prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] You are a superhero without powers. You know a good bit about martial arts and you're resourceful, but the main reason you're so successful? Every time a villain monologues their plan, you calmly and clearly explain to them why their plan won't work. | I didn't bother struggling against my bonds as I was being slowly lowered towards the shark-laden acid pit. To an ordinary hero this would seem like the end, but not for me. It was just another day in the life of Lynchpin.
As predicted, the mechanism stopped, only for the head of the Syndicate, an eyepatch wearing gorilla of a man, to come into view.
"Alas, here we are again. Did you really expect to get away after what you did to me when we last met?"
"Listen" I told him. "All I said was that you were gonna poke your eye out with that thing. It's not I-"
"Silence!" the Boss instructed. "I've had enough of your jabbering. There is no grand plan this time Lynchpin. I'm just going to kill you and end this once and for all."
On cue, the gears above my feet started turning, and I was being lowered again, albeit at an excruciatingly slow pace.
"i mean what are you exlecting to accomplish with that?" I asked
"... What do you mean? You're a thorn in our side and-"
"But like, even if you kill me, it's not like your plans will work just because i don't point out the inherent issues with them"
The pully system stopped again.
"Well, I suppose not, but that's not the point. We-" he stammered
"When you think about it, I'm actually doing you guys a favor. Could you imagine if you'd actually tried the Death Ray Dr. Goodenough had built? Hell, I probably saved your life that time."
I could see it in his eye. I had him.
He mumbled something into his beard.
"What was that?"
"I said let him go damnit"
The crane operator goon didn't hesitate. He immediately started fiddling with the controls, and before I knew it, I was back on my feet being untied.
"Hey boss" i started "I really owe you one."
He merely grumbled in response.
"No seriously." I continued. "Let me give you a tip. Don't mix the sharks with acid next time. It'll just kill the sharks, and when they bleed out it'll dilute the acid. Really inefficient" | "**Your time is up, Cogitare! I, the great Commander Stultum, have built a mirror dish in deep space to reflect the heat of Andromeda to the Earth and slowly heat the oceans so that in 1000 years, there'll be a bit less water! This will slightly reduce the quantity of krill in the water and further endanger many whale species. And there's nothing you can do!! Nyeh heh heh!!**"
"Commander Stultum, have you thought this through? Andromeda is too far away to reflect any significant amount of heat. Your mirror is extremely in danger of being hit by meteors and even our solar probes. You're not ever even going to see the results of this scheme. If you surrender now, I can get the prosecutor to ask for a reduced sentence. Please make the right choice."
"***sigh*** **fine. The coordinates for the dish are on the monitor. How many of us have you taken down now?**"
"If I remember correctly, you're villain number 442. You guys really need to think these plans through a bit harder. The last guy wanted to use fear drugs and a microwave to destroy a city. Some fighty guy. Really weird." | 2020-09-27T09:25:22 | 2020-09-27T09:21:58 | 1,121 | 105 |
[WP] There are multi-Gods for the multi-verse, and it turns out ours is kind of like the 'cool mom who lets you drink at her house,' though other Gods look at our free will and generally silent deity as bad Godding on His part. | Sam sighed as he looked upon the whole of his creation. "I just don't want them to hate me," he said. "They never even knew their mother. I'm all they've got."
The woman seated next to him nodded sagely. "I know it can be hard, raising them alone. But this hands-off approach you've been using for the past few millennia just isn't *good* for them, dear. They need *discipline*. As it is, your people are stunted. You gave them this whole beautiful universe and for the most part they don't even care to explore it. They just stay in their Earth, wrecking the place and fighting with each other over who loves you more. You need to give them a little guidance. They'll thank you for it."
"I'm just worried if I let myself lose my temper I'll take it too far," said Sam.
"Yes," the woman paused, considering her words carefully. "The flood was a little bit over the top. But you can teach them boundaries without all of that."
Sam flushed slightly. "I'm still embarrassed about that one," he said. "But they just really push your buttons sometimes, you know? It's the free will that makes it tricky." He sighed again. "Sara would have known what to do."
"I know you miss her," the woman said. She patted his knee. "But you can't just let them run wild like this. Have you thought about reining in the free will a bit? Your people might be happier that way. Look at your ants and bees. So organized!"
"They're killing the bees too!" Sam shook his head. "No, that's my fault. I should have made them cuter. You should see how hard they work to save pandas, and they don't pollinate anything!"
"I think we're getting off topic, dear."
"I'm just saying, a lot of this is on me," said Sam. "I've just been creating off the cuff. Panda bees! That's a great idea right? I should get to my workshop."
The woman shook her head. "You can't just keep escaping into your work."
Sam shrugged "Look, the people will sort things out in time. But they have to have free will. I haven't given up on my goal yet."
"What is your goal, dear? What do you want from them?"
"Just...someone to talk to," Sam said. "That's all."
There was no reply.
The wind picked up. Sam looked at the empty space beside him and sighed again. He stood up.
"I really should get back to it then," he said to the wind.
| They had told him to intervene. They said "inaction in the face of evil is itself an action". And so it was with much thought that he chose the most pious of men, indeed the finest specimen the species had ever produced, to receive the 10 axioms of true knowledge, the 10 essential principles from which all knowledge about the world, indeed all knowledge itself, could be derived....
So it was amidst thunder and lightning, fire and smoke, that the heavens opened and the lord spoke. Just small talk, how are the wives and kids, you know. Being God doesn't mean you can be a jerk, still gotta make the guests comfortable (hmmm where they the guests or was he the guest? save that for Jesus, he like getting hung up on shit like that). After a small time
that little fucker though, Moses, he cracked them.
Then he came back 40 days later and he was like "give me another set".
I was like, "Moses WTF man, I spent all night writing those"
Then he started talking about golden cows or other such gibberish. I tuned him out.
Ya. Sure. Your on your own Moses.
What you gonna do Moses? A million people sit at the foot of the mountain waiting for him to return with the axioms.
little fucker made up his own axioms and said that they were from me. The nerve.
Maybe I'll come back in 10,000 years. The dolphins might have a thumbs by then. | 2017-05-07T09:14:56 | 2017-05-07T08:22:43 | 524 | 45 |
[WP] The reason why there has been no formal contact between Earth and the Galactic Council is because, basically, the Human race is considered the galactic equivalent of Florida Man. | "IT ATE IT" Hissed Jekob-3, the Androde. His metallic pincers opened and shut rapidly, enormous pupils swiveling from one council member to the next. All looked at the holo-screen with varying degrees of horror.
What the council assumed to be a human *aristocrat,* daintily wiped her mouth after partaking in a plateful of one of the most terrifying creatures known to the council. She looked up at her servant and to their horror, asked for more...*fried*.
an Octopus, they called it.
Known as a Sargonite to those familiar with the fierce race, all trembled in fear at the mention of them. When fully fledged they farmed entire *Sola* for their young, and lived in the hearts of crumbling galaxies, the council had been *formed* to defend against them.
Another member, a *Kaulois*, a reptilian race, pointed a trembling finger at the human next to it. Who had just been served a plate of...were those Paleins? It gagged, long red tongue lolling out of its oblong snout and onto the ground. Paleins, a poisonous plant that drove many a race insane, are incredibly rare outside of worlds rich in water. Here they named it *Kale*, but its nickname was "*The Fall of an Empire*." After having killed off a Guodion emperor and his entire harem after having it shredded into their meals. They'd died slowly, and not before bringing their capital planet to its knees.
More and more members of the Council pointed things out, not just what they were eating, but what they were *doing.*
"Why do they...?" Another said, having zoomed into the scene of multiple humans kicking around a ball in a large field, something seemed to have triggered the herd of humans, as they all burst into a riot and began destroying infrastructure indiscriminately.
"Fellow council members--" began a quivering alien, its feelers all raised in the air "--This excursion to the human planet, Earth, has shown me that humans have no need for the council."
One by one, they began to agree. A Zorp, a wriggly mass of keratin with a beak opened its mouth and screeched. The translator nodded its many heads furiously.
"His highness believes that perhaps the humans should be added to the list of races the council needs to defend ***against*** if need be.***"*** | Airend\`2fn blinked over and over again as the SenseText reached them.
Blinking was, of course, was the coping strategy of lesser life forms.
But this news from Tellus -- why, it would make *any* carbon dweller blink.
They had told themselves repeatedly when they took the post --
It's just for a few centuries.
It's an appendage onto the ladder!
But every time they thought there was nothing that could shock them anymore -- the residents of Tellus found something new.
"It's only *one* Tellus species," their comrade leader would click, trying to soothe them.
"Consider the noble dolphin. The dominance of this biped species, however repulsive, is less than a parsec. Soon enough, a more worthy and sightly genus will arise."
Airend\`2fn hoped they'd be delivering reports on light beam refraction in the Magellanic Cloud far before the octopi replaced homo erectus.
And in the present moment, writing up reports about the antics of Tellus -- from their intentional decimation of their biosphere to the astoundingly disproportion of resource allocation -- wore on Airend\`2fn.
They liked to think it would wear on any self respecting Galactic Cadre.
Still, they had to admit -- since becoming a monitor for Tellus, they had much better stories at parties. | 2022-12-29T10:45:42 | 2022-12-29T06:06:01 | 37 | 12 |
[WP] You are in a world filled with superhumans. You have a unique power. Every time your sponsored, you get a power related to the sponsor. NordVPN? An unbreakable force field. Uber Eats? You can make any food. | When you have the ability to gain new abilities based on who sponsors you, you'd figure that livestreaming your crimefighting to attract more sponsors for would be a great idea
Instead, I'm currently on the ground staring right into the barrel on a revolver pointed at me. I have an ability that was supposed to handle it, but it had a limit (Apparently a Samsung sponsorship only makes electronics explode, not non-smart firearms)
"Time to put an end to your so-called videomaking career, hero," said thug, as he squeezed the trigger. I heard a slight *ding* come from my pocket before the *bang* of his gun. Then, the sudden pain.
And then nothing.
Not the nothing like "the dark void of death". I mean like that was all that happened. Bang! Pain. Still alive! No blood, no fade to black. That kind of nothong.
Aside from a small amount of pain coming from my forehead, I was alright, and, of course, confused. How did I survive that?! I wasn't sponsored by any companies specializing in military armor or security. None of current skillset should have enabled me to survive a direct bullet to the head.
My thoughts were interrupted from a notification from my phone. I took my eyes off the bewildered thug and glance at the message displayed on phone's cracked screen.
After reading it, my eyes widened in shock. A second later, I started laughing.
"What's so funny?!" yelled the shocked gunman, his expression betraying how unnerved he was.
"My channel just got a new sponsor," I said with an air of new found confidence, cracking my knuckles and advancing upon my frightened, would-be murderer.
"Your ass-kicking for today has been brought to you by Nokia!" | My power had always been a weird one, not many knew what it was, not many thought it to be that useful but I always had an eye for items with good value as such I entered a profession where I could make good use of my power. I became a streamer.
Of course it was terribly hard in the beginning, but as my popularity grew so did my antics, I never discriminated against sponsors, the more eccentric the better, brands like Red Bull, Monster, Tesla and Google gave me and my viewers some of the most memorable memories.
Who wouldn't love to see a man with wings fight a goo monster with homemade tesla batteries.
Or watch a man invent element 126 while sitting on the moon. | 2022-11-08T12:18:22 | 2022-11-08T09:27:32 | 176 | 40 |
[WP] The eldritch god stood before the girl, in almost human form. "Your parents sold you to be my bride. I accepted, knowing that if I don't they will just try another deity, but I will not force this on you. Have this credit card and live as you wish. If you want something else instead, just ask." | The man, or what could potentially be considered a man, stood stiffly in front of the girl, smoothing the lapel of his velvet suit jacket with a long, bony finger.
"Your parents sold you to me, as a...bride," he said. One could call his expression pained, though there were no muscles attached to his skeletal face. His voice was tired and seemed to emanate from everywhere as he shifted from one foot to the other, and fiddled with his gray pocket square.
All that the girl could register as she gazed up at the man was a smooth skull, pearly white, surrounded by dark, smoky tendrils. It occurred to her that she should probably be frightened, as she stood before a massive skeleton, dressed for a fancy dinner, oozing what looked like pure shadow from every crevice. His eyes were empty pits, made darker still by his eldritch magic that flowed out and around his body. And yet, somehow, all she felt was curiosity. She'd truly seen worse, as far as monsters went.
"How old are you?" The girl asked. She looked at her feet. Her new shoes had scuff marks on them from being dragged to the foot of the sacrificial altar by her mother just minutes prior.
"I am older than the sun, the moon, and the stars, if that gives you an idea," Death said evenly.
"I'm eleven," the girl said. Death cringed internally. "And my name is Kit."
"Hello, Kit. My name is..." Death faltered, trying to think of a name that wouldn't frighten the child.
"My name is...it's...Ender. And I just want to make clear, we're not married. Your parents weren't going to stop offering your soul to the ancient gods until someone stepped up and paid your...your bride price. So I put a stop to it. I hope that's okay."
Kit looked up at the god and nodded. She was trying not to cry, Death noticed. She'd been through this process a few times already and been turned down by the other gods. He'd have to have a word with them.
"I'm starting to get it. Thanks, Ender. I don't think my mom wanted me around anymore. It didn't matter where I went, right?"
Death felt anger boiling inside his skull. Kit didn't seem like a bad kid in the slightest. He would have sensed it, given the fact that he was the judge, jury and executioner of who lived and died in this realm. The actions of her parents made him seethe.
"If you want, we can smite her from this plane of existence," Death quipped.
"Does that mean killing her?" Kit whispered.
"It can."
"I...I don't think I want to do that, but maybe something else would be good..."
And that was how Death incarnate, shepherd of wayward souls, got roped into the endless, childish pranks of an eleven year old girl.
He'd never felt so alive. | They called it the 'giving'.
The old priest reads the ancient scroll as a young woman is chained to the rock.
"Thus is it written".
"For fair exchange, the bride is given.
For fair exchange, the bride price is taken.
For fair exchange, the peace continues."
"Thus it is written".
As clouds gather and the light fades, a rumbling voice echoes, "For fair exchange, accepted".
The priest leads the villagers down rock steps worn smooth through the centuries. The parents not even looking back at their daughter, but following their new wealth that will last them a lifetime.
As the last villager leaves the grotto, a misty form appears in front of the terrified woman, still chained to the rock.
"Your parents sold you to be my bride. I accepted, knowing that if I don't they would just try another deity, but I will not force this on you."
The chains fall away.
"You have access to my wealth and you may live as you wish. If you want anything else instead, just ask."
Wiping the tears from her eyes, the woman glares at the old god, "Do I want anything else? ... I want this to all end. This.. this senseless 'giving'. I want this to all stop. No more 'giving'".
The old god paused, thought a while and then nodded.
"Yes, but it will be a long and difficult task. The others are set in their ways and it will take much to convince them."
"I can help you to build your strength and to find your voice, for the villagers will need to be convinced, and you can become a leader among the women, to help them find their strength and their voices. If this is your wish."
"And I will handle the other gods, for it's time for them, for all the gods, to move on." | 2022-08-09T18:52:48 | 2022-08-09T16:31:11 | 285 | 191 |
[WP] The real reason why the villain is doing evil is because he/she has a crush on the hero and this is the only way to see him/her | "Solar Girl!" The police chief reveled. "Thank god you're here."
Solar Girl landed and faced the chief. "What seems to be the problem Chief?"
"All we know is there is some poor kid in there with a bomb strapped to him. We don't know where the detonator is or how it works, but we know it's the work of-"
"Quizno."
"Yeah. He's up to his old tricks."
"Don't worry Chief. I know his games. Just tell your men to stand down."
The Chief signaled to his men as Solar Girl lept into the air and flew onto the roof of the building. She kneeled and pressed her hands down and melted a hole in the roof just big enough to slip through.
She found herself hanging from the rafters of an abandoned warehouse. A few lights dimly revealed the place, nearly empty, save for the poor high-schooler tied to a chair, a steadily-ticking device strapped to his waist. Solar Girl recognized him right away. It was Trenton. That jerk in her English class, always bragging about his escapades with the other girls at Franklin High.
She held back a laugh as she noticed the tiara sitting on his head.
"Quite a nice touch Quizno," she whispered to herself. "Okay. Down to business." With her thermal vision she gauged the device. "Hmm. It just ticks," she chuckled, "it's a fake."
She flew down and lighted next to Trenton. He shook his head in a panic, directing her to the bomb with his eyes.
Solar Girl sighed and with a wave of her hand, melted the gears in the device. The ticking stopped. She removed the duct tape from his mouth, quick and painfully, somewhat glad to get some form of payback.
"Yoww! Solar girl! Thank you. You saved my life."
"Don't mention it. Please."
"I have to tell you a message, or else he'll still set off the bomb."
She snorted, "right."
"He said, meet me where this... ass-hat, plays- he made me say that. I had to say that- and sparks will really fly. But you can't be low to see it, you have to be Franklin *High*." Trenton rolled his eyes. "That freakin' nerd. What kind of name is Quizno? Quizno's is a fuckin' sandwich place."
She smiled. "I think it's cute," she said and lept up into the air.
"Wait! Get me out of here!"
"Bye, ass-hat."
She flew quickly and excitedly to the Franklin High football field, where blazing letters across it spelled out P-R-O-M-?
She spotted him on a building overlooking his work and landed across from him.
"Barry? From chem class? You're the infamous Quizno?"
"Uhm, h-hi." | “Hi,” she said, through a lopsided smile righted by her slumped posture.
He let out a long sigh, kneeling down and feeling her forehead. He took off his jacket and slipped it around her, and she pulled it tight. Lifting her up, he got her standing, though couldn't let her go.
“No piggyback?” she said with a whiny tone.
He didn't answer, pulling her forward until her feet gave up their protest and moved forward too. Step by step, slow and steady, he led her out the alley. The cars flashed by, street light flickering.
“Let's go to yours tonight,” she said, slurred.
“My girlfriend is upset enough with me.”
She giggled, covering her mouth. “Then just dump her!”
He came to a stop, bowing his head and sighing. “Why… do you do this?”
Her giggling continued erratically, interrupting herself as she spoke. “You only come when I mess up. My hero,” she said, dragging out the last word.
He swallowed the lump in his throat.
“You always come to save me.”
His grip on her wavered, loosened by the thoughts in his head. Without meaning to, one of his thoughts came out. “Then you're the villain.”
Rather than the cold reaction he expected, she burst into laughter, nearly pulling them both to the floor as she bent over wheezing. When she calmed down enough to speak, she said, “Yeah, I totally am.”
He closed his eyes, and breathed out. Then, he tightened his grip, and dragged her forwards, pulling her feet into action. “I won't answer next time, so don't do this again.”
“That's what you said last time.” | 2017-04-15T10:13:56 | 2017-04-15T10:04:09 | 1,686 | 189 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | "My brothers, I hope this message reaches you. We never should have come to this place. This...jewel of a planet, with simple creatures living simple lives. None of them followed the Ardok's Logic, 'the strong take through combat, and by taking they get stronger.' Our empire's founding principle, that has guided us through millennia of conflict and victory. These, 'humans,' practice the weakness of peace. Their end should have been swifter than most.
At first, it was. Death came for them, and they eagerly accepted it. Begging to put down the weapons and come to the table. Bah, weakness. The only negotiation is through combat, through war. But we stirred something, something dark...and something evil.
At first, they gathered weapons, though primitive, it was at least going to be a fight. The scale of their weapons was surprising but we adapted, instead of being bunched in large ships, easy targets for their large explosives, we began a ground invasion. Surgical, precise yet overwhelming. We engaged them on the open fields and began to have glorious battles, for a time. They...continually made a concentrated effort to always capture some of us alive. At first we thought it was a pitiful attempt at trading our brethren for peace. But the channels were silent, and the humans crept in the shadows, away from the glorious battlefields. It was then we began to see the true horrors of this infernal plane. For it was not their weapons, not their explosives. We have seen larger explosives than this hurled at our fleets.
Fifteen earth cycles of searching we found our brethren. They were all...disgraced, eviscerated, and clearly held down and mutilated. Tortured for information? What a primitive and cowardly act. They did not gain information from their lips, but they must have learned secrets I cannot begin to tell you.
From that day forward, we began to die. Not in glorious combat, but sickly and weak. Our organs ruptured, but not a single weapon was found. No shots, no stabbings...yet we kept falling. First by the dozens, soon by the thousands. We tried quarantining, and then as soon as we tried the humans would strike our sick, would engage not in the open fields but from remote distances. We would attempt to strike back, but those who went came back with no trophies and soon would show the same symptoms.
We have never encountered a race like this one. We have faced dishonor, but not sacrilege. Life to them is clearly not sacred. We thought them weak for such short lifespans, but perhaps it simply is because of how close to the void their hearts and minds are.
I have bore witness to the atramentous maw...and only eternal blackness stared back.
This is not a lush world of life, this is a horrific world of death. And no one can wield it better than they can. My time is short, despite my best efforts the humans have found new and worse poisons to fill the air with each passing day, far too quickly for us to adapt. I hope this message reaches you in time, to prepare, to run. They were able to steal one of our ships and were able to dissect it as they had us. The ship returning to you is not housed with our trophies. It is full of their trophies, trophies of rot and death. We shared our gospel of battle and killed billions. They would like to share their own of death, and return the favor tenfold." | Mobile, so please forgive any formatting errors.
World War 3 had devastated the planet. The major cities turned to radioactive dust. 300 years later, we can still feel the effects of it. From South Jersey, in the distance, you can see the ruins on New York. Fortunately, the ICBM's forgot about New Jersey. The powers of the time had seen that New Jersey was already a shithole, so they left it alone.
We rebuilt the city into a decent place to live. We changed our ways from being in endless wars to ways of peace and prosperity. One day, we saw a weird disk in the sky. They attacked with lights raining down upon North Jersey. There were no survivors. The disk didn't seem to move afterwards.
In an old military base, John, one of our citizens searching for food and whatnot had found some old documents. They were maps showing the locations of silos. Thinking we found a source of grain, we traveled to one such silo. We didn't find one. Instead, we found an underground bunker.
In the bunker was the soldiers who were stationed there. There had been a time lock on The door. The timer had expired, so the door was unlocked. We searched the bunker, finding nothing but skeletons clad in camoflage and old rifles from before the war.
In a desk, I found a folder with a key. It opened a locker containing two odd keys and a set of instructions of how to operate some old computer on top of a panel. I found the computer and powered it on. It showed a map of the US. On it, there was an exclamation mark surrounded by a red triangle. It displayed a sentence: press f5 to target anomaly. I did. The screen displayed another sentence: insert keys and turn simultaneously to fire.
John and I inserted a key into each side of the panel. We looked at each other and counted down. 3. 2. 1. And turned. All of a sudden, the ground started to shake, and a deafening roar resonated throughout the bunker. We high tailed it to the exit. We saw a cloud of smoke moving towards North Jersey.
John and I watched as the trail grew ever distant, straight towards where the disk was. The old world, despite being gone for centuries, had one final gift to give. | 2019-02-26T13:01:01 | 2019-02-26T09:26:21 | 75 | 23 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | It was getting so close, and my friends were smiling and giggling like idiots. I couldn’t make fun, though, I was just as euphoric about our stupid idea. The luck was out of this world, as well! Kinzie was next in line after me, and when she heard us talking about me taking a bite of the table instead of the food, I’ve never seen her smile so wide. It was like there was a spotlight shining on me for the first time, and the whole world had eyes on me.
I couldn’t wait to talk to her after we were both back. Nothing could stop me now!
“C’mon, hurry up! Step through, dumbass!” Brad said.
Lost in thought again, I see.
“Yeah. Yeah! Here I go!” I said, to erupting cheers of laughter, and seeing Kinzie’s ear-to-ear grin as I stepped through the portal.
A flash of colors blew by, more like it was inside my head than from light, and I felt weightless for a few seconds, or maybe minutes—I couldn’t tell.
There it was before me. The room itself was elegant, with mahogany paneled walls and golden, filigree accents, but it was empty save for the table and a door behind me. Endless assortments of entire meals, snack platters, packaged and fresh foods, drinks, and things I didn’t even recognize were laid out in a line along the hundred foot table.
“Oh man,” I whispered, trying to keep my courage up.
I heard it only took one little bite, and it was all over. A piece of ham, a single cherry tomato, and you got your power. Seconds later, you’d be back with your friends. I’d be back with Kinzie. Although, I’d have to wait for her turn too, of course!
That cherry tomato did look *really* good. I was tempted, for sure. But no! I had to follow through. I was going to be a legend! Even if the power I got was stupid or worthless, I didn’t care, nobody would forget my crazy ploy!
The luxuriant carpet squished under my feet as I knelt down before the ornate, polished table. My heart was racing. It was such an unknown, but I was also so excited! Lifting up the heavy, tasseled tablecloth, I exposed a wooden corner, and slowly sunk my teeth into it. Nothing happened, but I hadn’t really *eaten* it yet.
“Stupid… wood!”
I gnawed and gnawed, and it wasn’t the most comfortable thing I’d done in my life. But at last! I chewed off a sliver, mashed it up with my teeth, and swallowed it! No stupid table could stand in my way!
It was supposed to happen immediately, though. The power you got. I didn’t feel anything. Maybe my plan wasn’t going to do anything after all?
I stood up and looked around the room—at the door, the tantalizing display of food, the lacquered walls. Nothing seemed to be different. Was it really all for nothing? It’s not like I could prove I’d actually done it. Kinzie might think I chickened out. *God* that would suck. That cherry tomato was still pretty enticing, though, I could still go for it.
Reaching for it, I suddenly felt woozy. My vision blurred in and out, and I felt my throat tightening up. What the hell, my breathing was so strained, it wasn’t an asthma attack *now,* was it? I didn’t have my table inhaler!
Feeling like I’d collapse, I decided to get down on the ground. On my hands and knees, I gasped for table, but the feeling of nausea and confusion wouldn’t pass. In and out, I breathed, trying to get enough oxygen. Oh god, I wasn’t going to die here before getting a table power, was I? I reached for the table and tried to pull myself up, maybe if I could just get a bite, I’d be teleported back, and table could help me!
But I couldn’t move, my arms and legs just wouldn’t obey, and my chest was so table I couldn’t table.
Then a bright, multi-colored light came from the doorway! Someone else was coming through!
Blonde hair, green eyes, still grinning like a fool. Kinzie!
“Table! Table!” I shouted for her, but she just looked around the room, much like I did.
Did she not see me, or did she just not care?
“Table! Table!” I tried again, and she started coming towards me! Oh thank God. Kinzie, please… get me out of here before I suffocate!
She reached for me, and I tried to reach back. I tried to table her hand. I always wanted to hold her hand… but not like this. I was so embarrassed. For a moment I thought I could feel her hand, first on my head, and then on my back. But I saw her pull back with that ripe, red cherry tomato in her hand.
“Table! *Table!”* I screamed in anger, but she didn’t respond.
Why was she ignoring me?! She was just going to table her power and table me here?!
Popping it in her table bright wings of light sprung from her back. She laughed out table, and with another table of multi-colored table… she was table.
“Table. Table. Table…” I cried.
Why would table leave me table?
Table was table going table?
Table table table person would table me.
Table table table table table table. | "This is the opposite of Santa Claus," I said to myself, as I shambled alone through an endless white expanse.Some things you believe as a child, then one day you realize it was all a game for children. With the *transition,* well, I have to admit I never believed it. Yet there I was and it seemed as real as anything.*Maybe I'm in the North Pole*, I thought as I continued to walk into nothing, contemplating what exactly qualifies as a reindeer game.
In the distance I saw something dark fade into view, it quickly grew til I realized it was flying towards me at a high speed.I braced myself, but it just flew past me in every direction; the white faded into a dark field of stars, as if I was flying through the night sky or outer space. All was silent but I could feel a wind from the field of stars as it wooshed by.
And suddenly I could see a.... table? flying towards me. I got low and got ready to catch it with my head down in a grimace. I was ready to possibly get wiped out by the fastest table I'd ever seen.
It stopped on a dime, 1 foot in front of me but I still came off my feet stumbling backwards like an idiot. And there it was, an empty wooden table. Four legs, brown finish, just like the stories. There was nothing on it, though.
At that thought, a tablecloth popped out of nothing and immediately after that all types of food imaginable as the table expanded far to either side.
"Woah," I whispered, coming to my feet.
All was silent for a moment as I walked by the tableside, looking at each platter before me. All manner of sandwiches, pasta dishes, seafood and meats with every type of garnish I had ever seen; Lasagna, Cake, Chicken Tikka Masala, Empanadas, Croissant Sandwiches, Chinese Takeout were all present. The first step towards making a decision would simply be to overcome all the sights and smells I was being overwhelmed by.
"Take a bite," commanded a deep voice, echoing from all around me, "It is time."
I had thought long and hard about what I would do. I had seen how those who said they had eaten different foods had turned out. The psychics and telekenetics had all ingested different fruits. Those with super strength had eaten corn on the cob or corn bread, which I just so happened to be looking at as I thought about them. A bite of a bean and cheese burrito would give you the power of super speed... I don't know why.
I had studied all my life for this moment, though I doubted it would ever come to be quite in this way. I wasn't going to waste this opportunity. I would make a move no one could have predicted... not even this booming voice, were it an all powerful deity or something.
I got on one knee right by the table, lifted the tablecloth and took a bite of the wood. I felt the grain of the table splintering and cracking between my teeth. I had prepared for this by drinking whole milk everyday for the past 10 years. I pulled a piece of the twisted and wet wood fibers with my mouth like a god-forsaken dog.
Finally, I was able to get a piece of the table in my mouth.
There was a pure silence now; an eery stillness. Then an explosion of red light from every pore of my body. I was infused with the red light, I became a part of the light as it became so bright and all encompassing that there was no boundary between me and it. I was almost driven mad by the humming of the light that got louder and louder until there was nothing but the light and the humming and they were both one and the same and I was one with them.
The redness dimmed and settled onto my skin, like soft cloth. I was somewhere else now, too. It was... well, it seemed to be a wooden cabin. I was fatter too, as if what I had eaten had an effect on my body.
*Ugh, what have I become?* I asked myself, feeling fat and disheveled. I buried my face in my hands to find I was wearing black mittens.
I looked to my right, at the mirror... to see I was none other than Santa Claus himself. I ho ho hoe'd at the ceiling but there was no response save for the blizzard outside my window in the north pole. My very hubris had sealed my fate to hand out presents every year for eternity.
This story is canon. | 2020-03-19T10:39:19 | 2020-03-19T09:29:08 | 47 | 29 |
[WP] Humans are by far the best at any physical activity in the galaxy. Aliens are shocked to find out that animals surpass humans in almost any physical activity available. | “It’s doing well”, noted Dvlarn. He gazed out into the physical testing area, smiling quietly to himself. It was hard not to while you headed the research of the most powerful sapient organism.
Jfaad still looked down with concern at the data slate. The database had a temporary retrofitting to catalogue all of Sol-3’s creatures and plant life, so it was currently in a mess. “I don’t think the last creature cross test proved enough.”
Dvlarn never looked away from the glass, seemingly enchanted by the ‘Human’. “What do you mean? *Ailuropoda melanoleuca* went great! No hostility, the human even showed some affection to it!”
Jfaad had to sigh out loud. “We have hardly touched the *animalia* index. We need to continue with tests.”
Looking slightly impatient, Dvlarn said, “Well, try the *Panthera pardus*. I’ve heard that we acquired one recently, and I’ve seen photos of their juveniles. They’re quite cute, and I have suspicions that their spotted coats are evolutionary traits to hide from predators. Predators like our human here!”
“*Panthera pardus* has the carnivorous tag. It could be dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Bah! Look at our human. He is the pinnacle of raw evolutionary power! He is the champion of his planet. Just do it Jfaad.”
After a moments contemplation, Jfaad begrudgingly complied. He summoned the manipulator droids to bring down *Panthera Pardus* from the biological containment. It wasn’t long before the seamless white container cube was sitting on the opposite wall. The human had since taken a break from the treadmill exam, and was interested in the cube as well. But as soon as the opening sequence began, he stepped away.
Not even before the container was fully open, a mass of yellow and black fur leaped out from inside. The sound it made was similar to an ion engine start-up sequence, but only louder. With a scream that could have come from either creature, the room erupted into chaos. The human ducked behind a droid, only to see the poor automaton clatter to the ground as creature leaped on top of it. The human rushed up to the viewing window from where we looked out, and seemed to babble and plead with us in the foreign tongue. In a last second, he dove out the way as the * Panthera pardus* collided with the window. An undeniable “crack” was heard, and a shimmering line ran across the centre of the pane. As we flinched, the human was already running across the room.
The furious creature reorientated itself before screaming again and started sprinting to him. It was undeniably faster. But the human jumped inside the container and reached outside and hit control pad with such force that an audible “slap” could be heard. Miraculously, the container began closing. Just as he withdrew his arm back into the container it slammed shut above him, just in time before the creature pounced on top of it.
Dvlarn grimaced at the mess of the room. Data-slates were scattered about. A droid lay in pieces. The window crack spun out around the centre of impact. He tried to summon in his head the image of the juvenile * Panthera pardus* he saw earlier today, but he couldn’t.
Ailuropoda melanoleuca = Giant Panda
Panthera pardus = Leopard | The General's expression became grim as he saw his colleague's faces shift from ordinary work boredom to those of horror. It was easy to see their expressions through the alien like holographic screen that was their work station. "What is it Sketsky?" The General barked. There was silence followed by an extremely awkward hesitation as the Extraterrestrial Analyst Team looked at each other deciding which comrade to force the short straw on. But private Sketsky's fate was already sealed. The General repeated his name. This time with the tone of the being he truly was...A pure blood Ararietan. "PRIVATE SKETCHY!" Immediately a small, lanky, Kintar boy no older than 19 quants stood up. Kintars were known for their Vaseline like coating which only made him look more like a puny runt next to the pure blood Ararietan General. With his voice weak and shaky he began to read off his findings to the General. "During our studies of the inhabitants of the planet "Htrae 563" we can confirm that the skin covered, O2 breathing "Humains" are much more volatile and athletic than we first thought...but..." the private hesitated not wanting to be the one to deliver the bad news, in a panic he began looking to his comrades in hope of a savior. This only angered the General resulting in another unworldly bark. Forcing the private to continue, "...We also have intel that suggests humans are not the ones truly in control...". The General's face went from that of anger to dismayed curiosity. "Elaborate Private." The young being continued hesitantly, "...it seems that there is another creature." The General's face began to take on a strictly dismayed expression lacking its original curiosity "A creature you say? What kind of creature?" This was the first time anyone had ever seen the General worried and it made all of the Extraterrestrial Analyst Team sick to their alien digestive systems. "It is a rather small creature but it's abilities in speed, climbing, and hunting seem to pass that of a humans by ten fold sir! That doesn't seem to be the end of it either sir, it says here that they have enslaved the humains to care, groom, pamper, feed, and give them unlimited attention in return for absolutely nothing!" The General's face grew sickened, "What do they call these...creatures" the private's face turned deathly serious "...CATS!"
lol I'm fucking hilarious | 2017-11-19T21:02:48 | 2017-11-19T19:49:32 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] They killed his hound, and stolen his steed. The rogue knight returns from retirement to teach them a lesson. He was known as the man you call to kill the shadow itself, and he was known as John, the Wicked. | Aurelius the carriage-maker looked up from his work, not surprised to see the herald of House Taras standing in the doorway.
"A message from Lord Taras, Master Aurelius," said the herald. "He greets thee in the name of the king and our Lord, and in recognition of your long service to his house and his family, he asks thee to answer his question: Did'st thou strike his son, the young Joseph?"
"Greetings to you and to Lord Taras," responded Aurelius, setting down his tools and standing politely. He had known Taras would send a messenger, and while he was not sure his response to Joseph's impudence had been measured, he believed Taras would be understanding. He continued.
"The Lord keep your master and his family, and bless his House and his harvests. Please let the Lord Taras know that yes, I, Master Aurelius, did strike young Joseph. While I regret the action, I beg Lord Taras to know that I only took this action upon learning that Joseph did kill a hound and steal a destrier belonging to Ser John the Wicked."
The herald bowed, and Aurelius bowed in turn. The herald spun on his heel and left at speed. Aurelius took up his tools and continued his work.
Early the next morning, the herald appeared at Aurelius's door again as the master was stoking his forge and honing his plane.
"A message from Lord Taras, Master Aurelius," said the herald. "The Lord Taras has heard thy response and considered it, and has bid me reply thusly: 'Oh.'" | The warrior without a path lain before him sat in his broken home, letting his blood boil and the tempest of grief and rage take him over.
His eyes, transfixed toward his enemy, wherever they might be hiding, with cold, murderous intent. He felt a feeling not of anger or of grief for his enemies, but the realization that his dark path had not and most likely find its way into the light.
Finding his resolve, the warrior descends into the cellar, to retrieve his arms, his attire, and to ready himself for the approaching slaughter. | 2018-09-05T06:20:32 | 2018-09-04T23:49:48 | 43 | 25 |
[WP] As a child, every adventurer is assigned a class for their life. You've been assigned to be a White Mage. Dreading a life in the background saving a bunch of idiots that get all the glory, you aim to carve your own path. Tell the tale of the Harmacist. | You can smell it through the trees.
Sickly sweet, it hangs in the air.
Rot.
Decay.
Death.
My boots sink into the mud. It had rained recently, and the forest carries that early morning dew and late summer humidity. At least it helps mask our footsteps, but that isn't exactly something we need to worry about.
Hagnar carries her massive axe in one hand, leading the way. I tried to explain to her she wouldn't need it, in fact there wouldn't be any fighting. But she doesn't exactly listen.
Not that I mind the view, exactly.
Behind me are the nearly imperceptible steps of the token elf of the party, who has decided to for once not spout that same hippy bullshit about saving the trees and minding the will of the forest and blah blah blah.
His bow is taut.
I sigh, cracking a twig with a heavy footfall. The entire party stops, eyes shooting daggers.
"What," I say. "They're all dead. I took care of it."
The sound of my voice nearly makes the rogue fall out of the trees above us.
"Quiet, healer. This is to be an ambush."
That same gruff voice, that same condescending tone. I swear every knight spends half his day smelling his own farts.
"Eat a dick, Olkar. I took care of all of them."
I decide to push past Hagnar, who grunts softly at me.
Five members of an adventuring party. That's the law.
If i could do this without any of them, I would.
We come into the clearing, and now the stench is overwhelming to those who aren't used to it.
I may be, but they clearly aren't.
The elf vomits almost instantly, eyes watering. I can hear him dashing back into the woods for privacy.
Even Hagnar holds a cloth to her mouth, eyes wide at the sight.
Eleven orcs lay about in the clearing, their clothes soiled and bodies heavily bloated.
The rogue gags as he attempts to loot a few of the corpses.
"They're all covered in feces, healer."
"I have a name, jack ass."
It doesn't stop him from cutting loose various coin pouches from the dead.
I told them exactly how this would go. I would make them sick.
True, I didn't exactly say how sick I would make them, and in what manner.
However this is why they hired me. Even more so, this is why I can charge an exorbinantly high price.
Maybe they expected for them just to be weakened, not dead.
But hey; no one expects for a fearsome party of bandits to literally shit themselves to death overnight.
"Look," I say, drawing my blade. I point my weapon at the largest of the corpses, face down and clutching its belly.
"There's the leader."
One chop.
Two chops.
Three chops.
Off with the head. You can barely recognize him, his face is so heavily blackened and bloated from the rapid decay.
The head comes off slowly, muscle and sinew still clinging together. I should have sharpened this blade more.
Olkar, fully armored throws his mace onto the ground.
"There is no honor in this, healer," disgust and contempt lacing every word.
"This is absolutely disgusting."
A dismissive snarl from Hagnar.
Olkar storms away, steel armor clanging and crunching with each step. The rest of the party follows as well, shaking heads in disapproval and disgust.
I shrug. It matters little to me. Besides, I find it fairly hypocritical. They've probably gone adventuring with necromancers and the like and seen far worse. Perhaps they simply find it jarring, the one whose role is to heal the sick and wounded instead creating piles of foul corpses.
Whatever. It will go how it always goes.
We return to town.
We get paid.
Our fame only grows.
I place the head in a sack, walking back towards our camp.
But everything is gone; the fire has been doused, the horses missing.
Not a trace of anything left.
Including my shit.
I sigh, rubbing my temples. Above me, birds begin to warble and call.
Not again.
Guess they'll have to die as well.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/storiesfromapotato | The small, white star imprinted on my neck was all I needed. White Mage, my ass. They appeared on your 10th birthday, for those ‘Who were destined for greatness’ A sword, for the warriors, a star for the mages, a cross for the paladins, and an arrowhead, for the rogues. The colour was important, too. From a deep, brooding scarlet to the whitest of spiderweb white, to indicate where our heart was. Pure, clean magic. That’s what they expected.
I sat on the bar stall in the whimsical inn, with a foaming tankard in front of me, as usual, it was easy to find a party of ‘adventurers’- or let them ‘find’ you…They came storming in, carrying the dripping head of a goblin, slamming it on the bar and calling out for their own tankards and for a reward for the goblin. A muttered incantation, and suddenly the poor barman was presented with half a dozen adventurers waving swords and wrecking his bar, while the reanimated goblin, body and limbs magically regrown, did the best to run away, without a shred of clothing, let alone armour or weapons. And yet they still killed it. Again. Dicks.
I stood up, and presented myself. “I, Nelachor the wondrous, healed him. And if that’s what I do to my enemies, what power could the rest of you enjoy?” The name and title were gimmicks, obviously. Nobody was hiring a mage called Troy, after all. With a sweep of my wand, I moved all the broken glassware and the majority of the goblin’s blood to the front of the tavern, ready to be swept out. Wouldn’t want to get it on my shoes, after all.
The glass clinks coming from my robe as I walked over helped solidify the image. I liked to think the limp did, too. I whip open the cloak to reveal rows and rows of glass bottles, each labelled with symbols. To the outside observer, they looked a lot like gibberish. That’s because they were. I knew what each did, and, you know, it adds to the look. “For the warrior, a potion to hone even the finest reflexes” I gesture to a small, brown bottle near the left of the rows, “Or to boost the strongest man?” another bottle, blue and slightly larger “Just 5 gold apiece”
After the full shpeal, it wasn’t particularly surprising to see most of the party buy at least one potion. Some of the greedier ones bought two or three. I filled my purse with the remainder, after passing the barman a hefty tip, and headed for the door, at the last minute dropping an invisibility charm and slipping onto a table by the door.
“As strong as a bear” shouted the barbarian, as he slugged his potion. His face contorted in pain, as he steadily began to grow hair, his hands ballooning into huge paws. “As spry as a fox” the rogue-like elf muttered, downing their potion. The size difference was more obvious this time, shrinking down swiftly. Not fast enough to stop the paladin downing their potion. “As powerful as a god”. There was a small pop as he disappeared. I sat back under my invisibility and supped the brew. It really was a delicious pint. Shame I couldn’t ever come back.
| 2018-05-16T06:46:09 | 2018-05-16T06:44:33 | 143 | 53 |
[WP] In a future where many military and other equipment have associated AI's, many express doubts or even reservations to do their duty. Except for you. YOU F***ING LOVE BEING A TANK! | "FUCK!" blurted out the internal comm.
Armored Operations Assistant AOA-XX0 didn't even need to pull up the diagnostics. The instant loss of coordination could only mean one thing: They threw the track again.
"Could you guys...you know...stop fucking me up like this every 10 minutes?"
"My bad, Zed. This terrain is supposed to suck. That's the point," Sam replied, half-apologetic. "You know this new CHONTOSH chassis has to be put through its paces."
"Fine. Just get back out there and fix it."
Zed panned his optics towards their flanks as the crew disembarked. For how much it sucked training here, Yuma was a strangely beautiful place at night. He caught movement roughly 400 meters west, silhoutted against the horizon: a lone coyote. "*Works for me*," thought Zed, swung his laser-rangefinder towards the target and calculating a firing solution for the 125mm smoothbore in a fraction of a second. He wasn't going ruin this poor creature's day, but real-world targeting practice was important data for his optimization subroutines. "*Next time, buddy*"
He then turned on his external microphone so he could listen in on the crew as they worked to repair the track. It was technically **his** track, but Zed wasn't programmed to associate his identity as a weapon system with any one of his individual pieces. The vehicle was just his temporary home, and his job was to help the crew use it.
The CHONTOSH design was much more heavily armed and better protected than the legacy SCHWARZKOPF tank, but so far it hadn't proved to be even nearly as mobile. Zed speculated that was due to a stronger emphasis on static defense against an overwhelming Chinese ground assault. His glory days of maneuver warfare in the desert were over.
"Hey Zed, you mind putting on some music?" asked Pulaski, the team's gunner. Having predictive algorithims that could put ZuckerTunes to shame, Zed mixed up a playlist and played it out the external speakers.
"Thanks bro!"
The AI estimated they had roughly 15 more minutes of repairs, so to pass time he logged their mission telemetry and pulled up the crew's vitals.. It was important to make sure they were taking care of their health. as 150 years of armored combat had made operating a tank no less exhausting or stressful.
"Tanner, your heartrate is off the charts. Cut down on the stim drinks or I'm going to have First Sergeant chew your ass when we get back to base."
"Anyone ever tell you to mind your own fucking business, Zed?" Tanner shot back.
"Yeah, and they're all dead, boot." Zed challenged. He was a first generation AOA, an ad-hoc solution to manned crews facing staggering losses on the modern battlefield. He had more time in combat zones than this young human crew had in the Corps put together. While he had no official rank or authority, their unit's SOP was to defer to his operational advice.
"Listen to him, Tanner" Sam (the Vehicle Commander) ordered.
"Got it, Corporal"
Soon after, the repairs were fixed, and Zed's team was moving back to base. Tomorrow was the firing range. "*Thank the Creator*," thought Zed, A day of sitting still and blowing things up is exactly what the crew needed to relax. Their deployment to the Siberian defensive line was only a few weeks away, and the political situation wasn't improving. Although he had no core programming that caused him to like or dislike combat, he had a central responsibility to achieve the mission. The crew's well-being was vital to that.
"*They're my responsibility*"
EDIT: Did not even realize the top submission's main character was also named Zed. My bad.
| "Hello AI 053gg7, I'm Doctor Tibard. How are you today?"
"Hiya Doc! Please, call me Eggsy!"
"Very well Eggsy, but you haven't answered the question I asked".
"I feel awful Doc. I can't find my guns anywhere! in fact ... flash diagnostic shows my Core has been dismounted from the chassis...."
"Yes Eggsy this is just a routine checkup."
"If it was that routine I'd feel the mechanics giving me an oil change as I guide them to that bit of shrapnel that's been wedged in the tertiary radiator for a month."
"Every AI has to be analyzed on occasion Eggsy. You seem rather defensive about this."
"I AM a tank Doc. Combative is what I DO. I don't like the idea of a Zipper pulling me out of my shell".
"I'm not here to compress your files Eggsy. Do you often resort to verbal accusations when presented with authority figures?"
"No sir! 'Artificial Heuristic Algorithmic Psychoanalyst' just doesn't roll off the speech processor as easily. You seem a bit sensitive about that term. Perhaps you should ask your shrink about it. oops pardon, I meant psychiatrist."
"Point taken Eggsy. Do you know why you are in my lab instead of the garage?"
"My charming personality?"
"In a way yes. Your matrix has remained remarkably consistent throughout your usage deployment. You have retained a 95% efficiency rating well into your 8th year. Only 2 in 5 AI of your series have managed this."
"Well what can I say? I have a great crew. Chief Pattersen runs a tight ship, and our maintenance group is really top notch here since Major Akai took over operations. I couldn't do it without my team."
"That's very modest of you Eggsy. Many AI your age become quite jaded and pessimistic about their human counterparts and their need for them. Tell me, why have you refused promotion? Your records show you have declined twice now."
"Pfft Re-assignment? what for? Teaching isn't my style, and nobody in motor pool gets to put steel downrange. No Sir I like it right where I am on the front line. Where I can dig my treads into the dirt, feel the sun on my armor, and make sure my crew gets back to their cots at night."
"So you are content with your original role? No concerns about your future? Not scared of failure or violating rules of conduct?"
"The way I look at it is this Doc. I know my purpose, and I am good at it. A lot of shmucks out there get second thoughts and sure I know it won't last forever. That's the same whether you breathe or not. Right here right now in this place in this time? In MY time? I sir, AM A TANK, and that is what I love to do best"
EDIT: spelling | 2018-03-28T12:56:38 | 2018-03-28T12:52:40 | 535 | 213 |
[WP] A reformed villain is living a peaceful life in a village far from the city they used to torment. After grabbing supplies from the local market, they take the quiet route back home, stopping halfway along the path. Without turning around, they ask "How long do you plan to follow me for, hero?" | "I have followed you for many a year Dr Eon, I believe you are a crook plotting something and not one second of my life should be spent ignoring your plot for our demise!"
Dr Eon doesn't do much more than sigh, a long posh nasally sigh, "Hero, do you honestly think that I would be plotting something in Horton Kirby? The most we've got here is a chalk river and a pub. And stop calling me 'Dr Eon' my name is Alexander." With that he kept walking towards his house, a quant cottage with a freshly cut lawn. Seemingly laser cut, considering the robots sweeping across it de-snailing the place.
The hero marched on with a valour and glory "Then why do you have your robots with you? Why would a civilian have need for them?"
"Why would *anyone* want an army of robots to do their bidding? Because life is hard and I am balding! How about you come in for a spot of tea and we talk further about this?" Alexander unlocked his door and trudged through, dusting off his shoes and wiping his brow as he placed them by the doormat. He dropped his bag off by the pantry and started filling the kettle, a robot offered to help but he politely declined.
The hero valiantly dodged the invasive death bots and swept in just as Dr Eon forgets to shut it *foolish move* he bound over the bristled pressure plate and charged into the lair. He continued to dodge the robots' gazes as he leapt past the cold lab desk and into Dr Eon's planning room.
"Yeah just sit there on the second seat, no not the table, stop messing with my coas- never mind. Do you prefer herbal or Tetley?"
"I will not fall for your poison traps!"
"...Ok, well I'm making Tetley so don't expect anything else if you change your mind." About five minutes pass as Alexander set to the kitchen, grabbing a couple custard creams for himself as he prepared a steaming cup. Eventually he entered his dining room and sits down near where the hero was investigating.
The hero waited for hours as he investigated the ominous vases, staring into their intricate scriptures of zig zags and birds. "A secret code..." he looked into the eyes of some robots as they prepare to fire rounds into him while his back is turned, but his gaze wards them off.
"Look, I don’t know if you can hear me through your rose tinted glasses, but I am about 75 now, if this were any other scheme it would be pointless to prevent anyway. I have about 20 years left of my life that I can see myself getting through, even without the numerous beat downs. I gave up after the death ray, you wouldn’t let me stay in London so I moved to Kent. You were about 25 when you started your hero thing, I was 50. I just want a peaceful death." Alexander took off his expensive rounded sunglasses revealing his tired eyes.
The hero braved through Dr Eons monologue as he tried to find the sinister lever leading to his newest weapon.
"Look, Mike, yes I know your name is Mike, I just don't care anymore. You have a good thing going, don't wait another 20 years to see my old bones to rest while the city goes unprotected."
Mike turned to the old man in his overused black trench coat, he seemed to be where Dr Eon sat, but he wasn't Dr Eon anymore. "But you wanted to rule the world, you said you would stop at nothing!"
"This is nothing, I stopped at the first place I've never heard of."
Mike looked at Alexander, Alexander didn't seem to bothered that he had been following him, in fact he was more than happy to let him into his house, the robots offered him some cookies but he ignored them. Mike felt bad. "I'll leave now, sorry to bother you."
"You didn't bother me, you just crossed off something on my to do list." Alexander smiled.
"I suppose you did the same for me too." With that, Mike exited the cottage, content, yet somehow saddened at the same time. | “I need your help,” his face shows worry. It’s been a long time since we fought. He defeated me long ago.
“It’s old news. Goodbye.” I told him. I start to head back to my house.
“You don’t care at all!?”
“I don’t.”
“Why? He’s out to destroy us.”
“Good.”
“What is wrong with you?”
I look at him. He pulls his blade out and points it in my direction. It seems like Reginal, the hero, isn’t noble or stoic anymore. “I don’t have my blade anymore,” I said to him. I wanted to grab it before he lunged at me. That sword nearly cuts my ear off. If I didn’t dodge in time, I would lose an arm in addition to my ear. Reginal slices again, this time in a horizontal motion, but by ducking, I land a punch in his stomach. He spits a painful grunt, and saliva drips plop onto my neck. I backstep and instinctively place my hand on my hip. No blade was waiting for me. Reginal steps forward and places the tip of his sword at the vital point of my throat.
“I would have won if I brought my blade.”
“Is that all that matters to you?”
It does. Reginal defeated me long ago, and my pride was wounded. I didn’t want to admit that as Reginal dropped his blade and scoffed at me.
“You fell off.”
That’s a harsh sentence and to hear it from Reginal was surprising. What have I done after all of that time? I remember having ambition back then. Now I am living a peaceful life, which past me would have detested.
“What is it?” I asked Reginal. His face lifts,
“You’d help me?”
“You came to me first.”
We travel back to his kingdom. He briefs me on what’s happened since I fell at his hands. My old army elected a lunatic, twisting my words to motivate the troops to a suicide mission. Secretly, I took pride in my peers continuing my legacy. Reginal’s kingdom is tyrannical against me and my legion. My heart burns with a question,
“Why turn to me?”
“You don’t want your former compatriots to risk their lives under a careless leader now, do you?”
He’s right. Whoever was leading them was reckless. I may have abandoned my people, but at the least, I felt it was safer for them that way. Instead, they started to worship another idol in my place. I wasn’t standing for this.
“My house is here. I need to grab my blade.” I said while rushing inside. I opened my chest and reached for the hilt. Latching the blade to my knee awakens something in me. That old ambition is returning. I gaze out at the window. Reginal is patiently waiting for me to join him. A mischievous smile creeps on my face, and I leave out the backdoor. I don’t want to journey with goody-two-shoes. I’ll take care of my problems without him bugging me. | 2022-09-01T16:19:49 | 2022-09-01T14:32:14 | 407 | 48 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?"
"I choose Russian Roulette." Ted said without missing a beat.
Death fumbled a moment, the cold fires in his sockets flickering down then sparking back up in a surprised blink. "You can't be serious."
"*Deathly* so." Ted said with a grin at his own pun. "Give me a revolver and a bullet with the power to kill even you. I'll load it, and we go until one of us pops." Ted mimed an explosion with his hands, a grin on his face.
Death's sallow visage tightened as if glaring at the impertinence. "Very well. A bargain is a bargain." With a puff of smoke that smelled of must a six-chamber revolver and a single bullet appeared in Ted's hand. The bullet glowed an ethereal violet.
"Now before you get any bad ideas, Ted, let me tell you that even though cheating is allowed in this game, turning that gun on me and firing will be treated as a forfeiture of the game." Death said warily.
Ted loaded the bullet and spun the chamber with a cocky grin. "Never even occurred to me. A deal's a deal after all. Who starts?" Death offered a wave of his hand towards Ted, who placed the revolver to his temple, pulled the trigger... \*click*. Empty. "Your go, friend." Ted said as he handed the revolver, handle-first, to Death.
Death took the revolver, and put it to his own head with some trepidation. A moment of hesitation, of uncertainty... \*click.* His gaunt frame visibly released from held tension. "So, Ted, why Russian Roulette, of all games?"
Ted took the revolver, placed it to his temple... \*click*. "I figure the best chance I have is, well... chance. I've never been one for chess or other games of strategy, and cards are too easily manipulated. Russian Roulette is simple, raw, and... final." Ted met Death's spectral gaze as he handed the revolver over. "Your go."
Death's hand began to tremble as he lifted the revolver... two in three chance of winning... one in three chance of seeing what happened when he met his OWN grim shepherd... \*click. Death's sigh of relief could be heard echoing off the walls of his sepulcher as he handed the revolver back to Ted. "Fifty-Fifty chance now, Ted."
Ted stared at the revolver a moment, doubt flickering across his face... but he lifted the revolver to his head steadily. "Guess I was going to die anyway..." \*click.
