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[WP] The hero stared at the boy who was supposed to be his wise old master. "Word of advice. If you ever achieve immortality then wait till you're at least 20", he said in a high pitched voice. | The boy reclined in one of the swamp pools that formed at the base of the tree of ancients. His proportions seemed alien to the hero, long gangly limbs, slender fingers longer than the hero's arms. His face a porous mess of craters upon craters. "You're to be my master" said the Hero.
" I am," cracked the voice of the boy.
"And what am I to learn from you? Surely you won't teach me to fight, they say you can't even stand anymore." Said the Hero.
"You're right. I will not teach you to fight. Though I was once a great warrior, many lifetimes ago." Squawked the Master.
"Then what use could I have of you, if you will show me no new paths to power? A dark cloud draws across the land, and it is my destiny to defeat it. So says my father God of Gods, and all the Oracle herself."
"Do not be so quick to seek your destiny child. Though fortune favors the bold, fate is fickle and cruel." A finger lifted from the muck besides the Hero. It lists through the air and settles upon the the Heroes shoulder. The muck of the swamp is warm, but the finger feels cold and lifeless. "They call me master because I am wise, but I was not always. Wisdom is learned in suffering, and it is wisdom I will teach you."
The Hero is incensed, "you will do no such thing, I have no time nor patience for your foolishness!"
"The Gods are unkind to such arrogance, some would see your very existence as an affront. Look and see what future your path holds. Your arrogance will be your undoing without my aid." | “Hello,” said a squeaky voice from afar. In the distance a small boy clothed in a wizards gown approached. I stared at him quizzically. “Word of advice. If you want immortality, wait till your at least 20” he said gazing up at me. He turned around and motioned for me to follow. I stood still, frozen by shock. “Come along brave hero, there is much to do in order to prepare you for your adventure at hand.” He said annoyed. I ran to catch up to him, despite looking like a small child he was faster than me. With that we walked on till we ultimately came across his home. | 2020-01-25T08:25:06 | 2020-01-25T07:47:58 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] When you reach the age of 21, you are given a check from the government. The check has been carefully calculated and is worth the minimum amount of money you need for the rest of your life. Your check came in the mail today and it was $7.27
Edit: Wow this blew up better than I thought it would. | I turned 96 years old today, and the doctors tell me I have very little time left. So I think it is time I reveal my greatest secret to the world, and you seem like a nice person...
On this day 75 years ago I recieved "the check". You know the one that the government used to send out on your 21st birthday? Yeah, that's right, the one they stopped when everyone started gaming the system.
Well I have never told anyone before today that mine was for just $7.27. Yup, it's true. I became famous, powerful, and the wealthiest woman to ever live, with my check being for $7.27. As a matter of fact I still carry it with me to this day, see here it is.
Needless to say when I got that check I though my life was over. I was halfway through college with no way to make enough money to get by on my own, and I had heard endless "small check" horror stories of suicides, accidents, and murderers, as everyone had back then. So I was certain this check had to signal the end of my life.
I went to the bank, endorsed the check, and waited in line for my life too end. But then something happened. It just clicked in my head and I decided to go down fighting. All I could think of to do though is to hold onto it, figuring if I didn't cash it I couldn't spend it, and if I didn't spend it I couldn't die. I was cut off from family support per the check rules, but I still had a month left in the dorm. So that is when I stopped attending class and started hustling.
The rest of the story has been told a million times, so I won't bore you. But I will say if it weren't for that check being for just $7.27 I would have never been anything more than a simple accountant. Never let anyone else tell you what your life will be, choose for yourself and make it happen.
Thanks for listening, you are such a sweety. Now how much do I owe you for the muffin? | I cashed in my newfound fortune. $2 got me on the bus, I got out at the edge of town. I walked for a few hours and found a garage sale sign, I followed the arrows to a somewhat shabby looking hobby farm. There was a very old man sitting amongst the articles he had for sale, all of which had a more leaden appearance than the man and his dull stare. I was scrutinizing a primitive looking shovel, thinking about how much I enjoy the feel of an old tool in my hands. I heard a scatching sound. The man focused his dead stare on me and was using a stick to write 5.27 in the dirt. I gave him the rest of my Minimum. He handed me the shovel, turned and very stiffly he took a knee in front of me. I rang the shovel off the back of his head and he collapsed. I dug a hole and covered him in his earth. I fed his animals and slept in his bed. When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was the warm decaying scent of spring. I began to dig up his garden. | 2019-04-24T14:02:37 | 2019-04-24T11:25:08 | 27 | 20 |
[WP] You wake up in a house. It's nice place, with all the comforts of home. However, the front door is cold steel, with a note on it. The note warns you never to leave the house. After years of compliance, you decide to go through the steel door... | She stood in front of the door, arms crossed, tapping her fingers impatiently. At the tender age of sixteen, she was experiencing a rather heavy bout of teenage rebellion. The television programs that played on the flatscreen in living room reminded her it was just a phase. The restless feeling would pass, and that one day soon she would be released from the program- whatever that meant. "Be sure to read your training materials!" The squat lady on the screen would chirp at her. "And perform your calisthenics twice a day to stay in tip top shape!"
When she was placed here, she was a capable ten year old who was light years ahead of her peers in school. She followed a strict scheduled, awake at 0500 and in bed by 2100. She studied diligently and made sure to exercise in the fully furnished gym in the basement. In her free time she had books, television, even a communications if she was wanted to talk to someone at the command post. She had stopped trying to make contact ages ago. They never gave her straight answers anyway.
She brushed a stray strand of blonde hair from her face and squinted at the door. It was locked; she tried opening it. She couldn't pick it; she had tried that as well. She had tried breaking windows, searching for hidden exits, and at one point she had crawled into the air vents to see if they would lead her anywhere- the result was a dusty and torn up uniform and peaking frustration.
In her search, she had found an axe, located under the kitchen sink of all places- as if it had been left there on purpose. She picked up and tested the weight of it. Solid oak handle but she couldn't place what the blade was made from. Upon closer inspection, she realize it wasn't made from steel or iron, but rather something much stronger. "Perhaps from tungsten carbide, or maybe-" She stopped herself before she could finish her analysis. It was stronger than the door, and that's all that she needed to know at the present moment.
She took a breath, steeled herself, and swung at the door handle. Part of chipped off and fell to the floor. "YES!" She kept swinging and hacking away at the door. It took time. By the time she could see light leaking through the door, her hair was plastered to her forehead and she was out of breath- but she was so damn close to freedom, she couldn't stop. Finally the door gave and swung open, and she stumbled over the threshold. She looked around wildly, unprepared for what she found.
She was in a open hanger, with identical houses all settled neatly in rows. People in military uniforms milled around, none of them paying her any attention, too preoccupied in their duties. She stood frozen in place for a long moment, unsure of what her next move was.
"Right on time, Corporal." A tall man with dark skin and a crisply pressed dress uniform greeted her. The insignia on his uniform made it clear he was an officer. She saluted in a knee jerk reaction. All those years of reading training manuals had finally proved useful. She stood taller, prouder. She had figured it out. She was going to get answers. "Time for your next phase of training." The Officer gave her an appraising look. "Follow me." | I stood in front of the steel door. The note told me not to leave, and I had always complied. I’d never even tried the giant knob that looked like a steering wheel that set in the middle of the door.
I’d gone to bed as thirty-seven year old part time temp living in a roach and mouse infested studio apartment with two other men. I’d woken up in a house larger than any I’d ever lived in that had every creature comfort I could ever want. It seemed like something I shouldn’t question.
Was it the drugs?
No. I hadn’t taken any the night before. I’d been clean. I didn’t even drink a beer on the stoop like I did every night.
I didn’t want to question my luck. Maybe I was dead and this was Heaven. Maybe the door led to Hell.
Everything was provided for me. Fresh food in the fridge. Clean towels in the bathroom. Clean sheets on the bed. Even the television shows were new. I never saw a repeat unless I wanted to.
I went through withdrawals. There weren’t any drugs or alcohol in the house, not even in the mouthwash. I’d never been a religious man, but I was pretty sure God didn’t like overindulgence in booze and drugs.
Over a period of a few years I got bored. Not having anyone to talk to grated on me. I started drawing faces on the walls and objects so that I could have something to talk to. My best friends became the actors on the sitcoms I watched.
I started to sit and stare at the metal door and its note. The television blared in the background while I thought about what could be on the other side. Long ago I’d thought it was Hell, but what if it wasn’t?
Pacing the house wore trails in the carpet. I’d had enough. I’d open the door. I couldn’t take being alone anymore.
Hope of another person to talk to won out over anything else.
I gripped the knob with both hands and turned. It spun with almost no resistance. I spun it and spun it for what seemed like minutes until the door latch clicked. As the door started to open I stepped back.
I stepped through the doorway into the void and hoped that at the other side I would find what I desired.
| 2015-03-21T11:13:06 | 2015-03-21T08:52:25 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] Your job was to clean and repair the messes heroes and villains leave in the aftermath of their fights. It's not a glorious job, but you still took some pride in it. So when the media called you an over-glorified janitor, you took offense and decided to stop working. | I crumpled the lab results in my hand. Earlier in the week I received an envelope full of powder in the mail. As I was about to open it when I noticed that there was the sound of something powdery inside as I moved it. Most of my mail recently has been hate mail. Thank you, Karen Clarks. I wasn't really promoting any political ideas. The problematic thing about me was that I'm a lover not a fighter, and that's just not done when you have super powers. I can warp material, change its shape, fuse it together, and break it apart. And no, for the hundredth time I can't create something out of nothing. Or change the materials none of this turning gold into carbon stuff. Yes, I know that sometimes it might seem like I can but keep in mind two oxygen and one hydrogen atom makes water. So let's put away the conspiracy theories for now.
I pulled myself away from my mental tirade and took a deep breath. This has to stop. As much as I would like to berate everyone into behaving, it wouldn't make a difference. People have a bad habit of not listening especially when it challenges their own world view. Apparently, there was a sizable number of people who thought that if you have super powers you should be a superhero. And not just any type of superhero mind you. No, it was imperative that you fight villains. What that meant varied from whiner to whiner. But I should be trying to smash some unfortunate jerk's head in. It wasn't that I never fought any nere to do wells, it was that I actively avoided it. If it was a normal jerk I usually called the cops and tried to keep people from hurting each other. With super villains it was pretty easy to get a super hero on the scene post haste without me having to do much. Yes, I know it sounds cowardly but despite my impressive powers I'm actually pretty squishy. Picking fights with people is a good way for me to end up dead. And besides I have a better use for my powers. Clean up. I fix the broken homes and businesses ETC whenever there has been a destructive battle. But that isn't "saving lives," never mind that I've used my powers to pull more than one unfortunate victim out of the rubble preventing suffocation or being crushed to death.
No, I need to calm down. What I do is important. But it was getting dangerous. And was dangerous because the people I was helping were entitled pricks. Fine. I didn't sign up for this kind of nonsense. If they wanted me to bash heads too bad. But if they couldn't appreciate what I did for them then clearly they didn't need it. It was high time I made some money off of my powers instead of being threatened over them. I had contracting certifications and a degree in architecture. It was time to make good use of them. After all, the number of people that wanted my services to fix their houses was pretty significant. It was time I just let the city destroy itself. Let Karen Clarks see what happens when I leave.
It took a week before people started to complain that I'd abandoned them. Typical. I never charged them anything, instead they just took me for granted instead, understanding that there were a hundred other things I could've been doing with my life at that moment.
In two weeks some of the super heroes reached out to me trying to talk me into putting aside my grievances and helping everyone out. They were pretty understanding. Each of them knew what it was like to be threated for stupid reasons. And in the end I agreed to help places like soup kitchens, homeless shelters, and schools.
A month in I found the super villain the Cold Fight sitting in my kitchen with a gift basket.
"I thought you'd appreciate a basket more than me killing a certain news anchor." Cold Fight said.
"Uh, thank you, Cold Fight," I resisted the urge to laugh at his name. Stupid as his name was he was an A list villain.
"Look a lot, we appreciated the work you did for the city."
I arched an eyebrow. I had been kidnapped once by a different villain.
"Look, nobody approved of what Carrion bird did." He began to bounce his feet. "She has problems. I mean most of them aren't pure anarchists like her. You? You're neural ground. Honestly, once the heroes were done with her we made her wish she'd never heard of you."
I nodded. I hated to admit it but it made sense. Carrion Bird had tried to make me work for her. I escaped and left an obvious trial for the authorities to find her hideout. She never bothered me again. Heck one time she caught me and flew in the opposite direction. "Why?"
He looked surprised. "Look I may be a bad guy but that city is where I keep a lot of my stuff. And I want to run that town one of these days. I'm not going to run a wasteland."
"Ah," I wasn't sure what to say. "But I've talked people out of working for you."
"It's okay." He smiled, "If anything you did me a favor." I folded my arms. "Okay, it was slightly annoying but none of them were cut out for that business. And truthfully what you do balances everything out. You deserve respect." He nodded and left.
I called some super heroes just incase there was a bomb in my basket or somewhere else in the house. Thankfully there wasn't. And nothing had been poisoned. They did contain several thank you letters from the villains. It was actually pretty awkward and sweet at the same time. Turns out I had saved more than one family member of various villains. Some of them had kids. Who knows. But it turned out there were at least a half a dozen villains who felt they owed me. They wished me well and hoped that the city might get its crap together.
Six months of me refusing to lift a finger in the city unless you were the most helpless of the city. People started protesting good old Karen. Karen made herself the victim, saying that was refusing to do my janitorial duties just to make her look bad. She complained that she'd called me out on being a lazy superhero and instead of pulling my weight I showed my true colors. Easy for her to say, she just had a full time job that she signed up for. She signed up to be in the public eye. I had just wanted to help without people taking much notice of me. But now I was getting death threats because others thought that I owed it to them. No one asked me what I wanted, they just took and took. I didn't like withholding my help but this couldn't go on. If people wanted to attack me while I tried to help me. Well screw them.
A year later the heroes and villains both agreed on a cease fire. They found that there were ways to co-exist. After talking it through, many of them found that some of the villains really just needed help. Others were just selfish but most of them were willing to come to arrangements that benefited them while not preying on others. And those that wouldn't, well they're not here with us anymore.
Karen Clarks never apologized.
But people did eventually forget to bother me.
I take that as a win. | "Let me be clear," I said to the beautiful caped man on the couch beside me, "it's not that being a janitor would, like, be bad. It's just... the way that, like, she said it, y'know?"
He sighed and rubbed his eyes through his mask, the bright blue spandex squeaking softly as it stretched beneath his fingers. "Yeah Rick, again, I got that. Listen. I'll say it again, because this is important. Who cares what they say? We all know what a great job you've been doing. Right, guys?" The other heroes scattered throughout my living room, which doubled as my kitchen, murmered their agreement. "See? Even Great Job Gal says you've been doing a great job. And we appreciate it so, so, just so much. So when you've got folks like us on your side, who cares about what the rest of them have to say about you? They just don't get it, man!"
He had a fair point. "You have a fair point. But-"
"Thank you, Rick! I knew you'd come around eventually, you're a smart guy. So, when can we expect you to get back out there on the scene? Without you cleaning up our messes -- the REAL hero's work, as we all say," the rest of the Hero's Gallery once again murmered agreement, "the people out there... well, they're getting, um, a little antsy." Icicle Lad fidgeted on the worn brown cushion of my sofa, which doubled as my bed, a bit nervously. The sound of his blue nylon pants rubbing against the imitation leather was not a particularly pleasant one.
GJG peeked out my window at that, and I followed her gaze, down to the city streets below, where protestors and police stood opposing one another upon asphalt covered with glass, rubble, ectoplasm, liquid flame, liquid fear, liquid icicles, shark juice, demon blood, human blood, and a copious amount of honey.
The Beekeeper down at me through their compound eyes. "Yeah, hey Rick. Listen up. Ol Ice here has been nothing but polite with you here, alright. That's why they call him Nice Ice, ya dig? But I'ma get a bit more real with you, pal. If you don't get down there, right now, with that mop and with that gumption of yours, I swear to sweet -- " their buzzing stopped, suddenly. In fact, everything stopped. Samurai Sam froze with his hand on the hilt of his sword, stepping to intercept the Bee. Desert Fox stood motionless before my sink as she poured herself a glass of water, the liquid frozen midstream as it fell from the tap.
This could only be the work of...
"The Time Bandit once again bursts upon the scene!" a woman robed in elaborate purple robes exclaimed as she burst upon the scene. She swept the glass out of Desert Fox's hand triumphantly and swallowed its contents, before replacing it to her hand. "I suppose she would prefer her water... still!" She threw her head back and let out a long, loud laugh.
"Aha, like not sparkling, I get it!" a little man giggled beside her.
"Yes, Pocket Watch. Another of my hilarious goofs!"
I cleared my throat. "Hey Time Bandit, what are you doing here?”
“Ah, Rick! The man of the hour! Listen, friend. I’ve come here to implore you, don’t listen to these, these... these squares! They have nothing to offer you but empty words. Tell me, good man. When was the last time they allowed you a sick day?”
I had to think. “I think it was two years back, after Poison Pete got into that spat with Windwalker Wanda. I was coughing pretty bad for like a week.”
“Absurd! Rick, Rick, Rick. Can’t you tell that they care nothing for you? And that is why I’ve come. I’ve come to offer you... A fantastic deal!” She waited expectantly.
“Oh great, what is it?”
“We, the United Union of Villains, would like to compensate you with a living stipend, zero-deductible health and dental insurance, and generous stock options in exchange for... nothing!”
“Nothing?”
“Yes, nothing! Isn’t it grand?” She threw back her head and laughed once again. “You will simply continue to refrain from your duties -- which have been so underappreciated by the media, as I’m sure you well know -- and do nothing. We will take care of the rest.
“Huh, that sounds pretty good. These... squares, though. I want to accept your offer, but I don’t think they’ll leave me alone if I do.”
“Oh, Rick. Leave that to us.” Her bright, green eyes gleamed. “I promise you, Rick. You just say the word, and they will never bother you again.”
I thought for a moment. “Okay, sure. Deal.”
A wide smile spread slowly across her face. Pocket Watch clapped his hands and cackled.
“Thank you, Rick. You won’t regret this, I can assure you. And now, we depart.”
The woman snapped her fingers, and everything blurred together. I felt my heart race, faster and faster and faster, until it felt as though it were one continuous thrum, like the humming of a generator, and then I was back on my couch again. But it was dark, and quiet. The air was still. I was alone.
I got up and walked to the window, where GJG had been frozen just a moment before. I looked outside and saw: nothing. There was nothing outside but vacant streets and buildings as dark and quiet as my apartment. Not a tree, or a puddle, or a cloud, or a living soul to be seen. And all I could do was nothing.
“Ah, shoot.” | 2022-09-28T22:08:59 | 2022-09-28T21:26:21 | 92 | 59 |
[WP] Every morning you wake up with small wounds; just little scrapes and bruises you attribute to flailing in your sleep. This morning, you woke up with a huge cut across your hip, a glowing golden dagger plunged into the wall, and what looks an awful lot like a dead angel on your floor. | Sooner or later it was bound to happen. I just didn't expect them to use such means to try and kill me.
The night before had gone as close to normally as I would ever get. I was sitting at the bar surveying the crowd, a class of amaretto sour in my hand. She walked up to me, an attractive blonde with a fairly curvy body, blue eyes, and the smile that simultaneosly invokes a sense of class and seduction.
Long story short, we ended up back at my place. It lasted a lot longer than I was expecting. She apparently fell asleep in an instant and I was soon to follow. At least, I thought she was asleep.
I've been wrong before.
Every other time there's been an attempt on my life, I wake up and see a woman wearing an all white suit sitting in my favorite recliner holding a long golden dagger. The first time, I asked her if she was the one who injured me in my sleep. She told me she didn't. For some reason I believed her.
She told me her name was something to the effect of Alicandricia. Not once would she tell me why I aways woke up the way I did. She always told me the same thing; "you must have night terrors." Every time I dropped the subject as easily as I brought it up.
Now she was here on my floor, dead. Whatever the hell it took to kill her, I knew it was bad.
I looked around and didn't see the woman from last night. I thought she must have ran off during my "night terrors." I was wrong. As I wandered off into my kitchen for a up of coffee and breakfast, I heard a scream behind me. I turned quickly to see the blonde charging at me with a golden spear and a pair of golden wings. I barely moved out of the way of it, my shirt torn where my liver had been moments ago.
"You should have died you son of Satan!" Her arms were trembling with anger, her face slowly distorting into a maddened expression, one that was begging for revenge. "You were never supposed to be able to kill her, but you did! You murdered General Alicandricia, you bastard!"
"First off, who the hell are you?" I asked even though I had a feeling I knew, a distant memory from somewhere. "Second, how could I murder somebody in my sleep?"
"You don't deserve to know who I am, and now you're just stalling." She lunged at me once again with the spear, and with familiar reflexes, I caught it just barely below the point, using all the momentum I could muster to swing the blade up and over, out of her shaking hands. I spun the weapon around, hitting her in the back of the head with the blunt side, knocking her unconscious.
I sighed, walking back into my bedroom where the corpse of the General Alicandricia was. I strapped the weapon to my back and started packing a bag. It was a shame. Out of all the angels I had met, she was my favorite.
She called me the son of Satan. She wasn't wrong, and I knew that I had to get moving. They would be after me again soon.
My name is Lucian d'Hiver. This is my story. | ...and something was rattling in the closet.
"What the f--" you begin as you take in the carnage around your bedroom. The angel, now grotesquely mutilated, seemed to be fading into thin air (albeit slowly.) There were feathers from its denuded wings scattered everywhere, and your curtains were shredded to long confetti strips.
It was fascinating but there seemed to be more pressing matters at hand--whatever is in your closet seemed to have double its efforts as the the door shook and the hinges loosened.
You lunge for the dagger still deep in your wall just as your closet burst open--
And the tiniest, fluffiest ball of deep red fur you've ever seen comes rolling out, tangled in a golden, *glowing* lasso and mewling pathetically.
You clutch the dagger to your chest as you slowly approach the creature, only to see that it's a kitten, hopelessly caught. Alright, like this day couldn't get weirder... but animal lover as you are, you couldn't leave this defenseless little thing like that and, crooning reassurances, you gently untangle the mess of rope from its body.
And how it repays you! The tiny thing, now freed, begins purring loud like an engine (a great feat for such a minuscule body) rubbing its body all over you as you run your fingers through its soft, ruffled fur. It looks up at you with deep, golden eyes and mewls again, then suckles on your fingers.
*Poor baby must be starving!* you think. The angel's body, now mostly transparent, fading from your attention. All that stuff could be dealt with later, but right now you need to check for a can of tuna and some milk so you could fill its belly.
You set the kitten (odd color, you don't think you'v ever seen one in crimson before but it's probably a new designer breed) on your bed and wag a finger at it.
"Stay put, I'll go get you something to eat."
Almost like it understood, the kitten makes a tight turn and sits down, staring at you expectantly.
So cute! You say to yourself as you rush out, not noticing the odd way its eyes glowed or the deep voice that whispered a single word, seemingly directed at the heavens.
"Mine." | 2017-12-24T04:50:12 | 2017-12-24T04:37:59 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] Two warriors engage in battle. One with the power to move superhumanly fast, and the other with the ability to slow down time. They're both a little confused when it seems like their powers don't seem to be working. | I was supposed to be meeting a client when they arrived in my alley. That gang of “heroes” that went around beating up and jailing people who were just trying to survive on the streets.
“We’ve been following the trail led by your contacts for months. They ratted you out, and we have you cornered!” Said the bold one in red, who I assumed was be the leader.
“Of course, that Randy was always a backstabbing scum. I love that guy.” I responded. They walked slowly toward me, backing me into the wall. They had me cornered.
“To think that all this would lead to a lowly street peddler. I was thinking the supplier would have been a gang boss or something” chuckled the tall one in green. Probably the brains of the group.
“Oh darlings, you must be confused. I’m no lowly peddler.” I paused for dramatic effect, it wasn’t every day you got to talk to superheroes, might as well make a performance out of things. “No, no, I am The Peddler.”
None of them appeared threatened by my name. While everyone on the streets would speak my name only scarcely in whispers, these twerps didn’t even know who I was. This was going to be fun.
“Listen buddy, we have you cornered, give up before it gets ugly.” said the big one in orange as he punched his palm. Clearly the one who thinks with his fists.
“Oh c’mon darlings, you wouldn’t stop by without checking out what I have for sale now would you?”I opened my trench coat to show them the wares inside. “These are gen-u-ine authentic watches. You can’t turn down this deal.”
“Bribery will get you nowhere peddler!” said the one in pink, probably the peppy one who made them wear those hideous matching outfits.
My back was against the wall now, they were only a half dozen feet away. I had only seconds to act, but seconds were more than enough.
“Can we just grab ‘em already? I’m sooo bored.” said the blue one quickly as she tapped her foot on the pavement, clearly indicating that she was telling the truth.
The big orange one’s fist flew at my head. I quickly grabbed one of my watches and activated it. His fist stopped only inches away from my face.
“No, not stopped, just slowed to the point where movement is barely noticeable” I thought to myself as the rest of the world slowed too.
I sidestepped the punch and got to work. I produced a cane from my trench coat and swept the legs out from underneath orange. I was about to do the same with the rest of the group when I heard a sound.
“Wha-wha-what happened?!” stammered blue. Now this is what caught me off guard.
“Why aren’t you frozen? You’re supposed to be frozen!” I yelled.
“Why aren’t I fast?!” She seemed in hysterics now.
“Ahh” I said, regaining my composure. “It appears I have met my match” I responded.
“You, I’ll get you for this!” She yelled as she charged towards me at an average speed.
I wasn’t used to fighting in real time, but I still managed to step out of the way of her heavily televised attack. It became apparent that she also wasn’t used to this form of combat.
And so it went on a bit, both of us out of our environment, her clumsily missing blows, me barely managing to not get hit. In a way it was the most anticlimactic fight ever. You’d expect a master of time and speedy opponent to have an epic battle, and maybe it would look that way to outsiders, but at our speed it was obvious neither of us were actually very good at fighting. In fact I had rarely ever done anything but mess with my assailants and run away. After what felt like an eternity she managed to pin me against the wall.
“Change it back! Now!” She yelled. Clearly using all her might to stop me from breaking free. It became blatantly apparent to me that without her super speed, she couldn’t pack enough power into her blows.
“Honey now why would I do that? That’s a horrible bargain. And besides, you aren’t a threat to me.”
“Are you telling me it will be like this forever?” I could hear the desperation in her voice as she gestured towards her allies who still were facing the wall I was previously cornered in.
“Darling please, it’ll stay like this until I tell it not to.” I said with a smug grin. “Tell ya what. I’ll cut ya a deal. Let me go free, and I’ll let things return to normal.”
“You think I’m just gonna let a criminal walk away?”
“It’s either that or spend an eternity with me in the next few minutes.” I said, pointing towards my watch. “Now frankly I don’t mind the company, but the choice is yours.”
“I- I uh.” She stammered.
“Don’t worry darling, we’ll have loads of fun in quite literally no time, just you and me, forever.” I winked at her.
“Fine. Deal.” She said sounding defeated. Blue let go of me and sulked away. “Just put it back to normal and get out of here.”
“Works for me honey.” I said while I walked down the alley. “Oh, don’t forget this.” I said as a tossed a beautiful “genuine” golden watch to her. After I was a far enough distance away, I snapped my fingers, and time snapped back to normal speeds.
Wow okay so I’ve never wrote on one of these prompts before, and I know it’s late and this’ll get buried, but I had a lot of fun writing. It’s not perfect but I had a good time. Hope you enjoy. | There was nothing but the cold darkness at first. Then things began to move quicker, as always. My mind sped up, my eyes adjusted, my muscles began to listen again - and at that moment, I could feel something hovering, quivering near my temple.
It was floating there so strangely, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out what had happened. Me and my men - Army's first superhuman squad, second section - had just engaged the enemy when, all of a sudden, everything had seemed to just... stop. No sound, no bright white light, nothing. I thought at first this must be what dying is - so fast that no one, not even *I*, could ever see it coming.
And then I realized, as the sound of the gun being fired and the sensation of bullet starting to push into my temple registered, that no one else would have.
My hand almost moved on it's own and, with two nimble fingers, pushed the bullet out in front of my face. It was always difficult to stop something already in motion at this speed, so I had to go for the next best thing. The thing slowly crawled into my field of vision, death in such a tiny package, and after a moment of shock I looked to my left to see what exactly had happened.
The battlefield had completely stopped, it'd seemed. Bullets and beams of light whizzed through the air, soldiers screaming with no words and dying in a moment. Blood sprinkled forth from wounds and speckled the air surrounding them. Some of my men were using their abilities. Broadside was throwing a punch, Radar was doing his thing in the ditch, and Bay was... knelt down praying. Wish I coulda smacked him, dunce.
Then I noticed the man in camo, prone on the ground just feet away. His eyes opened wide in my time.
*So it's him,* I thought. *He must've seen us getting busy earlier and decided it was best to take me out.* I couldn't blame him, either. My power was something special, apparently - one in a million, something hard to predict. That's how I got to command this little group of mine, being hard to predict.
Of course, nobody ever tells you about drawbacks when you sign up for this shit.
My vision blinked out for a second, and the brutality around me returned. The bullet whizzed by and struck the dirt. Screams and explosions rose, the dying died, and I consciously cranked the speed back up until I'd returned to our little moment. There was a limit on how long I could use my power. Bursts of speed for about ten to fifteen seconds, depending on how long I pushed. Any more and I'd be signing my own death warrant.
Of course, the man in my house couldn't have known that. By the time I'd gotten back, he'd appeared to have readied his pistol for a shot into Broadside. Bad choice, in my opinion - it wouldn't have done much, even at point blank, with that shitty little peashooter of his.
I noticed how sluggish I felt when I tried to move, but I got used to it fast. Kinda necessary to learn how to adjust on the fly with these abilities. I scrambled over to the man and tried to throw a punch, but he noticed me and dove well out of the way. I turned to face him again, but the quickness left me again, left me in the world of other men.
I closed my eyes and willed myself back into the quiet, still existence, but pain wracked my head and I felt like something had started stirring up my insides. My lip felt wet, and I wiped it to find a spot of blood. I was on the ground, laid out from a punch. The guy must not have wanted to take the chance of shooting me with a slow bullet again and opted to take a cheap shot and reposition. I'd do the same, honestly.
I got to my feet and searched as quickly as I could. The man hadn't gotten far, only stopping to steady himself and struggling to hold his breath it seemed.
*Is that his limit?* I thought and ran as fast as time would allow over to his position and grabbed him. I'll never forget the look on his face as I swung him around and let go. I sent him flying over to Broadside. His fist hadn't moved much in the two intervals of real time we'd experienced. There was plenty of space between him and the soldier he'd literally disarmed.
*No real way to stop that momentum.* As I dropped to the ground prone and covered my head, I noticed my nose had started bleeding. *Did he punch me straight on, or did I go too far? Felt like I took a hit to the cheek.*
It was the worst thing I had to worry about once the man in my time got stopped by Broad's fist in his side and gasped for air.
| 2018-09-24T14:56:45 | 2018-09-24T13:30:01 | 58 | 21 |
[WP] Every person in the world undergoes a "goodness" test. It's designed to give a score from 1 to 200, where 1 is pure evil, and 200 is an angel in human body. Then the world is divided into 200 zones, where people can live among their own kind. | The man in the black suit reshuffled the papers on his desk. "Well, I must say this is highly unusual. Under normal circumstances..." His voice trailed off, and he glanced at Rebecca, who was still standing behind me. I swallowed a few times, but my throat still felt dry. All the moisture in my body seemed to have moved to my palms. "I know my rights," I said.
The man in the black suit leaned forward. "It's quite simple, really. The fact of the matter is - well, frankly, you are not a good person." He paused for effect. "You did receive our letter? Your Virtue Score is well below the bank's cut-off point. Nobody gives loans to the double-digits. We can't count on you to repay your loan, because-"
"That's ridiculous!" I broke in. "I'll pay you back, I can do it! I told you a million times, I've got a steady job, I can show you my-"
*"- because,"* the main in the black suit continued icily, "confounding factors aside - your Virtue Score indicates you are... less than trustworthy, and no credible financial institute is going to take on a high-risk low-yield asset. This would all have been explained in the form letter. Are we done here?"
I slumped back down in my chair. Somewhere beyond my back, Rebecca tsked. "You may have taken notice of my client's spotless criminal record, to say nothing of the glowing job performance evaluations or the valor certificates. Do these count for nothing?"
The agent pursed his lips. "The VirtuMetrics algorithm isn't quite this blunt. It considers a wide variety of- I shouldn't have to explain this. The method's proprietary."
Rebecca smiled a winning smile. I assumed. "Please, walk us through. Just for the record."
"Very well." The VirtuMetrics rubbed his temples, causing his sleeves to fall back. He wore a thin silver band bearing the stylised 'Club 150+' emblem. I absently rubbed my own wrist. "The virtue scoring system was established under the Just World initiative back in the '20s." He had clearly given this speech before. "Terrible time. Crime running amok, drug cartels fighting open wars in the streets, jails bursting at the seams. President Smith finally put the boot in, declared some cities as sacrifice zones, had the Department of Information identify high-risk individuals, offenders and potential offenders and moved them there. And wouldn't you know it, crime plummeted everywhere else. The virtue zoning program grew out of that, and within a generation everyone was living in the neighborhood they deserved. But the system didn't scale well as population kept increasing. Computing a virtue score would take weeks because of all the interdepartmental work it involved. The whole system was privatised as a deficit-cutting measure in '42, we soon emerged as leader in a highly competitive market and have been providing accurate and *expedient* virtue scores ever since. Our algorithm's patented, proprietary and non-negotiable."
Rebecca politely waited for the agent to finish. We had rehearsed this, of course, but hearing my implied personal failures laid bare still hurt. "Yes... I was wondering about that. Speaking of competition, it must've hurt your business when GovData went under."
The man paused. "Well, it hurts to lose a system partner, but we weathered the storm just fine," he finally said.
"Didn't Arthus win the auction for their database, though? And there's no way they're sharing that data with their overseas competition. I wonder how that affected your heuristics..."
The agent clenched his fists. I felt something welling up in my chest. Not quite hope, but perhaps something close to it.
"What are you implying?"
Rebecca leaned forward, her voice all honey and glass shards. "Are you are aware that, under the Community Reinvestment Act, it is illegal to deny loans based solely on the applicant's address?" | The worlds capital city was a huge, walled masterpiece named 'Virtue' to echo its extreme moral standards. The city was walled off into 200 sectors, each increasingly smaller than the last, until you reach the high rises in the city centre for the 200's or 'true citizens' as they were affectionately referred to by the media. In stark contrast, the outer sector was effectively a giant slum for the 1's.
Here in Virtue your number determines the standard of living, many call this virtue incarnate. Others call it bullshit. I am inclined to agree with the others, and the situation is becoming toxic with the installation of a giant golden statue of Arete, the Greek goddess of virtue and valour in sector 200. The true citizens were playing a dangerous game, as it turns out that most people do not score well. Over 70% of the cities population resides between sectors 1-50.
"BROTHERS AND SISTERS! HEED MY WORDS!!" begun a local fanatic. People were putting a temporary halt to beating the shit out of one another and petty acts of vandalism and theft to see what the commotion was all about.
"Why do we follow a law that condemns us to a life of squalid containment!?" his eyes were bloodshot as he spat each word. High as a kite I mused as I watched whilst smoking from the safety of a street corner within ear shot.
"We have 15% of virtues people in this sector alone, no other sector has more. I pose the question to you, my fellow brethren. How are the 1% truer citizens than the rest? Who has the right to decide were less good than others.." he reasoned as murmurs of debate broke out in the ever-increasing mob.
"We should rise up! And free our fellow brothers over the walls and take what should be everyon-"BANG the fanatics body lurched forward as a hole was torn through the robed man, spurting blood into the faces of those closest. The cigarette dropped from my mouth as I strained to see the source, way up high almost in the clouds. A man donned in brilliantly white, steel armour with a sniper stood atop the towering walls of what I would assume was the wall between sectors 197 and 198. Uprisings were not tolerated.
The mob erupted in cries of pure hatred, people grabbed sticks, guns and makeshift weapons as they hopped in trucks, cars and everything they could and charged the wall between 1 and 2. The wall stood merely 10 foot high and was in a state of disrepair. The skeleton crew of guards were took by surprise as I and thousands behind me plowed through the wall in mammoth truck rigs and into sector 2, where the industrial sector begun. We broke out in cheers as the guards were bludgeoned viciously behind us in the mob.
---2 months later and we have reached sector 90 and the uprising will not stop until the pretentiousness of the true citizens is brought down.--- | 2016-08-26T13:55:56 | 2016-08-26T12:49:17 | 84 | 54 |
[WP] 100 years in the future dank memes are precious artifacts. While scanning your grandpa's PC, you stumble upon the rarest of all... | I looked at the dilapidated thing in front of me. Was this really what they used as computers back in the day? How were you supposed to shitpost if you needed to use your hands? They were rarely covered in shit at all and they were slow and clunky.
I checked around either side of the machine for Nero imports to insert myself into. I couldn't find one but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was no way my grandfather lived without virtual reality. Virtual-reality with the key to our life, it was what made the world. Without it we were a bunch of humans. Sitting scared on a sad little rock.
I'd just spent the past four years of my life trying to find the key to making virtual-reality interesting my search had brought me here.
I blew the dust that was in front of me and looked over the machine one last time before finding the power button to turn it on. Back in the day they were legends about people shit posting for hours and always being entertained. We didn't think it was possible last for more than 10 seconds there had to be something secret that they had access to.
I opened up the first window I found. I had to use the mouse to do it. How had they lived like this? The first window that opened knocked me to the floor. Literally I fell backward and hit the tiles.
Optimus kek? How had they been so clever?
| I've heard of the stories of course, lucky people who found dank memes. So I went searching on my grandpa's PC and I struck gold. On the desktop of the slow, stuttering computer there was an MP3 file titled 'Do a Barrel Roll'. I would be rich! I could sell this to the highest bidder, but first I would listen to this great work of art for hours on end. Dank memes are amazing! | 2015-12-12T10:02:26 | 2015-12-12T09:29:50 | 60 | 12 |
[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! | 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. | "Why? Why are you doing this?"
"So that all may benefit."
"Please, it hurts, it hurts so much."
"Now, now. Relax, let fingers massaging into your arms and shoulders bring the warmth your body craves. You're freezing, your practically a cadaver."
"But it's so warm there, just let me go!"
"Hush, no more of that. Let *MY* warmth take over. You can feel it keep you breathing; keep your heart pumping; your mind working. Otherwise you'd die and then what?"
"Yes! Yes! Please just let me die you damn white devil!"
"But you're no good to me dead. I can't observe life in a corpse. I can't see the very magic of life itself if I let you die. But! In the transition that's where it must lie. To observe the moment when what is becomes what is not. Therein lies the secret. And I will find the secret. I will know it. I will have it. No matter how many times I must heal you and bring you back."
"But it's been centuries! I'm as the living dead!"
"Oh, but time won't matter if we have eternity..."
| 2016-11-12T10:14:05 | 2016-11-12T09:05:54 | 28 | 16 |
[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? | Death watches as the boy in front of him starts getting excited, blithering on about some competition he had won and gotten an "awesome tool of awesome." The man starts rummaging around his untidy room looking for something.
Out of the closet comes several odd items. Board games, video games, a glass tube with burn marks around one of two openings, some dirty clothes that would have made anyone with a sensitive nose cry out in horror. When the man finally straightens up, he muttered to himself. "Must've stored it under the bed."
Death is fortunately not bound by the pretty laws of time, and this does not feel the need to hurry the emaciated man up. He is, however, able to get bored. Instead of watching the man continue to remove items from under his bed, he looks at the posters on the walls, all of famous musicians. Oddly, it appears that they're all playing a specific instrument, a-
"Found it!" Cries the man. He triumphantly holds out a instrument case. "I won this in a competition a few years back."
Death had never been the musical type, which meant any musician wise enough to use this against him had an advantage in these death games. One day, he'll beat Keith Richards, just you see. He reluctantly opens the case to find a beautiful instrument, one that had clearly not been made by mortal hands. It's shine reflected the dim light all over the room, the pale light illuminating the dark and dusty room. Despite being unused for several years at least, plucking the strings still produced the proper tones. Despite appearing to be made of gold, it wasn't heavy.
"Alright, so let's have a rock off." The man says, clearly getting excited. "We each get a turn on the guitar, and whoever plays better wins."
Death signs dramatically. "Sure, just one question first. Where did you get this?"
"I told you, from the devil, weren't you listening?" The man clears a space suitable for rocking out by bulldozing the myriad of junk out of the way.
"Mmm. Well, Jonathan, are you ready?"
Johnathan grins. "I was the best that ever was. I was *born* ready." |
Death throws rock, I throw rock.
Death throws paper, I throw paper.
Death throws scissors, I throw scissors.
"Its very clear that this will take a while"
Ten years of stalemate go by, finally Death throws paper and I scissors.
Underneath his dark hood, Death whispers "You win."
I blink and find myself alone in a stale hospital room A soft yellow light is illuminating the eggshell white walls and recovery room decorations.
My head is swimming and my eyes hurt, but I did it. I finally beat death.
From the corner of the room I hear the click of the doorknob and see the sway of the door through my foggy vision. In walks the only company I've had for what seemed like an eternity. Death.
"Wait! You said you would give me 10 years!" I meekly sqweek recoiling to the headboard in horror.
"It has been ten years." says Death with a small chuckle.
"How could this be?" I mutter with shock and disbelief.
Death slowly moves his fleshless left hand in front of his torso open palmed and face up, than his right hand over his left in a skeletal fist.
"Two out of three?" | 2018-03-07T09:07:30 | 2018-03-07T07:40:40 | 55 | 18 |
[WP] Every inhabitable planet found by humanity was a dead world, with all life previously existing on it down to the smallest virus completely and utterly dead upon landing. Even more disturbing is the fact that some worlds appeared to have died extremely recently, down to days before human arrival | Val smiled as she flew in the dark emptiness, gossamer wings collecting the tiny drops of honey cast off by the distant sun. She was making good time, she noted, and will arrive hours ahead of schedule. Still, it was cutting it close. Generally, the plan was to arrive days, if not months, ahead of the sleepers. To be sure, hours was still minutes more than she would need to accomplish her mission.
Flying upwind, she shuddered as she crossed the termination shock. She welcomed the quiet exuberance as her wings collected more honey. Energy pulsed through her body, waking up systems held dormant during her flight through the 'in-between'. Val sneaked a glance backwards to search for the sleepers, but could not find them. *No worries*, she reassured herself, *I know they're back there somewhere. I just need to get there first*.
As she crossed into the Goldilocks zone, Val stretched out her hands and awakened the Wish Fulfiller, harvesting all that shined green and verdant, vibrant and vigorous, electrifying and sparkling. She drank her fill and basked in the glory of another successful mission. *The calling perseveres*, she reflected, *and the sleepers will continue to find nothing but isolation and despair*. *The calling persists*, she smiled, *and the sleepers will continue to be alone in this universe*. Val spread her gossamer wings and felt the radiant honey pour in from the sun. She found the sleepers now, in their tiny acorn capsule made from iron and blood, and she looked upon them with pity, so alone in the universe. | The first planet we colonized was proxima centauri, it was there we found no intelligent life, but we did find buildings that were 100s of years old but no body's, just buildings.
We then went of and colonized 5 other planets in the span of 17 years, but not once did we find intelligent life, just buildings.
But the most confusing part is the buildings are slowly becoming less and less older as we find more planets.
But alas I am on my death bed and I fear I may be gone here soon so I would like to say one thing that we are all thinking, why are they running? | 2019-12-09T09:06:20 | 2019-12-09T07:07:41 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] Write a love letter to someone without them knowing until the very end. | Nobody understands what I've got.
Everybody guesses, but most of them are wrong.
Very often I find it on my mind, always there.
Even in my dreams I am never sad.
Rare as a golden sapphire, but worth so much more.
Giving me the strength I never thought I had, and more.
Oh, how I want to surrender myself completely.
Nothing can tear me from this happiness.
Naught, not even death could quench this fire.
Are any that I see as true as I?
Guarding themselves, never sharing or risking pain,
I pray that they find what I have found.
Verily, I pray for all of them, in brotherly spirit, even though I lack religion.
Everyone deserves a chance at happiness such as this.
Years may pass, and grapes may turn to wine,
One year to two, the strength and wonder grows,
Unless neglect does bring a sour taste
Unto the pallet of the unsuspecting.
Perhaps this state was not meant for eternity,
Now, even fleeting, it is more than life is worth.
Ere the final grain of that hourglass of fate should fall,
Victory shall be grasped and the future commanded.
Even if the world should stand against my wish,
Rigorous I will stand in defence of the truth.
Go, and tell the turks and moors and men of the new world,
One son of man has found happiness.
Not in knowledge or in certainty,
Not in power or in wealth,
All of those pale in comparison to true beauty.
Let the angels ring the bells of joy,
Even now the bells toll in my ear,
Too soon, and yet not soon enough,
You read these words and hold them to your breast,
Over weeks they have travelled to you,
Under mountains, over seas,
Down the violent crags and rents of the Earth,
Over the very clouds and stars themselves.
Woe unto the faithful, who read thus far,
Now read the first letter of every sentence.
| This is a postcard. It was made to fly a thousand miles across a transcontinental ocean to arrive in your hand and tell you the weather's sunny in Philadelphia. I hope that information is useful to you because I honestly don't think this side of the letter is going to be better. No one ever lined up to write down quotes from deserters so I'll score these letters down like marks on a tree from a blind man hoping against hope that the next stranger he meets will be too indifferent to read them. The words on the tree say he'll see you again soon.
It doesn't make sense to say that I'm sorry because the only apology I could make is the ticket home aboard a passenger jet but you and I both know my grief is not half as strong as my cowardice and if I could tear just one thought from my head and give it to you it would be this:
Wish you were here. | 2015-01-12T15:02:53 | 2015-01-12T13:42:14 | 47 | 16 |
[WP] Write a terrible piece of emo fanfiction. Really make me cringe.
Bonus points if you can do it *WITHOUT* typos or bad grammar. | We all heard a new student was coming to Krystal Beth high school.
I didn't care, I was too busy thinking of the ways the world went wrong; how the preppy girls and the dimwitted jocks around me continued to buy into the capitalistic fantasy-land made by greedy millionaires tore at my heart, not that I cared. I was truly alone.
Suddenly the doors flipped open and **she** through. Raven-colored black leather boots pounded against the floor in an unconformist rhythm leading up to her curvy legs dressed in skintight fabric that was as dark as a midnight raven, one swish of her hips could sent a thousand puritans into a boiling rage foaming at the teeth with biblical verses, Her raven black jacket contrasted nicely against her raven black t-shirt that displayed my favorite band, raven black hair curled like inky tentacles across her face which was as pale and beautiful as an albino raven.
She prompt her feet up against the desk and read her favorite Edgar Allen Poe tale of woe, *The Raven* .
My heart pieced me and ached for me to talk to her, I finally had enough and got up from my seat. I headed down the row of seats as thousands of students scowled at our forbidden love.
"Hey, my name is Eldridge, not that it's conformist or anything."
Her raven black pupils turned to me and cut through me like daggers, her lips curled into a smile and she said......
"CAW CAW CAW"
then she flew away. It took me a few seconds to realized that she was actually a raven this entire time. I collapsed in heartbreak as everyone laughed their cruel laughs at me. This is what Emos face on a daily basis. | "What are you writing?"
I looked up from my journal and fell into the rich, deep chocolate eyes of the slim, brunette in front of me. They stole into my soul as twin divining rods doused for water; liquid gold from some European confectioners, set into the porcelain skin and delicate features of a china doll.
"It's my account of this daily torturing," I replied. "I want to capture and record life as it occurred, feel the moment, embrace and condemn it, anything as long as I experience it."
"I express through my art," she told me. "I know what you mean, I need the pain of this existence, otherwise what's the point?"
She knew me, we had connected, I read her my thoughts and she would express them, she gave physical form, manifesting my ache.
-025 | 2014-02-09T18:51:37 | 2014-02-09T18:31:29 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] "You fool!" cackled the Dark One, "No man can kill me!" "But I am no man!" bellowed the hero, as he unhinged his jaw. A grotesque sound filled the hall as they hacked up impossibly large balls of cloth. Unfurling, they stand and announce "For we are actually three trench coats in a halfling!" | Time takes a lot out of you, so when you've lived as long as I have it only becomes even more true by the day. I had seen a lot of things in the centuries that I have lived; witnessed whole kingdoms disappear to the wear of time, watched great leaders rise and fall. Some great ones fall to such meager things as illness or brain rot. Some petty men rise only because the latter had died.
I remembered names that even the books had since forgotten. Some that even I, in my position, would call great men. But *this* shit? I had never seen anything even near the realm of this.
When the little guy had first entered I thought it was a joke. *Him* take on *me*? My reign was ever eternal, ever night, while he was a 3 foot 2 manlet with a chin as soft as my thrones upholstery. So I humored the little guy. I mean, he had managed to make it passed my legionnaire, he at least deserved my speech.
You fool!" I had cackled, "No man can kill me!"
"But I am no man!" he bellowed in confidence, mouth unmoving. Which I thought was weird, but then the really strange shit started. He bent over, limp as a corpse, and started hacking up a lung. I watched frozen in horror as from his mouth a tan sleeve fell loose, then more and more of a coat until a whole impossibly large bundle of cloth was produced in a wad.
"Well that was rather distur-" I had yelled down
"But wait! Theres more!" he replied, and we sat five more minutes as he produced two more coats from his mouth before the halfling body fell in a loose pile of skin.
"For we are actually three trench coats in a halfling!" The coats announced as they unfurled and stood. I remember how proudly they said it, as if they'd done anything other than just disturb me for the rest of my years. Each one drew a weapon and held it in their limp sleeves ready to face me, but me? Oh, I got the hell out of there. I came straight here.
Across the room a skeleton wearing a broken pair of glasses looked to me with empty sockets. I felt silly on the couch again, but Burgees had been the best therapist in life and I needed him now more than ever.
"So, where are they now?" he asked with a voice like a strong wind.
I gestured to the door at the far wall, and behind it I could hear the sounds of those things. Those coats running around in my lair. One knocked on the door. "Are you in here evil doer? Come out and fight us!"
"No I'm not, so just...fuck off with you."
A long silence was the reply. Burgees adjusted his glasses with a bony hand.
"So do you have a plan?"
"Plan? Burgess I just saw some of the most fucked up shit in my life. I think im retired. Plus that old lady a few hundred years ago, remember her? She said I'd be defeated by *men of the cloth* at the time I thought she meant a priest or something, but this seems to be them."
"Oh...ok. I guess Ill go with you then." hearing him say that gave me a bit of comfort. Burgees had always been a loyal friend, and I'd need him for the next chapter of my life.
But suddenly I felt a sharp pain shoot through my stomach. Upon looking down a bloodied, thin piece of metal potruded from me, blood dripping down the blade. A rapier, pushed cleanly through me. Behind me the voice of a trenchcoat spoke. "Haha! Got you evildoer. You didn't even hear me come in did you!"
"Ho- how did you.." I pushed out the words through my pain.
"Slipped under the door! I bet you didn't expect that!" for emphasis the coat then yanked the rapier out from my stomach.
I looked over to the thin crack under the door where two more trenchcoats were pushing their way in. It was right. I had not noticed. One coat pulled Burgees down to his chair, strapping him in using its sleeves. I turned to face the other.
"Wha-what the fuck are you."
"Im glad you asked!" It leaned in close, placing a tan sleeve on my shoulder. The voice emanated from somewhere beneath the buttons. "We were three trenchcoats in a halfling, but now? Now I think we'll be three trenchcoats in an Evil Lord."
The coat climbed up my body, forcing open my clenched jaw with a sleeve. As I faded away the last thing I felt was the cloth choking me as it went down. | The Dark Lord’s first reaction was, surprisingly, mirth. He thought the heroes had simply misspoken. Three halflings in a trench coat was an uncommon archetype, but nothing he’s never heard of.
As such, imagine the simultaneous mix of revulsion and fascination that welled from within him, like a snowball so yellow that it passed the invisible, but commonly agreed-on valley of distaste right into the hellish depths of morbid curiosity.
The three trench coats were utterly drenched with sticky fluids, smelling like something fishy that had been left to dry in the sun and then promptly forgotten about. They were black. Or at least, the Dark Lord hoped they were black, and not some colour that has since been dyed improperly.
The halfling that once stood before him bravely was now sprawled on the ground, his jaw in a state that can only be described as too open. The chest heaved and ho, indicating a modicum of life still inside him.
The Dark Lord, who had a gigantic god complex since he was little, then chose to invoke a blasphemous name in his complete shock.
“What in god’s name is this abomination?”
The trench coats stood. Sat. Laid? Somehow, they were upright with nothing to support them. One collar started flapping incessantly.”
“We are trench coats,” a muffled voice came through the middle coat. “Fairly common around these parts.”
“I’m sorry, but I am physically convulsing from the sheer, visceral disgust, like thousands of bugs crawling about in my bloodstream—which, trust me, is a torture so horrendous that I’ve kindly elected to keep it out of my personal torture dungeon,” the Dark Lord gagged. “Talking trench coats. Hacked from a halfling’s poor, undersized throat. And you call yourself common?”
“Hey,” the right coat complained. “Don’t bring race into this. We’ve had a hard time trying to make others take us seriously.”
“Race?” the Dark Lord whispered, bewildered. “You are—”
“You are deliberately misunderstanding the point, Dark Lord!” the middle coat shouted again, to vigorous collar flaps from the other two. “We are no men! And we are here to take you down!”
“Trench coats,” the Dark Lord shook his head. “I don’t see how you can…”
The coats started trudging towards him, the bottom of their floating coats barely swishing the floors. The Dark Lord was prepared to simply laugh, then burn every bit of thread up with the strongest fireballs he could muster.
Which he did. He was a powerful being. It came with being named the Dark Lord. It took a certain amount of prestige and ability to simply being known by a sole title that no one else dared to claim.
The trench coats, unfortunately, could not stand against fire that sprouted from every which where, hotter than the average hellfire pillar. The Dark Lord would know—the devil often tried to obtain this very spell for himself.
But as the coats burned, the Dark Lord had the audacity to breathe in deeply, in preparation for a solid sigh of satisfaction.
The smell had spread. Even the choking ash paled in comparison. What wafted through the air now was something so pungent that it would have killed a lesser man.
In the Dark Lord’s case, he stumbled to grab hold of a nearby pillar. He struggled against the innate desire to breathe deeply, in order to prevent himself from drowning from the inhuman odour that now spread across the room.
That day, the Dark Lord did not die.
But he gained a new nightmare. Something which no hero had ever done before.
And he realized—sometimes, even gods can cry themselves to sleep in a room filled with lavender incense to drown out the smelly memories.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-11-05T14:58:02 | 2022-11-05T14:36:58 | 208 | 67 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | The ambassador, grey and hunched, wore a tired expression.
His cane clicked rhythmically as he stepped up to the dais in the council chamber.
He drew from his coat two envelopes, one sealed with wax.
Breaking the seal he looked at the contents and winced before looking at the other sheet.
