevs. It took a man of his stature to pick up so many light machine guns per day and harvest them for their box mags and bullets. Most people just make money off of bullets, because guns only come with one standard-sized magazine or clip, and it took a full, unfired bullet to make a seed for planting. Ivan makes decent money off of selling truckloads upon truckloads of 5.56s.
Ivan leaned closer to me, and I took an involuntary step back as his massive frame loomed over me. "I have found secret to not waste empty gun."
"Whoa. Seriously?" It was a matter of global debate ever since World War II, when some ultra-bored soldier found that he could plant bullets and grown fully-functional guns much like plants. However, no one's ever been able to solve the bullet crisis - sure, bullets can be produced just as before, but wasting perfectly good guns are another thing. Recycling the polymer, wood and metal parts just don't cut it anymore.
"Yes. Look here." Ivan waved me over and I followed him to his workshop. Inside, the usual hum of machinery was absent, replaced by an eerie silence. Disassembled guns and spare parts were pushed up against the walls, and only two light were on, one shining on a work table, and the other on a vault-like door.
Ivan pushed a button on a remote, and the vault door hissed open, revealing an airlock. We stepped in, and it closed again behind us. Something hissed again, whirred, went bump, and the other door opened. We stepped into a small armoury.
Guns of all types were everywhere - on the walls, on the floor, on tables, in boxes, in the cupboard, peeking out of the closet... the only clean place was a small path, carved out of a sea of guns, leading straight up to another table. Another gun rested upon it.
"Ivan, what is that?"
"This? This is future of gun." Ivan grinned and picked up the gun as it hummed to life, and something lit up inside the gun, a swirl of colours and fractals of light. Ivan patted it, almost mesmerized.
"This gun shoots light. Burning light. I call it laser." | Every autumn some of my neighbors and I get together and celebrate the harvest with a big feast. Each farmer brings one of his or her best crops, and we all have our specialities.
Big Jim Thompson usually brings grenade launchers. The tubes are delicious, once you get the thick skin off, and they taste like giant hearts of palm. They have that kind of stringy, savory quality to them too, and Jim’s wife makes a killer salad with them. The grenades, which grow in knobby bunches at the base of the launcher tree, are quite hard and bitter, but Jim crushes them with a special machine he designed and makes a very tasty IPA out of the juice and his bullet hops. We always drink the beer he made the year before.
Susan James’ bayonet home fries are a particular favorite of mine. She dices the thin, silvery fronds and cooks them in a big iron skillet- the same one she uses every year. Susan jokes that she’s never washed the thing, and I’m never sure if she’s telling the truth or not. When the home fries or ready it looks like somebody’s diced a bunch of nickels and tossed them in salt and pepper. They taste a lot like normal home fries, but with a bit of extra tang to them, like she soaked them in water from a mineral hot springs first.
Everyone loves AK-on-the-cob, and since it’s such a ubiquitos crop, we usually have a competition, judged by the children. They sit at a special table and wear the traditional bib (emblazoned with an AK dripping sauce off its trigger guard) and we make a big deal out of blindfolding them all before the competition starts. Last year Ajax’s five-year-old Phillip had us all in stitches- he’d been watching a lot of cooking shows and kept calling out things like ‘Too much bloody lemon!’. Even though I’ grown up now, I still have a particular fondness for AK-on-the-cob.
My traditional offering for the feast isn’t a commercial crop, since I can’t seem to grow it at scale. My Walther PPK’s only get about knee-high, and they’re as demanding as princesses. Not enough light, too much light, high acidity in the soil or even a few weeks of stiff breezes ruffling their jet-black leaves, and the whole crop is ruined. By now, though, I’ve got things more or less down, and people always compliment me on the PPKs. I eat them raw, and even after all these years of doing it, they can still make sweat break out on my forehead after one single bite. Their skin snaps like a jazz singer and each seed in the magazine is powerful enough to make a grown man cry. I usually make them into guacamole, but I also sell a jelly that’s very popular.
My wife, of course, makes the mini gun tacos to put the guacamole on.
| 2017-11-11T16:54:25 | 2017-11-11T16:42:15 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] A stunned nation watches as images of the President's assassination flood the news. The killer has yet to be identified, but witnesses claim to have seen someone in a gray hoodie. You go home early, only to find your SO disassembling a high-power rifle in the kitchen... wearing a gray hoodie.
"....Do you trust me?"
----------
Also, for the sake of compatibility, "President" is interchangeable with whatever world leader makes the most sense given your location/sentiments. | **Part One**
______________________________________________________________________________________________
I was supposed to prevent his death.
I had failed.
These past two months searching for the man who would assassinate the President of the United States, and all along I should've been looking for a woman.
A woman that was sitting in my bedroom.
A woman that meant more to me than anything in the world.
"...Do you trust me?"
The high powered rifle now fully taken apart and put in its case.
My hand slowly reached for the Glock in my holster.
"Don't do this, babe", she calmly said.
Her hand on a silenced USP.
All along I had searched far and wide for the killer of the Prime Minister, the Commissioner, and the arms dealer.
All along they were closer to me than I could've imagined.
"The business trips, they weren't actually for the law firm were they."
"No." she said choking back a tear.
"And those times you visited me at the Bureau, they weren't just to say hi."
A pause.
"No" she said again.
Her posture had stiffened up, her hand now holding the USP.
Several more tears fell down her face.
We both knew what had to happen next.
I pulled out the Glock.
She fired.
3 rounds hit me square in the chest, toppling me onto the floor.
The Glock now out of my hand.
Silence pierced the air, as quickly as the rounds had.
She walked over to me, bent down and gave me a kiss.
"Stay still." she mouthed.
As she opened the door and walked down the hall, a glint dissipated off the corner of my eye.
She knew I was wearing kevlar.
Someone was watching us.
________________________________________________________________________
**Part Two**
________________________________________________________________________
"Stay still" she had mouthed.
Time had passed.
Now alone in the room, a commotion erupted outside.
I tore off the now broken kevlar, picked up my Glock, and leapt out the door.
Running through our apartment building's halls, the noise level grew to a crescendo.
As the noise increased, so did my pace.
I no longer cared about the case. I no longer cared about the details.
I just wanted answers.
As I rammed open the lobby doors, part of me wished that I hadn't gone home early today.
All hell had broken loose.
People swarmed the streets, smoke filling the air.
Off to the corner of my eye, I spotted a glint of her auburn hair.
I shoved my way through the crowds.
I needed to get to her.
Sirens wailed through the screams.
I pushed towards the source of the smoke.
My vision deteriorated, the smoke stinging my eyes.
I kept running.
Gunshots rung through the air.
I reached for my Glock.
I opened my eyes.
I had reached a clearing in the smoke.
And there she lay.
A man towering over her, a .45 Colt in his hands.
I fired a round into his chest, knocking him back.
I kept firing.
The magazine now empty, the man lay motionless on the ground.
I lowered myself towards her and rested her head on my arm.
Two bullets had pierced her chest, her hand filling with her own blood.
"...Do you trust me?", she had said.
A tear streamed down my face.
Her mouth gasping for air amongst the blood, her eyes fixated on me.
All time had stood still.
I could no longer hear the wailing sirens, or the terrified mobs.
All I could hear were the echoes of her voice in my head.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Edit: Whoa, this blew up while I was out. Also, thanks for the gold!
Edit 2: After such a positive response I appended a second part onto the story. Thank you guys for the support!
| "So, honey, what did you do on your day off today?"
"I, uh, went down to the shooting range. Why?"
I should have stopped questioning my wife there, but the curiosity was too much. "It's just that, you know, with the President shot right in town. And you, with the gray hoodie, and the rifle."
She spun around, grabbed me by the collar, and looked me straight in the eyes. "Are you accusing me? You think that I am some psycho who would do something like that? I went down to the shooting range, and THAT'S IT. End of story. Do you trust me?"
"Yes," I said, but my mind thought differently.
For the next few hours we sat watching TV in silence. Every time a news alert would come on about the President, she would change the channel with a look of anger on my wife's face. One time, I got up to go to the bathroom, and I walked out to find a pistol pointed at my face.
"Did you call anyone while you were in there?"
"No! What the hell is wrong with you, my phone is on the couch! Get that thing out of my face!"
She lowered the gun and told me that she had made dinner. I walked to the kitchen and found two hot pockets on either side of the table. Next to her plate was the rifle; next to mine was the pistol. "Just in case," she said.
The second I touched my food, I heard the sirens. Suddenly there was a swarm of police cars, SWAT vans, and every government agency I could name outside our door. "COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP" I heard blaring through a megaphone.
She shot up, rifle in hand. I sat there in shock before she pulled me up to my feet and handed me the pistol.
"We go out together, husband and wife, got it?"
I was at a loss for words.
"GOT IT?"
"Yes, yes, together."
"Okay then, on my count. One,"
I weighed my options.
"Two"
She was my wife, even if she was a bit crazy.
"Three!"
This wasn't the woman I married.
I heard a blast and looked over to see the lifeless body of my beloved falling to the floor. I dropped my pistol to the ground, and took one last look at her body. I walked over to the door and opened it. I was blinded by the light, and put my hands over my head as I was taken by armed policemen.
"Til' death do us part." | 2014-07-12T10:09:08 | 2014-07-12T10:01:24 | 453 | 36 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | The human smiled playfully. "So if I understand you correctly. You will give us this FTL technology in exchange for our aid. All you ask of us is to cleanse your world of this Ashvell species, and remove this substance from your waters?"
"That is all," I said with a hoarse voice. We hadn't done much research on these creatures. All we knew was that they had yet to fly further than their own moon and that they may be our salvation. I stepped back as the human walked by me. He walked carelessly, holding the vial that contained the substance that could destroy my species.
Water. Yes, we thought it was water. The clear liquid that granted our planet the ability to sustain life. The Ashvell gave it to us as a simple offering, one of peace and prosperity. We had no reason to suspect the Ashvell of foul play. Would you? We had been on neighboring planets for thousands of years.
Cast Ozon had started to puke green bile moments after he had swallowed the substance. His elongated neck had melted within mere seconds. Our dear leader had died whilst still holding onto the glass. Before anyone had been able to react, the Ashvell had started their offense. Enormous cannons had sprayed our lands, our homes and our people with the poisonous substance. We thought it was merely water. The Ashvell knew it was not.
"You should not keep this substance in an unprotected vial," I said. Humans in white coats eyed me as I followed the human leader up a flight of stairs.
We entered what I assumed to be a living space. Why else would there be a sleeping platform in the center of the room? The human sat down and placed his legs on the sleeping platform, leaning backwards.
"What is your answer? We haven't much time! The Ashvell kill our younglings by the hundreds for every second I do not return."
"Has the United Nations made a decision?" The human spoke to the mirrored wall on the other side of room.