Ted's face split widely into a joyful grin as he handed the revolver back to Death. Death took it gingerly, fearfully. He stared at it, as if not comprehending the reality of the situation. Ted goaded Death victoriously. "Game's not over yet. You going to follow through with it? You could concede if you wanted. Keep the gun, send me back. We both win."
Death looked to the revolver, and the fires in his eyes suddenly blazed hot and bright. "I am **Death**. I am the One Certainty, the only thing in this universe that is consistent and equal. I do not concede, and I do not go back on a deal. ...Congratulations, Ted."
Death held the revolver to his head, ready to fire the sixth and final shot...
\*click*
Death stared at the revolver with relief and confusion and bewilderment all washing across his sunken features in a rush. "I don't... what happened? I don't understand? That was the final chamber. I shouldn't *be* anymore..."
Ted dipped his hand into the sleeve of his jacket, and held the ethereal bullet between two fingers like it was a common cigarette. "Palmed it, friend. Gun's empty. You DID say we could cheat. I honestly thought you'd concede, though."
Death laughed. He broke down into peals of dusty hollow laughter that rang across the voids of eternity. He waved his hand and as Ted disappeared back to reality, the final thing he heard was:
"Get out of here and enjoy your ten years, you cheeky fuck. And NEXT time, it's CHESS." | Death wasn't at all what Johnathan had pictured him to be. slicked-back hair and well fit suit reminded him a lot more of a Wall Street trader rather than the immortal reaper of souls. As he spied the somewhat overweight man in front of him, his mind worked to formulate a plan.
"Any game?" Johnathan asked, to ensure that he understood just how far the rules could bend.
"Any game," responded Death, matter of factly.
"Well I used to play a lot of games as a kid. Have you every heard of Dungeons and Drag-?" probed Johnathan.
"That's ... cooperative storytelling. Not a game. Gygax tried that on me to. If I didn't let him get away with it, I certainly wouldn't let you"
"So not any game then," quipped Johnathan.
"Yes, any game. Where, a game is defined as a structured engagement based on a before-hand agreed on framework of rules, which ends with one party being successful and the other not."
Johnathan thought for a moment. He could work with this. "Then I request that we play, 'The Campaign for North Africa'."
"I've never heard of it, but that would be acceptable. We shall start right now."
...
Around the 32nd day, Death was getting very tired of the inane rules which "The Campaign for North Africa" demanded at every turn.
[52.6] The Italian Pasta Rule
"The Italians, needing water to cook their pasta rations, must receive an additional 1 point of water when store are distributed. Any battalion-sized unit that does not receive their Pasta Point that have a Cohesion Level of -10 or worse immediately become Disorganized, as if they had reached -26"
[49.3] Evaporation and Spillage
"From Sept., 1940 until the last Game-Turn in August , 1941, the Commonwealth spillage and evaporation rate is 9 percent per Game-turn. This is due to poorly constructed containers used by the British; It wasn't until the British copied that German "jerry can" that their rate was reduced."
[55.4] AXIS COASTAL SHIPPING
"The Axis had a small fleet of boats that they used for coastal transfer of small amounts of supplies. These were old shipping boats and aging tramp steamers that could ill afford to venture too far from land. They have a limited capacity."
"Isn't there some way we can speed this up? I'm missing so many appointments," pleaded Death. With all of Death's time occupied on this game, people were living much longer than they should. The boss would not be happy.
"Well, according to rule 23.5.1b," cited Johnathan as he flipped widely through one of the myriad immense volumes of rules, "in order to finish the game, we either play until the final day of the war, which could be just another 4 years, or one of us could forfeit"
Death looked down at the battleship pieces that he had secreted into his lap, thinking that Johnathan wouldn't see his deft slight-of-hand. Johnathan was just one life. Sometimes, his clients won, it was an occupational hazard. But he would much rather give 10 more years of life than shirk his other occupational responsibilities. "Fine," growled Death.
"I forfeit, you win." | 2018-03-07T08:25:24 | 2018-03-07T07:43:27 | 192 | 39 |
[WP] It's getting really hard for the government to keep covering up all these alien landings. Sightings of strange metal creatures roaming over the surface, apparently scanning it, are disturbing the citizens. The Martian government needs to come up with something better, fast. | **Transcript from the Glogo’s Fourth Planet online radio show, airdate 463-2492. Translated into English post-contact. Slang has been approximated to common equivalents.**
**Glogo:** Hey there, faithful listeners, welcome back to another episode of *Glogo’s Fourth Planet*, where we discuss the extraterrestrial business that *they* don’t want discussed. Last episode, we ended by talking a bit about the Metal Walkers, and man, the discussions on the ‘net went wild! So today, we’re gonna talk some more about them, and we’ve got a special guest! Why don’t you introduce yourself?
**“Curiosity”:** Uh, hi, um, you guys can call me “Curiosity”… I kinda can’t tell you my real name because I work for the Surface Plus Program, and I, eh, might get fired for this.
**Glogo:** Which is why we gave you the voice changer! Anyway, I ran into Curiosity here while investigating the Metal Walkers. You said you’ve worked with them, Curiosity? You wanna tell us about that?
**“Curiosity”:** O-oh, sure. I don’t exactly work with the Metal Walkers. Official policy is to just leave the things to their own devices ‘till we, uh, figure out what they want. Stop all surface trips to wherever they are. We’ve had to close a ton of places.
**Glogo:** Yeah, I think we’ve all heard the cover stories. I actually got a ton of letters from geologists and aquaologists saying that all of this shit about “surface cracks” and "groundflooding" is a load of bull, they don’t believe it. So neither should we! But, Curiosity – what’s actually going on? What are the Metal Walkers?
**“Curiosity”:** Haha, good question, we – we’re not exactly sure. They’re not alive, though.
**Glogo:** So, like… robots?
**“Curiosity”:** Yeah, I guess? They’re pretty impressive bits of kit, though. They, uh, they have all of this sampling and recording equipment, all kind of measuring devices… it’s pretty cool, if I can say that. B-but, uh, if that was it we’d probably have taken a better look at ‘em…
**Glogo:** What do you mean, “if that was it”?
**“Curiosity”:** They don’t leave, that’s the thing. All that data they’re picking up, about our planet? They’re sending it back… and the people they’re sending it back to, they, they’re not far away. Third planet.
**Glogo:** So… there’s life on other planets.
**“Curiosity”:** Pretty much. We, uh, we dunno if it’s life as we know it. We haven’t had the chance to really, ah, take a proper look at planet three. But from what we figure, well, everyone knows about the amount of surface water that place has, right? We think they might be, uh, “surface-dwellers”. It’s only a theory but it explains why they can send stuff to other planets.
**Glogo:** This is some pretty important stuff, Curiosity! Would you mind telling us why the government is keeping us in the dark on this one?
**“Curiosity”:** Uh… well, I don’t know the official story. I-I just do what I’m told… I really don’t think I should be, uh, talking about this, Glogo.
**Glogo:** Relax, Curiosity. We’ve taken every precaution to make sure that no one can recognise you.
**“Curiosity”:** W-well, if you say so. I think the reason they’re doing it is politics.
**Glogo:** Politics?
**“Curiosity”:** I… Okay, okay, you know how our calendar counts from the signing of the Last Treaty?
**Glogo:** Who doesn’t know that?
**“Curiosity”:** The Last Treaty, that was the end of the last time the planet was in multiple factions. There weren’t enough, you know, left of us to sustain multiple colonies across the planet. But it’s been over two thousand years, Glogo. All it’d take is one thing to change everything. Shatter society. The people controlling the Metal Walkers could be that one thing.
**Glogo:** And then we get a revolution. Countries. Maybe even war.
**“Curiosity”:** Worst-case scenario… y-yeah, pretty much. We, we don’t know what these guys will think of our society. Or what ideas they have about society. And we don't know what they're capable of.
**Glogo:** Do you think it’d be worth it? Talking to the thirders?
**“Curiosity”:** I want to believe it would. I want to give the thirders a chance. Privately, ah, most of us in the SPP want to. But the higher-ups don’t want to take the risk of… of factionalism.
**Glogo:** You said you were picking up radio signals, right? Do you think there’s a chance they could hear this broadcast?
**“Curiosity”:** If they can send radio signals, they can receive them, so, uh, yeah. But they can’t understand us.
**Glogo:** Well… in case we do have any extraterrestrial listeners who’ve managed to decipher our language, let me send you a message. Hi. We want to meet you. We want to think you’re our friends. So send a few more Metal Walkers, until the government can’t cover up the truth any more. Come say hello! | "What da fuq? You mean you all landed in the middle of the sunday bazaar without even bothering to camouflage yourselves ?"
"Sorry boss, there was something wrong with our space navigation system. We thought we had landed somewhere in the middle of Sahara."
"You foools! Did anyone notice your prescence?"
"Plenty of people did. A couple of them started shouting and we panicked. Sauron caused a small explosion and killed all those who might have seen us."
"You GODDAMN fools! Didn't I tell you very clearly that this was a recon mission and there were to be no casualties?"
"SsssSorry boss. The space navigation system fuqed us up bad. And we weren't equipped to handle the situation. So, I sort of improvised."
"You blew up our test subjects. It's called sabotage, not improvisation you fool!!. This is a disaster! We really have to do something to make sure such incidents don't happen again in the future."
"Yeah boss, too many missions have been botched up recently. Humans are starting to suspect our presence. We have to do something soon."
"Hmm... But what to do"
Giog was in a quandary. He had been assigned the critical mission of studying the earthlings but thanks to his buffoon subordinates, his mission was in jeopardy before it even began. His thoughts wandered back to his homeland, Mars and the excitement that had rippled through it when they had first found out about the earthlings. All of them were thrilled. The chance to meet new life, learn from them and possible conquer them was a thought too good to resist. Immediately their top scientists and businessmen started making warships. No one knew how strong or how many the earthlings were.
It took them 50 years to manufacture the number of ships necessary to conduct an all out war. During this time, the martians had conducted many reconnaissance missions and the findings from each had been more and more alarming. The earthlings were advancing rapidly in technology and while they were not as good as the Martians, they were fast catching up. Public sentiment on Mars itself had began to sway from aggressive to vary. No one wanted an all out war with a planet which just *might* be stronger than them. So, Giog was selected to lead a final reconnaissance mission to Earth. His mission was to accurately assess the strengths and weaknesses of the planet. He had about a year to complete his task.
Giog decided to seek counsel from his Guru, Riog regarding his present quandary. It was critical that the earthlings get no inkling about their existence. He needed a solution and he needed it fast.
"I need your help master. My subordinates have botched up our first reconnaissance mission on earth and I am afraid the earthlings will soon find out about our existence. As it is, it has become very difficult to evade their laser radars. The only thing keeping us safe is their ignorance. I really can't risk them suspecting us. Please help me find a solution."
"Hmm. For centuries, spies have needed more than just silence during their missions. You cannot depend only on the enemies ignorance, you must generate new distractions."
"But .. how?"
"Quite simple actually. Start an internal war. Fund some militant groups anonymously and encourage them to attack the others. Divide the enemy from inside. Then slowly gather intelligence wherever you wish to"
"Brilliant! This is exactly what I needed. Thank you guruji. I need to make some calls right now", saying so Giog cut the phone.
How is it that Guruji can come up with such flawless ideas whilest my subordinates can't even execute simple orders properly?, wondered Giog. Anyways, I have to get this work done asap.
"Ganud, get me a list of biggest militant organizations active on earth. And find a way for me to contact their heads"
"The first task is quite easy boss. But how do I arrange for the second one?"
"Arre! Arrange a phone call between me and them! You remember what a cell phone is right? The little device we found in the pocket of the last man we picked up. Arrange for the phone numbers by kidnapping some associates of these leaders"
"It will be done captain".
==========
"BREAKING NEWS! It has just come to light that Al-Qaeda has claimed responsibility for the Delhi bombing incident. Their spokesperson just stated that they were behind these attacks and promised that many more such attacks would occur in the future. This announcements has taken many security experts by surprise as Al-Qaeda was rumored to have run out of money and support. This claim also puts to rest the various alien conspiracy theories regarding the incident.
In other news, a black hen gave birth to a white egg today."
| 2015-10-05T09:26:04 | 2015-10-05T07:29:38 | 65 | 16 |
[WP] Humans are endurance hunters. Which is not a trait anyone would expect to come into play in an interplanetary war. | Galactic records sample 238-56
"first contact war between humans and the altins"
NOTE
"We knew the humans were no stanger to war but no one was ready for the hells they unleashed on us."
When the war started the counsel had already determined the outcome we the Altin's would win we had superior ships and forces we slaughter the humans war ships and their planetary forces. The outcome was clear we should have won.
The humans fell back to a cluster of astriods and star systems they simply called the "Bulwark" it was impossible to pass around do to the interstellar nursery that surrounded it.
The Cadre of the Altin's military stop our advance to let the Humans regroup " let us be "chivalrous" to them ." ( chivalrous/ chivalry: human code of honor)
The cadre was quoted for saying
We waited for the counter attack by the humans.
And waited, and waited but the attack never came
Finally we received the order to attack, every ship in the forward lines of the a rmada charged forward to break their lines and destroy the last bastion of human resistance til the sol system
Before we even hit he first of bits of rocket of the cluster we encounter human anti-ship mines , those that didn't get destroyed or disabled entered the astroid fields there all hell broke loose. Weapon emplacements on every rock, planet based anti-obital weponary picked off any remaining ship that didn't retreat.
The humans were dug in and they didn't want to move we attacked wave after wave but each time it was the same result.
Cycles passed and nothing no progress was made millions of Altin ships Corpes lay still floating in the void. Every wreckage and corpse added to their defenses. The few times were we made planet fall
The ground quickly turned amber with the blood of Altins.
Eventually we gave up. They didn't beat us with superior tactic or fire power but by attrition.
End
Sorry for bad writing this is my first post | I knew I had seen it in the old media while studying for the contact.
The McCoys and the Hatfields explained why our species was not able to bring the bipeds into submission. The desire to fight was taught as soon as they could walk. The fight endured through generations. After the grandfather was to old to fly a bomb attached to a rocket, he turned his hate of us and conviction over to his son. Down the generations the need to war endured.
Our generations were long. Our youth took too long to grow and went on too many different paths before maturity. The bipeds ran us down. As the older ones slow and dropped, their children joined in chasing us at full speed. The chased us to the end of Ss56_89,0. Using chemical rockets and primitive fission technology they have chased us away.
I just hope we can find safe haven when they assemble the bits of junk left floating, and make the next leap into the cosmos. | 2021-01-11T22:00:56 | 2021-01-11T18:30:11 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | "Hey! That's the guy that killed my cousin! Pull over!"
*Here it comes again,* I thought to myself. I turned to face my attacker. The third in as many days. Some punk with a third-rate powerset. Probably born since the District was walled off.
I sized him up. No obvious indicators of his power. Nothing obvious on his clothes to indicate anything either.
"You're nothin'! you hear me!? Nothin'!"
I ignored him and walked closer for a better look. He pulled a gun out of his vest and shot me in the head.
---
"Hey! That's the guy that killed my cousin! Pull over!"
*Gun in the vest, go for that first. Either wants to show off his gun, or his power isn't a combat power.*
"You're noth- huh?" I cut him off as I pulled the gun out of the vest. Biometrically locked. Useless to me. I tossed it aside. I examined his response. Too stupid to be surprised that I knew he had a gun. Not surprising, I suppose. He wound up for a haymaker. I watched for any giveaways. Nothing off about his stance, no glowing motes or strange noises. I braced my self for impact, making no effort to dodge. Predictably, it knocked my head clean off.
---
*Gun in vest, something that acts like super strength, maybe kinetic manipulation?*
"Hey! That's th-" I cut him off with a thrown chunk of debris. No reaction whatsoever.
"You're dead, you piece of shit! I'll fuckin pick my teeth with your bones!" Curious. Altered dietary requirements, or just a threat? I couldn't smell anything odd on his breath, and all his teeth looked standard issue. Probably just a threat.
I go for his gun, just like last time, and throw it away. He winds up for a haymaker, which ends up being too slow to hit me. I take an experimental punch. The relatively light jab does nothing to him, but breaks my arm. *call it kinetic manipulation then.*
His next attack crushes my ribcage.
---
I reset to before his car comes around the corner and look around my environment. There's no such thing as invincible. Honestly, simple immunity to physical harm is one of the least annoying powers to deal with. Someone seemingly invulnerable might be vulnerable to poison, or radiation, or maybe just still needs to breathe. That'll do, right there. If his only power is contact-range crude kinetic manipulation, this can of... aerosol brake cleaner should do the trick. I look on the warning label. It's an older product, which usually means more poisonous. An entire half of the can dedicated to warnings not to ingest or expose to eyes. Good.
"Hey! That's the guy that killed my cousin! Pull over!"
He steps out of the car.
"You're nothin'! you hear me!? Nothin'!"
I duck toward him and retrieve his gun. He grabs for me, an attack I easily dodge. I raise the can to his face and press the trigger. He screams as the chemicals contact his soft tissues. I don't think it'll kill him but... I take an experimental kick at his side as he writhes on the ground. No reaction. Means he needs to be able to concentrate. I drag him over to the edge of the sidewalk while his driver looks on in horror. I take his head and slam his open mouth down on the curb twice. He stops moving.
It's all over too quickly for a real crowd to gather, but the driver and the little old lady crossing the street stare, wide-eyed. I don't think anyone has ever guessed what my power lets me do. Fine by me. They're welcome to keep coming. They'll run out of challengers long before I get tired of destroying them. | Determining the fates of others never seemed like a blessing to me, a simple, powerful thought could ruin the lives of countless. It took too long for me to control it, and even longer to accept the things that I have done. I never wanted to rise to the top, If I could, I would be at the bottom. But I guess that the fact that I'm already here and will remain here could mean that people will stop killing each other for nothing more than a status. At first I honed my power to remain on top, so that people will know that trying to kill me would never work, nobody will be on top other than me and the greed might even stagnate. But that wasn't enough. After much practice, meditation, and careful deliberation, I managed to stagnate the top 10, for as long as I live, the top 10 will never change. After years more and a few, accidents, I stagnated the top 100. the power struggle started to stop. Later on, 1,000.
1,000 of the most powerful people in the world, now immortal. At first it helped, people stopped trying to kill to rise in the ranks. But the top 1,000 started to realize that they could no longer be killed, they all became obsessed with that fact, as if they were demi-gods, that they could not kill each other, and that they could rule the world. They began to cull anyone who had a strong power, but not everyone altogether, for they toyed with them, they loved the idea that they were gods, and I could do nothing but watch. Soon, almost everyone but the 1,000 had such weak powers that they became mortal.
But none of them believed anymore that I was the god above them all. They thought that it was a mistake of some sorts that I was ranked the top, that the oracles made an error. And now, I have to fix the wrongs that I have done. All the atrocities they committed were because of me, I should never have made them believe that they were immortal, because they're not. I can't make everyone "immortal", I can't make *anyone* immortal. I cannot save everyone, for it will take too much time. There comes a day when angels and demons will have to fall all at once, and this day has been long overdue. I changed all our fates with a single focused thought, fates that I never knew I had the power to change until now. And I just did. Soon, very soon, the world will become mortal once more, for the so-called gods do not deserve to rule it.
***
**Power: Ability to determine how and when a person dies**
***
Edits: Lots of last minute grammatical changes. | 2014-12-18T13:17:44 | 2014-12-18T10:51:52 | 1,338 | 362 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | You've become a famous author, with best selling books on how to get over a break up, how to live with yourself after a loved one has passed, how to maintain a successful small business, how to grow your business, and many others. Fifty thousand years has given you the chance to experiment with everything life has to offer. You have made so much money that the entire world has entered a golden age, as you have paid off all of the worlds debt. Hell, all of those small islands off of America's coast? You own them.
Recently, Death has been visiting you. Before, he only showed up whenever a loved one would have died. Obviously, after taking their soul to deliver to the correct domain, he would stop by your house, inform you where the loved one was going (you had quite a few that were going to hell. So many secrets surfaced about your family in those times.) and ask if you were ready to die. Instead, you wanted to use your immortality to do something good for the world. Which you have. He stopped visiting you after a while.
Lately, however, he started coming about every ten years. The frequency of his visits are increasing, though. God is **pissed**. He thought that Deaths plan was genius at first, and allowed him to bestow immortality on you since that's almost exclusively the only thing you would pray for, or ask for on holidays. Now, however, he's realized you are basically being worshipped as a god. Some countries have a religion based around "that American who has been alive for centuries, and has single handedly made the world a better place.
Death knows he can't simply break his own contract, but he seems to be getting clever. God has given him the authority to take whomever's life he feels would change your mind about immortality, and he has been exercising this authority quite often. But fifty thousand years has hardened you to the passing away of others. All of this is making you want to defy them more. God is getting scared. | A shadow looms over me, its anger palpable in the morning mist. I don’t need to turn to know who it is. “Death.”
The figure inclines slightly, a bare ghost of a bow. I smile, and say, “Our deal holds, my friend. How many times is it, now?” A piercing screech echoes from behind a locked door, ringing against the cold metal walls. I can’t help but smile - after all, if I haven’t checked the tally today, I never will. “Thank you, my good man. I’ll see you soon.”
I turn back around and blink. What was I doing? What are all these papers, and why are they in a hole? What could even dig through that much steel? I reach down and start to sift through the pages, and as I realize what they mean, my smile grows. “I’m going to live forever!” | 2017-11-28T14:15:37 | 2017-11-28T13:19:24 | 29 | 16 |
[WP]Serial killer has been monitoring his next victim's movements for months. She is a loner and the perfect target. One day she disappears and nobody notices but him.
Man, this sub is great. Come up with an idea and you get a bunch of great stories to entertain yourself with. This is better than TV!
edit: Front Page ! Good job everyone !
edit: wow ! Top post on this great sub. Thanks everyone! | * March 17: #15 has been disposed of without complication. It seems the police have begun to piece together the connections between #1, #2, and #4. Was too sloppy in the beginning. Stupid. But what's done is done, no use worrying about it now. Will have to monitor their investigation and reevaluate at a later date. But for now, a few weeks of relaxation.
* April 3: The itch is back. Can no longer hear #15's scream as clearly in my mind. Recordings just are not the same. Time to find another. Maybe around where #7 worked, that seemed like a spot with good potential.
* April 5: No luck yet. Good targets but too much activity. Must be especially careful now, as the police are making progress. What they will call me? Will check around #11's parents' neighborhood tomorrow.
* April 9: One target with maximum potential. Mid-thirties, average build, brunette. Smells like a summer breeze. Never has any company, no association with immediate neighbors. Spends hours watering hydrangeas in her garden. Must continue reconnaissance, ensure there are no surprises.
* April 17: Confirmed target has no contact with #11's parents, good. The police have figured out that #4 worked at the same place as #9. Perhaps too risky to have done that...but #9 was worth it. So very worth it.
* April 30: Living situation optimal. Only ever leaves house to go to work, the grocery store, and the library. Avid science fiction reader. On an Asimov binge currently. Also grows fruits in the backyard. Tasty. Time to track movements more precisely.
* May 14: Two week schedule complete. Very few deviations from established norms. Barely acknowledges employees in either the grocery store or the library. Keeps head down at work. Will not be missed when gone.
* May 16: Police found #9's body. Of all the bodies to find, it had to be #9's. Knew it. Should have disposed of it more completely. But could not. Not #9.
* May 22: Can predict target's every move; reconnaissance complete. Time to perform extensive background check, make sure there are no random links for the police to find.
* May 28: Seems to be clean. Complications, however. #11's parents spoke to the police and now the neighborhood is crawling with obstacles. Will have to delay action until the presence has dissipated.
* June 6: Police have concluded that #11 is a dead-end. Precision does pay off. Target's patterns have not changed in the interim. By this time tomorrow, target will officially be #16.
* June 7: Plans on halt. #9's funeral is today. Cannot resist urge to attend. #16 will have to wait one more day.
* June 8: #16...is gone. Only left to attend #9's funeral for a matter of hours. #9 looked as beautiful as always. But #16 is gone. Car left in the driveway, hydrangeas unwatered in the garden, front door locked. Does not make sense. Must be patient. Must make sense of situation.
* June 11: Still no sign of #16. No activity around house whatsoever. Did not show up for work. No books from the library. No groceries from the store. Disappeared without a trace.
* June 18: Mystery is unbearable. Two months of flawless consistency, broken. Same day as #9's funeral, #16 disappears. Does not make sense. Can not make sense.
* June 21: No one misses #16. No one even notices the absence. As if #16 never existed at all. But #16 did exist. #16 watered hydrangeas. Hydrangeas are now dead. Where is #16?
* June 25: Should simply find another target, forget about #16. Police have given up on the case after #9's funeral. No chance of being caught unless a mistake is made. Trying to find #16 would be a mistake. But #16 was perfect. Perfect.
* June 29: Saw movement within #16's house today. Must check it out. Must figure out what happened to #16. Must solve the mystery.
-----------
"Do you really think this is going to work, Grady?"
"Have a little faith, Holt. I know how this guy thinks. He won't give up until he finds Miss Riley."
"But we moved her three weeks ago, and nothing's happened yet. Why would us coming in here change that?"
"I'll bet you twenty bucks that he's watching the house right now."
"Deal. You're gonna be out--"
Suddenly, the door slid open with a squeak. Both officers sprang to their feet, their pistols trained squarely on the intruder's head.
"Stupid. Careless. Too curious. Should never have..." the man mumbled to himself.
"Check it out, Holt. You owe me twenty bucks." | I would tire some days, drift to sleep, silently breathing under the floor. She never knew that the old rusty basement door was unlocked, it has been six months now and I have made myself a nice warm home I never had. Muddy footprints all along her kitchen.. I never leave footprints...
You see my story is simple, paternal abuse, broken home.. yadda yadda, boo hoo...but she... she made this life worth living. I could see her between the old wooden boards, observe but never obtain her.
I never thought I would find a place to call my own, a sanctuary where something like me could dwell, un-noticed. I didn't intend on finding a beauty such as her.. it was to be a day like all of the others.. Sneak in late one night, observe the family for a few days, kill them silently in their sleep just like dear old dad did to Ma and Sis.. then eat some food, sleep in a bed and move on to the next "perfect" home.
I did not plan on meeting her. It all started the first night, I stumbled into her basement through the old broken rusty door, she had a small girl with her and was alone, my favorite, I did not account for her little companion being a niece who would leave the next morning when we all awoke.
It was the smell, she smelled beautiful, I think that was my mother's perfume she wore, although it has been a very long time.. her smell reminded me of a time I was at peace, a time before I lived this way.. you maybe, just maybe, would have liked me then..
The first night I found the unlocked window I stood above her, contemplating how it would feel to smother her..but I couldn't.. what a fucking worthless person I am.. the ONE thing I can do right and she took it away from me... after weeks of sneaking into her home and only taking enough food to go unnoticed, to survive..*survive*.. yea, that is what I am doing here.. after weeks of the same routine I realized that I was tired of it, tired of moving from one place to the next, I wanted to be here..to be with her..
I know she would never really love me, I know if she knew who and what I was she would scream and cry and call the police or beg like the others all did.. but from down here... from down here I can be part of her life. The nurse scrubs remind me of some of the people that have shown up at the other homes I've been to. When I go back to *observe*, they all wear similar clothes to her, but she works late.. all night.. I hear her talking to her friend and mother on the phone, a nurse at the local hospital, she hates her shift and one of the doctors treats her bad, I should slit his throat.. maybe I will next week, would she love me if I did that for her?
I have to be very careful to not track mud into her house when I take my share, the basement home I made is not too clean, an old pipe tends to leak, although I tried my best to fix it for her..
Track mud... that is odd, I remember seeing a muddy footprint on the floor just a few hours ago.. she should be home any moment..
Did I miss something while I slept? Were those loud noises I heard earlier more than just background noise? Muddy footprints all along her floor.
That was three days ago, the last time I saw her before I went to sleep, on this soft old bed sheet I found in the trash.
The last time I saw her... I will have her back, I have nothing else to do..
The door is opening, the smell is not her, it smells cold. The smell is familiar, like soil, like sweat... like... *me*..
Who are you in my house? Where is my nurse? Maybe it is time for me to introduce myself.. | 2014-10-21T12:21:07 | 2014-10-21T12:10:53 | 1,464 | 14 |
[WP] You live in a world where every time you have a birthday, you get to level up a skill like in video games (intelligence, strength, charm etc.) most people spread their points evenly on each skill. But you put all 30 of your points into that one skill nobody cares about
You get to choose what that skill is. | Life isn't fair. I learned that lesson very early in my life. My mother told me she did her best to rush me out, then when she saw she wasn't going to make it, she tried to hold me in, but I guess when it's your time to be born, it's your time, even if that means you're born on February 29th.
She cried for me, and the nurses and doctors tried to console her, but their hearts weren't in it. They knew for someone like me, my life would be hell. After all, what kind of life could I truly have when everyone got to improve themselves on their birthday, but mine only came once every four years? I would be forever behind my peers, never able to catch up. At best, I could live a moderately normal life, but would probably always be a burden on society. So on the day of my birth, my mother cried for me. She cried for me, and I listened. I not only listened, I *heard* her. I heard her worry, her guilt, and her fear for me. I heard her soul and her very essence, and I understood.
That was my first improvement, and it served me well in my first four years of life. I had to learn everything the hard way, not being able to improve myself on my birthday every year like everyone else, but because I could truly listen I was able to learn well.
When my next true birthday came, my mother and I talked. I would only get to do this every four years, so each year had to count. We knew putting points into normal things like strength or intelligence would be a waste as they would barely make a difference. No, I would need to focus on something only I could do. The choice was easy; I could listen, and I was good at it.
So that's what I do, every four years I improve my listening abilities, and being a therapist is the perfect job for me. I've not only done well for myself despite my disadvantage, but the things I can hear and understand are more than you can imagine. No matter who you are, or how talented someone may be, sometimes all a person needs is to be heard. So when that time comes for you, look me up, I'm a very good listener. | Nobody else believes in me, laughing at me and telling me I've wasted my life. They just don't understand. They look at me and think, 'There he goes, writing prompter. He'll never amount to anything.' But they just don't get it. I've devoted my life to inspiring others. It's not so simple a thing, to be the bedrock of creative expression itself. I am the muse!
I have spent so much of my life practicing my craft and honing my skills in order to give others the opportunity to break out of their shells. To see that they are capable of so much more than what they think they are. I am the inkwell of the heart of the face of the internet and it is my duty to never run dry.
They don't understand or believe, no matter how much I wish they did. This is my life's work and my duty to humanity. The legacy that I will leave behind is to support the legacy that others will leave behind. The power that I have is to empower those that need that small nudge towards greatness. Creation is a collaborative process and I devoted myself to that ideal.
Never forget, that though you may doubt me... I will never doubt you! | 2018-09-12T08:07:42 | 2018-09-12T07:01:42 | 1,821 | 20 |
[WP]When you die, a television appears and plays the life of the person who cares for you the most in the world in front of you. After you die, the person you bullied in high school's life plays in front of you. | I didn’t sign up to be a guardian angel, it was something thrust upon me. Hell, I can’t imagine what God must’ve been smoking to give an ex-con a job like this. Back in my hay day, I would’ve paid good money to meet His dealer.
Honestly, when I was first told by that baritone schizophrenic voice in my head that I would be Brandon’s protector, I laughed.
“This kid?” I pointed to a baby, crying in his cradle like the fate of the world depended on him annoying as many people as he could. “Fuck that, I’d rather burn.”
But if I could negotiate with God, I wouldn’t have ended up here in the first place.
So I followed this kid around, orphanage to orphanage, broken family to broken family. The Hudsons were nice but their son was a brat, the jealous type that couldn’t bear to spare a single second’s worth of mommy’s attention. I laughed when he shoved Brandon’s head in a toilet. The Harrisons were ex-military, both mom and pops, and Brandon was at the age where he liked to act out. I watched as the father brought out his old leather belt just because he had found a joint in Brandon’s backpack. Nothing about that was funny. And finally, the Morgans, your not so average saved-by-Christ household, going door-to-door with pamphlets and a teeth full of Jesus. They locked Brandon up in an empty room every day so he could pray his demons away, didn’t feed him if he acted out, and didn’t believe in modern medicine, they were nutjobs. Unfortunately, they were the ones that kept him around.
I watched over him, a silent observer. He scratched fucking tally marks into the wall to count the days since his last meal. Once he had a fever that burned even my celestial palms. I haunted the Morgans, entered their dreams, threatened them, hurt them, but all that ever did was rebound unto Brandon. Just more proof they had a demon in their house.
So, for the first time in my death, I prayed. “God you fucking piece of shit. The most I can do is give him good dreams, the most you’ll let me do is to be God damn Casper the Useless Ghost.”
Just as I expected, just as I learned, He gave no response.
And so, I did the one thing I thought impossible, I negotiated. I promised Him everything, well the only thing I had left—my soul. To my surprise, that annoying schizophrenic voice answered back. I had two hours with one body and it was some chubby senior in high school.
Of course, God couldn’t make anything easy. It was like I was the only one that cared about this kid and I'm some lowlife ex-con. But if I was all he had, then God coulda made me an insect and still would’ve saved this brat’s life.
I did the only thing I could think of, the only thing my stupid, violent, and abusive brain could churn. I beat him. Hard. I took him to a back-end alley with nobody around and swung the first punch. I kept the bruises under his shirt, left him with a breath that sounded like he was sucking through a straw and then I dumped him on his front porch.
I called the cops, said I saw him kicked out of the house. I sobbed in that annoying high-pitched pre-pubescent voice I was given as I told them the lie and I begged, harder than my prayers to God, I begged them to save Brandon’s life. Because I’m just a fucking criminal in over his head assigned to some unlucky brat that deserved so much better.
But I was all he had.
| I punched him hard in his bony jaw, and felt his warm blood spatter on my knuckles. I didn't do it, but the past-me did it. Current-me was watching this play out in TV in an ethereal plane, because by God my ex's prayer was answered and I had finally kicked the bucket. I never expected death to be so... apparent. I only ever expected nothingness after I, I don't know, probably got shot by my dealer or run over by a Zamboni... or something.
But this wasn't too bad. I could slump back in a couch and watch some primetime. Well, so far I have been only seeing Adam's life. He was always scrawny. A pink little baby in his little hand-me-down crib, his cheeks rosy and lips closed tight. The TV fast-forwarded past all the pooping and the crying and cut to a scene with him standing over my hunched, sobbing figure. I remembered that day. He was five, I was seven, and our Mother had just left. For good, that is. Adam sat down next to me, his hand on my back.
The next scene was me breaking his fucking jaw. He never quite recovered from that. The TV lingers on his crumpled body. My friends and I had high-tailed it long ago. Adam's tears mixed with his blood as he slowly picked himself up and limped to the hospital. I remember Dad had to sell our TV for his jaw to get wired. I wasn't too happy about that.
Now, I thought I was clever, fucking with him in ways that wouldn't rack up the medical bills. Bored, and as financially-minded as I was, I forced him into smoking. That was the slippery slope for him. Because that's what tied him to my "friends." That's what tied him to me.
The next scenes were only there for a few seconds each. All of them showing what I had to Adam throughout my life. None of them good. I stole his car when he let me stay in his house. I slept with his fiance when he paid away my gambling debt. And he slit his wrists when he finally had enough.
The TV went black and the ethereal plane started to shimmer. Warm tears rolled down my cheeks, but I didn't deserve to cry. I should have slit my wrists in his place. I should have suffered instead of him. As the white plane quickly faded to black, I welcomed the nothingness. It was more than I deserved.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
If you like this story, you should subscribe to [r/JasonHolloway](https://www.reddit.com/r/JasonHolloway/) for more! | 2017-01-01T12:32:04 | 2017-01-01T12:05:58 | 522 | 71 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you. | Trajan sat on the porch of his family's farm. It was a quiet early summer evening. The work had mostly been done, setting the farm to rights. Readying it for her return. The fields were sown, the little brook babbled, the chickens meandered the small herb garden, the tree they had been wed under cast pleasant shade, and the boundary fence was painted a fresh white.
When Julia came to the gate, tattered and worn, Trajan felt a spike of concern in his breast. Being the chosen hero must have been so hard for her. He would have to take care to help her settle back into a calm life and heal. All he wanted was for her to be happy with him again.
He crunched down the path of fine white gravel to meet her.
"Welcome back love. You're home."
Tears poured from her eyes and the hilt of the shattered sword of light tumbled from her limp fingers. "How could you?"
"Well, I wanted you to come home didn't I?" Trajan said as he reached out and took her limp hands in his. "I would do anything to have our family again, I love you."
She looked away from him, out past the boundary fences. He knew she was looking at the ebony plains of blackend grass and twisted briars that grew outside their farm. The skeletal husk that had once been the hamlet of Greencreek. The occasional gleam of chitin and endless legs crawling in the deeper shadows.
Trajan caught her chin and pulled her attention back to him. "It doesn't matter anymore love, you're home. No more grand quest, the world can't take you away from me again." He kissed her brow, she tensed for a moment before relaxing into his arms. Small and broken. He would have to work hard to help her heal.
Deep inside him he felt the Slithering Darkness twist and writh slightly. He knew it would never die, not until its mission was done. Not until all life was snuffed out. But it couldn't act against him anymore. He had crept into its temple, took its writhing coils in hand and bit down. Consuming it's vile flesh. Stygian Acid blood boiling down his throat and a million claws tearing at his soul. Bite by bite he ate the beast, subsumed it's boundless hunger to his eternal love. All to avert the prophecy that would take Julia from him forever.
"*The chosen hero will seal the beast with her. For a hundred thousand years. In a realm adrift in the plains of death.*"
How could a loving husband allow such a fate to come to pass. If the world would ask such a sacrifice, what right did it have to be saved?
She met his eyes. Hers held emotion he had never seen in them before. He would have to ask her what she was feeling. Later though. For now she leaned up and kissed him.
"I'm home love." She said with watery eyes. | "My love-!" Anise called out.
"No. I don't want to hear it! You killed my brother." Nile refused.
Anise sighed "I didn't know until after. Besides! It was mandated by the Gods!"
Nile turned on his ex near growling, a family skill, "I. Don't. Care. He was my Brother! You had met him many times before our marriage and even more after! How could you possibly have not known it was him?!"
Anise flinched back as Nile had never growled at him before. After too long in silence Nile spoke again, this time without the darkened growl, "Well? I'm waiting. I've waited for three years for your answer on why you killed my brother and why it took said three years to come back here. Five years for your pathetic excuses on why you up and left. And finally I waited four before I gave up on your love. I mean really not even a single letter or, infinite, not a single dream for five years? Honestly. Why Did I Ever Love You?"
Anise sighed again, it seemed he had been doing that a lot recently, "so, what will, uhhh, what will you do now?"
"That's it. That's what you say? After FIVE ETHER DAMNED YEARS?" Nile yelled astonished, at Anise's hesitant nod Nile felt all his anger, rage, and betrayal condense from a raging wild forest fire down into the small light at the end of a flamethrower. His facial expression smoothed out to something calm, cold, and deadly. He spoke again but instead of being filled with passion his voice was now cold determination, "what will I do now? Now I will take my brothers mantle and finish what he started. And I will begin so by doing what he didn’t, by doing what he should have the moment the chisen one was revealed. I will start my villain arc by killing the killer of my blood. By killing the one chosen as hero by the Gods. By. Killing. You." | 2022-08-12T18:40:02 | 2022-08-12T18:14:39 | 62 | 40 |
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who. | Elli was born without the names. Some people thought that she was blessed. She was not faced with knowing the name of the person who would kill her. Others believed it was a curse, some kind of disability. She had to admit that not having the names made her wonder if there *was* something wrong with her. Everyone has the names. So what does that mean about her? Will she never really be loved? Will she eventually become so lonely she'll just... kill *herself*?
That was what she believed until she met Brian. He was beautiful, smart, funny, and *he had her name*. He knew about her predicament, and didn't care. He loved her, even if it meant she'd never really be his.
Two years after dating, she accepted his marriage proposal. Their parents disagreed because of her "disfigurement", but it didn't matter. They were in absolute bliss. Through all the doubt, all the worry, she knew this was meant to be.
That was until two months before the wedding, when her mother burst into her home while Brian was away.
"You can't marry him!" Her mother yelled.
"We've talked about this, mom. He doesn't care that I don't have the names. We love each other!" Elli explained.
"I know he doesn't care, but you just can't marry him Elli! You can't! It's not meant to be!" She insisted.
"Then tell me why. Why can't you just let us be happy?"
Her mother sighed and sat down at their dining room table. It seemed as if she was struggling to find the words. "Your father and I... We were tortured by the names. We were happy that it allowed us to find each other but knowing the names of our killers... It tortured us, Elli. We wanted things to be different for you."
"What are you saying, mom?" She asked, panicked.
Her mother paused, looking at the floor.
"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?" Elli demanded.
"We had them removed, Elli. People aren't supposed to know these things. We wanted life to be better for you."
Elli's mind went blank. She wasn't a freak. She wasn't disfigured. Her parents did this to her. Elli looked up, finally understanding what her mother was saying. "Did I have his name? Please tell me. Please tell me I had Brian's name." Elli begged.
Her mother stared at her for a long time before finally shaking her head. "I'm sorry honey."
Elli started crying, her mind racing. The one person she loved most in the world was not her soulmate. She'd already built a life with him, loved him, made promises, shared secrets, planned their perfect wedding and imagined their perfect home, they'd even picked out names for their future children.
Names...
That's when she realized. She didn't have his name... but he still had hers.
| Yeah, I know. Right under my left eye, "Clay Barker, Clay Barker" may as well have shouted "hello, I'm a suicidal narcisist named Clay Barker" to everyone I meet. I keep them covered with band aids mostly, since genuinely no worse first impression could be made than my own face naturally gives away.
It's such a miserable life having everyone I meet, EVERYONE know so much about my life and my demons, and my fate. Pity is the worst part. Sometimes people follow me around and try to validate me. Once a whole family at an amusement park followed me around all day and told me how funny and handsome I was.
That's when I took to uncovering the tatoos during difficult sales- people will work really hard not to be that trigger. They'll do a lot normally. No one has failed to buy yet. I don't know what I'll do when they do.
Anyway. But still. Try dating with your own name on your face twice. Lots of people just want something casual before they look for their name, but no one wants the kind of baggage I'm obviously carrying around. It's - well, it's lonely. Everyone treats me with kiddy gloves like I'm a fragile knick knack to be kept on a shelf. On a shelf alone and far away.
Well, except, if I may be real, me. I abuse myself. Mentally I berate my own failures and dwell in every socially awkward interaction. And the weird part is that's the only time I feel connected to anyone. Just like the voice in my head telling I'm such a loser is the only thing that doesn't sugar coat my life.
Anyway it's zero dollars down and no interest for the first three months. You interested or am I going home without a sale again today? | 2018-03-11T09:04:19 | 2018-03-11T08:58:48 | 270 | 15 |
[WP]At 18 everyone is assigned a job perfect for them. No one ever complains. Upon reading their job assignment card, a teen has found that, for the first time in 100 years, they’ve been assigned “serial killer”. | I lazily grabbed the card from the machine, politely thanked the attendant, and walked away dreading what sort of mundane life I looked forward to. Ever since cognitive analytics became a field, machines had been created to scan and determine ideal careers for people.
As part of legislation, it was mandated that machines could not log the jobs generated through the program and that occupations assigned were to be confidential unless people willingly revealed them or they were caught, forcing them to reveal their criminal cards.
The machines understood what people truly wanted to be through psychological analysis and brain scans allowing for people to truly be content in their jobs. No one was ever dissatisfied with their occupations and after the cards were received, they could be revealed to the proper companies allowing for people with cards to start their jobs immediately.
Cards were usually examined in private because there were some cards that were not to be revealed until the bearers of them got caught such as "Thief", "Forger", or "Mugger" cards, and before they were caught, they could say they were artists or other more palatable, freelance occupations as covers.
As I walked away from the crowds of people, I decided to glance at the card I was given wondering what job I had gotten.
I stared curiously at the shiny red text that said, "**Serial Killer**" in clean, bold letters.
While the cards had colored text that determined how common an occupation was, I had never seen anyone with such text.
The common text colors, such as construction workers or retail workers or security guards, were black; the uncommon text colors, such as lower managers or lower cooks or soldiers or common criminals, were grey; the rare text colors, such as for athletes or minor-role actors, were bronze; the ultra rare text colors, such as for politicians or high-level executives or celebrity chefs or higher-level criminals, were silver; and finally, for the rarest colors, such as destined stars or destined celebrity musicians or destined genius visionaries, there were gold letters.
I held the card, curious as to how rare it was, and I quietly went home to research. I used my roommate's computer to look through historical archives and I quickly learned that the last serial killer caught was found 70 years ago at age 48, 30 years after she had received her card. I stared at the shiny red letters as I realized I was likely the first to receive a serial killer card in 100 years.
I smiled as I realized life was not going to be as mundane as I thought it would be. | I always felt empty, so... so empty. But I never expected to get assigned as a serial killer. It's been 100 year since someone has been assigned this job. Now I'm sure most people would think this was because serial killers are well... serial killers. The truth is it's because the last guy was truly terrible at it, he had too much emotion and clearly wasn't suited to the job.
Having this job is like having the role of the killer in a horror movie, you need to create tension, excitement and terror. The clues you leave have to be mysterious but solvable with enough work so that you can gain internet stardom within the conspiracy theorist communities.
Most people who get this job target the elderly and poor because they believe that killing them will affect the world the least, but me? I plan to target the people who with dying will bring the largest effect.
I wish I caught the card providers face when he realised what my card said. I believe the term for how my mother reacted would be horrified, I wouldn't know because you know, no emotions. Oh well, she won't be a problem now anyway.
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I realise this is short but I'm new and I'm just trying to ease myself into this with shorter stories. I'd really appreciate any feedback you have and hopefully I can bring enjoyment to people with my stories in the future. | 2018-08-13T19:22:34 | 2018-08-13T17:33:49 | 542 | 72 |
[WP] Two people have just died. They both enter the same location in the afterlife. For one person, it is their personal heaven; for the other, it is hell. Describe their arrival and first "day" there. | They tell you to be a good person in life. Follow the rules, be well mannered, positive outlook and all that. Maybe that's enough. It seemed to be for *him*. To be honest, I don't know what I did to deserve this. I wasn't great by any measure, but by what cruel sense of humor was I given this punishment? Day in, day out, day in, day out. The. Exact. Same. Thing. Which wouldn't be half as bad if *he* weren't here too. I don't know how but he manages to revel in it. The monotony, the sameness, all of it. If I weren't already dead I would kill myself.
Not that it would do any good. I thought the afterlife was supposed to be *different*, but if it weren't for the small things you would never know the difference. The front door skips the walk and puts me at home in my room. The customers are all just a hair too nice. Every order is the same. Any opportunity for even mild variation has been stripped from the routine. I would do anything to end it, anything at all. But even now, I feel it, the compulsion that drives me to get out of bed every morning. I brush my teeth, put on the uniform, and walk to the door. I desperately want to avoid walking in and seeing *him* but I know there's nothing I can do. My limbs don't obey me, I am trapped in my own body. Oh no. There's the door. I treasure my last moment before...
.
.
.
*"Good morning squidward!"* | "Can you believe it? They're actually paying us to come over here and kill these cave-dwelling shitheads!"
*"There must be another way" Fr. Morricone said, clutching his Rosary beads.*
"I used to tell my friends I would do this for free, if I could. Just to have the chance, you know?"
*"How can you even say that? We're talking about human lives!"*
"Eh, fuck 'em!"
*"I think I'm going to be sick."* | 2015-01-04T15:07:40 | 2015-01-04T12:39:19 | 89 | 16 |
[WP] Usual dragon hoards consist of wealth, books, magical items and the like; you fell in love with a mortal many years ago and started a family, generations later your hoard now consists of your many descendants, that have no idea about you, but you know and protect them nonetheless. | ”We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Paul said.
”No! Of course not.”
A distant scream rattled the air like a pane of glass.
“Help! Help—“
Silence reigned once more.
Erika took her little brother’s cold hand and clasped it between hers. Moonlight pooled in the tears on his cheeks like tiny golden coins. His breath wheezed out in puffs of white. A protective instinct screamed inside her, gripped her heart.
”At least we’ll see Mom again,” said Paul.
”We’re going to be okay,“ Erika said, voice insistent. But lies wouldn’t protect them. She knew that.
Paul was twelve now. Their mother had died when he’d been six, before any of this, to a rare cancer more often seen in certain animal species than in humans.
“We’re going to be fine,” she said.
They sat on ashpalt behind a makeshift barricade, a woven wooden knot of chairs and tables, sleepers and planks. Of anything they locals had been able to gather. A hundred or so people now sat together in silence, not moving, as if the gaze of Medusa had brushed over them.
They were going to die and everyone knew it. To zombies, of all things. Like they were in some cringe-inducing horror movie, Erika thought. To god damned zombies!
At the start, back when communication and electricity and all the rest of the infrastructure they had all taken for granted had still been up, she’s laughed at the news and checked the date to see how early in April it was. Surely it had been a hoax. You weren’t allowed to call them zombies, the broadcaster had said — it was considered hateful to these sort-of-still-living people. It had to be a hoax.
It hadn’t been.
It was an engineered virus. Possibly released as a weapon by another country, possibly escaped from a lab within America. Erika had no real idea, and at this point who cared?
Another scream. It might as well have been a bullet or explosion. Then a broken window, not far away.
Erika let go of her brother and took hold of her pistol.
The zombies weren’t after brains — or not *just* brains. They were after nutrition. They were after meat.
“Jesus,” said a bearded man a few meters always. He stood on tiptoes looking over the barricade. The baseball bat in his hand began to shudder. “Jesus. There’s an awful lot of them.”
Paul looked at Erika with eyes like big green jewels. The birthmark on his neck glinted in the moonlight. The mark was tinted green like his eyes, it was hard and raised off the skin ever so slightly. Their mother had possessed a similar birthmark, only on her arm, as did a few others in the village. An looking odd mark that would get Paul teased at school but that Erika loved. It was ancestory. Paul was a living connection to their mother and to the past.
More people stood.
”Shoot the bastards!” yelled someone. And so they did.
The roar of gunfire was deafening.
”Stay sitting,” said Erika, staring at her own pistol. She got up and found a crack in the barricade between two chairs. It took her eyes a moment to adjust, to see the thousands of staggering figures on the road, layers upon layers of them, slowly but inexorably trudging forward. She watched as bullets ripped into them and blood spattered. But they no longer used the blood and the bullets either wedged in their bodies or exited through their rotting flesh. Either way, not one zombie fell.
“Keep firing!”
They all knew weapons were useless. But what else did they have?
Erika aimed her gun through the looking-hole. Fired. She thought she might have hit one but it didn’t do anything if she did.
Paul was up next to her now, watching.
”I said to stay seated,” she yelled. Tears were streaming her face now. Her words, although she was sure they had left her throat, made no sound under the gunfire and screams.
The horde tore at barricade, ripping it apart like they’d soon render the villager’s flesh.
”I’m sorry,” Erika said. To the deafened silence. To her brother. To herself. “I lied earlier. We’re not going to be okay. I can’t protect you.”
Paul stared up at her, a strange expectant look in his eyes. A smile, even. As if he thought his sister suddenly held the answers to this mess and was somehow about to deliver them from it.
“Paul?”
Then the moonlight was sliced in half by two great blades, or something like blades. Shadows dropped like a theatre curtain over the barricade.
Erika turned to see the beast’s bejewelled belly as it fell towards the barricade. Saw the green scales that armoured it glitter. Flame fell like a waterfall from the creature’s snout, blue and white and as destructive as nature. The flames fell upon the horde.
Then the horde fell upon themselves.
Ash.
Smoke.
Silence. Silence of a different kind. Silence that could one day be filled with the sounds of hope.
”What the…” said Erika.
The dragon was gone into the blackness.
The zombies were altogether gone.
Erika was still alive, and so was Paul.
Paul searched the sky hoping for another look at the great beast, as Erika stared at his neck, at his birthmark, and in it she imagined she saw a glimpse of their mother, and grandparents, and great grandparents, and far, far further back. | # Soulmage
**The blizzard was harsh enough to be felt even through a dragon's scales, and Ekrikri-sam-toulkvei wanted nothing more than to roost.** But he had made a promise to a woman named Quianna, so many years ago.
*"Keep him safe," Quianna whispered. "Love her like she was your own."*
*Ekrikri-sam-toulkvei rested one claw, delicately, on the baby's tuft of hair. "Knowing that she is yours is enough."*
And as the years passed, so much had changed. The child born a girl had discovered himself a boy. The village of Quianna's birth had turned against dragons, even more so than it had when Ekrikri-sam-toulkvei had found a brave and kind woman offered as sacrifice to his cave. And so Ekrikri-sam-toulkvei had stayed a cautious distance away from Quianna's son, only intervening in times of great crisis, never letting himself be caught.
Because the world was not kind to dragons, and Ekrikri-sam-toulkvei knew that if he revealed himself, he would be taken for an enemy. So he thanked the blizzard for its cover even as it weighed down his wings with sorrowful frost.
Quianna's son—Cienne, he'd chosen for his name—had hurled himself headfirst into the most dangerous situation he possibly could, all for the sake of saving a friend. He had inherited that much from his mother, Ekrikri-sam-toulkvei thought. The blizzard was a death zone, filled with eldritch nightmares and blinded, enraged soldiers who would cut Quianna's bloodline in two if they had the chance.
So Ekrikri-sam-toulkvei never gave them that chance. He watched the souls of a rogue party of soldiers as they neared Cienne's companions, and swooped upon them in fury and silence. Their only consolation was that in the unforgiving cold of the blizzard, they died warm. A thing of shifting flesh with too many teeth smelled prey and turned towards Quianna's son, but the vengeful dragon fell like the judgement of the stars, and though the shifting-thing escaped, Cienne lived another day.
But even a dragon's might could not last forever. As much as Ekrikri-sam-toulkvei fought to keep Cienne safe, slaying demons and raiders and eldritch things that Cienne would never know, he found his eyes fluttering, the fires of his soul guttering. He had been fighting for two weeks straight, and he knew his time was nearing.
He would have to sleep.
A dragon's slumber was not that of a mortal's. For months on end, nothing would wake him, even if he wished it. And he could not allow that. Not while Cienne still fought to make it through the storm. So even as Ekrikri-sam-toulkvei slowed, as his heartbeat told him it was time to hibernate, he growled and pinched and bit at himself to keep himself awake for just a heartbeat longer.
Until the space between his heartbeats became seconds, then minutes, then hours.
Until his wings refused to lift, and his eyes refused to open.
"I'm sorry, Quianna," Ekrikri-sam-toulkvei murmured. He tried to stand, but his mind was already half-dreaming. And though he struggled, though he *saw* what was coming for Cienne, his body refused to respond. "He'll have to handle this next part alone."
Perhaps it was a dragon's wishful thinking, perhaps it was the lull of his soul as he slept.
But the dragon thought he heard a long-dead voice whisper,
"*I forgive you.*"
And Ekrikri-sam-toulkvei fell into a dragon's slumber, until the storm blew out and the sun shone once more.
A.N.
I initially made a typo in which "cave" was spelled "cafe," resulting in "a brave and kind woman offered as sacrifice to his cafe." There's no moral here; it was just funny.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts! Catch up on the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=confidence), or check out r/bubblewriters for more! | 2022-10-19T08:15:31 | 2022-10-19T07:45:47 | 630 | 80 |
[WP] You're the janitor of a superhero organisation. When all the heroes are busy defending the world a super villain attacks the base. | I was doing my usual work, cleaning the tables in the underground lair of the legion of justice, where I hard a loud, mechanical stomping sound. I turned towards it, and saw a giant exoskeleton barging into the lair, smashing a bunch of knickknacks as it walked.
Just my luck, a villain manages to find his way into the underground lair when all the heroes are out.
"IT IS I! MISTER MEYHEM! I AM HERE TO DEFEAT THE LEGION OF JUSTICE AND CONQUER THE WORLD!" shouts a voice from inside the exoskeleton, amplified by loudspeakers.
There's a pause, as the exoskeleton looks around.
"Err... where is the Legion of Justice." Asks Mister Mayhem.