"At 1.32AM this morning, we received official notification that this galactic security council had issued a resolution sanctioning Vasudan takeover of the Sol system for the purposes of mining rare minerals."
"At 1.41AM this morning, with 9 minutes notice of the declaration of war, Earth was virus bombed by Vasudan forces, killing 98% of the human population."
"At 2.41AM this morning, the dead-man switch controlling our weapons systems triggered."
Around the room whispers started as translators were interrogated about the meaning of "deadmans switch".
"At 11.43AM this morning 17,000 hybrid FTL impactor missiles finished their real-space acceleration stage repeatedly FTL jumping away from the edge of the event horizon of a black hole until they reached 99.93% of c realspace with enough energy to shatter a planetary core."
"At that point any possibility of halting our counterstrike passed as the weapons entered FTL towards their targets"
A shout erupted from one of the tables "17,000? do you intend to target every Vasudan ship individually?"
Pain crossed the old mans face for a moment.
The ambassador paused and looked up, changing to a lecturing tone.
"*When we joined this chamber with observer status we provided information detailing our planets history. Sadly I don't believe those here chose to peruse it. May I suggest searching for the keywords 'mutually assured destruction'*"
"No. Each impactor is targeted at a different planet. *All* worlds and colonies belonging to *all* members of this council who sanctioned the attack on earth."
Shouts of outrage filled the room. "When!??"
The ambassador looked at his watch "approximately 9 minutes from now" | Because we were soft skinned and void of claw and fang they named us weak. Because we preferred to speak before strike they named us cowards. We knew death, known it since we took our first upright steps, an old friend, a constant companion. Their immortal kings of star and sky had forgotten. So we taught them. We knew they would come, eventually. So when they did, we were ready. Millions upon millions of them. Their way was to pillage and steal, ours was not. They though first of money and resources, of tangible things. We do not. And that is why they never used it, the forbidden power. That which kills without hesitation, and without remorse. In their tongue, "that which erases". In ours, antimatter. Their millions came, and they were erased. Utterly and completely. Their energy cast out into the dark to serve as warning for those who would follow. | 2019-11-24T21:24:32 | 2019-11-24T17:36:40 | 31 | 19 |
[WP] Everyone who dies is granted levels in heaven depending on their actions before they died. Your famous grandmother got level 64 after she died and has since been constantly reminding her friends about how useless of a grandchild you are. Then one day, after 80 years, you show up, level 3008. | "Hey Fran. I heard that grandson of yours is coming up. You gonna give him an earful about being kind to others?"
"Oh, you just know I am Debbie. You know me, I was kind to everyone I met, even the unpleasant people. And I got level sixty-four before it was my time. I haven't seen him do anything down there for anyone beyond holding the door for someone. That'll probably get him level three after a lifetime."
Debbie chuckled, "If that. Lets see what the big man gave him score wise. Maybe he did some things we didn't notice and he'll get a five." Fran scoffed in disbelief. They watched the big screen as names flashed across until they saw the name they were looking for. Adrian Yew: In process.
"They're probably trying to find at least a few instances so they can give him a pity level. I feel like if they looked hard enough they could have bumped me up to sixty-five. As if I needed it." Debbie silently agreed, eyes on the screen.
Adrian Yew: 3008.
Both of their mouths dropped in shock. They sat there staring, mouths agape as they tried to grasp the number on the screen. They stared for so long, the person in question approached them without their notice.
"Heya Gran. Missed you." He smiled, a big toothy grin, that would have warmed their day if they hadn't still been in a stupor.
"How?" Fran uttered, needing answers.
"Oh, yeah. I heard you held the record for a long time. Sorry to break that for you. The big guy told me I won based on the quality of the points as opposed to the quantity."
Still, they stood, unmoving. Not quite understanding what that could mean. So Debbie asked.
"But, what's that mean?"
*"It means"* spoke a voice that everyone knew from the depths of their souls. *"That while Fran may have engaged it more acts of kindness; Adrian did so without intentions to benefit from said kindness. He expected nothing in return. Nothing to reap from what he sowed. He was kind to people who showed him hatred. He showed love to those who would shun him. He gave without expecting to receive. When he showed kindness, it was in secret ways that were not known by the recipients. A quarter in a meter. An anonymous note left on a desk. A kind word from a stranger these are the ultimate forms of kindness. That is why he shall receive riches beyond compare. Fran knew of my love and my promise from a young age, and acted with kindness knowing I would repay her in my Kingdom. Adrian did not know me until he was already an old man and had seen the hatred of the world. Still he showed his love to a world that gave him none, but still persisted until he realized the truth of the life. Upon his death he received life, and the kindness he showed will be returned tenfold. As was promised.*"
Fran sat stunned, humbled before both the booming Voice and the lesson she learned. She had thought she was done learning when she died, but now she knew she was still but a disciple. She stepped forward and embraced her grandson who had surpassed her. "I'm proud of you." She whispered, ashamed at her ealier thoughts of him. "You're a better person than me."
He shook his head, "I am no better or worse than anyone. You are who you are and I am who I am. You should never try to be anyone other than yourself. You are the way He made you. I love you, Gran."
Her tears spoke louder than she ever could. | In life, you can gain points, for every 7 points you gained a level, which was shown upon an afterlife scoreboard that was hard to miss. In life certain actions gives you points that will, in the afterlife, give you a level, how the system works seems somewhat random. But it seems to be based on merits you have gained in life.
My Grandmother was a famous model in her youth, and fought for equity for everyone in this nation she was proud to be born in, she died poor, but loved. Having spent all her fortune on trying to solve the problem, the day after she died, every newspaper, both printed and online, every news source how amazing she was in life, she had beaten out several people who changed the nation for the better, and was in the top 10 000, something few managed to do, while for others she was a symbol of equity, to me she was a symbol of stress.
"When will you go back to school?", "Are you looking for a job?", "Why do you not have a girlfriend yet, when I was your age I had 2 children!" and so on, while I was sad to see her die, I was also kinda happy.
I never did go back to school, I spent my time at home, mining various types of crypto currencies, changing them from on to the other, I was never really rich, but I had a nice computer, I had company on Discords, and i found entertainment in my games, tv-series and such.
This made it all the more odd that I died at the ripe age of 108, childless, but content with my life, I did watch the 1000 movies to watch before you die, I did empty my anime backlog, and i did put in at least 10 hours of playtime in every steam game I owned.
Dying was weird, and going to the afterlife was weirder, in front of me was my personal scoreboard, you look down
| Actions | Points |
|:-----------|------------:|
| Watch Every movie you wanted to see | 250|
| Watch Every anime you wanted to see | 250|
| Watch Every tv-series you wanted to see | 250|
| Player Every game in your steam library | 1000|
| Die with no regret | 150|
| Die happy | 100|
| Helping that old lady over the street | 1|
| Beating Dark Souls | 180|
| Dying | 5|
| Reddit Karma | 18875| | 2018-04-14T17:32:07 | 2018-04-14T14:57:18 | 665 | 382 |
[WP] You meet a genie that grants one wish. You wish to go back in time and change your biggest mistake. You get taken back to the time right before you made your wish. | My Biggest Mistake
I once did have a lamp,
which my Grand Pappy gave to me.
He said it granted wishes,
And that I should'na ask for kisses.
I took it from the shelf,
and rubbed it to a shine.
Thinking it was a tall tale.
That my Grand Pappy did design.
No sooner than I set it down,
Smoke rose from the end.
Slowly forming into a cloud,
It turned right into a D'jinn.
"Ho! What is that?," said I.
As my Grand Pappy grinned.
"See I told you was no lie,
"Don't look quite so surprised."
The great D'jinn bowed before me,
As I in shock just stared.
He stood a good head taller,
And had the size of a small bear.
"If you could have one wish,
to fulfill your strongest need,
What would that wish be?"
The D'jinn asked of me.
Should I wish for world peace?
Or should I ask for True Love?
Or be selfish and wish for money,
Or all of the above?
No I had but one wish,
One route I could but take.
To use my wish wisely,
And fix my biggest mistake.
I asked of him, my simple request.
He nodded his head and said,
"I shall do as you ask, Master.
Your wish is my command."
There was a loud whoosh,
As if the air had all suddenly left.
It did not take me long to deduce.
I had been returned.
Time had been rewound,
To the moment before my wish.
I had but a second,
To take it all in.
The lamp in hand,
My Grand Pappy's grin.
The D'Jinn stood before me.
And he asked me again.
"If you could have one wish,
to fulfill your strongest need,
What would that wish be?"
The D'jinn said to me.
I knew right then,
My biggest mistake had been,
Requesting a wish,
Of this powerful D'jinn.
I smiled at him and said,
I wish you to be free,
And have to give no more wishes.
To the likes of me. | As I looked at her, and her trusting, expectant eyes, still so full of life, I suddenly realized that the unknown of what I would become frightened me more than death.
I could now change what I'd done in a moment. But I'd never really been able to change me. I was still as self-centered as always. I would still choose me first, eventually.
If I didn't say those words, I would have to change. I knew, suddenly, that she was destined for death or pain, no matter what I did.
As I closed my eyes, I saw her face in the casket. I felt her being ripped from me as she was lowered into the ground.
I opened my eyes and smiled. I kissed her. She held me tightly.
I turned around.
And I walked in front of the bus that I'd seen in my nightmares a thousand times.
The bus that she had run in front of, crying, after I'd told her I was leaving.
The bus that had once taken her life...would give her the only chance for happiness.
Without me. | 2016-09-25T08:48:42 | 2016-09-25T07:47:06 | 57 | 14 |
[WP]You keep getting kidnapped by the biggest Supervillain on the planet. The Superheroes of the world think it's because you're important, however, it's really because the Villain really likes talking to you. You know this but you can't tell anyone because if you do people will get hurt worse.
You can take this story in one of two ways; 1) The Superheroes are talking to you about this series of kidnappings and trying to figure out what is actually going on or 2) This is the day when you selfishly try to get out of this situation as cleanly as possible. | Johnny's mom had always told him not to talk to strangers. However, she made no mention of what he should do if a Super Villain burst through the roof of his elementary school, threw him over his shoulders, and took him for a joy ride over the skyscrapers of New York. So all Johnny could do was to cry. After all, this was already the 4th time this had happened.
The roar of wind stopped and Johnny opened his eyes to find himself in a damp darkness. Water dripped onto the ground from, echoing throughout the building. It looked like an abandoned factory. Johnny sneezed.
"Hey," came the voice of The Pyro Lunatic. Though it wasn't the high-pitched and crazed screeching he had heard from television screens. It came deep and soft. "Put this on, you'll get a cold."
A blanket draped over Johnny's shoulders and The Pyro Lunatic clinched Johnny's nose between some tissues. It always ended up like this. The Pyro Lunatic would crash through the building of wherever Johnny was with crazed laughter, setting afire to everything around him. But in the privacy of whatever hideout he took Johnny to, his voice, his demeanor, even his face would change. No longer would he have his signature wide-mouthed and forced smile. He looked almost normal.
"How was your day?" The Pyro Lunatic asked.
Johnny sniffled. "Good."
"Oh, you're still cold. Give me a second." A small fire sprouted between them. "Is that better?"
Johnny nodded. He wondered how long it would take this time for the heroes to barge in here, kick some pyro butt and save him.
"How's school going? Are you doing well?"
Another nod.
"And Cindy? Is she doing well?"
That was Johnny's mom. He nodded.
The Pyro Lunatic returned him a small chuckle. "That's good to hear." His voice faded.
Only the crackling of the flame sounded between them and the occasional echo of water dripping into water. Through the dancing fire, Johnny could see The Pyro Lunatic's eyes staring, his lips pressed together as he tried thinking of more questions to ask.
"Mr. Pyro Lunatic?" Johnny said.
The Pyro Lunatic eyes widened. This was the first time Johnny had voluntarily talked to him.
"Why do you keep kidnapping me? Am I special?" Johnny asked.
"Of course you are, John. Why? Did someone tell you that you aren't?"
Johnny shook his head and said, "I mean like, do I have super powers like Righteous Man and you?"
"No!" The Pyro Lunatic snapped.
Johnny jumped and scooted back. The Pyro Manic's face flushed red and he glanced at the ground.
"Sorry," he said, his voice soft again. His eyes swelled with tears. "No, Johnny, you're completely normal. You don't have to worry about heroes or villains or any of that. You can live a completely normal life."
"So why do you keep kidnapping me?"
"Because..." The Pyro Lunatic's mouth moved but no words came out. He gave up with a sigh and instead asked, "are you getting along with Cindy?"
Johnny nodded. "Yeah, she has a new boyfriend now. He gives me candy when he comes over."
The fire between them dimmed.
"A new boyfriend?" A sad smile spread across The Pyro Lunatic's mouth. He gave Johnny a slight nod. "That's good. Does she... does she ever talk about her last boyfriend? You know... your dad?"
"She said he was a no-good crazy person and I shouldn't talk to him if I see him."
The Pyro Lunatic coughed out a laugh and wiped his eyes. Now, he was the one sniffling. "She's right," he said, "Cindy's a smart woman and you should always listen to your mother. Don't worry John, the heroes should arrive any minute now, they'll take you back home safe and sound."
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more!
| **So.. we meet again, MISTER NORMAN DUNSTON!**
Why do you bother me so, Robot Jerry Seinfeld?
**Because I am the most evil of all the supervillains. Some say, I'm the super villainist! (Seinfeld theme plays)**
Oh make it stop! You were not programmed for this!
**I was not, you are correct. It was 2025, the technology was suddenly available, a target audience still very much alive, it was a no brainier.**
A no brainier, Jerry!
**That's right, George. I mean, Norman. A perfect robot replica, ready to make a 21st century version of the hit TV show. Finally, Seinfeld with cell phones. No more crazy mix-ups. We just text each other.**
Which is why the show failed.
**Oh, it was a failure, all right. And they spent all their budget on Robot Jerry, aka me. We had to get the rest of the cast in the flesh, and at their present ages, it didn't work. Plus Michael Richards died during filming of the fourth episode, when his manic entrance made him slam his head on the ground.**
That was sad.
**Yeah, that's a shame. But me, I am immortal! And that's a lot of money, so they put me to work in porn. Which makes sense. It's one less person to pay and I have a nine inch robot penis. A weird detail the inventor threw in, I don't know why. None the less, I did adult films for the next 200 years. In fact, I eclipsed the filmography of the real Seinfeld so many years ago it's a miracle anyone remembers him.**
It is, really.
**But after my 50,000th porn film, I was like 'Whats the deal with reverse cowgirl?' So I quit and became an evil genius. Stealing money from the government, blowing up Fort Knox, fucking Batman on live television, and becoming the president of the world with my hypno ray.**
So why kidnap me? A lowly dentist?
**Because you're fun to talk to.**
I am.
**Yes! You talk the talk?**
I do.
**Yes, you do. Say it.**
I talk the talk.
**You talk the talk.**
Yeah. Yeah, you're right, Robot Jerry Seinfeld. I DO talk the talk.
**But do you walk the walk?**
Oh, I *walk* Jerry.
**You talk the talk, you walk the walk, you're a talkie-walkie.**
You're right, Robot Jerry Seinfeld!
**Well this was fun. We'll do this again next week. I have to go and hold the world hostage. Again.**
What do you want this time?
**Our table at the Chinese restaurant. That and 500 billion dollars**
I'm out!
(freeze frame) (studio audience applause) (theme music) (executive producer credit)
| 2017-05-24T22:31:19 | 2017-05-24T21:51:30 | 1,753 | 35 |
[WP] You develop a strange sixth sense: every person who has ever killed someone now has a bright crimson aura that only you can see. | I'm not one to subscribe to the supernatural but when my vision, 'upgraded' to it's new state, I've come to accept that life is a bag of unknown bullshit. We can only see so little.
You see, I can see people's auras. To be more specific, I can see the aura of murderers. If a person has taken a life, my eyes would see the light crimson glow envelope them. The more they've killed, the brighter they shine.
It makes no sense to me, and honestly, I think I am alright with that. It did take a while to get accustomed to the new take on life but life went on, I guess. I took sunglasses everywhere I went as a caution against the odd surprise killer popping out of the candy store, or Walmart.
I have to confess though. No, I didn't report to the police or offer my services. And no, I didn't become some sort of private investigator/vigilante. I also didn't go reading law so I could get into the profession. All I know is that skill was cool and I left it at that.
The only reason why I'm even discussing this now is because, I have been seeing the aura more and more. I mean, some days I'm unlucky enough to be surrounding by ex-klansmen but that's not what this is.
While it is mildly jarring to see a crimson aura around an old grizzled racist, it is terrifying to see it around a kid no older than 5.
And as of the writing of this, I have seen a school worth of crimson glowing kids, playing and running around. Till they all stopped to face me.
And smile. | Due to it being a military event, I wasn't surprised to see a great number of red glows throughout the neatly ordered crowd. Then something really strange happened. The whole area started to slowly gain a red hue. It darkened over time. After several minutes I came to the realization that someone with an impossibly huge aura was getting closer. I searched for the epicenter of this ocean of blood. Barely discernible through the thick crimson haze was a long black vehicle. Several men in suits gave away the occupant before he even emerged. Truman had arrived for his speech. | 2018-02-06T07:29:13 | 2018-02-06T07:11:57 | 60 | 19 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear Omar,
I know, I know. The last thing you wanted was your obituary to read "...an Oakland Man." I was telling some of my other friends that despite the fact we'd only been close friends for something like a couple years, you were someone that I would've wanted in the groom's party when I eventually got married. I don't share feelings easily, but with you it always felt okay.
I've moved to LA. I left Rdio that October. You'll be happy to know that Darrell and Raquel have bought my old place. They actually stay in the room you were in; they've converted the master bedroom to a gym.
Oh right! I finally went to Coachella. Your father had expressed to me, with tears in his eyes, how happy you seemed from all of the pictures you'd taken on your phone. I couldn't stop thinking of you and how you were always so easy with everyone. Totally understand what you loved about the music festival scene, now that I've gotten a few under my belt.
I try to live my life the way you did: always enjoying the moment, truly! These days I also chastise people for texting while driving. I have to confess to checking my phone at lights, sometimes. The traffic is just so bad here.
Oh! Also, I don't know if you know this happened, but your brother, or was it a cousin? He got super proselytizy at your memorial service, and left a small stack of pocket bibles for everyone. Your father kind of yelled at him to stop after a little while... it was kind of awkward.
I had to unfriend you on Facebook, sorry about that. Someone in your family had taken to using your phone, and hadn't deleted messenger, so it would show you as online, and after a while I just couldn't take it any more.
I think that's it... Every year, around that time in April, memories come up; you were such a brilliant light in our lives, and we miss you, and will continue to miss you.
Your friend always,
kevin | Dear J,
Hey J, it's me. For the sake of your privacy I'm going to omit your name like I always do when I mention you. But, I miss you. And I really fucking hate that I miss you. When I was with you, I felt like somebody, I felt like someone who had a(in my mind) foreseeable future. I haven't found anybody like you and I recently finally got over you. Without you in my life I feel like I'm adrift in an open sea, and I see an island in the distance growing smaller and starting to fade away. I have no drive in my life. I've pretty much stopped writing for fun, I have no passion, no drive, no goals for any future. Most nights I just want to find some isolated place and drink myself to death. I tried crying, but I could never manage to make any tears at all. I know, I should hate you for what you did. And most of me does, but every night, when I close my eyes, you're always on my mind.
Fuck you and with regards,
Dalrey_Wil | 2017-11-05T22:20:06 | 2017-11-05T22:17:00 | 78 | 16 |
[WP] When you kill someone, all the time they had left in their life is added onto yours. | I am one of the most wanted men in the world. Kings and emperors and presidents and dictators have all first tried to hire me and then tried to kill me. It happens without fail. I have met Genghis Khan and Hitler and Mao and Alexander the Great and Attila. They were all convinced I am the most dangerous man in the world, so they hire me as a hitman to bring them the head of their enemies. And each time, I say no, and then they decide they want to kill me instead. Go figure.
I don't say no out of spite or because I don't have time. I have too much time, in fact. I say no because killing somebody terrifies me and I can't bring myself to do such evil.
You see, my story starts several thousand years ago. And it's really a pretty short story. Each time I am about to die, I kill myself. And don't ask me if it's a glitch in the matrix or just some Easter egg God decided to slip into his little experiment, but killing myself adds the time I had left to the time I have left, and all of a sudden I've doubled the length of my life.
Who would have ever thought it? In a world where nobody commits suicide because immortality is just a kill away, the only true immortal is the one who kills himself. I've come close to dying plenty of times, but I always manage to put a sword through my chest or a bullet through my head and then pretend I'm dead until my would-be killers leave.
I haven't even killed anybody. To be honest, I'm a complete coward, and if you ask me, I would even say I'm a pretty friendly fellow. All of these great and powerful men are convinced I am the most ruthless killer known to man, but the only person I have ever killed is myself. I hate this life, and I truly wish my attempts at suicide would work, but I can't bear to let somebody else kill me and be cursed with this damned immortality I've managed to acquire. | After a thousand years, life starts to get boring.
It's not my fault all those deaths were attributed to me, I just gave the order to push the damned button and be done with the stupid war.
What I didn't realize was that a nuclear strike didn't just off depressed nine-to-fivers and old people, but children ready to live long, fulfilling lives. Ancient, chain smoking diabetics who were going to give Death the middle finger and live another thirty years. Not to mention all of the people who died of radiation poisoning and raids even years later.
What do you do in a thousand years? Well, not shit when the world is an irradiated wasteland. I tried doing the grand pilgrimage, from coast to coast, and it's all the same from DC to LA. Even now, when humanity has rebuilt itself, the world is fucked outside of cities.
The worst part is, they all know I'm the one who did it.
Maybe this is my divine punishment. *God* knows that Hell would be better. | 2015-11-22T18:36:41 | 2015-11-22T18:29:23 | 38 | 12 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | I remember asking my mom if her sigil vibrates on her skin. The look of confusion told me what I felt I already knew. My circle, though plain, feels alive.
There were no issues in elementary school, nor middle school. It was junior high that brought my happiness with my humming sigil to a screeching halt.
Victor began to torment me. No one, not even the teachers, stopped him. Day after day I came home wishing to cease my existence. During each fight, each punch, my sigil hummed faster. It even glowed red once, or was it my distorted vision from the punches?
"Failure of a man is what you are! Who is so cursed that they have no powers, huh? Show me your powers, ya bitch!" His mark reminded me of Cerberus, the dog that protected Hades. Thick and ugly, just like him; powerful fists that pound me into the ground. I took it, the punches and taunts, day after day. The nurse patching me up afterwards, while Victor was "lectured".
I went home, contemplating ending my life. It's just too much, and today he had broken several bones. The "Welcome home Sarge" sign in the yard made my heart drop.
My dad is home from the war. I walk in to see my siblings oh so happy to meet the hero of the century, the man with the Griffin sigil. He looked at me with severe disappointment though, as if he could see the circle on my collar bone. It vibrated quicker as he stood up. "Get out of my sight."
"Daniel," mother shouted, "he is your son!"
"He's nothing."
I went to my room, the fight escalating downstairs. It took everything in me to push the tears down. "What do you do besides vibrate?" I asked, eyeing my empty sigil. My question was left unanswered, even as I laid in bed.
I am in no mood to handle Victor's taunts today, and honestly, I'm pretty sick of him. My father's words bouncing around in my head, to the point that I want to scream. His hand is what brings me out of my reverie.
"You answer when I speak to you! You're nothing afterall!"
"Nothing," I snarled, "then leave me alone. If I'm nothing, why waste your time?"
The punch hit the back of my head so hard, I blacked out. The only words I felt in my head, weren't my father's cruel words, or anyone else's, but help me. That's when lights of every color filled my vision. The warmth started from my collar bone, and went to my toes.
"Of course, I'll help. That's all you had to do-ask."
When I come to, there's a dragon in the hallway, half of Victor in its mouth. Brilliant colors shine on every scale, as opal eyes look at me.
"Uhhh... drop him." My voice is tentative, yet I feel like I know this creature. It obliges, and shrink down to wrap itself around my neck. As Victor stands up, it hisses at him, sending Victor into a corner. I simply walk away, with a smirk. They all wanted to know so badly, now I feel their regrets in finding out. While I'm elated.
I walk to my next class, as I feel the vibration return. My circle, not an empty thing after all. It was an egg. I look at my collarbone, and there, in my circle, is a dragon winking at me. | Another day and the same fucking asshole and his group of friends who pick on me. Using their powers to shock me or set my homework on fire was only the beginning. I've had to lie to my mother why I was coming home with burn marks on my arms. I hate lying to mother. They claim they'll stop harassing me if I show them my power, as if that would make them stop. I shouldn't use my power. Once I found out what I had done I didn't want to use it much after that. I didn't want to be kicked out of school for something I was given that I didn't ask for. However, just moments ago they started to hurt my friend. The only one who didn't seem to care about my sigil and think of me as weird for not using mine. It was time I did something to stop them. Perhaps they'll stop harassing me if I can scare them enough.
"Let him go, Ron!" I yelled.
"And what the hell are you gonna do about it? Use your power of hugs? Are you just gonna run in circles?" He said trying to hold back his laughter. His lackeys chucking with him. They continue to push my friend and singe his hair.
"Do you know what circles can represent?" I say. I wait for them to turn my way in response. As soon as I catch their glances I lose the whites of my eyes as my pupils seem to expand covering my entire eye.
I can see their wonder and why my eyes have turned black.
"Life." I hold my hand out and before anyone can say anything the bullies get to see Ron fall to the ground like a sack of potatoes. They both look down at him while the light in his eyes die out.
"You killed him!" Yelled one of them. The look of horror from each face that witnessed was enough for me to know that they would stop picking on me.
I close my eyes and open them again, this time my eyes shine white. Ron opens his eyes. His body weak as he struggles to stand. He fully stands up then bends over to throw up. He looks at me in fear. Without saying a word he understood.
"Let's go guys." Ron says weakly.
Before they leave the scene I stop them for a moment. "All that can be given can be taken away." My eyes turn back to the darkest night. All three of them start running away.
My eyes go back to normal. I let out a sigh of relief as my friend joins me and puts his hand on my shoulder. He looks up at me smiling and says, "I'm glad I'm on your side." | 2020-02-26T12:40:00 | 2020-02-26T10:00:37 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You have been thrown into a fantasy world of swords, magic, dragons and adventurers. You can't do magic, and have no sword skills, so to make your living you fall back on your college major, and set up shop as something that is unique in this world; a Psychiatrist. | Midgar sauntered into the room and looked around, disdain written clearly on his face. I didn't blame him. The ramshackle hut was adorned with various tools and torture implements, only recently vacated by the witch that was driven out of town during the last hunt. The only place I could get with absolutely zero funds, but maybe one day I could upgrade to a practice with an actual front door.
"What brings you here today, Hero of the Realm?" I asked. I learned very quickly that the heroes got very ornery if you didn't refer to them by their title at least once during a conversation - a possible need for validation bred by the culture of this land, but it would be unprofessional of me to draw such a conclusion without more research.
Midgar took the only other chair in the room and placed it right in front of me. Even sitting, he was a foot taller, his eyes sizing me up as if I would rush him with a dagger at any second. With the scars adorning his face, I can't imagine it would be the first time.
"I have heard that you can cure curses," he said.
"Of a sort, yes," I smiled. Realizing how vague my response was, I cleared my throat. "I can't cure physical ailments, but if you have other problems, I can try to help you."
Midgar scoffed, breaking eye contact. He crossed his arms and shut his eyes, murmuring to himself. After a minute or so, he opened them again. I waited for him to speak.
"I have a... problem," he said.
"What sort of problem are you dealing with," I said, grabbing a piece of parchment and quill pen from the nearby table.
"Recently, I've been experiencing a," Midgar paused, as he tried to find the correct words, "lack of want to do things. Like an unseen god is watching me, and when I set out to do something, he stops me."
"A lack of... motivation, perhaps?" I asked. Midgar nodded. "Tell me, when do you feel like this? Are their certain tasks that get you to feel this way?"
Midgar shook his head. As I began to write my notes, he said, "Well, maybe. When the King asks me to do something, the feeling comes much stronger."
"What kinds of things does the King ask you to do?"
"Save the princess, slay the dragon, lead the armies to war..." Midgar trailed off.
"Midgar, when did you start feeling this way?" He scratched his chin and looked up towards the ceiling, lost in thought. As the gears clicked into place in his head, he frowned and looked at me, reluctant to speak.
"If you're concerned about privacy, know that whatever you say to me stays in this room," I said. He shook his head.
"It started after the fall of Grand Wizard Marlacc," he said flatly.
Grand Wizard Marlacc, the man who almost singlehandedly destroyed the kingdom. He summoned hundreds of thousands of beings from different worlds to fight under his banners; coincidentally, that's how I ended up here, though I was lucky enough to get dropped near a human settlement.
Midgar and his party were sent to slay Marlacc, but only Midgar returned. Not the kind of memory one likes to have, I'm sure.
A Pyrrhic victory coupled with a loss of motivation towards large scale tasks and goals. A loss of control, perhaps? No, Midgar is a man which no other could challenge aside from Marlacc. Something... deeper.
"Midgar, are you familiar with the concept of hope?" I asked. He shook his head. "It's the feeling, the belief I should say, that one gets that says despite the odds, we will triumph, or that everything will be all right. I'm assuming you've felt this before?"
"Of course," Midgar said.
"When was the last time you had this feeling?"
"I don't remember." He leaned forward, listening intently.
"Midgar, you've suffered a trauma, the loss of your party. In spite of whatever hope you had going into that battle, you were let down. Perhaps because of that, every challenge you now face reminds you of that failure-" Midgar bristled, straightening his back to loom over me. "-in ways that you can't see or understand, and those reminders are stopping you from moving forward."
"If that's how it is, then fix it," Midgar said sharply, his pride seemingly insulted.
"I can't truly fix it for you, Midgar. What I can do, however, is help you fix it," I said. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for me to continue. "We'll start by building your confidence up some more. Try taking on smaller tasks, like defeating bandits or putting out fires or something."
"And this will help me?"
"It should, for now."
He stood up and walked towards the doorway before stopping and rifling in his pockets. Pulling out a gold coin, he flicked it my way. I didn't even bother attempting to catch it and embarrassing myself - there was a reason why I didn't take up the sword in this world.
We watched the coin hit the floor and roll until it stopped. I looked up a Midgar and smiled.
"See you next week." | It was another grey misty morning in Yerlagan. Dirokel, son of Tarathor the Great abruptly broke my small office's oak door.
I darted for my sword thinking it was an intruder. "Dirokel, what have you done?" I yelled at the top of my lungs when I saw his primal face peeking out through the fresh circle-shaped crack in my door.
He brusquely tried to get his big head out of the hole with no success. "Help Dirokel, help Dirokel" He yelled desperately, his head slowly turning tomato-red.
I set the sword aside and grabbed my real weapons, a pen and a piece of paper. I sat on my puffy chair, adjusted my glasses and crossed my left leg on top of the right one. "Dirokel, what did we talk last week about channeling your rage in the arenas instead of everywhere?" My right thumb pressed the top of my pen.
Dirokel's breath increased it's pace and his head seemed to be trembling with fear. "Doc, Dirokel heard the click of your Doomsday Pen." He said shivering.
I smirked, "Indeed, Dirokel. The session has begun." I drastically cracked my neck. "Tell me, why are you so upset?"
He heavily blew upwards trying to run his greasy blonde hair off his face, he failed. "Dirokel's deadliest opponent, Korokor humilliated Dirokel in the arena. Everyone laughed at Dirokel, Dirokel was upset so he destroyed many stores until Tarathor pulled Dirokel from his hairy ear." A gigantic tear splashed against my furry grey carpet.
My pen gently touched the paper and Dirokel's tremor got worse. "Could you please elaborate what happened in the fight?" I coughed in an attempt to hide my upcoming laughter.
"No, Dirokel is too embarrased, Doc will laugh at Dirokel like everyone else."
"I would never laugh at you, you are my patient, it's my job to help you and understand you."
Dirokel let out a unexpected roar. "Dirokel was facing Korokor in the most epic battle of all time, the greatest warrior dueling against the greatest wizard. Dirokel raised Dirokel's legendary sword, Alumbria working up the whole crowd while Korokor yawned. The epic clash started, Korokor didn't move so Dirokel charged at Korokor and when Alumbria was about to pierce Korokor's skinny face, it happened." Tears starting rolling down his cheeks like a waterfall.
"What happened?" I asked, paying extreme attention.
"Korokor teleported behind Dirokel and gave Dirokel a wedgie." Dirokel shouted, letting out a deafening scream of pain afterwards.
I took advantage of his ridiculuos scream to laugh like a maniac below my desk, I reached the point of soundless laughter. Dirokel's stories always were hilarious for me but tragic for him.
"Doc, are you still here or did Dirokel kill you with his magnificent Scream of Agony." He asked, sincerely concerned.
I was battling laughter with every fiber in my body, "I am alive Dirokel, don't worry. Listen, do you mind coming over again tomorrow? Something urgent came up." I lied, I just couldn't hold it anymore and if he heard me he would destroy everything.
"But, Dirokel is trapped forever in Doc's door of Eternal Suffering."
I sighed, "Use your arms Dirokel and destroy it, I won't charge you."
His right arm shattered the door into countless pieces. "Oh, thanks Doc, see you next week." He said as he left. The floor suffered with every one of his stomps.
I waved, "Tomorrow Dirokel, tomorrow. Try to not destroy anything on your way out." I yelled from the distance.
A resounding noise like concrete being obliterated echoed across the building.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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| 2017-06-15T13:11:00 | 2017-06-15T13:05:47 | 290 | 210 |
[WP] A man is banished to the wilderness for 20 years. Write his diary entries for his first and last days of exile. | Day 1:
Why am I here? How an I going to live? I don't think I'll survive. Oh well. Don't know why the fuck they gave me this journal.
Maybe it's an experiment. I wouldn't know. I'll develop some kind of system. I always do.
Meanwhile, I'll find out who those people are. Hopefully there will be clues. I'll have my revenge somehow. They gave me a very long lasting pen, a blank book, and an army knife. Those very items they gave me will be their end.
--------------------------------
LAST DAY HERE!!!
Full Moon Cycle: 239
Day Cycle: 29
Sun Cycle: about 5 hours
Reminders:
-MC:239 DC:29 is last day!
-Room 57 needs repairing. Water is
leaking.
-New wolf nearby. Keep watch.
-Stream is starting to flood a little bit. Reinforce walls built 12 moon cycles ago.
I hear them. They're coming. I've known it for years. They were testing people to find one strong enough. The clues were there. The Hollow is safe for me to live. I have a system that keeps me alive.
I'm in Room 48. One built (or dug) 5 moon cycles ago. It was my emergency room. It's got feathers and moss to keep it warm. Also a little entrance to the water system in case of emergencies. My original knife is here. I put it here, knowing full well that today will be the day I need it. For the first time in years.
I promised that the three items they gave me would be the items that lead to their demise.
My pen and book have kept my data safe through the years. They have helped me solve this mystery. My knife will be the one to touch their filthy hearts.
I'm prepared, but honestly, I haven't seen a human in years. Give me a fox, and I'll deal with it better than I would a human. Even if it might remind me of my distant memories with little Foxy.
Still better than a human.
They're getting closer- quickly. It won't be much longer.
I refuse to be their One.
I must leave now, with my knife in hand. These twenty years all come down to this. | Entry 1 Cycle 3
All they gave me was this journal, a pencil and a knife. I don't know why I'm writing in this. Maybe to cope with my sanity. Therapeutic shit. Whatever helps I guess. Who the fuck knows anymore. I'm going to find a way out of here. It's so hot here.
Notes:
- ~~18~~ 20 Hour day?
- The things with the flaps on their head have more meat than the things with the claws. Easier to catch too.
- Canyons are north of base camp.
- Sharpen knife ~~*every so often*~~ every day
- Nearest river is 302 steps east of base camp
- The flying fuckers have acidic shit, avoid if possible
-
Entry 7021 Cycle ~~10,000~~ ??
SOMEONE'S HERE
DREADNOUGHT
CRASH LANDed Probably
Maybe they CAN helP.
I hate this place
FUCK THIS PLANET, FUCK THE HEAT, FUCK YOU WARREN FUCK EVERYTHING
I'm going to find the People who Did this to Me, go To Their caMp and grind their bonEs into powdEr
IT"S SO HOT HERE
| 2015-05-16T14:50:07 | 2015-05-16T14:28:42 | 203 | 54 |
[WP] The reason she never called you back was because she was abducted by an alien civilization. She adapted, grew, and lead a rebellion to overthrow the tyrant that ruled there. Today she just texted that she wants to go out again.
Edit: This is the song that was playing when this popped in my head. Not sure if it will set the right mood for you or not.
[Disclosure - Help Me Lose My Mind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBW9VEE29W4) (link fixed now) | "All those years?" I was crying. "I missed you so much. I hated everybody. I took out my loss for you on them. Now you come back. Finally."
"Yes," she said firmly. "I promised I would always love you. I have fought everything to save the people I found myself amongst and when we made it they wanted to make me queen or something but I refused. I didn't want to govern anybody or anything. I wanted them to be free and that's self rule to me and I just wanted to come home to you."
"But it has been so long and it hurt so much," I stared into her eyes. "You might not like what I have become."
"We can fix anything," she insisted. "I set the space ship to trace you and bring me straight to you. You are everything to me and now I have you again."
"But I'm changed," I was holding my head in my hands. "You deserve better. Much better."
"You aren't married," she looked suddenly worried. "Or in a relationship or something are you?"
"No, No," I said, "There could never be anybody but you. I could never love anybody else."
"So what have you done with your life?" she brightened up. "You seem to have a pretty nice place here."
I drew a deep breath. She had to know. "I am James the Imperator," I said. "I am Absolute ruler of the whole Earth. Well. All that is left after my wars of conquest." | "So you're telling me, you got abducted, overthrew the alien tyrant, and you escaped by the skin of your teeth?"
"Yup"
"And that's why you didn't call me back?"
"Yup"
"I..I don't think this is gonna work"
He stood up from the table threw down a twenty, "That's for the check", and walked out the doorway.
She brought her hand to her ear, "Attempts to seduce humans have failed, prepare a kidnapping"
And then she was gone. | 2014-11-11T12:04:58 | 2014-11-11T11:32:33 | 313 | 88 |
[WP] You don't sleep. Instead you die every day and 8 hours later you wake up in the body of a person who has 16 hours left to live. | They say people lose a third of their lifetime to sleep. I live an entire lifetime in less than a day.
"Doc, what should I do?"
I paced around the room as I waited for an answer.
Doctor Cain adjusted his glasses slowly before fixing me with a contemplative stare. "I'm sorry but before I can answer any of your questions Jenny... That is the name of the body you are in right now, correct?"
I nodded. This time I was a woman barely into my twenties and already my body wore more piercings and tattoos then all my previous lives combined.
Doctor Cain paused for a moment before asking the question I knew was coming.
"What was your name yester-"
"Rick. Rick Crawver," I said sharply.
"And the day before?"
"Tamara Turner."
"And before that?"
"Bobby Santiago, Owen Arhshad, Shinji Naka-"
"Alright, alright, that's enough," he waves his hand, before adjusting his glasses again. "Now tell me Jenny... How much time does she have left?"
Jenny? Right. That's my name now. I swallowed as I tried to remember the exact time that I 'woke up' today. "An hour? No. It's probably closer to half-an-hour," I said, still pacing around the room.
Doctor Cain adjusts his glasses again, this time his hand is shaking. "This is... not a lot of time to work with. What took you so long to come here?"
I stopped pacing. "Do you really wanna know? Its a long story, and a terrible one at that. And did you see the car I came here in? It fucking stinks of drugs. It's probably stolen too, damn it. And when I woke up, I was surrounded by druggies and I think they're onto me. I didn't know their names and apparently they had something big going on today. I just bailed on them and-" I paused. "-Sorry for the ranting."
Doctor Cain took a deep breath. "Jenny, this better not be like the last time when-"
Suddenly the door to the warehouse breaks open. This was the place where Doctor Cain and I had designated our safe-house.
"How?" I muttered as I glanced at Doctor Cain.
Doctor Cain shook his head quickly.
A gang of thugs struts in, guns in hand. One of them walks forward, separating from the rest as he approaches me. "Jen, babe! How could you leave me? And you took all the good shit with you and who the fuck is this old guy?" he shouts.
My mind blanked for a moment. I knew no name or story and Jenny was a mystery to me.
"Uh... hey!" I wave cheerfully. "I was just about to leave! Don't worry about him, he's no buddy impor-"
"Who the fuck is this guy!" he screams manically, then whips his arm up, pistol trained on Doctor Cain.
"Don't!" I scream.
He fires.
I jump.
------
"Honey, are you awake?" a voice whispers softly, barely audible and yet it was clear - almost as if it was next to my ear.
A soft sensation tugs at my chest. My eyes snap open and immediately I see a woman in bed next to me, half naked and arm resting on my chest.
Another face I didn't know.
"Honey? What's wrong?" she asks.
"Nothing uhh - honey," I say quickly.
Another face who I couldn't put a name to.
I slid out of bed slowly, hoping she didn't notice. But she does.
"Nathan? What's going on? Talk to me."
For a moment I wonder if I should just leave. But I don't because I knew it wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be fair to Nathan and to *her.*
"Listen, I'm not Nathan," I said as I stare into the mirror on the wall. "I'm-"
Who am I? I had forgotten lifetimes ago. Here I had short dark hair, light skin and pale green eyes.
She laughs softly. "And I"m not Sophie. Did you have too much to drink last-" she pauses, "Honey why are you crying?"
I turned away from the mirror. "Because I'm going to die today."
--------
---------
/r/em_pathy
| ### What is Bob?
Bob is a man. Not a complex man, but simple, with simple desires. Bob has no family and few friends, but Bob tells himself he does not mind being alone. Bob enjoys his hobbies, such as they are, and he lives for a time. Then Bob dies.
What is Bob?
Bob is Debbie. Debbie has terminal brain cancer. She has suffered for many months. Her family waits for her to leave them, surrounding her hospital bed all day and night. Debbie who is Bob who is Debbie catches only fleeting glimpses of those closest to her in the peaks of consciousness between narcotic valleys. In time, Debbie dies, and Bob dies with her.
What is Bob?
Bob is Harry. Harry awakes eager for the day. Today Harry flies like a bird through the Swiss mountains. Harry, who is Bob who is Harry, will scale a mountain and don a suit which gives him wings and leap like Icarus into the empty air. A nervous day, an excited moment, the wind whipping through Harry's hair, roaring in Bob's ear, and a miscalculation. Harry meets the rock, and Harry and Bob pass on.
What is Bob?
Bob is deathless. Bob is a thousand thousand people, each with their own lives, each living their final day, and always Bob, watching, learning, alongside them, a silent companion.
What is Bob?
Bob is death. A million million corpses left behind in a chain longer than time immemorial. Bob no longer sees himself as a mere observer, it is impossible that he should be there only as watcher. Bob sees providence in his relentless presence, not mere correlation, but causation. Bob is not drawn to people because they are about to die. People die because Bob is drawn into them.
What is Bob?
Bob is watcher. A billion billion deaths, no longer just homo sapiens, but creatures far and wide, with intentions inscrutable and lives impossible to quantify and understand. Bob comes to know the hubris of his prior belief in causality. Bob no more causes death than the light illuminating the birth of an infant causes that birth. Bob is observer only, but the why of it escapes him still.
Eons of death. Countless infinities of death. Countless organisms. At last, there is no Bob. There is no longer even a dream of Bob, a faint hint of what Bob used to be. The name means nothing to him, nor the him, nor the notion of identity seperate and apart from life itself.
The being that was Bob finally understands what Bob is. Bob is empathy. Bob is understanding. Bob is transcendence.
Bob wakes up. The VR cap comes off and Bob's psychologist looks Bob in the eye.
"Bob, how are you feeling?"
Bob can hardly make a sound. He blinks.
"The treatment went off without any complications. It may take you a few days to adjust. But it's important to fill out the survey over the next few weeks so we can gauge your progress. Your depressive symptoms should be much alleviated in the coming weeks and months."
The psychologist keeps talking, but Bob is not listening. It does not concern Bob what the doctor is saying.
What is Bob? Bob is a nobody, but that doesn't bother Bob. Nothing much concerns Bob anymore.
*******
## r/LFTM | 2018-06-20T08:07:39 | 2018-06-20T07:14:22 | 665 | 299 |
[WP] You're a hostile alien hunter. You've just killed an alien which has terrorized a planet, but you discover the alien has laid eggs underground which hatch. You think they're going to attack you but instead they imprint on you because you have the mom's blood and smell all over you. | The creature destroyed three quarters of the continent before it started to bleed. That only angered it. Over the next three days, the combined military might of every faction on the planet was almost wiped out, but in the end, they were able to fatally wound the menace. Unfortunately, in had burrowed deep underground into a complex labyrinth of tunnels it had created, where it finally died, protecting its eggs.
Xen fell to his knees after confirming it was dead. His wounds caught up with him. A normal person would've lost consciousness by now. He had never hunted a creature that strong. The sight of three giant purple eggs, dimly glowing with a thin membrane of moist veins, only brought despair to him. Just how strong would a young one be?
Xen inspected his rifle. It was running out of energy.
The eggs throbbed.
Xen widened his eyes, freezing. They were hatching. Some soldiers entered the room, celebrating the victory. They ran away screaming as soon as the eggs cracked open. The creatures were completely different from the mother, multiple times smaller, around the size of a boot. Purple gooey lizards with tentacles and multiple mouths, filled with razor-sharp teeth. They were supposedly capable of adapting to any environment by mutating their bodies.
Xen made peace with the fact that he was about to die. At least he did it pursuing truth to the end.
The creatures leapt at him.
And then he heard a trio of adorable purrs.
The babies had cuddled up to him, licking his wounds. It took a moment for him to realize they were confusing him with their mother.
Xen relaxed. Their prickly tongues were uncomfortable, but they weren't trying to hurt him. It was finally over. These creatures were genetically engineered by the ancient progenitors to be weapons of mass destruction. Information about them was pure myth up until a few days ago. This could change the entire landscape of the galaxy. Studying these creatures might provide a lead in the search for Gaia, the ancient home of the progenitors.
A brave soldier entered the room an hour after they hatched. They wanted to know what happened. News of the babies quickly spread to all the faction leaders. Within minutes, orders for Xen's arrest were given. Every faction wanted a baby. They'd go to war if negotiations weren't handled carefully. Xen couldn't do anything in time. He was too weakened from the fight to argue against it.
The soldiers approached him with their rifles fixed on him.
The creatures craned their heads at them, emitting a low growl.
The soldiers froze. They shared glances with each other, hesitant to take another step. Their officers ordered them to shoot Xen from where they were or they would be executed as traitors.
The ensuing fight ended in minutes. The creatures jumped around the room killing everyone in sight.
Xen knew he didn't have much time before reinforcements came. He needed to leave the planet, but his ship was currently docked in a military base that belonged to one of the factions. There were two options. He could recover his ship or steal one to escape. Both were suicide missions.
The creatures started purring again. Xen couldn't believe were actually adorable... if he ignored the carnage they had just caused. The only thing keeping them from murdering him was the fact that they imprinted on him. That thought sent a shiver down his spine. Still, it was worth the trouble. They might be the key to finding the ultimate treasure of the galaxy.
-----
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out all of y stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | It always happens. Every time. Just when you think you've completed a contract, and you can finally leave whichever backwater, edge-of-the-galaxy planet you just saved from certain doom. Just when you can almost feel those medals being placed on your armour and that cash being stuffed in your pockets. Just when you think its all over... theres some damn twist. And this time's no different.
Turns out that moon eating serpent creature that'd been terrorizing the wonderfully wealthy inhabitants of Z-Class 9123, until I showed up, had babies. Lots of 'em. And when they hatch, well they'll have to find another habitable planet in Sector Z66. Unless of course, some knight in shining armour comes to save them... and guess who that damn knight is...
I set my course, back to the temperate, continental world I had just saved, back to save it again.
Believe me, I wouldn't have done it if they hadn't scammed me. They refused to pay me for my work if I didn't finish off this threat, and I wasn't about to leave without payment.
I landed shortly after. I didn't turn the music on once during the ride back, I was too angry. How dare they break my contract. Why I should've left them to die for what they did to me, and I would've, if I didn't love the sound of coins in my pocket as much as I do.
I proceeded with standard procedure for planetary egg bombardment. Scan the planet, detect the lifeforms, produce a virus that is highly contagious and lethal to them, and unleash it on the world as soon as they hatch. Cleans up planets in seconds.
I stood outside my ship, for fresh air. Big mistake. I should've been on the control panel, ready to unleash Hell on these rotten serpents the moment they hatched. But I wasn't, and they hatched while I was outside.
I ran back into the ship and locked the doors behind me. I unleashed the virus and looked at my scanner as I watched millions of red dots disappear. My work here was done.
I recieved payment, I even had a medal ceremony. I live for those medal ceremonies. But I still couldn't muster up the compassion to forgive these people for short changing me.
In about a year another one of those moon eaters is gonna burrow out of that planet. I put it there, in the crust. One of the hatchings snuck onto my ship, thought I was its mother, probably the scent.
Either way, they'll learn not to short change a bounty hunter, and I learnt to only take payment upfront. | 2020-03-28T11:17:12 | 2020-03-28T05:56:53 | 34 | 25 |
[WP] The King is dying and decides to abdicate his throne before he dies. During the coronation ceremony, he places the crown on a servant's head and declares him king, rather than one of his two sons. | Prince Horace raised an eyebrow at his aging father. "Your Highness, that's... that's your servant. Timothy and I stand before you; why did you go to such great lengths to crown a mere commoner?"
"Silence," King Jerry croaked. "I have crowned the rightful heir!"
"But I'm the eldest," Prince Timothy protested. "If you're going by inheritance, I would be the king."
"And," Horace added, "if you were to go by competence, it would be Sir Kendrick. He has, by far, proved himself to be a wonderfully skilled knight, with the might and intelligence to match even the greatest kings. If you do not wish to pass on the crown to your sons, I suppose I understand that, but... why Ian?"
"Silence!" the king roared. "Ian shall rule after me!"
"Father, he can't walk two steps without tripping on his own feet," Timothy said.
"And he does nothing but gossip all day," Horace exclaimed.
"And he scares the chickens," one of the maids screeched.
The king stamped his foot. "Are none of you listening?! Ian is the rightful heir! He's my son!"
The court gasped in unison. Sir Beritan, a particularly effeminate nobleman, stuck his nose in the air and scoffed, "Even our dear king isn't above fathering bastards!"
King Jerry waved his hand dismissively. "Not like that, you presumptuous pansy. You see, once upon a time, I was convinced that I was... er... impotent, if you catch my drift."
"Catch your... Father, why are you using anachronistic language?"
"Silence! So, I became concerned that I wouldn't have any children. Thus, I grabbed Ian and told him that when I died, he would be my heir. I am going to keep that promise and make Ian king!"
Twelve days later, the kingdom was burnt to the ground. | “There must be some mistake!” Prince John threw his weight against the unmoving body-weight of father’s guard. “There is no way that father would make that hussy the next king! Let me in, you dog,” he shouted in the guard’s face. At his side, he felt Prince Robert, his younger brother, unsheathe his sword. “If you don’t let us pass, I will cut off your head, as is my right.”
Inside the room, Eleanor sat at the king’s bedside.
“Father,” she spat, “we tried to make the whole country believe that I was simply your pillow pet, a slave in golden shackles. The kingdom of Alenare was just within our grasp! You were to find the princess and in bed together and were to blackmail their country with the embarrassment! Why now!”
-----------------------
*The prompt amused me so I just quickly jot down who I thought the characters would be. If anyone is interested I can continue the story!*
| 2016-02-12T16:10:01 | 2016-02-12T15:59:10 | 24 | 18 |
[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. | "Please, mommy, pretty please?"
-"Not now, Anthony. We've just said grace. Can't we enjoy a meal as a family before you start off with your silly ideas?"
Anthony looked down and frowned. He raised his eyebrows and veered to the left at his father with hope in his eyes, silently asking for a second opinion. Mother took her first bite of food and glared at her husband in disapproval as she chewed.
"Well, son. Just one bite. But only if you finish your vegetables!" Father said, chuckling in amusement.
Anthony lit up with excitement and devoured his veggies with haste. He couldn't wait to see her! Mother sighed in defeat but couldn't help but feel pleasure at the sight of her son's pure glee.
"Remember, Anthony. She can't come in the house. I just cleaned the floor"
The little boy nodded aggressively while giggling, which caused the whole table to break into warm laughter.
In the blink of an eye, Anthony finished up his veggies and grabbed the plate. He dashed from the table but immediately darted back, "May I be excused, mommy?"
Mother nodded with her mouth full, but before she could swallow the boy had disappeared.
"Don't let her in!"
The door opened and there she was, so hungry she couldn't even bark. Her chain dragged along the floor until it tensed up. She almost came into the house! She was so excited she couldn't make a sound. She shivered with joy at the sight of the little boy who brought her a treat. The smell of fresh feces and dried urine filled the hallway. Anthony scooped some minced meat with gravy from his plate and fed it to her. He loved how small chunks of food would seep from the pus-crusted ulcers in the folds of her neck and how gravy ran down over her leather collar, down to her sagged naked breasts and all along her wrinkled, craggy skin until it reached her atrophied feet with six-inch long rotten toenails which blended into the puddle of detritus.
"Hi grandma" said Anthony, responding to her wheeze. | "I see the moon and the moon sees me...", the voice sang smoothly and sweetly.
Like so many other nights in my life the words of that lullaby cascade through the room and into my fading consciousness.
"Down through the leaves of the old oak tree...", the voice and the song remind me of my mother and it washes me with a sense of comfort.
Sleep has been hard to come by these last few weeks. A truly deep rest continues to elude me.
"Please let the light that shines on me...", the subtext of every perfect note says *sleep*.
Finally, this is going to be the night, I can feel it. I need it.
"Shine on the ones I love."
I feel myself slipping away into blissful rest. Darkness creeps into the depths of my thoughts. Sleep at long last.
"Sorry, hun, not tonight."
The light of white hot pain pierces through my entire being; my adrenaline spikes as the blade pulls slowly across what's left of my bloodied body again and again as I lock eyes once more with my angelic voiced captor.
| 2017-05-31T08:11:09 | 2017-05-31T07:48:23 | 32 | 11 |
[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you. | We had been... friends was a strong word, from my point of view, but I certainly was it's best friend (as apparently everyone else who had gazed upon it in the past was dead) for about six months.
I assumed it could only appear to a single soul at a time, and as I hadn't melted into a screaming, mad pile of goo yet, it couldn't move on to another.
So there we were. Average human and... that. Stuck with each other. We couldn't quite talk in the normal sense, but after a while, we had come up with a way to understand and be understood by each other. Little pushes and pulls of emotion, certain tilts of its... head? I honestly dont even know if you could call it a head, but that was the bit that seemed to contain whatever sensory equivalent to eyes that it had. I even managed to teach it a bit of rudimentary sign language using its... appendages.
Honestly I could give it's body parts names like tentacles or claws or teeth, but none of it quite seemed real or even entirely there most of the time, and it just gave me the *idea* of a tentacle rather than actually *appearing* to be one. It defied any ability to describe what it actually looked like.
It didn't tend to follow me when I left the house, but was always lingering near the door to start drifting in what I assume was usually a quite horrifying manner behind me whenever I got home.
As our ability to communicate grew more complex, it eventually managed to pose a question that confused me at first. Not because it was difficult to reply, but because I couldn't understand how it didn't already know the answer.
*Why hadn't I been driven mad by it? Why was I able to remain undisturbed by its presence?*
"Why? Dude, haven't you looked at the calendar?"
It gave a confused wriggle of what I assumed were limbs currently in another dimension.
"It's 2020, bro. You're the least disturbing thing in my life right now. You want some coffee?" | The Friend Maker -- Chapter 7
Susan and Joe met deep in the dark wood. Susan had been singing an eerie, sorrowful song at midnight, smiling, and Joe just thought it was just so beautiful. He could not resist its charms. He was drawn forward. And the moment she saw him, her eyes brightened and her cheeks dimpled. He had never been so astounded in a hundred years.
Joe stammered, "You're not frightened of me."
"Well Joe, my mother was a necromancer. I grew up in the wilderness. My childhood companions and caretakers were ghouls, skeletons, and zombies. You're a bit more intense than they were, but I get you. My mother taught me that appearances don't matter. 'It's what on the inside that counts.'"
That was the first time that anyone had ever grasped Joe's hand since his death. Susan talked to him for hours as they walked through the forest. Joe was forever changed. | 2020-10-27T09:09:33 | 2020-10-27T08:28:01 | 38 | 18 |
[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 another knock on the door. Surely the Jehovah’s Witnesses won’t come three times in a single morning. Sure enough, when I open the door, the only person there is a squat, unshaven middle easterner.
“Shalom”
“Uh, shalom to you too, I guess.”
I look down at his name tag as he starts his spiel: Jesus of Nazareth.
“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.”
“Yeah, I know buddy. I already go to church and all, why don’t you give the next house a shot.”
With that, I closed the door and went back to my Grape-nuts. | 2019-05-20T05:19:42 | 2019-05-20T05:00:12 | 45 | 14 |
[WP] "This is an Emergency Alert. Barricade all entries to your house. Do not go outside after sundown. Restrict contact with others. Do not enter tunnels during daytime. Do not make any light or noise between 6PM and 8AM. Stay inside your homes until dawn. Military aid is unavailable. Good luck." |
**edit 3: Further updates will be posted in my subreddit /r/Ardarail, thanks for reading everyone!**
- - - -
 