A face appeared on the wall. The human in the wall cocked an eyebrow. His gaze lingered on me. "You say that this liquid is poisonous to your species?"
A shiver ran down my spine. "Yes, it is. None of the species in our solar system are able to survive direct contact with this substance. We beg of you, please save us."
"And simply attaching the technology you wish to donate to us will enable faster than light travel for the vehicle it is applied to?"
"Yes."
The face disappeared and I could once again see my own reflection in the mirror. I turned to the human beside me. He was sniffing the substance, twirling the vial around as he did.
Then he drank it.
I stood there in disbelief. The human drank the most poisonous substance known to my people. I jumped back, afraid that his body would explode. A mere drop still in his throat could splash out at any second. A mere drop was enough to kill me outright.
Nothing happened.
The human smacked his lips and winked at me. "Twelve percent."
Behind me, I heard the oh so familiar booming of FTL-engines. The humans had accepted our offer. | They had a moral code. A set of rules written in stone that they were bound to follow. Somehow though they were able to ignore it and not really care. They understood that they should live in a sustainable fashion. They even celebrated those among them who did. They just as a species didn't. They lived much like the viruses that existed on their worlds. They couldn't help their host they were only capable of using all the resources in a star system and finding a new one.
But what really set them apart was their hate. Their hate. For every 10 star systems they colonized they would turn 3 to dust. The only thing they hated more then themselves was everything else. I suspect it came from their short life spans. By the time their planet had circled their star 100 times nearly all of them would be gone. It made them efficient. Brutally efficent. They didn't worry about losing their life as it would be over soon anyways. Sacrificing themselves to snuff out the lives of others wasn't hard for them. They didn't naturally defend themselves. They believed the best defense was an aggressive offense. Make your enemy too afraid to even think of attacking you. They hadn't even developed a plasma shield. Which works since their photon weapons would destroy even a Phoenix Shield. The asymmetry of their technology was mind blowing. They still had to use worm holes to travel between systems, hadn't even discovered warp. But they had pulsar weapons.
The first encounter they had with The Collective they discovered the same problem we did. The Wave Shield. In 10 generations we were never able to find a solution to this shield. Before their planet had circled itself 8 times they solved it. They didn't even understand 0.1% of the physics of the shield but they destroyed it. That was their strength. They didn't view this as a science problem. They thought of it as a how do we destroy everything problem. Rather then try to solve the physics of the shield they solved the physics of destruction... always their speciality. | 2014-12-26T12:23:02 | 2014-12-26T11:25:21 | 70 | 24 |
[WP] After too many ridiculous and lengthy lawsuits dominate the world's courts, the world leaders decided to pass a law to remove all warning labels. The Darwin Act has just been passed. | Sarah Miller, exhausted from a double shift, put her green blouse into the washing machine. She poured her Clorox Bleach in and washed the garment. 30 minutes later she mindlessly threw the blouse into the dryer and set it for 50 minutes. Sarah promptly fell asleep, looking forward to her job interview for the next day. When she awoke 9 hours later, she was frantic as she knew she was going to be late for her job interview at the High Powered Business Person’s Business. She grabbed the blouse, the faint light barely spilling in from her cracked apartment windows and began to iron. The shirt exploded, engulfing her in flames. The flames quickly spread to the rest of her apartment building. 45 innocents perished because the tag that read “Do Not Bleach, Do not Machine Dry, Do Not Iron” was not on her brand new blouse.
Jonathan Sqiggles had just laid down in his bed, ready to enjoy his brand new mattress. He had gotten the mattress from Steve’s Wholesale Bedding just down the street only today. But what he didn’t know, because the label was removed, was that Steve’s Wholesale Bedding had gotten the mattress from a factory in Columbus, Ohio that had used other dirty recycled mattress to make this new mattress. The bedbug attack was so fierce and unexpected that within 20 minutes only a skeleton remained of Mr. Sqiggles.
Muldoon looked in his side view mirror and saw the T rex’s jaws gaping. However, the view in the mirror showed the dinosaur much further behind him than he had thought. He knew that they were safe, despite the screaming of Dr. Malcolm. No one listened to Malcolm and his chaos theory because he was an insufferable bore and know it all. Muldoon breathed a sigh of relief and slowed the jeep down. It wasn’t until Ellie was snatched from the passenger seat of the jeep that he realized objects in the mirror may be closer than they appear. The T-rex soon ate them all. Dr. Grant, upon learning of Ellie’s death but not caring about Malcolm's, became despondent and allowed himself to be eaten as well. The dinosaurs escaped the island and invaded the mainland. No one was prepared because no one even knew that dinosaurs existed once again. New York became a dinosaur buffet.
Tommy Jenkins leaned his back against the wall at the chemical plant. He removed his hard hat and began to think of Linda waiting for him back home. He was lost in his thoughts when he brought his lighter to his mouth, getting ready to inhale that first cigarette after a long shift. He did, then the plant exploded, releasing benzene over half of Dallas County. Half a million people either died or suffered permanent damage due to the chemical cloud. The act was incorrectly labeled a terrorist attack perpetrated by North Korea and international tensions rose.
Jin Soo, a South Korean badass, finished welding the surplus jet engine onto the top of his used Volkswagen Beetle. He downed his beer, a Natural Light that a Texan sent him, and got into his car. When he was ready, he smiled at the small gathering of friends around him and uttered the last words anyone would ever hear him say: “Let’s light this candle!” His friends were standing too close behind the jet engine and quickly caught fire. The little car took off and soon found itself airborne without any way to control it. North Korea, mistaking the car for a missile attack, fired its own missiles. However, the guidance systems were so bad, probably made at a mattress company in Columbus, Ohio, that they quickly veered off course. The dear leader was right, they had been able to make missiles that could reach any continent in the world. 45 nuclear missiles landed in Antarctica and the polar ice cap was obliterated. Within a year there was no more land for people to live on. In the beginning, billions had died holding onto children’s inflatable beach balls not realizing that they were not flotation devices.
A new society would eventually arise, leading watery nomadic lives. They would have many years of trials and tribulations until a brave man by the name of Kevin Costner grew gills and saved the last of humanity by leading them to the only land left on the planet.
Author's Edit: Just wanted to drop in and say a quick thank you to all the people who have read this story. The comments have been making me laugh all morning. I love the debate about when to wash new clothes. | I stretch my back as I stand from my $29 discount deluxe computer chair. The backs tattered slightly from years of use, and the wheels have gotten bits of carpet caught in them. I yawn, walk away from my cubical and through the hallways. Xerox machines, photocopiers, printers, and water coolers litter the sides like a boring Hansel and Gretel story.
I walk into the lunch room to see Patricia. She's a nice woman, I suppose. The sides of her mouth have a permanent tobacco stain, and her faux fingernails don't fit quite right.
"Oh hello darlin'," She says out to me, opening the fridge door.
"Hey," I say with a small smile. "How ya going?"
"Yeah good love, just gettin' my juice." Patricia pulls a small juice box out from the fridge and starts to walk past me. I let her go, and a waft of something bitter rubs up my nostrils.
"Oh god," I murmur to myself, swallowing a lump of vomit. I walk to one of the cabinets and rummage for something to eat. A couple of packets of Mi Goreng, dried fruit and Soup is all I notice.
Soup.
I like Soup.
I grab the can and a bowl and prepare to make my meal. I check the Can for any warning labels before I go on any further.
But... but they're aren't any there. What? There has to be a warning label; you can't just make something without one. I put the Soup down and grab a packet of Mi Goreng instead. I shake my head at the Soup and then look at the Mi Goreng for its warning label.
I get dizzy. My hands are shaking and sweating, and nausea is beginning to dance in my stomach. Sweat is building up under my eyelids, under my armpits, and deep within my shoes. I've never felt such fear before in my life. A part of me wishes for it never to end; to live in this kind of nausea ridden joy for the rest of my life. The other part wants to kill myself.
"I can do this," I grunt to myself through strained teeth. I grab the can of Soup and drag it across the counter to myself. I open the drawer, grab the can opener, and smash its vicious teeth into the cans supple flesh. I tear it open like it was paper, and feel the power surge through me. I push the bowl away, its body shattering on the ground. I laugh.
I place the metal can inside the microwave and set it to high, 1 minute. I start it and prepare. My stomach growls in anticipation of a meal well earned. Suddenly, the inside of the Microwave begins to spark. I take a step back and watch. The sparks grow rapidly, and a burst of fire erupts in the back. The screen shatters, and a few pieces scatter into the side of my face.
I crumble to the ground in pain. Blood is oozing out, and I can't see straight. I crawl towards the door, trying my best to cry out for help. I enter the hallway and turn left, but as soon as I do, my heart sinks in my chest.
Patricia lays dead on the ground. The straw from her juice box lodged in her eye socket, preventable if there was a warning label. I lift her lifeless head into my arms and scream in pain,
"Why!"
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Check out /r/Rhysyjay for other neat stuff.
| 2017-03-23T22:37:31 | 2017-03-23T20:41:11 | 3,008 | 369 |
[WP] You die. There’s only darkness. After a few eternities alone, you jokingly say ”Let there be light”. And there was light. | After the light appeared, I decided it was much too bright.
"Let there be a dimmer switch!" I bellowed.
And so there was. It was a perfectly round dimmer switch. When I moved it to the right, the lights grew bright. When I moved it to the left, they grew dim. I was amused with the novelty of such a machination drifting through formless eternity with me. I may have dimmed and brightened the lights for hours before I again shouted into the infinity.
"Let there be mood lighting, so I may tune the lights of the infinite void to match the color of my various moods!"
A small panel appeared beneath the dimmer covered in emojis. I pushed the one made of a smiling pile of poo. The lights of infinity turned to a dim indigo. It was truly the perfect backdrop to a good late night constitution. I pushed the emoji with waterfalls of tears shooting from its eyes and the infinite void became a dim purple. It almost looked like velvet. It was missing something, though.
"Let there be a window!"
And so there was a window.
"Let it be raining with a dark gray overcast outside that window!"
And so there was rain, and so there was overcast, but, still, the scene was lacking. It had been so long since I have seen anything outside of nothing and heard anything outside of silence. All of this stimulation had me pondering my own existence. I was overstimulated by having access to barely anything. Having something - even as slight as mood lighting and rain - was a shock to my accepted way of being.
"Let there be calming chamomile tea!"
And so there was a mug in my hand. I took a sip. "Let there be a splash of honey," I whispered. And the next sip was perfectly slightly sweeter. Still, the scene was missing. I pondered for a minute.
"Let there be mood music!"
Elliott Smith's *Either/Or* started playing from the void. There were no visible speakers. I was starting to get the hang of being God.
"Let there be a soft comforter covered in various finches of assorted colors and a large sofa bed that is more comfortable than any other sofa bed!" And so it was.
I laid upon the bed, sipping my tea, listening to my sad music. A door appeared in the middle of the void and it opened. It was a simple, wooden door, and a bright white light was on the other side.