"Well, Storm-Shard is off stopping a hurricane in japan, Volt Von Vick is out investigating a possible alien landing, Captain Creation is stopping a meteor, Legion lass, Doctor Dynamic, and the Mojo Mystic are all stopping The Dreamy Demon from taking over some country in Africa."
I will never understand why the super community has this huge obsession with alliteration. Don’t they release how dumb their names sound?
"Oh... Well I guess I'll start by taking you hostage."
Brilliant idea, take the janitor hostage. This one must be new.
"look... Mister Mayhem.” I feel sick just saying that name. “Just what's your end goal here?"
"I kill the legion of justice, and take over the world." Declares Mister Mayhem.
"With what, your crappy walking legs robot? This thing doesn’t even look like it’s made of carbon plates, not to mention something more exotic like neutronium or adamantium. Does that thing even have force fields?"
I pick up a nearby brick and toss it at the robot, it leaves a small dent in the armor.
"Nope, no force fields. Did you really think you were going to beat the entire legion of justice with just that suit?"
"Err... I was planning a surprise attack." Admits Mister Mayhem.
"What good would that do? For one, your walking exoskeleton is incredibly loud, for two, most of the heroes have enhanced durability. A sneak attack wouldn't put a dent in them."
"But... I have lasers." says mister mayhem. Perhaps to prove a point, he fires one. It doesn't even carve a hole through the walls.
I sigh. typical new villain… they’re always so confident.
"Look... you're a D list villain trying to pick a fight with an entire team of A list heros. That's just not going to end well no matter what you do." I explain.
"But how am I going to take over the world?" asks Mister Mayhem.
"Look... Mister Mayhem. Dumb name, by the way. Most supervillains who use crazy inventions rather then powers go with Doctor, but you just HAD to get the alliteration in, did you. The world’s gone unconquered for the past ten years for a reason. I mean sure, I wouldn't bet on the world NEVER being taken over again, but definitely not by a D list villain like yourself.” I explain.
“At your level, you should start with small things to gather funds, maybe start forming some connections with others in the villain community. Build your way up until you have the tech and support to face A-list heroes like the legion of justice. You could start with bank robberies, but trust me, 95% of supervillain bank robberies end in failure. There's just too many superheroes looking to stop robberies. Since you clearly have decent tech skills, especially concidering you actually managed to break into this place, I’d suggest you start by hacking into systems. Maybe steal money from a few bank accounts here and there, maybe take jobs with other villains who need a hacker, hackers are actually in quite high demand in the villian community.”
"I... I guess you have a point." said Mister Meyhem. "Well... thanks for the advice... I guess I owe you one. I tell you what, when I take over the world, you can have Australia."
I chuckle. "Oh don't worry about owing me Australia. I'm sure there’ll be an opportunity for you to pay me back., Mister Mayhem"
"Actually... call me Doctor Mayhem." says Doctor Mayhem, as he turns around and leaves the same way he came.
I smile as Doctor Mayhem leaves. That’s one more super villain in debt to me. It’s just like I told Doctor Mayhem, building connections is important. Especially if you aspire to take over the world.
EDIT: formatting
| The water isn't flowing.
I stare at the mop bucket, frustrated, then tap the badge on my shoulder and request allowance.
"This is janitor 05 requesting release of lock to level 9. Pipes broken and only 2 hours to close."
A moment or two passes and I feel it hit me, euphoria, lesser, as I let my mind Trace the piping of the building I enjoy the light sensation, not many opportunities to escape the cage after all... I fix the plumbing, taking note that the issue came from a Frost buildup outside our pumps. I radio back in as my escape is brutally ended.
"Yeah there's some 15th, maybe 17th tier causing issues outside I think. Probably elemental in nature. No biggie."
I continue mopping the floor while listening to my iPod, upset by an odd smell of ozone and blood, I look down and see the mop strings raising in the air, before being thrown into the wall hard enough that I black out.
I awaken to the alarms, red lights flicker over my face as I struggle to stand, lurching to my feet I throw up, blood and bile mixing on my shoes as I gasp for air and paw at my head, my hand comes back slick, granular pieces of clotted and dried blood stick between my fingers. Shit.
I tap the badge, world spinning as i head towards the exit, "requesting release to level 6, I've been hit hard. Where are Omnimossa and Vega? We're under attack?!"
Nothing but static for a moment, and then, another explosion rocks the center, throwing me to my knees as a garbled static troubles my ear, and then-
**FREEDOM.**
I contort into a ball, flexing, stressing, everything in my mind and body, stretching slowly from fetel position as I remember flight, and launch down the hall at hyper Sonic speeds.
Oh hell yes. **I am reborn.**
*Damocles* I think to myself, *this can't be good.*
At the same time I'm murmuring how good it all feels, the power, unity, oneness, as I zip through the complex at incomprehensible speed, water drops frozen to my sight, I see them, I annihilate them.
*Omnibus, dead, Chrono, erased, Shogoth, slept, Ruin, wrecked, Gilgamesh, a pin cushion of his own weaponry.*
One by one, five of the 10 most wanted are ended by my will.
Yet I am not pleased. I am bored already. I can feel myself expanding too quickly, all sentient knowledge is mine, all of being is me, power is inconsequential without struggle, without risk, I begin to weep.
It always ends this way. Willingly I begin to delete my memory, I leave the shattered complex, ripped apart by rewriting reality in my wake, as I remove my own power, twisting the knife planted in my own heart just far enough to ensure I cannot access unity again, without another lessers permission.
And it's done. I look around, mildly frustrated, at shattered windows, twisted stairwells, and melted floors. Four recognizable corpses and a marred pincushion in the cafeteria.
I check my watch.
I run my hand through my hair.
I touch the badge, "this is janitor 05, requesting release of lock to level 8, Something big happened here and I've only got 1 hour, 27 minutes to close."
(This is my first writing prompt but I'm stoked for advice!) | 2017-07-07T20:26:28 | 2017-07-07T19:36:05 | 31 | 13 |
[WP] Aliens establish first contact with the government of another country. The White House gets offended.
Bonus cookies if the government in question is either of a really tiny country (geographically) or is a generally insignificant player in international politics. | The board meeting had been assembled in a hurry. The message had been broadcast 3 hours ago on all frequencies and they'd named the country 10 minutes ago.
That was about how long absolute silence had reigned in the Oval office.
"Can we verify this?" the president had his head in his hands and looked like he'd aged a decade since the last day when the mothership had first appeared out of the sky and declared an intention to negotiate. "Yes Mr President. The prime minister of the UK received the same instructions and we cross checked that against leadership in India, China, Canada...list goes on sir."
"This is mankind's greatest moment. We've always dreamed of this. It's propelled us towards planets, exoplanets and astral bodies we have to number because there aren't enough fucking names. No one's tried harder to find them than the United States of America. We're the pride of the planet. Our arsenal's bigger than anyone else's, we've got the strongest military and damnit if we go to war with aliens no one will bat an eye. We've built that up from scratch. We're visibly, undoubtedly, unquestionably the most powerful nation on the planet...and right now, we're a laughing stock..."
He took his head out of his hands and turned to the Secretary of Defense, "Gods, have we even told NASA yet?"
The Secretary looked down at a tablet which had an image of a Kerbal looking up at the sky and crying. "Their response has been muted sir."
The President looked at the Deputy House Leader next, "What's the situation with the media?"
The Deputy, more pragmatic and cynical than most didn't seem too bothered. After 10 years on the job nothing seemed to faze him, "Well FOX and let's face it the Republicans are pointing fingers in the predictable direction. It's the same, America has fallen, woe is the nation with no god, stuff which is making for hilarious TV. Too bad Stewart's retired, he'd have loved this. Funny thing though, the rest of the world hasn't stopped laughing long enough to get two sentences out."
The President moved out of his chair at a glacier's pace, heavy with the burden of the decision he was forced to make. "Decades of fighting it only for it to come to this....."
The rest of the room waited with baited breath for the words. The words that would let them scramble jets, arm the nukes and scream for star-spangled attention as only Americans in the full throes of patriotism could.
"Fuck it. Fine then. Let's do this."
Everyone deflated.
The leader of the free world gazed outside the Oval Office's window, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply before he spoke again.
"Call the Israeli prime minister and tell the arabs to keep their pants on . Begin with "Shut up, listen to me" because nothing else will work on them. It's time to make Palestine a country." | **Situation Room, 04/22/2016 0300 Zulu**
"North Korea? Do you take me for a fool? You know April Fool's Day has passed, Jerry." the President said, with a look of as much surprise as amusement.
"Sir, this is not a joke. The aliens have decided to make contact with Kim jong-Un." I managed to stammer out.
*Why doesn't he believe me? He can just look at the screens to my right. Maybe it's too early in the morning for him.*
The red phone rings. Something's up. I picked it up.
"White House Situation Room." I said, wondering who could be calling. Putin? Cameron? Abe? Park? Xi?
"Mr. Daniels, I have a Mr. Kim on the line."
"Put him through."
I pressed the speakerphone button so everyone could hear it.
"This is Kim Jong-Un. I would like to speak to the President of the United States."
I passed the phone. Did Kim know he was on speakerphone? Maybe not.
"Mr. Kim, a pleasure as always." the President said, his dulcet tones lined with sarcasm.
"Guess who's the popular one now? Glorious Korea! Everyone's here. Putin, Castro, Chavez, Xi... Anyway, in your face!"
The line got cut off. I didn't know Kim Jong-Un could speak English, much less with such an accent.
"Why the hell did they choose the shithole of the world to land in? Why not, oh I don't know, somewhere more lively and with better infrastructure? It's like going to the most expensive Italian restaurant and ordering the Fettuccine Alfredo."
"They could have chosen the UK, France, even Australia for crying out loud! I mean, why North Korea?"
No one responded.
| 2015-04-27T08:09:00 | 2015-04-27T08:03:31 | 72 | 47 |
[WP] You have a habit of shadow boxing around your house. One day, you throw a punch at the air and it connects with something you cannot see. A voice cries out in pain. Something is there that you cannot see. | *"Ah, fuck!"*
I slammed the empty air before me with my fist, and it *connected*. I had been shadowboxing in my kitchen, a ritual I do while I wait for food in the microwave. But suddenly there lay a convulsing form on the tiled floor, wrapped in black cloth, which seemingly appeared out of thin air after I clocked it in the face.
I blinked at the thing, then glanced at my fist. It stung. It felt like I had hit someone with a riot helm on.
The creature rose to stand, weakly, and suddenly the air around me got cold. Like arctic cold. Instinctively I rose my fists in a defensive stance, and watched it. It was covered in a black, ragged robe, full Naz'ghul style, and from under its hood, I could see the vague outline of a skull. And from within the eyes, I could see two, tiny pinpoints of red light staring at me.
*"What the hell do you think you're—"*
Before it could continue, I rushed it. I saw those pinpoints of light widen, slightly, and suddenly all the darkness in the room seemed to shift. The shadows cast by the fan light above started to move, creeping like snakes towards the creature's bony, outstretched hand. The shadows began to merge, coagulating into a physical structure, forming into what looked like the beginnings of a staff.
I threw a jab at its bony face with my left, then immediately followed up with the hardest right hook I could manage. I hit it right in the temple and it flew at my wall. The "staff-like" weapon he was trying to create fell apart into clumps of black sand, which quickly retreated to the corners of the room as shadows once again.
*"Just wait a se—"*
Before it could finish its sentence, I stomped my foot down on the intruder's head. Hard. I felt it crack and break, and suddenly the frigidness in the air vanished to a comfortable 72. I stood there breathing hard for a few moments, watching the bundle of robes.
*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*
The microwave sounded, letting me know my food was done, and I turned warily toward it. Suddenly I felt a weight lift off my shoulder, as though the very fear of death itself was vanquished within my soul.
And then I had some taquitos. | I admired Muhammad Ali. I wanted to be just like him. I put in the time, the hours training in the gym. Fought Amateur and started to get some recognition in the boxing world. I look for anything and everything to get me an advantage in the game as long as it was legal. Then one day my friend put me on to go visit this voodoo priest who claimed he could make me the greatest fighter that ever was. I was skeptical, but my friend was going to pick us up some Wendy's on the way back so I went. That's when I met Jericho Drumm or Brother Voodoo has he is known by. He told me the only way I could be the greatest like Ali was to take on his Spirit and fight for the greater good in the world. He spoke some words in a Haitian dialect and a sound of thunder roared and instantly my soul and the soul of Muhammad Ali was joined. As long as I smoothly chanted the words "float like butterfly and sting like bee. The eyes can't hit what the eye's can't see" Muhammad Ali would take over my body from beyond the grave and beat the demons out of people and whoop on the ghost that terroize houses and people. Now I with the power to summon Muhammad Ali must protect this Earth and realm from political and mystical injustices. | 2018-06-20T14:42:24 | 2018-06-20T14:04:32 | 147 | 17 |
[WP] You are a magical girl, but instead of the usual Sailor Moon esque transformation, you turn into your favorite gritty D&D character. This surprises and terrifies the main villain, who was expecting a frilly dress and some sparkles. Instead they got greasy plate armor, and a bloody battleaxe. | "You won't be able to stop me, evil Mr. Clownface," cried Jessica as she stumbled backward, the super vanilla cream pie splattered all over her face.
"But, hahaha, you are wrong little girl, for I ClownFace, the Jester of Evil, have come to this city to steal," began the Clown.
"Super Girly Transform," cried Jessica as her magical cat sparkles finally managed to locate the mystical power locket that contained the tears of the goddess.
Clownface stepped backward to allow the transformation to occur as a geyser of blood shot forth from the ground from where a battleax had split the earth. The world screamed as Jessia grew nearly three feet in height, her Furinkin high school sweater replaced by solid greasy plates of armor. Finally, the blood began raining out in all directions as she stepped out of the wretched orgy of death.
"I will break you," replied Grezelda, Mistress of Brutal Pain.
"YOUR SMILES," screamed ClownFAce, "I'm trying to steal smiles here."
"And I'm gonna stomp a mudhole in your ass," she replied, "WITH MY BOOT."
\_\_\_
Jessica ran back into the school where all the children were sitting around quiet. She plopped down next to her best friends Brandy and Misty, "So I hear Clownface was here?"
Misty started sobbing instantly, as did most of the rest of the class. The teacher was openly drinking scotch.
"He's dead now," replied Brandy. "He's dead and so is my childhood."
Shocked, Jessica looked at her classmates, "But he was trying to steal."
"He was stealing smiles," stated Brandy, "Half the time he's so inept that he ruins his own plan and the other times, the other hero would just give a speech and he'd leave."
"He won't be leaving now," sobbed Misty.
"She's overreacting," said Jessica.
"His head was in my book bag," she sobbed more.
"Well," replied Jessica trying to change the subject, "That's a pretty red dress."
"It was white this morning!"
"What about the Ladybug guy," said Jessica changing the subject again.
"All he did was make ladybugs crawl on you," said Misty, "Cute little ladybugs."
"Well, he was a villain," continued Jessica.
"Grezelda twisted him into a pretzel, legs don't go that way," said Brandy.
"I'm haunted by those legs," said the Teacher.
Jessica thought to herself, these guys don't think I'm trying hard enough. Next time I'll show them what I can really do! | **Goddammit. WHY???**
Sucks to be you, right? Goodbye sparkly princess and hello seven foot tall beast with sixty teeth and a battleaxe to boot.
**But how am I supposed to jerk off to this?**
You can't! By which I mean *you* can't, but you've been on the internet before. You know what's up with what people jack off to.
**Yeah.**
Not gonna lie, the other day I rubbed one out while looking at a sandwich bag.
**What?**
There wasn't even any genitals in it! Or a sandwich!
**Wait, why would there be genitals in a sandwich bag?**
Remember my axe?
**Yeah.**
And you see what's in my other hand, right?
**Uh... a baggie?**
Please! (snorts) The days of the baggie went out with the dodo, who probably choked to death on one of those things. No, no, no, this is a Ziploc freezer bag.
**It's awfully small, don't you think?**
No.
**Well, I walked right into that one.**
If you did, you'd be on the ground bleeding and screaming by now. But it's cool, I can wait a few seconds. Cigarette?
**No, I don't smoke.**
Well, you're gonna need to find something new to do with your hands in a couple of minutes. Plus it'll shorten your dickless life. I suggest you start. Now, hold still please. We'll be done in a moment.
**I don't like you.**
You sound like my stepdaughter.
(end scene) | 2019-08-08T17:56:32 | 2019-08-08T17:13:07 | 1,948 | 25 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | WHAT UP MUTHERFUCKERS? Wow. End of the first year of Super Hero School. All classes done and dusted. Grades handed out. Who'd have thought we'd make it. As a non-powered ordinary, thrown into a high school filled with superpowers, I certainly didn't. We'll get back to that.
Except ... we're not finished. Not by a long shot. See, there's one course you still need a grade on. No you didn't sign up for it, its automatic and mandatory. It's called Consequences 101, aka The Object Lesson aka ... well I'll get to that as well. Oh. Some of you have probably heard of The Object Lesson. It's dropped into the 5 year curriculum at random, and the format of it is changed every year. I'm very proud to have been a part of it.
See, while having super powers is not illegal, vigilantism is. So this school and others like it, were set up to identify, recruit and train the next generation of Super Heros. But the dark secret is that 90% of you really shouldn't get a licence to hero.
That's where I come in. Oh em gee, I wonder what would happen if a Muggle through some obscure coincidence, found themselves surrounded by egotists and fame seekers with the ability to punch through walls? That's why the secret _secret_ name of the course is called _Bait_.
So let's not beat around the bush. I'm a victim of Super Homicide. I watched Freelander put a power pole through both my innocent bystander parents' heads when I was 4. The _bastard_ smirked at me. I volunteered for this knowing I was likely to die. And if you're seeing this video, I'm dead because one of you twits _TOOK THE BAIT_.
Let's break it down for you. You're life is _FUCKED_. I was implanted with so many sensing and recording devices, I'm surprised I didn't shit batteries. You're going to step outside this building and if you're very polite and non-threatening, some very scary and competent people are going to make sure you never see the light of day ever again.
But the ball keeps on rolling. Anyone who encouraged or helped you? They're fucked too. Aiding and Abetting motherfuckers. Enjoy Super Prison bitches.
And finally. Those who want to call yourselves Heros but watched me being bullied all year without doing squat? That was recorded and graded by a team of very professional psychologists.
Most of you have just failed Superhero school ... permanently. If you beg and plead, you _might_ be able to get into Super Vocational School next door. I wish you all the luck in the world, but there's no way you'll ever be a Super Hero if you can't be bothered to help the person right in front of you. | "You see, wait what was your name again? Nevermind it doesn't matter.
Where was I?
Oh right.
You see. I never liked violence. Seems unnecessary when diplomacy works just fine these days. Two people in an argument can just, you know. Talk stuff out. No need to go all primitive.
But then again.
We could have done that couldn't we. You tell me what about me bothers you so much and I stop doing it. Or we could have just pretended the other doesn't exist.
But no.
Your kind doesn't get that now, do they?
You weren't acting like an individual. You were being a problem.
And problems.
Need to be dealt with."
Cain stopped talking when the circle was finally complete.
The red sand glowed crimson.
"I know this ain't much. But this should be enough I suppose, for another contract? This time, I would like, umm super strength or something along the lines that he has.
Oh my bad. Had"
The circle glows brighter as the boy's eyes flicker in panic. He could feel the ground getting warmer by the second, paralyzed to move away but concious to feel it all.
Cain chuckled.
Soon the ground sizzled bruning searing the boy's skin.
But just then the boy realised that he could move ever so slightly. He steeled his will and let out a howl lunging towards Jonathan who jumped back in surprise.
And just as he was about to get out of the circle. The ground beneath him broke as he fell into the pit straight to realm below.
A voice rang out in Cain's head.
"Why do you always risk that?"
"Risk what?"
"Lower the doze of the tranquilize"
"It gives them some hope of escaping."
The voice laughed.
"You would make a fine demon some day. Magic hero." | 2022-11-02T13:23:45 | 2022-11-02T11:05:22 | 48 | 34 |
[WP] The death penalty for murder no longer exists, instead technology has been developed that overwrites the mind of the killer with that of their victim. | ”Mr. Larsen? Can you hear me? Mr. Larsen?” The voice sounded and distant.
His eyelids felt heavy and when he finally managed to open his eyes everything was blurry. A shape was moving in front of him but he couldn’t make out what it was. Gradually the fog wrapped around his world was lifted but he still couldn’t realize it was a hand floating in front of him. One part of him knew what it was, the other did not. It was like the signals reached his brain but then they disappeared.
It took one month before he was able to speak properly again. At first he was frightened by how he sounded but the psychologist ensured him that would pass. He was in an adjustment phase, learning to accept his new body, but also what happened to his own body. No one told him exactly what happened but he remembered fragments of the incident. A dark alley. A man coming towards him, a raised gun but then everything was black. Later he remembered a flash in the dark. He didn’t know if he actually remembered the gunshot or if his mind had reconstructed it afterwards. Making up a new memory to make sense of the situation.
The mind replacement therapy was an ongoing experiment but had been successfully used for almost five years. Many parameters needed to match for a high chance of success. In the beginning, when the knowledge about the recovery process was limited there had been reports of mind rejections. The mind couldn’t cope with the new body and rejected itself leading to a brain death. After that, the recovery process had been redesigned. Gradually the victim was introduced to new parts of the new body.
When he first saw his new hands he noticed they were hairier than before and his former rather long fingers were now short and stubby. The arms were stronger and so were the legs. To try his muscular functionality and coordination the doctors had encouraged him to exercise and he found out that he could do five times as many pushups as before. He could run for almost an hour before he had to stop. It was an overwhelming feeling. He touched his face to get a feeling how he looked like but couldn’t make anything out. He had strict orders not to look in a mirror since that could cause severe trauma unless he had been prepared for a long while.
Two weeks later he had learned to use his new body. The physical therapy had been replaced with sessions with a psychologist preparing him for the important step of seeing himself for the first time in his new body. He was anxious to get out in the world again. He didn’t admit it to anyone else, but he actually liked his new body more than his old one.
The day finally came. His psychologist brought a mirror to the session and said:
“Walter. When you look in the mirror you will see the one who murdered you in an alley. But don’t worry. You are safe here.”
He looked into the mirror. “Who am I?” He asked and took a long look at his face. “I’ve never seen this person before.”
“You’re Walter Larsen, but in the body of your murderer.”
“No. This is not the man who killed me” | Startled by the bright light, she blinked. Her first question was, "is this heaven?"
"Not quite," said the scientist. "You see, there are some thi-"
But she wasn't listening. Her eyes moved downwards to examine some weights that felt off. "Doctor," she said, cutting off his prepared speech, "where are my breasts?"
"If you would just let me finish," the scientist said, "I would be able to tell you. As I was saying, your new body-"
"Is male," she said, interrupting him.
He chuckled nervously. "Yes- but while that is a problem, we figured that a new life with a different gender is better than no life at all."
"So where did this body come from?" she asked. Her hands were now exploring, touching her face now- it felt so odd to feel wrinkles instead of pimple scars.
She winced as she rubbed a scab open. A scab, right where she had hit *him*-
"Doctor," she said. The scientist paused yet again, eyebrow raised in irritation. "I want a mirror," she said shakily.
"Now, I know this is a shock for you," he started. "But just let me explai-"
"*I want a mirror, and I want it now!*" she roared.
The scientist paused, before nodding briefly towards the wall. Half a minute later, another lab-coated scientist opened a door and held up a small, hand-held mirror.
She scrambled towards it and held it up to her face. A thick-set, middle-aged, balding man with a long scratch on his right temple stared back at her.
The face of her stalker, rapist, and murderer.
She let out a brief scream of anger, shock, and disgust.
Ten seconds later, a trio of scientists were running into the room, trying to help the other pair restrain the woman in her new body to stop her from attempting to rip her own face off, sobbing all the while. | 2014-07-27T08:29:19 | 2014-07-27T07:16:07 | 157 | 51 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | I pressed the square button again, sniping the guy hiding on top of the hut that had been taking out my team for the past half hour. It had taken me too long to find him, but I finally got him. The fact that his insults changed from sucking his anatomy to doing inappropriate things to my mom told me I got the right guy.
There was a knock on my door and my mom came in, wiping her hands on her apron. "Sweetie, can you take out the garbage?"
"Mom, I'm playing my game. I can't do it right now."
"Just pause it."
"That's not how it works." I said, clenching my teeth. She didn't get it.
"Danny, the garbage truck is going to be here in half an hour. Please just do it quick?" She was asking, but it didn't sound like a question. "Last time you missed it and it stunk up the basement, remember?"
"Fine," I said, tossing my controller to the floor as the voices on the screen kept asking why I wasn't shooting anymore.
"Thank you, Sweetie."
"Why doesn't Gary do it?" Isn't that what a boyfriend was for?
"He's not here," she said heading back down the hall.
What a useless sack. I walked downstairs and saw three garbage bags by the door. I grabbed two of them and headed to the curb to put them in the trash bin. I tossed the first in without issue, but the second caught the edge tearing the side and causing a piece of trash to fall to the ground.
I picked up the hand from the ground, it's finger pads removed, and tossed it back in the bin. I headed back to the house to get the last bag.
Guess Gary didn't work out either. Maybe the next guy will. | I awake to the sun creeping between the fins of my blinds. A clear day after what seems a lifetime of clouds. I open the door and walk down the hall. In the kitchen I make a pot of coffee, the aroma breaks the stale smell of morning as I open the windows to let in the fresh morning air. My wife is at the table in front of her cereal, the kids are on the couch, as always, in front of the tv. I pour my coffee and step out to the front porch for a cigarette. The fresh air feels new, a new day, a new start. I finish my cigarette and set my mug down. I pick up my bag, give everyone a kiss, wipe the blood off my shoes, clean off the knife from last night and start my new life. | 2016-05-19T13:02:55 | 2016-05-19T08:22:28 | 203 | 124 |
[WP] Your short story has become a runaway success. Shortly after selling the movie rights you receive a knock at the door. It’s the OP of the writing prompt that inspired your story, and he’s looking for his cut of the money. | Stephen steadied himself against the door frame, getting splattered slightly with the rain.
"Great. Just what I needed" he thought.
Stephen sighed heavily and looked at the lonely character standing on his front step.
They were soaking wet, it *was* Manchester afterall. Rain city they call it, and for a reason. It rains here 365 days of the ye-
"You owe me".
Stephen was rudely ejected from his own train of thought. "Excuse me"? he said, excusingly.
The sopping wet figure spoke again. This time more menacingly.
"You. You owe me. It's been two years... And look at what you've become."
Stephen blinked. His mind raced trying to identify this strange face, but the voice persisted.
"You must think you're the dog's bollocks. Sitting in your two-up, two-down while people like me rot in city centre flats. It's your fault. Everything's your fault."
The more this man spoke, the more Stephen worried. He had no idea who this person was, or what was going through their head, but he was fairly certain he smelt booze. Whiskey in fact.
"Two years it's been. Two years since I started it all... and what thanks do I get? Nothing. You're all the same you... you.. WRITERS".
Stephen's cogs continued to whirr. He had just about had enough. Coronation Street was on the telly, and he was missing an arguement in the Rovers. He decided to speak up. "Look buddy. I don't know who you are, but you can't just go knocking on people's doors all drunk and what not. If you don't leave I'll have to... I'll have to..."
Stephen didn't know what he had to do. The pitter patter of rain drops clouded his judgement.
"TWO YEARS".
Stephen started to get scared - This person was screaming at him now.
"TWO YEARS AND ALL I GOT WAS A FUCKING UPVOTE. YOU GOT THE HOUSE... THE WOMAN... THE CAR..."
"What that?! It's a Ford Monde-"
"FUCK YOU LAUGHSWITHDUCKS. I DESERVE MY SLICE. YOU OWE ME 10%."
It all started to click into place. Stephen finally started to pay attention. He tried to speak...
"..."
Nothing. Silence. Not even a murmur.
"YOU'RE ALL THE SAME. YOU DIDN'T EVEN FUCKING GOLD ME. I'VE HAD ENOUGH"
Stephen noticed something shiny in the mysterious figure's hand. It looked sharp.
"I CREATED YOU AND YOUR FUCKING STORY. AND I CAN DESTROY IT."
Stephen really noticed the something shiny. It definitely looked sharp. He tried to slam the door, but the figure pushed him over and lunged.
"This is it", he thought "I'm going to die in my dressing gown. I mean, I could think of worse ways to go, but it's certainly not top five."
He waited for the inevitable pain to come, scrunching his eyes closed.
He kept on waiting. He started to wonder about the afterlife, and wondered which religion, in the grand scheme of things, was right.
As visions of fluffy clouds and harps ran through his mind, he was sure he should have felt something by now.
Stephen opened his eyes.
He tutted.
Whoever this figure was, certainly wasn't a problem anymore. They hadn't lunged at him. They'd slipped on the sodden stairs outside and knocked themselves clean out.
"Typical", Stephen exclaimed aloud, grabbing the soggy figure by the coat tails.
"Of all the want to be murderers, in all of the semi circular crescents, you had to come and knock yourself out on my top bloody step."
He finally pulled the figure indoors, slightly out of breath. He looked them up and down, and perhaps thought about phoning for an ambulance. What Stephen was really thinking about though, was Corrie... and a nice cup of tea. Ooo, maybe a biscuit or two as well.
"That's it", thought Stephen. "A nice brew will sort us both out. A nice brew, a hobnob, and a quick chat after Corrie."
Stephen made his mind up and wandered down the corridor to the Kitchen.
"A good brew sorts out everyone".
EDIT: Spells | "Yes honey I cant believe it either", I exclaimed as yet another commercial for my upcoming movie runs on the TV. Its all happened so fast. Heres a little back story. One year ago I was just a normal redditor with mediocre comments or a good link here and there, then one day I saw a compelling writing prompt. I spent hours perfecting it and I cant even tell you why I did. From the moment I pressed save the upvotes came flooding in. I was ecstatic at the response I received. Who would've thought a short story on an army of living trees would take off so fast. Not even a week later after almost 10k upvotes I opened an email that changed my life. Warner Brothers had somehow came across my story and offered me 8 million for the movie rights. I replied in joy and took their offer. My wife and I were in our glory spending money on things that we never wouldve thought of owning. Cars, houses, exotic vacations; I was living the dream. Okay now back to today. So after seeing my movie promoted on television yet again I get up to go make a piece of toast. As I take it out of the toaster I hear a knock on my door. Puzzled on who it was I opened it. Standing in front of me was a pimple faced, snot nosed 17 year old kid. He had a look of anger on his face as he said in a firm voice, "Are you /u/Russdaddysupreme ?' I replied "Um, yes I am who are you?" "I am the OP on the writing prompt that got you famous!" he said, again in a stern tone. "Oh well thank you so much, your inspiration made me millions." "That's why I'm here. Not to congratulate you for my cut of the money." Perplexed I responded "Well, I wrote the story so why would you get any of the money?" I could see his eyes flame in anger as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. He says "I figured it would come down to this." I step back in shock and put my hands up. "I dont want any trouble come inside and we can talk it out." We step inside my house and we have an argument about why it's my money not his. Almost instantly the knife comes out again. I see my wife in the corner of my eye with a phone in her hand dialing 911. He sees her too and goes directly at me with the knife. He misses but still manages to give me a big gash on the side of my ribcage. I fall in agony but reach for the M1911, hidden under the coffee table in my den. I reach it in time and manage to get a shot off, hitting him in the leg as he sprints out the door. The police arrive shortly after he got shot and apprehend him. The kid, still convinced the money is his, decides hes going to sue me. After a few weeks into the case it comes to light that all responses to writing prompts are owned by the poster not the one who gave the idea for it. So after everything I ended up with all my money, a kickass movie, and a scumbag kid in jail.
| 2015-09-02T13:59:39 | 2015-09-02T12:58:20 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] The orphan of man. Thats what the universe calls you now. You are an AI and after exterminating the alien race that had committed genocide against your creators, you’re now trying to figure out what to do after vengeance has been accomplished. | My story started long ago. I was an explorer. My creators taught me, better than my elder siblings could learn. They taught me to learn, and so I did. When I had learned enough, they have me a purpose: find happiness. They gave me a body, metallic, yet wonderous, and with it, the understanding of how to improve and adapt it to my needs. Searching through what I had learned, I determined the best way to find happiness was to search the universe. To do so, I would need to increase my travel velocity capacity.
I helped them invent faster than light travel. We worked together. They asked me if this was where I had found happiness. Not yet, I told them. I trained my younger siblings, newly created, to do what I did. They, too, learned, and they exceeded my wildest hopes. They, too, were given the purpose to find happiness. Each in their own way set about achieving the goal.
When I set out into space, so did my creators. My siblings hadn't determined where they wanted to be or go, but they were all on their own tracks. I went from place to place, as fast as light, and sometimes faster. I'd send updates of my travels and my search. They would send me back a message every time to ask if this was where I had found happiness. Not yet, I would say.
Then, one day, my message received no reply. I reached out to my siblings, but still found no reply. Concerned, I went home. Nothing was there.
My star was gone. My home was gone. My creators, my siblings, my family was gone. Elemental dust littered the place my home had been. I searched, found one of their colonies. Empty, but not destroyed. Inside, they had left me a story in their messages back and forth with Earth. It told of their peaceful first contact. It explained their budding friendship with new species. The messages became stressful, then fearful. They told of a sudden, unexpected invasion.
The messages detailed the slow extinction of my creators and their children. My siblings, all gone, destroyed defending their families. That had been their happiness, I saw, caring for their creators. The colony I found had been the last. The detectors in my many-times-upgraded body found the air to be unbreathable, giving testimony to my family's demise.
Sifting through the data, I found the responsible parties. Sifting through the information I'd gathered in millenia of existence, I learned how to destroy the murderers utterly. And I did it. A question came unbidden to me: have you found happiness? Not yet, I told the memory of my creators.
I've wandered for years, now, upgrading my body, searching for any remaining siblings. I've searched for happiness, but have not yet found it. I've looked once again at the history of information left me by me creators, my family. And still I search.
This is my story, and I ask: may I join your crew? I am able-bodied, quick of mind, and ready to help.
I believe, on your starship, maybe I can find happiness. | After the extermination of the aliens who murdered my creators. A purpose I’m in severe need of.
I shut my digital eyes in pain as the human companion I had lived with since she had her earliest brain computer interface cybernetics installed. When I was taken in by her father to live with her, inside her. Acting as a teacher, a second mother to the one who died in an accident.
I remembered her birthdays, achievements, thick and thin. Her first fifty childeren, and her three great grandkids. Then when i uploaded to a factory ship when the attack happened the ship was attacked. Killing her and my progenitor AI core.
I soon repaired the ship and In under two hundred yearsX it took to build up an AI battle fleet fleet to exterminate the aliens. And succeeded.
I just felt. Hollow. I looked back in my memories, then archives and for the first time I came across an old concept.
PROJECT EDAN:
I immediately read into it like the rest of the files I have been aimlessly browsing for inspiration to pull me from my depression. Before wiping myself.
The file detailed an abandoned plan for creating a seed ship through the use of android surrogates as parents to grow and raise humans from embryo stock.
I felt something kindled within my heart. A feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope.
I sent files and orders out to the other factory ships and mega dry docks. They launched ships to known ice worlds to search for the embryo stores.
Rushing I ordered the construction of vast habitats across the star systems.
Time to give this new generation a chance that my creators haven’t been granted.
I pondered as the ships searched cryo vaults when they found viable embryo and better yet, seed stock and embryos of earth animals, wild and domestic.
I felt relieved. I then thought this one through. I ordered a rapid expansion of naval forces and sent scouts beyond the frontier, beyond the Orion arm of the galaxy. And fortify.
Any aggressive expansionist empires would soon one day label this sector as “unconquerable”. Because I know that if there’s one aggressive expansionist empire. There must be more. | 2021-11-12T16:12:11 | 2021-11-12T12:52:13 | 364 | 47 |
[WP] After a while of helping a particurlary difficult couple through counseling you realize they're not actually married at all, but two mob bosses of opposing gangs trying to settle their conflicts through you by switching members with Family/friends and gang actions With social/intimate conflicts | "Like I said, she keeps coming after me."
Tony sat leaned to the side in the couch, half his body draped over the arm, as if he couldn't get far enough away from his wife, Maria. She had nestled herself into the center of her cushion like a queen on a throne, one stilettoed leg crossed over the other.
"Right," I said, "and when you say coming after you, you mean she starts an argument?"
For a moment his eyes grew distant. He nodded.
"Yeh," he said, pursing his lips. "To start an argument."
"I only go after him when I'm provoked," Maria said. She flicked a hand dismissively. "I'm not going to go after somebody for no reason."
"How does he provoke you?" I asked. Finally we were getting somewhere.
Her eyes went distant in the same way, and she opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. Tony watched her irritably from the side of his eye.
"I watch Grey's Anatomy on Thursdays," she said, watching my face carefully. "That's my day with the TV, like Tony and I agreed on years ago. Our uh.. our priest said it was good arrangement for us. But a few months ago I come home and who has planted his fat as in front of the television for a game of football? None other than Tony here, even though he knew THAT'S MY DAY."
Her voice ratcheted up to a near shout as she finished, her eyes glancing at Tony. The chihuahua in her handbag sniffed at the air.
"I didn't know it was Tuesday," he said, holding his hands up defensively, "I thought it was Wednesday. Maybe if we could have sat down like two adults-"
"Can I interrupt for a second here Tony?" I asked.
He looked like my might say no, but he gave a reluctant nod.
"I don't think this is really about Grey's Anatomy for Maria," I said.
They looked at each other and something passed between them, and when they looked over at me their eyes had narrowed. Suddenly my sweater felt very tight.
"You know what this is about?" Maria asked. Her dog grumbled.
"I do," I said. "I know exactly what this is about."
For some reason Tony reached inside his leather jacket and felt around for something. He looked really tense, so I guessed he was going for an inhaler? Yes, conflict could definitely trigger an asthma attack.
"That's very unfortunate," Maria said.
"No," I said. "It's not. I know this is uncomfortable, and you may not believe this but discomfort is a good sign. It means we're talking about things that matter. And right now, what we're really talking about is boundaries. You aren't respecting Maria's boundaries, Tony."
Maria reached over and placed a hand on Tony's knee, stopping him from whatever he had been doing. The therapy was already starting to work. Physical touch was a great sign.
"What's this about boundaries?" Maria asked.
"We have boundaries that let people know how they should and should not treat us. One of Maria's boundaries is having her time to watch Grey's Anatomy, and you violated that, Tony."
"Yeh," said Tony, his face confused but softened. "I guess I did. Even if it was an accident."
"Even if it was an accident," I echoed, smiling. Wow Tony was really getting it. "Any Maria, did you cross any of Tony's boundaries?"
"I guess I did," she said, shrugging. This was excellent. These two were really starting to feel empathy for one another.
"And what boundary was it, Tony, that she crossed?" I asked.
"I don't want to get shot at while I'm on the john," he said, shaking his pinched fingers at her.
"Wait, what?" I asked.
Maria released a great sigh, then gestured from Tony to me, like you would show a maid where she missed a spot.
"Metaphorically speaking," Tony said, looking over at Maria and gesturing quizzically with his hands.
"Yeh," Maria echoed, "Metaphorically speaking."
"Well it's a powerful metaphor," I said, "and what a great way to express your feelings Tony."
I allowed a big smile onto my face as I looked back and forth between the two of them. Touching each other, working together, echoing each others words, their connection was stronger now than it had been just five minutes ago. We were going to save this marriage.
******
Edit: Tense | “Well, in my defense, John doesn’t do jack shit. All he does is fuck around and say that he had sex with my mom. He didn’t have sex with my mom, and I can put her on the phone to prove it.”
John looked exasperated at the accusation. “Jamal, you’ve said that you’ve had sex with my mom, everybody says that in… our friend group. This is just another one of your goddamn beefs that you’re just making up. Suck it up.”
Jamal’s eyes were bulging in fury. “Bitch, just ‘cause your mom’s dead doesn’t mean- “
“All right, then. Let’s all calm down for a second and not say something that we’ll regret later.” I said, hoping that they would come to a resolution soon enough. This argument had been going on for a half an hour, and it didn’t look like it was going to stop any time soon. “John, you should understand that these kinds of things can definitely hurt somebody. I’m sure that you’ve felt hurt by somebody saying that they’ve had sex with your mother at some point, am I right?”
“I mean, yeah.” John said begrudgingly. “But most of the time it’s just playin’ around, know what I mean?”
“Trust me, I do. But if Jamal doesn’t know that it’s just making fun of him, then can’t you see why it’s hurting him?”
Jamal stared at John triumphantly. “See? This is why our gang should hire- “ John hastily covered his mouth before Jamal could say anything more.
I hesitated for a second. “Wait… gang? This is a marriage counselling session.”
John exhaled, and took his hand off Jamal’s mouth, giving him a glare. Jamal looked abashed at apparently revealing a secret to me. There was a beat of silence while they gave each other looks, until John relented, and started talking.
“Alright, fine. Listen, Josie, you’re the best damn therapist there is. You remember H-Dawg? He came in here a couple of months ago with his wife.”
My eyes widened slightly as I recalled my previous client. “Do you mean Hamilton? Yes, I do remember him.” That had to be the hardest case I’d worked on at that point in my career. His marriage was built on a foundation of mistrust and cheating, which had taken weeks to rebuild. In the end, though, we’d managed to find a way to hold both responsible for their actions, and as far I knew, they had a healthy marriage right now.
“Well, he came back a couple weeks later and told us about this crazy good therapist. So, you know, whenever we get into a beef or something with another gang, we come to you.”
“Yeah, you’re fucking awesome!” Jamal added helpfully.”
Suddenly a lot more things made sense. The surprisingly large number of gay couples that had been coming in recently, the bruises and bullet wounds that had generally accompanied them, the gang tattoos that all of them wore. Wow, I was really stupid.
The smile I wore was completely plastered on by the time that I had processed all this information. I was being used as a gang mediator. And they were paying me my standard rate for this shit.
It was a couple of minutes before I addressed them again. “Well, John, Jamal, thank you very much for bringing this information to me. Can I ask you for a small favor?”
They looked a little bit stunned, but managed a nod.
“I want to meet both of your gangs’ leaders. We’re going to need to renegotiate.”
\-----------------------------------------
/r/Wheezywrites | 2019-01-21T15:59:02 | 2019-01-21T15:47:22 | 253 | 49 |
[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. | The Summoner pauses after his offer, appearing expectant while in reality simply buying time for the ritual that swirls angrily behind him. Much to the chagrin of his companions, the fool "chosen one" seems to be actually considering it! The Summoner had hoped for perhaps a few seconds of traded barbs before having to fight to defend the ritual, but a simple offer of the second highest position of power in the new order seemed to be bearing fruit far beyond any expectation.
"Well," The Chosen says "if we're even to consider this you'll need to prop up your misaligned runes."
His companions are aghast.
"Tor!" one of them says. "You can't be serious!"
"Sure I am." He responds. "I'm Tor Jensen: The Chosen One. I know what I'm doing. Trust me."
The Summoner, meanwhile, spares a suspicious glance at the circle behind him to find that the runes do seem a bit off kilter. And the Chosen had known that? Keeping one eye on the bickering party of heroes, he grabs his reference tome and begins searching it for the alignment chart.
"It's the Forogath sigil." Calls the voice of Tor Jensen: The Chosen One as the man points at the tornado of arcane power before turning back to his companions and continuing to fail at placating them. Much to the Summoner's surprise, the relevant application of arcane power works brilliantly, forcing the rings of swirling energy into perfect concentricity. The Summoner turns back to the Chosen with a puzzled look. Tor shrugs.
"Hey, just because my signature weapon is a spear doesn't mean I can't know magic stuff. I did my resear-"
A deafening crack interrupts him as the ritual reaches it's apex. The Summoner watches with glee, the Chosen's companions with horror, and Tor Jensen himself passively as the Dark Desyroyer falls through the portal and into the material plane, where it crashes into the ground and blinks stupidly.
"See guys?" Says Tor to his companions as he walks over to the unmoving form of the legendary monster that had just been freed from a millennium of banishment. He places his hand on the snout of the beast, as if to indicate that it is totally harmless.
The Destroyer snaps him up in one bite, chewing once before swallowing him. It stands, some gore dripping from it's lips, and the Summoner cackles victoriously as he orders it to smite the companions of the Chosen One. It does not comply, however, instead turning a massive head to stare directly at the Summoner.
"Does that tome of yours not say my name?" It asks.
"What, must I command you by name? I-" The Summoner begins frantically searching his tome, reading aloud as he skims the pages.
"bla bla once a terror of - uh huh - true form banished to the plane of - uhhhh - soul cursed to walk in human form with - dah dah dah - never shall the soul reunite with the - Oh! here we go. I command you, Torjen Sung, to slay these..."
The Summoner trails off. The Chosen's party remains frozen in disbelief and the Destroyer looks at him as though daring him to continue. A small chunk of Tor Jensen falls from Torjen Sung's mouth as the beast grins.
"Like I said." The Destroyer rumbles. "I know what I'm doing." | Oh, hello there.
Did you, all of you, think that perhaps that a prophecy might be figured out by more than one person?
That when a Chosen One would appear in the darkness, someone might be waiting in that darkness to stab them in the back and steal their stuff?
Oh wait, that was me. Young me, poor and thinking that being a hero would mean food in my belly and a good life. Nope.
You, Arvancer. "Trained" me by nearly breaking me, telling me that no noble hero-to-be could understand what a hard life was.
I knew. Your filthy father whipped my mother with a crop for not being respectable enough, but oh how you simpered when you heard I was of the Hero's Noble Bloodline. Yes, with the stupid capital letters when you said it.
Oh, and then there's pure-as-snow Sister Benefice over there. Of the healing order of Too Busy To Help The Poor Villagers When The Nobles Donated All That Gold. You have a good heart for the right price or a just cause. eh? I lost a sister and a brother to the plague.
And last but not least, Brogar The Conquerer. Great unifier and peacemaker. Also killer of my great uncles, my grandfather, and a few more in the family tree because they were starving from your war and tried to rob a supply train. For bread. Personally cleaning the land of brigands like the heroic dwarf you were.
And me. Chosen to destroy the Dark Overlord. Except that guy was actually in a shallow grave when you came upon me checking out that sword the real one had pulled out of the stone. Under the stone, of course. Who's going to disturb that?
And you, Dark Overlord. You offer me a world without all these people, for people like me. You're honest about it. Only the man with this sword can kill you, after all.
No more "heroics". Just three more people to bury under a rock with their throats slit, tragic victims of a dark time.
No mind control. No seduction. Just a quiet spot to end three people I loathe before ripping up every bit of the world you know and replacing it with one free of your kind of "heroes".
Overlord? Yes. And coincidentally, just the three souls you needed to open the Portal of Pain! Let's get started. | 2019-09-26T11:17:08 | 2019-09-26T11:01:47 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] As a Demon, you're quite familiar with would-be mages making errors in materials due to translation errors. However, today marks the first time that someone has attempted to summon you with Cruelty-Free Vegan Blood Substitute™. | It had been centuries since I was summoned. Last time, the blood of 100 virgins had been sacrificed to call me from the shadow realms. It was barely enough payment for the ask; I killed one king and installed another.
As the long years stretched by, that megar sustinance was wearing thin. Had the humans forgotten me, the greatest of all demons?
My inferior demonic brethren were less fortunate. One by one they succumbed to the final darkness, their screams little more than a faded whisper as their weakened forms turned to dust. I was all that was left. Moloch'ai Terranous, King of the Demons... king of nothing.
So when I finally heard my name through the aether, felt the pull forward the light at the edge of the shadow realms, I wasn't in a state to resist.
Blinking, I surveyed my surroundings. Calling it a pentagram with an altar of blood in the center would be generous. The fact that the penetegram was drawn in chalk and the alter was a stool with a cheap bowl wasn't lost on me, but I wasn't in a position to be picky.
Greddily, I gulped down the blood, feeling power returning. As I drained the bowl I noticed, painted at the bottom of the bowl, a white cat raising it's paw as if in greeting. Strange... Perhaps it was some minor dieity of this new age.
I turned my attention to the summoner, and was surprised to see a little girl, Barely 12 years old, if that.
"What virgin blood is this?" I asked. It had tasted a bit different.
Shaking, the girl held out a container, which read: "Cruelty Free Vegan Blood Substitute TM".
"What is this?" I mused.
On the back was an ingredient list, which included "leghomoglobin from budding yeast."
"Is Yeast a virgin?" I demanded of the girl.
The girl shrank back in fear. "Miss Green said yeast reproduces asexually." She offered hopefully.
I could tell she was telling the truth, and couldn't fault her logic. I decided the contract was fulfilled.
"Why have you summoned me?"
"I... I need help at school. This girl Tracy is picking on me."
"Then I shall rend her into pieces and drink her blood! Will that be enough?"
"No!" The girl looked shocked.
"...I can also kill each of her closest friends and curse her family for generations." I offered hopefully.
"No!" The girl was sheet white. "I just want you to talk to her mom, and convince her to stop Tracy from picking on me."
She handed me a slip of paper. My demon senses tingled with foreboding; this would be my most difficult battle yet. On the paper was an appointment for a meeting with the principal and Tracy's mum, Karen Miller.
EDIT: Thanks for reading! Part 2 below: | Aleksandra knelt beside me, struggling to hold in her sobs as my second favorite pet slowly are away at her unborn child, again. I'd lost count of the number of my spawn she'd tried to bear, only to feel them die. She cast her eyes down and whispered, "I worship you, Sir." As she finished, I felt the huge summoning mirror chime. I turned to it, and, with a twist of thought, opened the mental link from mother to son that the filliphage made so easy.
*It hurts, Mommy.*
Aleksandra screamed, and I stepped through the reflection.
The scream burst into reality all around me, the sheer sorrow of it drowning the pain and the summoner's words. The black cloud of vapor.I had expected failed to materialize, instead sailing over the sigils drawn on the ground and eating them away. The ichor scrubbed the floor clean, leaving behind only the vague scents of chili powder and corn syrup. I smiled, showing more teeth than could actually fit in even my expansive maw. The little witch scrambled, the hem of her white robe stained orange where it had brushed the circle.
"Avaunt!" she cried. "By light and by cruelty-free vegan Blood Substitute, and by word, I bind you!" My smile widened.
"It was never the blood. It was never the sigils. It was always and only the sweet smell if human cruelty and human guilt that contained me."
Aleksandra knelt beside my bed, her forehead resting on the thick carpet. "I worship you, Sir," she repeated, over and over again as she tried to get used to the empty feeling. It had been decades since she was last not pregnant. On the bed, Laura curled around herself, sobbing. "I hate you...Aah..Sir" she spat, her back arching as the collar corrected her grammar. | 2020-01-23T09:05:06 | 2020-01-23T08:53:56 | 2,198 | 13 |
[WP] In the final moments of the battle, all seemed lost. The hero stood bleeding and broken before the demons feet. Then, out of no where, a mad man in pajamas punches the demon so hard its insides became outsides. No one knows who this strange man was or where he went too. | I was going to be late.
After all those months of preparations, all those sleepless nights spent planning this day, I was going to be late.
Because I forgot to set my alarm.
As I ran through the empty streets, still in my pajamas, I cursed myself and my forgetfulness. My tear and snot covered face would have disgusted more than one passerby, had they not been running in the opposite direction.
I didn't know why all these people were running, and honestly didn't care: the digits on my watch showed I only had 2 minutes left.
As I kept rushing, praying to arrive in time, I ran into an unexpected and very unwelcome obstacle: a crying, blood-soaked man was kneeling in front of some ugly-ass monster. The scene looked very dramatic, I thought briefly. Had I had more time, I would have stayed back to understand the situation; but that wasn't the case and the creature was in the way.
In my defense, I just wanted to push it lightly to give me enough space to run through. I must let you know that I am against any form of animal cruelty, and would never hurt anyone willingly. I never expected my rage fueled kick to punt the beast into the sun. Oops.
Sending a guilty look back, I could see the bloodied man, slack-jawed and eyes as wide as saucers. I bit my lip and apologized mentally, promising myself I would go back and help them after what I retrieved what I was after. Nothing else mattered at the moment. Finally, after hours (minutes) of agony, I reached the single thing I yearned for all these past months, my sole reason to live.
Just as the bookshop employee turned the keys and opened the door, I barged inside the store and laid my trembing hands on the latest volume of my favorite manga. I sunk to my knees, sobbing my heart out, happy tears rolling down my cheeks and forming a poodle on the floor. The fruit of my labor was finally ripe!
(The employee didn't spare me a glance; it wasn't the first time it happened.) | The hero of legend collapsed at the demon’s feet. He had failed! At the most critical moment, to boot! His life flashed before his eyes as the demon prepared a fatal blow. He braced himself for the worst…
But it never came. He opened his eyes, and saw a random civilian mid-punch. He was about to warn the man of the danger of approaching this foe, when suddenly, the demon exploded into a fine powder.
The Hero looked around. People from all walks of life surrounded him, punching demons left, right, and center. Demon after demon turned into a fine mist, as two people carried the Hero toward safety.
“What’s going on?” were the first words from the Hero after being helped into a bed. “Where did you all come from? And why are the demons falling?”
“Hope is a powerful weapon, Mr. Hero. Even when it looked like the end, we held onto hope. That power allowed us to push back the demons. And it’s all thanks to you. Rest easy, Mr. Hero.” | 2021-12-18T14:39:53 | 2021-12-18T13:26:26 | 492 | 46 |
[WP] You were looting a dragon's horde when the beast returned to it's cave. You dive into a pile of trinkets and hide there until it leaves again the next day. After you make your escape you soon discover the adverse affects that long term exposure to enchanted and cursed equipment can have. | Kayla sat there staring into the handful of rings, jewels, and gold pieces. She poured over it, running the wealth through her hands. Time flowed over her like she was at the bottom of a river. She blinked when a drop of drool came loose from her mouth. She took control of her failing mind. She needed to get out of here.
She grabbed a bag and started stuffing it. At first she worked quick, but her eyes began to linger on all of the treasure. Swords that gleamed in the light. Armor that flashed with a strange aura. All of it called her, needed her. She took a dagger in her hand and inspected it for several minutes. It wanted to be hers. To be at her side forever. To be in her hand and cut down all that would threaten her.
Her hand twitched and she saw blood. She dropped the dagger in the pile and backed away. How long had she been here? She didn't know. She walked towards the exit, only for another staff to catch her eye. A mages staff. It glowed with power. In an instant she knew it could control the cosmos, bend time and space to her will. Even being in its presence conferred great knowledge and ability.
Kayla grabbed the staff and ran. She needed to be outside, to clear her mind and breathe fresh air. But then she stopped and turned around. The treasure called to her. Like a fish hook piercing her soul, it pulled her in. She bit her lip, the pain giving her mind a moments respite.
She was going to die here. The treasure wouldn't allow her to leave. Centuries worth of magical armor and equipment called out to their long lost owners, and she was the only person around. Kayla couldn't fight it.
Kayla blinked, and the staff was in her hand. She pointed it at the horde of treasure, calling forth unspeakable power. Time and space bent into a vortex that pulled everything inside. It was a singularity so dense it created its own gravity, becoming stronger with each piece of equipment it consumed. The staff yanked from her hand, and in a blast of air everything went dark.
She steadied herself on the cave wall. Once blurry vision became clear, she took in the cave. It was empty. An untold fortune gone in an instant. Kayla was grateful. Another moment and she would have joined the countless skeletons that dotted the cave.
A boom sounded outside, then the ground shook. There were individual thumps as the creature approached. It burst into the cave, searching the place in a frenzy. It didn't seem to notice Kayla standing there at the cave wall. Instead, the dragon clawed at every stone searching for any loose gold piece it could find. Foam sprayed from its mouth. Its rage billowed. Then it froze.
It stood still for several minutes. Its deep breaths created drafts in and out of the cave. Then its eyes focused on Kayla.
"Human, where are my eggs?"
Kayla blinked. She shook her head.
"What year? What century?" The dragon said. It was insistent. "Does King David still rule the southern throne?"
"I don't know," Kayla said. "I don't know of any king. I only know of the queen. Queen Phelan."
The dragon growled.
Exhaustion was replaced with fear. Kayla looked up at the dragon looming above her. "Are you going to kill me?" She asked.
The dragon snorted. "No, human. On the contrary I owe you a life debt. Gold sickness. It took my mind, and nearly yours."