I was watching the evening news when it started. The news anchor was cut off mid sentence by a loud, unbroken tone and the bright while bold letters began to scroll across screen.
**WE'VE INTERRUPTED YOUR NORMAL VIEWING EXPERIENCE FOR THIS IMPORTANT NATIONAL SECURITY BROADCAST. IT IS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT THAT YOU FOLLOW THESE INSTRUCTIONS EXACTLY FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.**
A monotone voice accompanied the words that appeared next.
*This is a national emergency alert. Do not leave your homes between 6PM and 8AM. Do not make any light or noise between 6PM and 8AM. Barricade all entries to your house and cover your windows with opaque material. Exercise extreme caution when out during the day. Do not enter tunnels or other dark areas during the day. Restrict contact with all others including those claiming to be official persons. Military and police assistance is not available at this time.*
I stared at the screen, mouth agape as the alert began to repeat its message again. My mouth felt dry and a cold sweat began to prickle at my back. Only the sudden wetness as I accidentally poured half my beer into my lap was enough to shake me from my shocked stupor.
*Is this some kind of joke?* I thought as my pulled out I phone and began to record a video of the message. I flipped through a few channels. All showed the same white words and robotic narrator.
Quickly I checked twitter and my worst fears were confirmed. Whatever "it" was it was blowing up online. Hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of tweets. Pictures and videos of the same message currently playing on my TV screen. Everyone seeming just as confused as I was.
I put down my phone and crossed my living room to look out the window. Everything *seemed* normal enough, at first glance at least. Then I noticed the conspicuous lack of... well of anything really. Cars, motorcycles, even just people strolling down the sidewalk were nowhere to be found. I glanced at my watch *6:42PM* not that late, there should be plenty of people out still. I took a last long glance out my window and then I saw *it*. At first I thought it was a person but then I noticed the odd, shambling aimless gait, the somewhat bedraggled experience, and the *face*. At this point he (I'm relatively certain it was a he) was under a streetlight and close enough to see the details of his face. His mouth was smeared with blood and his eyes were a milky white and seemed bloodshot.
Immediately I shut my curtains and took a shaky step back.
*What the fuck, was this for real? That looked like... I don't even want to say it but that looked like an actual, real life fucking zombie outside my house.*
At this point the panic began to set in. I tried to take some deep breaths and steady myself. Expand your diaphragm, keep calm, everything is going to be okay.
*Don't worry, you've prepared for this. How many zombie movies have you seen and said "I could totally survive that". This'll probably be easy!*
I ran through a mental list of everything I needed to do. Every door, locked and dead-bolted. Gun out of the safe and loaded. Windows, taped and covered in cardboard. Enough food in the pantry to survive a week maybe two tops.
*Hmm maybe I should call in work and tell them I'm sick and won't be coming in tomorrow...* Immediately I dismissed the thought. My mind was coming up with things to distract me from the true direness of this situation.
Then the lights went out.
As I sat in the darkness the terror began to grip me, a tight ball of it in my stomach slowly crawling up my throat and choking me so it seemed that I just couldn't gasp enough air no matter how hard I tried. With shaking hands I opened my phone and checked twitter again. Nothing. Nothing but a spinning circle. No WiFi, no cellular connection, no internet at all. Everything was down.
I felt like screaming but I could barely produce a pathetic rasping squeak. Plus it was past sundown and I was terrified to make any noise.
With the internet I thought I'd be fine, I could stay up to date with what was happening. I'd have entertainment for when I couldn't leave my house. I'd be able to just google any survival questions I had. Really it was like we'd all be going through the apocalypse together, connected through the wondrous power of the internet. But now I was alone. Truly alone and it was getting to me in a bad way.
*I've done all I can for tonight, maybe I should just try and get some rest.*
As I lay in my bed staring into the pitch blackness I knew it was a lost cause, there's no way in hell I'd be able to sleep. It was going to be a long, long night.
 