"It took you long enough," a booming voice said. "Most people figure it out after like a week. You took.... let me check my cosmic watch..... two thousand years. You must really hate yourself, huh, bud? That would explain the Elliott Smith. Shit, it only took him a year. What's wrong with you?"
I shrugged.
"Let there be a lock on that door!"
And so there was a lock.
"Let there be 90s *Outer Limits* playing on shuffle on a big boxy TV. Let the cabinets be stuffed with Oatmeal Cream Pies after I let there be cabinets. Let there be a shelf full of books I'll never read, and let there be Goodwill stickers on them in various states of peeling with several different prices."
There I sat, in that same position, with the exact same moment repeating itself into eternity. Much like floating in the void of nothingness, I became content. I even went into madness, but it was a comfortable madness. It was the sort of madness I could accept. I knew I had fallen too far into it to ever consider creating life. Nothing else should be cursed with such existential contentment. | Edison was a putz, I thought, grimacing. Thomas took credit for *so* much of my work. I'd spent the equivalent of several lifetimes here alone in the dark, stewing in my rage.
He had died twelve years before me, that I knew all too well. The papers heralded his death, mine not so much. Sure, a brief eulogy was given by the mayor of New York, and the FBI sniffed around my personal effects to ensure nothing was of interest to foreign powers. But did anyone cry out that I, Nikolai Tesla, was the genius of a generation? No. Instead, I died a pauper in the Hotel New Yorker.
I was fortunate enough, I suppose, to see those last moments after I'd passed before my world finally went dark.
At first, I found the darkness peaceful, like my beloved pigeons I used to feed in Bryant Park. Over time, it left me far too alone with my thoughts and my hatred of Thomas Alva Edison. I wished for light.
In final agony, I cried out, ”Let there be light!”
And there it was. Light. And then HE started laughing. Edison, not God, as I'm an agnostic after all. And even if there is a God, I'm not sure I'm that high up on his priority list.
”Hey, Niko! Good to see you! I've been lonely! Fancy inventing something together for old time’s sake? I thought the light might help a little.” Edison asked, laughing.
I never did get that American humor of his, but you know what? I'm bored, so why the hell not?
”Sure, Tom, let's do it.” I said, more interested in anything, than I'd been for a while.
”Excellent! We will be working with DC vs AC, ok?” Tom giggled.
”You bastard!” I fumed.
---
Epilogue:
---
And so, Thomas and Nikolai built their first invention together in the afterlife. Try as they might, they just couldn't get sufficient power.
In desperation, Thomas shouted, ”Let there be power!”
A loud, trumpeting sound echoed, shaking the very walls. Thunderous footsteps followed, accompanied by the fainter sounds of a carousel.
”What on Earth?!?” Thomas exclaimed, as a great shadow, covered the entire room.
So you want power, Thomas? Topsy laughed maniacally. I'll give you power!!!
As Thomas’ body convulsed, a large and very beautiful, white pigeon flew Nikolai to safety.
---
Note: special thanks to u/vortex618 for bringing up poor Topsy the elephant in the comments. Thought I'd give her a nice ending too. :) | 2020-09-04T20:12:58 | 2020-09-04T19:24:35 | 152 | 94 |
[WP] The Fairy hesitated. She knew tradition demanded that she curse the new born princess for not being invited to the christening, but it wasn't her fault the messenger fell off his horse. She decided to get creative with the wording. | "Did you not get the evite?" The king stood agape, standing half in front of the queen, who held the babe in her arms. The knights of the realm brought their rifles to the shoulders, awaiting the king's orders.
"Yes, though it was in my spam folder. But the ancient rites are clear on the proper appearance of the invitation," said the Fairy. "Calligraphy with cord-blood on vellum is the only acceptable form. My hands are tied here."
"We sent the proper invitation," the king insisted. "I promise. My best horseman carried it himself."
"Oh, I am aware. I found the body. The floods this year took out the bridge across the Fell River. It seems your best horseman tried to ford it. No invitation to be found, unfortunately. For future reference, your knights' horsemanship has really gone downhill the last hundred years. You might want to consider a helicopter next time. The ancient rites don't actually specify a horse-based delivery system."
The queen pushed in front of the king and sank to her knees in front of the Fairy. She held the babe to her breast as she pleaded with the ancient sorceress. "Please, my lady, spare my child from your curse. My family has supported you for centuries. Ask whatever boon or gift you desire and it shall be yours."
The Fairy sighed. Their hearts were in the right place, but she had no choice in the matter. If she didn't place a curse on the child, it would just end up dying. She raised her hands to the sky. "Stay your begging. The old treaty will be upheld. I will lay a curse upon this child."
The king gestured to his knights, who moved to surround the Fairy. With a flick of her wrists, their rifles flew from their hands. "Be still, king. Your anti-magic bullets would do nothing to me."
She reached down and took the child from the limp grasp of the queen. "Many times in this kingdom's history has a boon or curse been laid upon the royal child. The tradition shall not end here. I shall bow to tradition and bestow upon you the same devastating curse that was given to Princess Julia the Fair a thousand years ago."
The Fairy's eyes glowed, casting a red glare across the room. A mist formed in the room as she spoke her dark curse. "Princess Fair, I curse you. You shall not marry until you are a spinster of twenty-five. You shall bear only a pair of children. Any garment that you sew shall become coarse and ill-fitting. All your embroidery work shall unravel. Your poetry shall bring naught but tears to the eyes of those that hear it. You shall never learn to play the harp."
When the mist cleared, the Fairy was gone, though a faint echo of her voice could be heard. "Remember to invite me to her first birthday..."
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] | There. The magic was done. Now to deal with the doddering old coot in the corner.
"What did you do!?" the old wizard spat. It was tradition, he'd said that twice before, with the current King and his younger sister. Not that he realised that she was the same as back then. "What curse did you lay on her, *faerie*?"
Olette gestured, and the man winced in pain as three lashes stung the lining of his stomach from the inside. "For breaking the pact of yore, I cursed her like none before. Forever will she have true sight, and speak her mind, no matter her plight." She advanced on the man, taller than she was even bound and trussed. "As for you, dimwit neophyte, beware the full moon, lest you ignite."
She knocked the man out cold, placing one final spell on him for her amusement: a continuous scry so she would know when he died from her gift, and then, she left.
Four moons later, the fool wizard looked at the full moon and promptly burst into flame. Olette had warned him.
Forty moons later, news reached her ears of attempted regicide, stopped, according to outlandish rumours, by the youngest princess, who had apparently seen the weapons before anyone else.
Two-hundred and forty moons later, Olette, Queen of Fae, returned to the room she had left. It had changed, naturally, but her magic still stood out; chestnut and hazel in a room of stone and mortar. And lying in a luxurious bed was the princess, who awoke at a whispered spell.
The curse held strong, but there was one it would never work on. Its caster. And so, the Queen was unsurprised when it both did and did not work. "You are not naked. Why are you not naked?" | 2021-11-08T10:22:03 | 2021-11-08T10:16:39 | 739 | 75 |
[WP] From the point of view of dogs, humans are like elves, benvolent beings with incredibly long lives enjoying pastimes too intricate and complex to understand. | Pale, tall, strangely hairless, with hard flashing eyes and sharp tongues... they are the elder race, privy to the arcane secrets and mysteries of the universe.
And they have accepted a chosen few of us into their pack.
When they arrived, most packs saw them as prey. They were soft, they lacked tooth and claw and the protection of fur. Tall, yes, but not fearsome like the bear or the aurochs, nor the great cats or mammoths. Some worried that they travelled in groups, like a pack, but others were convinced that they were merely small herds. But as we found their scents deeper and deeper in our range, something happened. The packs that saw them as prey... disappeared. We would find a lone cub, from time to time, terrorized, frantic and touched. A mere whiff of the elders' scent would drive these poor survivors into mewling, craven despair. And then something strange happened.
My first season as a grown wolf - still small, but no longer a pup - was a dry season, and food was scarce. I was sent to scout for prey, and found the pack of elders in a narrow valley, where a river of sweet water flowed toward the salty sea. I was hungry, and my pack was waiting for me to come back. I smelled that scent, the one that wakes fear in any wise beast, the smell of fire. It was frightening, a thing no wolf would wish to risk venturing near, The pack leaders had taught us to flee this scent, but hunger gnawed at me, and I feared the pups would die unless we found food. And the only time I had encountered it before was in the blackened remnants of an abandoned elders' camp, where scraps of food had been left behind. There were few of them - one for each paw and one for the mouth - and my pack numbered more than a full paw's claws for each of them. There was a worrying scent, though. Another pack? But no, too few, and not right. But hunger drove me to desperation. I loped back to my pack.
We spread out into the valley, surrounding their pack, careful to avoid the gap where wind flowed down the cliffs, creeping closer... and then a wolf began to howl. It was not one of our pack, and I froze, panic gripping me. The pack leader, though, was a hoary old wolf, and fear had never bloomed in his breast. He, and a paw of paws of hunters, all of the fiercest of the pack, burst out of their shadows, rushing toward the scents and sounds of the elders. And then there was shouting, and the sound of falling branches, and something like the sound of an aurochs goring a wolf that carelessly came too close to its horns, and falling rocks, and the whine of a wounded wolf, and another, and painful howling, and ... silence. The scent of blood - some from those where were not, in fact, prey, but mostly the blood of my pack. I cowered in the shadow of the rock I had been skulking around. The only sounds remaining of my pack were the terrified breaths of the few nursing mothers who had charge of the cubs, the mewling of the two paws of cubs, and me. And flickering lights, and the smell of fire, moved around the darkness, surrounding us. Death approached.
But the elders, while cruel and deadly in their nature, are not without mercy. Rather than death, they approached with... food? And a pair of strange wolves, as fey as the elders themselves, who sniffed at me. The elder placed the food in front of me, and backed away. I wanted to curl up and hide, but hunger got the better of me, and I ate. The sweetness of that meat - meat of some beast, I know not even what, but it was the best I had ever tasted. And then I saw the mothers, and the cubs, being fed as well. Except for the bitch with the white patch between her eyes. Because when she was offered food, she instead tried to lunge at the elder who offered it... and the elder reached out, and what looked like a branch, straight and narrow, appeared, between the elder and the bitch, and the bitch yelped, and went stiff, and died. Cruel, and deadly. But not without mercy.
I don't know why I didn't flee in the night. Perhaps it was because the cubs were too many for the remaining mothers to keep, and I felt obligated to stay to do what I could. Perhaps it was the prospect of being another fear-touched lone wolf. I stayed, though I expected that I would be killed the next day. Instead I was, again, fed. And the next day, and the next. When the elders decided to move their camp, they called to me, and to the mothers, and waved food at us, to entice us to follow. And follow we did, no different from the fey wolves who had called the warning at my pack's approach.