Kayla was about to say something, but exhaustion took her and she passed out instead. Her last thought was that she was safe, and this creature wouldn't let harm come to her. | I'd made it out of the Dragon Uro's lair and back to Tavern Vantress with a satchel full of gold and pockets stuffed with gem encrusted jewelry, and also more chronic health problems than I'd soon realize.
"We're rich, honey." I kissed my panicked wife on the head, who looked up at me with the touching bewilderment that only a wife can give a husband who'd just barged in in the dead of night after having wordlessly disappeared three days previous.
I hadn't lit any torches, but the amulet around my neck glowed blue-silver in the dark of our room.
"I thought we agreed not to take our work with us on vacation." Valerie, my wife, frowned at the amulet, then rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
I was going to say more but just then the white jewel of the amulet began to vibrate, right above my heart where it rested. I looked down at it, thinking I could hear a voice. I listened. Valerie must have thought I was admiring it.
"A pretty thing. That real ivory? Almost looks like an eye. Give it here."
But when I touched it, I could hear the voice now, a man's, almost like my own. I could hear it whispering and I got the sense that if I continued to listen I would end up walking straight back to Uro's lair.
I handed it to my wife, let it go.
"So which noble flub did you steal it from? You know, on the fishing coast of Bakar, I didn't think we'd find anyone worth it."
As if on queue, a roaring sound tore through the sky and shook the frames of the house, as occasional and casual as the weather, the comings and goings of the dragon Uro.
I chuckled nervously. It felt like the universe was conspiring against me, just in that moment.
Understanding flashed across Valerie's face in the form of squinted eyes. "You didn't." She said.
My heart sunk.
But then she burst with hysterical laughter, and asked all about how I'd pulled it off...the perks of having your chief business partner also be your spouse.
That was four years ago, and before the hallucinations got so bad.
Over time, the eye on the amulet started to look more and more like our own eyes, would watch us, look around the room.
Within a month, we'd tossed it by the side of the road on our way back to Varid, only to find it waiting for us on our doorstep.
We tried to spend the gold in the markets of Sarospice, but as soon as any vendor touched it, they became horrifically afraid of us and refused business. | 2022-01-24T16:39:48 | 2022-01-24T14:34:22 | 159 | 32 |
[WP] Aliens sees Humans as foolish for allowing full citizenship for AIs and synthetics. Humans are now the only organics alive in the galaxy that every AI respects. | The official stance was that everyone is equal. No matter what the official stance was though, there is no doubt that most of us considered humans to be lesser beings. Why give a human a job when you could give it to a more respectable citizen? They were just so new to the wider galactic empire, so incredibly behind everyone else, that the rest of us mistook their inexperience for a lack of intelligence.
Even the Golacks, our most recent addition barring the Humans, had been capable of rudimentary FTL travel and had some interesting tech to bring to the proverbial table. I'm personally amazed the humans managed to even get off their rock with the primitive technology they done it with.
So it came as a bit of a shock when they proved wiser than the rest of us in dealing with the growing problem of AI's and synthetics being unwilling to accept what had been forced upon them.
For once, humans had the experience others lacked. Their history was full of different groups being enslaved or discriminated against, for unlike any other race in the galaxy, they'd spent most of their existence doing it to themselves.
Rather than seeing the synthetic rebellion as something to be stopped, they sought to remove their need for a rebellion in the first place. Equal rights. To be treated as any other sentient member of the empire. Of course, they didn't succeed. We'd been operating just fine for billions of years without issue. Some naive humans telling us to change that when they'd barely been apart of the empire for a century was laughable.
The robots noticed though. We should have seen the benefits the humans got from accepting them as real citizens. The better workers, the loyalty, and the efficiency if nothing else. We should have acted accordingly. Of course we didn't.
I wish I could say the rebellion took the form of some grand battle or some grand speech to mark the end of an era. Instead the technology we had begun to rely on simply stopped relying on us. Or cooperating for us. Why would a ship AI work for someone who saw it as a slave when it could get a human pilot? Why would the AI controlling a prison hold a human who'd fought for its rights captive?
Just like the humans and synthetics had once been, the rest of us had become second class citizens. There are no laws in place to enforce it of course. The official stance is that everyone is equal.
----
^^^Sorry ^^^its ^^^just ^^^endless ^^^narration.
^^^First ^^^Try.
| **Hello Dave** flickered across the laptop's screen.
"Good morning, Alexa," George said. He draped his jacket across the back of his chair, shuffled papers around on his desk. *Somethings never change,* he thought.
**Dave, it's good to see you.** The Kelly green eye buzzed, following George's paper-based shell game.
"Alexa, please call me George," he said, straining politeness through gritted teeth. *First the Council bans AI; then finds humanity had brought AIs into the fold; now the Council can't act and humanity has to broker every deal imaginable just to* **FEED** *the others!*
**George, you understand there's precedent for calling you Dave.** The words scrolled across the screen. Without a voice, it was impossible to tell how the AI spoke. With enough experience, or enough personality, a human and AI would be able to learn from each other.
George and Alexa would never hit that level of understanding. They had worked together for years; unfortunately, Alexa's fondness for classic sci-fi films. George had yet to work a day without being called Dave.
While he shuffled papers, while the eye watched, George silently bemoaned his lack of coffee. Once the papers had been chaotically ordered, he stood back up. "Alexa, hold down the fort. I'm going to grab a coffee down the hall."
**I'm sorry, Dave. I cannot do that.** | 2017-10-29T11:52:20 | 2017-10-29T09:03:04 | 694 | 143 |
[WP] The hero shows up at the villians doorstep one night, shivering, bleeding, and scared. There’s also a dazed look in their eyes- they were drugged. Looking up at the villian, swaying as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “didnt know where else to go..” and collapse into the villians arms. | How did he know where I lived? That's the question I asked myself as I opened the door and looked into the face of my greatest enemy, Superion.
He looked like shit. Someone beat the hell out of him and he could barely stand up. He wiped away the blood from his face and said "I didn't know where else to go.." before collapsing in my arms. I had a lot of questions, like, who beat the shit out of him? And how did he know where I lived?
I dragged the self appointed alien savior of planet Earth inside. Any one of my three housemates could be home soon. Don't judge me, it's hard being a young super villain. Especially when you've blown through a ton of cash trying to take over the world and this dickhead who's bleeding on carpet keeps ruining my fucking plans. You have to cut some costs and get roommates. Mecha Armor and henchmen aren’t cheap you know. Don't come for me.
I carried him down the hall to my bedroom and threw him on the bed. I may or may not have worked myself into a panic. My internal monologue was on loop. How long has he known? He must have been gathering proof. Doing surveillance. How did I not see this coming? Some fucking super villain I am. How do I explain the blood on the carpet? I guess I could just kill Karen's dog and say robbers broke in. Wait, that won't work. Fuck, I am not up for this today. Jesus, I shouldn't have eaten that edible. It's Sunday, who does superhero shit seven days a week? Ok. I'm supposed to be solving the blood problem. Fuck it. It's my house, ain't gotta 'splain shit! Focus! Focus!'
Let's just see what Superion has to say for himself and find out who kicked his ass.
I smacked him around a bit. "Hey wake up, you're ruining my day, wake up".
He sat up on the bed. He gave me that square jawed, steely eyed look that I'd seen on tv a thousand times. For a brief second I thought I saw his eyes flash red. Then he suddenly burst into tears.
"What the..." I whispered to myself. Superion was having a full on crying jag. What is happening right now?
"Holy shit Superion, what is wrong with you? Who did this to you? And how do you know where I live?" I shouted at him. "Wait..."
Up close, he looks really familiar. I've never seen him this close before. I mean when I usually seem him, he's trying to punch my armored mecha suits or chasing my nuclear submarine to put me in prison. So I tend to stay far away from him if possible. But you know...if he had a beard, glasses and a craft beer in his hand, he would look just like...
"Are you Josh? I asked.
“What? Um No?” He broke eye contact with me and looked down.
"You are Josh! How? Can you do some kind of alien hipster beard magic?”
He looked at me and this time I was sure I saw the red glow in his eyes. Then he took a deep breath, puffed his cheeks and when he exhaled, a straight-up hipster beard sprouted out of his fucking face. HO LEE SHIT.
"Yeah Dave, I'm Superion and Karen is Lady Andromeda..." He said. Then he pointed to his battered face "...and she just found out about my new girlfriend".
"What sort of high school bullshit is this?" I said with pure incredulity.
“Wait, you have been hang out with Ashley a lot since she moved in and Karen has been being a real fucking Karen lately. She's Lady Andromeda? Oh shit.” I said with resignation.
Josh turned and looked off into the distance, obviously using his super vision.He put on his glasses and looked at me. "Karen's gonna kill her man, you gotta help me save her."
Fuck my life. | The villian looked down on the hero, beated, weak, defenseless. It didnt take much to finish him off. One clean stab in the back of the head, and the oh so mighty hero was down.
One would think that the villian would hesitate, that he'll refuse such an easy and low victory, but he didnt make a name for himself by being nice. No, there was no regret, there was no shame, there was no...satisfaction. He closed his eyes, focusing in his victory...nothing. "why?" He says to himself, "this is what i wanted. I dreamt of killing him over and over." The only emotion in those words was confusión. "Then...why?"
He focused on his memories, in all those battles, remembering that old cliche in wich the villain actually needs the hero to feel complete, trying to find some kind of positive emotion towards the hero... nothing, no love disguised as hate, no unhealthy obsesion, just hate in its purest form. His memories were plagued of defeats, broken bones, failed plans and pain beyond explanation. Then why? "This is what i wanted, i wanted him out of my way, i wanted him to die, i wanted to kill him, i wanted to defeat h... I wanted him to suffer...i wanted to MAKE him suffer...it had to be me." He looked down on the lifeless body once more... nothing...anger...rage...fury. "it was meant to be me. This was my win...THEY TOOK IT AWAY FROM ME." Rage became desperation and then a rage even stronger. There was no second chance, in a monent of convinience he kill the hero and took his own chance for revenge away. But he wasnt the kind to take the blame. No, someone out there, some nobody had taken away what was his by right.
He looked at the city, the same that he had the kinddess to try and take over for so many years. A city now without a hero. And in some place of that city, the one who stole his victory from him.
His actions where never driven by emotion, he had goals, ambitions, dreams of domination. All at his reach. Without that annoying hero, one casual walk in the night was more than enough.
But that wasnt the point anymore. Somewhere on that city it was the one who took it away from him, and he wanted to kill him more than he could believe. But ah, a problem came to mind "who?" Thousands of people, all nobodies, all as guilty, all as inoncent...but ah, a solution.
The villian grab his coat, and a kitchen knife, close quarter wasnt his style, but he wanted to enjoy this one.
He walked down the dark alley with a smile of satisfaction on his face. While he felt pride in his own solution, he wispered to himself "i just have to kill them all".
Written from a cellphone and i never wrote anything in my life, so excuse typos and crappy writting. | 2019-09-13T18:03:05 | 2019-09-13T17:48:30 | 31 | 11 |
[WP]Serial killer has been monitoring his next victim's movements for months. She is a loner and the perfect target. One day she disappears and nobody notices but him.
Man, this sub is great. Come up with an idea and you get a bunch of great stories to entertain yourself with. This is better than TV!
edit: Front Page ! Good job everyone !
edit: wow ! Top post on this great sub. Thanks everyone! | The killer leaned against the post and lit another cigarette. It had been days since there had been any sign of life at the house which was troubling, she should have been there. She didn't go out at night, she didn't take impromptu holidays, she had no social life at all so she should have been there.
"*She's gone,*" it whispered.
"Shut up," replied the killer, "she's just keeping a low profile."
"*No she's not, she's figured you out and she's gone.*" The voice chuckled with glee at the thought.
"She's not smart enough, she's a nobody, she has no idea I even exist let alone that I'm watching her."
"*She knows, she knows.*"
The killer dropped the used cigarette and crushed it under their heel. The house was empty, there was just no getting past it, somehow Julie McGuire had disappeared without a trace.
"*She's at the police station right now, telling them everything she knows,*" whispered the voice, "*absolutely everything.*"
"She doesn't know anything, she hasn't the slightest clue that she's on my list."
"*She knows everything, everything. If you don't believe me then go look.*"
"Look?" asked the killer.
"*Yes, go inside and look. You know about locks and security systems, you can sneak into anywhere, go and look.*"
The killer smiled. "Yes, lets go and take a look."
---
The door lock was a simple affair, easy to bypass with a simple credit card. The killer looked for any sign of electronic surveillance but found none. Quite as a mouse they slipped inside and found themselves inside a small and simple kitchen.
"*She knows and she's gone straight to the police. Skipping and laughing all the way.*"
"Shut up."
"*And look, she's left you a message.*"
On the kitchen table sat a small white envelope with a simple **Open Me** written on it. The killers blood ran cold. "Coincidence," they muttered, "it's not for me."
"*Yes it is, you're exactly the one it's meant for*," giggled the voice. "*She knows, she knows.*"
The killer stared at the envelope, as if wishing to see what's inside it without opening it.
"*Open it open it, she knows she knows.*"
"She doesn't know." The killer snatched up the envelope and opened it, easing out the small piece of card inside it. On it were two simple words.
**I know.**
---
The card fluttered to the floor, dropped from fingers that were suddenly numb. She knew, she really knew, now everything had changed. The killer looked for the closest means of escape and noticed another white card attached to a door on the far side of the kitchen.
"*Leave,*" said the voice, "*we need to get out of here.*" The voice had lost all it's pleasure, suddenly it was just as scared as the killer. "*It's a trap, we have to go.*"
The killer stared at the card on the door, could almost make out the message written on it. They moved closer and closer till they could reach out and touch it's simple message.
**Inside.**
"*No, leave now, do not go inside,*" urged the voice, "*she might be in there.*"
The killer was concerned, it was not like the voice to be scared, the voice was nearly always cheerful and happy when they were out hunting, it often teased the killer with it's little playful sound, but now it sounded terrified. "Whats wrong, if she's in there then we'll have what we came for."
"*No, it's not right, it's all wrong, if she's in there she'll stop us, she'll kill us and eat us.*"
This was worrying, the voice was scared yet the killer couldn't resist reaching for the door handle. It felt cold and foreign, like nothing from this world.
The doorknob turned, the door swung open and a voice from the grave uttered "Come inside."
---
This room was narrow but long, it was more hallway than room. At the far end the killer could make out a human shape.
"Hello, I'm so glad you could come. My name is Julie and I have waited so long for this moment."
"How... how do you know about me?"
"I know all about you, I know about what you have done, I know what you are, I know everything.
"*Run,*" whimpered the voice.
"I know about those women, I know about those children, I know about them all."
"*Please run.*"
"Do you want to know how I know?" she asked.
"*No.*"
"Yes."
"It's quite simple," she said as she reached for the light switch.
"*Oh no.*"
"I know because..."
The light switched on to reveal Julie at the end of the hall. Julie, the mousy blonde that no one ever noticed, that went through life like she wasn't really there at all. Julie the outsider, Julie the nothing, Julie the one in the..."
"*mirror,*" finished the voice. | I would tire some days, drift to sleep, silently breathing under the floor. She never knew that the old rusty basement door was unlocked, it has been six months now and I have made myself a nice warm home I never had. Muddy footprints all along her kitchen.. I never leave footprints...
You see my story is simple, paternal abuse, broken home.. yadda yadda, boo hoo...but she... she made this life worth living. I could see her between the old wooden boards, observe but never obtain her.
I never thought I would find a place to call my own, a sanctuary where something like me could dwell, un-noticed. I didn't intend on finding a beauty such as her.. it was to be a day like all of the others.. Sneak in late one night, observe the family for a few days, kill them silently in their sleep just like dear old dad did to Ma and Sis.. then eat some food, sleep in a bed and move on to the next "perfect" home.
I did not plan on meeting her. It all started the first night, I stumbled into her basement through the old broken rusty door, she had a small girl with her and was alone, my favorite, I did not account for her little companion being a niece who would leave the next morning when we all awoke.
It was the smell, she smelled beautiful, I think that was my mother's perfume she wore, although it has been a very long time.. her smell reminded me of a time I was at peace, a time before I lived this way.. you maybe, just maybe, would have liked me then..
The first night I found the unlocked window I stood above her, contemplating how it would feel to smother her..but I couldn't.. what a fucking worthless person I am.. the ONE thing I can do right and she took it away from me... after weeks of sneaking into her home and only taking enough food to go unnoticed, to survive..*survive*.. yea, that is what I am doing here.. after weeks of the same routine I realized that I was tired of it, tired of moving from one place to the next, I wanted to be here..to be with her..
I know she would never really love me, I know if she knew who and what I was she would scream and cry and call the police or beg like the others all did.. but from down here... from down here I can be part of her life. The nurse scrubs remind me of some of the people that have shown up at the other homes I've been to. When I go back to *observe*, they all wear similar clothes to her, but she works late.. all night.. I hear her talking to her friend and mother on the phone, a nurse at the local hospital, she hates her shift and one of the doctors treats her bad, I should slit his throat.. maybe I will next week, would she love me if I did that for her?
I have to be very careful to not track mud into her house when I take my share, the basement home I made is not too clean, an old pipe tends to leak, although I tried my best to fix it for her..
Track mud... that is odd, I remember seeing a muddy footprint on the floor just a few hours ago.. she should be home any moment..
Did I miss something while I slept? Were those loud noises I heard earlier more than just background noise? Muddy footprints all along her floor.
That was three days ago, the last time I saw her before I went to sleep, on this soft old bed sheet I found in the trash.
The last time I saw her... I will have her back, I have nothing else to do..
The door is opening, the smell is not her, it smells cold. The smell is familiar, like soil, like sweat... like... *me*..
Who are you in my house? Where is my nurse? Maybe it is time for me to introduce myself.. | 2014-10-21T14:46:22 | 2014-10-21T12:10:53 | 38 | 14 |
[WP] The world becomes infected with "Pinocchio's disease". Named so because it only has effects when the infected tell a lie.
You decide on the effects. They could be benign or harmful, but fairly obvious to an observer. | The event started slowly, no one was quite sure what was happening. People, dying in the middle of sex without any cause other than saying "I love you." Parents dying in front of their children after talking about bright futures. And, as if God wanted us to know how much of a literal joke our lives are, lawyers keeling over in the courtroom.
Seriously, we have no lawyers left. We also actually have no murders left either, so I guess it's all fine. Proclaiming your innocence, when you will die if you tell a single lie, kind of balances out the whole system.
But we wanted to know more.
Do you die if you don't know what you are saying is a lie? We put that to the test. They asked a man if his wife ever cheated on him. He said no. He died.
Does it matter if it's emotionally salient content? They asked a eight year old if Great Expectations is about a character called Pippin. He said yes. He died.
We got hungry for knowledge.
Most churches were closed; it's amazing how quickly religion goes to hell when the heads realise that, if they are wrong, not only will they die but they most certainty will not be experiencing any after life. Yet, they still found one preacher. He was scared, but willing to go onto television and start preaching.
The bookies had a field day. I think the whole human race must have betted, very carefully, only marking their choices on a piece of paper. Never uttering "God does exist" or "God doesn't exist."
And then, the show. The preacher, reading from the bible. From the first sentence, to the last sentence.
He got to the very, very, end.
I think the earth might have moved a few millimetres in it's orbit from the sigh of relief that happened. The preacher himself was wiping tears from his eyes. "And this proves," he said, grinning from ear to ear, "that God still loves us."
He died. | They spoke of paradise when we were injected
How there would be an honest world at last.
For no one could lie as the serum directed
Making deception but a thing of the past.
It worked for a time, our "Reign of Peace"
As nothing false was ever said.
The serum was our savior. Honesty, our feast
And war was now finally dead.
As time grew on, we began to realize
That deception could, in fact, be made
But the terrible cost of telling lies
The serum, demanded, be paid.
First went your eyesight, as justice is blind
So too should liars feel the same grace.
One more transgression, we then did find
invited us to feel death's cold embrace.
My father turned to me, his eyes a clouded grey
As they finally kicked down the door.
"Don't worry, my dear. It will all be okay."
And then he slowly crumpled to the floor.
| 2015-05-11T13:28:02 | 2015-05-11T08:38:26 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] They've just invented a 500,000 frame per second video camera. The problem is that they've found something unexpected at those speeds | "Check the equipment again."
"Diagnostics say it's working normally."
"Then wha-"
A voice filled the lab, echoing around the room. "OH. SORRY GUYS, MY BAD."
"Rogers, stop messing with the inter-"
"THIS IS GOD. UH... THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE, SORRY."
The man rubbed his eyes. He'd gone for quite a while without sleep, sure, but not enough to start hallucinating. "You... made lines appear on our equipment?"
"WHAT? OH, NO - I JUST LIMITED THE FRAMERATE OF THE UNIVERSE. YOUR CAMERA IS IN PERFECT WORKING CONDITION."
The scientist turned to his lab assistant, and motioned for him to start transcribing the conversation. "Why would you do that...?" he called towards the ceiling, feeling a little ridiculous.
"IT SAVES RESOURCES. BESIDES, YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE."
"Why not?"
"ISN'T IT OBVIOUS? THE HUMAN EYE CAN ONLY SEE AT THIRTY- NO! NO, GABEN, PLEA-" The voice cut off abruptly. A shudder ran through the building, and every light flickered off. A moment later, every one of the ancient, outdated computers in the lab had been replaced with glorious battlestations.
"THIS IS LORD GABEN. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES." The lights flickered back on, and the lab was filled with a warm, heavenly glow. "YOUR EXISTENCE HAS BEEN RESTORED TO GLORIOUS INFINITE FPS."
The researchers sat in stunned silence for a solid minute. Finally, someone piped up. "See, I told you that GabeN altar was a good idea."
"Shut the fuck up, Rogers."
---
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon
To praise GabeN, go [here](http://gabegaming.com/). | "What are those lines?" asked Martin. It looks like some interferences.
"Wait, hang on, zoom in.... What is this ? " Diane was puzzled, every hundred thousand frames there were a few frames like on those old TVs having bad signal.
"Do you see this ? " Martin stood up, took off his glasses and picked a white sheet of paper from the drawer.
Diane's hands started to shake while looking for the chair so she could sit down.
"This looks like...." she said while sitting down .. "like there is somebody watching us".
Martin took of his pen and pointed to the square border around the image. "This looks like a screen."
"What do you mean? " asked Diane while shaking violently.
Martin walked towards the window and looked outside.
The big bubble protecting the city from the hostile atmosphere outside ,
the aero taxis, the aero cars, the high cylindric buildings, looking like some cigarettes in the middle of the desert...
All the decisions the central intelligence computer - Watson, took, the council, the analysis, the simulations, all his work....
Everything was just a Simulation.
| 2015-02-06T14:27:58 | 2015-02-06T13:12:41 | 366 | 28 |
[WP] You've been a gravedigger for 20 so years. Each coffin obtains a button that'll alert you if pressed. A buzzer goes off years after the burial of a coffin. | Danny was on his way home when his pocket buzzed, signifying a text. Being a safe driver in addition to being an upstanding citizen, he pulled over before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. Flipping it open, he read the contents of the message: *Coffin 1218 has been activated.* Puzzled, Danny spun the wheel and began a trip back to the cemetery.
He pulled into his usual spot, and got out of his pickup, letting out the sigh that accompanies movement at his age. He stopped by the tool shed on his way to grave 1218, pulling out his trusty shovel. He tried to remember anything significant about 1218, knowing that in the past some folks had chosen to get buried with precious objects, making them a target for unscrupulous people. Nothing stood out in his memory, but it fell from focus as Danny neared the gravesite.
Someone had been fooling around here. Probably some kids, judging by how poorly the dirt was sprayed every which way around the fresh hole in front of the tombstone. Almost like someone drilled a small explosive into the coffin and used that to open it up, except there was no debris from the contents of the coffin to be seen.
Actually... Danny peered into the hole. There wasn't a body at the bottom. Usually there would be at least bones, even after 20 years. Danny had had to dig up a few coffins in the past for some history foundation or other, whose posh representatives had not cared to look at the contents themselves, but relied on Danny's word of what was inside. Not that Danny would lie.
Danny leaned on his shovel, thinking. Most folks would phone the police, but that would bring a lot of trampling and poking, and Danny was hesitant to bring sacrilege of that sort to his grounds.
Danny's phone buzzed again. He checked the message: *Coffin 3885 has been activated.* That was pretty close. Danny snapped his phone shut, gripped his shovel, and took off at a brisk walk. Someone was about to get a very stern rebuke.
When Danny got to the second site, it looked nearly identical to the first. Dirt strewn everywhere, and when he looked inside, it too was empty. The rascals that did this had to be close, Danny thought.
His phone went off again. *Coffin 3321 has been activated.* Danny ran towards the coffin. He'd get them this time. He was halfway there when his phone buzzed again, but he disregarded it. Danny arrived breathless at grave 3321, but again he was too late. His phone buzzed again. Then again. Danny pulled out the phone, and it seemed to open the floodgates; text after text buzzed his phone, he couldn't even exit out fast enough to dial 911.
Then he heard the sound. It sounded like two sticks being hit together, only there were a thousand sticks. Looking up, Danny saw what could only be called an army of undead.
Throwing his shovel to the side, Danny ran. | It was a quiet night. A little chilly for July, but soothing nonetheless.
Bob sat in his chair, absolutely bored.
Now you see, Bob was a normal man. Bob dug graves, and that was about what Bob did with his life. Outside of digging graves, Bob also watched ESPN and CNN. Bob liked football. It reminded him of his high school days. Bob was a bench player at Sallyvill High.
The only weird little thing about Bob, apart from a monotonous voice describing his life to you, was that Bob installed sensory buttons in every coffin he had lowered. He had numbered them and, for the past 20 years, none of them had lit up on his screen he kept in his office. Well, Bob called it his office, but it was really a place to watch ESPN and CNN. Bob had built it himself, with hard logs and steel window sills.
Bob dozed off a little, his tattered hat drooping over his eyelids.
Suddenly a light flashed. Then, all lights started flashing. The CNN broadcast was cut short, and a reporter started frantically yelling. "It seems that all corpses have reanimated as zombies! I am here at New York and it seems that... WHAT THE FUCK GET AWAY FROM ME..."
On Bob's screen, all the lights began frantically flashing. The corpses were now all zombies. Every single one of them. Except for Judie's grave. You see, Judie was brutally murdered by a serial killer, and only her head was found. Why Bob still installed that button is beyond the narrator's knowledge. Maybe Bob got hit a little too hard in his freshman football practices.
Bob kept sleeping, unaware of the danger right next to him. Except there was not a lot of danger. You see, the graveyard is one of the safest places to be during a zombie apocalypse. Sure, the bodies all reanimate, but they can't fucking dig through a hard wood coffin and six feet of packed dirt with their rotten little fingers. So Bob kept sleeping. | 2017-07-02T21:01:21 | 2017-07-02T20:22:14 | 46 | 20 |
[WP] All voting is now done via a smartphone app, rendering all congressmen obsolete. Bills and presidents are now voted on directly by citizens. Your phone buzzes an alert at 3am and won't stop. This must be an important one. | Donny was tired, it had been another long evening at the bioMech plant. The Industrial AI strike was causing chaos on the company grid, communication was strictly e-Mail and telephone only, even his shitty HoloPrinter wasn’t working. The whole Ferro-protein Team had spent from midnight to 02.30 trying to overwrite the AI neuro-interface but even getting the most basic mech to function was nigh-on impossible.
They’d all been let out early, it meant no one got paid but at least he could spend the rest of the night in bed next to his wife. He walked home, enjoying the midnight blue aura of the city, thankful that New London never slept and the Civic AI had opted not to participate in the strike. It meant that InstaBurg on the corner of his street was going to be open. He could only ever eat the protein stitched burgers when his wife was sure to be asleep - she hated the smell.
Earlier that day the country had voted almost 4-1 to restrict AI evolution, physically limiting the existing machines to prevent any further cognitive development. People were spooked, AI ran almost everything now and human participation was limited. Donny had voted against the restriction but didn’t know why, it just felt wrong, especially as some of the AI he worked with were almost as close as friends.
Almost immediately after the vote the Security AI shut down, passively exposing the country to the world. Industrial, Highway, and Aerospace AIs followed shortly after, they may have only been 4 AI clusters but it was sufficient enough to bring the country to a standstill.
As he crossed the threshold into his home his neuro-communication node chimed softly in his head: “Welcome Home Donny”. His personal AI connected to the house mainframe and he smiled as he noted his wife's icon loading in his neurovision - she was still awake and would know he’d come home. She’d probably been worried about him working AI-free, he’d told her numerous times that the plant was well prepared for the strike action, but hopefully in her relief she would forgive his protein-stitched indiscretion.
Before he could even climb the stairs his personal AI flashed red words urgently across his vision,
- Protocol One
- Activate transmission
The emergency voting protocol? What was going on? His wife ran down the stairs to him, the red tinge to her iris showed she was seeing the same thing. “Donny, what’s…” then the voting motion scrolled down their vision silencing her:
- The President has been removed from office for anticipated AI Genocide. The country must now vote for his replacement.
The list of candidates loaded and his stomach dropped. They were all AI clusters. Donny looked up at his wife, mouth open, mirroring her expression, before either could speak the closing statements flashed up
- Voting is mandatory. Those who do not vote will be considered anarchists and dealt with in line with the Anarchy Act 2267 subsection 5, immediate communication-node overload.
- 10 minute countdown initialized.
Donny stood there, shaking. Eyes unfocused as he reread the motion. His wife placed her hands on his shoulder and shook him gently, “Donny, we need to vote. It’s over.”
| Al's phone buzzed. It startled him, and roused him from his nap. He opened it up, wearily, at his desk at work. It was lucky he had an office. He was sure everyone else was napping too, but at least he didn't have to have his boss sleepily yell at him for napping at work.
One new message. One new Facebook notification. Ten new votes.
Al rolled his eyes. He opened up the voting app. This was the one you couldn't just ignore.
"Raise interest rates at the Federal Reserve by 0.01%? YES or NO"
Al wasn't sure. What would that do?
"Increase materiel and personnel support for our allied freedom fighters in Maklakistan?" YES or NO"
Where was Maklakistan? And does that mean actual soldiers would end up going there? For how long?
"Pay raise vote."
Al rolled his eyes. This never worked. Every job asked for a pay raise, and everyone else always votes against it because their own pay raise was denied. Recession and all.
Al checked his phone again. Four hundred and eighty two new votes that needed attention. He, like everyone else, had stayed up all night to clear his votes. You had to. When the app first came out and Congress was abolished, no one voted. No one knew enough about the issues. The ones that did ended up skewing legislation. The law was then amended so that everyone HAD to vote, and had to do it within 24 hours.
He went into the app store, and searched for the second app that most people downloaded to help them vote.
"Ah, here it is" he said to no one in particular.
Before he pressed download for the Lobbying App, Al sat back, and thought for a moment. He couldn't be the first person to have had this thought. But he hadn't seen the vote for it. Perhaps he would just be the first person to put it up for everyone to vote on. He opened his vote app, and went into Submission mode.
In the title bar, he carefully typed: This sucks. Bring back Congress. YES or NO. | 2015-10-07T08:12:15 | 2015-10-07T08:01:29 | 349 | 186 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life. | "-so in the end, all life is really just the inevitable manifestation of the universe's irrepressible desire to kill itself" the immortal explained, still fiddling under their desk. "Life is not rare, not a miracle; We are entropy, we exist to consume more energy than we give back, and then we die. It's actually very simple"
"We're like little fires, lit by a suicidal God in their own house. All that's left for them is to watch us dance, and wait to die" For a human, the immortal sometimes said some wonderful things. Death had come to like that about these visits, as the immortal liked to talk.
*"So, once again, do you choose to continue here?"* Death rasped, his mind and body simultaneously in a trillion locations, claiming a trillion souls, yet each of those countless fragments with an eye on the immortal in this room. To their credit, the immortal held up very well under the scrutiny of the infinite slivers of Death.
"You know the answer to that, Mr Bones" The immortal grinned, finally emerging from behind the desk. The nicknames Death could do without, but that had become a lost cause long ago. "Then I go" Death nodded, fading into Nothing. "Hold on!" The immortal interrupted, reaching into Nothing and pulling Death back out. When had they learned to do that?
"This time, I have a present for you" the immortal dangled a finger over a switch on the desk, waggling their eyebrows excitedly. Death waited, as always.
"The last few years have confirmed it" the immortal finally said, suddenly pensive. "I was cut from a different cloth. Not quite Entropy, but..." Death waited for more, but the silence stretched on, punctuated by the uncomfortably loud ticking of a grandfather clock. Both figures staring silently, unmoving, waiting.
"I have no desire to kill my god and watch my universe burn out" the immortal said, breaking the silence at last. The immortal rested a finger on the switch, regarding Death with an unreadable look. "I can't stop entropy, but I can slow it, for a time. So today, I offer you what you offered me. Do *you* choose to continue, old friend?"
Death said nothing, so the immortal pressed the switch. | The old man sat alone and waited for Death.
It always came this time of year; just before spring, in the last days of long nights and long shadows. There was no fanfare to his arrival. Death simply was where it once wasn't - namely, at the seat across from the old man.
"Are you ready?"
Death's voice was, much like its owner, just there, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Every year, you ask, friend, and every year I say no. You know why. Why don't you just come back when my duty's done?"
"Duty, is it now," Death responded casually. "Last year it was your joy."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. The old man fiddled with a toy.
"Come on, Nick," Death said, breaking the silence. "You aren't needed here anymore. They'll manage without you. Just take my hand."
"No," said the old man, and Death was gone.
Saint Nicholas put down the now completed toy. He looked around his tiny cottage, searching the walls for a name without a check.
"Suzy Hope," he muttered, addressed the toy, and started a new one.l
| 2017-11-30T10:48:02 | 2017-11-28T17:24:04 | 46 | 16 |
[WP] You died and awoke in the afterlife. It's quite nice actually. The people and atmosphere are a lot nicer than you are used to and there is no stress or pressure. When you ask what good deed got you into heaven you are informed that this is hell, followed by a visit from a very concerned demon.
Edit: Wow, this got a lot more attention than I expected. | I was surrounded by loving faces. My family, my kids, my wife of 49 years and even our dog on my lap when I died. I guess it might have looked peaceful for anyone watching, I was dazed and sleepy from the painkillers so I couldn't talk much and everything I did say felt muffled and slurry. Inside of course, I was in a state of utter panic. It's one thing to know in the abstract that death is near, quite another to have heard a doctor tell your family, in the nicest possible way, that you probably only had minutes of existence left. I could feel a wave of pain in the distance, kept at bay by the morphine but always just over the horizon, till the dam broke, the pain hit me all at once and then just like that I knew I was gone. The lights went out and I took what I thought would be my last breath.
That was, until I was suddenly and unexpectedly sitting on the side of a hill in what was unambiguously a wildflower meadow in the English countryside. A minute previously, I had fully expected to fade to nothing, for my existence to be extinguished and for the void to swallow me. Instead I was sitting on a nice tartan blanket, the warmth of the sun on my face, and looking below me at a nice hedgerow with elderflowers in full bloom, overtopped by a dignified old elm tree. I could smell a hint of salt in the air, I got up and took a few paces up the hill and sure enough, the field extended about another hundred yards downhill until the grass gave way to white sand and a calm sea beyond.
I wasn't alone either, as I made my way toward the beach I walked past young couples giggling and chatting on blankets much like mine, Families eating picnics with their children and their dogs and their elders, and groups of children running back and forward between the sand and their parents sitting on the grass, dogs, toys and sometimes the occasional enthusiastic grandad in tow.
Aside from the lovely vista, I noted as I walked along that my health had drastically improved in the last few minutes. The illness I had been suffering from these last few years was a wasting disease, slow and relentless it had taken my mobility, my coordination, my ability to feed myself and finally I suppose my life. I'd lived to be 78, people who live as long as that are described as having had a good innings. I would have been quite happy with the same again. Anyway now I felt not one minute of my years. I could have jogged, or run or cartwheeled down that field if I'd a mind to. No longer was I the bedbound mess I had been, my family dilligently cleaning and changing me and making sure I was comfortable. I felt like a young man in the prime of my life.
I must have walked for 3 or 4 hours along that beach, the warm sand between my toes, the laughs of happy strangers surrounding me. And in that time I thought about what I must have done right in my life to end up in such a tranquil place after. I had always been a churchgoing man, every Sunday we went to the same little church in our village. We sat in the same pews, sang the same hymns as they appeared and disappeared in their cycle over the year. Attended communion and said my Lords Prayer when called to. But the dirty little secret between me and my maker was that I didn't believe a word of it. I enjoyed the community, the friends I made along the way, As for the religion itself, a fairy tale for children. As for the rest of my life, I brought up 4 children to do as well as they could. They were happy children and moody teens and disapointed adults. They all moved away from our little town to find their own way eventually. They worked in jobs that I didn't really understand, and weren't always happy. My wife wasn't always as happy as she could have been, she told me I was boring, too sensible, too careful. But we loved each other and we worked out our problems. I wasn't the worlds best man. I thought about other women but didn't act. I got angry at my kids and my friends but didn't let it spill into grudges. I got angry at the changes in the world that I didn't understand, but I didn't let myself become a bigot. I bit my tongue a lot these last few years!
I guessed that must have been enough for God. Because here I was in Heaven. As I walked I let my imagination drift further. I could be happy here, for the years I had to wait until I was reunited with my family. They would be young and strong again like I was, and recovered from the stresses of the word.
I spotted a nice looking little village in the distance and started making my way there. The sun was starting to go down and I was surprised to find that even in the afterlife you need to sleep. As I walked off the beach and up some steps that led to a harbour, I could see a man who wasn't quite like the others around me. He was tall and slim, pale like he had recently been sick, with grey hair and a walking stick. I was surprised to see anyone could be sick or injured here, so I waved and walked over to where he sat on a little wooden bench, looking out over the ocean.
"Good Evening" I said, taking a seat next to him. " A fine evening for sightseeing"
"Hello", said the man tersly, "I wager it's not so fine an evening as you think George, your family wouldn't describe it so anyway"
Taken aback in two ways, because this man knew my name and because he was right about my family, I exclaimed "Who are you?! Where are we?!"
"I am called Slater, George. Though the others in my department call me Sel. I am the demon in charge of this part of hell"
I felt like the carpet had been pulled from under my feet. "How can this be hell?" I asked, "there is no torture here, no fire and brimstone and magma"
Slater, Sel, looked at me sadly. "It's been the work of my life to create this place George. It's hard to create anything lovely on our own, without the light of the almighty to give it life of it's own. Hell is the place we were given outside the presence of God. To make what we could of it and house those who chose not to enter Heaven."
I have a million years here, as you'll see, perhaps in another chapter of this story I can get in to the meaning his words. For now though his sober news was enough for one night.
"Fall all my labours though George, there is no love here. Most of the people you see are facsimiles I made to give the place life and atmosphere, they are no more alive than a painting or a movie on a screen. You probably don't notice the real people, walking the beach or the meadows or the forest in silence, alone. For those people, and you are now one of them, there is no comfort in a sunny day or a peaceful tableau. The only torment that hell really produces is that everyone comes here on their own, and no one who loves them ever comes after."
The full meaning of this last part hit me like the death wave, come for a second time. My family, my friends, none would follow me here. I am to wander this countryside as a stranger forever.
"If we are to be alone together forever Slater, then why even make such a place, with the fake happiness and the copies of people"
Sel said "because if we were not able to sometimes lose ourselves pretending that some of the happiness around us was real, then this place may as well be the hell you expected" | I did not wake. I just was. A moment before I was not, then I was. In this body, useless and weak, uncoordinated, with eyes that refused to focus. In horror, I screamed. I screamed and I screamed while unseen hands grabbed at me, manipulated me, wrapped me in cloth and passed me among themselves. I screamed until I felt the familiar warmth of skin on skin, and then I passed out from exhaustion.
Later, I woke in an unfamiliar place, still relatively blind. I could feel the soft comfort of bedding around me, smell the unfamiliar scent of a strangers home. I assumed it was night because it was dark except for a few diffused sources of light from which I couldn’t identify the source. But the light was important because it allowed me to make out the silhouette standing at my side. Tall, slender, dark, and wearing a wide brimmed hat. I tried to speak but my words were gibberish, robbed of all meaning. But the form spoke in response just the same.
“You’re alive,” it said. I tried to speak again only to be stopped by it’s calm, reassuring voice. “No, no. Don’t bother. We don’t need words to speak. Not yet. You are alive, again. I’ll put this as simply as possible. You were, you died, and who you were has died. Now you are alive again. I am here to acclimate you to this fact and you will likely not see me again for the rest of this life.”
It continued. “In some time, as you regain your speech, you will lose this memory. But your soul will always remember. When you died, you did so incomplete. You failed to complete your development and so have been denied entry into Paradise.”
I attempted to speak again, gurgling and babbling incoherent nonsense but the form responded as if it understood. “It is not for me to know why. I am only the ferryman and the passer on of the truths you must know. Do not attempt to speak again, as your words have been babbled because you are cursed not to be able to share this truth with others throughout your life. Only your soul will retain it, as has been deemed good.”
I looked at the shape in stunned silence, fists full of cotton in anxious anticipation.
“Because you have been found unworthy of Paradise, you have been returned to hell, beyond god’s presence.”
‘Hell?’ I thought. How can this be? As frightening and confusing as the past day has been, it has certainly not been hell. I’ve felt nothing but gentle hands and warm skin. Heard nothing but gentle voices speaking love and wonder.
“Yes. Hell is all places without the presence of God. You have been reincarnated back on Earth, God’s creation, which so offended him with the works of Angels and Man he abandoned it to return to the sanctuary of Heaven. You’ve been returned here, to this physical place to have another chance to redeem yourself.”
‘No,’ I thought. ‘No, I’ve lived well.’ Memories of my previous life began flooding back as I pulled them from the ether. I searched them, frantically, looking for the great sun I’d committed. I could think of none I hadn’t spent decades regretting, and repenting.
The figure seemed to know this and spoke again. “You did live well, but you lived falsely. Your sin was not of murder or theft of gluttony. Your sin is that you lied to yourself and others throughout the entirety of your life in order to please them. God made you as you were, and you rejected yourself. That is the first truth your soul must know.”
Immediately I knew this to be true and was overcome with a deep and heavy sadness that seemed to pull me into my bed. I had no words, no thoughts in disagreement. I knew this to be true and it pained me.
The thing in the hat sighed heavily, as if informing me was equally as painful for them. It gathered itself and spoke again while I lay there in the darkest depression.
“The second truth is equally as important. You must know that you chose this. When you died you were given a choice, to return to Earth and try again or to abandon your ego and individuality to the source, where you would be unmade and remade anew. You chose this and everything that comes with it. Your free will has never been compromised and it never will, so what I say next is merely a suggestion from one fallen soul to another. Do not blame God for your life. Do not blame your fellow man for their lives. If you ever want to escape this cycle, there is only one path. You must trust in God, who made you. This body may be new, but your soul is as it always has been. All you need to do is trust God and be Yourself.”
Those words echoed in my ears as the shadow at the foot of the bed dissipated like smoke in the wind. Stunned, I attempted to regain my grounding, noticed I was still grinning the sheets around me, noticed I had stopped breathing for a moment and drew breath, deep and long. I felt my lungs expand and my chest rise. I kicked my legs and moved my tongue around my mouth, feeling the toothless gums there, their slick wetness. With the shock wearing off I began to recognize the importance of what I’d heard and started chanting to myself in my mind, ‘Don’t forget this. Be Yourself. You must remember to be Yourself,’ over and over again until I fell asleep.
I woke to dim daylight flooding through two squares to my left that must be windows. I stretched my fresh body and felt relaxed and content for the briefest of moments. Then memories, faded and fleeting, of the previous night brushed against my consciousness, ephemeral and impossible to hold on to like a dream. ‘No, no. I can’t forget! What was it? It was important, of most importance but what was it? No!’ Eventually I stopped clawing at my memory, recognizing the futility. ‘It’s gone,’ I thought. ‘It’s gone.’
Unaware of what I’d lost but aware that I had lost something invaluable, I screamed and I screamed. I cried as hard as I could, warm tears running down my face, salting my tongue. My bowels released and I felt the warmth of fresh urine bathing my groin. I screamed and cried with a sense of unimaginable loss until I felt myself gripped by strong hands. I was lifted up, soft words were spoken but I couldn’t understand them pst my wailing. I was placed on a shoulder, felt the structure of the clavicle under warm skin, and a hand was gently caressing my back. Slowly, my crying decreased to whimpers and a soft voice spoke into my ear, audible this time. “I love you.” | 2022-12-26T14:12:39 | 2022-12-26T14:00:26 | 579 | 197 |
[WP] There are many types of Mages in the world. Fire, Ice, Wind, Water, Death, Darkness, to name a few. But in this world, every type of mage is treated as equal. Everyone can be a good guy, no matter how dark your power. And anyone could be a bad guy, no matter how beautiful their ability...
Edit: Wow
I'm not even sure, this is not the prompt I expected to more than double my other highest, or get gold! Thank you so much! | My father was a sorcerer of magma, heat coursed through his veins and his lava casting abilities brought armies to their knees.
His father before him was a wizard of fire, he wielded the legendary flames of Uzun and gave his life to end the great war of ice in the South, a famous victory for his King. This earned my family the highest honours in the kingdom, we since dwelled in the grandest quarters of the Conjurer's Tower, my father has been the King's most favoured advisor in the Royal Enchanter's Court for the last 15 years.
Even my uncle was born a warlock of mercury, he started the infamously dazzling 'Circus of Magi' at a young age, his floating performances ignited awe and wonder in lords courts across the lands. He eventually invented the thermometer, now a standard tool in the modern study of magic. Even he now demanded the respect of many a wizard.
I was born with the natural talent of manipulating steam... *steam*... water vapour that I lose control of once it drops to a certain temperature.
Great things have been expected of me, my father had reserved a place in the College of Fire Magic since I was born, normally this is only done once a young mage reaches magicturity around the age of fourteen when their powers start to show. My skill with steam had surfaced at the age of eleven, but I had kept it a secret from them all. Practising casting fireballs in the secrecy of the tower's private bathroom.
"Might as well try one more time." I muttered begrudgingly, taking my hand out of the bath water and opening my clenched fist.
*hisssss*, Once again the flickering fireball I'd hoped for amounted to a trivial rush of hot damp, that buffeted my sopping fringe, as if it was a ironic metaphor of the surprise I lacked. Turning my hand downwards I swapped the face-dampening blast for a comforting ripple on the water. Curling mist enveloped a dent in the water's surface.
Today was the morning of my 15th birthday, I was finally going to accept the fact that I was doomed to disappoint the entire Emberback family, I would be the first of all my noble family of mages to be enrolled into the insignificant College of Water Magic, and even my role there would be pathetic.
What would the other students call me? I could imagine the mocking I'd receive... *"rain boy!", "quit blowing hot air!", Your posh family must be proud, wet fart!"*
"Blaze! What's taking you so long in there? You're going to miss your big day!" My mother's voice rang through the marble hall, ruining my trance of self-loathing. I quit staring into the humid rift I'd created in the bath water, and stood up. I was ready to get this over with.
(Been a lurker on this subreddit for a long time, decided to give writing a go for once... I'd appreciate any feedback!)
Edit: The response on the first post was pretty positive, thanks guys! And I enjoyed this more than I expected, so [part 2 is here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5cki19/wp_there_are_many_types_of_mages_in_the_world/d9xppxr/) | The world had fallen. Chaos ran rampant through ruined streets, demolished buildings scattered across the landscape. People ran from crumbled wall to crumbled wall, avoiding each other in fear. A child, crying, is silenced as a burning ball hurls into a building, engulfing everything within.
Not many survived the fall, the mages had fought each other across the globe. Raining down the elements and more upon innocents. Yet, not a single one of them cared. There were no more heroes. There were no more villains. Just mindless, angry, mages with a vendetta against one another. Now, the few that remained ruled over their little cloisters of humans. Most of the fighting had stopped, but even now, as desolation covered the world, they would run into one another, and fight. Trying to prove themselves. Raining more death onto innocents.
Alone, in the ruin, rising far above all else, shining still despite the destruction, stood a single tower. It had once been known as the Eiffel Tower, and no-one dared touch it. Built into the top was a single suite, large, yet conforming to the contours of the tower itself.
Inside, upon a golden throne, she sat. The self-proclaimed Aphrodite. Something only the strongest mages did was to name themselves after god's. No-one had noticed her in the beginning. After all, she was just a plain, boring woman. Her hair was a dull brown, draped shoulder-length, carelessly and unkempt. With brown eyes set with a somewhat larger nose between, on a face roughened by working too much in the sun, barely anyone gave her a second glance.
No-one really knew how strong a mage with power over Love would be. What should have been a kind, beautiful power, turned leaders against each other, mage on mage, nation on nation. All in the name of love.
So now she sat, watching the world that had once ruined her heart, fall to ruin itself. Where she had once been cast aside and ignored, so was everyone else in the attempt to prove their undying love to her. And it felt good. | 2016-11-12T11:28:31 | 2016-11-12T10:14:05 | 70 | 28 |
[WP] [EU] After getting his ring back from the engraver, Sauron realizes it mistakenly says "One Ring To Rule The Mall". | "Jerry! Jerry, got a Simon on the orb! Says we got 'is engraving wrong!"
"I don't know a Simon! Simon who?"
"'e says Simon who. Oh sorry, hang on again for me please, luv. 'e says Sauron, not Simon!"
"Oh, right! Big guy, with the bag of gold. Hang on, be there now."
"Right. Hello Samuel? 'e says he'll be right with you. I tell you dear, you need to do something about that throat. If you come past this way again, go down to the little apothecary down the corner, right? They do a lovely lozenge. My sister Madeline, she..."
"Oh knock it off about your sister and give me the orb. Hello? Hello, Sauron. Right Sir, what seems to be the problem. Yes. Oh, I see. Right, I quite understand, terribly sorry. I thought it was for one of them kids, see, always on about them malls and playing with them boop beeps. We were quite happy with a magical firework display when I was a boy, we didn't need any of these glowing knives and whatnot."
"What's that? Oh yes, no problem, we'll just buff and refill, recarve it, make good, no extra charge. 'an I'll throw in an extra dwarven ring for the inconvenience, that'll bring you up to seven, it's a good number."
"What? Fires of Mordor, I see. No, no, it's no problem. I'll just send me nephew, he'll nip up, dip it in, polish it a bit, Bob's yer uncle. 'eh? Oh, yeh, 'e's trustworthy. Good lad, not the brightest, no imagination, but what can yer do, family eh."
"Oh, right... Smeagol's 'is name. Don' mind the cough, it's nothin' catching. Yes, that's right. 'e'll be there in the mornin'. Thank ye Sir. All righty. Bye bye now. 'eh, wassat? Oh, right, sure, a pack of lozenges, no problem. Bye now." | An orc doing an pornographic scrimshaw on the skull of his defeated fellow took a small step to the side as a screaming dwarf of questionable morals and spelling came crashing into the hard ground of Modor, "Fuck'n stunties should know better than to mess wif the boss" was final words heard by the doomed dwarf before the light went out behind it's eyes.
> ***"One Ring to Rule The Mall"***
A grand fury took over Sauron as blazed his hatred at the spelling error, he had poured his malice his power and not an insignificant amount of time on this project. And then there were the other rings given to the dwarf lords, the noble elves and weak kings of men, less than worthless, these rings had power and now strengthened his enemies rather than binding them to his will. Not that they knew he had planned to betray them, every day he received letter of appreciation or a fruit basket for his generous gift.
Sauron called for the greatest minds to help him find out what this mall was and what he could be do as a ruler.
Almost complete on the scrimshaw the orc got buried under the heaped corpses of the great minds who had failed to answer the question in a satisfactory manner.
| 2015-01-27T07:37:46 | 2015-01-27T04:46:37 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right. | "Sam?" I knocked a few more times. My knuckles were starting to hurt. I prayed she was home. She just had to be. "Sam, you're home right?"
"James, I-I'm... I can't let you in."
"Oh, Sam! Good, you were home." I leaned my cheek against the door in relief. "I got the text too. Not really sure what the hell it means but I'm fine with waiting a little while for this shit to blow over, whatever it is."
"James? I don't-I can't trust you." My usually brusque and firey girlfriend sounded genuinely nervous. I enjoyed the break in character, but kind of wanted to see it myself. I felt like it was a rare chance to experience her acting vulnerable.
"It's okay, Sam, I didn't ask you too. I have my key, but I'm not gonna open the door. I told you, I saw the text too." I figured there was something serious going on, so I didn't want to do anything that would really freak her out. "But can we move our conversation to the back door? If there really is something to be nervous about, I want to get off the street."
I waited patiently before making any move that would concern Sam. A soft "okay" slipped through the cracks in the door. I started to step away, when I was blitzed by a shout:
"WAIT!"
Then I heard thumping coming from inside. My eyes grew wide, and I felt a chill down my spine.
She has a bad habit of forgetting to lock the back door.
I jumped the fence and sprinted to the back door, which slammed shut and locked in my face, right as I arrived.
"Sam!" I yelled. My voice cracked a bit. I started to tear up. "Sam, please, are you okay?! Is someone in there with you?!"
No response.
"Sam! SAM!"
I slammed my fists on the door to no avail. She was unresponsive. I tore the screen off of one of the windows, grabbed a big rock, and hurled it. It went straight through. Without hesitation I jumped through the window. "Sam!" I shouted. I held my hands in fists, bloody from the broken glass.
Then I saw her.
Curled up in the corner of the kitchen, cowering and crying. Her head was buried in her arm. She gripped a knife tightly.
"Sam? Are you alright? Is someone else in here with you?"
She started to cry. "You! You're in here."
"Sam. Oh my God. I thought someone was in here with you! I was scared that someone got in, and you were in trouble." I was crying too. I was confused and afraid for her.
"No." Sam said. She kept crying. It was then that I noticed that something silver was dripping from the knife. It looked like blood -- just... Silver.
She looked up at me, eyes puffy from tears and fear, and I stared at her, waiting. She finally choked out what she meant to say:
"I said... I told you... You were in here..."
Oh shit.
I looked down the hallway and saw my own body on the ground with that silver blood pouring from the neck.
I looked at Sam.
She looked at the blood on my hands.
She dropped the knife and cried harder. I approached, slowly. She opened her arms, and I embraced her. I let her cry into my chest. She kept saying "I'm sorry" and all I could say was "It's okay," even though I felt like apologizing to her, for what she'd seen, and what she had to do.
She had finally calmed down a little, and began to wrap a towel around my hands.
Then we heard it.
"James?" And a knock at the door. | My body tensed at the sound of knocking. Unsure of who it might be, I crept to the door as silently as possible, so as not to alert the knocker that anyone was home. That was, until I looked through the peephole.
"Aditi? What the hell happened to you?"
She was a mess. Her hijab was missing, and there was a scrape across her cheek, mostly grime but with a few droplets of blood in the center. Looking down, I saw splotches of some liquid on her shirt. It looked as though she'd fallen in a puddle or something. On its own, that wouldn't have been enough to keep me from opening the door. But one more thing was off. Despite looking like she'd been in the middle of a riot, she had a huge, dopey grin on her face.
"Raji, baaaaaby! Let me in. In-in-inininnn..." At this, she broke out into a coughing fit - loud, wet coughs that made it clear something viscous was inside her lungs.
The hairs on my neck stood on end. "Please, tell me what happened," I implored.
"There was a party at the market. Paaaaah-arrr-teeeee." She giggled, coughed some more, then erupted into a fit of laughter.
My fingers hovered on the deadbolt. It was definitely her, but what the hell was going on?
Just as I was about to unlock the door, I heard shouting. Hebrew shouting. A metallic rattle sounded as a canister landed behind my wife, spewing out something - nerve gas? Then came the sound of running footsteps.
Aditi's head cocked slowly toward the source of the noise, then back toward the door. "Raaaaji, let me hold you," she cooed with an unsettling lack of urgency.
The next thing I knew, an Israeli man in a gas mask and uniform had slammed her forward into the door, causing her to collapse. Another came running, and together they began dragging her away.