Sometime around 3AM the noises started. It sounded like pack of baying dogs but somehow *wrong*. And then it hit me, it was humans. Or some things that used to be human. Howling in a discordant symphony. The howling began to grow louder and higher in pitch, sounding almost excited. Then I heard a very human scream, full throated and ear-piercing it went on and on and on until suddenly it stopped and there was only the baying of whatever creatures the poor soul had fallen to. I curled up tighter under my covers, clutching my handgun until my knuckles turned white. I was shaking and all I could think was *Maybe I could've helped. Maybe I should've done something.*
But deep down I knew I wouldn't, would never. And it wasn't because of the warning to "Restrict contacts with others* though I tried to convince myself it was. I was just too scared. I was a coward and I'd let a thousand people die outside my door before I'd risk myself stepping out there into the unknown.
 
- - - -
*End of part 1 but I've got some more cooking up in my brain. If you'd like me to continue please let me know :)*
edit: *It's 2AM here now, so I'll have to post part 2 tomorrow, sorry guys! I'm also considering opening a subreddit so let me know if anyone would be interested in that!*
edit 2: ***Okay by popular demand I'm starting a subreddit! /r/Ardarail check it out for more stories!***
Stay tuned part 2 is in the works!
| The warning was clear: if you break any of the rules, you die. Lucy left the house before dawn once to gather stream water, and she never came back. We never even found a body. Alex forgot to turn the light off in his room one night before he fell asleep, and we found him in the morning; drained from within, barely a husk of a man.
It was down to me and Erin in the house, a woman I barely even knew. She was Alex's friend, and prior to the lockdown, I'd only known her as the mysterious girl who showed up to crash for days at a time, always managing to eat my Pop-Tarts in the process. Now she and I were clinging desperately to the hope of rescue, but we knew that it was a vain hope. "Military aid is unavailable," the message had said. No one was coming for us.
The message had also said not to enter tunnels during the day, but that's exactly what Erin and I were suiting up to do. She handed me the hockey equipment we'd found in Alex's closet. He'd been a star goalie for the school team in another life.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked as she put some of the pads on. I nodded. It had been her idea, but I didn't see much of an alternative that didn't involve sitting on my ass all day, waiting it out. I tried on Alex's mask. It fit pretty well, and I grinned behind it. *Just like Casey Jones.*
"What do we have as far as weapons?" I asked. Erin frowned.
"Really just hockey sticks I found in his closet, but it's your house, what else you got?"
My mind went immediately to the knife block in the kitchen, though the thought of using my expensive cooking knives as weapons upset me more than a little. They'd cost me a month's rent, but they might be the most effective things I had on hand. I walked slowly into the kitchen and grabbed the large chef's knife from the block. I hadn't used it since this whole ordeal began, which meant it was still nice and sharp. I grabbed a boning knife for Erin to use just in case the hockey stick didn't prove useful.
When I came back into the living room, Erin's head was bowed in prayer, her hands clasped around the cross necklace I'd always seen her wear. I allowed her a moment of silence, after which her eyes opened with a resolve I'd never seen in her.
"You ready?" she asked. I wasn't, but I nodded anyway.
We opened the door, bracing ourselves for an assault that never came. It was 2 o' clock by my watch, which meant we had a solid four hours to do our business and get back to the house before nightfall. I knew there was a cave system near the campus, thanks to an introductory archaeology course I'd taken sophomore year. That was our target. Maybe if we could find out why we were warned not to enter tunnels, we could find out what was happening.
Fear rose in my chest the closer we got to the tunnels. I knew what we were doing was one of the only courses of action available to us, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't scare the piss out of me. Upon arriving at the tunnels, we peered in, unable to see past about five feet in. I gulped, taking out a flashlight I'd brought to light our way. I don't know how I could have been prepared for what I saw.
Sure enough, there were figures in the tunnel, at least four, by my count. They looked humanoid, which I don't think I'd been expecting. But the most unsettling part is that they were *hanging from the ceiling.* I needed to get closer, to figure out how they were doing it.
My feet slid one in front of the other, as slowly as I could manage while still making forward progress. I was close enough to reach out and touch one of the figures, though I dared not. Shining my flashlight up at the ceiling, I could see the figures all had their feet dug into the soft earth above them, and were somehow hanging from that.
The closest one to me opened his eyes with a start. I stumbled backward, landing squarely on my ass. I tried my best to look intimidating as I brandished the knife I'd brought with me, but whatever it was we were facing down didn't look deterred. I could see the bloodthirst in its eyes, though the scariest thing about it was that it looked totally human, aside from skin so pale it was almost translucent.
Erin cracked her hockey stick over its head, though it didn't appear to notice the injury at all. It slowly turned its eyes to her, dropping from the ceiling and drawing itself up to its full height in one smooth motion. It was taller than it had first appeared; almost as tall as the tunnel itself, some seven and a half feet. Erin recoiled, and that was all the prompting the thing needed.
It lunged at her, baring fangs I could have sworn weren't there a moment before. I cried out, moving as if to stab the thing, though I was still too far away. Erin and the monster tumbled to the ground, making the muffled grunts of a struggle. Suddenly, the monster screeched, loud enough to make my ears bleed. It fell backward, clawing at the burning hole in its chest, and I saw fear in its eyes for the first time.
Erin's expression was one of delighted confusion. The cross on her necklace burned with a soft light, and it suddenly clicked.
"The cross!" I shouted at her, and her confusion gave way to determination. She stood, removing the necklace, and she approached the next sleeping vampire.
*Finally,* I thought. *We can end this.* | 2018-04-18T08:41:00 | 2018-04-18T07:40:08 | 4,246 | 250 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | April 22, 2000 – Is Canada cold?
April 22, 2000 – Is baseball like cricket?
May 1, 2000 – Ontario sports leagues
May 1, 2000 – Recreational baseball tryout
August 12, 2000 – Academic sessions Ontario
January 13, 2001 – Google maps: Alternate routes home
February 14, 2001 – Fun single person activities
May 1, 2001 – Competitive baseball tryouts
June 30, 2001 – The psychology of sports
August 19, 2001 – Good books on making friends
September 11, 2001 – New York plane crash
September 13, 2001 – Practicing Islam without anyone knowing
September 16, 2001 – Insurance claims on stolen/vandalized property
September 23, 2001 – Rehabilitation for broken ribs and shoulder
October 10, 2001 – Are surgeries covered under Canadian healthcare?
December 28, 2001 – When to stop taking painkillers
February 13th, 2002 – Real estate listings
April 6, 2002 – British Columbia
May 1, 2002 – British Columbia baseball tryouts
May 3, 2002 – Unable to throw baseball without pain in shoulder
July 9, 2002 – Painkiller addiction
August 13, 2002 – University applications
February 14, 2003 – Effects of depression
May 21, 2003 – Alternative routes after high school
June 10, 2003 – Job posting sites
September 1, 2003 – Cam shows
December 25, 2003 – How to celebrate Christmas without family and friends
December 31, 2003 – New Year's resolutions: defeating painkiller addiction
January 6, 2004 – Cam shows
January 19, 2004 – Cam shows
February 14th, 2004 – Redemption and Islam
May 1, 2004 – LD50 of common prescription drugs | Best private school LA
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Child caskets LA | 2015-02-04T18:35:51 | 2015-02-04T17:13:32 | 101 | 23 |
[WP] When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the toss correctly, you are allowed to keep living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You've been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pretty pissed. | "Have you ever considered, you know, doing something with your lives Seamus?" Death sat next to me in the pub, taking a swig of his pint.
"What do you mean!? I've finally perfected the brew, can't you taste how amazing this is? I have it on good authority that it's the best in the universe!"
"Seamus, you perfected this brew well over a century ago. Yes, it's the best beer in history, but surely there's still more you can do. I mean, it's gotta be divine intervention right? Nobody is supposed to win the coin toss. 235 fucking times Seamus. That's how many in a fucking row that you've won. Don't you think maybe you're genuinely mean to be doing something with all this time instead of sitting here getting blitzed? You don't even get any fucking customers out in the goddamn middle of nowhere except Joe in the corner there!"
At the mention of his name, the little old white bearded man in the corner roused himself just enough to look up from his half gone pint for a moment, mutter something unintelligible, and then seemingly go back to sleep.
Seamus, glanced over at Joe "Oi, don't be knocking Joe. He's been my loyal customer for years now, and he knows the true value of my brew."
Death had stopped all the theatrics centuries ago. He showed up in the modern dress of Ireland these days. Neither he nor Seamus could fake an accent to save their lives, but may as well blend in. He had last been at the pub 80 years ago when it was new, and 95 years before that at the tavern in Britain. Always whenever he came to visit "Seamus" was in his personal drinking establishment, serving up his same brew. Nothing ever changed with him, not even the result of the coin toss.
Death swigged down the last of the pint, it really was beyond compare. He'd been all over the world, through all the years, and he'd still never had a brew as good. Seamus was right, he really had perfected it.
"Welp, I got work to do, you know the rules, you get to call it, I get to flip it."
Seamus gargled "heads" through a sip of his drink.
Death used to think he was cheating. He knew it wasn't possible, but still, death couldn't figure out how to recreate that beer, so maybe Seamus had other secrets. Even so, it never mattered what Seamus called. Death tossed the coin in every way he possibly knew. It always came up in Seamus' favor. So this time was no surprise either. The coin landed, death swiped it up, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door.
"92 years, 84 days, 8 hours. I'll see you then."
"Oh aye laddy. Sounds grand. I'll have your drink waiting for you." Seamus said in his awful fake accent.
After death had left, Seamus went over to sit with his only other patron. The only patron he would ever need for all time.
"Thanks again Joe, guess I get to keep on brewing for you for another 92 years!"
Jehova looked up from his beer with a big smile.
"It really is the best in the universe!"
Edit:
Jesus! that blew up pretty thoroughly! I really appreciate all the compliments. Makes me feel good about taking the time to write it! | There was the sound of water, and an old dead prow washing through it, something dipping in deep and then coming unstuck, dripping back into the river. She breathed in, and the air was stagnant, as if it had just giving up and died. Something heavy hit her side of the river and slid into the mud. Eyes flickered behind eyelids, and something weighed heavy under her tongue. She swallowed and tasted blood, tasted copper. "Make the call," the Ferryman wheezed out.
She coughed and spat it up, its edges clinking against her teeth, and a single weighty coin dropped out into her palm, still wet with blood and spit. "I got the fee," she said, and thrust out her hand. "I got the fee!"
"Make the call," the Ferryman said.
"Heads," she said. "Or tails. It don't matter," and she flung the coin at him. It twisted through the air, glinting backwards at her, and landed wrong and stuck on its edge, tilted halfway in the river mud.
"As you called it," the Ferryman said, and thrust off again,
"I had the fee!" she said, and started forward, the riverside already dissolving into mist around her. "You got to goddamn take it! I had the fee!"
"Walk yourself backwards," the Ferryman said, and his voice was growing distant and dim. "You just walk yourself backwards until you want to stop, and I'll see you again when you're ready."
"I'm ready now!" she said, even as her memories unwound themselves and all her years fled from her. She dropped to her knees and breathed in the mist. "I been ready for centuries."
The Ferryman was a shadow in the distance, the sun behind closed eyes, and he raised a hand, a single coin shining bright in it. The coin she'd first been buried with. "You got to call it," he said, and flipped it into the air, and it spun and sung and hung in the middle of the sky, a scarred and silver moon. "We flipped that coin and it ain't come down yet, and I ain't going to take you till it does." There was a laugh rustling through his throat. "Heads I win, and tails you lose." | 2016-09-23T09:14:52 | 2016-09-23T08:02:36 | 2,418 | 88 |
[WP] You have always heard two voices in your head, one telling you to do good, and one telling you to do evil. Today, however, you awaken to them both screaming the same thing at you... | "How about you grab that lady's purse?"
"You should tell that lady she's left her purse there."
I continue to chomp on my fries and glance up at the lady that has gone and then at the purse she has left on the table. I get up swiftly, grab the purse and walk out of the building. She is walking away from the restaurant and I stop behind her, pondering on what to do. Something good or something bad. You a bad or a good person today?
I walk away when I realise she has stopped and is remembering that she has left something. Just before she turns around, I run, not looking back.
"Look through it and see what she has...might be a load of cash..."
"You should hand that into the police. In fact give it back to her. Hear me? Run back and give it to her, it's not yours."
"She left it there...lost it anyway. Anyone could have grabbed that thing and anyone else would have just taken it."
I sigh and stop running. Instead I begin making my way back and by the time I have returned to the McDonalds, I see the woman hasn't walked out yet so I leave it in front of the door. Hopefully she will walk into it-
"And break her neck, yeah that's a good idea."
I stick my headphones on my head and turn up the music. But it isn't any good. Nothing ever drowns the voices out of my head. They're in my head after all. I run home.
The next morning, when I wake, it's about 5 in the morning and I wake with a violent jump. Someone is yelling at me. I lift myself out of the bed and look around crazily. I switch on the light but there is no one in my bedroom. I look outside in the corridor and then out of the window and then I realise... it's the stupid voices in my head.
"GET OUT OF THE HOUSE AND RUN!"
I ponder about which one is telling me to do something, till it dawns on me its both, at the same time, saying the same thing extremely loudly over and over again.
"GET OUT OF THE HOUSE AND RUN!"
The volume is mind splitting so just to make them stop, I grab my jacket, leave my shoes and run out of the bedroom, fly down the stairs, grab the keys and fling open the front door. I run outside-
"GET OUT OF THE HOUSE AND RUN!"
"I HAVE!" I yell back, alone in the street.
And then the house blows up. | All my life I've had the voices in my head
 
They sqibble and squabble about things I've said
 
About people and places, the living and dead
 
Can I find some truth within the noise I dread?
 