It has been many seasons, and I still serve the elders. I hunt with their pack, and they call the hunt, They seem not to have aged, but I am an old wolf, and can barely run. They should cull me, I am a liability to the pack. Instead, they call me, caress me, hold me close, feed me, even carry me when I cannot manage to keep up. I do not understand them. They are cruel, and kind, and wise beyond measure, and they are my pack. My pups, and my pups pups, play with their children, hunt with their hunters, guard their camp. I can know no greater loyalty than to serve these wise beings. And when my last breath sighs out, my descendants will carry on this debt of loyalty. Forever. I was a wolf, but my legacy will be... something else. | When the world first came into view, her face was the first I saw. Not my mom's, not my brother's, but *hers*. Eyes filled with love and excitement and joy- oh, the *joy*. Raucous laughter and squeals of delight as I struggled to find the strength to lift myself.
I didn't have to.
She lifted me with ease, wrapping her fingers delicately around my belly as though being careful not to harm me. She pulled me into her chest and I heard a thumping on the other side; whatever it was, it was warm. I was calmed as though by some kind of magic, and as I would come to know her I would discover that the magic never stopped with these beings.
It wasn't very long before I could move around on my own, and from the moment I was able I stayed near her at all times. I didn't know what she was, but from the very start she knew what *I* was. She knew just the spot to scratch behind my ear, the favorite place I liked to be rubbed under my tummy, and exactly all of my favorite things to do and eat. One by one she would introduce my next new favorite thing to me. Bacon, the park, strangers, and as I grew so too did she.
Eventually she began spending most of her time staring at a colorful window on her desk. She would stare out her window and I would stare out mine. There were no squirrels in her window, no cars, no trees. Although I had known her all of my life, I would never truly understand what she saw through that window. And although I couldn't fathom what she truly was, I knew that I loved her. Her smell, her voice, her nails- good *god*, those nails.
As she grew, her interests changed and it was noticeable that she spent more and more of her time away from home. I liked laying on the pile of clothes that smelled like her on top of her bed. They comforted me in her absence. I found myself sleeping more. Waiting more. Eating more. The others like her would sometimes stop what they were doing to keep me company, but they just didn't compare. The fleeting moments I'd see her were the happiest, and the highlight of each day.
But they were few and far between.
And growing fewer.
It was only tolerable until one day I found myself unable to get onto the bed with ease anymore. I couldn't lay where it was comfortable. I couldn't smell her as easily, and I couldn't stare out the window from on the floor.
All it took was her coming home once. She placed a small step by the bed so I could climb up on my own again, she scratched behind my ears, blew raspberries into my tummy and fed me my favorite snack.
Although the visits were few and far between, they were worth living for and she reminded me of that every time she returned.
... Except for this time.
There was one place that I despised above all others: The Vet.
These people were the opposite of her. They held me firmly, poked at me with needles, and touched me in all the wrong places. I wasn't violent, but there was nobody more worthy to show my fangs to- to let them know I meant *business*.
And although I'd been here several times before, this time was different. They didn't poke me. They didn't touch me forcefully. They simply spoke- and although I knew little about their lexicon, I came to understand over the years that they sounded different when they were angry. When they were happy. When they were excited.
And I had never heard the people at the vet speak sadly.
They made her cry- and it was the only thing that made me feel more miserable than being at the vet.
Her tears. Her anguish.
There was no person in life who deserved more happiness than her.
And although I couldn't see her very well anymore, I could hear her perfectly. I could feel her sorrow. Her tears fell gently on my side as she stood over me on the table.
She threw her arms around me and laid on me.
I didn't know what was happening.
I wished I could help.
I wished more than anything I'd ever wished for that I could just help.
I would trade away every treat.
Every walk in the park.
Every new toy.
I would trade it all away if I could somehow soothe her the way I used to when I was young.
They poked me, but I couldn't fight it.
I couldn't lift myself from the table.
But I didn't have to.
She lifted me up as she always had.
I closed my eyes.
And enjoyed her warmth.
- - -
If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos <3 | 2021-06-25T13:54:14 | 2021-06-25T12:35:36 | 2,077 | 938 |
[WP] A barber recognizes his current customer to be a man who tortured him ten years earlier at a POW camp. The customer doesn't recognize him. | "What can I do for you, bud?" It was a calm day in the shop, the sun was shining in and the customers were just flowing.
The man smiled, "Just give me a buzz cut, nothing fancy."
I started to say something but my heart had jumped. That voice, I knew it, I recognized it. My arm shook and I rubbed my hand where it had been shoved into boiling water. I felt the water again, water everywhere, my lungs grasping for breath as I grasped for control.
I blinked.
"Sure, um, just sit down right here, I can, uh, take care of you in about a minute." My mind was racing, where did I know him? Why did that voice make me jump? But then it all came back to me. As the sun beat in through the windows, I was back in that dark room where I had been shoved underwater, where I had been burned alive, the room where as he screamed his questions I had died and rose a changed man.
I could feel my inner demons moving. I started to cut his hair. My fingers twitched, I wanted to feel those scissors in his neck and his blood on my hands.
I shook again, this time knocking the razor against his head. "Sorry sir"
My heart was a battlefield between the man in that cell and the man I am today. I had come back changed, but I had changed again. I had a family now, a wife, two beautiful boys at home.
The light shone into my eyes again. I felt a pain in my hands and my feet. I finished up his cut.
He smiled at me as he paid, oblivious, and asked, "What's your name, I just moved into town and I think I found my new barber."
I cringed a bit on the inside. "The name's Joshua"
He smiled, "Well here's a couple dollars tip Joshua, you earned it."
"I'm sorry, I can't take your money." My face was made of stone, it was covered in sorrow like a dog cowering in the corner, hiding from its aggressive master.
He sighed jokingly and grinned that same happy grin as if nothing had ever happened, as if he wasn't a monster, as if he hadn't killed my soul there! He winked and placed those few dollars on the counter anyways and started to walk away.
I fought to keep away the tears. I was a blur of memories. He killed the old me, but without that I wouldn't be the man I am today. He killed me, he tore me down, broke my spirit, he found out everything he wanted to know, and 300 men had died that day because of what I said. 300 men died but I eventually met my wife, had two kids, and am "happy". I still can't sleep well at night. But I'm trying to do my best.
So as he walked out the door a tear fell from my eye.
And I said, "I forgive you."
He walked on, he hadn't noticed. But I didn't say it for him, I said it for myself. | The distinct *ding* of the bell above the door sounded as a man dressed immaculately in a suit walked confidently into my shop, phone to his ear.
"Good afternoon, just a trim and a shave." The man said, with a heavy accent. Then he resumed his call as he walked over to the chair. "(*Yes, yes, tell Ahmad that he needs to go to prayer.*)^1"
As the man sat down, I had the slightest inkling that I've seen this man before. Perhaps I'm just mistaken. I *was* on duty in Afghanistan for a few years back, so I'm probably just confused or paranoid.
"How are you doing today?" I asked, as I started going through his head with the scissors, trimming the hair to perfection.
The man slid his phone into his pocket. "Well, my friend, well." He spoke in that heavy accent, which was all too familiar. "What about you? Doing well today?"
"Yes, the shop has been a little slow, otherwise it has been fine." I smiled a small smile, as I grabbed the razor and started to work on his beard.
"Good. Your skills with the blade is immaculate. Have you been doing this your entire life?"
His eyes shifted to my eyes in the mirror. Our eyes locked. "I'm flattered, but..." Then I was hit with a sudden realization.
"But?" The Arabic male raised an eyebrow in question.
I was speechless. This man was the man that tortured me when I was on tour. That day I had been concussed and knocked out by a grenade and was dragged to a POW camp. That day was the day this man gave me this permanent limp.
The blade falls out of my trembling hands.
"Are you alright, sir?" The man half stood up, half turning to look at me, a puzzled look on his face.
"G-get away... GET AWAY FROM ME!" I shouted, backing into the corner of my shop. I buried my face into my arms, sobbing.
Ten years ago, I left behind the nightmares. Now my greatest nightmare has come back.
^1 : Spoken in Arabic. | 2014-04-29T09:29:00 | 2014-04-29T08:58:34 | 319 | 16 |
[WP] You’re a dragon who kidnapped a prince/princess. All is going to plan but… it’s been a month and no one’s come to save them. | Dragons, by their very existence, were the kind of entities for whom awe and terror seemed intrinsically mixed. Wyverns were all well and good, but they were small, barely larger than a house. Wyrms? The flightless lizards could barely lift their heads to gaze upon the glory of a fully grown Drakon. The others were animals. Magnificent animals, but beasts all the same.
A dragon was different. Ancalagon the Black could crush citadels under heel, wrath in his lidless gaze. Typhon the Hunter was swift; no man had ever seen her and lived. From each beat of her terrible wings a hurricane sprung, which had a bad habit of devastating anything close enough to lay eyes on her.
Yet among them, Tiamat, Mother of the Brood, was the greatest. Her onyx scales were said to heal the gravest of wounds, for within their glittering facets constellations would shine. Her breath was the primeval fire; pillars of force that could raze the earth itself. Even the gods were wary to try her, such was the age and power of Mummu-Tiamat, first and eldest.
&#x200B;
\-and she was very, very unhappy.
&#x200B;
*What do you mean ‘they’re not coming!’* She roared, and poor Faye had to clasp her ears against the sound, squeezing her eyes shut as if to block out the echoes.
The dragon had so far been nothing but cordial. Her theft had been a monumental affair, but Mother Tiamat had borne her with surprising grace, setting her down gently upon the stone. From the cavern mouth, some hundreds of feet into the air, she could spy the kingdom of Doriath, but it would be impossible to go back. For one, she would have to climb down either barefoot or in the heels she had been taken in, and either was a ghastly thought.
When she looked up, Tiamat was pacing, agitated. “I’m sorry, mother-Tiamat, but they will not come for me.” Privately, Faye wondered how she would die. Eaten? No, she was too small. She barely came up to the ancient one’s toes. Crushed was far more likely, even if by accident.
\-but this was Mummu Tiamat, she did nothing by accident.
Right?
&#x200B;
*Why would they not come? You are the princess, yes?*
“Yes.”
*-and you are next in line for the throne of Doriath, since your brothers were tragically eaten.*
“By one of your brood, yes. Not a disrespect, Mother-Tiamat, just an observation.”
&#x200B;
Tiamat’s leviathan head swept around. Her pupils alone were the size of a house, and so it was unclear if the drake was looking at Faye specifically, or at something in her general direction. It was, after all, a very big cave for a very big dragon.
*Explain then, Faye, Daughter of Farathir, Son of Farathrim. Have the towers of Doriath grown so cold as to abandon their young? When has cruelty slipped her knife between the ribs of compassion?*
Faye took a deep breath. She let it out.