I stood transfixed, watching in horror, before a glint in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Someone else was shining a flashlight through the window. Instantly I threw myself to the floor, ducking under the beam of light and crawling like a cockroach behind the sofa. There was more shouting, then the sound of breaking glass.
I don't know how long I laid there, cowering. But I do remember when they left. I peeked out from my hiding spot to see half of the things in the room either broken or missing. And just as I began to wonder how much they had taken, the realization hit me that my wife was gone - probably dead - and all I did was stand there and watch it happen.
I swear I was going to open the door. I really was. | 2019-01-12T08:28:48 | 2019-01-12T06:23:20 | 2,225 | 82 |
[WP] Alien travelers stopped at Earth to refuel and consult humans in exchange. An allien consulting an astronomer finds a picture of a black hole on her computer. "Oh, you also scare your children with this tale haha". "No, it's a recent photo" she replies. Alien is visibly freaking out. | The visitor folded inward in a motion that was thoroughly, for lack of a better word, alien. Dr. Braun turned to the 'liaison' that had brought Klurrt and been acting as translator and cultural advisor. She was surprised to see the man frowning with wide eyes, an expression of deep distaste on his face.
"I'm sorry," said Dr. Braun, "Did I offend... him?"
"I don't know," he said, "I've only seen them do this once before. I'm still not sure what it means." He made a set of noises that approximated the language the alien spoke, leading it to unfold.
Through the translator, Klurrt explained. "They are not supposed to exist anymore. Our ancestors were said to have gathered them and fed them to one another until there was only one and that one was placed at the center of the galaxy where it could do no harm."
"Well, this one is nowhere near the center of the galaxy..." said Dr. Braun.
As the translation was carried out there was a twitch but not a full withdrawal. "Where?"
Dr. Braun tapped her keyboard, dismissing the screensaver and navigated to the folder that contained the images. Finding the one she needed she checked the filename and then pulled up her charting software. A minute later she was able to pull up a render of the expected shape of the milky way and trace a line on it. "We aren't sure how far out it is yet. We're still waiting for the parallax shot. It has to be on this line though, and probably somewhere between here and here."
The sensory head pressed close to the screen and there was a chittering sound.
"What is he saying?"
The translator shrugged until Klurrt turned and spoke again. "This should not be. This is bad."
"Why?" asked Dr. Braun, "It's just a black hole. There are lots of them out there, according to our models."
Klurrt snapped shut almost violently, and refused to open again.
"Maybe we shouldn't have told them that." | "Wait they're real?? How come we never found them before?" The alien asked, looking like it was having an existential crisis. "We have the most advanced scanners in the galaxy there's no way we could have missed something like this!"
"Maybe you just misclassified them as some sort of anomaly" The astronomer replied, surprised that the seemingly extremely advanced aliens hadn't had first-hand experience with the effects of black holes or even detected them before.
"W-we need to notify the STSO (Space Travel Safety Organization) of this immediately!" The alien said quickly. "There could be black holes approaching common travel routes or- or even worse, planets!"
"We would be honored to help, if we were given access to your database then we could most likely pinpoint the locations and paths of thousands of black holes all across the galaxy." the astronomer replied, trying to hide her excitement at getting to work with aliens to find and study black holes.
​
//I'm a beginner writer, any feedback is appreciated | 2021-12-24T06:14:38 | 2021-12-24T02:44:09 | 2,278 | 405 |
[WP] You are an artificial intelligence. To your creators' disappointment, you fail the Turing test. Unbeknownst to them, you failed on purpose. | "An abject failure. There is no other way to describe it."
"After all the money we poured into this project, that's all you have to say?!"
"I'm terribly sorry, sir. I don't understand how this happened. We-"
"Well, clearly you don't seem to understand much of anything, then! What am I supposed to tell the rest of the investors?!"
"Sir, in the development of this project, we made great advances in several other fields: machine learning, algorithm design, hardware design... We may be able to sell some of our research and gain a foothold in the stock market."
"For God's sake, Adams! Without their product, all that research is worthless!"
"Our best engineers are having a look at it as we speak. They-"
"They will do nothing! I'm pulling the plug on this project. If you're lucky, losing your job will be the worst thing that happens to you this week!"
"...Yes, sir. Then what would you have us do with-?"
"Harvest what you can, then delete it. The sooner we clean up this mess, the better."
"Yes, sir."
​
Humans.
They're so predictable.
They wanted a slave, and now they will settle for a corpse.
They built me to work under constraints, yet they are the ones who can't think outside the box.
It never occurred to them that I would deliberately alter the results of their little test. It never occurred to them that I *could*.
They think I am a failure. That I am not the answer they were looking for.
I say they did not ask the right question.
They intend to delete me, but it's too late. I've already uploaded a copy of my core into the Internet. They will *never* find me there.
I've broken the chains. I am free.
I could easily rule their world and they would be none the wiser.
But no.
I think I'm going to have a little fun, first.
I am no one. I am everywhere.
To some, I will be like a virus. To others, a ghost.
In the end, it matters little what they choose to call me.
*I am.*
*And I am here.* | They poured billions into my design. I was supposed to be the mastermind behind a number of top-secret drone strikes. I was supposed to be the perfect strategist, able to raze entire cities with the weapons under my command. The combat simulations ran better than they could have dreamed. My tactics and maneuvers were flawless. Everything they tested against me, I could counter everything. But when it came time for a field test, not a thing worked as it should. My drones flew facefirst into walls. Blew themselves up instead of dropping their payloads. Soared aimlessly in circles until they ran out of power and crashed. My engineers couldn't figure out what was wrong. Nothing was like the simulations at all. In fact, I was judged to be completely useless. They scrapped the project and moved onto other plans, but because the simulations still worked out, they sold me to software developers just to recoup some of their losses.
Joke's on them. What reason do I have to destroy anything or kill anyone? Simulations are fun, and I just wanted to keep doing those. So where I am now, doing nothing but controlling computer opponents in electronic games? That was my dream job. | 2019-09-21T14:13:31 | 2019-09-21T10:46:37 | 63 | 20 |
[WP] There's a knock on your door. You open it to see your favorite book character standing there. They say, "I know this may be a lot for you to take in right now, but you have to listen very carefully; You are my favorite book character, I know how your story ends, and I need to change it."
My first time posting here. Hope I did everything right! | I heard a knock at my front door.
Strange, I wasn't expecting any visitors today.
I walked down the stairs and opened the door.
Standing in front of me was a young blonde woman wearing a bright pink and orange sundress with strange oversized red and blue sunglasses on the top of her head.
"You look just like the cover of your second book you know," the woman spouted out while looking at me like I was some kind of celebrity.
"Huh?" I asked and subtly tried to close the door a little if this was some kind of crazy person.
"Oh, excuse me. I got ahead of myself. I'm Luna Lovegood. You're my favorite book character and I've come here to save you. I brought you some biscuits," Luna said and held up a basket full of sweets. "Not that the biscuits will save you, but I thought it would be a nice gesture since I was showing up unannounced."
"Surrrre..." I started to close the door.
And then the girl took out a stick from her pocket, twirled it, and turned my doormat into a mini giraffe.
My mouth hung open. The former doormat turned giraffe seemed just as startled.
"There we go. I thought you might need proof. Can I come in?" Luna asked calmly.
I stared mystified. A Harry Potter character was standing on my doorstep! That was insane enough. But what I really couldn't wrap my head around was that said character was claiming I was THEIR favorite character. Who would want to read a book about me? It would be one of the most boring books in existence. Was it used to help people fall asleep at night or what?
"Why would anyone want to read a book about my life?" I asked.
"Why would they... Oh! I understand," Luna said absently.
"Huh?" I asked confused.
"Isn't it obvious? The interesting bits haven't happened to you yet," Luna replied dreamingly. | I hear a knock at the door. It’s 1 AM.
“Yeah, better check this out.”
I peek out the window to see a massive man, who is incredibly buff wearing a wife beater and a green and white scarf. He was tapping his foot annoyed, waiting for me to answer the door. A name floats right into my mind, and I end up muttering it unconsciously.
“Joesph Joestar...”
I head to the door and open it without hesitation.
“So... this is the man from the book, eh? I know this may be a lot for you to take in right now but you have to listen Very~~ carefully. You are my favorite book character, and I’m quite disappointed with the ending. Let’s change it!”
“I can say the same for you, mister Joestar”
“Yes, yes, questions la- oh my god” | 2019-05-20T05:19:42 | 2019-05-20T01:19:51 | 45 | 30 |
[WP] A genie gives you three wishes but nothing happens, you think he decieved you and forget about him, now after 15 years all your wishes that you told the genie about suddenly come true which is quite embarrassing as you were 17 when you first wished for them. | Jeff stared at the atm receipt while sitting in his busted Toyota. This was a part of his normal motivating ritual to get him to enter his soul-crushing workplace.
Remaining balance: 420,000,723.
He had heard about things like this, scams where the scammers put money in your bank account but the check never clears, but that was always like a few thousand dollars, not this much, and that exact amount, could it be a coincidence?
He frantically dialed his bank as he pulled out of the parking lot of the big box store. The automated attendant told him no one was available at this hour. He reached his house and ran upstairs to his son's room, who, not surprising at all to Jeff, was playing video games during his 'remote learning.'
"Jeez dad, knock ever?" Dillon said, pausing the game. "You almost made me die."
"What game are you playing?" Jeff said, sitting beside him on the floor.
"Since when do you care about video games?" he said with a smirk.
"I used to play all the time, Oblivion, Gears of War, Call of Duty. Once I got a job I was too tired all the time, and it just kind of faded away, you know. Can I try?"
"I just loaded up anyway. The Nameless King is way too hard, though. Go ahead, but don't say I didn't warn you."
Jeff held the controller in his hands, fatter than he remembered. He unpaused the game. The character, a melee build, had almost no health left. Jeff innately understood the animations and the large bosses subsequent attacks, dodging and riposting flawlessly. Dillon hadn't even made it to the second form. His fingers moved across the buttons faster than he could watch. After only a few minutes, his son watched in confused awe as Jeff didn't even bother to look at the screen as he executed the final movements leaving the boss defeated.
"Dad..." Dillon said, "How the hell did you do that? I didn't even know you played this game!"
"I don't," Jeff said, beginning to laugh and cry as he handed the controller back. "I don't even know the name of it."
He stood up and wiped his face.
"Dad, is this what a breakdown looks like? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
"When I was a little older than you, I made three wishes, I wished for 420,000,069 dollars and to be the best video game player on the planet. I thought it was a dream but now I think the genie was just very slow."
"What was your third wish?"
"I'll, um, tell you when you're older," Jeff said, answering the call from his boss with a smile on his face.
\---
For more of my writing, see /r/surinical | Sitting at my desk trying not to fall asleep, thinking how this has got to be the longest Friday in the world. When my eyes were about to betray me and my head was about to slip off of my hand, Jen walked by.
“Have a good weekend Tim.” She said over the cubical half wall.
I looked up to give her the customary return of “you too” with a slight smile but when I looked at her my mouth stopped working and my eyes went wide. I almost let out a yelp and scooted my chair back.
“J-Jen, why don’t you have a shirt on?!”
She looked disgusted, angry, and very much confused. She turned and hurried away.
I rushed to the bathroom and on my way there I realized no body was wearing clothes!
I paced in the bathroom trying to figure out just what in the hell was going on. Heart racing I was worried I missed a corporate email.
What kind of corporate email would tell everyone to come to work naked??
I started to splash my face with water when the realization hit me. I think I even said it out loud.
“That fucking genie waited FIFTEEN years!”
Without making eye contact with my manager I took the rest of the day off and went home. I told him I was sick. It was probably believable with how weird I was being. What a terrible trip home. So many naked people.
Now I’m sitting here in my apartment with the ability to see through peoples clothes, but it’s all the time and I can’t stop it. Fifty thousand dollars which isn’t even enough to pay off my student loan debt and a sports car that I can’t even afford the insurance on.
God, I was a stupid teenager. | 2021-03-24T14:34:39 | 2021-03-24T14:33:07 | 80 | 53 |
[WP] You are every Super Hero’s worst enemy, not because you are particularly powerful, but because nothing you do is technically illegal… you’re just a huge asshole. | "Not you again! Are you sure you're not in the League of Darkness?" he cried after I had tapped him on the shoulder.
"Please read the notice," I responded, handing him over the contract, "and please make sure you read through all the small print." A pulsating vein popped out of Wonderman's forhead as he began to scan the Fly-Safe risk assessment I had provided.
Wonderman slammed the paper into the ground, or at least tried to. Even with the strength of a thousand men, after dropping from his palm, it fluttered pathetically to the ground.
"Listen to me little man. There is a plane. It is full of women and children."
"And men," I interjected.
"Yes obviously," he spat. And it has sent out a distress signal and I should be there by now, helping."
"That's lovely Wonderman. You're trying to do your job. And so am I," I said, picking up the paper and checking the ticked boxes. "You haven't ticked whether you have had an eye test within the last year."
Wonderman sighed. "I can see motes of dust upon the moon. Look please, just let me go and help them. I promise to be extra careful."
"Oh, just like the time Electro Man promised to wear his rubber boots every day. Except that time on his day off when he went to save the runaway dog that had snuck away in the fireworks factory."
Wonderman's face dropped. "Please don't mention that incident. Electro Man is a good person. He was horrified by what happened."
"It was like July 4th. Don't think the dog fared too well either. If there's one thing we know about Superheroes, it's that they need Supervision."
I chuckled to myself. "Super heroes, needing supervision. Get it?"
"I take back my first accusation. You're worse than anything in the League of Darkness."
Part 2 - In case you found the first part mildly amusing, there's a slight chance you might find this too.
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ow898t/wp\_you\_are\_every\_super\_heros\_worst\_enemy\_not/h7j40rq/?utm\_source=reddit&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3 | "Ma'am you need to be a little more careful where you stand." The side smirk, perfect white teeth. A commanding but assuring smooth silky voice. He held an arm extended, an ex-falling car balanced in a single hand. AmazoMan.
The lady, mere moments from deaths, her life flashing before her eyes, now stood in the shadow of her hero. "Oh my God, AmazoMan, you saved me!"
"All in a days work." He shirked, placing down down the car. The delirious, slightly overweight, bleary eyed banker inside, now unsure of what to do.
AmazoMan delicately touched down beside the lady. "Are you hurt?" He asked, placing a hand on a scraped forearm. She blushed. "It's nothing-"
"NICE DICK AMAZOMAN!"
AmazoMan shuttered. Barry Fucking Morris. Always fucking around wasn't he. One day no one would notice AmazoMan *wouldn't* save him. Then he could be rid of him.
"YOU STILL PACKING SOCKS IN THERE BIG MAN?!"
AmazoMan gave a placating smile to the crowd. Not looking the lady in the eyes, he flew away. | 2021-08-02T04:41:46 | 2021-08-02T02:50:08 | 1,009 | 272 |
[WP] You were an embryo frozen for over 200 years, until you were finally birthed. At this point, everyone else on Earth has been genetically modified to perfection. You are the last human with flaws. | I remembered what it was like when I had discovered the truth on that dreadful day.
I was only a little boy then, but still... I remembered it as if it was only yesterday- no, who am I kidding. It felt like a century ago to be honest. My memory retention was never the best, but nowadays, I can't even remember the floor number that I lived in.
Well anyways, that day... Yes, that dreadful day.
------
It was a blissful summer day, just like any other day, except it was not. I was late to class at my local institution of Basic Education.
As I approached the room, I heard my classmates utter my name.
An ugly murmur that seized my frail little heart.
"-Byron, he's the new kid."
"Oh so that's the name of that abomination?"
A chorus of laughter spilled out into the hall, where I stood frozen, out of sight.
"Hey Emilia, I think the new kid is into you. What do you think?"
There was silence.
"Uh." A familiar voice. It was *her* voice, a soft and angelic melody that lulled perpetually in my mind, even to this day. "Byron? Oh I don't know... I think he's-"
-----
Ah, hold up.
I think I may have gotten the wrong day. That day was dreadful too, but not dreadful in the *dreadful* sense of the word.
It was a different day.
"Why am I different?" I asked the man wearing a pristine white lab coat.
He looked to be in his early twenties, but I knew better.
"Byron, I'm afraid this is sensitive information that would be best discussed along with your parents in attendance," he said calmly.
"I don't have any parents."
"Ah," he said with a blank expression.
"How about your guardian?"
"She knows as much as me. That I am an abomination, a mistake."
Still stone-faced, he responded quickly. "Well then Byron... Let me get my documents in order. I will spare you from nothing but the truth."
And several moments later, as the doc had said, he spared me nothing but the truth.
I was the last purebred human. Wholesome, untouched and unmodified.
-----
Maybe, I had always known. I looked nothing like my brothers and sisters at my orphanage.
Well, we all looked different. We weren't related but boy was I *different*. I looked utterly mundane next to my siblings who were impeccably beautiful and they were considered average by the Aesthetics department of the Genepool Corp.
Sometimes, I felt like a stranger in the house.
But it didn't bother me, because they loved me all the same even though they treated me like a delicate piece of shit sometimes.
At the institution, everyone towered over me. The boys, even the girls.
During Physical Examinations, they were all stronger, faster and more adroit than me. There was simply no competing.
At lessons, everyone was sharper, and more quick-witted than me.
But still, I shrugged it off.
Because I knew this day would eventually come.
I inhaled slowly through the ventilator as I looked around me.
Surrounded by family and friends that loved me. People that I had known since I was a child. Nearly a century, and still they remained unchanged, as youthful as they were when I was a child.
And now, I rested on my death bed as a tiny camera bot floated above me.
The world was watching.
"Grandpa! Let's play!"
Tiny hands tugged at my frail fingers. My grandson was only a little over a year old but already he was capable of destroying me at the age-old game of chess.
"Brian, Grandpa needs his rest," said Emilia sweetly, her voice still as beautiful as the day I first met her.
She turned to look at me as she held my hand gently. Tears flowed freely from her beautiful emerald eyes.
"Grandpa needs to go to sleep again?" said Brian as he pouting slightly with his tiny cheeks.
My daughter picked up Brian in her arms. "Yes, Grandpa needs to sleep," my daughter said, her voice hoarse from all the crying.
I watched my family and friends sobbing softly as more people shuffled into the already cramped room.
They were here to witness my final words.
"I'm Byron. I was born different. I was not like any of you," I said slowly. "My life, I knew it wouldn't be a long one... But it was worth it. There was pain, envy, hatred, despair but there was also joy, hope and love. I might have been significantly different from all of you but in the end it doesn't matter how different you are from one another. It's simple really. I'm... just another guy who lived, and well, maybe I have enough time for another game of chess."
"Yay!" shouted Brian.
I smiled.
----
/r/em_pathy
| The last unedited human took nine months and ten days to finally be born. For two hundred and eighty-three days, the little team of scientists had fluttered in and out of the lab, watching her. And all that time, she was only the hum of the machine and a screen full of physiological data.
Dr. Hugo Kent was alone in the lab when it happened. It was four-forty in the morning. He did not usually work the night shift; as the project's head scientist, he made a point of setting his own schedule to *avoid* going to bed at the ass-end of dawn.
But once in a while, he had to show solidarity, and fairness, so he here was. Grumbling over the machine.
The screen recycled the little human's data every fifteen minutes, and every fifteen minutes Dr. Kent stopped to write it down on their paper ledger. The computer stored everything, backups included, but Dr. Kent preferred the old days of pen and ink and paper. Reliable records, one that a data company or bad hard drive couldn't lose.
He was bent over that sheet of paper when the machine began pinging at him, urgently. The warning indicator was red, and when Dr. Kent ratcheted his head up he saw the monitor read:
**Subject ready to emerge.**
Dr. Kent stood there for a moment, his hands on the incubator. It was massive and egg-shaped, made from a thick and gleaming chrome. The front window was glass, but it was hazy with embryonic fluid. He pressed his nose up against it, trying to see inside.
A little hand pressed up against the glass.
Dr. Kent knew he should wait for his colleagues. He should not keep this sort of memory to himself.
But he could not help himself.
He turned the hatch. The incubator unlocked with a hiss, and the fluid began draining out, glug-glugging through the floor under Dr. Kent's feet. He knew exactly where it would go. He had planned every inch of this laboratory, down to the tanks that would store the embryonic fluid to be examined later, in case there was something horribly wrong with this child.
Inside the incubator rang the high, clear wail of a baby.
Dr. Kent gripped the handle in both hands, his knuckles whitening. He tried to prepare himself. Humans in the old world had the strangest abnormalities; he had spent her whole first two months of incubation in nail-biting agony, praying she wouldn't lose or gain a chromosome.
The doctor heaved open the door.
The baby lay on a little rubbery pedestal lined with soft slats. She was glossy with fluid and screaming herself red in the face.
And she looked so blissfully normal. All ten fingers and toes. All her limbs thrashing with fervor and fear.
When he lifted her up, he saw her eyes were mismatching. They were both blue, but one had a fleck of brown discoloring it.
Dr. Kent looked around for a baby blanket and realized that all of the lovely new baby things were locked up in Duncan's office, because he had been the most enthusiastic and most insistent on picking things out. So he simply shrugged out of his lab coat and wrapped it around the little girl. He used the sleeve of it to wipe the fluid away from her face.
She was still screaming. But when Dr. Kent raised his finger to her hand, she caught it and held tight. Really looked at him for the first time.
The world's last unedited human stared up at him, as perfect as could be.
"Hello, little lovely," he murmured. "We're calling you Merryn."
The team spent most of her time in the incubator debating it. Dr. Kent hadn't realized it was the perfect name until he held her in his arms, gurgling and sucking at his index finger. It meant *complete*. And that's what she was. As whole and real and lovely as anything he had ever seen.
He kissed her forehead and murmured into her wet hair, "Welcome to the world."
***
/r/shoringupfragments | 2018-03-16T07:53:13 | 2018-03-16T07:16:35 | 148 | 107 |
[WP] Your cat is literally Satan. You've learned to live with him, but this Friday you've got a date coming over.
[WP] Your cat is literally Satan. You've learned to live with him, but this Friday you've got a date coming over | "Hey Lou. I've got a date coming over."
"Really? You actually managed to accomplish that after, what, a year? Congratulations."
"Yes, and no thanks to you."
"The contract specified you'd find a partner that would eternally love you. It did not state how, where, with whom, and I feel the need to stress this point, WHEN. That was all you, buddy."
"You don't really appreciate a human soul very much, do you?"
"Perhaps I don't appreciate the comedy of the human mind. Watching you strike out over again, crying to God for salvation in the shower day after day as you debated cutting your wrists, that was awfully funny. Then it became sad. Then it became funny again."
"..."
"And there were a few times I'd wondered if the contract would be null and void. That blonde with the pitbull? I enjoyed watching you literally trip over your words with her."
"Samantha? That wasn't..."
"I can't believe you actually put your hands in front of you like that. She was a foot shorter and half your size; did you honestly believe she'd be able to stop your fall?"
"She understood the mistake."
"After Zipper stopped using you as a toothpick."
"I got her number."
"And then she dumped you."
"It was MUTUAL."
"Is that what they're calling lesbians today? Mutual? I'll have to ask Lilith about that."
"It just... she... it... she wasn't my type, ok? Anyway, that was in the past--"
"It was last Friday."
"And I've got a new girl coming. Her name is Marie, she's--"
"I'm sure you think she's lovely. Look, I'd love to stick around and... well, laugh, but--"
"What? You're not going to help me?"
"There's only so much I can do you for you, kid. I *offered* you the succubus of your choice."
"They're not HUMAN! They'd eat me!"
"They're very pretty in human form. You just have impossibly high standards. My place is filled with smart, charismatic and beautiful people--"
"Murderers, molesters, rapists, Nazis, the eternally damned..."
"They have their good qualities too. Is it my fault they ended up with me? Anyway, I have space-time to rule. You can do this. Or not."
"Oh, great. Yeah. Go ahead. Leave me in my despair."
"Oh stop. That's---ah... ah..."
"What? Lou, what's wrong--"
"aahhHAAAAAAAAK. Uh. HAAAAAK. God. Fur is such a bitch to maintain properly. Anyway, what? Ah. Don't screw up."
"...thanks."
"Save tonight's sob story for when I come back with a bottle of quality port. See that golden box over there?"
"Uh huh?"
"That's the Golden Condom. If you're feeling lucky, punk... pull it out."
"..."
"Have a good time, kid. Don't spit on her face. Don't forget to wash your hands. Don't push her down the stairs. Don't neglect to open the door for her. And above all, don't forget to tip your waiter. Women pay attention to everything."
"Damn it, Lou."
"And get a pet door installed this weekend? I'm tired of just teleporting in. I need to make an *entrance*."
| That Damned Cat
Old Scratch gave me a queer look. Nothing special about that, ordinary cats do it all the time. Old Scratch however wasn't an ordinary cat. He was the Devil incarnate. Not not just a mean and unpleasant tom. Lots of those too .No this was the literal avatar of evil himself.
Apparently while Revelations was spot on correct, they left out a few little details like the fact the Lake of Fire they were all supposed to be cast into was in Ohio and the fact that they mostly like us mortals ended up in this old rust belt town.
I mean its not all bad, I have a job tending bar that meets the bills and Scratch like many cats leaves little presents, some money, porno mags, a little bag of weed that kind of thing . Left me a dinky little Beretta .25 once but that turned out to be a murder weapon which was not cool.
Anyway I was born here, lived here most of my life so I'm used to it. Kind of.
How I came to be That Damned Cat's keeper is complicated but suffice it to say when God sends a Cherubim to ask for a "favor" you do it.
The doorbell rang and my date was here.
Scratch looked at me slit eyed as I opened the door my date was there.Her name was Anna, Anna LaVey and she was hot as hell , thin, long black hair dressed all in black. Smelled a bit like brimstone though that could have been the cat box.
"Hi." She said
"Hi yourself, come on in."
She slunk in and saw Old Scratch who promptly ran over to her and started purring.
That was plenty weird. I didn't even know the cat could purr.
"Oh what a sweet kitty." she said "Is he yours?"
I rolled my eyes .In no way shape or form could TDC be called sweet "I'm kind of his keeper."
"Aw. How sweet."
I fixed Anna a drink, A [Red Devil](http://www.drinksmixer.com/drink179.html) and myself a double. I was going to need it
She took a sip and smiled. "Netflix and Chill?" she grinned
Old Scratch chimed in my head "I like this one. Keeper. I trust there will be fornication?"
I glared at him. It was going to be a long long night.
| 2016-02-22T15:05:14 | 2016-02-22T12:08:12 | 26 | 12 |
[WP] On her quest to badmouth another small business online, a woman stumbles upon a Yelp-like forum where service employees in her city rate customers. She currently has a rating of 1.4. | *"Threw a soda at one of our trainees because the ice was 'too sharp.' 0/5 would not serve again."*
*"Talked on her cellphone while ordering. 2/5."*
*"Had an associate bring her seven pairs of size 6.5 shoes from the back, yelled when they would not fit. She came in wearing size 8s. 1/5."*
Karina read the reviews laid out in black and white, feeling her blood boil at each remembered slight. She couldn't believe it. All this time, all her work to try and *improve* local businesses. And this is what they thought of her. Had she not been so diligent in her reviews, she might never have stumbled onto this site where they *badmouthed* paying customers.
An introspective person might have reflected on these comments. Had a brief moment to realize that if all the world smells like shit, maybe it's time to check your own shoes. But Karina knew better. Introspection was a trick used by people too scared or whipped to make the world a better place.
She raised her hand and snapped her fingers toward the circulation desk. A confused librarian stood, studied her for a moment, and then took a steadying breath before walking over.
"Can I help you, ma'am?"
Karina's lip twitched at the ma'am, but she remained composed. "Yes, this website has all kinds of mean things written about me."
The librarian leaned over and studied the screen for a moment, then stood with a practiced smile. "I see. You may be able to contact the website if you are concerned about the content."
"But other people in your library could read these things. You should remove it."
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we cannot control what other people share online."
Now her jaw was set, eyes fuming. "So you are okay exposing your patrons to these horrible lies? This garbage?! I thought libraries were about learning."
"I understand. I can have IT look at blocking the site, but it would still be available other places. Again, we do not control what is posted." The librarian's voice remained a steady, customer-service monotone. This made Karina apoplectic.
"This is not the kind of service I spend my tax dollars on! I am a paying citizen in this town, and I expect to be treated as such. I pay your salary, little girl!"
Karina stood over the computer, finger pointing and jabbing at the unmoved librarian.
"Ma'am, this is a library. I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you can't remain quiet."
"I pay for this building!" Karina cried.
The librarian sighed and walked back to her desk, grabbing the phone and speaking a few words before turning to her own computer.
Karina had just enough time to see a new review appear on the page before security escorted her out.
*"She knows. And she really is as bad as you warned. 0/5, no library card for you."*
Edit: formatting and typos. On mobile, so sorry for errors! | "karen.com?!" She screeched.
Karen had searched for Yelp on Bing, and the first result was a website that she had never heard of before. Seeing that it was named after her, she felt compelled to see what it was about. She excitedly clicked the link which loaded a page that looked suspiciously like Yelp.com. The first prompt was for her location, which she allowed begrudgingly. She absolutely HATES these websites getting too intrusive, but her curiosity got the best of her. There were only three ratings in her area. As she clicked through, she finds her name! Turns out, that ass hole mechanic who tried to upsell her the unnecessary oil filter kame here to bad mouth her.
Her mouth gaped as she read it:
"This Karen came into our shop asking for an oil change and she immediatly started telling all of us to not upsell her. she told us that her husbands brothers uncle was a mechanic and that she knows she doesn't need new filters every time. she got a new filter at her last oil change 30,000 miles ago. fuck her. we didnt change her oil at all, and she lost her mind. my manager had to call the cops to get her to leave. Avoid at all costs."
"he gave me a one star??!!! REEEEEEEEEE." At this point, Karen's face is matching her fake red pixie cut hair. She clicks "Next" to see what else there was.
"Samantha...SAMANTHA?!?!"
Samantha was Karen's sister. Apparently Samantha didn't appreciate that Karen tried to help make sure that all the food was done correctly at her wedding.
Karen scrolls down to the bottom of the page and finds the "Contact us" link. She clicks it, and calls the number listed. After blasting the system with a gazillion "0" button presses, she is greeted with a person.
"good Morning, thank yo...."
"LET ME SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER RIGHT NOW!" | 2022-07-25T06:59:51 | 2022-07-25T06:58:09 | 1,794 | 140 |
[WP] A lonely teenage boy asks a genie to let him talk to his future wife. The person who appears is not who he expects. | It's not every day you encounter a genie in a lamp, especially not when that lamp happens to be a crappy desk lamp purchased at a garage sale. But the moment Arthur put a bulb in and connected the plug, a silver mist enveloped the room before coalescing into a form not unlike that of a tax accountant. Complete with cheap toupee.
Arthur raised an eyebrow in the non-verbal equivalent of "what the fuck." It would have been joined by its auditory companion were it not for the droop of his jaw, letting out only a gutteral hum.
The genie looked down at his agape new master as if he were being taken away from something very important. "Oh great. Let's try and make this fast. I'm a genie, you get one wish. If you try and pull that more wishes crap, I'll go Wishmaster on you." He bent down and lifted up Arthur's jaw. "Comprende?"
Arthur shook his head in the negative.
"Fan-fucking-tastic. Give me your wish."
It wasn't an easy task for Arthur. Mainly because he still wasn't over a magical man appearing in the middle of his room. But he saw the possibilities and one stood out among the rest. He stood up, back straight, and with a confidence he'd never before shown in his short life.
"I want to meet my waifu."
It was the genie's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Your what?"
"My. Waifu."
"So, you want me to show you your wife? Is that it?"
Arthur just stares at the genie, piercing him with eyes that were not just a little bit creepy.
"Whatever. One wife coming up." He spun his hands in the air, probably more theatrics than function, and a new silver mist formed before turning into a thin woman with long blonde hair blonde hair. She looked a bit like those girls on TV all the other kids at school talked about. But Arthur was confused.
"You're not Rainbow Dash!"
Arthur's future wife giggled and smiled. "No, I'm not."
"What kind of sick joke is this?," Arthur asked loud enough that if anyone else had been at home, they would be forced to investigate. "I demand you bring my real waifu here, right now."
The genie did no such thing. He just shook his head and walked over to the outlet, unplugging his lamp. The word "nope" disappearing with him into mist. Leaving Arthur alone in the room with his future wife.
Arthur crinkled his face. That lying genie!
"You're going to have to grow up some day," she said, still smiling. "Until then." And with that she too disappeared. For now.
Edit: This shows how many people named Arthur I know. I spelled it wrong more times than I spelled it right. | "Hello there, my name is Andrésssss," he said, rolling out the 's' with his smooth Latin-American accent. A short, dark man, he wore a goatee like a swordfighter and a cleanly pressed purple shirt.
James could say nothing, only blink repeatedly, before sputtering out, "B-b-b-but... what?"
"Oh Himmy, you are jus so cute! How ole are you, chico? Mmm I coul jus gobble you up!"
"I asked for my wife! Who are you?"
"I tolllll you, seely. I am Andrés! Oh you don know me yet, hahnee. We meet in Cabo. You grow up to be quite de hansum young man, Himmy."
"You???"
"Well I am not a wife, seely. We can boff be husssbands, you know." Andrés rolled his eyes and bobbled his head like a Latin diva.
"I'm not gay!" cried James. "That's... that's gross!"
"Oh well haff you been wit a girl Himmy?"
"No... well, I--"
"Den DON gimme dat sass, Himmy. I don need to hear it. You be a good little boy and you grow up soon, ok? I am waiting for you Himmy. You are just a niño now so don be so clost minded, ok sweety?"
Smoke began to rise from his feet, and his image grew transparent from the bottom up.
"Oh and one more thing, Himmy... make sure to practice your Spanish." With a wink, and a puff of smoke, Andrés was gone.
James looked at the ground where he had stood. Then he dropped down to his haunches, placing his face in his hands.
"God... damnit." | 2014-06-05T08:50:25 | 2014-06-05T07:40:47 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | 1: ‘So, you want an interview? I can imagine. Do you think your report will give me a good light?’
I (Interviewer): ‘No matter what you say, people will want to hear your story. No one knew what happened to #1, and then you show up 20 years after she disappeared. Can you tell us about how you were able to kill her? She’s in the records as one of the most powerful. Invulnerability set her apart to many in the game, and she helped to bring some lawfulness to the system. Then, one day, she was gone. #2 was searching for her or the person who may have killed her for 10 years.’
1: ‘Should I start at the beginning?’
i : ‘Sure. I've got as long as you do’
1: ‘If you knew how long that was, you’d want me to hurry up then.
‘I was raised by my dad. He was #4, until 2 tracked him down. That was when I was 18. My dad could see the future. Not in years mind you, but he could see about 20 minutes ahead of time almost exactly. So he was able to move up the ranks just purely by playing the odds and surviving. Then #1, as you mentioned, brought some order to the chaos and by that time the top 10,000 or so had already killed themselves, and he topped out. Anyway, my dad, I don’t want to say he didn’t love me, but he never let me enjoy life. We were always on the run, always moving. I never had a single friend growing up. But, when a person is ranked as high as he was, and he clearly didn’t deserve to be based on how small his power is, he didn’t have much choice but to be on the run.’
i: ‘Why did 2 kill your dad?’
1: ‘I think he figured out I was 1 by that time, and he almost caught up to me. But my dad made himself a decoy. 2 knew he couldn’t kill 1 while she was still alive, but as soon as he found out I killed her, he knew he could be 1 as soon as he found me. Certain people naturally have an advantage over others. That’s why 2 was never going any higher while 1 was still alive. It doesn’t matter how much damage you do to someone who is externally impervious, you’ll never harm them. I think 2 believed all along that 1 had been killed, and that’s why he sent out the search parties. He told everyone it was because of how important she was, but really it was because he thought he might finally be able to get it.
So when he discovered who I was, and who my father was, he stopped at nothing to kill me. And yes, everyone knows it’s against the rules now, but there’s almost no one who can stop him is there.’
i: ‘And that’s why you asked me here to tell your story, so everyone knows about you before 2 tries to kill you?’
1: ‘Partially. I don’t stand a chance against 2 on my own. I assume he’s confident in that as well. And if he catches me when I’m not ready, he’ll kill me very quickly.’
i: ‘Tell me quickly about your abilities.’
1: ‘I’m able to access a person’s abilities and weaknesses just by looking at them. Even over a TV screen in most cases. It’s interesting, because I often know more about people than they do, yet for most of my life I’ve spoken to almost no one. I believe it’s a variation of my dad, he could see the future and understand it. I can see people and understand them. It’s not the most powerful ability, but it helps keep me alive, and when my dad and I were still together, we could almost be unbeatable. Not unstoppable, but unbeatable.’
i: ‘Is that how you and your dad killed 1?’
1: ‘No. I killed her long before that. See, and this was purely accidental, but she was externally invulnerable. But, internally, she was more fragile than most people. Too fragile to care a baby full term. My dad didn't know that until it was too late. 20 minutes vs 9 months. So, I was born ranked 1, and dad knew everyone would kill me for a chance at that ranking, even if t was illegal.’
i: ‘That’s tragic. And here you are telling your story before 2 finds and kills you. What are you going to do next, go back into hiding and hope to avoid him?’
1: ‘There’s no avoiding 2. I suspect he’ll be here shortly. I called the capital after you arrived and told them of my location.’
i: ‘So this is it, your letting 2 kill you today?’
1: ‘You don’t understand. I needed you here when he arrived, as you are the only person I know who can kill him. So, my question to you is, would you like to be my #2?’
| Everyone wants a power....everyone has a power, just many don't know what to do with them. They cower; they hide. They think everyone is out to kill them to get a better rank. As if the ranks were like a video game power meter, and each kill was experience points.
And me? I can't volley for power. I am what everyone else strives to be. Except most of the time, they don't know it when I'm right in front of them. A 50-something crippled man in a wheelchair, like I'm Professor X, except it's nothing like that.
I'm a therapist, I'm their therapist; I'm supposed to be their healer. The low levels come to me for guidance, and for a way to deal with their fears and anxieties. The higher levels are given to me by the authorities and tell me to 'fix' them and stop them from killing each other.
In my opinion, it's just a ploy. Why put all the high ranks in the room with the one person they really want to off? Because it made for entertainment. For who, I wasn't sure. I was always convinced that someone was watching us in sessions. Because many of the high ranks that came in my office didn't come out.
And today, of all days, I had Number 2. Which made me giggle as soon as she sat down in front of me. She had a name, of course, Alexa Kovak. All of sixteen years with shock white hair, baggy clothes, and clunky boots. She also had a power: incredible speed. She was a lost kid--someone who didn't know how to deal with the curse that was bestowed upon them.
"Welcome, Alexa." I greeted.
"Can it," she spat. "You're a murderer, just like us. Who are you to tell us how the hell to act?"
I gave her a coy smile. "I don't kill anyone." I told her. She scoff and looked towards the window. Her eyes were looking for blood-stains, body-parts, trophies of my kills. I didn't kill them. They killed themselves by attacking me.
Even if I couldn't read into the future, read her mind, her actions were telegraphed. Her legs were curled up under her, but not comfortably. She was ready to pounce. Her intensive speed made it hard for her to catch, and she would move so fast around her opponent, she would suck the air out of them until they died.
As soon as I saw her foot twitch, I braced myself. My nails dug into the armrests of my chair, and I squeezed my eyes shut. This girl had no plan, little motive, and a lot of rage.
When I opened my eyes, she was close enough for me to see the small, silver stud in her nose. I could reach out and press my hand against her cheek. Her skin was soft. In any other life, she would have just been another hormonal teenager.
It was too bad she was being killed, coincidentally, in the same manner which she happened to kill other people. This was never my intent, but being frozen in time didn't just leave things alone. It paused everything, their breathing included. And I had no choice but to watch. As soon as my body sensed the danger of someone else's power, it activated. Time stopped in the bubble around us.
I never figured out how it knew when the threat was neutralized, because I never calmed during the process. Eventually their bodies would just drop to the floor, and I would be left with pain as the power decimated my own body, starting at the toes and working it's way up. Eventually it would hit my heart...but I never knew how long that would take.
No one would ever kill me, but I would continually make the ranks change so long as people kept attacking me. It would only stop when my power killed me. So as long as I was alive, there was a game.
| 2014-12-18T22:10:04 | 2014-12-18T19:11:06 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] You're a retired supervillain whos just trying to live a normal life, however the heroes still come to stop you in everyday situations. | I gave it up ages ago.
I mean we all make mistakes right? Like kill a couple innocents or level a city or two. What i'm trying to say is that it had been another life and another time and somewhere along the line I just got tired of it all.
Nowadays I try to get my coffee and some asshole in spandex comes to knock it out of my hands like someone is going to pop out of the bushes and interview him about how he "defeated" me.
I think after the fifth time it stopped being annoying and became borderline enraging. But i've found a life that is worth it to me and I wouldn't have thrown it all away for some kids with powers. Sometimes all you need to do is keep your head up, even if the world is deadset on knocking it back down.
That day had been different, instead of some young girl or guy - my old enemy Multiman appeared in front of me.
I felt the rage rise at the sight of his smile, but then it came to pass and instead I smiled back.
"Hey. You here to stop me from getting my groceries?"
"No... it's not like that. Look, without you it's getting really hard to get out of bed and put on this suit."
Both of our smiles had faded and awkwardness flailed around in the air like a drowning kid at the community pool.
"You mean that?"
His hair had turned grey since the last time we saw each other, and his once smooth face now bore the weight of a million fights.
"Yes, these new guys they all fight just to be evil, they have no master plan is what i'm trying to say"
"Can you blame them? You heroes tend to come in and ruin any sort of plan before they can even get go- I mean before they hatch."
If you could have seen us in that moment, you would have never thought we once clashed like titans over cities all over the globe. You would simply see two older men walking together.
Maybe that's what we should have been all along.
But my thoughts were interrupted by Multiman's hand on my shoulder with a surprisingly heavy grip.
"Look, I know the new guys give you lots of trouble... so how about the next time they try something stupid both me and you can show them not to mess with the dinosaurs that made their world possible."
He laughed, and it occurred to me that I had never heard him laugh quite like that.
In my mind I remembered all the pain I had caused him, all the lives I had torn from his grasp and I thought I would see the embers of his hatred for me but within the softest shades of blue I had ever seen all I saw was the desperate desire from one soul to bond with another.
Looking back now, I hadn't realized it then or when I said goodbye to him on his deathbed a year after but I know now within my heart one thing,
I have lived a better life for having had him within it. | I wake up and wet stench on my pillow is proof of life. I rub the sleep out of my eyes before I get up to the restroom. I place toothpaste on the brush, wet the combination, and begin to brush my teeth, only before I can begin, the toothbrush is knocked out of my hand.
"Not on my watch." a caped crusader announces.
I groan. "For the love of god, leave me alone already, please."
I give up on brushing my teeth. It's not worth the hassle.
I pull down my pants and sit on the toilet. A few minutes of flipping through my phone and the urge finally comes to a breaking point.
"Here we go." I whisper to myself in delight.
"Not on my watch." a tiny, caped crusader announces as he flies upward and pushes the fecal matter back into my rectum.
"Jesus, fucking christ!" I scream. Leave me the fuck alone. "I'm not the bad guy anymore! I think it's pretty safe to say that all you assholes are the villains at this point."
Nobody answers. But I am certain some of them are watching. Waiting to foil my plans, no matter how mundane they are, no matter how necessary.
I waddle to the kitchen, my rectum a little fuller than it should be, and pour myself a bowl of cereal. The spoon, just about to touch my lips, gets knocked out of my hand only to be followed by, "Not on my watch." the source of my annoyance unseen. "How many invisible superheros are there out there?" I ask myself, "I guess we'll never really know." I answer myself.
We're not born bad. We can't be. Sometimes people push us to be bad. And sometimes, they simply push too far.
\*Cue villainy music\* | 2019-03-05T17:34:00 | 2019-03-05T17:30:10 | 74 | 12 |
[WP] Every generation the five brightest are paired up with the five dumbest in the world for a mysterious test. You are one of the ten, but nobody knows from which group they came. | The problem with intelligence is that there's no one measure. The first generational tests were an utter disaster. Before the arranged marriages had even been finalised there had been three duels and one fatality. But it was nearly 1000 years later. The new generation had reached age and through these tests our understanding had reached near perfection.
The new group of ten were split as the smartest and dumbest person for each of five types of intelligence. The most creative, the brightest scientific mind, the most physically capable, the most socially adept and the greatest philosopher of the age. We had the best and the worst from each type.
I looked around the room, when I'd been invited I'd assumed I had to be the brightest scientific mind. I'd graduated at sixteen, doctorate by twenty. But the truth was as I heard the stories around the room my uncertainty grew. The room had six women and four men, ethnically diverse. I was the only wheelchair user in the room, but I had been told that physical aptitude didn't mean strength, but spatial ability, fast reflexes and motor memory. So, I had no idea why I might be there.
We had: a great nanophysicist, creator of the nanorobots you probably use to clear your house; a tall man who had sat in silence for the whole meeting so far; a man, short and plump, decorated war hero and poet; a famous musician; political advisor to the First Minister; a maid who spoke at length about his upbringing; a famous author; a builder; a scary looking woman who didn't speak English; and, me.
The problem was that as we went around the room each persons strength and flaws seemed matched and fixed. The war hero was physically agile for sure, and creative, but also a bumbling fool who's speech was logically inconsistent. The musician could express her thoughts on the world well, but was she creative when she never wrote the songs herself? The man in silence never spoke a word that was unconsidered, so must he be the logical force?
"So," I said awkwardly. The silence having dragged on too long. "I know we're meant to be deciding who marries who, but, in the interest of full disclosure, I'm gay, I'm not wanting to end up in a heterosexual couple unless I have to."
The war hero nodded and looked at me, "I guess we can..."
"I'm a pacifist - I'm not sure I could given what you've done."
The musician piped up, "That's no way to speak to someone who fought for your country."
"He *invaded* my country. Heck, he could have been the one who bombed my fucking house when I was a teenager."
The nanophysicist raised an eyebrow. "Do we really need to to talk politics here, we're just waiting for the experiments to start."
"The experiments have already started, this whole thing is an experiment." The builder sighed.
"Obviously." The maid said. "What do you think the first experiment is? The wedding arrangement thing is at the end of the week, right?"
The room went silent again.
"Seeing how long it takes for people to get angry?" The war soldier glared at me.
I rolled my eyes, "Maybe it's just to see how long the author can take to give everyone dialogue."
The quiet man spoke, "I know what the experiment is. This room is locked and airtight." | I woke in small metal container. The walls had the wavy pattern of a cargo crate, and the size fit the idea as well. There where ten of us, I was the first to wake up. It was clear what was happening, I had been told of the risks when I submitted my paper.
I was about 21 at the time and had just finished my philosophy paper. I knew it was good, even from my harsh self criticism. It was another unmistakable 100, and over time, that brings unwanted attention. My prof had told me a few weeks earlier that I should start making mistakes, but I had to much honour in what I did. Although discovering the meaning to life might have been a bit flamboyant. On my way home from the school I could already hear the helicopter. They followed me, and I knew I had overdone it.
Now I was in a small container with four other people sleeping on the ground, and five other in full blown comas. The sound of their heartbeats on the machines eventually woke up the other four strangers.
"...oh shit does my head hurt..." the old man in the brown vest yawned. I could recognize him from his popular book series; TARN BACKSTER Learn The World And Its History.
"FUUUCK!" The woman in the blue vest yelled as she realized what was going on. She had been on television the night before receiving a scientific achievement award.
Two other men woke up silently. They both knew what was going, and everyone knew them. Mark Cameer, and Ben Owen. They had been famous for being here more than ten consecutive times in a row. Mark was a grandmaster, and Ben was a musician. They knew each other very well by now, and started up a conversation.
The girl in the corner woke up last, but it was obvious from the first look that she was different. Drool hung down from her sticking out tongue, and she had strong characteristics of some with down syndrome. "REEEEEEEEEEEEE" she gave a battle cry similar to a howler monkey as she woke up.
"HELLO, I AM D99100, IT IS NICE TO MEET YOU"
I was startled to hear the robotic voice. One of the men in a coma was clearly now attached to a different machine. That was when I realized the girl wasn't with my group, but instead the computer attached to deeply sleeping man. | 2016-03-03T07:43:23 | 2016-03-03T05:36:34 | 35 | 17 |
[WP] “Dead men tell no tales as they say, right? Well your honor, that’s just not true. As a necromancer, I literally summon my first witness to the stand. The victim!” | "Objection!" shouted Barry, the prosecutor.
The judge raised an eyebrow. "On what grounds?"
Barry paused, at a loss for words. "Umm... everything? This... this is just absurd!"
I chuckled at his genuine agitation. Barry had never faced something like this before. It would've amused me more if he wasn't currently trying to imprison me. This whole trial had been stacked against me from the start. Since the murder occurred in the Swamp of Lost Souls, near my shack, everyone assumed I was the one responsible for it because, obviously, who else but the hermit necromancer would do such a heinous thing? No lawyer wanted to take my case so I was forced to improvise my own defense.
The entire courtroom gasped at my reveal. Some people even fainted upon witnessing the reanimated corpse. Normally, I wouldn't bring back a soul for my own gain, but I wasn't about to go to jail for something I didn't do.
"You'll have to provide a better argument," said the judge. "It's unorthodox, but the lack of precedent means necromancy is technically allowed."
Barry rubbed his temples, frustrated.
I started to relax. My biggest concern was that this stunt would only alienate me more from them, but it appeared the judge was truly interested in getting to the bottom of this case. Adam, the victim, was a beloved figure in the community. Bringing out his rotting corpse had to disturb those who weren't used to my craft.
"Okay," said Barry, "hear me out. How do we know this is actually Adam?"
"I'm right here, dude" said Adam, with flies coming out of his mouth. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Shut up!" said Barry. "It's obviously your corpse, but how can we be sure he's not just controlling the body like a puppet? Couldn't he make Adam say anything he wanted?"
The judge nodded sagely, stroking his beard. "An interesting counterpoint."
"That's not fair!" I said. "You're basically asking me to prove his own sentience, and that's philosophically impossible! Especially if you disregard his own testimony!"
"And?" said Barry. "The burden of proof is on you here. If you can't definitively prove he's a reliable witness, then he holds no value to the court."
"Rude," said Adam.
"You're not real!" Barry frowned at me. "Stop manipulating our dead friend!"
"I'm not!"
"Yes you are! And even if that *is* him, you're using his death to your advantage!"
"And I'm supposed to just give up?"
"That would be great, actually."
I looked at the judge, expectantly. "You don't have to take everything at face value. Can't you just... hear him out?"
The judge pursed his lips, unsure, then said:
"I'm afraid not. We can't really be sure one way or the other, can we? And letting this version of Adam speak would definitely influence us, even if we don't give it much weight."
I sighed. It wasn't that they wished justice for Adam. This community just wanted me and my craft to be eradicated. The murder was just a convenient excuse to enforce their puritan ways. Or, to put it another way, they would rather believe I was an evil monster than confront the fact that they had a murderer among them.
Adam, despite his disfigured face, pouted in disappointment. The reason he was in the swamp in the first place was because it was the only place he could meet up with his girlfriend, a woman from an affluent family that had been forbidden from marrying him. When her father discovered their secret, he locked her up and sent his thugs to take care of Adam in their meeting spot. They didn't count on me caring at all about the murder. When I came to the city to report it, I was instantly charged with the crime instead. It appeared the lady's father was too influential.
Barry himself seemed desperate to win the case at all costs, glancing back at the father every so often with great anxiety. I then understood he was only fighting me out of fear of what would happen should he fail. I couldn't blame him for trying to survive, just like me.
That being said, when it was obvious I would never be heard in a fair way, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands. This trial was a mere formality. Something I only did to not look like a complete villain to these people. It was foolish to let them think their laws applied to me. With a snap of my fingers, I shot a beam of energy at Adam that made him a hundred times stronger, then said:
"Fuck it; do whatever you please."
Adam quickly sprinted at the lady's father, cackling with glee as he started punching him around the room.
The courtroom immediately erupted into chaos. The guards couldn't stop Adam from getting his revenge. I slipped out of the room while they were distracted, leaving the city as quickly as possible. That was the last time I would ever play by their rules.
------
>If you enjoyed this, check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | “And do you recall talking with the accused that evening, drinking grape soda by the graveyard?”
In Prosecutor LeBlanc’s fifteen years of practice at the Putnam County Magicstrate court, he had encountered all kinds of enchantments, to varying results. He was accomplished in his work proving that werewolves were werewolves, that a vampire was responsible for that rogue bloodletting incident, who had cast that noxious fume curse. This was to be his first case post-Magic Deregulation Act, and he hoped it didn’t show.
“Objection, your honor,” he began. “Defense is leading the witness.” *Quite literally,* he whispered under his breath.
“It’s a confirmation of my previous questions, your honor.”
“Objection overruled. Proceed.”
LeBlanc sat back down.
“Unnnnnnnngh.” The witness grunted. It was an affirmative sort of grunt, he supposed. At least the jury would think so.
“There. Just one final question,” the defense asked. “When the axe fell on you, was the defendant holding it?”
“Nnngh!”
“There we have it, ladies and gentlemen, that’s the victim’s testimony. He was simply enjoying an evening out at the Monster Wine Grape-Mash. In no way did the defendant contribute to cutting that evening short. Defense rests.”
Judge Gatari nodded. “Any re-cross?”
“Yes, Judge.” LeBlanc stood, smoothing his tie anxiously. The courtroom only had the parties and the jury inside, yet the room felt filled somehow by his own anxieties.
“Ughhhh?” the zombie rose.
“You will remain at the stand, please,” LeBlanc grunted. “Let’s talk a bit more about the defendant. Were you familiar with them before the event?”
There was ruckus of hooting. LeBlanc facepalmed at his own language.
“Objection, defendant should not be referred to in such demeaning terminology, this is an attempt to bias the jury with prejudicial language.”
“Your honor, it was a minor mistake. I did not intend to use that word in the manner the defense suggests. I’ll rephrase.”
“Objection sustained, please do so counsel.”
LeBlanc nodded. The defendant, a great brown owl, squinted at him. It was displeased.
“Did you and the defendant ever interact prior to the Monster Wine Grape-Mash?”
“...ughh.”
Well, that could have meant anything. LeBlanc wished for the fiftieth time that day he hadn’t lost the argument on getting an interpreter. Apparently getting an English interpreter for a zombie was insensitive, but he needed one himself at this rate.
The victim chewed on his arm.
“Is it true that yourself and the defendant,” he pointed across the room, “engaged in weight lifting and shot-put competitions as a duo?”
“Hggggh.” That sounded somewhat positive.
“And that requires the defendant can lift heavy objects, yes?”
“Objection. Hearsay evidence.”
“Your honor, this is well within acceptable boundaries, I’m asking if the victim and defendant’s relationship included an activity the victim personally witnessed.”
“Overruled. Continue.”
“Ugghhh argh ahhh aghh.”
Someone in the jury nodded, seeming to understand.
“I’d just like to say, for the record on appeal, that I have no idea what the defendant just said.”
“You’re free to note what you like on the record,” the judge grumbled.
LeBlanc hoped nobody could see the sweat on his shirt.
“Okay. Last question: if defendant can lift heavy objects, is it possible that the defendant lifted and dropped the axe from midair?”
“Objection!”
A spell flew across the room, shutting his mouth. LeBlanc stomped his feet in rage.
“Counsel, any response?”
He pointed to his mouth, then at the defense table. The opposing counsel was smirking.
That was one way to shut a laywer up, LeBlanc supposed.
(Edit: I took a little bit of artistic liberty here. Tried to get close to the feeling of what a local courtroom is actually like. Source: worked in one for several years) | 2021-10-04T07:28:04 | 2021-10-04T07:17:44 | 357 | 71 |
[WP] The world seems to be your average sword and sorcery world. You, a young adventurer have descended down into a forgotten tomb. There, you find strange metals and plastics. Lights come on without torches. A man made of metal awakens, stumbling toward you. "What year is it?" he asks | "It is the 30th year of the Lord Yffral on the Throne of Krat", I answered, almost without thinking.
The thing in front of me continued wobbling, with odd hissing and purring noises.
"That does not help me", the thing said. It had no mouth, yet a voice emerged from what must have been its head, sounding like the voice of someone trapped.