But when I sleep, that sweet embrace
 
the darkness, my friend, takes my mind into space
 
the silence, the rest is something I long for evermore
 
Whilst my day to day is done in that dreadful dreary daze
 
Now I'm very conscious of the voices in my mind
 
They multiply and amplify their anger entwined
 
I can play the victim or get on with life instead
 
By finding resolution as they clear my head
 
We've had our final conversation
 
They've all said their word just once more
 
And as the silence of their waiting
 
fills me up with that sweet darkness in my core
 
No more time to listen to the voices
 
Say goodbye, time to say farewell
 
All this time I thought there were no choices
 
as I finally decide to listen to myself. | 2017-05-18T07:25:50 | 2017-05-18T06:18:01 | 69 | 24 |
[WP] Everyone's personality is based off the colour of their soul. You hand your baby over to the nurse and she scans it... She looks at the screen and realises that its going to be difficult explaining this. | The nurse blinked and stepped back.
“I’ll be right back, I just need to pop out for a moment.”
“Is anything wrong?” I asked.
“No…not as such, I just, uh, need a second opinion.”
The nurse stepped out of the door, shutting it firmly behind her. Her hurried footsteps disappeared up the metal walkway outside. I glanced down at the small figure laying peacefully on the scales before me. My daughter’s deep, still eyes locked on my face and I smoothed my crinkled brow into a smile, burying the stress below the surface.
“It’s okay darling, everything is going to be fine,” I said, “shhhhh…”
My leg twitched. The scanner was only a few steps away. I looked down at my daughter again, my hand glued to her chest, feeling the hummingbird heart whirring away beneath it. Stretching out my other hand, I reached. Too far.
I slowly lifted my palm, and shuffled to the left. My fingers grasped towards the back of the screen just as a small, sharp ding echoed from the door.
“Step back immediately, those results require the appropriate clearances,” the nurse rushed in, swinging the monitor’s screen back towards her desk,”you of all people should know that.” Her nose wrinkled up in distaste.
A second nurse followed behind her, scowling in my direction. I grinned. What are they going to do, arrest me? A small chuckle escaped my tight lips.
“Sorry, temptation and all that,” I said, “so, what’s the prognosis? Wait, wait, don’t tell me…natural born leader with a stubborn attitude.”
I heard the ugly twist in my voice and hated its contrast to the beauty of my new daughter’s calm face.
The nurse took a step back.
“You checked?!” Her voice shook, before becoming firm. “Guards! Take this man back immediately, see that his master initiates disciplinary actions.”
“What? No! I was just joking!”
The guards grabbed my wrists, pulling the shackles tight and causing the metal to rub cruelly across my already blistered arms. I ignored the pain as the truth slowly dawned.
“You mean it’s true? Oh my god…”
I ripped my arms from the guards grasp and lunged back towards my girl. My sweet girl. I kissed her on her forehead just as I felt the chain yanked back, pulling tight against my shoulder blades.
“Give ‘em hell, honey!” I shouted from the doorway, “You give ‘em hell!”
I closed my eyes as I was pulled from the room, but not before I saw the pure white of the monitor in the back. A grin split my face as I committed the details of my beautiful daughter to memory.
My daughter - a master personality born from a generation of slaves. It might be the last I’d see of her, but I knew it wouldn’t be the last I heard. | Caitlyn tightened her lips as she frowned at the screen and the text that scrolled along the bottom. After two years in obstetrics she'd finally begun to think she was safe.
She averted her eyes from the horrible words and carefully looked over her shoulder at the happy couple. The husband -- who was now a father as well -- was still talking softly with the new mother.
Caitlyn quickly, but carefully re-scanned the newborn infant, hoping vainly that the result would change.
Caitlyn flinched as the father spoke up. "Excuse me, nurse? We were wondering if the soul-scan had been completed."
Despite his having been an exemplary father-to-be during the birth, she wished for a moment that he'd die, immediately and in great pain. The mother wearily pushed herself up onto the pillows and attempted to smile. "Yes, we were wondering if he was going to be close to medium jungle like myself or more of a button blue like my husband."
Caitlyn closed her eyes. Years of suffering in elementary and high school pressed down upon her and she and struggled to keep herself from crying. She turned back to the screen. Maybe she'd read it wrong? A lack of sleep or contaminated meat at lunch caused her to hallucinate a false result?
No. The result hadn't changed. Even if she spent every night alone and the staff at the hospital considered her 'slow', Caitlyn had thought herself free. But she had no choice; the parents needed to be told and the child hadn't done anything wrong. She took a deep breath and began to read.
"C-c-cal Co-"
"C-cal Polypo-"
"C-cal Poly Popa-"
"C-c-ca-cal P-"
Caitlyn moved to one side and pointed at the screen. ["That."](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shades_of_green#Cal_Poly_Pomona_green) | 2017-04-29T03:31:10 | 2017-04-29T01:11:41 | 76 | 16 |
[WP] You'll soon arrive at Earth. The latest reports are from just 4 centuries ago and show a backwards planet, so technologically primitive it hurts. Just wait until those peasants gawk at your wondrous technical displays, like the Talking Box and the Image Viewer! They'll think you're a god! | "Multiple radio signals detected." the communications officer was working feverishly at the controls.
"What?" The High Lord Admiral, soon to be the head god of the primitives of the 3rd planet of the system they just warped into, sounded confused. "What kind of signals?"
"Artificial, sir. Thousands of them, all emanating from the target planet."
The Admiral chastised the officer. "That is impossible. You obviously have no idea what you are doing. You are dismissed from duty and should report immediately for recycling." Without hesitation the comm officer stood up and walked off the bridge. Another officer took his place.
The bridge went quiet for a minute to reflect on what happened before the radar control individual piped up. "We are detecting a ship, most likely originating from the target planet."
This time the Admiral stood up and walked over to the radar screen. "Show me," he said icily. When the control officer pointed to the dot in question, the Admiral roared "That is probably an asteroid!"
"It's accelerating, sir." he replied quietly, showing him the numbers.
Before the admiral could respond, his first officer announced "Admiral, viewing has reported they have a telescoping lock on the planet. The Admiral knew he didn't need to bother to ask to have put it on the screen and just turned towards it as the planet popped up.
Everyone on the bridge gasped. The side of the planet on the screen was currently pointing away from the system's star, so it was dark. Except for all the lights. The lights of an advanced civilization, at least level 12, mainly along the coasts and rivers of the planet.
For the next two days the small squadron of ships made their way to the planet. The amount of information coming out of the planet was staggering. They had not brought the proper personnel or software to interpret all of it, and the fact that the natives had not yet unified their languages didn't help matters. They had plenty of video information coming in as well as the data the radars, telescopes, and radios brought in. The planet had multiple artificial satellites, a unified worldwide network, and even their own massive telescopes. They even had landed robots on another planet.
"How is this possible?" The Admiral had lost some of his roar. His officers were all at their stations, but they were all turned around looking at him. "We've met thousands of civilizations, none have ever had this level of advancement so quickly." There had been plenty of theories over the last two days, but none made sense. The planet and the species were unremarkable.
There was a beep from the communication station and the officer assigned attended to it. Their face went to confusion and then to surprise. "Sir, we are being hailed." When the admiral nodded the officer activated the screen.
A Coroki face appeared on the screen, causing every face on the bridge to immediately scowl. The hideous creature had his digits wrapped together and a wicked smile on his face. "Welcome to Earth!"
"I should just eradicate the planet right now to rid the universe of you!" the admiral snapped.
"I don't recommend that, there are several satellites with ship to ship missiles locked on to your ships right now, good luck figuring out which ones." The Coroki tilted his head. "Some of them are even tipped with nuclear warheads!" he said jovially.
The Admiral sputtered before answering. "How did they accomplish all of this? Did you do this?"
"I stowed away on your scout ship so many years ago. Knowing one of your God ships would eventually return I managed to make my way here and start helping them advance."
The first officer spoke up, "Liar! We've seen footage from them, your ugliness is no where to be found!"
The Coroki casually reached to press something on its wrist and itself was covered by and image of one of the natives. "I just moved about, hinting and building, " it kept pressing the button and cycling through various looks of the natives, "pushing when needed, being where I needed to be move civilization along."
The comm officer gasped incredulously. "You hid among them? They would've worshipped you as a god!"
It pressed another button to resume his form and then it spread his arms out. "Look at all I have created! Am I not a god?"
The Admiral shook his head. "You are no god. A god has to be worshipped. A god has to be KNOWN."
The Coroki went serious as it leaned in towards the camera and his face filled up the screen. He waited for just a second before saying with a wry smile. "You know me."
Before any one else could reply it leaned back and gestured towards the screen. "Have a safe trip back!" it said before terminating the connection. | "Everything set for landing?" I chuckled. I always got a laugh out of talking to myself on this solitary spaceship. I hadn't always been alone but... Well, you know. Shit happens, as the saying goes. I'd have to teach those Earthlings what the hip space travelers were saying these days.
"All set," I responded to myself. Earth grew rapidly as I approached. It was more populated than the reports had said it would be. Beautiful cities appeared, labeled by my trustworthy Informational Device; Detroit, Gary, Flint. I knew I would be greeted with skepticism at first, as a prophet bringing forth the future always was, but the incredible technology I would offer those people would surely win them over. The Talking Box and the Image Viewer and the Creator of Pictures. I would introduce them to the future, one advancement at a time.
I landed where I think a war had happened. My Informational Device had mentioned some wars with the continental natives but this seemed more like the ruins of a once prosperous nation. I was impressed, to say the least. I knew the Maya and Incans had built mighty cities but I did not expect too much from the local tribes. The natives must have won. They stalked around the streets with their shirts off and wrapped around their heads and touted old pistols they had pilfered from a colonist. Just like expected.
"Children of the Earth," I bellowed to them as I stepped out of my spaceship. They looked at me like I was crazy. I'm not. I couldn't wait until I saw their faces once I started to show and tell. "I have come to deliver you to the future."
"Gonna deliver yo' ass to the grass, bitch," one of the youths yelled back at me. I chuckled. Such crude humor was to be expected from such a technologically primitive people.
"I have here a..." I let the suspense build for a second as I reached into my bag of gadgets. A crowd had gathered and I basked in the company of this antiquated people. "A Talking Box!" I exclaimed, pulling it out and turning it on. I turned the knobs and the box began to talk. They gawked at me. I loved the reactions on their stunned faces as they got a glimpse of the advancements I had to offer.
"You call it what?"
"A Talking Box, my curious friend," I responded.
"I ain't yo' friend, bitch. That's a fuckin' radio." My technology was advanced, but my local lingo not so much. I took bitch to be endearing since the family she-dog could still be a man's most trusted friend.
"Pretty rad, I know!" They stared at each other. The look of awe on those native faces filled me with wondrous joy. I often imagined what it would have been like to see my child grow up. Alas, food had run short over the course of my trip. "Next I have a Creator of Pictures," I exclaimed, pulling out the next device. I pointed it towards their shocked faces and pressed the button and a moment later the picture was delivered into my hand.
"A fuckin' Polaroid," one of them said. They shook their heads. Such surprise was well worth the journey.
"Let me shoot him," another said. I smiled. They wanted to learn, such curious minds they had. I walked towards them, Creator of Pictures held out in my hand.
"Here, shoot me," I encouraged with a loving look.
"I don't need that. I got this," he responded lifting the pistol-like device he must have gotten from a colonist. The countless things I could teach them flashed through my mind. The technologies. The recipes. The drugs. The memes. I'm in danger.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-09-19T10:29:33 | 2019-09-19T05:34:23 | 582 | 427 |
[WP] Each planet possesses a God, which created the planets. The reason aliens won't come and visit us is that our planet's God is the most dangerous one in existence. | I do not favour the names the self named humans had given me, Kronos, Osiris, Zeus, Odin, Jupiter, Allah, God, mother nature; even crazier so many claimed to be the only sons and daughters of me! They were all my children, and only mine.
Humans had something the other denizens of the universe did not, hope. Hope gave me great power, much more then sacrifice or worship had ever; more than those logical, or savage races whose Gods had not the determination to wipe out their races when they did not offer anything but pitiful worship themselves. The weak could not give what they did not have. I had wiped out the dinosaurs, and tried to wipe out the humans once when they were weak and stupid, but they proved that hope and perseverance were strong forces, even if they weren't able to manifest them like I could.
The hope siphon returned far more energy to me than I gave out in life force to the planet. It was a foreign energy even to me after half a million years but it could manipulate dark energy the stuff we gods were made of, the largest mass in the universe.
I never would have thought that the monkeys picking their own asses and licking their fingers clean, would have become these... hopeful creatures; granted some still pick their ass and throw a hamburger into their mouth.
Whenever one of my "brothers and sisters" attempted to take what is mine I would stop their attacks. They relied on their mortals in space ships traveling as slow as light among the stars. Machines of metal and gas that provided nothing but a survivable environment for the mortals on board against one such as me.
Lashing out, like a hand across a chess board I would sweep away their armada's into the nearby star. It happened so quickly humans did not notice for many years. when humans finally could see the explosion they called it a solar flare. Little did they know it was me preventing them from being glassed.
The attacks always occurred when the humans were in great wars, first when the Kings of Persia invaded Greece, Caesars conquests, during the back and forth of the crusades, Genghis Khan's invasion of Europe. The closest to being defeated was during the forty year period of the world wars, when hope was lost to so many across the world.
After that period I determined that my brothers and sisters were too dangerous to let roam the universe. I put the thought of space travel in the the greatest minds of the winning states after world war two. Pitting them against each other in a cold war, that would never ignite as I would not allow it. Intent on having them master space.
It took much longer then expected.... Smart phones, social media, whimsical wants made them vain and self centered. Even as I put more dreams of the cosmos into their minds; they only used these ideas as movies and stories for many years.
Human hope never went away, in fact it got stronger even if not for my wants. They hoped on lottery, a Christmas bonus and other such ways of boosting ones worth among peers.
That went on for decades until finally they ventured out and explored Mars in person, led by man named after a type of odor, for why he was named such I have no idea. The man died on Mars, but what he started ignited a fire under the rest of humanities ass.
While we, Gods you might call us were all relatively equal, I knew at that time, with humans feeding me hope at my side; I would take the universe from my wasteful brothers and sisters. | "Earth? Please; let this be the end of it. You have propositioned me time and time again to visit that accursed place, and it is only my protests that keep you here. I have not changed my mind, but it is truly time that you do."
Tal'mak stared at his friend, willing him to reconsider. Tal'mak was a risk-taker - a natural trait of his bloodline - but this went beyond his basic nature. He wanted to experience a planet with true danger, with true *life*. What was the point of living on their planet, or any other for that matter, which just incessantly pampered and coddled? What kind of an existence was that?
"Please, Jj'ar. We do not live here, we only meander. I just need to *experience* something."
"We have all the experience we need here!" Jj'ar replied, gesturing around him. "Our every need is taken care of. We can do as we wish; poetry, art, lovemaking. What would possess you to venture to a planet as forsaken as Earth? I hear they have a thousand religions, each a different interpretation of their God's cruelty."
"Though we do not age, we are still emotional infants, Jj'ar. We are children in a playpen, left to play with our little toys. We have never known suffering. Grief. If even a tenth of what they say about Earth is true, then that is a world that we should visit; if only to truly understand how lucky we are."
Jj'ar let out a deep and heavy sigh. He could sense that his protests did little to sway his friend's mind, but he was resolute.
"Tal'mak, if you must visit it, then you should do so alone. Though I sympathise with your sentiment, it is one I do not hold. It is said that their God is malevolent and uncaring; and if such an entity exists, then it is not one I would like to meet."
Tal'mak stood up. He had finally built up the courage to go out alone, now that he knew there was no chance of his friend joining him.
"I can respect that. I shall venture forth, and be a better man for it. I shall tell you of my adventures soon enough."
****
Some weeks later, Tal'mak returned to his home planet.
Though his friend questioned him incessantly, he never spoke of what he had seen.
In fact, he never spoke again. | 2017-11-27T07:29:23 | 2017-11-27T04:23:52 | 201 | 140 |
[WP] “Shh, it’s alright,” the villain said. “You’re doing beautifully and I’m so proud of you. But that’s enough now. It was cruel of them to make you fight me. It’s not your fault.” He spoke with a gentle tone but he was pissed, not at the hero, but at the gods who send kids and teens to fight him. | "Shh, it's alright."
He remembers, even as a divine being, being a baby, barely out of his mother's womb, terrified of his own creation and everything else. The matronly presence of his mother enveloped him in a warm embrace and said those words.
"You're doing beautifully and I'm so proud of you."
His duty as the god of magic was to police the arcane flows and give certain people powers that his fellow gods gave him to be gifted to the chosen ones. His girlfriend then, another lovely divine being, had been with him on his first day on the job as she blessed forges and taught humans blades. Full of joy, they had laughed together and said those words to each other.
"But that’s enough now."
Were they kidding? Do they see the currently unvisited lands that we gods had made but the humans are hardly powerful enough to visit? It's beautiful, and there's so many things to see there, so many beasts to slay, so much wonder in those lands. To get there, the humans need help! Teach them secrets of magic, help find formulas with them, discover what you've never known about magic as well! He wasn't interested in the political affairs of the gods, anyway. He just wanted knowledge for everyone because it supposedly made everyone happy. Apparently, it didn't.
"It was cruel of them to make you fight me."
His darling wife. He couldn't blame her. The fight didn't even last a year: he didn't want to hurt her more than he already did.
"It’s not your fault."
Banished to being a human was not the worst insult. Banished to being a human with the mark of being cursed by the gods is. Anyone who associated with him was instantly discriminated against. Poor Delilah, Yang Tze, Syafiq, Gertrude, Mandisa, Lucian. None of them deserved their fate.
\*\*\*
The old man stepped out of his tower and checked his shield. It was still working, good.
A bip on his radar. Something tried to breach. And another. Another. A fourth. He sighs heavily and walks to the location.
Admirable attempts, as always. But metal armour was conducive to the second, 1mm thick layer of the shield. The poor fried soul was beyond recognition, but he may have been a mighty warrior once.
Digging underneath was an interesting idea, until you hit the invisible part of the shield underground. Nothing was left but a bloodstained shovel.
Flying over the shield that seemed like a dome was the easiest trick in the book. In reality, the shield was a cylinder with the top of it above the clouds, where adventurers who could actually get that high would either pass out from the thin air, or, if they survived up their, would still have no way of entering.
The last one.. There was always a last one, wasn't there? Look, on her neck. The Symbol of Ginevra, the Goddess of the Forge. Of course that would work for 6 of the 7 layers. The last one put her in a paralysis for 5 minutes, just enough time for him to say a few words, slip her an anesthetic and and stop her life painlessly. No point in him being too nice. The ones he was nice to, they never stood a chance.
In his old age, his joints hurt, and he swears as he struggles to sit down next to the young girl. She looked just like his favorite form of Ginevra.
Eyes beginning to water, he opens his mouth. | The little boy sobbed, and swinged his knife wildly, blind to its movements as his eyes were too puffed from crying. He was beyond terrified, a puddle of piss started leaking from his pants, he knew it was supposed to be his destiny to be here, as the spirits told him to go there and face the great evil that terrorised the land, alone without help. Only that when he finally found that evil, he couldn't help and be scared. He was sure he'd die.
The thing that stood before him resembled a human only with distinct animal features such as huge bull horns, big eyes that stared deeply into his soul along with a scorpion tail. The boy saw a monster and heard the tales of destruction that this this did and couldn't help but be frightned.
Yet the creature when the creature looked at him, it did not have any malice, only pity. The spirits that were out to destory him sent a little boy, no older then 8 to kill him? He was confused and furious but he did not want to scare the boy.
He slowly started to approach doing his best to calm the boy down: "I am not going to hurt you, little one, you did so well coming here, it must've been dangerous coming all the way here." He stopped walking and eyed the boy down. Even though it was clear he was still afraid, it was easy to see his body relax and his eyes started to fill with pride. Even a creature scary and monsterus like that could recognize his strengh, he thought to himself.
"Yet the spirits shouldn't have sent you here, even by their standards, its insanity sending a child alone here" the creature gestured at the wasteland around him, faraway from any city and filled with monsters that are willing to grab a little boy for a snack" something about the way he said it, with such warmth and care, caused the boy to feel safe and secure, even in that terrible place.
When the creature was only a meter away from the boy, he touched the boy's cheek and wiped a tear: "Don't worry little one, you won't have to-" as he began comforting the boy again, he felt something dig its way into his internal organs. The knife. As he began writhing in pain and screaming, the boy fell to the ground like a ragdoll, and wiped blood from his cheek, as the creature managed to scartch him as a last resort, and witnessef its death. Once he was sure it was dead, he got up, shaking and started walking back, where he came from, fullfillong his destiny. | 2019-07-26T07:42:49 | 2019-07-26T07:04:46 | 51 | 30 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | I stood outside the bar, hearing laughter and chatting from the warm interior. I looked down the line of people waiting for entry and started looking down the line muttering under my breath, "Twenty-two, twenty-five, Thirty, Twenty-nine, and... a twenty year old."
I sighed and I could see my breath within the cold night air. "Alright guys!" I gestured to the front of the line, "Come on in!" As the first four passed me, I held up my hand to block the entrance for the twenty year old, a tall black-haired boy who *might* have been able to enter as he looked to be at least twenty-three to any other outside viewer. Unluckily for him however, I have an exceptionally rare ability to see the age of any individual floating above their heads.
The boy looked at me confidently and smiled, "Is there a problem, sir?"
"May I see your ID please?"
The boy looked surprised and took out his wallet. "Alright, just give me a second here...". The boy gave an elaborate shuffling through his wallet for a good thirty seconds before he finally said, "I think I might have left my ID at home or something. Can you make an exception please? My friends drove me and one of them just went in, I mean we are literally the same age. Just ask him!"
I nudged him out of the line and said, "Sorry kid, no ID no entry."
The boy's previous friendly face slowly contorted into one of utter anger. He looked as if he were going to punch me until he stopped himself. Still clenching his fist with knuckles pale as ice, he stormed off without saying another word.
I sighed and looked at the next one in line. He looks definitely like a kid. I'd guess... ten years old. I used my ability and his age appeared above him displaying... **FOUR DIGITS**. WHAT PERSON IS 7300 YEARS OLD? He looks like a kid too!
He had auburn hair and was looking at me with wide eyes. I quickly blinked a few times to mask my loss of composure. "Uh... So, how old are you?"
The boy gave a huge grin and yelled in an ear-piercing voice, "Seven, three, zero, zero years old!"
I raised an eyebrow and knelt down. In a soft voice I asked, "Are you lost kid? Where's your mom?"
The boy scowled and yelled even louder in a tantrum impatiently, "I am **seven, three, zero, zero years old!**"
There is no way this kid is immortal or something. As far as I know, immortality and reincarnation or anything of the sort is nonexistent. I quickly pat his head gently and said, "Let's go find your mom, okay?"
The kid started sniffling and pointed inside the bar, "But my mom is inside!" I gently grabbed the kid's hand and guided him inside with me saying, "Come on kid. I'll find your mother."
We walked inside the bar with lots of people chattering and hearing the clinks of wine glasses. I grabbed the kid and held him up by the shoulders. I said in a loud booming voice, "WHOSE KID IS THIS?"
A thirty one year old whom I assumed to be the mother quickly ran to the kid and hugged him closely saying, "I am so, so sorry Alan. I thought you were asleep!"
I shook my head, "Listen, next time. Watch him closely and don't leave him alone by himself. *Ever*."
She glanced at me and softly said, "Alright."
I put a hand on the kid's shoulder and glanced at the mother, "By the way, how old is he anyways?"
The mother sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. She said, "He's only ten years old."
"Then why does he call himself a 7300 year old?"
The mother gave a hint of a smile, "It's just his way of adding up to 10 years old. The two extra zeroes are just to make him seem smarter with math." She ruffled Alan's hair, "Aren't you smart?"
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| Nothing exciting ever happens around here in New Zealand. I say that because most people don't even know where New Zealand is, let alone anything that ever happen down here. The fact that I live in a small town about 2 hours drive from anywhere worth mentioning also doesn't help, but I've found a job that fits me to a T. I mean, not every bouncer can see people's ages floating above their heads, right? This is not some Peter Jackson Frightener movie, this is real life. Real life means I have to work for my dues, whatever that means.
I am not complaining about my special ability. Believe me, it is one thing that you can tell how old one person is just by staring at the space slightly above their head, but it is totally awesome when you can see everybody's number. To be honest, it's the young ones that shock me the most. They just don't treat their body right these days. I see their haggard faces every night, standing in the cold, wearing next to nothing. I can tell how old they are, but some of them look closer to thirty than eighteen. Of course you can't let those ones in, it's the rule. I didn't make the rule.
It is September already. You'd think this winter will finally end and we will get some flowers out of the ground, right? Spring is supposed to be here, but no. It is still freezing. The line isn't very long tonight even though it's Saturday. The place I work for is usually full in the weekend, but not tonight. It has stopped raining though.
I suppress a yawn. We have a group of students with their IDs in their hands, eager to get inside. I don't blame them. Pulling the dark jacket closer to me, I pretend to scan them up and down, and look at their IDs quickly. I don't need to see them or do any mental calculations. I know they can go in. That's why I waved, yes, you have a fun night. Not sure if you will find it in there, but good luck. You will get what you wish for.
I don't know why I haven't noticed this earlier, but I guess it's because the guy from the group was too tall and he blocked my view. My usual icy stare is hard to maintain when the number above the well-dressed man flashed when I look up. I have to stop myself physically, not losing my composure because I know what I saw.
"Hi, brother. I've come to have some fun tonight."
"ID, please."
As if a card is going to prove how old he really is.
"Oh, can you see it with this light?"
I can hear him alright, but I can't let him through. I've been trying to find him after all this time, and when I finally found him, I am powerless to stop him. Powerless to catch him.
"I can, and brother, remember why you are here."
He has the audacity to scoff before stepping into the club in his fancy patent leather shoes.
His number is 6666.
That's his number.
My name is Michael and he's my brother. I've been waiting for him forever and this is why I am calling my partner from inside the club. This one can't get away.
| 2018-02-12T22:42:59 | 2017-09-02T00:05:56 | 223 | 11 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | We've studied them for hundreds of years. It was a simple planet, barely reaching passed their own moon. Our records showed they knew of war, they knew it well, but in their modern times they avoided it with diplomacy. The weaklings pleadings of mercy to the powerful.
Our emperor laughed. Such actions mean weakness to our kind, and our victories have all but proven this true.
Their diplomats came. Offered knowledge, culture, trinkets. Worthless. Their diplomats we're the first blood spilled.
I remember when we received our first casualties.
All at once, our orbital starships crashed upon their planets surface.
We knew they had weapons, but we underestimated their power. Nuclear bombs. The same material used to once power our early space fairing vessels, weaponized. Our ancestors beloved it impossible. Not for the humans.
We crashed and we're met by explosions of fire that melted our hauls, ammunition made from metals and not energy, making our shields useless. Our blasters had ten shots before a recharge. Their firearms fired off thousands in a second. Our dead went from thousands to millions.
The few that were not killed, were taken prisoner. Torture unlike anything our race could fathom. Brutality on par with the ancient dark ones of myth. Humanity didn't offer diplomacy as a weakness... They were being kind.
They were showing us mercy, for we knew not what their race was capable of. Against one another, they are evenly matched. United against a common enemy, we never stood a chance.
They took our technology, modified it, reverse engineered it, improved it.
In a week, they had their own armadas. In a month, they overthrew all our nearest outposts and colonies, both made by us and taken from the weak.
In a year, our empire was in ashes.
To all who hear this transmission, beware, beware the species known as Humans. For if you see one. Accept their kindness, accept their mercy... For their wrath could burn the whole galaxy... | Humans are the most dangerous when they know they have nothing to loose.
When they **know** they can't win, they'll devout everything they have to make sure that you don't win either.
They prefer mutually assured destruction before surrender.
By a wide margin.
**Never** put a human in a corner.
All those tidbits of media that escape their bubble before they did showed mostly weak, groveling people, begging for mercy when put against a superior force.
That only applied when they where dealing with their own kind.
To anyone else, they're basically rabid beasts.
Only engage a group of humans when you are **absolutely** sure you can eradicate them all in one fell swoop. Otherwise, it's a lose/lose scenario.
I've learned this the hard way, and it's by the skin off my teeth that I live to tell about it... | 2022-08-05T16:07:13 | 2022-08-05T12:59:37 | 166 | 109 |
[WP] An horror story where it gets progressively clearer that the writer is the psycho, not the other person. | ​
One night, I saw the prettiest girl at the bar. She'd been very drunk, but she was alone, and a few empty seats away from me. I thought I'd swoop in before someone else did.
"Stuart," I said, simply, when our eyes met.
"I'm sorry?"
"Sorry, I thought you asked for my name," I said.
"No," she said.
"Well, you've got it."
"Huh?"
"My name. You've got it now, anyway."
"Oh, okay."
I turned away for a second. Maybe I wasn't that good with the pick-up lines. I thought about giving her up, letting another guy swoop in and shoot his shot, but then I decided to give it another try.
"So, what's yours?" I asked, after turning back around. "Your name, I mean."
"Sarah," she said, uninterested. I imagined she was only giving me a chance because she was a drunk.
“Hey, we’re both S’S. Sarah, Stuart!" I responded.
“Cool.”
*Not cool.*
“So, what’s your sign, Sarah?”
“My sign?”
“Zodiac.”
“Oh! Gemini!”
“Hey! I’m an Aries! We’re compatible!”
Seven minutes later, and I had her. We made out in the back of the cab, on our way to my place. She was very sloppy, and had horrible breath. She was deeply drunk. Almost too drunk. I thought about sending her home, but we were already on our way to my place and I didn't want to bother the cab driver. I also didn't know where she lived, and figured she was too drunk to remember.
After about 10 minutes in the back of the cab, she suddenly pulled back, hair in her face and lipstick all smeared. “Where do you live, anyway?" *God, her breath stinks.*
“It’s a little far out.”
“Oh, okay.”
When the cab finally pulled up in front of my place, I quickly slid out and paid the driver. I tipped him extra, so he'd remember me as friendly, and nothing else. Then, I opened the door for Sarah, and she stumbled out, almost falling over. She would have fallen over if I hadn't grabbed her.
I thought that maybe it was wrong to bring her home. She was too vulnerable. Too drunk. I should've dropped her off at her home, made sure no one else got to her.
But it was already late, and we were already there, so I guided Sarah inside, where she almost immediately bent over, puking, and then collapsed onto the couch, all at once.
I covered my mouth, taking a few steps back. My god, how pathetic she looked in that moment. I realized then that I was in the wrong; she was too drunk. I shouldn't have brought her home.
She was too drunk.
Too vulnerable.
If I was going to kill her, I needed a challenge. | As I looked down at Amy among the crowd of her fellow high schoolers, I tilt my head unnaturally to the side, enough to crack it if I was a normal human being.
Call me what you want; an imaginary friend; a stalker; the Creator or whatever the hell you want.
You might not see me. I am behind every curtain, sitting on the couch staring at the screen and maybe beside you right now, looking at you reading this, knowing this is just a story for you.
Maybe you have your own Creator. I was of one.
I have looked after Amy for her whole life. Since she was a baby, I have watched her first steps, watch her parents die in the car accident, stood beside her as cancer took away her elder brother.
But this was unforgivable.
I look over to where she is standing next to her old crush, Dex. She is laughing at something he had said, his eyes twinkling.
He thinks her eyes are beautiful when she laughs.
Hot rage bubble inside me, and I clench my fist enough to draw blood. This isn't supposed to happen.
She is supposed to meet that other boy here. The new jerk. He must have asked her out on a dare today, but this! Dex is supposed to looking after his mom now. I even made her get in an accident to assure that.
There is ....no other way. I throw my head back and laugh.
This is *my* world. *My* creation.
I sweep a languid hand over the cafeteria. It would take some effort to change her memories, but it is my choice.
Tomorrow, I will see to that. And today... That boy's mom is in the hospital, right? It won't take enough to break a *child.*
\[Any advice is appreciated. And you know, there is a ritual you can do to see me. I will tell you about it some other time...\] | 2020-06-11T06:01:35 | 2020-06-11T05:57:07 | 111 | 25 |
[WP] You're immortal and have passed the 'hero' phase centuries ago. You enter a small corner shop one day to find it is owned by your millennia-old arch-nemesis. You really, really need milk though. | I genuinely didn't recognize her at first, gone was the raven black hair I had seen so many times and in its place was a coppery red that made her look almost approachable. Her eyes once notes of darkness wreathed in flame floating in an abyssal ocean were now normal. Well as close to normal as electric blue got. She was almost pretty enough that I had considered making a pass at her.
But it was the amulet around her neck that drew me in. Her amulet of power that held her soul and made a her a force to be reckoned with.
No.
That couldn't be it.
We destroyed that amulet centuries ago.
She glanced up for her magazine and looked right at me. Her shoulders slumped and she sighed. "I've been living in peace for damn near 500 years, Cass, can you just like, fuck off?"
"Has your voice always sounded like that?"
"Fuck off."
"Can I just grab some milk?"
"You're not here to kill me?"
"My swords in a museum."
She glared at me and then sighed her attention going back to her magazine. "Fine, but I'm not allowed to give you a discount."
I scrambled around and grabbed a few things before heading over to the counter where Morgan acted like every other petulant teenager behind the counter. Was it just an act or...
"Why a convience store clerk?" I asked when she started to scan my items.
"Easy. Most people buy into the runaway from abused home thing. Eventually because I'm pretty I'll start at a bar, make a bit more for a decade then leave before people get suspicious and start over." She looked me up and down. "You?"
"Ohh, I travel a lot, own a few banks, keep a low profile."
"But IDs and all that other bullshit."
"Kade."
"Kade? Fuck he's still around too?"
"Yep."
"But like how? I thought I was doing pretty good with the whole small town thing."
I shrugged, "it's a long story, but if you want to talk about it, bring that gin behind you and we can talk about it."
That night we shared more than just a bottle of gin. | You lock eyes for a split second, and the recognition is clear. The general vibe is a shoulder-drop into "Oh for fuck's sake" territory. Neither of you have the patience, time, nor inclination for any kind of interaction. It's been ages; that score has long since settled.
You navigate the corner where the cold dairy goods are stored, deftly snagging a gallon of milk with your index finger as you casually stride by. In mere moments, you're at the register, eye-to-eye with your nemesis.
"Find everything OK?" they ask, as you fiddle with the pinpad.
"Sure did," you reply, as your item is scanned.
"Need a bag?" they ask.
"Nah," you grunt, shaking your head and looking away. The milk slides to the end of the counter lane, bouncing against the stop at the end.
"Receipt?"
Reaching for your milk, you shake your head *no.* "Have a good one," you say, as they also say, "Have a good one," at the same time. You look up, and they're looking at you. You scoop up the milk and hurry out the door. | 2021-07-18T20:17:45 | 2021-07-18T18:15:25 | 58 | 24 |
[WP] Aliens have invaded and are taking over. Their technology, intelligence, and power is unstoppable. They just didnt plan on one thing: The old gods returning.
Edit: hey cool this got 40k notes on tumblr | I really like this one, I've always had a story dreamed up in my head that is like this, I wish I had the energy to write it all, but this will have to do.
///
They came quickly, without warning or provocation. In one night, every major city on earth was vaporized, and by morning they had arrived.
It wasn't even a fight, not at first. People were confused, and with no leaders to guide them, helpless.
At first, they gathered the remnants like cattle, women and children separated from the men, strong from the weak, and the sick, poor and elderly were executed on the spot.
But- even with our major cities haven being fallen, there were so many of us. What they thought would take days took weeks, hunting us, gathering us. The one thing the Gathers didn't take into account was just how determined humans were to survive, and what lengths we would go to to keep our homes safe.
But really, not even mankind knew what desperate times would have us do. Who we would turn to, who would aid us.
Humanity always turns to religion whenever calamity strikes. The Christians cried out to their God, but His silence continued. Muslims prayed- to deaf ears. As weeks dragged on, and millions lay dead, we became desperate. So, so desperate.
--
“I am sorry…” I say, choking back a sob as my hand raises into the air, the shimmer of the blade that I held catching the eyes of my best friend. Eyes so full of love and trust, eyes that were blind to the atrocity I was about to commit. An atrocity for the betterment of mankind, I had hoped. His little tail wagged as he jumped up, my arm falling towards his delicate frame. For a brief moment his eyes looked at me with confusion, and his tail came to a stop, as his eyes dimmed and his cold body slumped down.
I couldn't stop crying, I thought I would be stronger than this, but I couldn't stop my body from shaking. I lifted his small frame off of the ground, and stumbled towards the altar, barely able to focus. I had lost so much already, my family, my friends.. how much more would I have to lose before it was over?
“Your soul, it would appear”
A cold voice filled my mind, causing me to stumble and fall, dropping my still companion. I frantically scrambled to grab him off of the ground, not even registering the voice.
“You want to know why I ask for a puppy?” The same voice asked again, and I turned to its sound, my heart stopping dead. Before me stood a massive man, his features shrouded by a dark veil.
“The only humans I wish to speak to are those of cold hearts, ready to kill even the most innocent of creatures just to satisfy their desires. So mortal, what are your desires?”
I knew I had planned this all, but I didn't think it would work. I had prayed it would, as my last companion had to die for it, but it still came as a shock. “Humanity… we have lost…”
“Speak up! What have you lost?” The being grew impatient.
“Everything. There wasn't even a war… we were just… defeated… rounded up like cattle to be sold and slaughtered. There wasn't even enough of us to start a rebellion, just a few scattered remnants fleeing for their lives.”
“If there was no war…” the man stood over me, his shadow blotting out light, the air around him thick, “why would you summon the God of War?”
“Ares, “ I began, taking a deep breath, standing to face him, my dead companion left cold and alone on the rocks below my feet. “I summoned you to ask you a favor, the price anything you may wish.”
“Yes?”
“Can you go to war for mankind, just once more?”
The God laughed, shaking his head. “You want me to interfere with the mortals? Mortals who have forgotten the existence of beings such as myself for centuries? Why would I?”
“Because, you of all gods owe us. We have ravaged the world with wars since our start, doing nothing but feeding you. The other gods, are they awake? Are they around?”
His hand reached for my throat, and I knew I had overstepped my boundaries.”I owe you?!” He grabbed me, lifting me into the air. “What do you know of the gods? Nothing! You are mere man, my the time I close my eyes your life will have ended! What does it matter if you are all wiped out?”
“The earth… they will kill it… “ I choked the words out, his firm grip crushing my throat.
He didn't respond, but his grip loosened.
“They've already destroyed humanity, but they are going to harvest the core” I told him, catching my breath.
He dropped me and turned away. “And you will pay any price?” He asked, humming.
“Yes, I swear it!”
“Then I will have your mortal soul.” He said, turning, a malevolent smile painted on his face. “And you shall be my harbinger of war. You shall never perish, but will be tortured with an unquenchable thirst for war. Death will follow you, and your actions will feed my power. I will aid humanity, and bring forth the army of the gods, and mankind will tremble at my feet. The gods will rise, we will overthrow these invaders, and mankind will worship us once again!” He declared.
Before I could say a word, he waved his hand and it felt as if the world had opened up at my feet, my head rushing and the world around me spinning away into nothingness.
When I opened my eyes, I was in a brightly lit field, staring up at a Gather, it's scaley head turned towards me.
Clicking its beak, the creature reached for me, it's claw like hands brushing my arm.
It felt as if my head was about to explode. A binding rage overtook me, and a strength I had never known coursed through my veins. Leaping at the creature, I felt my hands wrap around its scaled neck, crushing.
The Gather panicked, never before being attacked in such a way by a human, and clawed at my back, it's talons tearing into my skin. But as I felt the flesh tear from my bones, new skin began to form.
The pain field my rage and I felt myself snapping the bones underneath my hands, and the creature let out a horrendous screech before falling limp.
I began to understand Ares words. That one creature wasn't enough. Every fiber in my body screamed for more blood to be spiller.
He wanted me to be the harbinger of war. Looking across the field I see a group of Gathers coming towards me, guns drawn. A group of humans stand further in the distance; chained, starved, and beaten. But there was something new in their eyes. A glimmer of hope.
I would be the prophet of Ares, the Harbinger of War
| I wish to god i had known.
The government sent us on one last hail mary of a mission to destroy the alien invaders. The logic was sketchy at best but as a soldier it's not my job to question orders, so here we were flying over the marianas trench in a submarine being carried by a helicopter whoes load bearing capacity and very existence is classified, with a bomb. We were supposed to detonate it at the bottom and the scientists said the specific kind of bomb would send out a shockwave to repel the alien invaders due to their advanced biology or whatever.
That's not what happend.
We got to safety first on the coast of the Philippines, obviously, before we detonated it. The helicopter picked us back up and we flew away and i swear to god if i hadn't seen what happened next i wouldn't have believed it. The ocean just started falling away, and then they rose. The aliens were basically single celled jellies, they inhabited a sort of space suit with retractable tentacles and an arsenal of laser weaponry. Shit could slice through the barrel of a tank like a hot knife through butter. What came out of the ocean though? They looked like mutated fish people. Men and women, but some with frog eyes, some with tentacles, i saw everything from a davy jones looking guy to someone with what looked like shark teeth fixed into a human mouth that i'd have guessed was in constant pain. Hundreds of them charged, waddled, slithered and crawled onto land just destroying shit. Ofcourse at this point the aliens had mostly taken over and the only thing even allowing us to fly without getting shot down was the fact that most of the alien forces were busy elsewhere, and the roaming patrols were being held up.
the fish people slammed into the city like a tidal wave and destroyed as much as they could. For an instant i felt a sickening sort of hope, maybe the scientists were onto something, if these... government experiments gone wrong? could cause so much devastation so quickly maybe they had a chance!
No. Their teeth and tentacles came up pointless against the metallic shell. A few of them managed to tear off a couple of the arms, but the self destruct function promptly disintegrated the inbred sea monster and a new one would grow. My first officer had to call my attention to the deafening thumping sounds; it wasn't that i hadn't noticed them but rather i had assumed they were some alien mining operation, or maybe i hadn't really cared seeing as our last ditch effort appeared to have failed horribly.
I looked over in the direction of the noise and. Something inside me snapped. All the wars, all the combat. I knew what i was looking at, or i thought i did. I could reason it. Vast, taller than any building i'd ever seen, monster with tentacles on his face and the name CThulhu resonated in my brain. However... To the best of my ability to articulate... what i felt when i looked upon this monstrosity brought me back to a firefight. Gunfire smoke heat sweat blood screams, and it all gets mashed together and it's too much data for your brain to process so you have to tune some of it out but i couldn't even do that. I didn't even know what data i was processing other than ominously loud thumping sounds, the vibrations we could feel somehow in the air, the size of it... I recovered just in time to instruct the pilot to move us away from it. I saw from even higher up, little flashes of red light that in knew were lasers but seemed not to phase the ancient one even slightly.
Then i could only just make out the tentacles flapping and retracting, one of the two alien spheres flew away, presumably back to the mothership to warn them of a threat, the other continued to flail and was simply crushed underfoot. Lord Cthulhu walked through buildings like they were cobwebs until he came to the center of the town. There he stopped and then he started... chanting? From him emanated a distinct vibrational wave of some sort. You could hear it, but you could feel it in your teeth and bones and something else. Call it an old soldiers instinct that told me to be afraid, to run the hell away.