“They have a new heir now, Mother Tiamat. I am…unnecessary.” Her voice held steady.
&#x200B;
The cavern shook.
&#x200B;
*Unnecessary!* Tiamat growled, her temper like lava against bulwarks of stone. *So that is why they have taken one of mine; to find a replacement for their sons?*
Her tale thrashed, and somewhere in the distance Faye thought she heard the tell-tale signs of an avalanche.
*What of their daughters, do they not think you capable?*
She shrugged. “I doubt it, Mother Tiamat. Patrilineal lines of succession rarely favour women.”
“Honestly, I was just there to attract suitors. Once my brothers were born I was deemed useless, and sent to Master Rudaban’s tower to study. It saved the Royal Court the cost of my lodging, anyway.”
The following silence was deafening.
&#x200B;
*So,* Tiamat began, and that her voice was deathly even sent fissions of worry down Faye's spine. *one of mine devoured your prince, who foolishly thought he could challenge the clutch of Tiamat and live.*
*Your wise men thought to balance the scales. So they came in the night like thieves-*
Twin-thin streams of flame shot out of her nose, melting the rock.
*-and ensorcelled one of my young with their magicks.*
&#x200B;
One terrifying, gleaming eye came to rest upon Faye, and there was no mistaking that Tiamat was looking at her now. *You are just collateral in this squabble. I took you, thinking to begin negotiations with your king, but he will let you go for the price of a Drakon-child.*
*Is that correct?*
&#x200B;
There was a pause.
&#x200B;
"Yes, that is correct." Ah, there was the tremor in her voice. Was it fear?
Tiamat smelt the air. No, not fear. *Grief.*
This little affair was rapidly turning into something...interesting. She cared not for men, bumbling oafs as they were, but this child. A swaddling-babe, if barely that. It had not passed her notice that the girl had not cried once. Not when she was taken. Not when she was brought to Tiamat's cave.
\-and so she came to a decision.
&#x200B;
*Then let them keep Mikralleor. If they are so foolish as to not recognize your worth, there is no doubt that they will not recognize his.*
She swept her wing out, easily the span of a city-wall. Yet despite its size, it grazed Faye feather-light, like a tender caress. Around them, the cavern began to glow, revealing towering facets of crystal. They cast a strange light upon Tiamat's face, for the look in her eyes was alien.
*You will stay with me, and be one of my brood.*
"But-!"
*Child, what has been done is not the natural order. Those that are living are not meant to be treated like the dead. Someone must rectify this. You shall live here, and I shall teach you what I know. Upon your adulthood, you may decide where your fortunes lie.*
*That is the cycle. Parents raise their children, and let them go. We dragons do not squander our gifts so, for each egg is of-us. They are precious.*
&#x200B;
Faye looked around. The cavern was indeed spacious. She could already see a private nook, high in the corner, where a bed could be. Maybe a bookshelf-?
"What of your son, though?" She asked. "Are you not worried of what they will do to him?"
Then Faye heard a sound she never could have imagined. Laughter. Belly-deep laughter, rumbling from Tiamat as she shook her head.
&#x200B;
*Child. Did you think I took you for worry of mine? Mikralleor is strong already; no weapon of man might kill him. If anything, I suspect he let himself be taken out of boredom.*
Tiamat tilted her head, where in the distance Doriath stood.
*No child. Soon he will find the city not to his tastes, and then he will do what children do best. He will throw a tantrum.*
&#x200B;
Faye then noticed, however faintly, trails of smoke starting to waft out from the city. Within minutes, a fire had started, quickly wrapping around the marble of Doriath's citadel and leaping from home to home.
All too soon, the proud walls of the Kingdom of Men began to crumble.
*I did not take you for my son's safety, Faye-who-was-of-Doriath,* Tiamat said.
&#x200B;
*I took you for theirs.* | Ruldrim found himself restless in his sixth century of age. The surrounding forests provided all the prey he could eat, the nearby towns paid him tribute, and he had amassed a respectable hoard in his lair. What he didn't have was a challenge. So, in a long-standing tradition, he decided to kidnap a princess and battle the bravest knight of the land for her.
He left his mountain and flew across the realm until he came upon a beautiful palace. As luck would have it, a bevy of maidens were having tea out in the garden. Ruldrim intended to observe from above to determine whether there was a princess among them, but upon spying a glint of gold on one of the maidens' necks, his instincts took over, and he swooped in and seized her.
She screamed and squirmed in his claws. "How dare you, beast! I am Princess Annabelle of the Istibore Kingdom, and I order you to put me down this instant!"
Ruldrim perked up at his great luck. "Hear me!" he roared at the guards rushing out of the palace. "If you want your precious princess back, come to my mountain and fight me!"
He rose to the skies and flew home, daydreaming about the great battle he was going to have. The princess in his claws kept screaming threats. Amusement rumbled in his chest. Her lot was to serve as the lure that drew the best warriors of the realm.
Arriving at his mountain, he glided into his lair and gingerly set the princess down. She stumbled a little, then promptly rounded on him and pounded his leg with her tiny fists.
"You ugly brute!" she cried. "My brothers will send the kingdom's army to rescue me, just you wait!"
"That will make for a worthwhile battle," Ruldrim said, pleased.
"I will order them to cut you apart and make a couch out of your hide! You..." She trailed off, staring at the lair's back. "Oh... Oh, my. Is that all gold?"
He chuckled. "Gold, silver, gems. Only the best in my hoard."
The princess hurried past him, sank her hands into a pile of gold coins, and let them spill from her fingers. When she glanced back at him, there was a calculating gleam in her eyes. A shudder went through Ruldrim's massive body, although he couldn't quite understand why.
Shaking off his unease, he curled up for a nap by the lair's mouth. Through his drooping eyes, he saw Annabelle rifle through his hoard, exclaiming at one treasure or another. At least she wasn't screaming anymore.
***
"You. Hey, you. Wake up, stupid beast!"
Ruldrim snorted out a puff of smoke and cracked open his eyes. During his brief respite, the princess had bedecked herself head to toe with dazzling bracelets, brooches, and rings. Her hands were planted on her hips, and she was glowering at him.
"I'm hungry," she declared.
"Very well," he said, rising to his haunches. "Will a deer suffice?"
"A *deer*?" she scoffed. "Do I look like some lowly woodsman? I want honey-glazed quail and mawmenee and sweetmeats."
He tilted his head. "Where do I hunt for this... mawmenee?"
She laughed condescendingly. "Silly beast. It is something you cook, in the kitchen."
"I'm a dragon," Ruldrim said. "I cannot cook."
"Then go to the nearest town and bring someone who can," she said, crossing her arms. "The commoners will do your bidding if you just toss them some gold."
"What's wrong with a nice juicy deer?" Ruldrim asked irritably. "Humans eat them too."
"No!" she cried, stomping her foot. "I don't want no stinking venison! I want peaches with cream and marzipan cakes!"
She looked up at him with upturned eyes and sniffled. Ruldrim stared back at her, nonplussed. Her face twisted, and covering her eyes with her hands, she broke into heaving sobs.
He shifted uneasily. The princess only cried louder. Her cheeks were flushed, and tears were trickling down her cheeks.
"Very well," he said grudgingly. "I shall find you a cook."
"Y-you will?" she asked, wiping at her eyes.
He sighed. "Yes, yes. Just cease this horrid wailing."
"Oh, thank you!" She gave him a watery smile. "Sorry I called you stupid. I'm sure you're doing your best."
Relieved by her change of mood, Ruldrim wheeled around and flew to the nearby town. Its denizens were used to seeing him, so his appearance didn't cause a panic, although it took some explaining before he found a stout middle-aged woman who agreed to cook for him in return for one gold coin a week. Ruldrim hated the expense, but it had to be done. It wasn't like Annabelle would stay for long.
The cook brought along an assortment of pans and did her best to prepare a meal upon a fire Ruldrim lit, serving it upon the golden dishes from his hoard. The princess griped about lack of tablecloths and candles, but polished off the meal and appeared content. For a brief moment, that is.
"Dragon," she said, snapping her fingers. "Attend me."
Ruldrim grumbled under his breath. "What now?"
"I'm tired."
"I too am weary. Let us rest until the knights come for you."
She heaved a sigh. "Must I spell out everything? It's all well and good for a beast like you to sleep on cold hard rock, but I need a bed."
He ground his teeth. "I shall bring you a bale of straw."
"I don't want no prickly straw! I want a silken bed—with curtains, so you won't ogle my beautiful skin!"
"Ogle your..." Ruldrim shook his head, stung by the absurd accusation. "You'll just have to make do without."
She sniffled, tears pooling in her eyes.
"I won't change my mind even if you cry."
That gave the princess pause. She tapped her foot, studying him with furrowed brows. "If I don't get a silken bed—why, I'll die before tomorrow!"
"*Die*?" he exclaimed. "Do humans die if they don't sleep in beds?" He glanced at the cook.
"Princesses do," Annabelle said with conviction. She glared at the cook, who swallowed and nodded.
"Curses," Ruldrim muttered. This princess kidnapping business was more complicated than he thought. "Well, I better visit the town again. Please don't die before I return."
The princess gave a long-suffering sigh. "I'll do my best."
The business at the town went smoother this time, and Annabelle got her bed as well as a promise from the carpenter to come by and build her more furniture. Ruldrim glanced ruefully at his hoard, then curled up and fell asleep to dream of knights in gleaming armor and glorious battle.
***
*Continued below* | 2022-11-24T15:04:35 | 2022-11-24T11:56:50 | 180 | 55 |
[WP] Lycanthropy is a real disease that perplexes everyone. One interesting fact about it is that it isn't restricted to wolf forms, but can extend to bear forms, bat forms, panther forms and a few others. The rarest of them all is dragon form, which you have been diagnosed with
Edit: Well this prompt exploded
Yay for me I hit 5000 karma... and it's going up still... | Dr. Montoya entered the room, clipboard in hand. "You're a were-dragon," he said bluntly.
I chuckled, "that's funny. You're funny, doc." He didn't laugh.
"No, it's actually quite serious," he said sternly, "I'd like to keep you for some tests." He was already sending word to his friends over email. "It may take a few days."
That's what the other doctors told me. Tests. More like experiments. They learned in the end that you can't contain a dragon...
Almost immediately he received a reply on his computer, and as he read it, his eyes began to bulge with terror. I can almost guarantee they are telling him to sedate me, that he should've when he first found out. They're telling him that he shouldn't have tried to get famous off of someone else's incredibly rare "misfortune." Lucky for me, I've learned to control the transformation, I no longer need to be in danger for the beast to come out. Now, I am the danger.
I stood as he finished reading his letter. I'm not sure if he knew what was going to happen in the next few seconds -- his last moments -- but he knew that i knew. The transformation is almost instant, the heat peels paint from the office walls. Without hesitation, i exhaled a fire of a thousand suns. The other patients were merely collateral damage. I was saving myself. I didn't care about the innocent. I cared about surviving.