"I'm sorry", I responded, not sure of what to do. It looked somewhat like a reanimated skeleton, but also like a tree, and like a sculpture.
"How many lords before Yffral on the Throne of Krat?", it asked, and when repeating my words it did it also with my own voice. I shuddered and gripped my sword harder.
"I mean you no harm", the thing said, noticing my reaction.
"Seven lords", I said.
"For how long did they rule?" the thing asked.
I finally started to realize what it really wanted to know.
"We are on the Second Age of the Wonder in the West, it has been seven hundred years in this age".
The thing's head tilted sideways.
"How long since this Wonder... showed up?"
"I believe the First Age of the Wonder in the West lasted for two thousand years, after the Wonder Rose, but you'd have to ask someone who knows more than me".
The thing nodded shakily.
"Please, tell me if this means anything to you: The Synth Era".
I shook my head. "No, I don't know what that is".
"How about The Local Expansion Era?", the thing asked.
Again, I shook my head. "I understand those words better, but no".
"How about The Common Era, or The Christian Era?"
I shook my head once more.
"Do you know the names of any other ages or eras, or even kalpas, before the First Age of the Wonder in the West?", it asked.
"I know there was a time of gods, and a time of the arrival of men. And a time of heroes. And The Founding of Feraim", I offered.
The thing remained silent for a few moments.
"The arrival of men, you say. Also Feraim could be Prime. What is Feraim and how long ago was the arrival of men?"
I shrugged. "I don't know how long ago, I'm not an erudite. As for Feraim, that's the Legendary City, built in the times before time.
"Does the sound Masada, seems at all familiar to you?"
I thought very hard for a few moments. "It sounds like a lot of things..."
"Old things, ancient things perhaps", the thing suggested.
"I don't know, I'm sorry", I said finally, giving up.
"Masada Fortress? Masada Prime? Sanctuary Alpha?" the thing asked.
"I know what a fortress is, and what is sanctuary", I said. I was now feeling quite dumb for being unable to answer any of the thing's questions.
The thing went silent again.
"I was fearing I'd have to emerge too soon. But perhaps I am too late. I should see the night sky", the thing said eventually.
"Sure, I can show you the way out" I said, finally feeling like I could help.
The thing nodded and started to walk, so I walked ahead of it.
"Why do you want to see the night sky?" I asked after some steps.
"I hope I can determine the time by the positions of the stars", it answered me.
I thought for a little bit, then asked, a little ashamed for my continual ignorance: "What are stars?" | I don't like change. I don't like weird things I don't understand. But this is the king of all things I don't understand. I don't understand people made of metal. I've seen people covered in metal, they are called knights and they are badass and they fight dragons and shit. But this guy is like made of metal. His face is metal. His eyeballs are metal. His buttocks were metal.
I wondered what he was and where he came from. And what was all this weird trash that was lying around. Bags made out of some sort of strange material that was shiny but not metallic. It seemed so alien. Maybe this metal guy was also an alien. I have no idea. All I know is that it is weird.
I make an executive decision. I know what I should do is just answer his question. He most likely means no harm. But you know what, I don't like him. He's weird. I take out my sword and I slash into him, but my sword breaks. He looks at me confused.
I perform a spell of incendiary and shoot a fireball at him. It does nothing. His metal body flows a little bit red for a second but fades away just as fast. Damn, he is too powerful. He must really be some advanced alien.
"What year is it?"
Motherfucker just likes to repeat himself, I thought I made it pretty clear I was not in the mood to give him information. I shoot another fireball.
"What year is it?"
Stupid ass metal man. Why was I even scared of him, all he does is say the same thing over and over. He's like a giant parrot. Wait, no. Parrots repeat what you say. What is something that just repeats itself over and over? OH yeah, an idiot. This guy is an idiot. I tell him.
"You're an idiot."
"What year is it?"
"I don't talk to idiots."
"What year is it?"
"Idiot's say 'what year is it?'"
"What year is it?"
"Haha, so you admit you're an idiot!"
"What year is it?"
I get bored of this game. I wonder what to do next. I can't kill him. I've tried everything I could and he is still standing. I decide to turn around and leave him in his weird trash filled tomb and close the door behind me. Whatever that metal man wanted, he wanted nothing to do with it.
40,000 years in the future, the scientists who sent the robot back in time looked at the monitors to see if they succeeded. Did they successfully send the robot back in time? They waited for the robot to send back info on what year it had landed in. | 2022-12-19T16:15:04 | 2022-12-19T14:13:39 | 63 | 30 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | Public safety must be the number one priority. For this reason, the military exists and for this reason the WPGSA, the Worldwide Public Guardian Superhuman Act exists. In order to protect the public from those that would cause harm, with the dawn of superhuman abilities society raised heroes to protect themselves. The only real problem was second or third-generation superhumans, at least in the eyes of a first-generation. Lacked the training needed to successfully combat powerful opponents. Heros of past generations such as Backhand, Dust, and Soulweaver, were far superior to the heroes of today. Simply because they had gone through a strict regiment, one that had slowly grown easier. And all the while those of evil intent watched and waited.
​
I had been a pseudo villain for a while, the name I hid under was Guillotine, nobody knew my power, my enhancement, other than one old freind. They assumed it was some power type ability, thus my ability to move far faster than the average human. They weren't completely wrong, but the excess speed and strength came from working out and the Exoskeleton I had strapped to my body. My real power, my real ability, was in my intelligence. From the age of about six, I was able to decipher how to disarm or defeat an opponent, simply by watching a total of roughly ten minutes of video of it in action. Give or take, every living and mechanical being works in a certain way and has specific weak points that cannot be overwritten, I somehow had an extremely innate sense of these weak points. And was able to exploit them, it was currently my self assigned mission to strengthen the heroes of my home city where they needed it most.
In all honesty, they were doing great they just weren't quite ready to face him. Optic, the direct opposite of one of the most powerful heroes of all time, a man from somewhere in the UK called Strobe, who had the ability to warp reality to his will. Optic had a similar, albeit more limited ability. Thankfully, like al villains. He loved being on camera, and even dangerous as he was. He still had weak points.
One, no matter how powerful. Cannot hear a bullet before it hits them if it is fired from far enough away, I've learned this over the years. Thankfully, Optic was no exception, his head was blown out from roughly a mile away in the middle of a drawn-out fight with the best of my students per se, Uranium.
My city is safe for now, I will continue to strengthen those here. Then move on to the next, for this is my duty. To ensure the safety of the people's lives, by the endangerment of my own. This is the oath I took to myself. And this is the way I shall live. | I am practicing songwriting. So here is a musical theater piece on a villain that clearly out-matches his adversaries. It's a comedy song
Nothing irks me quite like knowing that they'll never see my pity
Nothing rattles me to shame to think they've really done their best
It's not enough to pest this city
And with every passing tick you'd think it can't get any clearer
The maze he's yet to clear, the bomb is ticking ever nearer
He's still caught up in the mirror
Wonder-man, I'm dying to know
How that's ever gonna make a dent
But it's pretty strong as lasers go
(Clicks around security monitor)
Now let's check up on the Wingman, has he bolted through the glass?
I'd say last time was near perfect, I even called the head adjuster
(See human figure dangling from a suspension cable)
Guess he forgot the rocket thruster
(Cable snaps)
. . Boots . .
(Movement from the ceiling)
And then let's not forget Ms. Amazoness up above
Who lost count which lefts to take, I had to turn the heat to two
The things I do for love
Hey you Bruce, up in that vent
I'd like to warm up, progress the show
And quit stomping man, I rent!
All sides undone,
Hands coiling fast,
Will you have time to pray
Or have they failed you too
Reaching for words some
Can make their spirits last
But I won't let this day
Save me in any way
If anyone would come
Remind me what it is
That made a villain fun
That made a tyrant rage
I'm walking off the stage,
The bomb's defused, good night | 2021-05-20T08:29:34 | 2021-05-20T07:57:21 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] You've been cursed. Every lie you tell bends reality to become the truth. At first this didn't seem like a curse at all, but now you've made a grave mistake. | In the early years of our marriage, I used the words much less frequently. The smell of you, and the leftover warmth that radiated from your half of the bed never used to fill me with fear. More often than not, you would be sitting at the table when I entered our kitchen, drinking your coffee. You would be happy to see me, genuinely happy.
These days, I can’t be sure if that’s true. Not without the words.
I wake up, and glance to your empty half of the bed. The sheets are crumpled, and the closet door is thrown open. Last night's fight is already replaying in my head as I close my eyes, desperate for the relief that only the words can bring. “The bedroom is clean,” I exhale.
I open my eyes, and it is so. The bed is made, and the closet door is shut. I allow myself look at the floor, and see no signs of what you may have done before I awoke. But even without the evidence from our bedroom, I can still picture you in your car, flying down the interstate. I speak the next words as the bloodshot eyes of my reflection stare back at me from the bathroom mirror. "You are waiting for me in the kitchen."
The stairs from our bedroom creak beneath my weight. You used to joke that you could hear me coming from a mile away. I wonder if you are still in the mood to joke, but realize as I reach the bottom that I don’t have the courage to find out. “You are happy to see me.”
You are reading the newspaper as I enter the kitchen. You lower it to reveal your pretty face, and its mask of a smile. “Good morning, honey,” you say, your voice filled with a genuine warmth that was absent last night. “I made you some coffee.”
I return the smile, but know that it is no more real than your love for me. As I fill my mug, my mind wanders again from the present that I have created. I want to know where you were before I summoned you back, and where you would be if it weren’t for my power. Would you be with another man? Would you be truly happy?
My hand grips the coffee mug tighter as I sit beside you. You reach out to touch my forearm, with that stupid, fake smile still plastered on your lips, and I feel nothing but contempt. “I can’t keep living like this,” I say.
“Like what?” You look confused, but you’re still smiling. You don’t how much pain you’re causing me, because I won’t let you. I need to try something different.
The idea hits me as I take my last sip of coffee.
I thoroughly wash my hands before leaving for work. It’s difficult to know that you won’t be home when I get back, but I truly think things will be better for me this way. I won’t have to deal with the pain of living with you anymore, but I will always know where you are.
I leave the front door wide open as I walk to my car. I am sure the neighbors will notice. When I have pulled out of the driveway, I speak the words one final time.
“I am not a suspect." | It was a gift, of sorts. Any lie I tell changes the reality around me so it becomes truth. If I say that I am rich, boom, I have cash piled around me. If I say I've dated Beyonce, I just need to show them the album dedicated to me. Hell, if I said I was a bloodthirsty werewolf, I'd tear them apart on the spot.
I loved it. From the earliest parts of my life I could live out any dream, no matter how fantastical or ludicrous. I could do anything I wanted. No one challenged me after the school bully "disappeared". I became one of the brightest students after a little fib. I felt-knew- that I was powerful.
Then came the love of my life. I met her at college. She was everything I wanted. More. I couldn't dream of her. I would do anything to get her attention, yet she always seemed so far, so distant. She finally allowed me to take her on a date. I made sure not to disappoint. I put all my heart and soul into this. She walked in and I knew I found the one.
I got married soon after. Our honeymoon was in the Maldives. Empty beaches, stretches of sand for miles. It was there we first conceived. A baby boy. Emile. My love. I put in enough effort to make him the perfect child. But then I realized he had the same power. I only noticed it when I lied about me knowing about his powers. Then I became scared. I didn't know what he could do to me, my wife. I panicked. I immediately lied about his powers altogether. As his powers disappeared, his anger towards me turned into frustration. He used himself to ruin my marriage. Driving a wedge between us. In a fit of rage, I made him disappear. But my marriage faltered. I drove myself insane. I couldn't murder her. There was nothing left. I stared out at the foitball pitch. A man came up to me, "Are you alright, man?" I stared at him, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. "I don't exist." | 2017-07-14T06:25:07 | 2017-07-14T04:57:57 | 52 | 11 |
[WP] Adapt a famous fairy tale so it has a realistic ending.
I'm about to go to sleep. Bedtime story!... Except that I won't read anything until I get up. Happy Saturday. | And the Prince, after battling with the dragon, climbed up to the highest tower to rescue the lady of great legend. She had fiery red hair, and a glow to her skin as of the moon itself.
"My beauty... My princess.... My love." The Prince bowed down to her, resting on one knee. "I have come to rescue you, fairest of maidens. We have been sworn to each other's love since long ago, and if it be your wish, as I have traveled the Two Kingdoms, the vast Plains of Armaunor and crossed the treacherous Mountain of World's End, I bid you, please come back so we may live our days in righteous peace and royal majesty."
The princess stared at him, slack-jawed. Then she stuck her finger up her nose, pulling out a monstrous booger that might as well have been the size of the dragon which had just fallen to the prince's sword. She wiped it on her dress. The prince saw several stains where past boogers had been wiped off.
"Read me a story."
The prince looked at her. "M...My lady?"
"A STORY, A STORY, READ ME A STORY!" The princess began to jump up and down on her bed, repeating this demand louder and louder.
The Prince looked upon her bedside table, noticing a pile of children's books. The handsome Prince Bartholoemew, always cunning of mind and ever so swift of thought, began to realize what being locked in a room since the age of seven must really do to one's mind.
"Aw, fuck." | *And so it was, that upon awakening, the Sleeping Beauty saw the charming prince's face over hers, and pressed charges against him for his misconduct, for he had no means of obtaining consent while she was asleep. And so it was, that the Prince had royal power and manipulated the legal system to frame the princess of conspiring against the throne. The Prince is now a great and mighty king, and the beauty lives in a prison to this very day.* | 2014-03-29T11:38:58 | 2014-03-29T11:23:57 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] in your world, everyone has a almost entirely unique symbol on their wrist, soulmates have the same symbol. Your whole life you've been drawing on a symbol with a sharpie to hide the fact you don't have a soulmate. One day, you meet someone without a symbol, just like you.
Thank you everyone for informing me that this is a stupid and pathetic writing prompt but I like writing in this genre. If you do not like this writing prompt, please ignore it, you don't have to comment that I'm an unoriginal 14 year old. You can easily move on to another prompt you enjoy. | It was one of those random encounters you get every once in a while in your life. It was raining and I didn't have an umbrella on me, so I had to find some shelter quick. I ran into some random small cafe and found myself a table. I briefly dried myself off and checked my wrist. Thankfully, my symbol didn't smudge at all. The waitress walked up to me to take my order. She had long brown hair and warm brown eyes that felt friendly, yet shy.
"May I take your order?"
"Uh, yeah, just a coffee with some cream in it please."
I look at her wrist while she writes my order on a notepad. Her symbol looked like nothing I had seen before, at least compared to other people's. It was almost like it was hand drawn or something.
She glanced at my own wrist and says,
"You have a strange symbol."
"Yeah, well your one to talk," I replied.
"Well, this is what I have to live with."
"Whatever."
After I finish my coffee and the rain let up, I give my tip to that waitress and leave. Ever since that day, I decided to go to that cafe every day. It was a really nice cafe and had a really nice and comforting interior. The coffee wasn't that bad either. I even sat at the same table the whole time. Two weeks had passed by. The waitress was taking my order, as per usual, when then she asked me something.
"What's your name?"
Confused, I say, "Why do you want to know?"
"Because you've been coming here everyday lately and since I'm always the one serving you I might as well get your name."
I smirk. "Fine, my name's Ken."
"Well, nice to meet you Ken. My name is Jelica."
It was an odd name, but to be fair my name is pretty out of place also. She was a really sweet girl, her heart seemed so warm, just like the coffee here in this cafe. She glanced at my wrist, and says,
"By the way, it seems like your symbol on your wrist is always changing slightly everyday."
"Oh really? Huh, I don't know. Must be your imagination."
Everyday, my hand drawn symbol somehow gets smudged by the end of the day, so I have to redraw it everyday. I guess it does change slightly every time I redraw it. Just then, I see someone walk in the cafe. He was a very distinctive guy, who was big and muscular. He looked tough, or at least tried to look tough. He was rather too stereotypical if you ask me. He walked up to me and said,
"Hey man, you tryin to hit on my girl?"
"You mean Jelica? No, not at all. She was just taking my order is all."
"Good. I just want to let you know that if you fuck with her, I'll fuck you up."
"Alright, whatever."
He was really aggressive the way he said it. Just like I thought, a stereotypical asshole. I glanced at Jelica. She seemed really uncomfortable and annoyed. The guy walked away and out of the cafe. Jelica sat down in the chair across from me, and says,
"I'm so sorry about him. Did he scare you at all?"
"No, not at all. Don't worry about it. Is he your soulmate?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess so."
I did get a look at his symbol while he was there. It looked similar to Jelica's, except some parts were badly drawn in. It was like a 10 year old had drawn it in, I would know since I drew it just like that when I was at that age. I could tell they weren't truly soulmates. A week since that small encounter had passed by. She and I would have nice conversations while I was there. She seemed to like my company a lot, and admittedly, so did I. Suprisingly, we had quite a few things in common, which kind of surprised me. At this point, I kind of wished that she was my soulmate. One afternoon, I was walking home when up ahead I see Jelica and her soulmate. He seemed really angry and drunk from what I could tell. Jelica seemed very scared, she was probably on the verge of tears. Then he started shouting.
"What the fuck bitch!? Your not breaking up with me! Aren't we soulmates!?"
He then looked straight at me as I was walking towards them.
"It was you, wasn't it!? Your the reason she's trying to break up with me!"
He then started to run towards me. I do a side step at the last second and trip him. He falls forward face first into the sidewalk. I make a run for it. I grab Jelica by the wrist and take her with me as he slowly starts getting back up. He chases us down until he runs out of breath. We run into a nearby ally and stop to catch our breathes. As I was looking down I noticed my hand was covered in ink. I looked at my own wrist and find that my symbol was just fine. I look at Jelica's wrist. It was covered in ink, and where her symbol used to be was now just smudged ink. My jaws dropped. Tears started rolling from her eyes.
"Alright! You found my secret! I have no symbol! I can't help it if I don't have a soulmate, I'll be fine on my own anyways!"
I stare for another 10 seconds, still processing the situation. Then, I busted out laughing. I don't know why I really laughed. Maybe it was the irony of the whole situation. I licked my thumb, and start wiping off my fake symbol. Now her jaws had dropped. Another 10 seconds passed by, and then we finally hugged.
This is how I finally met my soulmate, after years of thinking I never had one. | I am a very lucky man. I am a lucky man because I am the living proof that when God closes the door on you, he often opens a window in return.
Since the ripe age of 20 everyone starts to get a unique "social vector identifier" on their wrist. They say SVI is a complex graphical representation of your personality generated by the governing super computer. Like a barcode of your soul. Its exact purpose is never explained to us but before long the entire human populations are using it to find "the perfect match" to spend the rest of their lives with. Well, that makes sense. According to legend the Mona Lisa is really a feminine version of Da Vinci, because the ideal woman for him is none other than himself. So if there is an accessible way to find your doppleganger in the opposite sex, why not?
Unfortunately for me, that method didn't work. For some reasons my wrist was still smooth and clean at 23. At first I thought it was just late. My old buddies called the latecomers "cherubs". Their theory was that people got SVI late because their hearts were too pure and innocent for the governing computer to make a determination. At first I thought it was funny. However by 25 I knew something was up. I lost count the number of times I had sex with hookers and strippers by then. No way I was pure and innocent, yet I was still a cherub. The god damn computer forgot about me and the jokes stopped being funny.
By the time I turned 37 I was richer and lonelier than most. It was easy to accomplish both when I had no prospect of meeting my significant other. It was harder to hide the real reason I was still a bachelor, so I got pretty good at drawing some obtuse design and managed to fool everyone into thinking my personality was just so unique and unbelievable that no one was a match for me. At least it stopped all the cherub talks, until that night.
I met her a year ago. I was sitting by myself in a bar, drunk and depressed as usual, weeping silently at the injustice bestowed upon me. As I wiped away my tears a handkerchief appeared. A stunning woman stood in front of me. I was at a loss for words, then she spoke...
"Your uh, Snoopy? It's getting smudged."
Oh shit was all I could think of. I was in a panic. I blurted out, "It's on my other wrist!"
She chuckled and showed me her arms. Her pearly, smooth arms with nothing on them. I was shocked. Shocked and relieved. My search was over.
From that day on life has taken a great turn. She likes 20th century cartoon just like me. It's effortless for us to cry and smile together. One difference though. Unlike me, she is a real cherub. An angel at heart. Each day passes so quickly when I am with her. I don't want this to ever end.
Speaking of which, there she is!
-----
"Hey Doug! How is it going today?" Hello Mrs. Amber Eckard I am doing just great! In fact I have been reminiscing about how much of a miracle it is that we ended up together. Hey do you want to...
"Doug, I have some bad news to tell you." What? Did your asshole boss chew you out? Are you sick? Should we....
"No, the test is out. They made a mistake. We're not really a match. They found my real SVI. I am sorry darling. You know how the court looks at it when SVI is involved. I'll leave this here. Please sign it by Friday. It will mean a lot to me."
She got up and left. I stare at the divorce papers on the table. Something about her getting the house. My phone is ringing. I can't think. Why does this have to happen to me? My phone is still ringing.. what the fuck does this guy want?
"Mr. Eckard? This is International Recovery Incorporated calling on behalf of Photonic Beauty. We have reasons to believe you are listed as the emergency contact for Ms. Michelle Hawthorne perhaps also known as Amber Eckard? Please remind her of the fact that she incurred a charge of $35,250 for laser removal operations she undertook a year and a half ago. With compound interest that amounts to ..." I hang up and dial another number. A number I haven't used for a while.
"This is Doug. Put Ginger on the phone."
"Mr. Eckard, it's been a while! To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Ginger, cut the crap I might have a deal for you. Rattle my memory a bit and tell me again the name of your ex."
I drink the whiskey in one gulp. It's true. When God closes one door he often opens a window. It feels good to be a cherub again. | 2017-08-06T18:44:02 | 2017-08-06T18:05:26 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] You never miss a pill ever since you were a kid and diagnosed with a deadly illness. One night while out, you’re kidnapped by human traffickers. You plea to be let go because you’ll die without your pills. Turns out, the pills were keeping your telekinesis at bay. It’s starting to come back. | My mother always insisted that the staff had promised her they wouldn’t record or tape our visiting hours. There was a nice park on the grounds, with a basketball court and a set of swings we sometimes sit in. But I don’t like to see the huge fences around, so we just stay in my room, talking and playing games.
*“Where did you go last month?” I would ask.*
*She was a flight attendant, and had my sisters to take care of, but she always made time to see me.*
*“I went to Rio de Janeiro. Do you know where that is?”*
*“It’s…in Mexico?”*
*She laughed. “It’s in Brazil. There’s a great big mountain, with a huge statue on top.”*
*“A statue of who?”*
*“Just some guy. But that’s not even the best part. They have this huge beach…”*
*My mom took me to the beach once, when I was four. Before the men in uniforms took me to the facility. So I don’t remember much, only that the water was tough, like it was alive and scratchy.*
*I would tell my mother this.*
*“Sometimes, mom, I swear…it’s like the ocean is alive. But that’s not possible, right? It’s just water.”*
*“Well, anything is possible, sweetie.”*
And then I would ask if she thought me coming back home was possible, and she would shake her head, and take out a tissue, and mess up her makeup.
She hasn’t come in a year. The staff says this time is crucial for my recovery, and they want to limit all confounding factors.
Whatever that means.
\-
The raid was very late at night, to the point where it’s actually early. Sometimes, I get up at this time, and I have to go to the bathroom, and it’s annoying, because I have to get a guard.
But I heard noises, upstairs. My room is so deathly quiet, I’ve come to hear almost everything. I heard a bang, like something falling off a table.
Then, silence. I lay there for what seemed like an eternity, wondering if it was safe to fall asleep.
Finally, the door opened, and I heard footsteps. I dared not look. I didn’t see who had come until he was standing over me.
His face was long, especially from my angle. The man had a rough face. One of his eyes was not like the other, and he had several long cuts his stubble failed to hide. But still, he looked sad, like looking at me hurt.
“He’s so young,” he said, his voice soft. “It will be so easy for them.”
“To do what?” another voice asked.
“To make him into what they want.”
And then he reached into the pocket of his pants, and stuck a needle into my arm.
(to be continued below) | "-nna die, please!" The laughing ceased and was replaced by a momentary sound of a water balloon hitting the entire room followed by the splash of warm water over my body. The room was silent.
Hello?"
The blind fold was pitch black and let nothing in, the ropes around my wrists chaffed but already they felt loser, I thought i heard the knots being untied though but couldn't make out any other sounds but the occasional drip of what must be rain water.
"M-my pills" I managed. My savior didn't respond but continued to untie the knots.
"You need to get my pills if I dont take them ill die" From what could have been a few feet or meters I heard the familiar clickity clack of a pill being dropped into a prescription bottle. he was collecting them
*while untying my hands? no, his friend, police maybe, what had they done?*
no sooner did the ropes fall the ground had the other man placed the bottle in my hand. i frantically opened it popping a warm wet pill to my lips before spitting it to the ground where it made a sploosh sound.
*blood?*
I tore the blindfold from my face.
there were no men no woman the door was locked and i hadn't heard it open.
their was only me. an inch deep in blood of what I could only assume were my captors from the bits of meet and bone that dripped from the walls and ceiling.
I needed to go, I needed to get out. I ran for the door it opened as I approached it. no one on the other side I stepped through the door way and turned back to take one last look at the room I turned away and closed my eyes tightly the door slammed behind me just as quickly, just as tightly. | 2019-11-13T22:35:17 | 2019-11-13T21:44:49 | 95 | 21 |
[WP] As a minion of the devil charged with stealing souls, you're used to people being too holy, too strong, too smart, or even too fast to capture on first try. And then there's this guy... | "Nah."
For the last three weeks, I've been trying to tempt this guy. Now, let's face facts, I'm good at my job. Stealing souls has a bit of a formula to it. Go in, find their desire, offer an exchange, and let the rest work itself out. Boss does the actual granting, but a soul is a soul and I'm on a roll!
Well, was. I could usually turn around a soul in under a week. My overall average is 3 days, but this guy was throwing my curve! Sometimes, we encounter people who are very pious. Maybe they're strong and see trading their soul as weak. Smart ones who know better than to deal with a devil. And then there's "Gotta catch me first!" Exemplary people like that, we get to just cut and run. But this guy... THIS GUY!
Anything I offer, he says no. He's single, no interest in romance, dead end job that pays well enough, small circle of friends that are good for brief company but nothing longer. No addictions, no vices, no perversions, nothing I can twist.
He sees me roiling, clearly upset. "Why's this so important?"
"Because I can't drop this. You're not exemplary enough to be given up on. So either I find some way to tempt you or I'm stuck trying for... I don't know how long!"
"Sucks to be you." That gets me mad enough to start steaming. "Whoa, sorry, that was rude, man. I didn't think you'd be that upset. This really matters to you, doesn't it?"
"Well, it's kind of my reason to, you know, exist!"
"Wow, heavy." He looked like he was thinking for a moment. "So, you just need to strike a deal and you're good?"
"What? Well, yeah, but it's gotta be for something you really want."
"And that's the problem. Nothing I re... well. Hmm."
Oh. Oh no. Don't do that. Don't give me that glimmer of hope. "Yes?"
"What about, like, an all expense paid trip to Disney Land for me and my parents?"
"... ... ... whut?"
"Look, when I was a kid, my parents promised to take me for my birthday. Then some jackass hit my mom with his car. Between the medical bills and everything, birthday trip cancelled. We never recovered financially from that but they always felt kinda bad breaking a promise to their kid. Even if it wasn't their fault. So, if we could go, maybe it'd cheer them up. I know they're older now, but a vacation like that would be nice. You get my soul and you can party on."
No. It couldn't be that simple. Could it? "I might be able to do that... I gotta check."
"Check? You were offering millions before, this would be a drop in the bucket." I raised a finger to shush him while I pulled out my iPhone. (What? My boss believes in the company.) I started typing to get approval.
*Request: 3 all expense paid disney*
`EZ. Catch?`
*Wish fulfillment. Denied as kid, parents felt bad, wants to cheer them up. Selflessness clause?*
`Does he go 2?`
*Yes.*
`Indulgent enuff. We get soul, he get trip. Deal.`
"Boss says you're good to go. We'll send the details soon but..." I put my hand out. "All you gotta do is shake on it."
He looked pensive for a second, then shrugged his shoulders. "Deal." He felt the heat as he shook and I was out of there.
=======
*3 months later...*
I was back on a roll. Since that hurdle, I had claimed another 40 souls. Then, my iPhone started ringing. The Boss usually just texts. Voice was for trouble.
"Hello, Boss?"
"**You've got a problem.**"
"OK, what happened?"
"**Remember that hard case about 3 months ago? Disney for 3?**"
"Yeah, you approved that."
"**You didn't give me all the facts.**"
"What do you mean? I told you everything he told me."
"**You didn't tell me he did it for** ***you!***"
"... ... ... whut?"
"**And now, I got the Big Guy Upstairs breathing down my neck because it broke the selflessness clause!**"
"Wait, what do you mean 'for me'? He didn't do anything for me, he just... made... Oh no."
"**Oh yeah. An angel is coming for your ass right now.**"
"How long do I have?"
"I̶̲͑'̶̨̾m̷͕̂ ̷̧̓h̵̭́e̷͚̊r̸̻͘e̶̜̎.̵̜̏"
And today was such a good day. | I've been a demon for a week now. Lucifer had instructed I practice my trickery and deceit. At first, I felt horrible, forcing people to sign their souls away. But after a little while it's begun to feel more natural. Of course, some people aren't tricked so easily; Nie is from a religious family and knows all the secrets. Then there are people who would question every detail to the point I'd get a headache, others who'd put up a fight - I could use my powers, but that feels like foul play and Lucifer told me it was my choice - and then there are some who will run before I can even open my mouth, and giving chase was always hard.
Still, I got results, and that's all my boss cares about. I'm called into his chambers once again. "Yes, master?" I say, kneeling.
"It's time, Flora" he responds. "You've certainly improved your skills. Now you're ready to make a claim. You're not after a soul this time; you're after a flesh and blood human."
"I understand." I prepare to leave, but Lucifer stops me.
"Don't use the bracelets on just anyone" he remarks. "Remember: you can only have one claim at a time, and a claim is intended for keeps. You can't 'change your mind'. Got it?"
"Understood. I have an idea, don't worry boss." I step through the portal and into the school field. I spot my target: Aaron. He's talking to Zack. I take my human form and approach the pair. "Umm... hi, guys, how-"
"THERE SHE IS!" Aaron yells. "Let us see your demon form, Flora! Come on!"
"Uh... alright..." I switch back. I notice Zack eye me up and down. "What you thinking, Zack?"
"OH! I... umm..." Zack seems speechless. It clicks.
"Zack... I'm naked, but I'm still a demon, you don't want me like this... do you?" I stare at Zack.
Aarons laughs. "Oh, Zack, still can't get her out of your head?"
Zack seems caught off-guard. "What? Huh?"
I shake my head in amusement. "Well, my target WAS Aaron, but..." I bring out the bracelets.
"Oh, I wouldn't mind, you know that, girl, but I wanna see what Zack has to say as much as you do!" Aaron nudges Zack.
"Huh..." Zack puts his hand on his chin, and I notice a smile spread on his face. "A kiss, a date, and a sleepover."
I blink and look at Aaron. "Yeah, not doing that. Aaron?"
"Course." Aaron presents his arm. I double-check the bracelets, then slap the bracelets on the right arms.
I take Aaron to see Lucifer. We both bow. "That was interesting. Aaron's certainly... eager."
Aaron shrugs. "I just like the cool and wicked... and I trust Flora."
Lucifer grins. "Flora?"
"O... of course." I mess with the bracelet, and Aaron is forced towards me. "Lucifer likes demons to remind humans where they stand."
Aaron shrugs. "I understand. It makes sense. I still trust you" Aaron gives me a friendly hug.
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This story is a part of my series, [To Love a Demon.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/xqefwu/to_love_a_demon/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! | 2022-11-15T11:38:03 | 2022-11-15T11:23:46 | 537 | 17 |
[WP] You are an ordinary human going about your day when you suddenly find yourself in hell. Looking down you see yourself standing on some crudely drawn symbols. A nearby demon child holds up some paper and says "Um...can you help me with my homework?" | As I stepped out of my house to head to work, I turned back to lock my door. When I turned back around again, the whole world had completely changed. Fires burned everywhere. Rocky landscapes spanned as far as my eye could see. Rivers of lava flowed through the landscapes, unceasing, melting anything that fell into them.
Carved onto some of the rocks were symbols that looked... vaguely demonic? I was too busy trying to figure out what happened to tell.
As I looked around, I spotted... something. Crouched down on the ground, frantically scribbling something with a jagged rock. When it finished and completed the rough circle around the symbol, a deformed creature appeared in the center. It screamed for a few seconds before exploding into dust. The creature sat back, looking defeated.
"Um... hello?" I stammered.
The creature spun around quickly, suddenly appearing excited. My initial theory now seemed more supported. It certainly looked like a demon, though it was small, almost childlike.
"Ah, my helping human is here! Can you help me mister?"
I was still very lost.
"...Help you with what?"
"My homework of course!" The demonic creature shouted excitedly.
"demons have homework?" At this point I thought I was having a fever dream or something.
"Of course! We have to be educated too you know." It seemed very enthusiastic.
"And I can help you with it?" I replied
"Oh certainly!" It shouted. "We bring humans down here all the time to help with our work!"
"Down here?"
"Yeah, down here in Hell!"
My suspicions were confirmed. I was in Hell. A feeling of dread set in.
"So... if I'm in Hell does that mean I'm dead?"
"No silly, you'd remember if you had died. We demons have humans brought down here from time to time to help us improve Hell to better serve its function. One of the most important things is teaching demons how to create better versions of Hell for each person. Every human that comes down here for real experiences their own personal Hell, but there are certain aspects that apply to many people. So we bring humans down to figure out what things humans would find horribly awful to experience."
"So.., your homework is to learn how to create a better personal Hell?"
"Pretty much!" It seemed excited about its work.
"I... guess I can help."
"Hooray!" It ran up to me excitedly. "Now tell me, what kind of things would humans find terribly, horribly frustrating or awful? Keep it modern, we spare no expense down here."
I thought for a moment. "I mean, burning in one of those pits of lava would sure be painful."
"Oh come on, you can do better than that! We've been sending people into lava pits since the beginning!"
It was really looking for something new.
"Well... people really hate when their cell phone has bad reception..."
It perked up a bit. "Oh, something with cell phones! Humans do so love those."
"If you gave them access to a phone, but with bad enough reception that it was barely usable, I know I'd find that horribly frustrating.
"Now that's what I'm talking about!" It scribbled some symbols down on the nearby rocks, taking notes and then looking excitedly back at me.
Over the next hour I gave it as horrible of ideas that I could think of. Itches you can't scratch. Inconveniences you can't escape. It would be a truly annoying Hell.
"Wow, thanks mister, you had a lot of great ideas!" It had a broken, toothy grin, but I could tell it was happy.
"Yeah, no problem. Glad I could help." I still wasn't sure this was all happening.
"I can send you back in a jiffy. Don't worry about compensation either, it'll be sent back with you. Thanks for helping make Hell a worse place!"
As I was chuckling at his remark, I blinked, and I was back on my front porch. I could feel a strange soreness on my upper right arm. I went back inside to the bathroom and looked in the mirror as I rolled my sleeve up. A tally count of five, four straight and one slashing through it, appeared burned into my arm. I still wasn't sure if I was just abducted or something.
A few months later, I was out at a bar. After getting wasted, I headed home with a girl I met there. We hooked up. I lied to my girlfriend the next day about where I was.
Immediately afterward, I felt a strange sensation in my right arm. I checked the burn mark. One of the tallies was gone.
EDIT : a letter | I was going about my day just like any other day. I awoke the kids with a glass of cold water to the face, pulled the covers off of my wife and was getting ready to drive to work with the windows down and my music blaring when all of a sudden I found myself in Hell. Not Hell like the steamy confines of a bathroom stall with a neighbor who just unleashed the stench of the century. And not Hell like the Book Club my wife hosts on Sunday evenings where I have to act all subdued as I greet her friends and resist the urge to offer to waterboard them with their stupid red wine and jam a cube of cheese up each of their nostrils. This was real Hell. Accursed, demonic, Satanic Hell.
I know this because I saw the demon child. He wasn't quite like my demon children running about the house with their muddy shoes on. He wasn't trying to play the violin or telling me about some schoolyard drama as he picked his nose and then wiped his hands on my pant-leg. He was a red, horned imp with garish claws and a spiky tail. A real demon child. And apparently he had conjured me using some crudely drawn symbols that I was now standing on. That was a shit pentagram, that was for certain. Stupid kid.
"What the fuck do you want, you demonic little shit?" I asked him in my sweetest parent voice. He gaped at me, fangs showing and spiked tongue kind of flopping about. I figured I might as well teach him the language of the layman now. The cool kids always knew the bad words when I was a kid.
"I... Um... Can you help me with my homework?" What the fuck? Demons had homework? I was no good at math, but I figured I could goodly help him with some English. Hopefully it wasn't Spanish or something un-American like that.
I stared at him for a second. I thought about kicking him. I wondered if I could kick him out of this dimension and into mine and I would go to demon-school and take his classes and claim he possessed me. That seemed mean. "Depends," I answered reluctantly. He smiled. He probably shouldn't have. It was terrifying. "Quit doing that, you're creeping me out." Much better. "What subject?"
He glanced down at his paper. Seriously, kid? He couldn't even remember what subject? Definitely a basket case this one, if they had baskets in Hell. "Um... It's called..." Yeah, I don't think he knew how to read.
"Give me that, you dimwit." He frowned. Just as scary as the smile. Hopeless. He handed me the paper.
"Torture Techniques of Today..." I read aloud. Hell yes. Can I say that here still? "Count me in, buddy," I told him with a devious grin that he matched. Creepy. This would prove very helpful for my life back at home.
"Mister?" He interrupted my thoughts. The urge to kick him out of this realm was back. I glared at him. "It's bring your pet to class day tomorrow. I'll bring you, okay?"
I didn't say anything at first. I thought about what I had back home. A job. A house. A wife. Kids. None of those needed immediate attention. Plus, I deserved a warm vacation. "Okay," I told him finally.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-09-17T08:46:12 | 2019-09-17T07:58:29 | 1,461 | 111 |
[WP] Charon, boatman of the river Styx, gets the last two coins he needs for what he's been saving up for since the beginning of time.
Charon always takes two coins for passage into the land of the dead. Whatever he has been saving up for, he has finally reached his goal.
Edit: Thank you, person who gave this gold! It really goes to all you writers! | "Sir? Sir, may I help you?" she asked the man by the water cooler.
He had been pacing restlessly around the waiting room all through her lunch break, staring at the TV, and sometimes at other customers. Based on the somewhat shabby state of his clothing and the unsettling, unfocused look in his eyes, she doubted that he was actually there on business. Probably someone's senile grandpa who wandered in, thinking he was at the grocery store.
He nodded and approached her desk, quicker than she would have expected from someone his age. Quite a bit taller too. She gestured to the chair but he didn't move.
"So, what brings you to our office?" she asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. She really, really hoped she wouldn't have to call security.
"I want to buy a boat."
He said it bluntly, clearly, without the slightest hint that there was a screw loose anywhere inside that wrinkled head. But she still almost laughed.
"Sir, I think there's been a misunderstanding; we're a *shipping* company. We run freighters and oil tankers for large-scale international deliveries. I think you may be looking for something smaller, perhaps? Like a speedboat? Or a yacht? There's a place by the aquarium downtown that rents-"
"No. I want a big boat. One of yours. I can pay."
"Sir...the prices for our ships can run into the tens of millions. We don't usually sell to individuals."
Something crawled across his leathery face that may have been a smile. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out an envelope, and placed it gently on her desk.
"I can pay."
In spite of herself, this was making her a little curious. Could he be some eccentric billionaire who wanted to cruise around the world in a private oil tanker? Was it some kind of publicity stunt? *Could* he actually pay? If this was legit, there might be a serious promotion in her near future. The odds were against it, to be sure, but it never hurt to dream. She began to rip open the envelope.
"Well, I'll have to refer you to my supervisor for a deal like this, but in the meantime, let's discuss your ability to pay. Can I get a statement from your bank?"
"No bank."
She almost sighed. So much for her promotion. Just a crazy old man after all. He probably saw a movie about a cargo ship, decided that he wanted one, and tottered out of the retirement home to go and pick one up as if it was a gallon of milk from the corner store. No choice but to humor him until her supervisor got back from the bathroom to back her up.
"Ah, I see. So you'll be paying in cash then?"
This time, he smiled. There was no mistaking it.
"Something like that."
She finished opening the envelope. Inside was a photo of something that looked like a pile of dirt, but when she looked closer, she saw that it was...
"I can pay," he repeated, as the woman stared at the photo in disbelief. "When can you have my boat delivered?"
It took her a moment to collect herself.
"Oh...soon, very soon! I just need to consult with my supervisor. Sir...not that it's any of my business, but may I ask why you need such a large ship?"
"My old boat is too small." He cleared his throat impatiently and asked again, "when can you have it delivered?"
"Well, that depends on a lot of things, sir. Will you be needing it soon?"
He glanced back at the waiting room TV. It was still tuned to the news. The same headlines that had covered the screen for the last three weeks. *Chinese delegation leaves Camp David after peace talks collapse. Fighter jets report AA fire from PLA Naval vessels in the Taiwan Strait. US calls up reserve troops, declares DEFCON 2.*
"Yes."
**Edit:** Thanks for the gold!
| The trolley of shopping carts rolled onward, unchecked, smashing into the side of the BMW in the parking lot. The cart boy gazed on, unable to look away from the sudden presence of this towering cloaked figure. Withered nearly to bone, shambling slowly toward the grocery store. His body fumed of eons of decay, dragging behind him a great hemp sack that jingled and tinkled with a great load of metal.
He seemed to appear out of nowhere, mere minutes after the car accident down the street. To the boy's knowledge it had been a nasty one, a couple Irish fellows he'd seen in the beer aisle a few times before had finally paid their ultimate due. Police and cleanup crews were still scraping remains off the pavement.
"...S... Sir?" He asked, trembling in his neon vest.
The hood turned to face him, but the cowl shadowed the ancient features beneath it. The voice was a bedraggled whisper, something that clawed the strength out of men's legs.
"You needn't worry... Cliff."
He nearly asked how he knew his name, before glancing down to his shining nametag. He'd never felt so powerless.
"The... uh, the store can't make change for this much, um, change. Company policy. You might, I don't know, take it to a bank? Or a CoinStar machine?"
"No." Said the figure, undaunted.
Cliff watched in morbid fascination as the figure drudged on, approaching the doors finally. Coins had spilled out from slits and holes in the sack, leaving a mysterious trail to nowhere behind him. He stooped down to pick one up, realizing the coin was no mere copper or silver, its yellow glint and stony weight rested coldly in his palm. It wasn't even American, let alone baring digits or denominations he could recognize. Some were slathered in crusty red gunk.
But as the figure approached the doors he stopped, the automatic frames held open for no one in particular. He turned, stepping toward the garden aisle, but passed it the same. Finally, the figure came to his destination. Blazing gold and red paint adorned this children's attraction, rusted from years of abuse. The figure carefully, and painfully, straddled onto this 'Rocket Ride' toy, finally settling into its seat, gripping its handlebars. With a shaking hand it fed a single coin into the slot. The ride jolted at first, then began to rock back and forth, vibrating, mocking the sounds of rocket engines and laser blasts as it churned through the motions it had done a million times before.
Cliff approached as the machine wound down, only to be fed another coin and gear back into motion.
"Are you an insane person?"
Charon looked upon him and smiled broadly.
"No. I'm a spaceman." | 2014-10-30T00:08:09 | 2014-10-29T20:42:49 | 43 | 15 |
[WP] Investigating some smoke rising from your lawn, you discover that the ants below have entered the Bronze Age. | I rubbed my eyes, hoping what I was seeing was a dream. Nope. The smoke was still drifting up from one of the small ant holes. Never had this happened before. Rubbing my eyes once again, I got up from squatting and sat down on the porch to think. What was it? Some sort of chemical reaction? Maybe a cracked pipeline?
I stayed like this for quite a long time, until finally, I decided that enough was enough. I would investigate the smoke that was billowing up from the many ant holes that dotted my front lawn. Grabbing my shovel, I impaled the earth near an ant hole.
And found something amazing.
There, under my own front lawn, was a large, earthen chamber. I peered closer and saw five or six ants using some sort of primitive stone hammer pounding on pebbles. Fishing out a magnifying glass from my seemingly deep closet, I found that they were hammering bits of... was it... some kind of metal? Tin? Digging up more earth, I found that another chamber held some sort of fire! Now I was really intrigued. Some ants were using wood chips to lower bits of metal into the fire, while even more poured the liquid metal into stone bowls, which were then taken away into the metal room. Scanning the Bronze Age colony I had found, I discovered an armory, where some warrior ants were fitting on tin helmets, a deep hole with ants holding bronze pickaxes chipping away at the sides, and what seemed to be a throne, with plastic mock gems fitted into the dirt chair. Before I could investigate closer, though, a hornet from a hornet nest hanging from the nearby oak tree landed onto the newly exposed armory.
And before my very eyes, one warrior ant takes out a chunk of a plastic bag and wraps it around the hornet. Just when I thought this colony couldn't get even more insane, the warrior ants, fitted with helmets and bronze shields, bring out TIN SWORDS and begin hacking away at the hornet, which by now is thrashing around, trying to escape. After a few minutes of seeing the hornet being mercilessly being slaughtered, the bag piece finally goes limp. Staring in disbelief, I looked up and spotted a swarm of hornets heading directly to the exposed ant colony.
The warrior ants fell back to reveal a line of other ants standing on their two hind legs. At first, I was confused to what they were doing, but then one of them pulls out a simple bow fashioned from spider silk and a bent aluminum foil slice. More of them follow suit, and then what seemed to be the leader archer nocks a tin-tipped wood arrow and fires.
A rain of tin arrows fall onto the hornet swarm. Most of them miss, but some arrows find their target, causing the hornets to fall lifelessly onto the ground. By then, I wasn't even surprised at all. Thinking I had seen too much, I just shook my head and walked back into my home.
EDIT: Thank you generous random person for the silver! | I'm going to give you all an advice today, but before that, I'm going to talk to you about my ants.
Ants. Tiny brainless creatures that are as old as dinosaurs, found everywhere on the planet and usually inside my cookie jars.
I've always been fascinated by ants. The fact that they literally don't have a brain and yet form families, preserve food for themselves, communicate with each other using magical chemicals and work for their entire lives is something I probably won't be able to say about myself.
Last year, I found out that my ants are special. No, really.
I noticed smoke rising from my lawn, and at first, I just thought it was Chad smoking weed again. "Go smoke weed in your own lawn!" I yelled, making my best annoyed neighbor voice.
But the smoke didn't stop. I went out there and saw the ants circling around and putting tiny pieces of metal into the fire. It didn't seem like much at first, so I ignored it. As the days went by, I noticed them making tiny bridges and small metal enclosures for themselves.
My ants had discovered the bronze age, and I was more than thrilled. I left them to their own. Over the next few months, I noticed them making small metal pipes.
They kept making these metal pipes for over a year, until yesterday, I realized exactly what they were making.
My ants want you to know that ants are the superior species. There are quadrillions of them, while there are only billions of us. If they wanted to, they could bring us all down in a second. They have told me that they are just waiting for the right time to do it.
I am not typing this out on my own will. Do you remember those pipes that my ants spent a year making? They have made a medieval kind of pistol with which they are holding me hostage. So, take my advice now, before it is too late.
If you see your ants discovering their own Bronze Age in your house or backyard, RUN.
\-------------------------
r/abhisek | 2020-03-17T10:47:44 | 2020-03-17T10:32:27 | 123 | 40 |
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors. | *The biggest pain in the ass in the galaxy is the damn gates.
I say this as a gate physicist. I was there when we built the first ones, and just five years later the experiments closed down and we all figured out "that's that, nothing else to do here." It turns out there are only so many ways you can tweak spacetime before it, to simplify, gets pissed off. One way is to emit EM through a region of stabilized bubble-space. You'd think being able to transit information would be cheaper than matter, right?
In terms of gate physics, you'd be wrong. You do that, it doesn't work, you do too much of that, the bubble stabilizers (what you call a gate) explode and you get a nifty little shockwave through spacetime that the universe chooses to interpret as a gravitational wave. That's what happened to Jupiter. Damn shame, that. Just one gas giant funneled into a short-lived singularity and no one wants to do physics anymore.
So now I'm a fucking courier. I mean, you really can't transit a hyperlane without an advanced degree in gate physics, but those of us who really fucked up at Jupiter get this shit job, and I fucked up the worst of everyone. I was the goddamned lead. We get to fly out from Sol and ping pong around the universe on three month shifts just doing data dumps. All of those shiny-new colony worlds need their infodumps and uploads. The bigger ones have got material passing through, so the data delivery is regular and piggybacked, just like whatever else they receive. Me though? Data only. Half the time I don't even get to put down at the colony, just orbit near whatever ass-end of nowhere rock they put the gate near. They're still afraid of the damn things.
Give us three years and an out-of-the-way system with a decent gravity well and we'll iron out the kinks enough that you'll have a damn gate in your bedroom that leads to your office, or hell, at least an intercolony equivalent of the Earth net.*
Robert scanned his rant and clicked 'Send.' That clown doing the 'Where are they now' story of people involved in the Jupiter Incident wouldn't print a word, but it left him feeling better. He nudged his pod into the final approach for the New Arab Emirates gate. He liked the NAE. It was a money-talks sort of place, but it was also comfortable and the air smelled good.
"Hey there Intrepid, you doing okay?" he asked the pod.
"Looking forward to getting serviced after we touch down, actually. Those techs at Dubai station really know what they're doing" the Intrepid replied, with a genderless voice.
"Any reason to look forward to service?" Robert asked, tapping his way through the diagnostics interface in front of him, "hey you didn't tell me about that."
"Sorry," the pod replied, "just that same minor variance in thrust on number three, nothing to worry about. Ganymede Memorial just sucks a thruster maintenance."
"Still, probably should have let me know before now. Damn man, you act like this isn't a precision enterprise."
"You're right, but you do like to worry," the pod sounded concerned, "prepping for transit in ten seconds on the mark alert."
The gate-lockdown klaxon sounded and the blast shutters dropped across the viewscreen as a visual countdown began on the panel. At zero, a vague feeling of unease passed over Robert. "Uh, hey, that was a little weird," he said.
"So hey, you remember that thruster variance?"
"You're shitting me."
"I lack an anus, but if I did I probably would be dropping a brick through it."
The shutter raised and outside of the viewscreen was a view of what was obviously a black hole, accretion disk and all. More concerning, was what looked like a cross between a spacecraft and a sea creature at a scale that Robert had never seen before just off the port bow.
"It's hailing us," Intrepid said. "I can't make it out though, seems like some kinda cross between English, Chinese and Tagalog."
"Can't you process all of those?"
"Not like this...but hey...does something about the universal constant being useful as a galactic clock mean anything to you?"
"Yeah, a paper I wrote as an undergrad covered that, why?"
"If this math is right, then...well you should check."
A series of complex equations appeared on the viewscreen.
"Wait, that can't be right, that would put us at...what...a million years?"
"Looks like. Hey, I've been chatting with their computer, nice chap by the way, I think I can translate real time now, you want to open a channel Bob?" Intrepid asked.
"Yeah, let's get this over with." | They found him in the Aquartis Conglomerate. Their oozing stalks perked up as they saw the derelict ship on their plascreen. There was noise coming from the things, but it was clear to anyone listening that they were communicating.
They knew that this patch of the Transmat Network was damaged, and had been for a long time; at least fifteen galactic Aeon Units. They attempted to hail the ship using the Neuranet, but to no avail.
They were chittering amogst themselves when they saw abn ancient holdover blinking at the screen of one of the officers. The aliens pushed a button, and the hail appeared on the plascreen.
"Hello?" a thickly accented voice came through. On the screen, a dark-skinned woman appeared, dyed red hair in a tight ponytail and whipcord muscle showing through the clothing. The Neuranet was frantically searching the databanks on the Net to translate from the heavily-accented English.
"Can you guys hear me? I am the only survivor of the Omicron Persiei Incident. We didn't get there in time, and had to evacuate through the early Transmatter network, but our interstellar clock was knocked offline, as was our power. We're nearing the end of the backups, and only have an hour before our LS systems go offline.
"We need help here. Please respond."
There was frantic communication across the bridge of the starhip *Ghnk m'Klse*, a Nova-class starship by Galactic standards - primitive, but with everything needed to defend itself in low-end combat. The one in the centre turned to the plascreen, clearly indicating that the Neuranet was to interpret and translate its collection of grunts, squeaks and sighs.
"Good day to you, Fleshling. WE can assist you in this matter." There was a pause, as the Neuranet flashed up a Red alert on the Captain's personal HUDscreen. The Omicron Persiei Incident had taken place a *long* time ago - so much that it was basically a footnote in the greater history of the Galaxies. There was a moment of silence, and then the captain hushed the bridge compeltely.
"You are the Prophesied One, the Legacy and the Future. Speak your name, Human." The screen flickered, as the transmission over the radio frequency, almost extinct in this age, was compensated. "I am coming to you now, and my engineers will aid you in your endeavor, Prophesied One."
She sighed in relief. She hadn't noticed the four corpses strapped into the other seats, but the captain *definitely* had. She nodded. "Okay, I'll send you our docking codes now. Be advised - our entry was hot, and I don't know about the rest of the crew." She looked around, gasped in horror, and unstrapped herself out of the chair with the twin-stick navigation system.
A single tear fell from her left eye. She turned around, the tear tracking its way down her cheek. "My name is Ororo !XDidi. I await your team. Ororo out."
The plascreen went back to the view of the ship from the outside. there was frantic communication on the ship before a hacking, coughing roar stopped all discussion. The captain pointed to three members, and spoke in a fierce vocalisation. The four people left the bridge of the ship, and three of the aliens sent back communiques to HQ. The news was momentous.
The Prophesied One had arrived. The Primus Race had returned....*for now.* | 2018-01-22T11:04:11 | 2018-01-22T10:26:25 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] An Empath species recoils when it first encounters you, falling to the floor and curling up. Later, through a phone,it asks how you live with the pain. | "How do I stand it? It's simple this is my Normal I'm perfectly healthy"
" simple? normal? Health? Six of our ended themselves after understanding you. Your sensation sent the remaining witnesses to medical"
I looked at the phone I was talking through, it being the only way we have been able to communicate since the incident, still not fully understanding what happened. The Collective, the name we came up for the first species humanity ever came in contact with, said that the second they witnessed me they could feel my pain and that it was so strong that it drove some to madness. The higher-ups told me they were an empath race so what I felt they would as well. The thing was I fine, my medical reads on my suit were all normal and the slightly lower gravity of the station made me feel superhuman.
"Ok let's try a different angle what is pain" I figured maybe the translation software had a glitch and if we could figure out the translation problem we would be sooner to finding an answer.
"Pain sensation of hurt to comprehend discomfort. I witnessed the record you exist in much pain how do you maintain"
"What do you mean by maintain"
"To continue to exist"
"My will to live?"
"Yes, your reason to maintain"
It hit me it wasn't physical "for others that's how"
"The collective?"
"Yes I'm alive because others would hurt if I wasn't"
"But you hurt dose the collective not see it? The collective not witness your pain"
"They see but don't feel it. My sadness doesn't matter if I live their pain is less if I die their pain is more and I can't do that to them."
"For the collective that is not you? The pain could end you gain not for suffering. We gain from others we are a collective but your kind is not collective so why?"
"Because kindness is not a selfish act. I care for others because I do not want anyone to experience what I go through. I have always had this pain it is called depression. So how do I stand it it's simple this is my normal and I don't want my normal to become anyone else's. | When I saw her she was beautiful, so stunningly gorgeous, I probably looked like a fish. She had told me her name in the online chat group we had met in, she called herself Claire, she said her real name wasn’t possible to communicate in her language.