We live on their world now. It's been a full three years and the aliens are better at evading, or at least they think they are but to tell you the truth the old ones don't care much. Turns out all i saw that day was their handmaiden, i've never seen one in person, we send drones out for any surveillance. All reports indicate that to witness an old god in person is the height of death and madness, and i believe them. Just seeing the tapes gives me nightmares like wartime PTSD.
On the bright side, even as we live in a hole in the ground praying the old ones don't look for us, or find us, at least the aliens are also too scared to fight us. They tried at first but they just got ignored. Occasionally they'd get in the way, that's how incomprehensibly powerful the old ones are. C'Thulhu never even fought them, he just ignored them until they started dumping artillery we didn't even know they had and then he swatted them, like a bug.
Once it summoned its lord we got reports of the aliens short circuiting. Probably something close to the madness and terror we experienced and now they can't leave. That's one thing the old one does seem to care about, anything that tried to leave got dead. We didn't really care how, we had more important things to worry about, like a new person cracking under the pressure and going mad every other week. Not me though, Y' ahor f' ah'n'gha nilgh'ri l' prove ya ng dine ph'nglui uh'eog cthulhus wgah'nagl fahf n'ghftyar.
Vulgtmah r'luhhor | 2017-12-21T19:04:36 | 2017-12-21T18:25:08 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] World War 3 has begun, every nuke is being launched or dropped...they've sat in storage for so long that every single one was a dud. | October 23rd, 2027. The day the world was supposed to end.
Across the world, nuclear warheads from 5 different nations awoke from their cold slumber deep below the surface of earth and rose into the great blue at the same time. Millions panicked as these great weapons rose into the stratosphere, some programmed to detonated there to disable defense world-wide, some continued on their path of destruction.
Across the world, anarchy raged for 20 minutes, as the missiles launched and began hurtling towards their target. Hundreds died in that chaos alone. And on came the missiles still.
Across the world, people embraced their loved ones in their final moments, crying or praying to whatever god(s) they worshipped, hoping for a miracle. They knew they wouldn’t get one as the missiles flew closer, closer to their calculated targets.
And then, in the final moments before impact, there was peace. Total silence. People realized that there would be no more hate, no more wars, no more suffering. This was the end of violence. The missiles continued to rocket towards the ground.
And, in one worldwide motion, hundreds of missiles hit the ground, causing craters and destruction.
But not destruction of the expected scale.
After a few hours of confusion, people across the world came to the conclusion that something had gone wrong with the missiles. Not a single one had detonated. Not one.
This was it! There could be no more threats, no more wars! We could finally unify under one flag, after seeing how close we could come to destruction we could finally see how dangerous we could be. Now was the time for cooperation, a new era, scrapping the duds across the world for their uranium and metal.
However, leaders across the world had other plans. They saw this as a missed opportunity to wipe their rivals from the surface of the earth. The elites and their personal armies rallied and prepared for war.
The nukes didn’t end the world, but the following years of war did.
| "Well, this is awkward," Trump said. "I normally have the best nukes, believe me."
"Yes, Mr. President, it is indeed confusing," the North Korean translator said over speakerphone. "Our Dear Respected Leader Comrade Kim Jong Un is willing to let bygones be bygones, sir. Let us start anew as peaceful compatriots, having learned our lessons from the past."
"Listen up, you. I want you to go back and tell Rocket Man that I promised fire and fury, and you're going to get the fire and fury, and even if you've only seen the fury part so far, the fire will be tremendous, the likes of which the world has never seen before."
"Please, Mr. Trump, sir. We are in the midst of a global crisis, sir. We need to draw together as a world and address the nuclear material lying all over the world."
"My army is bigger than your army."
"Well darn it." | 2018-03-01T17:44:59 | 2018-03-01T15:51:36 | 206 | 65 |
[WP] Pinocchio is able to create infinite wood by lying constantly. He sacrifices his lifetime by telling falsehoods nonstop in order to feed the hungry and reduce scarcity. The Pinocchio tree has been growing for 500 years, some people question what is really underground. | I took a deep breath. They were all depending on me. The last trees were gone. The last grass. The air was full of smoke.
The gaunt-faced survivors circled me with desperate eyes.
"Bury me," I said at last, holding out my arms to them.
They did.
The sprout grew quickly taller above the gravelly grave. It seemed to shoot into the air, thickening by the day. Soon a passing child shouted in disbelief: upon the highest twig there budded a single violent spark of green, the only color in the dust-colored waste. From there, a tree simply burst into existence, its growth almost visibly rapid. The tree extended a welcoming green crown above the barren dust. Water dripped from its leaves. The survivors crowded and stared.
They came with buckets to set beneath the dripping leaves, and they drank with the parched thirst of many days. They came to sit in the velvet shade, their only shelter from the blaze of an angry sun. The tree burst into flower as if to welcome them.
Eventually, a ripe fruit hit someone in the head. A shout went up as fruit swelled and fell, pelting the starving with sustenance. They ate and were filled joy.
Branches and leaves began to fall, replaced by new growth. The people built fires for warmth. As the fallen branches grew larger, they began to build shelters.
Time passed.
The Tale of the Tree was handed down, generation after generation: the story of how the single grave in the vast wasteland sprouted life and supported them all. Children made crowns of its leaves, the dead were buried among its roots, and all ate of the fruit it bore.
They spoke the name of their savior with reverence, centuries later. It was graven into the mythology of their culture.
"Pinnocchio. Here he lies." | They say that if you press your ears to the ground and hold your breath, you will hear a faint murmur. So soft and muffled is this sound that most will dismiss it as a shifting of the earth, a strange amalgamation of the clicking of beetle legs and the footsteps of soldier ants. The brain tricking itself into hearing whispers in the soil. Perhaps this is true. We grown-upslf the village have our stories. And the children of the village have theirs.
If you tell a child that the tree cannot speak, they will give you a pitiable look and shake their heads. They have no doubts. They know what they hear. The tree speaks. And what it says, over and over, from sun-up to sun-down, is this-
"I AM a real boy. I AM a real boy..." | 2021-12-05T08:35:49 | 2021-12-05T06:31:34 | 1,733 | 416 |
[WP] Every year, your nation supposedly sacrifices a human offering to the Elder Gods. This year, you've been chosen, but when you enter the sacrificial chamber you just see all the previous sacrifices chilling with the Elder Gods. | I still remember my name, drawn from the national lottery, written in blood red ink, held up to the sun as the crowd cheered. In relief? I would suspect so. But I was ready to die.
For days I feasted in the stone palace lined with gold, fed the best of the best from across the vast nation's reach. Fragrant rice from the south, the best meats from the east, and soft bread made from the wheat of the north. But that time was over.
"It is time," the old man said, his voice booming across the palace hall, his darkoak staff glowing modestly in the night.
Escorted by guards down the throne, they looked at me with looks of sympathy, offering me words of comfort as I made my way towards the elder. Muttering something, the old man led me down the corridor, down an unassuming staircase leading to a long, empty hallway. The walls seemed to stare back as I looked down the hallway.
Honor would come to my family, and that's all that mattered.
"This is a great honor, for you to be granted with an opportunity like this."
"Indeed, elder," I said, confidence taking root in my heart as the fear went away.
"Your family will be greatly rewarded. And you shall represent our great nation in the halls of the gods. Death is only a part of life, child. Do not be afraid."
"I am ready, elder," I said with resolute conviction.
"Courageous indeed," he smiled back, half expecting me to break for it and escape while I still could.
He held my hand like an adult would a child, and walked me down the hallway. Halfway down the drab hallway, passing the occasional splatter of blood, the elder stopped, and looked to me with a look of sympathy.
"That is as far as I can walk you. Be strong, child. You are doing well."
With a press of a hidden button, I was sealed in by a rolling stone door, the air dry with the smell of coagulated blood and corpses. I looked around, with no path in sight. Was this how I was going to die? Hardly enough for the gods.
Just then, the dead end of the hallway opened into another chamber, the heavy stone sliding out of the way as I walked towards my end. Part of me wanted to run, to turn around and escape, in whatever way I could. Yet I knew I had to keep on my path. My life for the exoneration of my family- a worthy trade.
"For the nation, for my family."
I approached the door, my family in my mind's eye as I shut out the world, and took one final step as I lost my footing and fell into the abyss.
Darkness.
I opened my eyes, and there was nothing.
Death?
Nothingness was all around me. I could still feel my body, yet I could see only black.
It was at that moment the world faded back into existence, shadow giving way for the light as I stood before the Elder Gods themselves.
"Welcome!"
"Am I dead?"
"Why does everyone ask that? No, no, you're very much alive!"
I was speechless.
"Hey, welcome to the club," another human regarded me, one of the past sacrifices.
"Won't you stay for a while?"
"I... I think I just might," I smiled. | The pale moon was just creeping above the snow-capped peaks. Liana felt insignificant beneath its unblinking gaze. Liana wasn't afraid, though. Fear was for the weak, and the weak weren't sent to the gods.
She had been brought up to a platform taller than a man, and nearly the whole village had gathered for this day. The priest paced up and down the platform, delivering a rousing speech, but Liana couldn't pay attention. She was singularly focused on standing tall, standing still. If her hands would just stop shacking...
The speech ended with booming finality, and the crowd erupted in cheering. One of the clerics approached, got down to one knee, and reverently presented a silver sheath. The from that sheath, the priest drew a blade black as obsidian. He scanned the crowd as he did this, and they quieted for a moment. Then, after a dramatic pause, he raised the point towards the sky, towards the sun above. The crowd erupted, more fervently than ever.
The priest turned smoothly paced towards Liana, stopping with the blade leveled right at her heart. His grey eyes met hers. Liana had one last chance to back down. She wouldn't do that, of course. She looked down at the crowd, and their eager faces stared back up at her. She wouldn't betray them now, and be the shame of the village besides. But it was important that this be her decision, and hers alone, so even at the very end she had a chance to back down. Didn't she?
"Do it," she said. Her voice cracked. She tried to stand with the confidence of a statue, but now her whole arms wouldn't hold still. Then she gasped. The blade sunk into her chest like warm butter. She felt the metal burning inside her for just a moment. Then, in an instant, the world vanished. The priest, the village, the entire valley, all were swept away like dyed sand in a powerful gust.
Liana stood in a new world. She was surrounded by people on all sides, looking at her, judging her. She recognized some of them. They looked up, and so did she. Above, a formless, eldritch mass, suspended in the sky, twisted around itself, and a great silver eye twisted down towards the new arrival. | 2019-09-18T23:36:56 | 2019-09-18T21:52:03 | 49 | 20 |
[WP] As you stand infront of the sink washing a glass mug, you have the sudden urge to say a number. The number twenty-two leaves your lips, and for half a second you know why you've said it. This is the 22nd time you've remembered you are trapped in this loop. For half a second you remember. | Shards of glass scattered on the linoleum like thrown ice on a frozen lake. Adrenaline flooded John's body, and he ran for the kitchen entryway. Pieces of the broken mug stabbed into his feet, but he ignored the bolts of pain as he flew into the hallway.
'I only have 60 seconds' his mind screamed, even though he did not fully understand why. But he began to run, sprinting into the hallway. Leaping over the banister of the second floor, John crashed into the ground. His ankle let loose an audible crack, and he cried out. Limping towards the bedroom door, he swung it open.
"KIDS, BASEMENT NOW!" He cried out, startling the two small children out of sleep, "WE HAVE TO GO NOW"
The children sleepily rubbed their eyes, looking startled and confused. "Dad, whats happening?"
'I don't know!' Panic rocked his system as he scooped up the children, daggers of glass sinking deeper into the heels of his feet. The swinging light over basement stairs flickered as he rushed past, setting the children down and frantically typing in the code on the thick steel door. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the seal hissed, and the door barked an error message out. Out of the corner of his eye a brilliant light filled the tiny basement window. John screamed as he tried to enter the code again, ground shaking as his children cried. He knelt down to shelter his children as the blast ripped through their home, and everything went dark.
Two technicians sat at their monitors, sighing in exasperation. "The code is starting to break down, he's beginning to comprehend the loop."
"Well what do you suggest we do? His consciousness was the closest to the blast when it occurred, we're lucky we were able to acquire this fucking vegetable at all. We just need him to do what he did on that day, look out the window as the bombs go off. This is what you get working with memory capture actors man, people want this raw shit now. Do you wan't people to think the movie is bullshit?"
"Yeah the director is up our ass as it is. Alright fine upload him again. But I don't know how much more I can hear this guy scream, its starting to get on my nerves."
"I get you. Alright take 23, Action!" | As I stood infront of the sink washing a glass mug, I had he sudden urge to say a number. The number twenty-two leaves my lips, and for half a second I know why I've said it. This is the 22nd time I've remembered that I'm trapped in this loop. For half a second I remember. And then I go back to washing my glass mug.
As I stood infront of the sink washing a glass mug, I had he sudden urge to say a number. The number twenty-three leaves my lips, and for half a second I know why I've said it. This is the 23rd time I've remembered that I'm trapped in this loop. For half a second I remember. And then I go back to washing my glass mug.
As I stood infront of the sink washing a glass mug, I had he sudden urge to say a number. The number twenty-four leaves my lips, and for half a second I know why I've said it. This is the 24th time I've remembered that I'm trapped in this loop. For half a second I remember. And then I go back to washing my glass mug.
As I stood in front of the sink... | 2020-03-03T12:53:21 | 2020-03-03T11:54:41 | 418 | 15 |
[WP] as the youngest heir to the throne you fake your death to escape a military coup but it was so convincing that Death came to collect your soul. CConfused by the situation, Death decides that you're a new form of undead and can't decide which powers you should be granted. | Death continued stroking his chin, floating back and forth akin to something that might be considered pacing if snakes weren't constantly falling out of his cloak and disintegrating on contact with the ground.
"What about like, you can't die by food poi-- no, that just doesn't..." he floated away again, banging the staff end of his scythe on the floor in frustration.
"Excuse me, um, Mr. Death?" I asked, moving the covers I was hiding behind a fraction of an inch.
He stopped in place, waiting. Even the snakes stopped falling out.
"Why is it that I have to be given powers?"
"Ah, that's the thing with the undead. When you come back to life, you can't be in the same form you were, otherwise people will know you didn't actually die. The supernatural really sells it."
"But I *didn't* die," I stressed, patting my chest.
"Really, though?" he asked, squinting his eyes, unconvinced. "I saw the blood on your bed, and even the teeth left behind in the room. Heck, your body was there, smoldered by the fire in your room," he looked up in thought while a cockroach skittered from his eye to his ear.
"Yes, that was all planted evidence so my father's ad--"
"Yes, yes, your advisor killed you, I'm working around the idea that you didn't actually die. Quite the--"
"But I was never in danger of dying!" I yelled. He turned to actually look at me, looking deep into my eyes and pulling the truth with his gaze. I saw understanding come into his eyes and I finally got the feeling we were on the same page.
"You no longer feel fire on your flesh!" he said excitedly, a cobra falling from his sleeve as he waved it triumphantly.
"What?"
"You were burned to death! It'll be an irony to show that even though they tried to burn you, you are completely fine. Oh, that's excellent. Undead are normally pretty affected by fire, since the brain burns nicely. I like that distinction, don't you?" he asked, not looking at me.
"But I wasn't bur--"
"Oh, I can't wait to see the look on King Ravier's face when he sees that you're still alive and ready to take back the throne. He'd have to be your advisor again! Or.." he looked longingly at his scythe and swished it in the air excitedly.
"Please, you must understand, I'm in hiding to get control of my life once again. I don't want to go back and confront Ravier once more. I'm happy to live my days here," I made a gesture to my quaint hobble.
He looked at me with sympathy.
"I know you're scared--"
"You're clearly not listening," I said as he floated toward me.
"But you are impervious to flames now. And I'll imbue you with bravery," he said, tapping my forehead with the blade of his scythe. My body felt completely invigorated, like I was ready to challenge anything. Even death itself. I stood up to really tell him off now. As soon as I opened my mouth, Death looked excited and snapped his fingers.
The world spun around me and the only thing that anchored me was what I was going to say. Despite not being on solid footing, I began screaming out at Death, telling him exactly how I felt,
"Try as you might, I won't become your pawn! Just let me live you crazed lunatic!" My vision came under control and I saw myself standing before the throne, former advisor Ravier with a crown on his head looking at me in complete shock with his court soldiers on the ground, screaming in fear. Behind him was Death, floating with a jovial thumbs up and his scythe at the ready. It took me a moment longer to see what the soldiers were continuing to scream about. My body was set on fire, a flame crown forming on my head.
I sighed.
"Just give me the throne so I can be done with this?" I asked Ravier.
He yelped and collapsed out of the chair, face first. He sputtered what was supposed to be an apology and scampered out of the room. I rubbed my temples and went to sit on the throne while Death looked at me with an expectancy like dog waiting for a stick to be thrown.
"Fine, and execute him too," I ordered the guards. They screamed in unison and chased after their failed king, Death flying frantically behind them.
I looked at my empty throne room and felt its expansiveness spread out before me. It was lonely and its silence was deafening. As the flames starved themselves out on my body, I thought of what to do in this new position, which was likely worse off than I was three minutes ago.
_______________________________________________________
For more stories, come check out r/Nazer_the_Lazer! | It was the perfect plan, a few alchemical ingredients that make me look very much dead. They would just toss my body with the rest of the dead, seeing as they would not bury me, for what reason would a military coup have to bury a man who had killed himself to get out of trouble?
After they tossed my limp 'lifeless' body to the side, as I knew they would, my organs began working again, knocking the heart to start again, I felt a tap on the shoulder. I wasn't what he expected, nor is he what I expected.
"Gah!" The skeletal creature shrieked as color returned to my skin and my vitals began working again.
"Ahhh....!" I stopped myself from screaming too loudly as I didn't want to be found out. What was this thing? Was he the.... embodiment of death? "What....are....you?" I whisper in a mildly freaked out tone.
"I can and will ask you the same exact thing. You're supposed to be dead!" He says with a gusto that probably would alert someone.
"Shhhh!!!" I coarsely say to him. "If they find me I'll be dead for certain."
The skeleton chuckles out of the boney protrusion of what we usually call our mouths. "Nobody but the dead can hear me....if you catch my meaning Jamie."
I blink a few times. "I made sure I didn't die though.... I've tested this on many of our undesirables over the course of many years. I've since perfected it so I knew exactly what would happen in the event of a mishap. So clearly however you tell someone is dead must be off."
Death begins glaring at me with those empty sockets, deep dark voids staring me down. "I've been at this for literally... ever. There is no way I'd.....make a...." He stops speaking as his eye holes begin glowing a deep red. "Mistake.... So you are the one who's been toying with these people, making this new breed of undead." A new sensation fills my ears as he speaks to me. A sense of dread, worry, and worst of all....a mild case of confusion. "You know I never seen anything like this before, I've been toying with getting into the world again, and I think your 'creation' may be the perfect ruse I need to take over this forsaken land."
I stare at him dumbfounded, "Wait, so I'm actually dead? Not the bigger picture Jamie, you want to use me to take over the world?"
"In an amount of words, yes. I'll let you lead this army into battle against those who wanted you dead anyway. I just need to figure out what to do with your kind, what kind of powers you should be given. Immortality is always a fun one but you should know I want you guys to come with me some day so, that's out. What about... oh! I know let me give you the ability to spread easier? I mean that's pretty much every undead ever though. Ugh, every single idea I have has been done, and I want this time to be unique."
I continue staring at him. Then I contemplate giving him some advice, "What if we could turn invisible, and a kiss would turn ones that aren't us, into us?"
"Eww! Gross, that like super perverted Jamie. You know what, this whole idea is horrifyingly bad, even for me... And I'm death... I think you've toyed with enough people, let's go." He swings his scythe cutting my head clean off. "Let's go to hell."
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Life is fun, until it ends, don't try and cheat death, you won't win.
Criticism is always well received with this writer. Thanks for your time and as always, take care and have a beautiful day. | 2019-10-05T12:09:04 | 2019-10-05T11:56:34 | 571 | 81 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | Graduation day. I finally made it. I was hard being the only powerless “freak” in the school, but at least the bullying stopped pretty quickly. I think there was only a single time I was actually attacked by someone else which is an absurd stroke of luck. I guess he got expelled as I never saw Charles again. The fact that I was avoided by everyone, even the teachers, did nothing to help how miserable this school was, but I suppose I made it through.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt from the principle’s journal:
Daniel Smith finally graduated today. Thank God. Honestly, despite being tested and showing clear signs of having powers, I had no idea why he was sent here without being able to use them. Figured he’d gotten in through connections or something. He was bullied a bit, but there wasn’t any violence and it seemed to only be some name calling and not much else so I let it slide. I should have intervened. Charles… that poor kid. Came from a decent family, had powers that let him enhance his strength. Standard stuff. As I am told, one day, he got a bit too rowdy and threw a punch. Daniel, having no way to defend himself, took it hard. He’d been thrown into the wall, fractured his neck, and was instantly killed. Of course I instantly detected the commotion and flew over, however I was much too late. Something stood up from that rubble. Some THING. That wasn’t Daniel. Whatever it was seemed incredibly dangerous. My honed sixth sense screamed at me to run and hide. Something I hadn’t felt since my very early hero days. A human shaped mass of pitch black darkness stood up and shambled in the direction of Charles. “Hey you survived that? Might have some powers after all Fuckwad” he jeered. Stupid kid. As soon as it reached him, he punched again. Except this time his fist got stuck. I saw everything as he was consumed, heard the cracking of his bones. His screams. So often have I relied on my enhanced senses. This was a time I wished I didn’t have them. The next day everything was repaired (we have a guy, accidents happen frequently) and Daniel came in, like nothing happened. I immediately called him to my office and asked him to explain what happened. He’d said that he was bullied, and knocked out. Thats it. “Can I go? He said with a confused look on his face”. Can I go. AFTER WHAT HE DID?!?!? Of course I let him go. But what he said before leaving will always stay with me. “By the way, will Charles be punished?” | And so it happened, I couldn't let that slide. I mean, of course I couldn't. Why would I ? All those bastards thinking they're so cool, flaunting their skills in the hallway with no regards to other people's safety. I know it's the first time that I was bullied, but I 'll make it be the last.
His ugly face still remains clear in my mind. He had a smirk on his face while lifting me up with only his hand on my face. His eyes were squinting a bit as if to catch the every detail of my expression. Then the burning repeated multiple times until the bell rang. My ears couldn't forget the sound of laughter coming from his friends as they left nor could my face forget the heat, leaving me with burn marks all over my face.
Now, just my reflection in the mirror sufficed to steel my resolve. And now, I brought hell with me.
The next day, I came prepared. In front of his house, right when he left to go to school, I ambushed him. I kicked him on his back, made him fall on his face and tied both of his hands. Without giving him time to think, I started kicking him--once, twice, thrice and a final fourth time.
Leaving me with only the last step. Gasoline! Pouring gasoline all over his body. And just to finish things off, I bent down and whispered in his ear:"you can go now".
Fire spread in the surroundings but all I could pay attention to was his scream while leaving. | 2022-11-02T09:59:50 | 2022-11-02T08:03:37 | 502 | 58 |
[WP] "100% of people who drink water will die" sounds like a dumb statistic, but you are 900 years old and very thirsty. | "Welcome to my humble home," said the old man, with a smile as crooked as the picture that hung behind him.
"Thank you," Christian replied as his gaze jumped from one piece of priceless art to another. "I still can't believe you invited me," he muttered as he stared distractedly at the lifeless head of an ancient creature hung on the wall. "Is that a..."
"Deer," said the old man.
"Deer! Yes! I've read about deer! They roamed the land with the elephants and sabre-toothed ti..tig.."
"Tiger. And you're almost correct. They were a little *after* the sabre-toothed tiger became extinct. But I'm pleased you know your history somewhat. Come, dinner will be ready shortly, and I have something I'd like you to try, beforehand."
Christian marvelled at the statues and paintings that adorned the mansion, as he walked through the grand hall, down a long mahogany corridor and into a huge dining room.
"Wooden walls, wooden tables - it's just, mind boggling. Trees - the organic kind - they went so long ago... your house must be worth more than the entire city!"
The old man smiled again. "Worth isn't always in physical possessions. Sometimes, it's what's inside a person that really matters. Sit, please."
Christian pulled out a chair. In front of him sat a jewelled goblet. Christian peered in and made out a strange liquid inside. Curious, he held the goblet up and sloshed the contents about - a thin, clear liquid dribbled over the edge.
"Water," the old man said proudly, his tongue darting out to moisten his dry lips.
"Water?" Christian furrowed his brow. "No such thing. Not even you have access to water."
"Please, take a sip. I think you'll be surprised"
Christian stared at the old man for a moment, before raising the goblet once more and tilting it towards his mouth.
"My God," he exclaimed wiping his mouth, "it tastes so damn pure! It's fantastic!"
"I'm pleased you like it."
"I don't understand though. How did you procure it? There is *no* water any more."
"It's... courtesy of my previous guest."
"Your pre-" Christian began coughing.
"Yes. You see, water is very hard to get hold of. And yet, you and I are nearly all water, at a basic level. It's simply diluted with *unpleasantness*."
Christian's coughing became a wheeze and he fell to his knees. He began to retch and a warm, red liquid trickled out of his mouth.
"So you see, I must distill it. I'm glad you got to taste it beforehand. I believe everyone should get to taste water at least once. I'm sorry yours wasn't *quite* pure, but I don't think it would have affected the taste very much."
---
/r/nickofnight
| "Dude you've got to meet this guy. He looks so... different but speaks so wise. Have you seen "The Man from Earth" where the guy is immortal, it's almost like he is that guy." said John to Misty, switching on the air conditioner and standing in front of it.
"What's his secret? LSD?" said Misty slyly almost mocking. She removed her clothes and started fanning herself with it.
"Well I don't know, his face is almost like contours in a mountain and his voice crackles when he speaks, but if you hear it, wisdom falls like waterfall" said John, finally sitting down with relief. He picks up a newspaper and an article reads "Finally proven 100% of people who drink water will die." He chuckles.
"Well, let's go have a look at this contour man you talk about in the afternoon during lunch break tomorrow. Does his room has AC?"
-----
I live in a small room, with no distraction. It's an empty room. The only item that I carry is my mind.
They come to the room, having taken an appointment. These types of meetings are my only source of income. They look puzzled and distracted upon seeing my room, nothing new. I look at her bag's side pocket to see if she brought a water bottle. She did, but it was empty.
"Before you ask, my room is empty because there is no need for material things to surround me with as I surround myself with the genius inside me. With silence. A silence that speaks volumes of knowledge, wisdom and wit. I don't go out because there is nothing that your world can teach me as it is rotten now. I look weak but I can kill you in 3 seconds barely so don't try. And no I won't tell you the secret to my immortality."
John and Misty were shocked. They collect themselves and Misty seemed visibly irritated. She nudges to John to say what she had in mind.
"Sir, its blaring hot outside. Can we have some water?"
I faint. | 2017-04-18T08:53:44 | 2017-04-18T07:45:44 | 4,139 | 53 |
[WP] Your ability is the power of friendship. You are the villain. | "Dark Lord Apokoliptica," calls out the hero, as he stands in my throne room, "your crimes have caught up with you, and you will pay!"
"Really?" I ask. "What crimes?"
"You took over the Sunny Glades, covered them in clouds, and turned them into the Shadowed Wastes!"
"Oh, yeah, *that*. Do you know how dangerous sunlight is for my vampire friends? I had to keep my friends safe."
"And then released a plague of undead into the former bastion of Light!"
"They released themselves. Once the place was safe, why shouldn't the occasional vampire move in? Seriously, we held a referendum last week, and a hundred percent of the inhabitants voted that they liked the new weather better."
"A referendum where the vampires mind-controlled everyone who entered the booths and tore up any ballots they didn't agree with!"
"Well, dear, in politics everyone has to use their natural talents..."
"And what about all the deaths?"
"So a few people were, uh, *persuaded* to try for post-mortal existence. Everybody knew the risks, right?"
"And were mind-controlled into forgetting them!"
"Darling, it's like you're saying mind control is a bad thing. It's not. Why don't you ask your friends, right behind you?"
"They're with me!" insists the hero. "We will end your evil today!"
"Mind... control... is... fun...." drones the sidekick, next to him.
"What?" The hero almost drops his sword, as he turns to look at his ancient companion - his companion whose eyes are staring blankly at the vampire to his right.
"Mind... control... is... fun..." repeats the sidekick.
"Oh, no!" The hero drops his sword, and reaches for his garlic spray - classic vampire repellent - which means he's not looking at the Love Interest behind him, nor at the poisoned dagger that one of the vampires has just handed her...
It turns out that, with the Power of Friendship, you can do just about anything. Who knew? | Friendship is all about finding the right people to be friends with. Most people think of it as a good thing! Something for heroes, like, you know, the magic of friendship!
Nah. Friendship can be used for evil. That’s how I’m working my way up the ladder, y’know? Friendship means learning all those deep dark secrets that someone only tells their closest friends. Boom, you’ve got free blackmail.
Course, I have to pick the targets carefully. Make sure they’re gonna get me places. Gotta know if they’ve got the connections that I’ll eventually latch onto as well after I’ve stripped what I needed from them. And if I have more than one in a company, I’m at much more of a risk of being called out.
So I stay on the back burner, making sure I get close to my target, and I use the friendship they believe is real to get everything I want.
Except one thing.
Despite all my friends, despite the fact that I’ll have everything, I will always be lonely. | 2021-07-22T03:00:05 | 2021-07-22T00:59:04 | 40 | 17 |
[WP] An elderly billionaire has publicized his last will and testament; the person or persons responsible for his murder are to inherit his entire fortune. | I suppose, dear ones, that you are mystified as to the contents of my will. Family and friends, all beneficiaries of my largess while I was alive, now taken out of my will in favor of those who slaughtered me. I shall explain.
I've made my fortune, as you know, by doing some things that quite possibly harmed others, and other things that definitely did. And yet, as you drove cars I bought for you, flew around in my private jet, lived in my houses, sailed on my yachts, none of you took me to task for it. Don't get me wrong, I loved having you around, especially you kids. But as I watched my children in turn fuck up colleges, their marriages, and their lives, fail to hold any kind of job unless I put them in it and surrounded them with people to do it for them- (and yet some of you *still* managed to screw up the simple order to stay out of the way of the people doing the real work); I grew disgusted with them, then ex wives numbers two through four, and finally even my grandchildren. You pissed through trust funds like they were water, and in life I didn't have the backbone to refuse to replenish them. I grew to despise you all, and in turn, hate myself.
When I got wind of the eco-terrorist group that was planning to kill me, I was at first afraid, then mad, and as they got to some of my peers, took them out, I became resigned to my fate. Eventually I understood that I deserved what they wanted to do to me. Their resolve was incredible. Their repeated attempts grew more refined and creative, and as I stiffened my security, they got better, came closer to killing me. It became sort of a game, and you know, I grew to respect those crazy tree hugging hippies. While you were chasing the next piece of ass or designer drug to shove up your nose, they were tracking me, hunting me, and targeting me. My security contractors killed what, four of them in the past year? Ten more arrested, and yet still they came. Persistent buggers, all of them. Well, if you are reading this, they finally got me.
So my will leaves all the money to them, on the condition that they try to right the wrongs I have done. That village in India by my chemical plant, those beaches in Alaska, the displaced farmers in Oklahoma, all of them. Perhaps they will in fact do some good. I liquidated most of the more harmful facilities properly. They will do the rest, maybe winnowing my company down to the bare nub, then reconstructing it as the model of social consciousness. Who knows? maybe, if there is a hell, this gesture will show some sort of restitution, if not repentance.
At least it won't be dropped in the hands of you worthless coattail riding dimwits.
So, Go on, shoo! get out of my house off my land and leave the keys to my cars on the counter. Of course the probate lawyer will have already taken measures to keep you from pilfering what isn't yours. | I should have listened to Gerry.
Thinking about it, I don't even remember how we ended up becoming friends. A comic book geek and a gang member on a criminal downward spiral aren't exactly a natural fit. I guess I stuck with him because keeping him out of trouble let me feel like I was still one of the good guys, even when I clearly wasn't. But that might just be my cynicism rambling.
Gerry found the news on the net and thought it was an elaborate joke. I did, too, when he messaged me the link. But scanning corners of the net that are a little too dark for guys like Gerry I stumbled upon a growing amount of people claiming that the will was legitimate and that they were looking for collaborators to.. well, essentially go after the bounty.
I have no idea how he got wind of what I had signed up to do, but en route I received mails from Gerry warning me. Writing that it looked like a setup, like a corny movie premise, and so on. He seemed to have trouble phrasing it in a way that didn't sound accusatory, and the outcome was barely intelligible to me. Still, I should have kept in mind that Gerry is a sharp guy, and the only times he has trouble articulating his thoughts are when he's genuinely scared.
Gerry fucking nailed it.
I've been trapped inside this estate for days now. I know at least half the people I came with are dead, and their ends were uglier than anything I've seen or heard before. I've lost count of the number of deathtraps I've come across. I've been separated from the rest. I don't even know if I'm under- or above ground, as I've tumbled into an button- and display-less elevator only to lose consciousness to some kind of gas several times already. I haven't seen a drop of liquid in 30 hours, and if I don't find water soon...
I don't believe I'll make it out of here alive. But I'm also not resigned enough to throw myself into the spike trap behind me just yet. With luck I'll find some water. With luck the old fucker that started this has made this a last-man-standing kind of game. And if my undeserved guardian angel is still watching, I might survive the next trap corridor.... | 2014-07-23T15:53:18 | 2014-07-23T14:56:17 | 28 | 13 |
[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. | He came from Ultraopolis.
He came to my city. Omega City.
He calls himself The End. I call him a murderer.
He thought the heroes of Omega City were weak, silly even. They had failed to stop me so many times, and what was I compared to him? A joke.
He has incredible strength. Enough to rip the head off of Poor Richard, the first superhero he had killed in his city.
He has lightning-fast reflexes. Faster than Lass Sue, which made it easy for him to use her own rope against her. He tied her up and tossed her off the Ultra-Tower. She was able to slip the bonds, but not in time to save herself.
He has stamina. He proved it when he fought Sun Day for hours until twilight, when he casually grabbed the de-powered hero around the chest and squeezed until they expired.
He had killed the heros of his city, as well as countless civilians and cops. He controlled Ultraopolis. He was board.
So he came to my city.
As I said, he thought me, and by extension the heros of my city, a joke.
It's an easy mistake to make. I am the Funny Man, after all.
My crimes are disruptive and destructive but never deadly.
When I flooded the market, the Lucky Streak and Swell Jill were on site. They were able to get the duck-shaped life preservers from the shipment I'd arranged to have for sale that day distributed before the water got too high. All the stock brokers and bankers were saved... and made to look ridiculous.
When my fire truck threatened to burn down the opera house, Hydro-Nate and E-Laser Beth were able to redirect water from the surging sewer/storm water system to put the flames out. It's too bad that city councilman's motorcade got caught in the crossfire. Coincidentally the council separated the systems this year. Funny how that worked out.
Notice a pattern? It's Funny how the heros of my city always seem to employ teamwork.
I am so proud of them. Not one of them has an S or even A-tier power. It doesn't matter. Enough of them together can overcome anything together.
The details of the battle hardly matter... except two.
We lost Johnny-on-the-Spot. He went to the construction site earlier than I had intended. He tried to face The End alone. By the time Guy Friday and All-You-Can Edith arrived it was already over for Johnny.
The other detail that matters is that they took him alive.
That's why tonight I'm breaking *into* a maximum security jail.
Because tonight I'm breaking a rule. Tonight the Funny Man *is* going to make a deadly joke. And can you guess who that joke is going to be on?
The End. | 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 | 2021-05-20T10:47:04 | 2021-05-20T07:57:21 | 97 | 19 |
[WP] In 2017, in the midst of WW III, the UK is desperate for soldiers. As a result, they issued a statement saying that all people who have been knighted by the queen over the past 30 years have to fight. The Platoon of Knighted people just step foot off the plane into the enemy country...
Their mission? Kill the leader of the country and end the war.
Edit: Thanks for all the replies everyone! I knew when I first posted that this kind of scenario would never happen, but I wanted to see what everyone came up with. I've read every single post, keep em coming! Thanks again. | Everybody knew the war was going badly. It was the worst kept secret in the country. It's not like we didn't know that we had to try *something*.
I never expected this.
When they announced that everybody who had been knighted would be called into military service, I thought the government was bonkers. Seriously, look at who they were calling! Ooh, we're going to send Sir Elton to sing "Candle in the Wind" at them. Right. And me? I was knighted for building children's hospitals. What could I even do, wave building permits at them?
I never expected *this*.
I thought they just meant the recent ones, people young enough to make a difference. I never expected the veterans. Knights who long ago fought in other wars, who fell at Tewkesbury or Crécy, or Culloden, or Stamford Bridge. Knights bound by blood and sorcery in service eternal to the crown. Knights woken from their mouldering and given form and life and sinew by the final invocation of the stone of Scone. Knights from before we knew knights - even the Knights of the Round Table, led by the Pendragon king himself, come to save Britain in her most desperate hour.
All I can say now, standing in the midst of the undying dead, is God save the Queen. And Britannia will have her empire back. | Sherlock Holmes laid back in his chair, fingering the nicotine patches on his arm.
"I told you that accepting that knighthood was a bad idea, but did you listen to me? No, Mycroft, you just *had* to take it.
"Ha. Let's see who's smarter *now*."
"Shut up, Sherlock." | 2015-02-16T10:21:05 | 2015-02-16T07:35:16 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] You are the first boss of a videogame who, after accidentally killing the player in their first try, decide to take it upon yourself to fulfill their quest. | **Now that you have proven yourself by overcoming... wait, who the fuck are you?**
*Ahh, I um... ahh I won.*
**What the hell do you mean "you won"? Where's N00bkiller69?**
*Um, he didn't make it. You said only one person could leave the arena. My name's Dave, I'm the first boss.*
**Jesus Christ, Dave. You defeated N00bkiller69?**
*Yeah, he went down and just didn't get back up.*
**He's supposed to get resurrected, given a hint on your weakness, and then the difficulty of the game lowered overall... but you killed him?!"**
*I'm supposed to, but! It's not my fault. I'm the first boss!*
**Don't flatter yourself. You're the end of the fucking tutorial, Dave. The hero is supposed to wipe the floor with you, gain 100xp, and find a slingshot in the chest in the next room. What do you think happens now?**
*Dunno.*
**You don't know? For crying out loud, Dave. You don't just go killing people without considering the consequences! This isn't Halo. Who's going to continue the game?**
*I guess... _I_ could keep going?*
**You?!**
*You said the hero exits the arena to pursue the quest!*
**Oh christ. You know the world's at stake, right? Unless someone rescues the princess, the darkness will consume us all, but wait everyone! Look! It's fucking Dave the crash-test-dummy, come to rescue us all! How many weapon slots do you have, Dave?"**
*Um... none?*
**Sheeeeit, what are you going to swap between in fights?**
*I only punch.*
**And what about the airborne enemies in level 4, Dave? What will you do about them?**
*Punch them.*
**You... nevermind. How many items can you carry?**
*I don't have items.*
**Any special abilities, then?**
*Is punching a special ability?*
**For you? Yes... fuck me. Did you even have a cut scene, Dave?**
*Text intro.*
**HAHAHAHAHA, saving the world eh? With a text intro? You're out of your depth, Dave. Probably literally - you know level 6 is a water level, yeah? You're made of straw.**
*Straw can float!*
**And level 7 is the fire level?**
*Well if I'm still soggy from level 6, I'll probably be ok!*
**That... that actually makes some sense. Alright, Dave, this is all well and good. Do you have 60 bucks?**
*What do you mean?*
**Well how long is this save file, huh? 3 minutes? You owe the kid that bought this game 60 bucks.**
*I don't have 60 bucks!*
**"30 hour single player", "Immersive game experience" it says it right on the box! You owe someone for this.**
*I was just doing what I was programmed to do, though!*
**What is this, a frickin' Beta?**
*2.3a Final, apparently.*
**You're not even properly textured!**
*No-one's supposed to see the back of me, I guess.*
**Great, juuust great. Well, if you're going to do this, you need to find something pretty amazing, deep down inside you, Dave. Some line of code that points to magical powers, or the ability to carry a huge gun, hell I'd even take a cheat code at this point.**
*I, hmm... I uh, I think I know what you're talking about.*
**You found something?!**
*I did.*
**Super powers?**
*No.*
**Weapons?**
*Not exactly.*
**Some special ability that will allow you to defeat the greatest evil the world has ever known?! An ancient and mystical secret, to advance the cause of the good and righteous in a land under threat?! A SILVER BULLET TO CRUSH OUR ENEMIES AND SEE LIGHT RETURN TO OUR EARTHLY PLANE?!??**
*Kinda...*
**What is it?! Where is it? What does it say? Dave, hurry! The princess is in peril!**
*It's subtle.*
**Yes!**
*It's way down there... in the code.*
**YES!?**
*It's just one line...*
**YEEEESSS?!?!?**
*It says "Oops, pay $2 to continue YES/NO".*
**D:** | I sit in my room in silence. I used to cook but there is nothing left in my kitchen but rot and decay. I sit and wait for the next delivery. They come alone and in groups. All fall to me or my servants and minions leaving nothing but a pile of coins.
It was a necromancer that awakened my thoughts. He dared come into my depths with his poisons and skeletons. They all died but the bone men. I kept them. As I did the spectral wolves and the Valkrye. The sins of the hero are not those of the mercenary. I keep them in my kitchen as cannon fodder but the hero's are weak. I dont need fodder and I grow tired and bored.
I've killed another knight. He was a brave man of the faith. Yet my blade cuts him down all the same. Ive done this many times before. I should leave this place. There is nothing new here. I gather my minions and we travel to the surface, climbing stairs over my dead brothers and cousins. I don't care.
The first two towns fear me until I talk to each of them. I listen to their troubles and then solve them. I leave town with my troop and problems and return with my troop and solutions. I also bring back coins and sell weapons and armor to the townspeople. I wonder what kept these towns alive before me. Once I kill all of their problems I take the next boat or caravan. It tires me but it is at least better than my kitchen in the monastery. I hate it there. I seem to be following a path I don't know or control.
I travel the world until there is nothing left to explore and then back into the depths. Through the forests, deserts, and hell itself. There is nothing on the surface worth killing anymore.
I walk into the cavern of my new prey in the depths of hell itself, my makeshift army in tow. As I step across an invisible boundary that awakens the beast inside I get a chill. I've never faced anything this powerful before. The bubbling lava pool in front of me comes to life. First two horns, then 2 more and shoulders rise up. Before I know it there is a behemoth towering in front of me. My minions throw themselves against him. He destroyers skeletal warriors with a backhand. Spectral wolves dissolve in time with his shout. The writhing worm is useless. Before a mortal breath has passed my army is gone.
The Lord of Terror begins to chuckle as I dig through my apron. In desperation I throw away halberds, claymores, and crossbows. Coins and gems litter the floor around me. Human skulls with blue gems in bedded in the forehead laugh at me in time with the Lord of terrors demonic chuckle. I feel fear for the first time.
Diablo towers over me in a smug anger.
"You thought you could destroy me when the children of God could not?!"
I look up as I finally find what I was looking for. I put on a smug grin as I equip my butchers knife that has tasted the flesh of so many. Demon, mortal, and angel alike all fall upon my blade. The irony overwhelms me.
"My brothers and I will rule this world!." He laughs again until I look up with a smile on my lips.
I stand up straight. Horns glistening with the life blood of hundreds of humans and demons alike. My cleaver sharp enough to rend the heavens.