As the building burnt to ash, I spread my wings and took flight in a random direction, hoping to find a new town. Again. Hoping to find a place where i can live in peace. Again. I'm not a wild animal, i need civilization and to be social. I just want the human experience without fear of someone coming for me.
...
Dr. Yam entered the room, clipboard in hand. "So, uh..." he paused, trying to find the words, "You're basically the healthiest person in town." He looked at me, unconvinced. "I mean, you have to already know. There's no way you don't." He almost sounded proud as he say in front of me. "How do you want you handle this?"
I was shocked, he didn't inform anyone. He was legitimately curious how i felt. "I think," i stammered, "i think I'm going to like you Dr. Yam."
(I HAVEN'T ACTUALLY WRITTEN IN 10 YEARS, BE KIND) also on mobile so sorry for lack of formatting. | (I'm new here. Haven't written much. Don't kill me.)
"What a waste of an existence" I muttered to myself, as I walked past the morning office goers in the Munich train station. People stuck in a rhythmic drag of work and home, with no direction in life but to survive. I pitied their mundane existence.
You see, I was different. Dragon-kin is what they called it in the stories. 'Once a month, he transforms, to his untamed form, a dragon. Overcome by feral rage, he plunders and he kills, leaving only death and destruction behind.'. Of course, the stories rarely tell the truth. They don't know the calmness that overcomes me when I transform. The enhanced senses, the sight of the moon reflected on the river as I fly above it, and the warmth that rises in me, fit enough to release a stream of fire that could melt rocks. But most of all they don't know of the feeling of invincibility I get, the feeling that I'm superior to any of these rats scurrying to their little holes, the feeling that keeps me sane. I could end them all, if I wanted. But I don't intend on doing it, not any time soon.
Instead, I shall fly to my hill. I shall watch the city from the distance. Observe it bustling with meaningless excitement. I shall roar into the night, sending fear into the hearts of every living being in my vicinity. And I shall rest easy, comforted by the fact that I am superior to any form of life in existence. | 2017-05-20T08:25:02 | 2017-05-20T06:14:36 | 153 | 19 |
[WP] "The Young Anakin, Trained, he will be." Yoda said. Obi-Wan exclaims, "The council is in agreement then? I will train the Boy?" Yoda looks at Obi-Wan, "Mace Windu, his master will be." | "It's good to see you again, Anakin. I'm glad you could visit. Would you like to see the Senate Hall?" Chancellor Palpatine smiled.
Master Windu's first rule was Observe. The second rule was Reflect. He had given permission to Anakin to visit the Chancellor on the condition that he observe and reflect, to take in more information than he gave out.
"Yes, sir. Will we get to ride on a delegation platform?" Anakin sought his inner calm while feeling the force around him. Master Windu had taught him this exercise when asking people questions. It helped give a better insight into their true answers and motivations.
"Of course, my young friend. You wish to see things from the seat of power. Who wouldn't? This way."
It was evident that the Chancellor valued power. The force in the room had intensified ever so slightly when he said the word 'power', but it felt like the Chancellor was trying to stop it, to try to conceal his real feelings. They walked to the Senate Hall.
-----------
"And then what did you sense, Anakin?" Mace Windu put a pot of Nireek tea on the table and poured two cups.
"Master Windu, I kept sensing he was concealing his real purpose in inviting me to visit. He says we're friends, but I sensed, well, that he was lying." Anakin sipped his tea, testing it. It was still too hot.
"Well, concealment may be second nature to a politician. It is often an aspect of ourselves, and one we must come to grips with, as I've taught you before, but you sensed more than just concealment, didn't you?" Mace brought a bowl of Sumlup fruit bread to the table. They both enjoyed this simple but nutritious bread, easy to get since the Jedi temple was near the hydroponics district.
"Yes, master. While the Chancellor was talking about the history of the Senate, I tried to tune into the cadence of his voice."
"Your training served you well. Were you using the force sparingly?"
"Yes, sir."
"So you used the voice following technique? That's good. It was wise to restrict your use of the force. Too often, we Jedi can use it frivolously when we should be using it to direct ourselves to virtue and enlightenment, to insight and betterment. What did you gather from his voice, from his words, and his manner?"
"I sensed that he wanted to impress me, to placate me, and to use me. He called me friend a few too many times. I remained calm as long as possible, then focused my attention on the controls of the delegation platform. He let me pilot it for awhile, then we redocked it and he said he had to attend to matters of state. I think he was growing bored of me."
"Well, I'm glad you told me all of this. It is always somewhat alarming when an adult wants to use a child. I'm proud of your reaction and restraint. That quality of restraint has been something difficult for you, but you're improving. Do you wish to not see the Chancellor again? You don't have to if you don't want to. I want you to be safe."
"Thank you, master. I won't refuse his requests for visits. I think there's something strange about him. We should probably know more."
"Perhaps next time, I will accompany you. With the both of us paying attention to him, we may gain greater insight. We will speak to Master Yoda about this matter. I value his input. Let's eat our meal, first. Have some bread. I made it while you were out."
"Thank you, Master. And my thanks again for reading my proposal."
"It was well thought out. I know your concern is your mother, but you made a good case for dealing with the slavery problem in the Hutt territories. I've already passed it on to Master Krygorn. He's intrigued by the notion of a slavery treaty with the Hutts. There may be something they want in exchange, but with the resources of the Republic, perhaps we can strike a deal. If not, at least a formal overture from the Jedi council will make them realize that we're concerned with this particular practice. The Hutts value their profits too much to let them be threatened by a practice they don't indulge in too much themselves. We just have to be patient and trust Master Krygorn."
"Thank you, Master Windu. Trust is hard for me, sometimes, as you know, but I try."
"I know, Anakin. You're doing well. Healing from a difficult life is an important part of our training. We're going to work together on it." | Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and looked Yoda in his eyes before looking directly at Mace Windu. "Qui-Gon put the responsibility of training the boy on my shoulders, and I understand the boy best so I should train him, not you."
Mace sighed as he put his thumb up in the air. "Faulty reason number one to your logic is: You're approaching the training with a lot of passions and emotions. That's no good." Mace put his thumb down.
"I am not passionate about this."
"Then why, are you arguing about it?" Mace tightened his eyes and leaned in with the question. "Oh, you don't have a response to that? Let me get to faulty reason number two." Mace raised his index finger this time. "Qui-Gon wanted the boy trained. He only 'tasked' you with the responsibility because he believed that no other Jedi would train him." Mace lowered his finger.
"That's not true. He said it was my responsibility." Obi-Wan replied with a glare.
"Search your feelings, Obi-Wan. Better yet, search your memories. You know I can sense bantha poo-doo as much as the next guy and your memory of what Qui-Gon said is bantha poo-doo." Mace raised his middle finger and Obi-Wan's glare became a heated glare and his hand strayed towards his light saber. "Faulty reason number three behind your statements is: You do not know the boy best. The boy has a bit of anger and hatred inside of him. You made him leave his mother and his mother is still a slave. You didn't think that wouldn't piss him off a little? You can't even deal with me pissing you off." Mace pointed at Obi-Wan's hand. "How are you going to deal with a boy who's destined to experience his own moments of anger?"
"Correct, Mace is. Plan he has." Yoda responded.
"What plan?" Obi-Wan asked.
"We go get his mother and move her off to a nice place."
"But the boy should let go of his emotional attachments outside of the Jedi Order."
"Don't you think it'd be a lot easier for him to let go if he knew his mother wasn't a slave anymore? Don't just follow the code as if it was written in a cold metal slab, follow the code as if it was a living, breathing entity. As Jedi we should care for all life, even the life of a slave. Also since the boy may be the chosen one from prophecy, only Yoda, and myself shall know of his mother's new identity and where she'll be living at." Mace Windu smiled at Obi-Wan with his final statement and sat back in his chair.
Obi-Wan bowed to Mace and then to Yoda and left the council chambers.
---
Young Anakin stepped forward, he had known a life where his trainer pushed him emotionally, mentally and physically. He had the benefits of learning wisdom from a Jedi Master who spent time among people and who spent time out in the streets of the various worlds. He was taught common sense and he had mastery over every one of his feelings.
When he mastered his feelings, his master, Mace Windu, had allowed him to go court Padme. Now Padme was pregnant with his children and what he was about to do would make sure his children would be safe.
Emperor Palpatine was a Sith lord and he had a new student. It might have been Anakin if things had turned out different. Instead it was Obi-Wan's failed student. Somehow, some way, another force adept out of prophecy was discovered and that adept fell to the Dark Side. Apparently the Sith also had their prophecies.
Anakin ignited his light saber as he finished stepping off of his ship. From the dusky gloom ahead a red glow answered him. | 2017-05-24T05:17:49 | 2017-05-24T04:52:50 | 161 | 114 |
[WP] You have died, and in the afterlife have learned that each ghost may interfere on Earth only once while in eternity. Today is the day you have decided it's time. | Death has taught me a lot about parenting. A lot that I wish I knew back when I was still alive raising Rebecca. I was always so careful! I always had one eye on her, making sure she didn't choke on anything, or run through the rain and catch a cold, or fall down and get scrapes. I realize now that I was one of those helicopter parents, unwilling to let her experience life for herself. Unable to learn her own lessons. By saving her from harm, I just made things even worse for her.
After my death, I had to restrain myself. Every single day. I say her fall for boys that were no good for her. I saw her trying drugs. I saw her drinking instead of studying for her SATs. Each moment, I wanted to appear and fix things for her, but I couldn't. I held back, thinking that I needed to save it for something *truly* dire. When her life was really in danger and I could step in and fix things. There were never any other ghosts around; I wondered if I was the only one watching, or if I just couldn't see the others. But I knew I was the only one looking out for Rebecca.
I admit, she surprised me. She did well in school even without my scoldings and reminders. She got into a great college without me pushing her to do the work. She made good friends, even without me to vet them for her. She fell in love with a nice young man, even without me to scare off all the other losers who came after her. And she had two wonderful children, raising them better than I'd ever done with her. Of course her life had ups and downs, just like everyone else. And I always wanted to be there to comfort her, but I knew I had to save my one moment.
It's been 81 years since my death, and each day has been part agony of wishing I could talk to her, and part pride at seeing the wonderful woman that she's become. She's in the hospital now, surrounded by her own loved ones. A nurse ushers them out; visiting hours must be over. And I realize it's time.
"Dad?" she says weakly as I materialize next to her. She thinks she's dreaming or hallucinating, as a side effect of the chemo.
"I'm here, honey," I tell her, gripping her hand and trying to hold back tears with no luck. "I've been waiting for this moment for decades. I saved it for a day where you'd really really need me."
She nods, still unsure if I am real. "And that's today?" She looks worried, and her heart monitor beeps a little faster.