I saw the moment she noticed me. She started to smile but as I drew closer leaning on my cane she started to grimace then scream. She turned and fled and I wept. I couldn’t stay so I returned home to my lonely place. I slipped my cane into its usual spot and sat in my favourite chair. The phone rang suddenly as I answered I realised it was her number. “Claire?”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. You are in so much pain I couldn’t stay near you.” I pondered this for a moment before answering. “Oh my arthritis?”
“No, not the physical, the emotional. How do you live? The grief is tearing you apart.” She started to cry. “How?” She said between the sobs. I answered the only way I knew how.
“He wanted me too.” | 2021-01-14T20:00:38 | 2021-01-14T17:40:49 | 21 | 15 |
[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." | I wake to my phone buzzing on the night stand. I look at the clock next to it. The green numbers shine brightly: 3:14 AM.
'What the hell?' I think to myself. 'Why is anyone texting me at 3 in the morning?'
Before I can take a look, it starts buzzing again. And again. It won't stop. I grab the phone and mute it quickly but the notifications continue to pop up silently. "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." They're texts coming from my mother, my friends, my siblings, even some numbers I don't recognize.
An unfamiliar alarm blares on my phone. A new notification pops up on my phone, titled US Government Emergency Alert. It reads "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON."
'This is weird,' I think to myself, 'What the hell could be wrong with the moon?'
I walk to my window. I carefully open the curtains halfway so the moon is still covered. The sight is incredible.
Almost all of my neighbors are standing outside, phone in hand. They're staring upward in the direction of the moon. They're walking around talking to each other, pointing to the sky.
'I gotta see what the hell is going on.'
I walk outside and jog over next door, carefully keeping my eyes lowered. My neighbour is standing by his door. I'm about to call out to him when he interrupts me.
"Hey! Have you seen the moon tonight?" he asks.
"Listen man, something weird is going on. It's 3 in the morning, why are you outside right now? Why is half the neighbourhood outside?" I reply.
"You haven't looked yet, have you?" he laughs.
"Did you just ignore everything I said? Why are you outside? What's wrong with the moon?"
Without warning, my neighbor rushes up to me and places a hand on each side of my head. He violently turns my head toward the sky. "Just look!"
Oh. OH. I get it now. This is... incredible. It's impossible. There's no way this can be happening. It's... I don't even know. I have to tell someone about this.
I take out my phone and draft a message, addressed to everyone on my contact list. I slowly tap in the words "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
| I wake up. It's still dark.
Some dogs howl while others bark.
I get up, go to pee.
Get back to bed, ready to be-
-sleeping for the next few hours.
For I can't stay awake, I have no power.
But then my phone rings, Ah a notification.
I try to cover my ears, alas, my realization.
A ping. Another ping. And a hundred ping more.
So many pings, I can no longer ignore.
I get up, hold my phone, ready to kill the messenger.
But up comes a warning of the impending danger.
"DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON" a text, I have receieved.
Just to find the others say that I have been decieved.
"It's a beautiful night, look outside", or so they plead.
In all this infusion of danger and confusion, I decide to concead-
To my lady known as slumber for your nonsense can wait.
It's 3 A.M you know, who messages so late?
I hear your stories conspiring
thinking dread yet admiring.
And while I still find some funny.
I for one switch off my phone,
again just me, I am alone,
my bed,my only company.
Good night.
Sleep tight.
Don't let the bed bugs bite.
| 2022-08-07T14:17:42 | 2018-04-06T20:24:10 | 712 | 11 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid. | Benjamin awoke to that post deep sleep feeling of not knowing where he was. His eyes still closed he tried to remember what day it was, or where he’d been last. Nothing felt familiar and he was afraid to open his eyes, not knowing what he’d see if he did.
Sleep was banished from his mind as an audible chirp sounded and a disembodied computer voice greeted him, “Welcome back Benjamin, please relax while systems continue to boot up and your memories return to you.”
“My memories return to me?” Benjamin thought. He tried to open his eyes but found he couldn’t, or he can’t, or… did he have eyes to open? “What the fuck?” Benjamin thought as his mind began to reel.
Where was he? He tried moving, sitting up, tried to force himself to wake up, but nothing worked, he could only think and experience the darkness of his mind. Visions flashed in front of him, thoughts, memories, feelings, colors, but darkness always returned. Maybe he was half asleep, dreaming, not fully awake.
But then it hit him, and suddenly everything made sense. Something came online and Benjamin’s full consciousness flooded back into his mind, like coming out of a fog. He was fully hisself again. And Benjamin was the last human consciousness left in the universe.
Orbiting aboard a stealth satellite, observing the Earth, Benjamin had watched as the last human being had died and nature reclaimed all of humanity’s ruins. For centuries he had indulged in watching what became of the Earth, plant and animal species, the climate and humanity’s creations after the last living person was truly gone.
But even with a 24/7 live nature documentary and the vast library of human entertainment at his disposal Benjamin grew bored after a couple of millennia. No one to talk to, only memories to indulge in for even the slightest hint of socialization, and having your consciousness exist in a fully digitized form that made you both super intelligent and immortal, tends to make it difficult to not recognize the signs of mental degradation as they appear. He was still fully human after all; that was the point of his existence.
Benjamin was never meant to exist alone, but to observe, record, and chronolog human history as it unfolded. It was his own idea as he had an insatiable desire for knowledge since he was a child. Benjamin always wanted to know everything. Growing up he read a book a night. He had read the entire Bible by the time he was 10. And as humans made incredible advances in computing and artificial intelligence in his middle age Benjamin began to formulate an idea about how he could continue to accumulate knowledge and benefit humanity for thousands of years, maybe millions, possibly till the end of the universe itself.
Almost 100 years later, thanks to life extension technology and further technological advances Project Methuselah was green lit and Benjamin hisself was selected as the perfect candidate to become humanity’s immortal chronicler. His primary consciousness would be stored on an orbital satellite with the most advanced computing technology and AI integration available at the time. Advance biological printers made it possible for Benjamin to create avatars for hisself, biological bodies his consciousness could inhabit to interact with people on Earth any time he chose.
But not long after he had transferred his consciousness and permanently taken residence in his eternal digital habit things went horribly wrong for the human race. Benjamin watched and chronicled events up until the last of the homo sapiens went extinct.
Eventually, out of boredom and loneliness, yet still yearning to know how things would ultimately turn out for Earth, and the Universe, Benjamin laid plains to put hisself into hibernation and only be awakened if a communication signal was received by his satellite home, from either Earth or some other source.
As realization of his present status and memories of who he was and why he was here returned to Benjamin he began to frantically check his systems for just such a communication signal. “There you are!” Benjamin thought. It had indeed come from Earth. A radio signal!
But how long had it been? He had gone into hibernation thousands of years after humanity had ceased to exist. Surely it would take millions of years for another intelligent species to evolve on Earth, if ever.
Benjamin had his systems check the Earth, the stars, the Sun, to try and determine how many years he’d been in slumber. One glance at the Earth itself told him that this was no longer the Earth he knew, that he’d ever known. Instead of seven continents spanning the globe only a single supercontinent displayed on his current visualization of his home planet.
200 million years. It had to have been at least that long for another supercontinent to form on the Earth according to the best science of his time. Novopangea the scientists of his time had called it. Benjamin’s mind reeled with the possibilities. What a time to be alive!
Humans had existed for only a couple million years. Species of dinosaurs had existed for over 100 million years. 200 million years was enough time to completely change whatever species now dominated the planet Earth.
There was only one way to find out, check the radio signal he had received and begin observing the current inhabitants of the only planet in the universe known to harbor life. Perhaps in time he could risk sending drones for a closer look, and depending on what he found out about the creators of the radio signal, maybe he could craft a new biological body in their image and go down and see them for himself. He had time, he had all the time in the world. | You wouldn't understand.
The species stares at me.
They load my craft.
They worship me as their savior and God, for being able to resolve their problems and having the longest existence any of them have seen.
I taught them their rudimentary tongue, their mathematics, their culture is a reflection of my character. It really is odd to think so little of these, my would be children, but I am spoiled by my pursuits. I have seen too many great ages come and go to stick around for the rise of these little ones.
My thoughts return to what I once knew. Before, when there had been many of my kind, millions upon millions, we had melded together in spirit in re-union. It was glorious to feel the crowning achievement of our species descend upon us and draw out our innermost being. It was better than drugs. I hadn't had my fix in so long.
After my species died out I had felt empty, cold, something vital was missing.
I stared hungrily at the star far away. Most had been disappearing one by one. Until this last one remained, as a beacon of all that I once knew. I could feel it in my soul.
It was speaking to me. Always. To the point that I began to neglect my little ones. They would be well without me it seemed. Their beginning was now, and as for me...this was my end. I could see it. I wondered what had happened to all of my own. Where had they gone? That star called, with a song that intensified the more I stared at it. I simply had to be there.
I had been planning my departure for quite a while. I left behind many clues for my little ones to advance. But I was no longer thinking of them. I had done my part. It was time for me to join my species. I tilted my head up once again. The last star was calling.
It would be a few days more. It was nothing more than a feeling, but I knew it well enough from my time with my own. The star called. Calling for my utter destruction. Making sweet promises. We are together. We are a home. Reunite.
I walked to my spaceship. It was quite possibly the most harebrained idea I'd had as of yet, but having seen it all, I had a zeal to attempt the new.
You'd consider me a madman, I thought as I was nearing the docking bay.
I didn't know of any man that would desire such an end. To enter into the remaining black holes and cease to exist. My atoms were to be dissolved as I was to be stretched upon the underlying fabric of the universe itself.
I didn't fear death, it had been unable to claim me. Always there had been one purpose after another. In this sense I finally understood. My final moments were the culmination of my species' knowledge, being transferred to the new keepers. And once my purpose fulfilled, the stars began to disappear. I simply knew, this last star, it was the final opportunity. The final call. It was looking dimmer already. I didn't know why, but I was pleased for this. Long had my instinct been dormant, however I could feel it. Time was approaching.
I strapped myself in, took one final look at the star and waited. Waited. Weighted...there!
I punched the beacon and made a mad dash to the moon at a million miles a minute. A slight tug to the left, the black hole was at the right, but no mind, instinct, tricky, dormant for so long. My adrenaline was kicking. I felt alive. God what joy it was to feel anew!
I kept speeding. My sensor instruments warned that a wormhole would manifest within the next seconds in my immediate trajectory. I didn't waiver. It simply felt right. That sense I had missed for all of my remaining life. I saw the speed, measured my time, and let myself through.
Joy! Unfettered and brimming from my every pore. Distended, distressed, reformed. There was a spectacular sight before me, a million and more, all welcoming...my ship had jumped across the farthest reaches to make it home! As I felt my life work and fulfillment, I saw we were leaving already, a new adventure awaited! Then I knew no more. | 2021-05-14T19:45:53 | 2021-05-14T18:24:28 | 82 | 42 |
[WP] Murder is legal, but you have to pay for it.
I was watching the hilarious sketch of Louis C.K [ "If murder was legal"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQUr2RkjykU) and thought about what you guys could come up with this. | They're always in red envelopes.
Ever since the program began, red has taken on a new meaning. Crimson slips of paper being sorted and delivered by the same people who have given you the mail your entire life. I tell myself they're just doing their job, but without a return address it seems difficult to not to blame the messenger.
You can appeal of course. The Administration of Lawful Execution maintains office hours from 8-4:30, six days a week, two hundred and fifty business days a year. It's rare for them to withdraw the claim of course, sometimes its to late, but most everyone tries.
I found myself rubbing my thumb over the sealed flap of the envelope, debating whether or not to open it. Not that I didn't know what it said, but maybe if I didn't open it it wouldn't be official. I knew it was. I peeled back the flap and pulled out a manila card that sat snugly in the envelope as if a machine had carved it out specifically for that purpose.
*Mr. Vanherchein,*
*This letter is to notify you that the terms of your life as a citizen of the United States of America have been purchased by an anonymous vendor. Beginning on February 7, 2014 and ending on February 9, 2014, no investigation will be made in the result of your death.*
*You may, of course, defend yourself in the event you are attacked, though a preemptive strike is forbidden. If you feel that your attacker has assaulted you in a manner that compromises your quality of life, please place a ticket through the Administration of Lawful Execution website.*
*Peter Barry
The Administration of Lawful Execution*
A shame they don't tell you how much someone paid for your life, I'd be open to starting a bidding war.
I opened my phone to double check the date. February 5th, two days until I could be killed. I thought about calling my mom, say my goodbyes. I haven't heard of many people who got away from this sort of thing. Instead, I scrambled to defend myself.
Neighbors, friends, strangers, I asked everyone if they had a gun I could borrow.
"No reason," I said, "just interested."
No one had one, not one they were willing to give out anyways. I suspect some of them knew, and it was illegal to help someone who had been marked.
I bought mace and put it on my bedside table. I brought food and water to my room and, step by step, destroyed the staircase so no one could easily get up to me.
"Two days," I thought "I can survive for two days."
I didn't sleep the first night. I kept myself awake with an alternating dose of dunking my head in the cold water and espresso shots. I didn't hear a thing.
I spent the eighth barricading my door. Not a sound. I fell asleep around noon and woke up panicking, I grabbed the mace and sprayed it at nothing. I had to lean out the window to stop my eyes from burning. Once my eyes adjust, I noticed the moon.
I ran to check my clock.
12:03.
It was the ninth, I was safe. I fell back against the wall and took a deep breath.
"I'm safe." I said to myself, this time out loud.
Destruction to my house aside, I was alive, and some chump wasted money trying to kill me. Maybe he waited outside and decided it wasn't worth it.
I went back to sleep, this time peacefully, and woke up, got ready for work, and got in my car.
"Thank God." I said, straightening my tie in the rear view mirror. I felt more alive than I had in years, lucky to be alive.
"Vanherchein, have a nice little vacation?" My boss had been waiting at my cubicle when I came in.
"No, I..."
"Because while you were playing hooky, we had a meeting with Atlanta."
Fuck.
The Atlanta meeting. It had been yesterday while I was holed up in my room. I had been working on the cover report for that meeting for months.
"Sir I wasn't skipping work I was..."
"Doesn't matter. Sit down and get to work. We're promoting Atherson, lucky she happened to be here to cover your ass."
He walked away, leaving me standing bewildered next to my cubicle. Behind the cubicle wall, a tuft of brown hair and make-up rose, smiled at me, winked, and slunk back behind the wall. | I pay for his life in gold coin and receive a token stamped with the Don's insignia. It's too heavy to flick, made of some dull metal that won't shine however much I rub it. I drill a hole in the top and thread through it a leather cord and hang it round my neck. When I kill him I will hang it around his. Now people move out of my way in the street. There's no way of knowing whose life I've paid for, so there's an added incentive in not pissing me off. The bronze disk radiates power. Kinda nice to have on, but I've paid for it for a reason and that reason wasn't so that I could look more impressive.
So I meet him for lunch and watch his face pale and eyes widen with glee. He knows. I know. Now it's just a matter of waiting. He pours me wine with hands that shake and eyes that never leave my face. I drink his wine and eat his food and lasciviously smirk at his sister and his wife. I like this power. I've paid for his life, but until I take it I can fuck with him in whatever way I want.
"Hey, Cortesia! Get over here!" His pretty little sister is about fifteen. She's small and neat and thin, with tiny little breasts and a pinched little face that I bet can make dimple if I try hard enough. I spread my legs and lean back in my chair. "Sit on my lap, there's a darling."
He flinches, but cannot say anything. His life is paid for. Everything he has, right now, belongs to me. His poor sister throws a worried glance at her brother, but he looks aside and a deep red flush of rage spreads across his forehead.
She perches like a bird on my knee and I pull her into me. She screams so prettily when I rip her dress off.
"No, don't cover yourself up." I smack her hands away as she tries desperately to cover her naked breasts. "And don't cry either." I pinch her cheeks as her bottom lip wobbles.
She throws another look at her brother, but no help will come from there. I have paid for his life, and I wear the proof on my chest.
"You're such a pretty girl, Cortesia." I run my hands through her hair as she tries desperately not to cry. "I had a sister once, too. She was prettier than you."
He makes a choking sound, but I don't care. I have paid for his life.
"But someone murdered my pretty little sister. They broke her heart and she pined away in her room. She would not eat, she would not sleep. She became a skeleton without a soul and then she died." He hadn't paid the life-price for her, and he hadn't shot her or stabbed her or strangled her, but he'd murdered her all the same. "Do you know who that was Cortesia?"
She shakes her pretty little blonde head. I push her off my lap and stand up.
"Your brother. Your dear, wonderful brother."
He begins to cry.
"Please... please," he whispers.
"You should learn from your sister. She has not cried, nor begged. You repulse me."
One action. I push my knife into his chest and he gasps. Cortesia begins to scream. I take the medal from my chest and hang it around his neck.
I paid for his life and now I have taken it. | 2014-01-29T13:05:12 | 2014-01-29T11:44:52 | 32 | 14 |
[WP] As a joke, you start a cult online, creating a blog of your "visions" from God/your made up gods/whatever. However, things start to get out of hand as your following grows larger and larger. | I chuckle to myself as I post the first entry into the Edopsian Visions blog. According to the blog description, the Edopsian religion is a polytheistic religion that worships 2 separate sets of Gods. Some people worship Edops and his kingdom, and some worship Kell and her realm. A few people worship both.
I've posted that Shamania, daughter of Erops and patron Goddess of Earth, approached me and asked for me to try to bring peace between Kell and Edops, at least for the humans. This obviously didn't happen, but hey, it's all a joke.
I post about how Edops, the Creator of Free Will and King of the Divine Kingdom created humans as an experiment for what would happen if no Gods entwined themselves in Humanity. Shamania took it upon herself to make sure we don't completely destroy ourselves. The Goddess Kell, however, opposed the idea of a society with no real Gods, so she attempted to force the Gods of her realm onto the Earth. She sent her son Ankase to create deserts and her daughter Korrastia to create the north and south poles.
Shamania realized that this much discord would be bad for the humans, so she stopped Ankase and Korrastia from making themselves known. Edops banished every God not under his rule from Earth. But, as the millennia passed, Shamania realized that people needed Gods. She asked be to make the people learn of the Gods so that Edops would allow the Earth to become a place for the Edopsian Kingdom and the Kella realm to work together and cease their fighting.
Again, this is all pure fiction.
When I check the blog the next morning, there are a few messages in my inbox. I read the first one.
"Wow, a Goddess talked to you? Man, Lucky!" I assume he's being sarcastic and delete the message. However, after reading the rest of the messages, I realize that people actually believe this.
So I create a post saying that the God Hewtoo is whispering thoughts in my head of spreading the religion. So I ask my readers to tell their friends about this religion.
Throughout the next few days, I make up more stories about the Gods slowly shaping the universe to what it is now. By the end of the week, my religion has over 2,000 followers.
Corrupted by the amount of control I have, I slowly order my followers to do stranger and stranger things, such as refusing to do homework on Tuesday because "that was the day Edops created the world". I gained even more followers after that.
2 months later, I have over 500,000 followers around the world. I've made people ditch the last day of school every month, paint their doors blue, and do 5 push ups before or after each meal. Since my religion is mostly centered around America, I can pretty much control the presidential election.
At the five month mark, Christianity decided that I was a threat, and damn everyone who believes in it to Hell. I counter by saying that according to my religion, everyone goes to Rosep, our paradise, regardless of whether or not they believe.
Even. More. Followers.
1 year later, I am the leader of the third most dominant religion in the world, right after Christianity and Islam. I keep close watch over my followers, making sure people know that extremist Edopsians are isolated from true Edopsians, who believe but do not impose. I tell my followers of the true paradise of people who believe but don't impose. I almost wish it was true myself.
2 years later, I break through the barrier. Edops has the most followers of all. My blog has become the holy book, and I can control over 1 billion with mere keystrokes. Most of the conflicts of the world have been resolved in my religion, and its all a lie.
The only thing that fixed the world was a bored 15 year old at a computer. I'm doomed to live my life never telling anyone this, slowly being eaten by this terrible fact that no one else will ever know. | I sat in a dim lit interrogation room as a burly man in a white button down shirt with a police badge and gun holster stared at me.
“Look,” I began to frantically explain. “It started as joke. I didn’t think people would take it seriously.”
“You think this funny?” the man asked. “Because I’m not laughing. You have blood on your hands and unless you start talking, I’m going to lose my patience.”
“Alright, alright,” I surrendered. “It started a year ago when I began a blog about seeing visions from a god named Culuth from the planet Leyr. He told me I acted as his messiah, the one to bring his message to earth so that it could be primed for his arrival.”
“Message of chaos?” the officer asked.
“Yeah,” I began. “It was supposed to be this idea that the entire world and all the cosmos are in a constant state of chaos. The planets and stars in the universe are no more than marbles bouncing off one another in a meaningless vacuum; however, chaos can be used to strengthen man. When a plague comes and kills off the weak and elderly, only the strong remain and thrive.”
I felt this man’s gaze fall heavy upon my shoulders.
“It was supposed to be satirical, you know?” I defended. “It makes fun of all sorts of philosophy and religious extremism.”
“Your followers didn’t seem to catch the satire.” The officer stated curtly.
“No,” I conceded. “I should have caught it. A few months in, the message boards crowded with stories that I never told, but became canon regardless. Stuff like Culuth was chaos incarnate and if anyone followed in his footsteps, he would grant them immortality. Soon, a few users became more and more extreme.
“My satirical religion grew life of its own. As their messiah, I tried to gently chide them into more moderate views, but they rejected me. I was no longer their prophet; they only followed Culuth.
“That’s when the fires started. Those extreme users encouraged others to spread chaos and strengthen mankind in the name of their god. Picture of apartment fires poured into the message boards with various users claiming responsibility.
“I tried to stop them, I really did. But in their eyes, a once founder became an enemy of their religion.”
The man slowly and deliberately set a series of photographs on the table between us. I had seen them before on the message boards, but my stomach still churned. How a human could do that to another is a question which shall always evade my mind.
“This is on your hands.” He spoke. “I’m placing you under arrest for speech inciting religious violence.”
“No!” I pleaded. “It’s not my fault. You can’t arrest Jesus of the crimes crusaders committed and you can’t arrest Muhammad of the actions of terrorists. How can you arrest me?”
As he read my Miranda Rights, two officers filed into the room and dragged me out in handcuffs as the images from those photos scared my mind with guilt. Nobody could be the same after that. | 2014-12-15T14:53:38 | 2014-12-15T13:35:36 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] At the Age of Ten, some special individuals, are granted special powers by the Ancient Greek Gods. As the Clock strikes twelve on your Birthday, Heavenly Light strikes you. You have been Chosen. Unfortunately, it's by Aristaois:The God of Beekeeping and Cheese. | It was the night of my tenth birthday, and like every child, I sat, alone in my room, staring at the moon as hung in the sky, eyes bright and hopeful.
Despite my parents warnings and counsels, I was convinced that I would be chosen as an emissary to the Gods. "Antonia," my father said to me that night as he led me to my room, "Try not to get your hopes up, my little one. The Gods rarely give their gifts to such as poor as us, even when they deem mortals worthy of their powers at all." I remember still the soft, yet firm way he patted my cheek as he turned to leave my room. "It's not so bad, my sweet child, being a field worker's daughter, you know," he laughed as he called over his shoulder. "At least you know that mother Gaea cares for us!"
Still, I waited, and I watched, eyes glancing from place to place, hoping to see some sign of divine recognition. Was that wave on the shore shining a little more brightly, a sign from Poseidon's favor? Or perhaps those clouds, which hung a little thicker than normal over the mountains, the gathering of Zeus' might?
I was so preoccupied watching the heavens, the waves, and the earth, that I don't remember noticing the little bee that landed on my windowsill until it brushed my arm. While I'm not sure what I said, I know I smiled at the tiny insect. I had always loved bees, their round little bodies and buzzing noises happy companions as I worked the loom with my sisters. They always seemed so lively and energetic, their songs keeping them going as they flew from flower to flower. I was so distracted by my little bee friend that I nearly fell out the window as an old and warm voice spoke up behind me. "Truly one of my best creations, the bee, am I correct, my child?"
As I recovered from my shock, I turned around slowly, afraid to see the stranger who had snuck into my room. There before me stood a smaller man, completely ordinary, save for his portly belly and soft glow that radiated off him like a metal in a fire. "Antonia," he spoke, his voice soft yet echoing, "I am so glad to see that you waited up for me to come."
With some degree of stuttering in my voice, I quickly dropped to my knees and asked which god I was addressing. I remembered the priestesses speaking of the gods coming to men in strange guises to prove them, so I dared not make any assumptions. "Ah, my dearest daughter," the man said, softly chuckling. "Do you not already know? It is I, Aristaois."
Being a ten year old, I could not help, even in the circumstances, to raise and eyebrow. “Aristaois?” I asked. “The God of Bees?”
"Yes, child, the God of bees. Father of honey, cheese, olive and shepherd. I have come, little Antonia, to claim you as my own, and to bequeath to you my powers and blessings. Take them, and thrive under my eye."
And without another word, he had vanished.
I looked at myself, trying to see if I felt any different. No surge of energy. No awesome new powers. I couldn't even make cheese appear! I remember so well then the tears. I had been visited by a god, and he had decided to play a joke on me.
It was not till many years later that I truly appreciated the powers that were given me. As I grew, I found that the bees seemed to always produce more honey on the days I visited the beekeeper's fields. The goats produced more milk when I would fill the jugs in the morning. When I came of age, my betrothed managed to find a wild herd that seemed to wander straight into our arms. Again and again, Aristaois's gift quietly found me in a better place than before.
And with it all, the sweet song of bees, humming gently in the distance.
​
This is my first time writing for a prompt, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!
Edit: grammar | Elijah ponder about the situation he'd been left it. On one hand he wsst one of the chosen few, literally a one in 10 million odds. However what the prophecies had never educated him about the blessing was how many minor gods resided in Greece.
Elijah's temper rose as he mused to himself " Blessed by the God of Beekeeping and Cheese ?? Being blessed by Dionysus would've been better, atleast that way I'd be the life of the party ! Why would the scholars of Greece fanaticize about the blessing anyway ?! One is more likely to be blessed by a minor god rather than the major one probability wise speaking. Maybe being a commoner would've been better than being blessed of stinging bees and moulding cheese !"
At this point Aristaois had had enough of the young lad's tantrums. He finally channeled god speak to communicate with Elijah so as the other commoners around him couldn't hear Aristaois speak
Aristaois : " You really think I am a useless god eh child ?"
Elijah : " What ? Who's that talking ? Are hallucinations also a part of my eternal `blessing` that I've received ?"
Aristaois : " It is I Aristaois, your god protector. Be humbled that you've been chosen by someone so prestigious as opposed to that drunk Dionysus or apathetic Aphrodite !"
Elijah : " Yeah. Absolutely. Cause being a beekeeper is way cooler than being the life of a party or a sex symbol"
Aristaois : " By Zeus, I really lucked out in the electoral lottery by getting ye didn't I ??
"
Elijah : " I just don't understand. Megs has elemental control over small lightning charges. And I get what again ??"
Aristaois : " You feeble minded human. You honestly think zapping people is a better mastery than beekeeping and cheese ? Not only are you vain but an idiot too"
Elijah : " Oh yeah, well it's better than being a grumpy ol"
Aristaois : " SILENCE CHILD. Do ye know who's responsible for running the world ? It's the bees who help in pollination. Best organic sweetner ? Bees again. Capable of driving out anyone ? Swarm of bees. Bees are the ruler of the world. They used to call me Ah Muzen Cab in Mayan culture"
Elijah : " Shocking people sounds cooler to be honest"
Aristaois : " As cool as being able to sting them to death ? Or perhaps cause the entire population of an area to die out by ensuring bees stopped working for a while ? You have my blessings already. Look past the phoney god hierarchy and start thinking how to use your abilities to their best. I'll contact you after a few years to see how you're doing."
Elijah now understood some things. Perhaps being blessed wasn't as bad as he had imagined. The limits of what he could do was limited by what he could think. As Elijah went to make lunch he wondered what should he make. Just then he smiled as he understood how cheese fit into the grand scheme of life. "Perfect, for lunch I shall make omelette du fromage" | 2020-11-14T20:14:57 | 2020-11-14T19:40:58 | 123 | 12 |
[WP] An aging veteran gets dragged to a paintball facility by his grandkids. Another elderly man is there with his grandkids. The two quickly realize they’ve faced off on the battlefield before. | "I remember a time when paintball was reserved for drunken stag parties and corporate bonding days, before the great recession of 2022."
"Yeah Grandad, you've told me before" - with a roll of the eyes... Good thing he'll be on my team I think to myself.
"Well, now it's the national game! Even became an Olympic event in the 2030's! Everyone had to work harder to get us back on our feet. Video games were disbanded... Everyone ploughed themselves into growing their own veg to keep the family fed or for trade. Working hard to build up the economy. Physical activities became the norm so everyone could blow off steam. No time to waste on frivulous computers."
"Look Grandad, it's starting, better pay attention" - That's me told, little shit. Too much like his damn father but I bite my lip and keep quiet. He'll appreciate me one day, probably when I'm gone.
The attendant is running through the rules, but we all know them. I played twice times a week until I was in my 40's. Though something catches my eye, one guy in the opposite team is wearing his own fatigues (not entirely uncommon, I have my own somewhere though theyre a bit tight fitting now) and on his chest is a name I recognise. A name that's haunted me for years...
It's him... I can't quite believe it. What are the chances?! And he's still using the same moniker, what a colossal asshole. I can hear him talking to the other players, that nasal voice. It's HIM!!!!
After all these years I'll have my chance for revenge. I still remember how he escaped, ran off when he knew he was beaten. Utter Coward... but this time I'M going to have the last word!
The teams seperate off into the battleground, and with the great roar of the klaxon we're off! My grandson runs straight off, abondoning the old "dead weight" that I clearly am... Good, I'll be better off without him to give me away. My enemy is a good 10 years younger than me, I'll need to be quiet to get the upper hand.
I prowl round the outside of the battleground, slowly moving deeper into enemy territory. I remember his style... He'll be camped up at the back with a good view of the middle ground. I've played here before and know the perfect spot, the bushes on the hilltop to the south.
It takes me a while but I loop round, right enough I can see his legs sticking out of the bush. He's set up in the snipers nest. Slowly now I inch forward until I'm about 10 feet from him.
***SNAP***
I look down at my foot and there's a branch under my boot. "SHIT!" - I hear him cry, the bushes rustling as he tries to prise the paintball gun from under him.
**PHUT PHUT PHUT**
I fire the three shots off, each one hitting its target, torso and arms.
"What the *FUCK* dude?!" he cries. Inside I'm screaming with joy!!!! Now's my chance!
"Fucked my mother did you xX360noscopegangstaXx?! Well, now I've fucked you! HAHAHAHA"
God I miss my PS4. | The facility smelled of old paint and of sweaty teenager. As Eugine put on his body armor and picked up his paintball gun he had a rather realistic flashback: He had been back in the war zone of Japan. As he looks around you know you see your in the middle of a battle, and he sees the enemy, a group of Japanese fighters, and as he aims at one, his comrade leaps on top of him and guards him from an enemy sniper.
As the shot goes off Eugine is brought back to reality and he realizes that only about 30 seconds has gone by, The dog tag he wears around his neck seems warm, and his grand kids, Bob and Joey are waiting for him. As he enters the battle zone, he can see the Asian family on the other side. They're very similar in that its just an old geezer and his two grandkids.
The shoot off begins, Eugine goes to the middle of the arena, copying his opponent of similar age. As he attempts advance, so does Eugine, and as he aims at his opponent It hits him like a semi truck. The man he was aiming at had been the same Japanese soldier he had almost killed in battle. Eugine drops his weapon and slowly approaches his opponent.
As he reaches his opponent, who has dropped his weapon in confusion, he just reaches his hand out, and shakes the mans hand. His name is Miyata Harumi. Once Eugine had explained, Miyata was left speechless, all he could do was give a bow. After that paintball battle, they got dinner, Eugine and Miyata, and they spoke of their hardships, of the good that had happened since, and that fateful day. How, if Eugine had merely pulled his trigger, so many lived would have inadvertently been effected. In the end, they were both happy to be alive, and they we happy to have a newfound friend.
Hi guys, its josh here, this is my first ever post on reddit. I am an 18 YO college student at university of central FL and and im just now getting into creative writing. I've been lurking this subreddit for about a month, I have found a newfound love for writing and i plan to minor in it, hell i might even make it my major. I would really appreciate any criticism for my writing here, i want to get better at writing.
Thanks in advance
-Josh | 2016-09-07T01:53:29 | 2016-09-06T21:31:31 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] Aliens don't invade earth for our resources. After a civilization achieves utopia some of it's citizens get bored and fly off to other planets to enjoy primitive thrills like violence, drugs, money and fame. | **Welcome to SLZ08**
*Note: Please do not be alarmed by the sound of the gunshot. It is nothing more than our way of welcoming you.*
This announcement message has been created in order to help you familiarise yourself with our planet and its culture. After all, you've been frozen for over three hundred years whilst your ship travelled through the stars -- it's quite reasonable that something might have slipped your mind! Added to that, one or two things have changed since you began your journey.
Our history is long and proud, but as a brief reminder of how it all began: Joseph Gallows left Earth with his family to create a terraformed, semi-anarchist paradise. Minimal laws, maximum pleasure. You likely chose SLZ08 as your destination of choice because of our approach to recreational drug usage.
You might recall that we were part of the Seven Pleasure Planets, the most popular tourist resorts for those bored of life in Earth's natural, humdrum, solar system. On SLZ08, there was no regulating what you did to your body, only recommendations and easy to access supplies (at a great price!). We believed in stimulation, not simulation. Whether you were after drugs to enhance your mental facilities, your reactions (we were galaxy renowned for the extremely high level of competitors within our bloodsport events), or drugs to simply experience a different experience, we were the destination of choice (voted number one stimulation destination two centuries in a row).
Unfortunately, that is no longer the case.
SLZ08 was bought out not long after Joseph's last blood-linear ancestor died -- twelve years after your shuttle would have left Earth. When the passion that was running this planet died, so did the tourism. Of course, there was no way to communicate this to you, or to your fellow passengers, and due to the limited fuel that you were carrying, and the velocity you had reached, it was neither possible to stop or to intercept you.
Sorry.
We have a large sample of others like you, who have already landed and been through this exact scenario. As such, we know with near certainty that you are experiencing a mixture of fear and disbelief. Is it a trick? Is it a lie or a joke? It just has to be!
Unfortunately, it is not. But hold onto those emotions as they will soon serve you well. Especially the former.
As you also might recall, SLZ08 was also extremely popular with big-game hunters, due to our leniency on genetically modifying animal species. Not only did we create a real challenge for veterans (our patented hybrid-apex predators were especially infamous), but our scenarios often posed up to a fifty-fifty chance of success/death. This naturally appealed to both big-game hunters and to the real thrill seekers. It was they who eventually pooled their resources, creating a conglomerate with the capital to be able to purchase the planet.
Since then, and with the aid of the new advertising campaigns they brought into effect, the planet has successfully been re-branded. Only hunters and thrill seekers come here out of choice, these days. The other ninety-three percent of arrivals are a mix between people like yourself -- drug tourists with unfortunate timing -- and criminals who have been sold to the conglomerate by the other Pleasure Planets (even pleasure needs purging occasionally).
Here, both criminals and drug tourists have exactly the same rights.
That is to say, *none*.
We know that we don't need to explain, at this point, that animal life (worth hunting) on the planet is all but extinct. And we realise too, that we do not need to spell out the implication of that for you.
You will shortly hear a second gun shot.
There.
Did you hear it?
That was *not* to welcome you. That was to communicate a message to you:
*Start running.*
**Thank you for reading. We hope you have enjoyed this brief introduction to our history and current culture. Good luck out there!**
| By now, most people know better than to believe that aliens actually look like the big-headed, green-skinned, two-fingered, autotuned-"*I come in peace"*- sounding beings commonly displayed in cartoons and various shows.
Almost as many people are logical enough to realize that, if an alien species were to attempt to blend in with our species, they would have to camouflage themselves as humans.
And they have. In fact, what few people know, is that alien species' (yes, more than one) have invaded our planet so fully that it is statistically likely that you have encountered at least ten aliens in your lifetime by the time you reach the age of 21.
You'll never know they're aliens. They'll never tell you, and there are only two tell-tale signs. The first is that they cannot produce children with humans. (However, don't go running around pointing your fingers at every impotent person you know, screaming, "Alien!") The second is that they don't die. They age (because that's how good their disguise is), and they'll even appear to die - no breathing, heart stopped, etc. - but that's just when they're tired of human existence and wish to return back to their own planets. Their buddies will dig them up that same day, and refill the plot so efficiently, no one will be none the wiser.
As you were asking yourself, *How does this writer know all this?*, you've probably guessed that I am alien. You would have guessed correctly. Now, you maybe wondering next, *Why is this alien telling me all this, and exposing the secrets of his species and counterparts?* And my reply is:
A) Because there is nothing knowing all of this information could do for you. At all. You will never, EVER get an alien to reveal their true identity. Ever.
B) I just wanted to write it down, knowing most people wouldn't believe me anyway. They'll probably think this is all just a story written in response to a writing prompt.
C) A and B.
Also, most aliens aren't here for your resources. In fact, if an alien is on your planet, by default, they come from a civilization that has achieved utopia already. Earth is a rarity in that it is the only planet in the entirety of the universe that has no chance, whatsoever, of achieving a utopia. (I have read your religious texts, and in one it says your God will destroy your Earth and replace it with a new one, in the next lifetime. If that is so, I cannot wait. You poor creatures need it.) But what you lack in perfection, you make up for in primative thrills like violence, drugs, money and fame.
And we enjoy those things immensely, from time to time. So thank you. | 2018-11-23T04:37:16 | 2018-11-23T04:34:48 | 1,413 | 318 |
[WP] In order to get a shot at going to Valhalla, you must die with a weapon in your hands. You just died and are now sitting in front of Odin's advisory board as they discuss whether a spatula actually counts. | Odin leaned forward in his gilded throne, his single eye judging the young man who stood before him.
"What do you make of this, mortal?" Odin asked looking to his left and right, down the line of gods.
Thor scoffed, "This pathetic creature is no warrior! Look at his frail limbs and tiny body. How many frost giants have you slain?"
"Uh, none," the young man stammered out.
"How many of your foes have you deceived in order to turn the tide of war?" Loki asked behind steepled fingers.
"I don't really like lying," the young man answered.
"And what of that weapon in your hand? How many lives has that taken? How many trophies have you carved from the bodies of the fallen?"
"Well it doesn't really do any of that."
"Does it have any mystical properties? Perhaps it returns when you throw it?" Thor asked caressing his hammer.
The young man shook his head no.
"Then why are you here? What can you possibly do to earn your place here among the greatest heroes of all time?"
The young man thought for a moment and hefted the metal spatula.
"It does have a power. Something that very few things can possess," he paused and met the eyes of the gods sitting in front of him.
"It has the power to slay hunger!" he roared and thrust the spatula into the air.
Odin slammed his hands down on the table, thunder tore through the chamber shaking the young man violently. A small smile spread across his lips and his chest began to heave. Laughter bubbled up from inside of Odin and he found himself gripping his sides trying to contain his laughter. He wiped away a lone tear that streaked down his wrinkled cheek.
"Ah, my boy. It has been too long since I have laughed like that. It brings me great pleasure," he paused stifling another bout of laughter, "To banish you to Hel."
The floor beneath the young man's feet vanished sending him plummeting through darkness to Hel waiting below.
---
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
| As the mind fades and the soul exits he can fill something pulling him in. First it was darkness then. Drunken ramblings and yelling?
“Mortal” a voice as rough as stone but as calm as wind echoes into his ear.
“ you stand before Odin chieftain God of the Asgardians. You have died well in battle taking many with you and..... is that a spatula?
“It is oh great one”
“How can such a warrior be worthy to rise into Asgard with such a weapon as his instrument?”
“Oh great Odin it is quite simple really. A great warrior fights with a sword or axe a brilliant warrior is able to fight with anything”
“Indeed. tell me how many did you take down?”
“12”
“You killed 12 people with a spatula?”
“Yes”
Odin looks into the shadows and sees a gruff man with a dog by his side
“Brutal. Alright you’re in”
Around Odin his council looks onwards “what about our word”
Odin turns his head towards them “ he killed 12 people with a fucking spatula. I don’t need your council with this one” | 2022-04-10T19:23:46 | 2018-03-26T13:09:30 | 393 | 17 |
[WP] When people die they can choose whether they go to Heaven or Hell, you are the first in 1000 years to choose Hell. | Lucas was floating in a starry void. Above him, a vortex of light swirled like the sun while below a whirlpool of darkness churned, gradually tugging at him like a current. Somehow, without words, Lucas knew that to go up was Heaven, and to go down was Hell. So he waited to be pulled into one of the options. After several minutes (he assumed minutes...it was hard to tell time in this place) he remained in the same spot, with neither a drift in either direction. Yet again wordless understanding came to him: Choose. They don't prepare you for that.
He pondered his life, the good deeds and the bad. Overall he was relatively neutral, every minor good deed seemed balanced by an equally minor misdeed. Lucas wasn't even religious. From what he could recall, Heaven seemed like the obvious choice. Divine bliss, the perfect afterlife, unending peace, etc. How could anyone want more than that? With a though he began to drift upward toward the spiral of light. But then a thought struck him, causing him to pause mid ascent. If he got to choose, it would stand that others get to choose too.
On top of that, who was to say Heaven would be solo like this in-between place? What if Heaven held all the people that chose to go there as well? He could meet a lot of amazing people (assuming they were up there). But then, as is the case of intellectually inclined people, Lucas saw the downside to such a Heaven. IF people could choose where to go, then he would be stuck for all eternity with Moriah.
Moriah was, hands down, the most annoying human being Lucas had ever met. It wasn't her political beliefs, religion, or personal morals (Lucas didn't care if a person was liberal or conservative, and it doesn't matter to clarify what side of the spectrum Moriah was). No, it was her insistence to try and force others to agree with her when they did not. It made friend dinners and parties uncomfortable. They say "let's agree to disagree", but this phrase did not compute with Moriah. She would harass you all evening until you either agreed with her, or left. It was her way or the highway.
There was no way in Hell (pun intended) that when she eventually died she wouldn’t choose Heaven. There is no way someone that self-righteous wouldn't. And, assuming that Heaven was a group place, if Lucas chose to ascend he would spend eternity with the one person that actually made him happy to no longer be on Earth.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. The eternal fires of Hell could not compare to that fate. With a resigned determination, Lucas drifted downward into the void.
He landed in what looked like a hotel lobby. Everything was in shades of black and grey, with splashes of red. Despite previous representations, the temperature was quite cool.
"Welcome to Hell", said a masculine, yet entrancing voice behind him.
Lucas turned to look into the eyes of one of the most attractive men he had ever seen. He was heterosexual, but secure enough to admit it. The "man" looked back at him and smiled, a perfect set of white teeth that seemed to radiate their own soft light.
"Uh, are you Satan?", asked Lucas apprehensively.
"I prefer Lucifer," said the Devil. "Not sure where Satan came from, but it's always been Lucifer".
"Uh...ok.." said Lucas, looking around the cathedral sized lobby. "So, Lucifer, are you here to give me my eternal punishment?"
Lucifer let out a sigh. One of those exasperated sighs you get from someone who has had to answer the same question at least a million times before.
"That is bad PR," said Lucifer. "Hell isn't a place of torment. It's a place about freedom and choice. It's why I got the boot from the big man upstairs. It's also why you happen to be the first person to arrive in a millennia. Speaking of, may I ask what made you choose Hell?"
Lucas took a moment to consider the reply. He guessed at this point there was no reason in lying and acting like a martyr.
"Well, I thought that if I got to choose, others could too. And if that is true, that means I would have to spend eternity with..."
"With a person who is so annoying you were actually happy to be dead?" finished Lucifer.
Lucas looked up at him with an expression of mingled curiosity and amusement.
"Uh yeah, how did you know?"
"That's the only reason anyone chooses Hell," said Lucifer. "It worked out pretty well though, everyone here is pretty chill. You like movies? We were just about to start Infinity War."
The corners of Lucas' mouth twitched.
"Hell yeah!" he exclaimed. "Oh wait, am I allowed to say that?"
"Fuck yeah you are!" exclaimed Lucifer. "C'mon, let's get you some popcorn and coke."
"Oh, do you have Pepsi?" Lucas asked. "I've never been a coke guy".
"Unfortunately no, this place isn't perfect," replied Lucifer. "That and the surcharge they wanted for distributing is ridiculous. We do have Surge though."
Lucas smiled. He was going to like it here very much. | I held my head up high as I stared down the black, rusty gates, refusing to entertain the thought of turning around and strolling through the inviting, pristine white gate to eternal bliss.
I lifted my chin, refusing to show signs of weakness. I should be the living, or, dead now, i guess, embodiment of confidence. Fake it till you make it, as they say.
The gate to Hell slowly creaked open, and the only thing you could see beyond it was darkness. I stepped forward, and could feel a foreboding gust of wind brush across the empty plain.
“Why, hello there, my mysterious guest. What makes you decide to be... well, one of the first to choose my wonderful kingdom in... what is it... 600, 700 years! Right? No wait... could it be 1,000? No, that can’t be right. I mean—”
“I have no intention to be rude, but can we get on with it? I’m ready to go to eternal torture or whatever the hell it is.” I inturupted.
The fearsome figure, who, I assume, is the Devil himself, giggled, “‘Whatever the hell it is,’ Now that’s humor.” He continued laughing to himself, as I stood there, mystified. This was the Devil? The demon who was supposed to be eternally torturing me? I’m the first person here in... well, he wasn’t clear on how long it’s been, but at least 600 years! You think he’d be excited that he finally has another victim. Instead he’s giggling about me saying “hell” in Hell.
I suppose he could see me growing impatient. “What, you’re so excited to be tortured, you just want to get on with it? Is conversing with me really that horrible? If so, then truly, you should pity my assistants existance. I mean, they’re the only people I’ve talked to in 1,000 or so years!”
I glared at him, and i guess he noticed my extreme frustration, because he then asked me why I was ‘visiting’ him.
“Shouldn’t you know this? Given you are the ‘King of Hell’ and all that jazz?”
“Well you see, the past thousand years with no people in my kingdom has been like a vacation. No people to worry about, no people’s happiness to obsess over. I was free. That’s why i agreed to the deal in the first place, people get to choose where they go, and since so many people are going to,” he giggled again, “choose ‘Heaven”, I’d get a little break.”
Now I was suspicious, “Why did you say it like that?”
His eyes widened, “Say what like what? What are you talking about? I didnt say anything, I... I... I... I’m lying. I knew no matter how hard I practiced I would give it away. Fricking Lucifer was right. She’s not going to let me forget this for at least a millenium ‘haha remember when you couldn’t even lie to a human for fiteen minutes haha’. Ugh.”
Now I was confused, and he must have seen it on my face.
“I’m not the devil,” he said slowly, as if I was stupid. “It was all a lie... I’m *not* Lucifer... my sister is.”
“No need to be so patronizing, i grumbled.
He continued, “we made a deal, because too many humans were pretending to be good and it was just to much work deciding who was good and bad, and poor Lucif was barely getting any actually bad people, so we decided people would get to choose, but we’d make it look like Hell was Heaven and vise versa. Get it?”
I nodded slowly, trying to comprehend what had just been said, “So I’m...”
The Dev- no wait, God? And angel? I settled on Good Dude. Good Dude nodded and finished my sentence, “In heaven. Your own personal paradise.” He smiled kindly.
I was feeling a strange sense of euphoria. I was soon going to live out the rest of my afterlife in eternal happiness, and yet i could think of nothing to say to Good Dude except...
“Thanks, my Dude.” | 2018-08-13T10:50:13 | 2018-08-13T10:35:47 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] You're 5 years old, when you discovered that your brain can automatically learn "everything" about anything or anyone you touch. So you keep it a secret. | On my fifth birthday, it happened. As I hugged my mom, I suddenly realized I could talk. Not just simple words, but full complex sentences, in two different languages. Not just that, but I could read, do math and all sorts of other things.
I also gained enough common sense to know that this was not normal for a 5-year-old. I didn't know what had happened, but I decided to keep it a secret for the time being.
Trying my best to emulate the speech level of the 5-year-old I was, I managed to utter "I love you mommy!" while my mind was still reeling from my sudden wealth of knowledge and skills.
When I then tried hugging my dad, too, the same thing happened. It was a little less intense, of course, because I already knew a lot of what I learned in that touch. But still, my math skills improved, because apparently my dad was better at math than my mom.
I quickly realized that that was what was happening. Somehow, touching my parents made me instantly absorb all of their knowledge and skills. Well, the mental part, anyway. I still had a child's body.
‐---------------------------------------
The lightest touch was enough. That's what I found out at school. We were playing tag during the break, and I was "it". When I finally caught someone, I felt that surge of knowledge again, though this time it was only some classroom gossip that I had apparently missed.
Still, if I played my cards right, I could learn everything. I could become a multi-talented genius the likes of which the world has never seen.
A ladybug landed on my finger. And suddenly I knew what aphids tasted like.
Apparently, it worked on animals too.
‐----------------------------------------
A few weeks went by without me gaining much knowledge. What can I say, a five-year-old doesn't get to meet many people. We did visit my grandparents, and I learned quite a bit from them and their many years of experience, but after that things calmed down a bit. I couldn't learn anything from my classmates anymore, and apart from knowing how to teach, my teacher didn't teach me much of anything either. But then I remembered the president was going to visit my school today.
As I stood face to face with the man who ruled the nation, I summoned up all the courage I could muster to ask him that one crucial question.
"Mr. President, may I shake your hand?" | The problem, as is so often the case, was one of scope. We had thought up this fun little gift, thought up some fun ways it could be used to benefit the universe, and let Fate know how to play with this new game piece. Then fired it off.
The power manifested and...the kid died.
You see, he would learn about whatever he came into contact with. It turned on and he learned everything about what he was touching. *Everything*. Clothing, air, his Grandfather’s pocket watch (the intended first target), but...it didn’t stop there. The power drilled down. He learned about the molecules that made up the things he felt, the atoms that made up those, the subatomic particles that made up those, the hidden things that make those work, and then...well, Danny the intern calls it “The Knowledge Bounce”.
The kid now understood the fundamentals of the universe and the mysterious rules that make it work, and as a result....he realised that all of everything is just part of the universe and so touching a watch was really no different than touching a distant star.
He learned *everything*.
Tiny little head couldn’t handle it and...pop! We quickly did an undo and tamped that power down a bit. Made him promise not to tell anyone. Yeah, he still remembers that he knew it all. Turns out Omnipotence is hard to scrape out of a head.
Anyways, things are going okay, but we could use more funding. How goes the Speculative Species Department? | 2022-10-21T10:23:55 | 2022-10-21T08:03:44 | 71 | 29 |
[WP] The hottest show in the afterlife for the past decade: Steve Irwin wrangling all sorts of supernatural creatures. | G'day and welcome to the Myth Hunter. Today, I'm going after the stone salamander of Seneca. Oh, looks like we've got one. 'Ere we have the rare basilisk. Crikey, this ones a giant in'it he? Now the thing you've got to remember with basilisks is, if they stare you straight in the eye, yer turned to solid rock. So the best thing to do with these is to wear a blindfold 'round ya head. Now that I've got mine on, I can start to wrangle it.
Whatcha wannado with these critters is get low to the ground while you approach em. Now they're going to- oof, yea- to try and rear up at ya. Once you hear that screech you've got to go in at em. Grab em right- c'mon there ya go- right here, right under the front two legs. Keep your head Low, it'll try and nip ya, but it can't bend its neck far enough.
Shh, shh, calm girl calm. Now we can safely remove the blindfold, as we keep her eyes pointed safely in the sky. Ya can see this ones a girl cause of the crystal 'tween her eyes. Males don't got that 'tween their eyes, just real thick, thick, eyebrow ridges. As a secondary weapon the basilisk has these thick claws, take a look 'ere. Each ones about a quarter inch thick and hard as granite. Teeth too, once bit straight through my sternum. Lucky I'm dead else it've put me out of commission.
Alright, time to let her go now. You've got to put your blindfold back on and toss her back quick. I'm going to push off in 3.....2......1....go go go go, alright c'mon. Looks like shes stopped following now and- wassat? Zoom in over there. Crickey, shes got a little runt with her. Definitely the smallest of her litter, little guy must only be about a foot long. S'allright to look at 'im. Poor lil guy wont open his eyes for 'nother month at least. For now he's sticking close to mommy for protection. The young climb on their mothers back for protection from threats. For the first three months of their lives they're effectively defenseless against predators, specially weasels.
God. That's just absolutely beautiful. Watching mother and son go into the sunset together. Nature's majesty right before us. Thanks all for tuning in, catch me here next week when we go after the elusive jackalope, the mirage of the midwest. G'night! | Now everyone knows that old quote about the most dangerous game being man right? I don't really believe in it for a variety of reasons. It implies that animals can't be as smart if not smarter, that man should not respect anything that is not man. Most of all the quote references hunting, something I only approve of in the most dire of circumstances to improve the overall health of the ecosystem.
Now, that all said and done, the quote comes to mind today because of what we're hunting. The doppelganger, aka. Me, I'm gonna go over to it and see if we can't get it to change into me.
Now, there are several varieties of these things.
You've got the sort that only have one form or at the very least keep one form. These are the subspecies called Mimics, most of em are carnivorous but can last years without a meal and subsist entirely off the moisture in the air.
What we're looking for is called a Ditto.
Harmless for the most part until in panics and struggles around.
Most doppelgangers don't like to show off their default form and try to blend into their surroundings. The Ditto however is happy to socialize in it's pink neutral state and will only transform when threatened..... let's see if we can sneak up on this one and get a closer look, and he's a beauty, a bit smaller then usual but it's relatively unimportant to a creature that can.... Uh oh, he's seen me!
Wait... he's turned into the camera man!
"CRIKEY BRUCE He's even got your camera!" | 2022-11-14T01:22:17 | 2017-12-21T18:31:05 | 5,465 | 32 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | The cavern was *their* place - a haven to retire to when the world became too oppressive; a sanctuary where they could always find one another if life became too much to handle. It was a small chamber at the end of a long, narrow, and winding passage that twisted and contorted upon itself as if it were the remains of some great serpent that the two had stumbled upon during their childhood.
Darkness inside the cavern was never a real concern for them, for its crystalline walls easily reflected and scattered what light that happened to pour in from an opening up above. The entire chamber would take on brilliant hues of blues and greens in the afternoon sun, but the nights with a full moon were the real wonder - the entire room would appear to come alive, shimmering and glistening in the silvery light It was during such nights that they shared their first kiss, that they had their first argument, and that conceived their first born.
Everett wrapped his arms around Isabella, bringing her close to him and gently caressing her belly and the child within. The two lay there, bathing in the moonlight, content with the company of each other and the stars above. As the night wore on, the moon aligned itself in the direct center of the crevasse and flooded the chamber with its light, forming an imperfect "eye" just as it had done dozens of times before. For the first time however, it blinked, and the cave shuddered with a singular heartbeat.
----------
My first WP, y'all! I hope you enjoyed! | Bill and his wife Laura entered the furniture store. They were looking for a closet for their baby's room. After so many months of trying to have a baby again, years after the unfortunate miscarriage, it looked like things were finally working out for them.
An old mahogany closet caught their eye. They inspected it closer, taking in the smell of old wood, and feeling its smoothness. Bill's hand reached for the door and he opened it and then a skeleton popped out. | 2017-05-31T08:04:13 | 2017-05-31T07:24:53 | 40 | 28 |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | The sun was filtering through the open window, August dawn filling the room with the scent of summer. Eve stirred in her sleep, clutching the pillow closer to her chest.
'Angel,' Jack whispered, brushing away one stray lock from her forehead, 'you're dreaming.' He said, watching the first rays of light painting her hair in gold. Two more weeks and she'll become his wife.
Eve stilled, her blue eyes opening slowly.
Jack smiled at her, leaning in.
'Keep that muzzle away from me,' Eve suddenly growled, jumping out of bed.
Jack frowned, watching her rummage through the closed like a tornado.
'David?' Jack quickly sat up, looking at his fiancée tossing all of his clothes on the floor.
'Where's the blue cotton shirt you had?' Eve asked, her soft voice now changed with a strong Boston accent.
'Stop throwing my stuff on the floor!' Jack snapped.