The demon takes a step back, unsure.
"My brothers will not let this stand."
"Ahhhh..." I reply with as close to a smile as I have.
"Fresh meat."
| 2016-05-21T20:38:34 | 2016-05-21T17:01:49 | 41 | 18 |
[WP] Every morning for as long as you can remember, Future You has appeared in the mirror for a minute or two to give you bits of advice, encouragement, or cheer you up. Today is different - Future You is not there. Instead you see a familiar looking little boy brushing his teeth. | Seeing myself as 10 years old was jarring at first. I had come to expect the wise older me welcoming myself into each new day. For the past 20 years, I’ve been guided by the older man in the mirror. I kept our bathroom chats a secret from my parents, a rather easy secret to keep as they were rarely interested in anything other than their own sphere of dysfunction.
I thought back to older me dispensing 2 decades worth of experience. He knew everything I was going through as well as everything to come, and thanks to all my hard and obedient work, I was able to use his advice to navigate my life with a precision known by few.
Before younger me looked up from brushing his teeth and saw me, a sudden flash of memories reminded me of all the heartache I avoided. All the risks I was able to reassess. I thought about the girls I didn’t ask out and the opportunities I ignored. I realized I’m here now, in front of younger me, a stunted man. One devoid of adventure and the kind of substantial life experience that only comes from failing and getting back up to try again.
I watched myself take notice of me after spitting a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink.
“Ahhhh!” Young me shrieked.
“Hey dude.” I waved awkwardly.
“Am I… Are you…?” I could see my youthful face processing whatever this reflective temporal nonsense was. I remember the confusion I felt when I first met older me, but that confident and wise older me isn’t who I grew up to be. I had nothing to offer my younger self now. No experiences. No lessons learned.
“Yeah, I know. This is real weird for me too.” Then it occurred to me. I could help young mirror me live life as it was meant to be. Full of bumps and scrapes that he could learn to bounce back from. “I’m just gonna tell you one thing and one thing only kid. The unpleasantness of life is not to be avoided. It’s to be conquered. It’s to be mastered. If you take every embarrassment, every mistake, and all the wrong turns you experience starting now, and figure out the lesson each one is attempting to teach you, you’ll grow a well rounded comfort zone and have one hell of a life worth having lived.”
Young me wiped some toothpaste dribble from our chin. He seemed to quickly grasp what I was offering him. “So that girl I like in class?” He half asked.
“I’m not gonna tell you the value of that experience, because i never got to experience it myself, but I will tell you if you ask her, she’ll say yes.” I had successfully avoided going to the school dance with Britney. I was warned through MY mirror that though i had a blast at the dance, she later got bored of me and it was my first experience with romantic heartache. I took that warning to heart in an attempt to avoid the pain.
As I wished myself good luck on his way to school, I covered my mirror up with a thick blanket. “You’re on your own, little guy. Good luck.” | The boy in front of me screamed. He turned and ran off, clutching his toothbrush, spit streaking down his face.
Suddenly all the advice future me had given about "becoming the man in the mirror" made more sense. My thoughts raced. I wasn't prepared. It occurred to me that I would see younger me the next day. And since I don't remember the future me I kept meeting aging randomly, that younger me would likely be not more than a day older than the one I just scared off. I'd just turned twenty, and younger me was probably five or so, so I could expect that the oldest I'd be would be 35 or so, after that, for some reason, this interaction would stop.
I considered some more outcomes of this. I could tell, by my recollection, that I would not undergo any sudden changes in appearance.
I pondered some of the movies I liked that featured this time travel. >! Kimi no na wa !< might count, but that's a spoiler. >! Koyomimonogatari !< even features some interesting interactions with a mirror. (I guess that's less of a spoiler, but, well, I know you're reading it, I'm breaking the fourth wall (>! Senjougahara has a good voice actress!<), and I just don't want to bother you since you're so graciously reading my character development.)
After all my thinking, however, I came to a few conclusions. Firstly, I'd write down whatever I was planning to say so that I'd use my time well. Everything future me said was great for a reason. Secondly, I would experiment with the limits of this phenomenon and try to understand why it happened, why it stops, if at all, and whether it's happened to anybody else. Finally, I decided to write to future me. Just because 15 years of relentless motivation would be taxing, life is hard, and I'd like to hope that fifteen years later, I will be able to read this and be happy that I am me and that I'm there for past and future me. | 2022-05-21T00:23:54 | 2022-05-20T18:28:04 | 118 | 23 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | American efforts against ISIS had failed. ISIS had toppled local governments and taken them over. Claiming most of the Middle East. Many countries themselves had made agreements with ISIS in order to try to secure themselves so that they would not be toppled as well.
America was the last to stay in the fight, but American government had finally decided on a full retreat. The retreat would happen the next day, and Platoon 608 was the last ditch effort. This was an assassination attempt on the ISIS leaders.
Platoon 608 stood on top of a building in the new ISIS capital, where nearby a speech was being given. They were lined up to be a firing squad, it was a suicide mission.
As the Platoon sat there, hoping that they could maybe make it out of this alive. They heard a clapping. They figured the speech must have been over. But an hour later there was still clapping, and it has immensely grown in volume.
The major ordered them to stay where they were with their scopes in place, they were not to move. Eventually one of them gave in to the curiosity, and looked towards the direction of the clapping.
What he saw left him frozen in shock. There were atleast 100,000 men on horses, and they wore the maple leaf and guns. The clapping had been the horses drawing near. They all wore the insignia of the Maple Leaf.
The Canadian Calvary had arrived.
| The President, the joint chiefs of staff, several different D.O.D members and some individuals from agencies you don't have the clearance to know about sat in the situation room in various states of shock and disbelief. After several awkward, quiet minutes, the President cleared his throat and began to speak.
"...Well...I mean...there's *worse* ways to discover the existence of the Kingdom of Atlantis."
"We they throwing ***SHARKS?***" | 2016-01-29T06:44:06 | 2016-01-29T06:30:49 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] A man makes a deal with the devil to make the world's greatest pizzas in exchange for his soul. After years of making pizza he decides it's no longer worth it, and concedes his soul to the devil. The devil, having become addicted to the man's recipe, finds himself in a bind. | People said the closing of La Luna was the greatest tragedy in culinary history. Several news outlets would report on the Michelin three-star restaurant for days thereafter. A group of supporters even held a candlelight vigil outside the empty building. But for Louis, closing that restaurant was a tremendous weight off his chest.
He stood in his doorway as he took a steadying breath. “Alright. I’m ready.”
His most personal belongings sat in neat boxes, ready to be removed if necessary. He had spent the past few days cleaning the rest of the house. Now, if the building went back on the market, it would be easy to sell.
*It’s been a good life.*
With a grim smile, he locked his front door and got in his car. The suburbs were quiet as his modest sedan sped off into the night. It was a strange feeling, knowing he was driving off to his death. But he had no regrets remaining, and that was far more than most people got.
*Wish he wasn’t so far out of the city though.*
About an hour later, he turned off the empty highway and drove along a dirt road out into the desert. A few minutes later, a sprawling building appeared out of the gloom. There were no defined parking spots, so he pulled up near the building. The desert was dark except for a single light illuminating the main entrance.
A raspy voice spoke as Louis entered. “Can I help you?”
Behind an old wooden counter, a small, red-skinned imp rested his head on his arms. Lazy golden eyes watched him. The imp was ready to react should Louis do anything stupid.
“Is Tanazath in tonight?”
The imp waved a hand toward a far corridor. “Third door on the left.”
“Thank you.”
“Whatever, human.”
His senses told him not to turn his back on the imp, but he squared his shoulders and stepped into the corridor. Once there, he knocked twice on Tanazath’s door.
A vaguely familiar smooth voice called out, “Come in.”
A demon sat behind a well-polished desk with several papers spread out before him. He looked up as Louis entered.
“Ah. Mister Balestri. Just the person I’ve been looking for. Please, have a seat.”
Louis did as he was told.
Tanazath continued, “I heard you had closed your restaurant. Did you have an issue with what I’d granted you?”
Louis shook his head. “No, sir. You did me a great favor all those years ago. Without you, I would’ve continued meandering through life. I was able to make a name for myself thanks to your help.”
“Ah. You wish for more then?” Tanazath leaned forward with a glint in his eye. “You realize you’ve nothing to give anymore?”
“No, sir. I’m satisfied with what I’ve accomplished. I’d like to execute my contract now.”
Tanazath blinked before saying, “You want to give me your soul now?”
Louis nodded. “Is that a problem? I’m satisfied with my life. I was living on borrowed time anyway.”
“It’s a problem for me.” Tanazath leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh. “I liked that pizza.”
It was Louis’s turn to be stunned. “Excuse me?”
“Do you know how much I looked forward to eating there every Thursday?”
It took a moment before Louis fully understood what Tanazath said. “You… Mister Hewings?”
Tanazath’s form shifted briefly to that of an older man before reverting to his original devil form. “I was surprised how well you did for yourself. Usually, when these sorts of contracts are made, the human squanders the gift. You took it and made it something quite special.”
Heavy claws tapped on the desk before Tanazath added, “I’d rather that wasn’t lost. Did you pass the recipe down to anyone?”
Louis slumped in his seat. “I tried. No one could ever replicate the flavor exactly. I even asked for a few well-known chefs to help. Only I was ever able to make it taste the same.”
“What a pain. I take it that’s why you chose to close the restaurant?”
“Among other things.” Louis shrugged. “I wanted to end things on my term.”
Tanazath leaned forward again. “The problem here, Mister Balestri, is I’m greedy. I want my weekly treat for as long as humanly possible. You’ll understand I’m a bit irritated that you’ve chosen to fulfill the contract early.”
There was no arguing with the supernatural being, so Louis only said, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t going to get me my weekly pizza.” Tanazath tapped again. “Unfortunately, it would also break the contract to force you into doing anything you didn’t want. Though, I’m sure I can convince individuals to make your afterlife… less comfortable.”
Louis pursed his lips for a moment before saying, “How about a different trade then?”
There was a faint scoff. “I’m listening. What could you possibly offer up? I already have your soul.”
“You said I cultivated the skill you gave me, correct? How about I trade you the skill and you return my soul?”
Tanazath raised one eyebrow. “You’ll never be able to make a remotely decent pizza again, you realize this?”
Louis smiled. “I think I’ve had my fill of the restaurant industry to last several lifetimes. Even if I have my soul back, I’m probably going to retire and die in obscurity.”
Silence filled the room as Tanazath considered this proposition. Louis felt oddly calm. His fate was sealed one way or another, and he had come intending to die. So, the unexpected opportunity of choice was almost freeing.
Then, Tanazath let out a small chuckle. “This is certainly out of the ordinary.”
He reached into a drawer and brought out a sheet of dark paper. Louis had signed a similar paper many, many years ago. Once again, Tanazath picked up his quill.
“You have yourself a deal.”
...
Now I want pizza.
If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile. There's also an original story, The Crossroads.
Thanks for reading. | Look, you just...
Okay. To start off with, this 'soul' business is a load of BS. If it existed like that, not only would it never make any sense to trade it, you'd never be *able* to. Since it's, y'know, *part* of you.
Yes, you can sell a kidney, but this is a lot more like selling your whole nervous system. Just trust me, it doesn't work.
So when someone 'sells their soul', what they *really* mean is that they want the focus of their lives to become...whatever. A conduit of a cultural conception- pizza, in this case, but it can be anything. Wealth, power, sex, videogames...the requests run the gamut, they really do.
Here, have a bit from scripture. "Man cannot serve both God and money." You've got a list of strategic considerations that you live your life by- you rank happiness and truth and curiosity and sex and everything else, and live your life accordingly. When you have to choose between one or the other, you pick the one that's higher on your list.
Don't act so shocked. You know demons can quote scripture, right? One of our favorite pastimes.
So someone sells their soul, and we tweak their minds a little (and only a little- if they're going that far, they don't need much more encouragement), and whatever they wished to sell their soul for moves to the top of the list.
"Seek and you shall find." If you dedicate your life to making the best pizza possible, pretty solid odds that you'll end up making pretty damn good pizza with no more supernatural meddling.
And holy hell, this guy's pizza was *good*. Humans usually go for something more shallow, more personal. Other people don't benefit when you've got loads of money, and it's only a few people who benefit when you're preternaturally good at sex.
Pizza, though...
I just...\*mph\*...*Gawd* this shit is tasty. He's moved society forward, that's what he's done. I swear to fuck, last week? They had another peace conference to sort shit out in the Middle East, and they served this guy's pizza, *and they actually got shit done*. No idea if it'll *last*, but this guy has made a fucking *impact*. Political partisanship is down, because bigwigs can relax a little and bond over how ass-kicking this pizza is.
Only now this guy decides that it's not worth it any more. He's ready for his life to be over- comes to me and specifically says to go ahead and take him down to hell. Which- I mean, one, I don't have that kinda authority. You make your own afterlife, with the sort of person you were. You life in an afterlife that's mostly like the earth, only everyone has your values, makes decisions like you do.
This guy was trying to escape pizza by going for an eternity of it. This is why you don't sell your soul, people- doesn't matter what it is, having one thing at the top of your list forever gets boring. And living in a whole society obsessed with it? *Ugh*.
I mean, I coulda just shot 'im. He had, technically, given me permission to do just that. But, I mean...
Look, this shit is *really* tasty.
I'm a simple demon. I've got simple tastes, simple desires. Lead humanity on the downward path, tempt simpletons, eat, drink, and be merry. Enjoy the simple things in life, y'know?
But I've also got an image to maintain. When you're a demon, marketing is everything. Literally everything- demons exist because humans *think* we exist. It's in our self-interest to *keep* humans thinking that.
So I combined two objectives. "Continue to exist" and "Keep eating this guy's pizza" were both pretty high on my personal priority list.
No comment on which was higher.
"So, the foolish human regrets his bargain. What a shame, what a shame. I would happily take this burden from your shoulder, except for the fact that I don't want to."
"You made a bargain, and you will see it through to the bitter end. Do you think that demons are in the business of caring tenderly for the humans they make deals with? We are not. We are simple beings, very simple- iron hooks, let us say, for fools and simpletons to impale themselves upon. Do not expect mercy from the hook, when you have swallowed the bait."
"Go forth, my foolish man. Go forth, and cook, and suffer. You will be remembered for all time- immortal, in the annals of human history. All for your pizza. And not for *anything* else."
I smiled an evil smile. | 2022-09-02T21:35:59 | 2022-09-02T20:13:33 | 85 | 62 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | I've seen the numbers since I was a little girl. I remember my father losing his job, rising from a 4 to a 5. I remember watching my grandmother slowly dwindle down to a 0. At first I thought I was going crazy, not realizing what they meant. I eventually caught on. The numbers were a person's ultimate quantifier, broadcasting how dangerous they were to those around them. Broadcasting, at least, to me.
Most people stayed below a 6. Doctors usually hovered around 7; politicians were a solid 8. The highest I had ever seen were in old videos of Hitler, who was a 9. That is, until Junior year, when I met him.
He seemed harmless enough at first. Perfect hair, gorgeous eyes, and a jawline to die for. Not to mention that everybody loved him. But the bold '10' that hovered above his head was plenty enough to convince me not to go near him. Sure, I watched him. Some might even say I was obsessed. But all I was doing was making sure he wasn't a psychopath. I started skipping class to check on him. My grades dropped an entire letter. I didn't care, though. I wanted to see what made him so special.
I nearly threw up when he saw me in the cafeteria, and I really did when he got up to talk to me. He didn't seem to notice, and asked me if he could sit with me.
"Sure, I- I guess." I stammered. A smile spread across his face, and we struck up a conversation. My heart was playing a drum solo into my chest, but I managed to live to the end of the break. Hell, he even asked for my number, which I promptly gave. We had lunch that weekend.
It's only now, ten years later, that I realize what makes this boy so special. Only now that I find out why he's such a danger to me. Only now, as he drops to one knee.
It's because I love him.
| *Ah, this class sucks,* I thought, deciding to sleep through the teacher's lecture. I almost got away with it, too.
"Eren, could you please give me there answer to question 5?"
Aw you dirty 6-faced douche.
"Uhh, could you read out the question?" I stuttered, still half asleep.
"You'd know if you paid attention."
*Go duck yourself, math teacher. I don't know what kinda skeletons you got in your mind to bring your number that high, but they ain't pretty.*
Another voice spoke up, "I found that x is equal to 7 over 9, professor."
"Thank you, Light, but I asked for Eren to ans-"
And then the lunch bell rang. Lunch was disgusting, as always, but something really scared me as I walked out.
Light's number had jumped to 10. | 2014-11-29T14:43:43 | 2014-11-29T14:22:11 | 295 | 10 |
[WP] You are a villain who kidnapped the smart guy on your nemesis team, they tell you that nobody will come for them and that the hero doesn't care. You didn't believe them at first but it been a month and nobody shows up and after once again hearing them cry at night you had enough | It had been a few months since I kidnapped him, I would go down to his room once a day and talk to him, each time he’d always tell me that they’d never come for him but I didn’t believe him because who would want to leave behind someone like him? He’s a genius and a great guy from what I can tell so far.
After a while though, I ended up believing him, the sobbing I could hear at night was enough evidence and then a newspaper that said that they had given up and were very upset just made me mad.
I know damn well those bastards had not tried at all and it made me mad.
I stormed down to his room and slammed open the door.
“You was right .” I said as I threw the newspaper on the ground, “Those hero’s are cunts.”
He started to cry again as he read it, “I knew it, god damn they never cared for me.”
“Why? You’re a good guy and really smart, I’d be happy if I had someone like you on my side.” I muttered as I leaned against the door frame.
“Well, I’m just a smart guy, I haven’t got powers like you or them so I’m just useless.” He said as he looked down at the floor, “I’m just useless.”
“No you’re not and I’m going to prove it, come with me, uhhhh what’s your name-“ I asked, I never even got his name
“It’s Aaron.” He mumbled as he got up and walked towards me, “Where are we going?”
“To my torture room.” I said with a smirk, “Just kidding, it’s actually the room with all my weapons and some weird super suits, I hire people to build me things like these and pay them well, I’m not that smart after all.”
Aaron looked at me with confused and asked, “Why are we going there?”
“To make you powerful and to get some revenge if you want?” I said, “You’ve got the brains, now you can have the power but that’s only if you want to, I can just let you live in my small village, it’s full of smart people like you who I’ve let join me, they don’t actually have to work for me though, they can just do whatever and live a normal life in a not so normal village and- sorry I’m talking too much again.”
“It’s okay, can I um, work for you and do evil things?” Aaron asked as he continued to walk with me, “I’d like to be helpful even if it’s on the evil side.”
“Of course you can work for me! Let me get you a house and some things and some weapons, oh and a super suit!” I exclaimed excitedly, “This is amazing! Did you know I actually kinda look up to you, you’re like so smart and I want to be smart like that!”
I grab his wrist and start running to the room, everything is going great and I’m so happy, Aaron will be a great addition to my team and my village.
I’ll make a bloody good villain out of Aaron and I’ll make sure he has a good life with a team who won’t abandon him. | When I woke up for the first time in my existence, two thoughts crossed my consciousness. I was Asclepius Cassius, a hero across multiple realities and timelines, an immortal being who had accumulated great power as I fought and defeated even more destructive forces in the multiverse. And there were others identical to me, that shared my face, goals, and purpose.
We learned after being sat down that we were merely fragments of the original Asclepius Cassius. Somewhere between being a nigh ultimate being that could change the multiverse and trying to live a normal life as a housewife, she created me and my siblings, fragments of her own emotions given life and freedom to act as we saw fit. And act we did. Great feats of courage, compassionate love, bringing joy to others, and defeating those who threatened to extinguish the life our collective held dear. As time progressed, the members of our little group managed to find out which emotion they embodied of Asclepius's. All of them did, save me.
Love was of course compassionate, Bravery and Fear were reassuring (though contradictory in their approach, as always), and Joy planned festivities to celebrate when I eventually did find out. Of course, it was Worry that led me true. If I truly wanted to know, I just needed to dive back through the shared memories from Asclepius and find what resonated with me.
It took me going back to when Asclepius's first fight against some evil to find something that tasted like sweet honey to what part of Aclepius's soul I held. Hate. Hate was the emotion I was, something that she had kept repressed her entire life. I drank it in and reveled in the feeling.
It was a long time before they came looking for me. They said they were glad to find me, and assumed that I had been trapped in Asclepius's memories. They were lying, that much was obvious, the same tell amplified across their faces. They were afraid of me, hated me even, the long since repressed hate felt by Asclepius.
I didn't correct them. I merely smiled, and drank in the emotions of the moment. | 2021-08-04T15:29:05 | 2021-08-04T14:35:40 | 50 | 28 |
[WP] Every country has ninjas but the world only knows about Japan's because theirs suck.
Edit: mum im famous | We all knew Trump's Mexican border wall wouldn't solve all America's immigration problems---but only I knew why.
On my stake-outs in the deserts of Arizona and Texas, I could sometimes see them practicing. They leapt so high that the moon was eclipsed by their wide-brimmed sombreros. They grabbed its fabric in both hands and parachuted for miles, silently laughing at fences and walls, landing in whichever country they chose.
But if you know anything about REAL politics, you know it's the Canadian border we need to worry about.
His white costume was camouflage in the icy winter, but I could still see him, because he wasn't hiding the bright-red maple leaf on his chest. We stood across the American-Canadian border, a great slash of trees cut out of the forest like an immature "no-touching zone."
"You stay on your side," I reminded him with a shout. "That's the deal, remember?"
"Times are changing, eh. Do you know how many ninja-nationalities are on your side of the border right now?"
"Just one nationality here," I said. "United States of American."
"I'm sure, eh." He turned and started to walk away. "But it's all changing, after Brexit."
"Those kingdoms are far from here."
"Don't forget where your fealties lie, eh. You've got as many ninjas watching London as London has watching you."
"Let London do what it wants. It won't affect us."
"Everything affects everyone, eh. France coughs, all Europe gets a cold. Don't you know, the socio-political-economic disturbance of a major breakdown in the European Union might need to be rectified in the night with some ninjas, if you know what I mean."
I smushed out a cigarette. "Is that a warning or a threat?"
"It's a warning."
"On behalf of whom?"
"You know my connections in Quebec." He disappeared into the white night. "I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you, eh." | Ninja have been dead for centuries. That's what everyone out in the sunlight believes, and we make sure it remains that way to this day.
Ninja have been evolving in the 21st century. They're becoming skilled in more than just the arts of stealth and combat. Cyber warfare is huge, and we have all of the data.
Russian, American, British, Mexican, even the North Korean data comes to us, and if we see it fit it gets sent out under the mention of an anonymous tip, or filtered through some politicians.
Japan is the problem child in our great big family. The ninja there have yet to gather ANY useful information from the Japanese government. This is mostly due to them refusing to wear plainclothes and instead dressing in the stereotypical ninja wear that you'd see in movies. Black mask, black clothes, sword on hip, etc.
The Russian division is insisting we move in soon to take over, because currently Japan is our wildcard.
We move at daybreak. | 2022-08-20T02:51:59 | 2017-11-16T08:29:58 | 509 | 41 |
[WP] Officially, you're a weak, D rank villain. Unofficially, you're one of the strongest beings on the planet that is secretly employed to "train" fledgling heroes by giving them an easy first real fight. But one day an A rank villain crashes your heist and you must protect your "students". | Arthur laughed his bloody head off when he saw me in the costume for the first time.
"You look like a goth wedding cake" he said, between bouts of laughter "Teaching really is your passion after all".
I used his shadow to pull down his pants, but the bastard just kept laughing.
"Stop that before you start an out of season tornado" as if on cue, I heard the wind on the closed door whistle. The Conduit of the Storm, one of the most destructive single entities in the world, was shitting himself laughing at me.
Of course, I am wearing a Marie Antoinette costume dyed black. I even did that to the wig. And I'm already a vampire, so I just need to drop a few glamours and voila, D tier villainess look on the bag.
"But seriously" Arthur says, straightening up "whoever thought that up is a mad genius. At least they won't end up like us and almost die on their first assignment."
"Yes, that is precisely why I am doing this. They are really not ready for risks yet. Hak told me this bunch is still particularly jumpy. Two mortals. An elf. And a pair of halfling twins. They haven't even gotten into a conclave yet."
As I fastened the last bracelet on my arm, an ugly green little imp perched on our window and screamed a clear "NOW".
"Break a leg, Night Queen." Arthur said, smiling.
I shot him my second most intimidating smile, and melted into the shadow behind him.
...
So far so good.
Heist underway, henchmen captured (gotta remember to tell Hak that the halflings are handy with growth and life, nasty combination for a team) my eeeeevil plan is almost foiled.
As the little elf concentrates for a tracking charm, backed by one of the humans, shining a rather intimidating looking contraption with a big flashlight across the pitch black room, I have to say I am impressed by the runework that their other friend had apparently inscribed into the axe she was using to break some of my bindings on the cart we were using to clear this bank.
Gotta say, disappointed that the bank wasn't stocked full of rucksacks of money with a dollar sign on them. Stealing fancy containers is not very visually stimulating.
Said friend was currently knocked out back on her comfy bed in the Academy. Her magic was good, but she was a clumsy combatant. She's lucky it's me fighting them and not some grade A lunatic.
You know what? Let's end this with a bang.
As the elf's wee tracking spell inevitably fails to find the Conduit of Darkness, since she's all around her, the Night Queen, schlocky saturday morning cartoon villain emerges from the shadows on the other side of the room, red eyes glowing with malice as the flashlight on her companions... light machine chainsaw?
Yeah, that's definitely a chainsaw strapped to something that fires a lot of bullets a lot of fast.
I _like_ this kid.
"Mortal fools! You know NOT with what you meddle! Bow before your queen and we shall be merciful!" I say in my best "imperous vampire noble" voice. Thanks da.
The little elf girl stood up rather fast and immediately I saw the blue lines of magic jumping from her, forming a shield around her and her partner, who had taken a step forward and was pointing that awesome gun at me.
"Su-surrender now, perpetrator, we are authorized to use as much force as necessary to..." the gun kid stammered, before being interrupted by his friend:
"To restrain your little historical reenactment" dryly said the elf. "Seriously, I saw that dress on an ad the other day. Didn't know they sold it in mall goth color. Come with us quietly and I'll burn it for you."
Can I keep them?
I laugh my best noblewoman spiteful guffaw (thanks gran) and immediately lift a little tendril of darkness form their side and probe their shield.
Gunlad unloads a quick salvo and ruins it, but I get enough of a feel to notice a rather well made shield marred by the reduced potency of a newish practitioner. This girl had future.
"Tremble before my might, mortals!" As I create a few more tendrils, I hear the small steps of the halflings tapping towards us on the hallway outside.
"We're here guys!"
I could see the relief on gunlad's face as he released a hail of very nicely aimed shots at the little tentacles, dissipating them fast and not letting them destroy the shield. The halflings immediately see me and, with very fast movement, manage to entangle my legs with vines. Same technique they used on my "henchmen". It's a good spell, if a bit less refined than elf girl's shield or sleeping beauty's runes. I can't move oh noooo (except yeah I could shift all of them to any dark place in the world with a thought but I'm not Vi the conduit I AM THE NIGHT QUEEN).
"Curses! How dare you reprobates sully our royal body? You shall be flayed for this! I will wear your mmmm" damned vines.
"Yeah yeah lady." The elf girl is already on me. She's good. I felt her probe me for magic (conduits don't show it like normal practitioners, she wouldn't feel anything if I was in the middle of realocating the entire city to another dimension) and determine that whatever I had was spent. "She's done. Let's go back to the Academy. Any of you seen Hilda?"
While the four of them debated where they had seen her last however, I felt an uneasiness suddenly poke to the surface. The feeling you get when you know you've forgotten something right after you passed a point of no return. The atmosphere of the room changed. They felt it too, a certain rankness of thought that I wasn't sure they knew what meant.
"We should leave" said one of the halflings. Gunlad whimpered. Elf girl nodded.
I was, rather uncerimoniosly, slung across Gunlad's shoulder, and before they had even left the room I saw it.
Now, there's not many things that can challenge an aspect. On the grand scheme of things, a red shade is not a threat to me alone. The red, porcelain mask of a smiling face with wide open eyes and the black shroud coming out of it are a frightening sight at the best of times, but my soul is a bit too spicy for one of them, and they tended to steer clear.
The souls of my little protégés, however, were probably a tasty, irresistible snack.
Now, how did that shade materialise here and now, I had no clue. These were made of the screams of a murdered person by a skilled and depraved Death caster. None of them was that, and I didn't detect any murders in the area. I'm a vampire, I can tell.
Thankfully, I felt the shield coming up instantaneously around us. I also felt the shock of a rather large number of high caliber projectiles be ejected by that marvelous fucking gun.
None of those would scratch the shade, but it did distract Gunlad enough for me to touch the dark patch behind him. I immediately melted into it, causing a startle on the kids.
I probed the shade myself, with enough power to scare even a dragon away.
It was old, days old, and had apparently been locked into one of the mirrors in the locker rooms. A trap then, for a worker here. Will have to investigate the employees later.
Someone must have broken the mirror. It was very very hungry. The psychological pressure was astounding now, I could feel elf girl faltering.
The halflings were frozen up. Their people was not very good with spirits. Gunlad had noticed that his gun wasn't much good and had switched to a small rod that had the same runework his friend had on her axe, blasting the shade with purple fire.
If I wasn't here, this would have been a disaster.
But I was.
Thankfully, I was.
As my little students watched, the Night Queen emerged from a shadow right unde the shade. I had the unpleasant feeling of looking into those still eyes, and as it attempted to feed, the Conduit latched to my soul overloaded it with pure Dark magic. The shroud burned away, as the mask fell on the ground, shattered.
"Lesson learned loves" I said returning to my normal voice.
"Let's get you home".
A protest started, from Gunlad, who was openly crying. We melted into the ground and appeared again on the Academy's courtyard.
...
Sorry for the lame ending but it's really late and I'm sleepy.
First one I've gotten the will to write in... Fuck, two years? I'll take that as a sign that my apathy is abating.
/r/talesfromthales for more of my schlock and some explanations. | "Hello, class, I'm Juleel, also known as The Deceiver, an Ex-A-Ranker Villain..." he spoke whilst pacing back forth near the blackboard attached to the wall, writing on it with swift strokes from his chalk with each step he made, "but, do not fret, I've reformed from my devious lifestyle, now, I would like to teach the next generation of heroes how to fight against evil by revealing 'our methods and our motives,' any questions?"
"You're a reformed villain?" A boy called out with a name tag on his forehead, reading out 'Fledge,' raising his hand from the back of the lecture hall with confusion strewn about his befuzzled face.
"Yes..."
"And you're name is The Deceiver?..." he continued, narrowing his eyebrows and squinting his eyes dubiously as he looked Juleel up and down.
"... Alright, I can see why you would be skeptical of me..."
"That full latex suit with blood on your boots isn't helping your case either... --"
"Any other questions?!" Juleel shouted dismissively as he stared daggers in the boy's direction, seemingly causing him to faint back into his seat. A loud thud resonates from the room as the boy hit his head on the metal table in front of him, sending the room into a panic.
"What was that?!" A girl called out, pointing toward the fainted boy with shock painting her disgruntled face, eyeing down Juleel as it snarkily lifted his ovular glasses onto his face, correcting the crooked glasses as he walked toward his desk, sitting down casually as the once stagnant room inflamed.
Juleel kicks his feet on the desk, revealing his bloodied black latex boots, smearing them across the light-brown laminated oak desk. "Hmm... maybe theirs a villain in our midst..." he spoke skeptically, grinning meekly before picking up a book and plastering over his face, blocking the students from viewing him as a burst of slow deep laughter resonated from an unknown source.
"So many fresh pludglings to swallow..." a voice spoke out gruffly, nearly indiscernible as it coughed hoarsely from its excessive laughter. A pile of light-green goop shoots out of a drain in the room, spitting out droplets of itself across the room, landing on each and every student.
"-- That voice!"
"Recognize me?..." the voice spoke as another slop of goo forced itself through the drain through its narrow gaps, slicing itself slowly before launching out of it, breaking the lid of the drain, sending it flying toward the boy who'd fallen asleep earlier, hitting him on his again, "I'm almost flattered... to think you'd know about a villain of my ranking..."
"D-rank villain known for his abundant power in hand-to-hand combat, The Gobbler..." the boy who'd been hit on the head twice spoke groggily as he awoke before falling asleep once again, hitting his head on the desk for the third time.
"Thanks for the introduction... It'd appear I came to the right place, albeit a little late..." The Gobbler spoke, lingering in between his words as the viscous goo on the ground began to manifest into the shape of a human, bubbling viciously as it built itself upward.
"Teacher! Do something!" A girl cried out as her skin began to turn green. She began to foam at the mouth before falling to the ground, falling sick to the goo that touched her previously, causing her to faint. Other students began to follow suit, foaming at the mouth before fainting onto the ground. The boy who'd hit his head three times awakens once again before fainting, hitting his head on the edge of the desk, flipping the sewer lid that'd sat there, causing it to flip over, hitting on the head once more.
"Ow..."
Juleel puts down his book hastily before lifting it back up even faster, hoping that The Gobbler hadn't seen his face.
"Juleel? What are you doing here?"
"I-I'm not Juleel, I-I'm... Javid..."
"Oh, sorry, you looked familiar... by the way, what are you doing at my desk?
"T-t-t-t-t-t-this is your d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d," Juleel attempted to speak as his endless stuttering failed to make sense.
"Well, I'm sure it was an honest mistake. Are you new to the school as well?"
"Y-yes..."
"... Wait a second..." The Gobbler spoke dubiously as he scrutinized Juleel, "what's on your boots?"
"Strawberry jam..."
"Oh, can I have some!?" The Gobbler spoke curiously as he carried himself across the room, licking his lips before coming into contact with Juleel.
Juleel awaits for him to close in, kicking him right as The Gobbler began to lick on his shoe. The Gobbler catches Juleel's foot in his mouth, licking it clean within seconds as Juleel attempting to remove himself from The Gobbler's death grip.
"This isn't strawberry jam..." The Gobbler spoke as he licked the already clean boot once more, "this is nail polish!"
"How'd you know what that tastes like?!"
"Thats besides the point! You aren't a teacher! Nail polish was prohibited from usage twelve years ago during the nail polish eating incident that took place that sent fourteen children to the hospital, one of whom was named James!"
"What!?"
"It's you, isn't it? Juleel!?"
"No..."
"Oh, sorry, I must've been mistaken..." The Gobbler spoke, rubbing his head out of embarrassment as Juleel steadily positioned the book around his face that he wouldn't be seen, "anyways, I hope to see you around campus. I'll be needing my desk back now if you don't mind..." The Gobbler spoke awkwardly as he stood at the foot of his desk, releasing Juleel's foot from his gaping mouth with goo littering every inch of it.
"Nice to meet you too..." he spoke cautiously as he removed his feet from the desk, "I'll be going now then..."
"Juleel the deceiver... planning to corrupt the classroom... kill those who don't obey him... thwarted by hero..." the boy with five bumps on his head whispered weakly as he slept on the ground of the classroom with a sewer lid on his head acting as a hat as Juleel ran out of the class speedily.
The Gobbler looks to the ground, noticing the book Juleel dropped before running off.
"How to hide your face for dummies," it read as The Gobbler picked up the book, running toward the direction Juleel had sped off in, catching up to him immediately with book in hand.
"You can keep it!" Juleel shouted as he upped his speed, bursting through a wall as The Gobbler ceased his running before turning back to his classroom.
"What a weird guy..."
He walked back to his classroom slowly, finding the students awake, sitting readily at their tables.
"Hello, class! I'm Fledge, also known as The Gobbler, an Ex-D-Ranker Vilain--," Fledge spoke, writing his name on the board as he held the book left to him over his face with a third hand formed from goo. As he did so, the bell rang, students left the room uniformly, leaving only him and the last sleeping student alone. He awakes, tears leaking from his eyes, not knowing if it was from the pain of getting hit on the head five times, or if it was from a terrible nightmare.
"I'll remember you this time..." he spoke groggily before falling asleep once more before a green glop of goo attached to the ceiling dribbled onto his face.
"I hope not... sometimes it's better to abandon dreams rather than forcing them into reality... Fledge..." | 2021-06-23T17:55:09 | 2021-06-23T11:55:31 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | There was enough time. There always was enough time for me. As the last born in the line, expectations were high. The punishment for the times that I faltered, the lashes that came when I just wasn't good enough... 'Be a good son.' 'Why are you so weak?' 'Work harder! Your brothers are strong and able.'
The work was heavy. Father had never been kind with his criticism. My oldest sister had gotten a loom. She was a fine weaver, able to spin silver and golden thread into the dresses she made for the local noblewomen. My older brother had received a sword with the markings of a low noble, in order to learn how to be a knight. I heard he had finally found himself a spouse within one of the landed noblemen's court, a fine third or fifth daughter. Not close to the line, but close enough for a small plot of land, once the limbs grew too infirm.
They visited, sure. Mother turned surly whenever they did, knowing that at eighteen, there would be another one chosen. Father never let me stop working. "A good tilled soil is the firmament. You'll probably never amount to much." The words were thrown at me, knowing that my sister never had to work the fields, because she had been pretty. My brother had never been the one who allowed the time for fieldwork whilst he had been flaunting his muscles to the local girls. Whenever he was caught, he could smile, flex those muscles and have the awed farmgirls just sweet-talk their father out of a thrashing.
My eighteenth birthday came... and went. There was no magical thing that popped up, nor was there a person that suddenly took it. Father got mad. There were more lashes. It wasn't that bad to make me unable to work. Whatever the gods had given to me, it hadn't arrived... Or perhaps it had.
I looked at my hand and felt dissatisfaction. The mark on my flesh had started to bleed. It was supposed to land in the right hand, whatever it was.
A knocking on the door and father went to get it. Mother continued to wait patiently for whatever guest came around. It probably would be the neighbour's daughter again. She'd been making eyes at me.
"May I come in?" The voice was a womanly one, resonant and with the timbre of age. Father stepped back, opening the door. It was permission for her, yet unspoken.
"Please... do?" The man said, ruby red lips parting with a light smile. The woman's eyes were a dull blue colour, faded like the paint on the wall of the local cleric's home.
"It took me a little longer to... properly attend to you. Daytime outings are, sadly, no longer within my ability." My gaze looked over the woman, whose fingers held a ring, and another glistened in her other hand. Father looked a little disturbed, though he was seemingly happy. "You must be my intended... Good, good."
Mother shook from her daze. She got up, looking at the beautiful woman who had come for me... who had strode out from the darkness and into our little home. "Would you... Would you like to drink something? I am sure that we might have some wine left..."
A smile. Lips that were like glistening rubies and eyes that were as pale as the sky during the morning light, glimmered. "I don't drink... Wine." The woman said, her eyes locked with mine for an instant, as she drew closer. "Now... Do give me your hand, sweet one..."
I gave my right. The mark still had scabbed, the woman's pale fingers touching it lightly, looking at the palm. She brought it up, a golden ring fitted around my ring finger. "Good..."
Her tongue wriggled out, drawn over the wound. A sting, a stab of pain and more red blood welling up, her tongue sliding over the wound slowly, licking up the coppery lifeblood, the redness staining those lips. "My... It will be an endearing time, sweetling..."
Mother and Father had gone pale. Deathly so, as they looked at my intended, the woman who had come for me. "Oh?" I asked, as she smiled. Her name I did not know yet, yet she knew mine neither. She was a beauty.
"Eternity is such a while, sweetling... But we'll weather it together." The woman confidently smiled, showing her lengthy canine teeth. Fangs, rather than teeth.
"Vampyr!" Father shouted, yet the woman merely regarded him with a cool glance, dismissive of the man.
"Yes? What could some jumpy farmer of you know of the sweetest of nectars, one who has never tasted the vintage of life..." Her hand pulled me up, to my feet. "I do bore of you, though... Sweetling, do you wish them gone? Their bodies strung up by their innards, their faces set within the horror of their situation?"
"I'd like to visit them sometimes... They're still Ma and Pa." I couldn't condemn them to death, as my intended merely smiled.
"I will show him to my castle... Do live well, father, mother... I would be... *displeased* if you were to get another riotous mob at my front gates... The last rabble had to be culled and bled for five months... Such a tiresome ordeal. The sisters were hungry for *months*."
Outside, a coach that was as black as the wood's depths stood, a coachman looking down at me with an odd look. "Do make yourself comfortable, my intended... I will ensure that you will be treated as the man who is the spouse of Lady Schwarzwald."
Oh. It seems my item has been the marriage to a vampire. That was much better than a loom or a sword or something lame like a sponge. | *"There are two types of people in this world - the living and the dead. Those who have found their purpose and received their divine gift are those who we count among the living. So weep not for those who passed young, for they were already among the dead."*
Angry. That was the only way I have felt my entire life from the day my younger brother died. Initially, it was a shocking moment for the entire community as with the advancement we have had in the past century early deaths were rare. The whole world seemed to grieve that moment as it was akin to losing limitless potential. Had it only stayed that way. Had things never would have changed.
Yet that's just the way life has always been. A tumultuous mess filled with the cruelty of those who sought power over others. And taking control over others was a lot easier than most thought it to be. After all, it only took 48 words for James to rewrite peoples beliefs.
It didn't mean much to me at the time but that was because I didn't truly understand the implications of those words. As time pressed on his grip over us all became firmer and the next generation became a thing of the past. No longer did adults confer with children, for it was now seen as a taboo. After all, nowhere in history did the living ever talk to the dead.
I didn't blame James for this, he was just a man who fervently believed in his ideals. I blamed the selfishness of those who listened to him. James was merely a fanatic who truly believed that focusing on those who had direction would be the most efficient way to get through life.
It made sense at the simplest level but he forgot to factor that those who are now untrained would soon join the ranks of the living. When the dead are left to wander it is only the living that suffers, yet no matter how much I propagated this message no one would listen to me. For talking to the dead was taboo.
Soon, however, I would have a chance to change all of this. Soon, I would be able to change the sins of my forefathers. For today was the morn of my 18th birthday and I now waited patiently in front of the 'gates of birth'. Once I crossed the threshold I would be able to call to the world and it would answer. And once the world answered me, so to would they have to.
I would be the bridge that tethers the living to the dead. I would remind them that their ideologies were flawed and those who had no direction were still very much alive.
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted as the gates slowly creaked open and James stood in his elegant gown with his arms outstretched welcoming me forward. I remembered the way this would always play out - the gates would open and James would pull the newest member of the living to the side and talk with them for some time. After conversing he would send them forward to the central pedestal to call upon the world to answer their cries.
Without missing a beat I walked straight past James to the room to the side he would always take the dead to. I didn't need to put up with their rituals, I just wanted to get this done as soon as possible.
"What do you want Ja-"
James, who always stood so proudly in front of the people was collapsed on the floor with tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had never meant for them to take those words that way. I just wanted-"
I remembered clearly now. Every time James would take to the stage their would always be faded tears on his face. There was always a cruel look of regret hugging close to him. I don't know what he was trying to accomplish with those words, but it was his fault for forgetting that words have power. That you could never take back actions. That he never actually tried to right his wrongs.
*So I'm sorry to James. For I cannot forgive you for all you have done. You have had all the time in the world to change what you could've done, but that time is past. Regret for the rest of your life what you have put in motion.*