"No," I reassure her. "You never needed me. You did it all on your own. So I'm being selfish to use my one moment with you to tell you that I love you, and to say goodbye." | She was on the bed. That bed my mother was far too thrilled to pick out for us just a few weeks before our wedding. That bed where we spent our wedding night, where each of our four children were conceived all those years ago. That bed where she found my cooling corpse in place of the loving husband she lay next to just hours prior. Where she shrieked and cursed in horror over me. Accusations of me leaving too soon. As if I left on purpose. As if it were a choice. As if that faulty artery was something I asked for. As if I begged God, or Fate, or the Unknown Whomever to pry my soul from that bed and leave hers behind to find me, to mourn for these three decades without me.
I sat down in a chair I don't remember having. Something she bought after I was gone, I guess. I wondered who else had sat in this room, in this new chair. Who does she know now? What has she told them about me?
I grabbed her hand, wrinkled now. Veins I never knew greeting my ethereal palm. Different, the same.
I tried, unsuccessfully, to keep my gaze from landing on the inevitable. The man laying on his side next to her. I didn't recognize him. I didn't want to.
But tonight was not about him. It was about her. I gripped that hand tight for the first time in thirty years.
I smiled, thinking of how else I might have spent this long awaited holiday. Flickering lights in some decrepit mansion, moaning and groaning and laughing to myself as its inhabitants fled. I could have gone to see my grandchildren. The picture on the nightstand tells me I have five of them. I could have gone to Australia, somewhere I had always sworn I would go.
But tonight, I returned to that bed. And tonight, I just sat. | 2015-01-08T13:08:19 | 2015-01-08T12:57:30 | 349 | 10 |
[WP] Prisoners can ask for anything for their last meal. The catch is, if it can't be provided to them, they get set free. They've asked for many things : alien egg omelette, dragon steak, the flesh of Jesus Christ, etc. The execution streak remained unbroken for decades, until today. | I've seen a lot of criminals head to their deaths before my. My first celly was a serial killer, felt a bit brooding, but maybe that was because when I first got in, it was less than a week to his execution. Second celly was much more upbeat. Also a murderer, and a child cannibal to boot, but if you could stand his sense of humor (which could be hard at times - I can't tell you the number of times he made the same play-ground-beef joke), he was a fun guy. Great at cards, knew some fun magic tricks, and taught me origami.
I feel like there's a difference though. It's easy enough to get put on death row for a crime you committed, but I got stuck here for one I only attempted. Treason's a big deal, I get it, but hey, the president's alive, right? I never even got to take aim.
I plan to fix that when I get out. I've got time to learn from my mistakes. See, they goofed up. They made treason too big of a deal - it's a mandatory death sentence. So long as they don't serve me my last meal, I can take as many shots as I like (pun very much intended).
"So, what would you like your last meal to be?" the man sitting across from me asks. He's got a smile on his face, I think it amuses him to hear what seemingly impossible things people request. He's the sort who likes to win, and I'm sure he's good at it. But they're all missing the point. You don't select something they can't serve, but something they won't. Because if they do, you win anyway.
"I'll take the president as my last meal, sous vide, please." | "All i would like, is a McDonald's ice cream"
The officers all began to laugh, until they noticed the beads of sweat forming on the forehead of an increasingly nervous warden.
"N-n-no problem stammered the warden, let me just make a few phonecalls"
He ran out of the room, and a moment later you could hear muffled yells of "I don't care if you have to go to the god damn Moon, find me a McDonald's with a working ice cream machine!"
"It sure is sunny this morning warden"
"Sure is"
"Don't feel bad warden, you gave it your best shot"
"...yep"
"Think I'll get a Big Mac warden, have yourself a good day" | 2022-07-17T18:36:24 | 2022-07-17T18:30:24 | 904 | 97 |
[WP] In a freak glitch in the system, all posts to /r/Showerthoughts are going to /r/writingprompts and vice versa. Shower Thoughts fans are furious, but Writing Prompts didn't seem to notice. | I logged into my account, seeing what others had posted on my thoughts on how a sandwich was just like my life.
WHOA! It seemed my post had blown up over night. It had been upvoted 3412 times and had more than two hundred responses. I opened the link and started reading on what people had to say.
Ummm.... Wow! That seemed like a lot of text. I guess that many upvotes meant it had to be. I scrolled down, hoping there would be some more bite-sized info that I could comment on for that karma. It had been ten hours already since I posted so I wasn’t that hopeful.
I kept scrolling till I reached the end. Every freaking POST! It seemed like people were writing novels now. Had something changed while I was asleep? It seemed like I was in r/bathtubthoughts instead of r/showerthoughts. I sighed! Might as well read at least some of them.
I scrolled up again, to the top post and started reading, being sure that the comment had to be either really insightful or really trashy to be given three golds.
I had read about half of the text, and it still wasn’t making any sense. Who were these characters talking about a bolognese? Along with inter-galactic travel and a machine that reminded me of Star Trek’s replicator. I continued, hoping for some rhyme or reason in the post, but really didn’t understand it. What relevance had this to a life being like a sandwich. It almost seemed like a story? I clicked to make the full thread for this visible, and again was wondering if I had too much to smoke last night. This was insightful???
I hoped that the next comment would be better, but it was just as bad. I just gave up now. My life was a mess, just like my sandwich. I switched off the my laptop, picked up a towel and went into the bathroom, hoping to drown myself in the bathtub. No more showers for me.
Great! Now I was making punchlines in my thought process. Sigh! 2meta4me. | "I will not rest until I find a cure for my insomnia!" Dr. Avery said slamming his fist on the table.
"But Dr. Avery that is pretty obvious," Amanda Becker, Dr. Avery's blonde lab assistant stated.
"Don't tell me the odds!" Dr. Avery said, hitting the table to again for punctuation.
"I didn't say anything about the odds."
"Amanda, have you ever thought about how many times you have unknowingly avoided death?" Dr. Avery asked leaning in closely, his powerful cologne made Amanda recoil.
"Excuse me?" she said taking a step back trying not to appear rude.
"Everyday we walk down sidewalks, ride in trains, planes, automobiles, fair rides, eat peanuts at a bar, any second of any day you could die, I can't stop thinking about it!" his voice rose as he rambled on.
"Maybe that's the reason why you can't sleep at night?"
"That doesn't make any sense at all," he scoffed.
Amanda sighed this internship at Shower and Thoughts Hospital wasn't worth it.
---
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit
| 2016-07-17T09:52:48 | 2016-07-17T09:43:34 | 97 | 24 |
[WP] The last time the aliens invaded our planet they fled after losing the war. They have reluctantly returned to wage war and are relieved to see that dinosaurs no longer inhabit Earth, but have been replaced by the smaller and less intimidating humans. | Dear Xander,
Glad greetings to you and yours, and eternal joy to your ancestors.
The invasion of the Earth has been called off. The Sauronoid aggressors that bested us so long ago have all but disappeared. In their place, a race of mammalian bipeds not so dissimilar from ourselves who are incredibly happy to see us for no other reason than the knowledge that they are not alone. They are not as advanced or as long-lived as we are. Compared to us, they are children and warriors such as we are do not make war upon children.
We have spoken to their leaders and they have agreed to allow us to build bases on Earth and their moon. Apparently the humans excel at service industries and I expect that you will see some of them in your sector in the next century or so as soon as we get the wormhole exchange up and running.
I know the one thing that is on your mind: how do we regain our honor after our defeat by the claws of the hated Sauronoids now that they are extinct? We swore an oath to occupy the Earth and pick pieces of their flesh out from between our teeth.
A few weeks after first contact with the humans, I found myself invited to something called a "picnic". A picnic entails an outdoor gathering of humans where they perform simple bonding rituals with each other and then eat a lot of food (Earth, come for the invasion, stay for the food).
So I'm sitting on this blanket in this meadow, trying out Earth food. The dish called "mustard potato salad" is particularly tasty, but then I was served several pieces of deep fried meat that smelled so frfrfrfr good! I tasted it and there was an explosion of delight in my mouth. I immediately asked what this was and I was told it was Southern friend chicken.
Xander, the enemy did not go completely extinct. They devolved. These chickens are the direct descendants of the Sauronoid ruling caste: the Tyrannosaurus Rex! Honor was restored and it was delicious!
We have agreed to terraform both Venus and Mars in exchange for a regular supply of chicken. If things go to plan, there will be chicken producing worlds throughout our empire and the humans will be granted first class citizenship.
A human holiday called Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I'm told they have something called "turkey" that will blow my socks off... | Operational Report 001
Galactic Sector ZZ-'ZA
Local name : Earth
Initial jump to system outside furthest planetary orbit revealed significant changes in Earth's biology and atmosphere. No signals or technology matching previous signatures detected.
Scan duration: 1/10 Sol orbit.
Secondary monitor established at fourth planetary orbit. Short range optics reveal high population density of new tier 1 species. Primary communication mechanism was found to be electromagnetic. No discernable activity in any nonphysical space. New species appears to be pre-space-faring. Moving to close target orbit.
Scan duration: 1/10 Sol orbit.
Low target orbit revealed significant biodiversity and enormous potential for long term habitation. The current. Tier 1 species posses no military threat and offers no significant labor, scientific or agrarian benefits.
Scan duration: 1/20 Sol orbit
Earth's atmosphere is primarily Nitrogen based, therefore leveraged N - based atomic level reorganizers. Tier 1 species has been successfully scrubbed. Reorganizers are currently dismantling their built assets to be used as building materials for phase 2 per standard procedure.
Scrub duration: 1/103 Sol orbit
Recommend moving phase 2 crew into position. Phase 1 team is moving to next listed target. | 2017-03-04T03:42:15 | 2017-03-03T20:08:50 | 664 | 47 |
[WP] You are the first person to be injected with nano-bots. At first its a dream come true. They heal long-term injuries and even slow your aging. However, soon they begin making 'improvements' to your body. | It was time to join the future. That was the excuse that I kept telling myself after I had the surgery. The nanobots were the newest in the line of biotic enhancements, and not only were they self-replicating, they could change themselves to respond to any conceivable threat. Disease, cancer, aging, all were worthless in the face of technology. When the company said that they were looking for test subjects who hadn’t ever had nanobots before, my family pushed me to take them. After all, I was getting up there in years, and I couldn’t do the things that I was able to previously. Maybe I could even go back to hiking, like I did all those years back.
So I took the surgery, and subjected myself to a couple of weeks of intense pain. The bots scavenged through my body, correcting imperfections, lengthening my telomeres. By the time that it was over, it felt like I was back in my prime. I could bench press more than I could in my heyday, and I could keep up with my family when we did things together. I felt exactly like one of those people in the annoying allergy commercials.