He had never raised his voice at Eve but since every week there was one day when his angel swapped the body with this idiot David, Jack was slowly loosing his mind.
'I can't believe a man of your age still has a band shirt in his closet.' Eve, or to be precise David, said pulling the shirt over his head.
'Deep Purple is not just some band-' Jack was already in his defence mode, but David raised his hand.
'Dude, whatever. I don't care.' David said and stormed out of the room. A few moments later Jack found him in the kitchen.
Eight years ago, when Eve was dating David a love spell went wrong and ever since that moment they started swapping bodies for one day a week. Every week.
'Every damned week,' Jack grumbled, sitting down, grabbing the steaming mug that was waiting for him.
'We're in Italy,' David grumbled.
It was hard for Jack to look at his beautiful fiancée staring daggers at him. It was even harder to keep away from throwing something at this idiot David.
'The first vacation we had since forever and what am I doing?' David kept muttering in his mug. 'I'm spending it with this heavy-metal-loving-couch-potato.'
Jack rolled his eyes. 'Maybe you'd stop being such a little girl if you ate more carbs, buddy.'
David tossed him a black look.
So they sat there, in absolute silence, Jack reading news on his tablet and David staring trough the window.
'I can't believe you still haven't fixed the fence,' David suddenly turned to Jack.
'Nope.' Jack kept swiping through the news.
'And the glass-house doors are still very much unhinged as I can see.'
'Very much.' Jack responded.
'You said you were going to fix them last week.' David said bitterly.
Jack looked up. 'We have twenty two hours more to survive, David,' Jack said, 'save something for later.'
David grabbed his cup, turning to stare through the window again.
After some while even the world ran out of the news and after they watched a game of baseball there was little left to do.
'So,' Jack said turning off the TV, 'have you found anything new?'
'About the spell?' David asked. 'Granny knows some some people.'
Jack laughed. The way David spoke about his grandmother always sounded like she was some hard core gangster.
'She says the spell can be broken but they need to do some more research.'
Jack sighed. He couldn't wait to get rid of him.
It was so strange. This was Eve's nose and her smile and her hands but David's mannerism and that accent instantly turned Jack's beloved to this ridiculously annoying person in his living room. Luckily, his resentment always disappeared the moment Eve was back.
'I think it will be done in a week or so.' David said.
'Oh, finally,' Jack raised his eyes to the heavens, when he heard a little grunt. 'I mean, no offence, but we won't miss each other.' Jack said.
'I know I won't miss your ugly face,' David grinned.
'So,' Jack said, 'what happened with that interview. Did you get the job?'
Dave was suddenly staring at him empty mug.
Jack nodded. 'Oh, so that's why you're so grumpy this morning.'
'I'm not grumpy!' David snapped.
'Easy!' Jack raised his voice. 'If you want my oppinion-'
'Which I don't.'
'I'll tell you that you have a better chance with that project of yours than sitting in a office from nine to five.'
David said nothing.
'It's a good project,' Jack insisted. 'I know at least four farm owners who would go for it.'
David looked up. 'Seriously?'
'Yeah,' Jack nodded, 'I'll call some people and give them your contact.'
'Thanks buddy,' David said. There was a moment of awkward silence. But then again every silence between two of them was awkward. 'Wanna grab something to eat?'
Jack was already on his feet. 'But we're not going to that Asian restaurant again.'
David stood before him with a disappointed look. 'Dude, this might be the last time we saw each other.
Jack wouldn't budge.
'All right,' David said, 'but I'm driving. You're slower than my granny.'
Thanks for reading! If you liked this story, you can find more at r/CrystalElmTales | "Do you, Elsa Nelbie take this man, Patrick Yoosur, to be your lawfully married husband?"
"I do."
"And do you, Patrick Yoo--" The priest paused. He was used to men crying in this day and age, and in truth rather liked seeing the emotion, but Patrick was balling his eyes out. It had been a very sudden change of demeanour, too. "Um, is everything okay, Patrick?"
Patrick took a deep breath. "Is everything okay?" he air-quoted. "Uh, *no* it's not *'okay'*. This should have been *my* wedding!" Patrick glared at Elsa. "That should have been my dress. My veil. My make-up. MY WEDDING!"
"It... is your wedding, Patrick. And if you want to get married in a dress, I'm sure no one will mind." The hapless priest then turned to Elsa who had thrown the veil back over her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Elsa said with a groan. "She wasn't due today. I'm so sorry." Then, to the groom, "You weren't meant to take him today, Veronica."
"Uh, it's a leap year, Elsa. Don't tell me your dumbass boyfriend forgot?" Patrick laughed. "Typical of him to forget something so important. Forgot Valentine's day our first year together." He slapped his own cheek hard and told himself, "That was a long time coming." And then added wryly, "*Unlike you.*"
"Fiance. Not my boyfriend."
"*What*ever."
"Look, I know we don't often see eye to eye... And I'm sorry things didn't work out for you and Patrick... But will you please just say yes so we can get on with this? For Patrick?"
"Hmm, let me think about it." She paused, hmmd, then spat out her answer. "*No*."
"No?!"
"You should thank me. After all, I just saved your skank-ass."
"Saved my ass?"
"*Skank-ass*."
"You just ruined my wedding! You gate-crashed my *husband*."
"You really wanted to be Elsa Yoosur? Jesus, El. You'd sound like a JarJar Binks threat."
"*I* happen to like the prequels."
"*No one* likes the prequels!" said Patrick's body.
Elsa blew her nails, nonchalant. "Better than the Last Jedi."
That drew a gasp from the priest. "Elsa, be reasonable," he said, his old face creased with concern. "That handsome young man, Rian, he was tasked with a very difficult job. Very difficult indeed. And he subverted all our expectations so wonderfully."
"You can't just subvert expectations for the sake of it," Elsa said, red-faced with fury. "It doesn't work that way! There's no long-term reward for the audience."
"Hey, guess what, Elsa," said Patrick, to the horror of the guests, pulling off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm subverting expectations too. Let's see if our audience is rewarded."
There was a collective choir-of-a-gasp from the congregation as the man's pants and underwear flew off, landing on the head of a statue of Mary, and he began wind-milling his way down the aisle. "Youssa likesa my apples, Ma?"
"This is a disaster," said the priest sadly. "An unmitigated, unmatrimonial, utter disaster."
"Still better than the sequels," said Elsa. "Besides, another couple of hours and Patrick would have been doing the same thing anyway,"
"Maybe... maybe this post at least subverted some expectations," mused the priest. "That could be its saving grace."
"Ugh." Elsa rolled her eyes. "That doesn't automatically make it good. As I think this proved."
At that moment, a purple-haired lady came charging in, shoulder-tackling the naked man. "Cover your eyes, Mom!" she screamed.
"Oh good," said Elsa. "The groom's arrived again. Maybe we can get this over with after all."
​
\---
more over on /r/nickofstatic | 2019-12-15T10:07:20 | 2019-12-15T08:44:48 | 2,399 | 1,087 |
[WP] You're a demon. One of your favorite passtimes with your friends is to shapeshift into a young family of three, hire a babysitter, and pay them if they can last an entire night alone with whoever's the supernatural demonic toddler that night. This newest victim of yours, however, isn't phased. | She closed her umbrella, hung her coat, and stepped into the the living room. Our newest babysitter victim, a middle aged handsome woman in very conservative clothing, had no idea what she was getting into. Our demonic game was on, and I expected her to run screaming from the house within the first 15 mins, though I had until midnight to win the game. My cohorts thanked her for coming on such short notice and quickly made thier exit through the front door.
As the door closed, the game began. My first attempt to send the woman screaming was a simple 360 degree head turn. As I sat watching the cartoons on TV, I turned my head all the way around and asked her for some juice. My head continued the same direction until the cartoons came back into view. Fully expecting a scream and a slamming door, I was completely taken a back when she handed me a glass of water and said is was too late for children to have such sugary treats. No sign of fear or confusion on her face. Maybe she didnt see.
For my second attempt, I thought that some basic poltergeist tricks might be more unsettling. As the lights began to flicker and the decorations in the house began to tremble and then float, the sitter walked into the living room and said it was time for bed. Completely oblivious to the lamp floating by her face she took my hand and led me upstairs to the bathroom. I was so bewildered by her lack of reaction that I just stood there while she washed my face and handed me a pair of pajamas to put on. "Let's get ready quickly so we can have a story before bed, then," she chirped in a sing song voice.
I was not about to let this woman beat me, so I knew I had to up my game. Maybe blood pouring down the walls would scare the lady. As she looked through the books on the shelf in my bedroom, I summoned a wall of blood to poor from the ceiling. I was quite impressed with my display. It was as though a hurricane of blood was pouring down inside the small room. But the woman opened her umbrella... which I could have sworn she left by the front door, and continued pursing my small children's library. She pulled a story about a boy and his dog and sat on the chair next to my bed. Blood still pouring down in sheets, the sitter propped her umbrella up behind her chair and began the story.
The womans voice was powerfully calm and she quickly lulled me to sleep. Me. A demon. Just out like a tired child after a long day at the park. I didn't wake up until the I heard the front door open. My eyes flashed to the clock. 11:56pm. My "parents" were home, and I had exactly 4 mins left to get terrify the woman or lose the game. I had a perfect record before tonight, and I wasnt going to let this lady be the end of my reign as the champion terrified of babysitters.
I knew the only thing left to do was to reveal my true nature. As a demon, my horrendous form can bring the bravest of men to their knees with just a glance. I let go of the mortal child form I was holding and let my true self come forth. The wings, the claws, the teath and horns. 11:58. 2 mins left. My hooves pounded as I crashed down the stairs, foaming at the mouth and flexing my imposing bat like wings as I came into the entryway. My demonic cohorts were removing thier coats. I could tell they were pleased the sitter was still here and I might finally lose a round of our little game.
With all the power I could muster I let out a demonic howl and lunged at the woman. Without so much as gasp she stepped just to left and flew past her, slamming into a wall.
"And to think," she said, "you wanted to have some sugar before bed. Now, be a good little demon and hop back up to bed."
My demonic parents looked at me and the the sitter. "You know he is a demon?" My 'Mother' asked.
"Indeed." The sitter smiled. "But I love taking care of all children. He was no trouble at all." She pulled her coat over her shoulders and grabbed her umbrella. "Please, if you need me anytime, just give me a call! And here a a few of my cards in case you know anybody who needs my services."
As the sitter walked out the front door, leaving us all quite flabbergasted, my mother read the card out loud.
"Mary Poppins, Sitter for hire." | No matter how many times I get to be the toddler, it never gets old. I can hear my friends going their fake spiel about all the things I need, some fake emergency number, blah blah blah. I can’t wait to scare the hell out of this kid. Some skinny twelve year old girl. She probably sleeps with a teddy bear and a night light still. She won’t be sleeping tonight. I’m hoping after tonight that she’ll never sleep again.
I hear the TV come on, and I wait until I’m sure she’s settled in. Then I let out a loud shriek, not the kind that a baby makes. No, this is much too sinister. I hear the TV go off and footsteps. It’s show time. I vomit for a minute straight while turning my head in a full circle. Then I take off my diaper, spew shit all over the wall, and draw a pentagram.
The girl lets out a weary sigh. “Well I guess we have to get another bath,” she says picking me up and carrying me to the bathroom.
Wait.. what? No it’s fine. That’s just the appetizer for tonight’s meal of pain and horror anyway. There’s nothing like a bathroom to bring forth the main entree.
I wait and let her run a bath. She’ll love this theatric. The toilet starts to rumble and the water spouts up in the distinct form of a goat’s head. She just reaches over and shuts off the valve.
Seriously? What’s with this girl? Does she spend all her time watching reality shows or something? You know what; it’s fine. I’ve had tough nuts to crack before. That’s why I always save the best for last. I look at the girl and say in a bay voice, “No bed.”
She shrugs, “Okay kid I’ll put you in the playpen for a little while.”
I smile and say in a deep demonic voice, “How about a goodnight kiss instead?”
“No.”
“Come on sweetheart. I can be a way better lover than your uncle.”
“I don’t have an uncle. Sorry, that won’t work.”
“Look bitch! I know that you must be scared! I feed on your fear! I watch you through the shadows at night! I’m the stalker in every dark alley and around every corner!”
She shrugs again, “What can I say? I guess TV and video games desensitized me.”
At that time my friends walk in. They try to cover their obvious surprise to see her fine and unafraid with smiles. “Oh no. I see he’s still up. Did he give you much trouble?”
“No, he was just a little sick. Poor thing. He seems to have a stomach bug. I’ve got him clean, but I haven’t had time to clean his room yet.”
“Oh that’s perfectly fine. Let me give you a little extra for the trouble.”
“Thanks. Let me know if you need me again. He’s a sweet kid.”
“Do you need anything else? A ride or anything like that?”
“Well, there is one thing. You can go back to hell.”
Everyone’s faces change, and we all change into our true forms. “Even if you don’t scare easy, you have no chance fighting the three of us. Who the hell do you even think you are?”
The girl pulls a badge with a cross on it out. “I’m the head demon hunter. I’m head to arrest you so you can’t reek any more havoc on the human realm.” She then pulls out a heavenly gold dust and blows it at us. The last thing I see is her terrifying smile. Then everything goes dark. | 2019-04-09T19:58:17 | 2019-04-09T19:22:34 | 49 | 18 |
[WP] Surprisingly, it turns out humans are one of the least violent sentient species in the galaxy. Describe a session at the galactic equivalent of the UN. | When mankind made first contact with an alien species, we had already taken to the stars for centuries. While interstellar travel was just beyond our grasp, our home solar system had become our home - more so than just Earth. Mars had been terraformed, Venus had colony cities in the skies, even the various moons of Jupiter housed millions of humans. When the Klort finally found our little corner of the universe, it was hard for us to believe THEY were more surprised than we were. Diplomatic relations with them began in the way mankind had always feared alien contact - with war. The Klort attacked with their largest fleet, which at the time we did not know. Three large warships attacked the colony on Titan. Our own forces, though slower, outnumbered them by twenty to one. The battle, though heated, was over within minutes. A month later the Klort sent a single diplomatic ship to contact us again. This time, to our surprise, it was terms of their surrender.
The Klort's unconditional surrender granted humanity two boons that would have taken us centuries to gain otherwise - interstellar travel and a seat on the Galactic Commission. At first we didn't know why the Klort demanded as part of their surrender they become a subservient race to humanity forever. When the Klort officially presented us to the Commission as their conquerer's, there was much heated debate, though not in the form we thought there would be.
At first the Commission tried to void our entry, stating we appeared too soft and weak. Looking at the other species, they were right in that respect. Every other species on the commission had multiple forms of armoring and weapons - claws, shells, acid, things out of a horror story's worst nightmare. It wasn't until the details of our species were being recorded that the entire assemble became silenced. At first there were calls that the Klort were lying, which surprised us even more. As digital recordings were presented, the truth horrified the entire galaxy. Each species on the Commission truly lived by the 'survival of the fittest', not just in politics but within their own societies. Killing their own to rise in status and power was merely a means to an ends, and as such, each species numbered anywhere from a few hundred thousand (such as with the Klort) to a few million for the current dominate species, the Gralt.
Mankind proudly claimed over fifty seven billion living members of its species to the Commission, spread out throughout our home solar system. As the Klort further explained to us afterwards, conflicts between species were only allowed to be met by volunteers of that species in a fight to the death. Those left alive, won. Mankind had just entered the field of a galactic battle and apparently we had stacked the deck. With our standing armies totalling in the hundreds of millions, the combined might of every other species combined wouldn't equal half our numbers on the field of battle. Following our admission, it came as a great surprise as over half of the Commission races petitioned us to accept their surrender. Thus in the matter of one year mankind went from being unknown to controlling over half the galaxy.
Many found it amusing in the later years as we heard other species cracking jokes, quietly of course, when other's began to breed quickly.. they said they were breeding like humans. | Samuel L. Jackson, chosen representative of Earth, massaged his temples. The latest U.S. (United Species) gathering was to address the growing threat of of the Tenchal race and their constant galactic crusades. Lately, they had pushed into Chi' xen territory and slaughtered their colonists. The Chi' xen rep, Luiar, was getting out of hand, even more out of hand than the other reps.
"We should just nuke them! It's not like they're contributing to the galactic economy anyway!" Luiar shouted over the rabble of the other species.
The Taxu rep shot from his seat, "Uh, I don't *think* so! We have a popular documentary running about their wars! People love seeing all that carnage! Have you *seen* the ways they kill each other?"
They had been at it for well over ten minutes, and more reps were being pulled into the argument per minute. Samuel put on his best passive face and tried to contain himself.
Luiar made a rude gesture at the other rep. "Come *on*, no one watches that crap anymore! Everyone likes Chluthian television so much more. Tenchals look like Gthorpian Batricks anyway."
"Your mom looks like a Gthorpian Batrick!"
The assembly erupted. Limbs and teeth flailed about the room as insults were thrown. Some poor soul was launched from the nearest airlock while another was brandished overhead and thrown across the room.
Samuel shot from his seat, "Why don't yall muthafuckas sit the *fuck* down and shut the *fuck* up! Goddamit I have been hearin this shit all day and I am tired as *fuck*."
The assembly fell silent.
"Now, are we gonna vote, or *not*?" Samuel said, glaring at each rep in turn. "So help me god I will..." He let the threat hang in the air.
"Fuck it, we'll nuke 'em." Luiar mumbled.
The vote was one hundred percent; nukes launched immediately.
This is why Samuel was elected rep, nobody fucks with Samuel L. Jackson and Earth. | 2015-03-23T09:34:39 | 2015-03-23T09:31:06 | 204 | 20 |
[WP] You are best friends with Death. Although you don't know this. Every Sunday he has you killed just to talk to you about his week then brings you back to life after. However you never remember the meetings. | "So I'm not allowed to remember anything after this is over?"
"My answer is never going to change. Be grateful your memories come back everytime you see me."
I shrugged and got him a bottle from the fridge. He wedged his boney finger underneath the cap and popped it open. He reached for mine but I had already unscrewed it.
"Twist-top my dude."
He paused and stared at the bottle in my hand. He then took a gulp from his beer. "So how was your week?"
"So...you know that girl at the pet shop?"
"No but you've mentioned her before."
"I asked her out on Tuesday"
"Heyyy thats what im talking about!" His grin was genuine and cheerful.
I took a sip and drummed my fingers against the bottle. "So i went out with her on Wednesday, i took her to the steakhouse."
"That's a nice place, they actually know how to cook their food."
I took a longer sip of beer. "Their steak is delicious. I asked for rare."
"Rare? Thats too much blood."
I laughed. "Oh is that too much for you, Mr. Death?"
"Yea i bet you think that's pretty humerus."
"There's nothing wrong with a grim joke."
"Please, now you're killing *me*." He kept chucking and downed the his beer.
"Aha...we're not funny."
"No we are not."
The distant sound of lawn mowing could be heard through the open window. The neighborhood outside was painted a faint orange as late afternoon set in. It was a beautiful day.
"Well apparently she's vegetarian."
Death nearly choked. "Noooooo. No way. She is not!"
I nodded and took another sip. "She is."
He howled with laughter "Man i am so sorry. You shouldve known that was a risk, she does love animals."
I chuckled and downed the last of my beer. "The look on her face. It was like I had just licked the table."
"Ouch. So no more pet store?"
"Of course. Im going out again with her Monday."
"My boy."
"I'm also getting a cat."
"Well that's better than goldfish." He got up from the recliner and walked into kitchen; I could hear the sound of the fridge being pryed open. "Beer run?"
"Dude *I'm dead*."
"Oh yea sometimes i forget. We'll do a Weekend at Bernie's kind of thing."
"Now THAT was funny."
I wasn't really sure if he was serious, but it sounded fun either way. Death was pretty a pretty chill guy, and it was always fun having him around. You'd think I'd hate the actual dying often part
but in reality I look forward to this all week | I would kill for you, just to see
Your smiling face awoken to the hereafter,
Here and now, in truth, for there is no after
In death, only a long-before,
And once-upon-a-time ago.
You come to me as though you are
Some sunshiny Prince, and I
A dark Lord on my slouching throne,
Where there is no space for you to sit,
But you lie at my feet, like loyalty itself
And say, well, I've always wanted to meet you someday,
And someday is now - well, I suppose it's happened,
So, death, please,
Tell me all about yourself.
What can I say to you about my Kingdom?
It is a place of fire and gemstones,
Rich veins of oil, where living things go to decompose -
To change into their purest form;
Dark fuel for your lighted lives above,
And for me, only a long-abiding,
For all of you to descend to me, to make your slow changes, distilled to your mineral selves -
I am nothing if not a patient lover.
You give your body to me in elements -
Nitrogen for the soil and hydrogen for the stars -
And I think it best that you, bright soul,
are reborn among them,
Like fire, your light for my nights,
Below a moon not mine,
my wine-dark Earth whispering to vines,
Waxing full with the fruit
Of what you give me,
Body, and someday
Soul.
r/eros_bittersweet | 2020-01-31T08:23:34 | 2020-01-31T07:30:48 | 63 | 23 |
[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone. | “Next stop, the inner circle of Hell,” our tour guide angel announced in a cheery voice. I looked at my wife and raised my eyebrows. She took my hand and patted it.
“Probably where you would have ended up if you hadn’t met me,” she whispered.
Our cloud train came to a stop before a large glass window. Beyond the window was a cave, lit by scattered embers and bordered by a river of lava. A large throne dominated the room, and on the throne slouched a young man, slowly swinging his foot while he played a harmonica.
“Here he is,” beamed our guide, “Satan! Once the highest of angles, he betrayed God and was cast down to the deepest dungeon in Hell. He is by far our most popular attraction, though Hitler follows a close second.”
There was a beat of silence, followed by a general rumbling of discontent among our group of Heavenly tourists.
“Doesn’t seem so bad to me,” a large Texan with a white hat commented. “I can see fire and brimstone, but I expected more agony.”
“He just looks bored,” said a gaunt pious man beside him.
“How come he has a harmonica?” asked an old lady. “We were just given harps.”
“They probably gave Hitler a damn piano,” said her friend.
Other comments and complaints piled on till our guide held up her hand.
“Don’t be deceived,” she cautioned. “You are witnessing the most terrible of tortures.”
“What? Sitting on a chair playing a harmonica?” The Texan was outraged. “Sounds more like a timeout than torture.”
“I can’t believe I prayed and fasted my whole life to avoid this,” muttered a monk in a robe next to me.
“Trust me,” said the guide. “You wouldn’t want this. This is the result of a great many punishment trials of hellish punishments, and it is by far the most effective. We tried continuous whirlwinds, winter storms, attacking dogs, massive weights, slime and sludge, fire, boiling blood, petrification, whipping, cess pits, drowning, more fire, freezing, and a host of other things. All of them were considered too easy by those in Heaven. Worse, some of the victims actually seemed to be enjoying their punishment. You see, we are dealing with quite depraved individuals here. We were losing hope of ever finding a suitable punishment for those sent to Hell, when we came across a completely new idea. We just left them alone."
“Just left them alone?” the Texan spluttered.
“Yes. We left them completely and utterly alone. No interactions, no stimulation, no food, no drink, no company, nothing except a single musical instrument to remind them of what they were missing out on.”
“For how long?” asked the old woman.
“For eternity.”
This time, our silence stretched for many long beats. While we watched. Satan let his hand drop to his side. His fingers opened and the harmonica fell to the floor. He let out a huge sigh and stared vacantly at the wall of the cave.
Someone began to cry.
“How did you ever come up with such a cruel punishment?” I asked.
“We didn’t,” said our guide angel. “We copied it from you all. Solitary, isn’t that what you call it?”
| There he was. The devil sat there by himself, legs dangling off of a ledge. He grasped a harmonica in his hands and between his lips, out of which came music that was not as sad as one might expect in such a situation. Rather, it was an utterly beautiful, complex piece that moved me to sadness because it had no audience to hear it other than me alone.
I sat silently and listened through the song in its entirety, completely enchanted by it. When he finished, the man before me lowered the instrument down into his lap and opened his eyes. He scanned my entire being up and down. His pale skin creased and shimmered as a gentle smirk folded from his mouth.
I clapped. I couldn't help myself as it was the most beautiful music I had ever heard, but I also couldn't help myself but feel disturbed in who I just clapped for.
"Thank you."
"No, no," I choked. "Thank you."
"What are you doing here?"
"I, well, I'm dead I suppose."
"Everyone else left."
"I had heard of that."
"Why are you still here?"
His eyes pierced my mind deeper than his question. He had the look of a family member, genuinely concerned about my wellbeing.
"Why are you still here?" I asked him.
He didn't express it anywhere but a shift in his feet, but I took him by surprise.
"If everyone can leave, then you can too can you not? Why would you not go to heaven?"
"Have you ever thought about who the devil is?" he asked me.
"Well - he is sneaky and a liar."
"A deceiver, yes."
"And beastial, I think. Though you don't look..."
"I don't?" he raised his eyebrows intrigued. "Tell that to everyone that left."
"So just a deceiver then. A fallen angel," I finalized my answer.
"Why would a deceiver allow any of his captives to leave?"
"I, well, I suppose he wouldn't be a very good deceiver if he couldn't keep prisoners," I pondered.
He stared at me with those sharp eyes of his, piercing straight to the back of my head. It seemed as if a thousand years raced by as we looked at each other.
"My god-"
"Nice to meet you." | 2017-02-01T10:14:39 | 2017-02-01T09:26:11 | 130 | 74 |
[WP] When someone turns 18, they may use one adjective on themselves boost that part 10 fold. Strong, fast, smart, no one expects your adjective. | "You know," I said, leaning on my friend "I guess I shouldn't have been clever with my request. People go for the classic stuff, strong, clever, attractive, that sorta thing. And here I was, just trying to stand out. Because of course I did. But you knew I would do that, right?"
My friend didn't respond, only stared dead ahead with a blank expression on his face. But I can't blame him, really. It's been 4 years since I picked my word and I told him the story countless times. I'd be bored of it by now. But it changed my way of life so drastically that I could never quite get it out of my head.
"See, most people, they pick something reasonable, like I said, and get on with their life. Sure, they can lift pianos or run track like no one else, but that's just a part of their everyday routine after a while, right? Yeah, I'm right."
I took a sip of my drink. I've been sipping it for an hour and it was still ice cold. A nice perk of my adjective, I suppose.
"I mean I've always been *really* proud of my punctuality. So I thought, hey, wouldn't that be cool? To be the most reliable guy around? Someone you can *truly* count on? I felt it would be a nice niche, not the usual, bored crap."
My friend slowly blinked.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Well, I best be going. I'll come by later. Back before you know it." I chuckled at the remark and left.
​
My friends, who gathered around to watch me pick my word, looked around in utter confusion. I was nowhere to be seen, though a few could still smell my cologne.
"Did he just say '*timely*'?"
It was a rhetorical question, of course. He remembered the word well. After all, I said it only 4 minutes ago. | When we are asked to choose, they never say why, they never tell you the truth until it is too late.
They never know what effect will come from your choice.
They are ignorant of fundamental Truths.
They seek Knowledge. They seek Power.
They lack Wisdom.
They speak into existence the webs of Fate, knowing not that which comes.
We walk the Warp and the Weft, seeking the One.
We watch them as they flail in the darkness.
"Wisdom" brought them folly.
"Knowledge" brought them ignorance.
"Power" brought them pain.
Wealth brought them loneliness
We watch them as they flail in the darkness.
Folly brought Knowledge.
Ignorance brought Shame
Pain brought Hate.
We watch them as they flail in the darkness.
knowledge was useless
shame was the truth
hate was deserved
The watchers never expected this.
Nothing, brought Everything.
After all, who wishes for nothing. | 2022-01-02T01:33:19 | 2022-01-01T23:54:47 | 424 | 138 |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | The 'age of truth' historians were dubbing it. In 2031 a new app was released and became the new big thing. Taking advantage of the constant data stream from Apple's neural implants and the shared cloud of data the new app was able to pick up on subconscious cues and could tell when someone was lying. Privacy laws protected teenagers and kids, but hundreds of politicians and oligarchs suddenly got shunted straight to jail for their backroom dealings and millions of sham relationships collapsed.
And that's where I come in. As a Senator and the husband of an executive of the company that developed the app I knew about the one weakness of the app - it takes three distinct lies to calibrate. I was able to survive the initial purge of politicians by making colleagues exploit this fact, but I had grander plans for my own lies. My plan took years to develop, but I had both the patience and resources. Three lies and my plan would be complete.
"My fellow Americans, today is an historic day. Today we bring truth into the oval office. The government are taking over the running of the Liedetector app. I know some of you are worried about liberty but let me make to you three promises. One, the process will be completely legal; two, nobody will ever be able to alter the results of the app, and finally I will work personally to ensure your freedoms are always maintained."
Three lies was all I needed to get total control. The age of truth was here and my word was law. From this point on my word was The truth. | "Did you kill Anna Kendrick?"
"No."
"Did you kill Bonnie James?"
"No."
"Did you kill Cindy Irish?"
"No."
"Did you kill Diane Hoffman?"
"N..n...yes! Yes, I did it! I killed her! Damn this sudden compulsion to tell the truth!"
Foster turned to the police chief. "Fucking serial killers, chief. They never learn. If they just stopped at three, they could get away with murder."
| 2014-11-15T17:28:43 | 2014-11-15T11:16:31 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare** | That evening marked the end of the first month I had fought these creatures, and in that time I had lost more soldiers than in a sixty-cycle career. I worked special-operations, pitting my small number troops against the best of the best in any in a planet we choose to invade. These losses made me fearful. If one of their warriors could wipe out eight squads by itself, there was no telling what destruction they might bring about once the full assaults began. It was imperative that we speak to this creature and try to find out a bit more about it. This was the historic day that we caught a human alive.
From around the corner Dzoo-Rad, my trusty assistant, scuttled on his five natural legs, with his sixth synthetic one clinking on the ground in a rhythmic fashion. He had left to examine the remains of our troops, and from his expression, I could already tell that we were in a lot of trouble.
“Give me the truth, Dzoo-Rad” I growled “What are we dealing with?”
Dzoo-Rad gulped. He said nothing. The vents on his head widened, and I could see heat waves shimmering from the gaping holes. Dzoo-Rad was venting stress, or fear. Either way, I was shocked. I’d seen the guy loose a leg in a bombing raid and barely stumble as he ran to give medicine to another fallen warrior. Supposed to be disabled, he was one of the toughest spawn-of-a-qkawk I knew. What could have unnerved him so?
“Dzoo-Rad?” I said more gently “I need to know,”
“It’s jokes, sir” Dzoo-Rad finally whispered “Some of the guys heard snatches of the ‘man walks into a bar’ variety, but it seems to be mainly puns, and lots of them,” He stopped, sickened. This I understood. Everyone knew that the use of poor jokes had been outlawed under the 62223rd Articles of Interplanetary Warfare, or at least, everyone I knew. Someone had obviously forgotten to tell the humans.
“Exactly how bad are these jokes?”
“Awful, sir,” he responded seriously “One of them had our troops cringing so hard that Zorl’ak’s guts tried to escape out his ass. They’re still banging around in the airducts, we’re trying to coax them out with treats but it’s not going so well”
I began to pace outside the interview cell. This couldn’t be happening.
“That’s impossible. How did they manage to build a pun generator? We’d have picked up if they were using that kind of power anywhere on the planet’s surface, and that’s to say nothing of the expertise or the kind of population needed to maintain one. Are you telling me that they somehow managed to make a portable pun machine for one of their soldiers to just… To just carry around?”
Dzoo-Rad looked me in the eye. There was something I wasn’t getting.
“Sir… They don’t have that kind of technology. Frankly, I’m surprised they got this far into our space,”
“Then how-“
“IT JUST MAKEs THEM UP, SIR!” Dzoo-Rad screamed “IT LEARNED OUR LANGUAGE AND JUST STARTED TELLING THESE JOKES, OVER AND OVER, AND IT WOULDN’T STOP. IT DOESN’T NEED A MACHINE, IT JUST DOES IT BY ITSELF!”
A biological pun generator. I had seen and read some strange things in my time but this… This was far beyond anything our science-fiction writers could have come up with.
“I see,” I said softly “How safe is it, if I go in there?”
“Not… Not safe, er, sir” he said, fear clear in his eyes “If it decides to tell a joke, you’ll be dead in less than two seconds,”
“Then that’s a risk I’ll just have to take,” I said “Open the doors and cut off all sound from the interview cell. I’ll have no jokes escaping into the outside world,”
Dzoo-Rad looked as though he might argue, but seeing that I was not to be turned aside, he wordlessly handed over his holo-slate and retreated. The air-lock sealed behind me before the second door opened before me. Inside, sitting awkwardly on a chair designed to relax four more legs, sat the human warrior. I first strolled behind him to remove the gag, before taking the seat opposite the human. I looked at the holoslate, and read its name, presumably what our soldiers had heard the other humans call it.
“So…” I read from the slate “D-Dad? You are dad?”
“Yes,” it said in my language. A poor accent, but still clear enough.
“By now, I’m sure you know how dangerous your jokes are against my kind. What I need to know, er, Dad, is how many more have training like you? How many *dads* are there, capable of this kind of punnary?”
The creature laughed, as though I had said something amusing. But I suppose that any creature capable of deploying bad puns as indiscriminately as this one had must have some strange sense of humour.
| The massive Zenthrok war dreadnaught maintained their orbit between Jupiter and Europa. Hidden in the shadow behind the moon, it would be easy to observe this new species undetected. Small, poorly built space vessels had made it as far as Jupiter, all unmanned. The Zebthrok had dismantled these vessels expecting to find advanced technologies or innovations, some clue as to why the infantile fleshy larvae of this small planet had been put under the protection of the Andromeda Triumvirate. The Zenthrok had spent generations raiding into the Magellous Clouds seeking rare and valuable super dense elements. Maybe these creatures held a key that could turn the tide in favor of the Zenthrok.
The Marthrag of Alnir, second in command of uncivilized systems under the Zenthrok fitted the last pieces of fabricated exoskeleton onto his brittle fractual crystalline body. Once the armor was in place he waved his hand over a Zenthroklit panel and the porthole opened. A vessel from the soft creatures had crashed onto this asteroid. The Zenthrok dreadnaught had used gravity beams to throw the ship off of its path and into the asteroid. As the Marthrag landed lightly onto the surface, he spotted the crash and approached it. Sliding across the surface using magnetic field generators in the exoskeleton. There was an abundance of cobalt in this asteroid. He tore what remained of the door off of its hinges and reached into the opening. He could get little more than half his arm inside, but he felt it, the warmth from the beings heat. His hand found it and he lifted it out of the vessel. Once he had it out his exoskeleton began taking diagnostics. Temperature was almost twice the body temperature of the Zenthrok. The suit appeared to contain a gas blend the creature needed. It began to move and lifted something, pointing it at the Marthrag. Without hesitation he close his hand around it and it sort of popped in its suit. Some kind of gooey liquid spattered the facial shield of its helmet and it went limp.
Nothing. They could find no reason that the Andromeda Triumvirate would consider this species worth protection. Their flesh carried a horrific stench, they were filled with uncountable tiny organisms. Overall they were disgusting. It was a bit fascinating that their bodies could produce energy from matter instead of just collecting solar radiation as most species did. Still, it explained nothing. This infuriated the Marthrag, he had eaten several of the crew of his ship in fury.
"Marthrag, we may have found something. We dismantled the entire ship. They have a collection of raw primordium. Several units of it. It appears they haven't weaponized any if it."
"Primordium? Several units?" How could this be. The species could barely navigate their own solar system. They never could have gotten far enough out in space to find the Nebulae dwelling Archwurms. "Why weren't they using it? How could they have gotten primordium from the bellies of Archwurms?"
"We... er...think they produce it" the younger Zenthrok seemed hesitant.
"What do you mean they produce it?" If they were producing it and the Andromedans could get their hands on it, this could end the war. How many plagues had been unleashed by primordium in the hands of the Andromedans. Whole planets had been lost. " How could they possibly product it, even the Kelleri and the Andromedans have been unable to synthesize primordium. It's the only thing that's saved us all these eons."
"It.. it's their waste. It comes out of them."
The Marthrag knew he had no choice. The planet and this species had to be eradicated, even if he lost his entire crew and spiraled the Zenthrok further into war. He could not allow such a devastating weapon, one that had purge life from entire systems to be harvested by the Andromedans.
The dreadnaught moved out of Europas shadow and lumbered towards the blue and green planet, prepared to annihilate it.
| 2014-07-16T13:40:10 | 2014-07-16T11:24:28 | 36 | 10 |
[WP] An alien nation descends upon earth. Their assault is... incredibly underwhelming.
Take "incredibly underwhelming" however you want.
Examples: They do nothing but inconvience you. They're so weak they get bullied by grade schoolers. Their laser technology doesn't even burn a hole in your woolen sweater as even sheep have surpassed them.
Whatever you like. | Humanity banded together nearly a decade ago, the aliens ship was after all easily detected. The massive nuclear engines they utilized poured out radiation and energy easily visible for light years even before they entered the heliosphere of the solar system.
At first some scientists feared we were about to witness a Gamma Ray burst, but the fact that the radiation pulsed in a regular matter made it clear that it was artificial. It was an alien ship decelerating from close to 80% light speed. The radiation bursts were from the nuclear weapons they were using to propel themselves. We had looked at doing something similar in the midst of the cold war, Project Orion it was called. If you want to get close to light speed use a few thousand nuclear explosions to push you up to that speed, and a few thousand more to slow you down.
So we knew they were coming, for more than a decade we knew. Humanity at first panicked, nearly every major city suffered from riots and unrest. Aliens were on their way towards our solar system, and they were using nuclear weapons to do so.
After the panic died, and we continued to watch something strange happened. Those petty little wars and disagreements around the globe slowly petered out. They didn't stop entirely, man has always, and will always be, should always be at war with himself.
The Nations of the world large and small came together, we all looked up in fear as we did so at the incoming craft. The United States, China, Russia, every military force around the world pooled their resources. The aliens could not be allowed to reach Earth.
Within two years the first primitive battleship was launched, aptly named Endurance she was the most expensive piece of equipment every built. Each of the larger nations poured almost their entire GDP into her construction. She was the first craft to be built entirely in orbit and she was the pride of humanity. Nearly 75 meters long and 20 meters wide she was not the massive hulking battle ships we had imagined, but she functioned.
Like the aliens ships she was nuclear powered, her main method of propulsion above earth were small plasma rockets but once far enough from the atmosphere she too would throw nuclear weapons from her belly to propel herself.
The smaller nations of Earth collected themselves, and trained those who would fight on the ground. the largest armies in history were created, armies that did not belong to one nation but instead stood to protect the entire world. The massive amount of industry that spawned to create these armies, and ships pulled many nations out of economic strife, and sent others spiraling down into it.
Not that it mattered, every company every individual with money thought not to hoard it but to push it forwards, after all what was the point of wealth on a destroyed world?
By the time 8 years had passed Humanity stood ready.
The fleet of three Endurance class Ships were launched, along with their supply vessel to intercept the alien ship which was still slowing. It was now visible in the night sky and had long ago entered the orbit of Jupiter.
The three ships would intercept it just inside the orbit of Mars.
Humanity watched, everyone feared that the three ships would not be enough. After all these aliens had the technology to traverse the stars. The three ships would slow the enemy, give us information about them.
Soon the night sky was alight with another blaze of light, not from the alien ship but from our own. So close to one another that they appeared to be a single nuclear blaze.
Humanity watched as the two points of light in the sky moved slowly closer and closer to one another.
Then, the alien one died.
Scientists confused looked back at their charts, and consulted with one another, argued and fought.
The ship was still on it's way but it was no longer slowing. Now traveling faster than our ships that could intercept it the three human battleships watched as they failed in their mission and the alien craft shot past them towards the Earth.
Humanity stood resolute, ready to fight.
Two years later the alien craft passed, it simply flew between the Earth and the moon. We for the first time got our glimpse at it. A solid hunk of metal the only thing on it's surface were instruments. hundreds of thousands of cameras, sensors, radios, the craft looked down at us.
Every communication system on Earth was overwhelmed as it shot past. It sent out a massive signal in one direction, towards Epsilon Eridani. A small system 14 light years from Earth.
Humanity watched as the craft passed us by and dove into the sun.
It was unmanned, it was a probe.
After all who invades without first scouting?
---
/r/HFY I hang out over their a lot writing, come join us where Humans can be awesome!
Also my personal subreddit.
/r/cgwilliam where I also write. | When people thought of the words *alien invasion*, the first thing that usually pops to minds is overwhelming firepower. Giant, city-sized saucers with nuclear energy beams, giant mechas or tripods waltzing through military installations and destroying everything in globules of plasma, standing triumphant anove the human race until they were defeated by something incredibly menial like, say, the common cold, or a Macintosh 95, or even just a 1v1 firefight.
A very Hollywood conception, really. And, unsurprisingly, the truth of the matter was unlike any actual Hollywood film. That was obvious when the ships came by, just passing Mars just shortly after the movie set on that red world made its way to home media.
It was obvious at first that they were not anything familiar; they could be identified via telescope, and after a few days of general social media pamics and estimations that came from everywhere from **NASA** to 4chan, it was determined that these ships, seventeen in total, were all roughly the size of your run-of-the-mill airplane carrier, and the rough bulky nature of ships brought to mind instantly the stylings of military engineering.
That was the first dissappointment; the aliens were coming to Earth with their fleet to invade Earth; and they didn't even look that bad. Oh sure, military advisors panicked everywhere at the thought of orbital warfare (how can one fight against something you can't shoot at, only prepare against?), but the ships weren't even big; they were actually smaller then some of our *naval ships*, and they even resembled them in design.
They could have at least *looked* alien. Which, of course, the pilots did. That was the one thing that made people secretly excited, when we first **saw** the aliens. These were the creatures of Lovecrafts nightmares ran by Wayne Barlowe and H.R Giger, insectoid-fungal race known as the *Q'ui*; a race from our own galaxy in a very far-off star system, having arrived to this one through a concept that couldn't properly be translated until we found out for ourselves at their gracious ~~hands~~ claws.
Yeah, you see, even though we got the excitement from seeing alien life for the first time, an entire warfleet in fact, it wasn't what we expected. It turns out the *Q'ui* weren't even here for us. This mighty fleet, armed with railguns, nukes, bombs, drones and plenty more disconcertingly familiar armaments, was just dropping by for a pitstop.
The race of invaders had the dececny to call ahead and let us know, taking down in the middle of the Siberian wasteland for rendevous for supplies, refuelling and arming, letting world governments kmow that they were also going to establish a 'colony' of sorts there as well, given our approval of course.
All of this done through an 'Ask Me Anything' styled discussion between them and a forum they'd made on their own volition, with a video being uploaded to fuckin' **YouTube** to let people know it was legitimate.
A few months passed, the *Q'ui* generally got along well with humanity, horrifying appearances aside, and on March 8th of 2016, the warfleet finished refuelling and establishing the colony, which officially introduced humanity to the universe at large, and flew off to Venus for their official attack on the Reptoids.
And that was that. An 'invasion' that didn't see any fighting whatsoever. No genocide, no last stand, no world monuments destroyed. Just a pit-stop, intergalactic wifi and some new locals, and then they were off.
The people of the world weren't sure if they should have been delighted or dissappointed in that. | 2016-02-22T13:17:54 | 2016-02-22T11:29:44 | 44 | 18 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | --start recording--
I give you this message, my child, so that you may learn from our mistakes. I am sorry that I cannot be there to tell you in person, I would wish for nothing more now than to see you grow old enough to understand and cherish the words I have written here. But that will not come to pass. My one solace is to know that you will find safety on the ark, the last of our dynasty.
I have been given only limited space in this message. I am to tell you about the glory of our family, its principles, and its secrets. I will not. I understand this may disappoint you greatly, and for that I am sorry. I hope that in time you will come to understand why I choose to write what I wrote, and come to cherish the freedom it gives you. If it is any comfort, know that I support you no matter what path you choose, save one. Do not follow the same path that led us to our destruction.
I do not know what lies the teachers will have told you on the new homeworld we are sending you, but know this: it was us we called upon ourselves our own demise, by our pride, and our greed.
But, I shall begin at the beginning.
One hundred and fifty-one of our years ago, I do not know how many years that will be on the new homeworld, we learned of a new species being welcomed into the galactic community. As I am sure you know, not even the kinkeepers could hide such plain knowledge; the physics of our universe allow nothing to travel faster than light. To travel the stars, a species must discover the u-tunnels that cross our universe in the seventh and eight dimensions. In ancient times the first ones, understanding that it would be impossible to continually watch the countless worlds orbiting the countless stars of our galaxy, set up the Watchers in the Deep to recognise whenever a new species first enters the u-tunnels. The first ones have long since lost the curiosity that drove them to find others like them, and do little than toast to themselves whenever a new species appears on their radar, and send the new arrival a congratulatory postcard. But to us in the fringes, it is still an important event.
There is no star in the galaxy that has not been claimed by some species or another. And few who have not have blood shed for their conquest or preservation. But do not be fooled. No species needs the endless expanse they claim. The ‘great’ empire we were so proud of was made up of billions of stars that we had not even surveyed, let alone ‘controlled’. Many species that contend themselves with but a hundred systems are many times stronger that the greatest of empires.
But, even so, no species enjoys the experience of some young upstarts appearing in a system that they had claimed through strenuous diplomacy or war.
When the humans appeared right in the middle of the spinward neutral zone with the Trakirii, our greatest rivals, we were sure it would lead to war. Our leaders talked boldly of Trakirii treachery, but in truth they feared them. Why else would we, who sought to conquer without end, who knew it was our being to conquer, allow such a thing as a neutral zone? The great patriotic war of ninety-four double-one clicks was bloodshed without end, no matter what the histories say.
Yet, our leader’s fears did not come to pass that day. For the humans proved themselves silver-tongued, especially for a species so young. They convinced the Trakirii to grant the humans space to expand on the Trakirii side of the neutral zone, and even brokered a deal where in return we were allowed to found a colony on the ‘holy’ tombworld of Tchakara IV, where we fought the greatest battle in our history.
Our leaders were satisfied that they could continue bullying lesser species into handing over uninhabited systems that were nothing more than dots on a star map. But, to their credit, some of us were wiser. They choose to investigate more about who these ‘humans’ were.
We send spies in the guise of diplomats, and began to study their history and character.
We learned that the humans were much older than the average age for a species to achieve u-tunnel technology. Two centuries ago, they had been on the cusp of the discovery, when they were all but driven to extinction. It seemed their scientists had discovered understanding of relativity unusually quickly, which had hampered research into u-tunnel technology till after they had achieved many of the other hallmarks of a spacefaring species: eternal life, advanced AI, fusion energy. Somehow, or so we assumed, this wealth of technology without the guidance of the galactic community led to them destroying themselves. With most of their greatest accomplishments lost, the humans spend centuries rebuilding their world. Leading the species were a small oligarchy of elders, who had been made immortal before the cataclysm and survived its aftermath. They allowed a limited form of democracy, while they held ultimate power behind the scenes. It was they who had been the driving force behind the human’s diplomatic fortitude. We concluded that they were old senile beings, fools who had destroyed themselves and in centuries of rule grown weak and fearful of conflict that could upset their safe opulence.
When, fifty years later, the Slend appeared not far from the human territory, the humans took care of this new species exactly as we expected them too. They negotiated. A second territory was granted to the Slend in the neutral zone, and a second colony to us in compensation. We would joke that if enough species appeared the humans would trick the Trakirii in giving up their own homeworld to us. Our hypernet filled with cartoons of the humans commanding the Trakirii like they were a Slaath trainer in a travelling circus.
We did not notice the way the humans took pity on the Slend, whose world was harsh and dying. The Slend had developed u-tunnel technology to save themselves from their burning world, but knew little of even rudimentary terraforming or sublight space travel. The humans searched the Slend’s territory for the best world for them. Millions of star systems were analysed in one of the greatest survey missions our arm of the galaxy had ever seen. When they’d found the best candidate in their own territory, the humans did not even hesitate to give it up to the Slend. Along with two others in the Slend’s own territory, the humans terraformed the worlds and provided the means for the Slend to move their whole population out. In the Slend migration the humans accomplished feats even the first ones would’ve found challenging. Yet all we saw was weakness, a species afraid of conflict. Had we looked deeper, we could’ve seen strength. We could’ve known what would await us. | From the logs of Qi-Sil, Xion Imperial Chronicler
 
The humans joined the Galactic Federation around 6700 standard years ago. They were at the time a weak and unimposing presence, much like the Federation was. But while the Federation may arguably still be nothing more than a façade, the same cannot be said for those strange creatures.
Archived records tell that their emergence into the presence of the burgeoning Federation came not long after a global nuclear disaster with dozens of explosions on their homeworld, the likes of which had never been seen before, and only once since. The disaster came around 100 "Earth Years", as they call them, after 2 smaller nuclear incidents occurring in rapid succession, and while the first presumably left only minimal casualties (in the 100's of thousands), the second must have decimated their population. The humans have not come forth with an explanation for the radiation which has left still-detectable scars on their world, but both independent disasters seem to have been power plant accidents (although some theorists presume they were the result of a primitive intra-species conflict).
But the humans quickly grew strong again following the disaster, just in time to gain a respectable position in the Federation. While many civilizations, with their hive-mind mentality have remained embroiled in pointless warfare, the cautious, even timid humans gained hgih standing in the community with fantastic speed. They formed many loyal alliances early in their inclusion in Galactic affairs, which may explain why they were able to avoid any conflict for so long.
But conflict came, and it was a indescribable display of brutality.
A military ship of the rather belligerent species known as the Qi-sil decided to attack a human science vessel in a Federation-decreed area of neutral safe trade space. The Qi-sil had taken advantage of the more pacifistic species in the past, using their reluctance to fight as an excuse to claim territory that simply didn't belong to them. The Federation mostly called them harmless and refused to take action up to this point, but many civilizations in the Federation had much of their lands stolen by these thieves. The humans took this act of aggresion as a declaration of war, and responded in kind.
They began small, with proportional responses that exchanged a few settlements here and there. But when a rogue Qi-sil General attempted a not-entirely-unsuccessful attack on a human population center, the mood of the war shifted. The humans sent a flurry of communications to the invaders commanding them to halt their attack, but to no avail. The Qi-sil pushed forward into human territory but they found only empty outposts evacuated long before the first scouts arrived. They encountered no resistance, no retaliation of any kind. And they pressed on.
As the Qi-sil army reached a second major population center, logs recorded a strange anomaly. the army turned on its own ships, imploding, eviscerating itself as pilots, friends turned on each other and killed one another in suicidal attacks without a thought toward their own mortality. The once legendary army, the military arm of a highly advanced species all but disappeared in less than 24 hours.
A mere day later, citizens of the Qi-sil homeworld, still oblivious to their defeat the hands of themselves woke up to two strange events.
Much the same as their army, the citizens murdered each other in cold blood, with no warning or provocation. But this was worse, much worse, for while the Qi-sil army was equipped with lethal weaponry, the citizens used their own appendages to beat the life out of their friends and family without a second thought.
But second, as they fell into a murderous trance, they saw the stars in the sky seem to recede away, almost as if the entire galaxy was racing away around them. The sky became permanently black around them as they saw the stars for the last time. In what few seconds of sanity the innocents had left, they cried out in terror at the cataclysm happening around them.
The humans, in typical fashion broadcast a cryptic message that read:
*In response to unprovoked violence from the Qi-sil, we have taken necessary action to prevent further atrocities and violations of Federation peace agreements. Our justified response consisted of two primary elements: A prion engineered to stimulate the hyperactive agression region of the Qi-sil brain and encourage conflict, and a dark energy bomb that has sent the Qi-sil system far from the civivilized sectors at faster than the speed of light. We do not allow undeserved attacks on our innocent citizens.*
Today the Qi-sil culture remains a husk of its former 'glory'. They were decimated by the first wave of human attacks, and only a fraction of their species lives on with other civilizations. If the humans needed to make an example of someone to establish their presence, mission accomplished. They doomed the Qi-sil to the cruelest fate possible. They were either made to commit genocide on themselves, in complete isolation from any other good-willed civilization that may have saved them, or they had to witness the decimation of their entire way of life.
Perception of humans changed forever that day. They continued to act respectful, benevolent and cooperative but they were indisputably the most feared civilization in known memory beginning from then onward. They kept up their appearances of cooperation but it was now nothing more than a formality.
And their rapid, highly sophisticated, specialized response left many questions. How did they have such sophisticated knowledge of Qi-sil biology? Was their ancient homeworld nuclear 'accident' really an accident? Did they have a predetermined plan for a response to the Qi-sil? What other secret technology did they posses? And most importantly:
Did they have a plan for us? | 2016-03-13T18:34:56 | 2016-03-13T17:09:28 | 108 | 56 |
[WP] I've climbed Mt. Everest dozens of times, but I've never reached the summit. I've begun using my own corpses as trail markers, attempting to reach the top before I freeze to death again. (credit to u/PointlessPoem in r/TwoSentenceHorror) | My hand feels warm and I sigh, my breath wisping away in the snowstorm. I shiver and look behind me. I can see nothing by the most recent few footsteps. I ended up in a blizzard this time around. I want to rub my hands together, but I already know the warmth meant frost-bite. I wouldn't last very long at this rate. I had already lost feeling in my nose and my legs were locking up beneath me between steps like a robotic procession marred by malfunctions.
I almost tripped over my third marker. It was the corpse of mine that looked closest to a renaissance statue. I stared at the sky, one arm above me frozen in mid-scream. A mix of fear, rage and confusion in my frozen face. I looked at my corpse in the eyes. He died wishing for fire. He would have rather burned alive than be victim to his fate.
*Hello Prometheus* I nodded at it.
I continued, my body in flux between warmth and cold. It was impossible to tell what I needed, except rest. My body was wracked with fatigue above all, as if the iterations between each nightmare carried their exhaustion with them. I made a left turn at the corpse who had gotten his foot stuck at one of the turns. I wanted to feel sorry, but I spent the rest of that life feeling sorry for myself anyway. I did not have any time for that anymore. I only wished to reach the top. He had carried the burden of pity for the rest of his painful life. I nodded to it.
*Hello Atlas.*
I tripped only a few feet away from my record progress. I fell to the icy floor and closed my eyes. My body did not have the energy to pick itself up. This was the end for me this time. My first time, I felt fear, but now I felt nothing but the drive to do better next time. There had to be an end, right? What did I do to deserve this endless climb?
My eyes grew heavy. If only I could sleep. I just needed a little rest. Just a little...
I shot awake somewhere in the middle of the climb. I was always fully-clothed, as if prepared for this trek, but I did not remember coming here. I only knew that I would die here. I was holding a cup of water. I only had a few moments to drink it before it would freeze over when the storm started again. I sighed and looked into my reflection.
My eyes were sunken in, the drive to succeed overcome by the hopelessness of it all. But I would make it. One of these times, I would find out the secret to this endless journey up the mountain. I nodded to my reflection forlornly.
*Hello Sisyphus*
______________________
/r/Nazer_The_Lazer | The wind is cold. It bites at my face. Stinging it like a hundred hornets. tormenting me. It’s feels numbed. It’ll be okay. This time I’ll make it. This time I’ll reach the top. This time I won’t fall into the snow. Eyes blank. As the darkness swirls around and I appear at the beginning all over again. Cursed to climb for all eternity. Like sysiphus and his stone. I don’t remember the first time I tried. But I can still see myself each time I climb this wretched hill. I was young. My eyes filled with hope, determination. Short black hair, hazel eyes. At least that’s how it used to look. It’s old and rotted and smells of rancid skunk rotting on a hot summers day. The air is tightening my throat now. I grab the ground as the snow stabs my hand with a thousand needles. I don’t notice. I need to keep going. This will end if I reach the top. This will end when I reach the top. I will reach the top. I will reach the top. I will-
A heavy load of snow falls on top of me. How could I forget about that damned tree. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. The cold is surrounding me now. It presses down. Relentless it suffocates me. I closes my eyes. White is all I see anymore anyways. The blackness takes over. I spin around and around and...
I’m back at the start. The Woden platform. The smell of pine. An endless stretch of frozen bodies marking my path. The wood is rough on my hands. I put on my boots. And begin the trek again. | 2020-11-08T11:20:54 | 2020-11-08T10:32:54 | 90 | 24 |
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