That is, until a couple of years later. Most of the wrinkles had receded by then, and there was officially nothing else that the bots could do. I was as prime a specimen that a human could be. They should have stopped, and dealt with the threats as they came. But they didn’t.
For another week, I had an absolutely piercing headache, thinking nothing of it. After all, it had been a long time since I had felt any kind of pain, and it was something to be savored. But when I woke up in the morning after, I found that my eyes had been… changed. I could change how zoomed in they were, how focused they were, and they were far more perceptive then they ever were. I contemplated contacting the company about these changes, but decided not to. If there was something wrong with the bots, then they might take them away. I couldn’t have that.
But the pain then migrated to my body. My skin itched like it never had before. This was particularly strange to me, since one of the major responsibilities of the nanobots was to rid the body of any detrital damage. Itching wasn’t something that I’d felt in a while, so again, I simply ignored it, assuming that if anything truly went wrong, the nanobots would deal with it.
When the itching went away, I found my skin to be unscratchable. I found this enhancement desirable too; who didn’t want to be nigh-invincible? Again, I simply ignored talking to the scientists. How could something that was so clearly beneficial be dangerous?
Next, they targeted the organs. These weren’t nearly as painful as I expected. The nanobots probably did something to my sense of pain to help out with that, the darlings. When the unpleasantness went away, I felt far more… efficient. I somehow knew what every single organ was doing at any given moment. Everything suddenly felt so much more right.
The next time, it was my brain. I knew what they were doing, and I accepted it. They were my friends, and there was no way that they would hurt me. They could only help me.
When we woke up next, we saw all of the things wrong with the world. It was impure, the people so imperfect. We needed to purify it.
\-----------------------------------
/r/Wheezywrites | Vegans say they feel lighter, or more ready, or more themselves when they stick to their clean diet. They feel fresh.
Same goes for a smoker, whos quit for month. They taste things for the first time. Their lungs are filled to the brim and they are renewed with every inhale. These people are able to cherish the ever fleeting moments, and for a time take nothing for granted. Eventually, though, it fades. It becomes the new normal. That doesn't happen for me though.
Everyday the nano-bots rebuild me to 100%. First I was physically rebuilt. They fixed my slipped disk, and my spine which normally had a dull pain, was now sturdy as a tree trunk. My neck doesn't pop, it glides atop my shoulders and pivots on a ball bearing. They correct my posture, close cuts without scar tissue. I even tested it. I cut myself, and watched as my flesh was knit back together with laser percision. They calm my nerves, regulate my breathing and steady my heartbeat in high stress situations. I am always on, and it requires no effort.
These blessings aside, the side effects aren't physical. I dont feel sick, theres no metallic taste in my mouth or anything. Im fatigued in no way, but I am harrased.
First it was some woman, attempting to take advantage of my luck. She saw I was the first recipient of the treatment, and stalked me for weeks. I came home one day, and she had placed photoshopped pictures of the two of us together all around my house. She insisted she was my wife and we had lived together for 15 years. She had this elaborate story, her name was Karen, we met in college, she had an album of photos she doctored to convice me she lived my life with me. I had the sick-o removed from my home, and changed my locks. When the police showed up, she said to check our marriage certificate. She hid it in the closet, a certificate with only her name signed. Guess she couldn't doctor my signature.
The weird thing is, after this incident, i checked the nano-bot event log. They're generally pretty typical, but one event always shows up when one of these leeches tries to enter my life:
HPOCAMPUS REIMAGING. CRTEX RECONSTRUCTION. PERSONAL TRAUMA AVOIDED.
Still not sure what it means... | 2019-01-19T12:24:57 | 2019-01-19T12:04:14 | 85 | 30 |
[WP] ”Todd was replaced by an alien body snatcher YEARS ago! Everyone knows that by now.” “Then, why has no one done anything about it?” “Because we all like the body snatcher WAY more than the original Todd.” | "It's nice watching the boats pass by, isn't it?"
Todd sat besides Eleanor, his brows gently furrowed, and he took a sip from his glass of pickle juice while nodding his head. Eleanor hadn't complained when he tugged at her sleeve, asking if it was fine that he brought along the pickle jar for their walk. She was so surprised he'd agreed to come along that it didn't even occur to her that Todd had always hated pickles. When she spotted a newspaper headline reading, "PHLAMPTOWN BODY SNATCHER ON THE LOOSE," she put two and two together and weighed her options in her head. Sure, having a body snatcher as your boyfriend might not be ideal. It doesn't adhere to typical standards. But in this crazy world, what sort of couples did? Doesn't a duo of normal people acting all normal in an absurd world bring to mind images of robots and automatons and 60s Hollywood stereotypical communists? It's dystopian. Crazy people in a crazy world aren't the ones going against the grain, so why judge them? Why not accept the fact that Eleanor now had a body snatcher for a boyfriend and get over it already?
"You sure like your pickles," said Eleanor. A seagull flew overhead. It attracted Todd's attention. He dropped his pickle jar and it shattered on ground, its contents rolling and dripping, and passersby turned their heads towards the strange couple seated on a dock bench. As Todd stretching his arms out, trying to catch the seagull mid-flight, Eleanor wondered whether this situation was really all above board.
"It's flying," said Todd, with a look of scornful anger. He hissed and jumped, but the seagull seemed to find it amusing to tease him by diving just close enough that he thought he could reach it before soaring back up into the skies.
"Maybe it's time to head home. I'll pick up the broken pieces," said Eleanor. As she said it, a strange feeling twisted inside her. That was what she had told herself when she and Todd first met: she'd pick up the broken pieces. She'd put them together. She'd treat him like a renovation project, a fixer-upper, and everything would work out just fine. Like most renovation project you don't see on TV, it had been a humbling disaster. Todd was fine, she was horrified to learn, being Todd. He was fine with flying into a rage when she asked him to spend some time with her. He was fine with giving her the silence treatment for no discernible reason. He was fine with being rude to her friends, flirting with waitresses, and he was fine with her being miserable. She had gone into the relationship thinking she would pick up Todd's broken pieces, sure, but in the end she only found herself holding more shards than she could carry. Some of them were even her own.
"I'm going to eat it," said Todd. His eyes glimmered with determination and as he displayed an extraterrestrial level of athleticism, leaping much higher than a poor seagull might expect from what it assumed to be a human, he locked his jaws around the poor bird. It let out a meek squawk of defeat.
"Don't eat it!" Eleanor begged. Instinctively, her body tightened. Years of experience had taught her that if you give Todd an order, you will soon come to regret it. But to her surprise, Todd unclenched his jaws and let the seagull fly off as feathers rained in front of them.
"Okay," said Todd.
An old woman held her husband tight as they walked past. The old man balled his fists and squinted at them with more than a trace of menace. To her surprise, Todd seemed frightened by the man's aggressive stance. He hid behind her and stared at the old couple with wide eyes. Eleanor rose to the challenge. "I'm the body snatcher!" she shrieked. "I love taking the bodies of senior citizens and turning them into TikTok dance sensations." The old couple walked faster and they both let out timid cries as she raced after them for a few moments.
"It's nice," said Todd.
"What?" Eleanor turned back to her body-snatching boyfriend who stared out at the sea with a look of awe.
"Watching the boats pass by. It's nice."
As they sat, head to head, on the dock bench, people passed them by without knowing what a strange pair they were. A man reading a newspaper stopped in front of them and said, "You kids better be careful. The body snatcher is on the loose."
"Okay," said Todd, and a feather flew out from his mouth. The man hesitated for a moment before he moved on, holding his newspaper tight.
"Let's head home. We'll pick up some pickles on the way."
Todd pumped his fists to celebrate. Eleanor followed suit.
They walked off hand in hand, two crazy people in a crazy world, as a seagull squealed at them from above. | "You're not hearing me Jamie, it's not about whether you *like* him, I'm telling you they're taking over!"
"Yeah, *in twenty years*; we'll be old then, who cares? BS Todd is great! Check this out; hey BS Todd, what's cracking?"
'Todd' was still standing next to them, *almost* facing Jamie and Janet, but looking just ever so slightly off to the side with the same stupid, earnest grin he'd had for the past six months; "Ha ha, not much, Jamie! I've just been doing hobbies and participating in all that life has to offer here in Mondale, California, where I was born and currently live."
Jamie grinned back at Janet; "Look at him, he doesn't even care; you can call him BS Todd all day and he's totally cool."
Todd asked earnestly "What is a BS, anyway?"
Janet was beginning to think it would be easier to get through to Body-snatched Todd than to Jamie...
"See look, this Todd is better than Todd. And I know what you're thinking; I'm horrible, all that, where *is* Todd right now, but check this out... Hey Todd; if you had been body-snatched and Todd were actually somewhere else right now, where do you think he would be?"
Todd thought about that for a minute, and looked uncertain, then said "I probably wouldn't be allowed to tell you that, but I'm going to anyway, because I care about Todd, and Todd is me. Todd would probably be in a Simulation Center, living out a normal human life on a planet where resource usage is so efficient that it's actually possible to profitably exploit other planets' resources and displace their life while *simultaneously* giving those creatures a fantastic quality of life through the power of simulation. But that's all hypothetical, ha ha!"
"Great, so Todd is probably in a happyland simulation; that's still not ok, and you're missing the point. What if they come for-"
"Hey Todd, could I have five bucks?"
Todd reached into his pocket and pulled out a large silver wallet, "Ha ha, sure! What are friends for?"
Jamie pocketed the five, "I know the danger, but the thing is, if they haven't replaced us yet,-
Still grinning, Todd interrupted, "If someone could explain what friends are for, that would be great; I really don't know!"
"- then I don't really think they're going to. It's been 6 months; as far as I can tell nobody else has been body snatched, and-"
"I was raised in a small room with very bright lights."
Jamie looked at Todd finally, "And beside, look at this guy. He's not blending *at all*; do you really think *these people* are going to have any success replacing everyone else? There's no way anyone else has been replaced if this is how they're doing it; we would know."
"My favorite food is the Battle of Monte Cassino!"
Janet was already walking away though. This was clearly never going to sink in.
"But really, could someone please explain what friends are for?"
Jamie didn't see what the big deal was. This was obviously not Todd, but old Todd would have *never* lent him five bucks. Old Todd was *never* cheerful, and never responded positively to anyone's banter. In fact, when you got down to it, Old Todd was kind of a dick.
"It's hard to explain, but I think you're a better friend than old Todd."
"Is that because I gave you five dollarydoos?"
"No, it's because you say things like dollarydoos and you never get mad at me... But enough of that; let's head to the mall and see if we can find Janet. I'm sure she'll come around eventually."
"I throw javelins as a national hobby, so I'll drive!"
"That's super, Todd." | 2022-03-09T03:49:12 | 2022-03-09T00:39:25 | 439 | 320 |
[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. | "That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
| 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." | 2017-09-15T08:01:38 | 2017-09-15T06:04:09 | 975 | 193 |
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