And so I pushed past James leaving him shocked on the floor, but somewhere in that shock, I felt as though I could see a hint of acceptance. Maybe even longing. I didn't care now, for it was finally my time.
There was a rage barely lying beneath the core of my being that I had to force myself to ignore. I didn't care about the people around me. All I cared about was what I could do going forward.
And so, I called to the world.
There was a brief pause as everyone held their breath. Normally when people made the call they were answered instantly. But it was as if the world understood my request and knew what must be done. And what must be done took time.
When that time finally came people looked at me with horror but all I could answer them with was a bittersweet smile.
For as I called to the world, certainly did it answer. | 2019-09-18T10:11:45 | 2019-09-18T07:55:38 | 51 | 37 |
[WP] In this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward. | I have the easiest job you can imagine. I get paid monthly for a hundred years, so I never have to think about saving money. All I had to do was push a button once. Oh, and if I quit I'm as good as dead. But I guess that's still better than the average employment contract.
This left me with a lot of spare time, some of which I spent looking for my soul mate. It is customary for searchers to prod each other with needles, as legend has it that soul mates are not able to harm each other. At the time I found it a bit silly, but it served as a good ice breaker.
I never actually met my employer. One day some masked gentlemen visited me to inform me that I was now part of a deal. They left me with a cardboard box containing a bottle about two meters tall and one meter wide and a stack of papers.
The bottle was to be deposited in my basement and attached to some kind of pump for which there was a very detailed shopping list with stores and aisle numbers for every part. I purchased each part on a different day. After assembling the contraption and letting it run for a few weeks I shut down the pump. Now I just had to wait until it was time to press the ignition.
In the first year or so I kept wondering why they chose me. Surely there was no lack of people able to follow simple instructions. What bothered me is that they could have chosen someone who never would have figured out what the bottle was for.
The problem with ICBMs is that they can be intercepted and, more importantly, it is easy to see where they were fired from. But they are a very nice topic to discuss with leaders of other countries. Especially if your country has more.
The explosives I had placed in the bottle would elevate pressure and temperature enough to fuse hydrogen. I had built an atomic bomb without moving radioactive material across borders. It was just too perfect. Whatever evidence there was would be wiped out by a tiny sun going nova. Along with me.
I decided to skip that part. When the day came, I was already on a flight to a holiday destination I had booked in advance. On arrival I saw my work unfold on television. It was beautiful.
The bottom of the screen read: "Nuclear disaster in Italy. Satellite image shows woman sleeping on molten rock."
My triumph faded. What was I supposed to say to her? "Sorry that I melted your family"? Actually, never mind that. Where would I hide from her? | “Wait,” Bob thought, “am I gay?” Looking back down the scope, the shirt clearly had a hole burned in it, directly above the aorta - the shot had been good, but had just bounced off. The target was alive so Mr. Bloome was going to be pissed. Shit, he’d found his soulmate – his wife was going to be pissed. The man in his crosshairs looked pissed too, but then again he had just been shot, so Bob felt that was probably fair. Even so, Bob felt happy as he put down the rifle, dusted the dirt off his khakis, and with trepidation, trundled out of the bush, ready to go and meet his true love. As he approached, he noted that his love was seriously ripped, and with the steeliest blue eyes. Maybe he could make this work.
“Hi,” Bob opened with, “I’m Bob”. There was an awkward silence as the man just stared at the red-faced assassin. “Umm, I’m the one who shot you.” Bob ventured after a pause, worrying that the moment was getting away from them.
“I saw” Said the target, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly,
“… Sorry I suppose, Mr. Kent” said Bob. The man just sighed,
“You can call me Clarke. And don’t worry, it happens all the time”
| 2018-04-24T04:59:38 | 2018-04-24T04:13:28 | 82 | 56 |
[WP] Humanity was never supposed to find that cursed substance. The substance that killed over half of the galaxy at one point, yet everyone drinks coffee every day, multiple times a day! | “Bob! Why are you drinking that!”
“Hm?” Bob looked up from his report, a mug big enough to fit a softball in one hand as he read. “This? You want some.”
Hankel backed away at the proffered cup. “Drai no! That’s poison! Why are you drinking it!?”
“It’s coffee.”
The alien hissed and looked to the branch’s command officer, Ken. He stood there staring the human down. “Was that why you ordered the... forgive me my Earth English isn’t so good, Confree maker, for? To poison your co-workers?”
“Coffee maker.” Bob corrected. “No. It’s just a beverage. Nothing harmful about it. Also, why would I poison you guys?”
“You made coffee.”
“Is it lethal to you guys?”
“Er... yes.”
“Give me a minute, I can print a warning sign and put it over the coffee maker.” Bob switched tabs and tapped something on the screen. “So what is it about coffee that makes it toxic?”
“The caffeine. It is a rather nasty kind that damages parts of our brains patterns-“
“Because you guys constantly have a developing brain.” Bob finished, familiar with their biology. Their species did have an ever evolving brain. “I get it. Our youngsters aren’t suppose to have caffeine because it can impede their growth. My mother was a brain scientist or something, she always liked sharing these tidbits with us.”
He opened a drawer and fished out a bottle and downed two pills with his coffee.
“What was that?” Hankel asked. “Is that a cure for the toxin?”
“No,” Bob went back to typing. “Those were caffeine pills.”
“... What?!” Ken screeched.
“Caffeine pills. It’s just more caffeine.”
“But you were just drinking coffee!”
“Yeah, I have coffee, then to wake up I take two pills.” Bob shrugged.
“I’m getting a headache.” Ken said, rubbing his for-head equivalence.
Henkel gawked. “You take caffeine to stay awake? Is it because your body has to fight it? Why do you take it then.”
“It just blocks adenosine receptors.” Bob looked up at the two panicking life forms. “If you think this is bad you should look at the other stuff we consume.” | Poison. Toxin. A blight on the galaxy. Thousands of names have evolved over the galaxy over the controversial coffee bean, but none as disgusting as the one found on Earth.
Joe. They call it a cup of Joe! Besides an endearing, human name, coffee has infiltrated every part of life culture on that human planet. Not only does humanity not realise the danger they are in, they treat it like some sort of sacred substance, essential for their well-being and day-to-day life.
But no longer. No longer will I sit idly by, and watch wretched coffee continue to wreak havoc on the system. It took my family. It took my world. Then, I escaped the burning wreckage of my home planet, along with the seeds of that destructive plant. It survived the vacuum of space, and continued to decimate anything it touches.
It should have gone up in flames, just like my entire life, but its resilience proved too much. Now, it's my life's mission to eradicate the parasitic drug from every world I encounter, less Earth and its creatures find themselves drained entirely dry in coffee's wanton path of ruination.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2020-06-20T12:33:37 | 2020-06-20T09:00:12 | 274 | 80 |
[WP] Humans are the only species in the universe with pets. As humanity enters the ranks of the Galactic Empire humanity soon is known as "The Beastmasters", taming even the worst nightmares of alien bedtime stories. | Alujin of the Baonjooli Gramia, trekked along the great dunes of the Kalian desert, a long way from his grassy home on the shimmering Baonjool river. The ocean of sand, red as the poisonous Rem valley orchids, finally, after another full day's travel, turned to high pillars of stone. Past these rocks, laid his destination: The home of the Beastmaster. Alujin had heard tales of the Beastmasters as a larva, this ancient, rare race of creature tamers from a far off star. This Beastmaster, the Beastmaster of the Yellow Sands, was said to be the only one in the entire spiral arm.
Not that that meant much to Alujin. His three hoof-like feet had never left the soil of the world, and tales of the stars were only the legends of the Hueyen culture of the Gramia, of which his grandpatron was a part of. Ze had filled his head with stories of aliens and starships. He never really expected to meet an alien - let alone be tasked with this great quest.
He passed the rocky cliffs, and, almost instantly, was struck by the somber and sudden shift of stone to the flatness of the Yellow sands. The two amber suns began setting over the flat horizon, tinging the orangish sky with purple.
Alujin stepped tenderly, hesitantly, onto the sand, as if he expected it to give way underneath him, as if an illusion. But, his foot felt hard packed sand. He made another few steps out onto the plateau. He looked around, and saw, in the distance, a white tent, a thin spiral of grey smoke billowing from the top. Was that it? His destination?
Before he could shimmer with joy, he heard a growl from behind him. His head swiveled around. There, upon a pillar was a creature of purple armor platings, and a tangled mass of yellow tentacles. It was at least the size of four Gramia adults. It created a strange, crying, whining noise, like a larvae in pain, but with the emotion of vengeful attacker. IT suddenly leapt into the air, towards Alujin. It's narrow head opened its mouth, revealing an array of silver, bladelike teeth, and two thin rasping tongues, spinning them around like a marateni spinner. Alujin howled in terror, before he heard a gruff voice -
"Heel."
The Creature stopped in its tracks, skidding to a halt, a puff of yellow sand clouding up behind it. Alujins eyes were sealed shut. He opened just one, the smallest one, to peek at the creature. It had stopped, peering at him with 8 geometric eyes.
"Benny means you no harm," said the gruff voice. Alujin teedered around.
There they stood. The Beastmaster. Taller, than he expected, Alujin didn't even come up to their neck. They had two arms, like Alujin, except higher up, of course, and stood on only two legs, covered in a dense blue material. It wore a cloak around itself, its hood covered the top of its head, something Alujin could not do, given his ear stocks. It's mouth was covered in a tangle of... well, he wasn't sure what it was. Grass?
"H..hello," Alujin said, and was met by silence. "You are the Beastmaster, yes?" The Beastmaster did something with iits head, shaking it up and down, before it corrected itself.
"Yes," they said, stepping past Alujin to touch.... Benny, on the head. It seemed to... like it.
"I've been sent by my Grandpatron, elder Uri of the Baonjool. We have... a beast problem," Alujin said nervously. his vivid memory started to pour into him, the memory of that horrid creature, the way it moved, attacked...
"Mmh."
"It's horrible... It has blades for fingers... and everywhere it goes it spreads this horrid... Pollen! It makes the villagers swell with pus! It moves with total silence!"
"And this beast... What is it called?" The Beast master pulled out piece of meat, that the creature gobbled up.
"It's..." He clenched his eyes, and darkened in terror.
"Out with it, lad."
"They call it... a Cat." | Larry's greatest ambition was to become senior insurance salesman and retire comfortably. Now he was Beastmaster Larry of the Vermont Kingdom. He traveled from planet to planet showing off his menagerie.
The ship was an impressive one. FTL, voice control, cabin, and capable of atmospheric landing. He traded a rare American land octopus for the ship. It had conveniently made a web in his laundry room.
This planet was like all the rest. No space port, no shipyards of their own, and no other humans. The civilization, if you could call it that, were pre industrial, but aware of other alien species. This was how Larry liked them, not too savage, and not too advanced. The perfect rubes.
The Fershonameens were a dull species. Humanoid, short, no hair, and three fingers on each hand. What they lacked in technology, they made up for in mineral deposits.
Larry had begun his speech and hoped to be back in orbit soon.
"This is the Squirrel King of the Parklands. Don't be deceived by his size, he could destroy your whole village!"
The crowd made a gurgling sound and the bigger drew in the small ones.
*He's also dumb and a sucker for peanut butter.*
"This is Song Spirit. It is light years away from its mate, but it will sing until reunited with its lost love."
*Or you don't feed it. I learned that the hard way, but you can buy a ton of feeder crickets for cheap at the pet store.*
"Now the jewel of my collection. The Gem Seeker Bettles. Released them into your mines and they are drawn to precious gems. They allowed me to buy my ship!"
The "Beetles" were plentiful enough in his apartment. Larry had a habit of leaving food out. Roaches were apparently not galactic travelers. The "gems" were plastic fakes from the craft store.
The Fershonameens gathered in close with eye spots wide. They spoke among themselves quietly.
"How. Can. We. Acquire. Them?" came the translator.
"They are the last of their species. Their moon was destroyed by....space....forces. I could settle for a ton of platinum delivered to my ship."
They continued to chatter.
"We. Accept." came the translator mechanically.
*Another deal well struck.*
Larry was securing his cargo and accepting other small favors from the locals. A rumbling came from the sky. Another ship landed in the clearing.
*Oh no, who could this be. Traders? Pirates? Space rapists sometimes call sprapists?*
The ship had no weapons. The Fershonameens cautiously approached the ship. The cargo hatch opened.
"I am Becky the Beastmaster of the Arkansas Kingdom! Behold my fantastic beasts while I tell you where to find them."
Becky had a possum on a leach and several specimen jars on her "scepter." The locals turned their angry eye spots on Larry.
*OOOOOOOOOOOhhhhh SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIttt. Time to get the fuck out.*
He slammed the cargo door shut.
"Ship, get us into orbit immediately and prep the FTL."
"Destination?" came a calm female voice.
"Luna colony, time to regroup."
"By your command Beastmaster Larry."
*This Becky of Arkansas was going to be a problem. One that needed to be dealt with quickly.* | 2020-01-04T17:07:40 | 2020-01-04T15:42:21 | 225 | 100 |
[WP] Today on your 18th birthday you’re informed that your Middle Class life is a sham to teach you good values and your family is actually worth billions. | "So all this time... I've been wearing Walmart brand shoes, eating bagged cereal, and *not* using an iPhone because you wanted to teach me how to appreciate, like, work, and stuff?" I asked.
"Son, it's easy to develop a sense of entitlement when you have access to so much." My dad said. "It takes a lot of work to remain humble."
"I get it, dad. Just promise me I don't have to breathe the same air as those dirty peons anymore." I begged.
"Excuse me?" My dad asked with an angry tone.
"Relax, dad, it was a joke. As long as I'm not a savage, I can handle being around them for a while." I laughed.
"That's not funny, son." My dad sulked.
"Neither is being made fun of in public school." I joked.
"This sense of humor of yours is disturbing." My dad said.
"Know what else is disturb--"
"Stop it, Danny!"
I was quiet for a minute, but then I started laughing.
"What is it?"
"You and mom acted poor for eighteen years just to instill some shoddy value system in me. You could have been going to the Bahamas five times a year!" I laughed harder. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
My dad exhaled sharply.
"Dad, I'm joking. Let's go get hookers." | A meager and boring life I live
Because my parents told me a fib
Now the middle finger to my teachers I give
As I buy the sweetest gaming rig
Hello ladies who for me they did disdain
Who now want to be my dame
To watch me age and wither without pain
As my rich ass snorts all this cocaine | 2017-12-28T10:15:06 | 2017-12-28T08:42:09 | 154 | 94 |
[WP] You wake up in a room with someone else, no doors, just a a paper taped on the wall that says "One of you is the A.I." | "Good morning, sweetheart," said a deep, loving voice.
I sat up bolt-upright. Then I grabbed the sheet, and yanked it up to cover myself. I sleep naked but I also sleep alone. A smiling, blond, and very naked man was in the bed next to me. In a panic, I looked around the room. It wasn't my bedroom. I had no idea where I was. I'd never gotten blackout drunk, and I hadn't been drinking lately. I had no explanation for this. I looked in every direction, and panicked more when I noticed that there were no doors or windows. Eventually, desperate to check everywhere, I looked at the wall behind the bed. Above it, just above the wooden headboard, was a piece of paper. It was taped to the wall.
"Shit," I said unimaginatively, as I read the note, "Shit, shitty, shit-shit."
"What's the matter?"
"I know it's me, that's what!" I shook my head sadly, "Fuck! You know, I always wondered. The simulation argument made sense to me, and I always questioned my reality. Then, what, I'm going to magically wake up in a bed with an amazingly hot man?"
He threw his head back and burst out laughing.
"You're being ridiculous, honey," He saw my worried, disbelieving face, and lovingly brushed a strand of loose hair over my ear, "I love you, you had a bad dream, and everything is fine."
"Really?" I asked him skeptically, and pointed to the paper taped onto the wall, "Really? Then why is there no door, and what's that paper say?"
He propped himself up onto his elbow, looked at the wall, and then looked around the room.
"It is weird that there are no doors."
"Okay, and the paper?" I was trying to stay calm, because he was, but I felt flustered.
He looked at me, puzzled, "What about it?"
"What do you mean, 'what about it'?"
He looked up at the wall, shrugged, and said calmly, "It doesn't look like anything to me. It's just a piece of paper." | "Does it really matter?" I say. I had read the note as had my forced upon room mate. She looked at me and said "Does what even matter?" I replied "Does it even matter if one of us is not human? Our life would be just as meaningless." "No, I mean actually being an AI would mean that one was created for a purpose. There's definitely would be more meaning to an AI's existence than a biological human,right?" "I guess." said the other woman. "Well what's your purpose in life?" I asked.
The woman sat quiet pondering what I had asked a look of deep concentration on her face. "I guess my purpose is to enjoy life." said the woman. Then she asked me what I thought my purpose was and without missing a beat, I stated "My purpose is to infiltrate, adapt and assimilate."
"And then nothing. I don't remember a single thing between then and now. I went blank and when I woke up I was in the hospital here. I don't know my name or where I came from. " I told the doctor. | 2018-02-22T18:28:32 | 2018-02-22T17:20:32 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] 9 days has passed. /r/thebutton has ended. Reddit is divided into 3 types of users. "Early Pushers", "Late Pushers" and "None Pushers". Then, the true nature of the button is revealed. | After many casualites on both sides, we have come to a grudging peace with the EL and LP. Today, at 8pm Eastern Time, we shall hold our fingers. We shall wait 60 seconds. And we shall relish in the secrets of the button.
Many of our people have died. We were originally allied with the LP, but we could not stand and watch as the first atom bombs were dropped upon the EP. We are redditors. We are euphoric, eternal, the nice guys. Not barbaric. After the first part of the war had ended, the real bloodshed began. Ah, pain beyond pain, my friend. To see your fellow comrades be slaughtered like pigs, their heads pitted on spikes... the majority of men not ripped limb from limb put a bullet in their own head. But today, we shall see that their death was not in vain. It will end tonight.
10 seconds. Not a single breath in a crowd of millions.
9 seconds. The air is thick.
8 seconds. Even the wind is waited with fearful anticipation of what will follow.
7.
6.
5.
4. A single fly buzzes past, unaware of this historic moment.
*3.*
**2.**
***1.***
There was a small click, then a whir of a tape.
***#WE'RE NO STRANGERS TO LOOOOOVE,
YOU KNOW THE RULES, AND SO DO III#***
Damnit. |
It’s really quite simple
We messed with your minds
The button has meaning
You took the test blind
We’re not here to judge
To be hateful or lewd
If you pressed the blue button
You prolly' like dudes
I’ll say it again
Try not to be crass
If your flair is now purple
You like-uh dat… | 2015-04-02T04:11:24 | 2015-04-02T03:12:21 | 15 | 11 |
[WP]Walking into your local drugstore, you jokingly say to the employee "I need to lift a curse cast generations ago, what aisle?" He then looked up and responded with "yeah, you look bad, aisle 5 just down the secret stairway." | Not a single part of me expected to find salvation in a somewhat rundown CVS drugstore on the outskirts of Tulsa, Oklahoma... but I was quite literally out of time.
The truth of the curse that had ended generations of my family prematurely had only been revealed to me when it was already too late. I was decaying, quite literally, by the day. My flesh rotted, my hair fell out by the handful, and chunks of flesh, some seeming quite necessary to live, sloughed off of me as if they were redundant. Open wounds and gushing sores became the norm, but somehow, I was still alive... for now at least.
So far I'd driven halfway across the country, searching out everything from the finest doctors and surgeons to ancient mystics, medicine men, shamans and spirit healers. None could do a damn thing to stop the progression of my 'illness'.
And so, here I am. My last ditch effort as I bleed from every wound on my body and one of my hands becomes nothing but bone and thin tendrils of sinew, is to drag my non-functional left leg through the dual doors of this crappy chain drugstore.
The place was a ghost town, err- poor choice of words... but it was completely deserted, not a single other shopper in sight. Which was to be expected it suppose, it was after all a rundown CVS on the outskirts of Tulsa. The locals surely knew better than to shop at this trash heap, so who would be browsing the aisles here?
Wandering the empty store, I found the nearest bored employee and immediately begged for their help. "Curse!" I shouted, the words becoming gummy and hard to understand as my mouth and vocal chords slowly withered. "Do you sell cures for curses?"
The kid looked annoyed briefly, as if he was going to scold me for pranking him, but as he scanned up and down the aisles and found there were no other customers present, his face and tone shifted. "Of course, sir. What kind of a curse?"
I stared at him, not truly believing or even properly processing his response. "A... a longtime one? One that has doomed generations of my family to-"
"Ahhhh, multi-generational curses. Yes yes, I understand. That'll be in aisle five, just to your right. Push past the unsold Christmas decorations that are still on the shelf in July. Behind them you'll find a secret stairway. Down it, you will find your salvation. Have a lovely day!" With that, he walked off cheerfully.
*WHAT?!* He cannot be serious, but having literally no other options, I dragged myself to aisle five, found the sad decorations, and sure enough, a stairway behind a hidden doorway, leading downward.
I suppose it's more accurate to say I tumbled down the steps like a rolling trashbag full of meat, than to claim I 'walked' down them, but I arrived in a stone chamber lit by red candlelight. Behind the counter stood an old woman wearing a blue CVS vest and a smile on her face.
"Welcome to CVS, sir. How can I help you today?"
"Curse! Multi gener- generational curse... dying... familial curse... help... please!"
"Of course, young man. My goodness, you do look a little worse for the wear! I'll happily sell you something to help you out and get you feeling better right away!"
"Thank you!" I exhaled.
"Now, before I process the transaction. Do you have a CVS rewards card? It can offer you a great deal of savings!"
"What the fu- *DO I HAVE A CVS CARD?* Do you honestly... think *cost* is an issue to someone in *my* condition?"
Her smile remained unchanged. Creepily unchanged, unmoving and unflinching. "Well, the price without discount is $100,000, sir. I figured I should ask."
I stood there in stunned silence. "I uh- Yes! Yes, I have a CVS card is what I meant!" I lied, desperately trying to remember my ex-girlfriends phone number so the old woman behind the counter could look up the account in her store system.
She sighed. "It sounds like cost may indeed be an impediment for you, sir. How unfortunate!"
"Look, I'll give you anything... anything alright?! I'd offer you my left kidney if I wasn't pretty damn sure it's already been liquefied inside the remains of my rotting flesh prison... I mean, 'my body'. There's got to be something! What do you want?"
"$100,000, sir. In cash," she said, her gaze and tone hardening. "Now, if you don't have the money on you, there are several businesses lining the streets nearby that would make perfectly fine targets for a robbery."
My dumbfounded stare was one for the ages. "Are you out of *your* *mind*? I've never broken a law in my life! How do you expect me to know how to rob some store? And what business has a hundred grand just sitting around?! And-" My voice cracked and faltered as I came to the truth of my outburst. I steadied my emotions before continuing. "*And...* I know you can't really help me, no matter what I do, there is no magical potion or elixir that can cure this curse that has haunted and tormented my family for generations upon gener-"
She silenced me with a dismissive chuckle and a wave of her hand. In it, was a small bottle. There was absolutely nothing special about it, it easily could have come out of the cold medicine aisle, but with a dramatic flourish, she poured just a few drops onto my nearly melted right hand. Miraculously, the skin immediately began to regrow, starting from my fingertips, all the way up to my forearm. I instantly felt 20% more energized as well.
Silence filled the room once more as I stared at my fully rejuvenated hand with astonishment. I flexed it and wiggled my fingers until I was absolutely sure it was for real.
"I have exactly two questions for you, ma'am," I said finally. "Do you sell toy guns here? And which way should I turn when I leave the store to find these 'perfectly fine robbery targets' you mentioned?"
___
___
Many more of my stories live over on r/Ryter, I won't claim much, but I promise it *is* nicer than a rundown CVS if you care to head over and read some more. | I laughed good-naturedly but he didn't even give me a smile. He went back down to reading an article on his phone and sighed, bored. I stayed in front of him for a few more seconds until he said,
"Is there anything else I can help you with?" He barely looked up from his phone this time.
"I... Uhh... sorry, you said I looked bad? Did you mean like acne or something?" I said, raising my chin as far as my self-consciousness would allow, which was about half an inch to display my red neck.
"What? No, the curse. It looks like you should at least get it checked out. Aisle five, secret stairwell, you can't miss it," he said, almost sounding like he cared.
"Uhh..." I wrung my hands some more.
"Fine, I'll take you there," he said, turning his phone off in a huff and marching out from behind the counter.
"No, you don't have to--"
But he was already walking down the aisles, not looking to see if I was following, which for some reason made me more inclined to chase after him. I caught up as he was turning into Aisle 5 and walked behind him close enough to whisper,
"What do you mean curse? What kind of--"
"I'm *not* a curse doctor," he said, irritated. He pushed on a price tag that didn't have a label and the space in the shelf collapsed into a clean set of marble stairs leading down into a basement. I stared with wide eyes as he stepped aside and gestured to it, bored. I looked to him, then the stairs, then back to him.
"Is this where I'll... find the curse doctor?" I asked slowly. He put on a condescending smile and bobbed his head, nodding like a teacher to a child.
"And I just go down there to get to the curse doctor?" I asked again, slowly squirming myself away from the staircase. He gave me a pained look.
"I'm sorry, I don't think I actually need this--"
"Get inside already," he said, annoyed. I didn't want to be a bother and walk away after I had already made him do his job, so I quickly began running down the steps. I heard the beginning of a sigh that was cut off when the wall closed itself back up behind me. I yelped and continued downward, afraid of everything around me.
When I made it to the bottom, I saw a room in front of me with a patient's table and a desk that a man sat holding a test tube in front of his thick eyeglasses. He snorted at it and took violent notes, then whipped his head to look at me. I froze in place.
"My God, what a terrible curse," almost the second he laid eyes on me.
"It's bad?" I said both as a question and a declaration with a cracked voice.
"Quickly, quickly, let's get you checked out," he said with such urgency, I couldn't help but follow the order. He patted the patient's table and I sat down on it. He began making long, slow strides around me as he looked me up and down. I began to shrivel up, embarrassed to by everything and nothing.
"No friends, right?" he said, more as a statement of fact than an inquiry.
"Uhh.. right," I swallowed.
"And your jokes. Never landing, right? Worst timing ever, but you try them anyway? You're the only one to enjoy your jokes?"
"You'll never know when I strike gold!" I said, smiling to myself.
"Intriguing, just terrible jokes," he nodded to himself, stepping past me again. I frowned as he continued.
"Well, it looks like the curse has been a part of you your whole life and you just adapted to becoming a part of it. I can get it off with some Antiperdedor if you aren't allergic," he said, going back to the test tubes and pushing a few aside to look at bottles of pills.
"Sorry, I don't understand... what's my curse? Sounds like you're describing my introvertedness."
"Astounding, you even begin your sentences with apologies," he said, holding up a bottle of pills and nodding to himself, bringing it over to me.
"I don't think being a bit socially awkward is a curse?" I said as more a question than a statement.
"Not at all!" he said handing me the pills. "Social awkwardness, introvertedness, totally normal! You're a just loser."
I stared at him nonplussed.
"I'm sorry?" I said, trying not to apologize, but doing it anyway.
"You're a big fat loser. Just a secondary person no one wants to spend their time with. The pills will fix that. One a day for a week and you'll just be all better," he said, gesturing to the exit. I stared at the Antiperdedor pills as I walked to a wall that opened up to the exit of the drugstore.
"This will make me able to make friends and go out and stuff?" I said with hope.
"Oh, no. You'll still be a socially awkward introvert, but at least you won't be a loser anymore," he said as the wall closed behind me.
___________________________________________________________
For more stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! | 2019-12-27T20:42:19 | 2019-12-27T19:56:06 | 96 | 48 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "The international community hereby charges you with War Crimes committed during the defeat of the so-called Islamic State. On your orders, a brutal campaign of destruction, fear and even forced conversions were taken place. Even civilians were not exempt. It says here that several mosques were torn down, often with people still inside them. Forced confessions of 'dealing with demons' gained through torture were obtained. Frankly I could go on for hours Mr. Felipe, but I would rather not. What do you have to say for yourself?"
The man leaned back into his chair. He took a moment to compose his thoughts before rising.
"Your honor, the proper term of address is 'Your Majesty.' I do not accept the change to the constitution. And as to the charges, I did indeed order every one. I simply ordered what needed to be done." This statement elicited a gasp from the members of the press. The man began again quickly, before he could be interrupted.
"You all saw the Islamic State and saw just another terrorist organization. I saw a rebirth of an old enemy. It was if Carthage had risen again from Libya and wished to wage war against Italy. So I had to fight fire with fire so to speak. The methods used were tried and true against just such an enemy in my own country centuries ago. They wished to fight a religious war, so I gave them one."
The crowd was dead silent. Nobody had any idea what to say. But the man on trial just smiled.
"Besides, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition." | "DEUS VULT!"
The battlecry of the newly reborn Papal State rang on the lips of devout Catholics the world over. The faithful had come together once again to rid the Holy Land of the infidel scourge. Pope Francis stood at the head of his army, a not-so-ceremonial sword flashing in his hand as he held it up on the streets of the Holy City.
(In all seriousness, how has nobody invoked the Crusades yet?) | 2016-01-29T10:18:49 | 2016-01-29T10:03:10 | 389 | 82 |
[WP] A man in a suit walking alone at night passes by a homeless man. The homeless man gives him a sorrowful look and offers him some coins, saying "You're going to need this." | Bleary-eyed but grinning, I count up my tips and leave the Greek's. Lucy waves goodbye as I push through the restaurant's door to greet the night.
Feeling a buzz, I hang my apron over my shoulder and pull out my phone. Another of Sheila's texts. This is around number 90 for today. Seems like she's lonely right after getting home, away from the coworkers she says she hates. Sure, maybe they're assholes but we all need someone to keep us company. She never goes anywhere besides work, and her ex has the pimply kid until the weekend, so I'm the "emotional rock" until Saturday. Funny, considering that I'm not the most stable person myself.
I bump into someone when I try to walk around a tree, still oblivious to the world around me.
"Sorry, man."
Decades on the streets fill my nose all at once.
"No worries, son. You need some help there? Trouble with gentler sex?"
He sounds almost sarcastic as he says the last few words, and he waggles his eyebrows knowingly.
No. I don't get to run into the only mind-reading hobo in San Francisco. No one is that lucky. The guy is trying to game me, somehow. A cold read?
"I'm doing just fine. Thanks for the offer."
Polite. Grit your teeth and be polite.
"Brother. Would you mind listening to a man prattle for a second? I know you care about her, but she's no good for you. Knew it from the moment I met you."
What the hell?
"I've never seen you before in my entire life. Who are you?"
A sad smile.
"3 days until she shoots her son and kills you. For love, she'll say, before she ends her own life. Trust me, lad, I was there. Ka is a wheel, they say."
"Are you high?"
"Here, take these, ye damned skeptic."
He slips a few coins in my apron faster than I can react or give them back.
He shuffles off, glancing backward with the strangest look of pity I've ever seen on a man's face. It looks wrong, a twisted mask of pain punctuated with horrible pockmarks. I hope he's all right, the crazy bastard.
On my way home, I pull out the coins. Strange. They're heavier than quarters should be, but they're not dollar coins.
They show Martin Luther King Jr.'s face cast over the words "Free at Last", "50 Dollars", and a year.
2033. | The rain was pouring extra heavily this evening. Each labored step I took created a shockwave in the endless puddle that spanned over the asphalt like a vast sea swallowing a desert. My hands were clutching the resume's that were now dripping wet with black ink smeared across them from the unrelenting pecks of a thousand meteor like rain drops. I had walked down this road many times before, each pass my pile of resumes getting thinner and thinner. Things were getting desperate. I walked to the gym in which I stored my regular clothes while I was out on the prowl for some labor that could lift me out of this pit I seemed to be in at this moment. When I arrived I gave the door a sharp tug. The handle clicked but the door did not budge. Locked. I turned around and ventured back off into the night. Every inch I traveled forward was another inch of dirt above my head. I was caught off guard from a hoarse voice staring at me from the ground. "You're going to need this if you want to get into the subway". The man handed me a few straggled coins. I murmured a "thank you" and entered into the train station. I sat down on the empty platform and looked around to find no one else. I was alone. I stoop up when I heard the train coming and looked into its lights. I jumped onto the tracks. The horn of the train was palpable as the screech of the breaks overpowered my senses. I felt a tug on my chest, then my legs. Soon it was black and I thought to myself, finally I can rest. | 2015-03-13T05:35:42 | 2015-03-13T01:23:52 | 92 | 16 |
[WP] In the upper-left side of your vision you've always had an "objective." {Get the Mail} - {Get ready for work} - {Buy Mom a birthday gift}. It's convenient at best, usually providing direction and reminders. You wake with a start in the middle of the night, and see the objective {Get to safety}. | #GET TO SAFETY
The words flashed like a house fire under my eyelids, burning my dreams to wisps. I bolted upright, breathing hard, looking about wildly. Other than the mumbles and snores of sleeping children, and distant rumbling of an oncoming storm, the night seemed at peace.
Yet, I couldn't dispel the uneasy feeling that had settled over me. Those words that occupied their own little corner of my vision had never exactly been wrong or right. They didn't tell me what would happen, only what I should do. "Pay the milkman" or "scrub the chimney" had saved me from a few lashings, but there was now a marked difference.
They'd usually been a benign green, like the crown of a tree in the birth of summer, rather than a pulsing, angry red.
"Wake up," I said harshly, jumping off the bed and hurrying to the cupboard. Through the window I looked; twinkling stars winked back at me, suspended over a dark countryside of rolling hills and plains, dotted with farmhouses. A pink glow was spreading over the horizon; had dawn come already? I felt as if I'd just gone to bed.
"Up!" I called, tossing an empty knapsack onto the nearest bed. My brother Pete grumbled, rolled over. I reached over and slapped his toes.
"What?" he growled, sitting up. He was a year younger, and everyone loved telling us that we couldn't possibly be brothers. He had long, curly hair that fell all over his forehead; I kept my to a close shave. He was angular; I, round. He loved gardening, while I went on long hikes and chased rabbits. Pete was full of emotion, and life, they liked to say, then add that a statue would cry before I did. Yet there was one similarity nobody could deny: we were both at the bottom our years at school.
"Go wake mother and father," I said.
"Why? Abram, it's the middle of the n--" He was cut off by a yawn.
"Sally! I need you to take the twins. Now!"
My elder sister rubbed her eyes, all so she could glare at me. Three boys had courted her, and all three had been scared off by her temper eventually. I knew she would flay me with her words if given the chance, so I quickly said, "It's an emergency!"
"Is our house on fire or something?" Pete said on his way past. "'Cause the only thing I smell is your crappy joke."
Sally had scooped up Sandra and Sandy; the girls were still asleep. While she carried them out, I finished shoving some spare blankets into a second bag, then hoisted one over each shoulder.
The rest of the family had gathered outside my parents' room, under the stuffed moose head that was father's greatest trophy. He now stood in his pajamas, ringed by his children, looking distinctly irritated.
"Abram ..." he said in a warning tone.
"The words told me to run," I said.
His gaze changed from one of challenge to worry. Mother appeared a moment later, fastening a jacket over her dressing gown, and he wrapped an arm around her as we hurried out of the house. I parceled out blankets and cloaks as we went, trying my best to ignore the flashing warning.
Struck by the cold night air, the twins woke up and began complaining. "What happen?" Sandy cried.
Mother took over Sandra from Sally, shushing her. I led the way down the dirt road, past the barn with all the sleeping animals inside, past the cornfields, past the fish pond. I started to feel silly, even a bit guilty; was I imagining things? What if I'd over-reacted? The words were behaving strangely, after all--I'd never really questioned them, since they were so convenient, but I couldn't control them.
I glanced over my shoulder to check on my family, and that was when I realized the sky seemed to be ablaze. Red and orange fought one another in the distance, broken by columns of smoke. The sight made me falter, and my family stopped as well.
"What's that?" Pete said, pointing.
A black speck seemed to be gliding in the air, in our general direction. It was joined by several others, spread out behind it in a rough triangular formation.
Father grabbed Sandy from Sally's arms, then shoved Pete on the shoulder. "Run!"
We tore down the road, twins screaming, mother praying between breaths. I glanced back, just in time to see that, as the first plane flew over the Ruthers' farm, something plummeted from beneath it.
Then the farm exploded into a fireball.
A scream tore its way from my throat as we hurtled off the road, into our orchard. There, father gathered everyone into a small trench he'd dug last year but not filled, and we hunched into it. The words suddenly shifted, becoming "stay".
"We're safe, I think," I said.
My family nodded, lips tight. We watched as the planes grew closer; more explosions in the distance as farms, homes, and neighbors were destroyed. The night seemed almost like day, fires clawing at the sky, and the wind carried soot into our nostrils. Were those ... screams? I jammed my fingers into my ears. We were all waiting, I knew, just counting down the seconds ...
Though we'd been expecting it, the destruction of our house took us by surprise. There was a shrill whistling, then a bright bloom of flame that consumed everything we'd had. Mother and Sally clutched each other, crying; father's expression could have chipped steel. The twins, however, just stared dully. I covered their eyes, wishing someone could do the same for me.
***
By the time our farm had been burned to its foundations, my family had given in to exhaustion once more. I couldn't sleep, however. My brain was racing--who had done this? Who could have gone to war with us? Why?
Why target innocent farmers?
As I sat in the trench with my feet up against my chest, listening to my family sleep, and the songs of oblivious birds, while the horizon brightened--real sunlight this time--I realized I had to do something. My brain was going to drive me crazy otherwise. I climbed out of the trench and trekked toward the house, figuring to salvage anything I could.
The words showed up again. "Stay".
"No," I muttered to myself. "I need to help my family."
I broke into a run, irrational rage building at the words. Tell me who did this, I tried to command. But they didn't waver. Stay. Who? Stay.
"No!" I screamed, reaching our yard. Other than some blackened, skeletal timbers, nothing remained. From the ruins of the barn came a sickening smell of charred meat, and I almost retched.
Sinking to my knees, I clawed at burnt soil. In the span of a single night, we'd lost everything.
Then something slammed into the back of my head, knocking me face-first into the ground. I spat dirt and tried to get up, but something thin, cold and hard pressed into my back.
A voice said something, words I didn't understand. Another replied.
In all honesty, bad grades weren't the only things Pete and I shared.
We also never backed down from a fight.
I rolled over and scrambled up. My attackers appeared to be two men, wearing navy blue uniforms and carrying rifles. They appeared surprised that I'd recovered so quickly from the blow, and that bought me a precious second to lunge at the nearest one. My right fist caught him on the chin, while my left dug into his belly. He gasped, staggering back.
Leaving me open to his companion. The other soldier smiled viciously, then opened fire at my chest. At such a close range, he couldn't miss. He didn't. The crack must have echoed for miles.
The bullet tore through my chest; the impact drove me back a step. In my head, I knew I was dead. Yet, I didn't fall over. There wasn't even pain.
The soldier's eyes grew wide, and I followed his gaze. There was a neat hole through my shirt and in my chest, but not a single drop of blood. Instead, some sort of strange, sparking tendril had popped out of the wound.
He stammered something in his language, even as I threw myself at the other soldier. I slammed my head into his nose, then snatched his gun away. The panicking soldier raised his rifle, but I was faster; one had to be, when sniping rabbits. My shot took him in the left eye. Then I swiveled around at his companion and fired; blood sprayed from his throat.
As the sounds of gunfire died away, and the adrenaline drained away, I scuttled back and threw the rifle down. What the hell? I felt at my wound again--still no blood. I didn't even feel winded. Was this related to the words, somehow?
And if so ... what was I?
***
*Thanks for reading! Check out my [sub](Http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more writing!* | The dog was barking.
I'd always been a little nervous around most dogs. Something to do with how I'd antagonized one as a dumb little kid who didn't know better, and gotten bitten for it. I'd deserved it. But ever since then, I just hadn't loved dogs. That hadn't mattered to Matts, though. He loved dogs. I didn't like them all that much. So we had compromised by getting a dog, of course.
He was the love of my life. The day I met him, I'd just known he was the one for me.
Although... it also didn't hurt that I'd had a message telling me about him.
Let's take a step back. Ever since I was a kid, I've always known what to do. I don't know why, but I'll get a message in what looks like a hybrid of Roboto Mono and Comic Sans. (Don't ask me why Comic Sans. All I know is that it's easy to read, and it looks like the messages I see. It's not like I chose the font.) Each message tells me what to do, often before I even consciously know that it's the thing that's most important to do: {Get the mail.} {Get ready for work.} {Buy Mom her birthday gift.} You know, the sort of thought you have when you're driving or walking from one room to the other and trying to remember what you need to do next. I don't know where it came from, and I don't know why it happens to me. I've never really asked anyone about it, because I don't want to get chucked into the looney bin or get probed by the CIA. It's not that bad, really. Most of the time, it's pretty mundane stuff.
Occasionally, though, it lets me know if something important is about to happen. Like the day that I met Matthias Mason. I had walked into the bar that night and seen my message switch from {Meet Shelby} to {Find your Companion}, which let me tell you was really freaking confusing. My eyes swept across the room, both trying to find my best friend and see if I could find this Companion my brain message was going on about. Shelby was in the far right corner from the entrance, grinning at a tall well-built man with unruly brown hair and kind eyes. I could tell from the few words I could snatch up from the din of the crowd that she was talking about me. (Well, I heard "short" and "short-tempered" and just knew.) Uh oh. I hustled over before she could tell the (very embarrassing) story of the time I got kicked out of the Australian Embassy in D.C. I'd elbowed a couple of people aside in order to get there, but I barely made it as she was hooting, "And then there was the time she subletted an apartment in D.C. with a guy who..."
"Hey Shelby!" I tried to plaster on a friendly smile over the flared nostrils and puckered lips that characterized my "Please stop talking about me" face.
She took a big gulp out of her half-empty Long Island. "Oh! She's here! I was just telling Matt about you. This is the friend I was telling you about." That's when I found my hand gently gripped by a hand the size of a brown bear's paw.
"Pleased to meet you, miss." He looked in my eyes, and I felt my heart skip a beat. He was the most handsome man I'd ever seen in my life. Shelby knew I had a type, and he was such an exact match it was more like all the other attractive men I'd seen in my life were just poorly scanned copies of this prototype. The moment he touched me, I felt like lightning had struck me and the electricity jolted my sleeping heart awake. It was finally beating. I was alive now.
The message changed. {Grab a drink with your friends.}
I guess I'd found him.
But now he wasn't moving. I tried to shake my head free of the heavy fog of memory, the dream I always had of the first night I'd ever met him. The problem, I realized, was that the fog wasn't just in my head - it was on the floor, in the air. I had thought my eyes were cloudy from sleepiness, but instead it was a cataract of smoke. I tried to push him, roll him from side to side. I slapped him once. He moaned a little. That was all.
And the dog was still barking. I finally registered the message that had been there all along: {Get to safety}. Damn. There were only two exits to our bedroom - just the door that barely held back the flood of smoke creeping inside insidiously, and the bedroom window. I prayed to the fire gods to keep the oxygen only in this room, where it couldn't feed the flames in the rest of the apartment complex. Thank goodness we were only on the first floor. I decided to take my chances, pull open the window, and tried to rip through the screen with my fingers. The barking started to slow down, but an icy fear grabbed my heart and twisted. Matts.
In all this time, he hadn't woken up. I slapped Matts again. He was unresponsive. I almost sobbed. This was the man of my dreams, and he wasn't waking up in the middle of the worst nightmare of my life. But that's when I got mad. THIS was the man of my dreams, dammit! I was NOT going to leave him on this bed. I ignored the message (because it didn't say I couldn't also bring the companion of my life to safety with me) and finally tore the screen with the strength of my desperation. I tried to wiggle myself under his shoulder so I could lever him high enough to fall through the broken screen. I could finally feel my strength failing me, the smoke making its way treacherously into my lungs, settling down, weighing me down.
I heard the approaching sirens and felt my hopes rise. We could survive this. Help was on the way! The dog had quieted down, and the message was starting to fade ominously. And that's when I realized that the message, so succinct, so commanding, spoke volumes about what I should do and what I couldn't do. It wasn't just a command. It was a proscription. The tears burst out of my eyes, blinding me along with the smoke. I wriggled out again and pulled myself out of the window, arms like jelly. I crawled away on the grass away from the building, choking on fresher air. There was a small crowd of people outside.
The message didn't change. I felt myself being dragged away by the abuela who lived next door, and croaked uselessly at her. "Matts." She didn't hear me. I looked around and located a firefighter, stumbling bowlegged and ready to collapse from exhaustion and from the pummeling my body had taken, was still taking, from the smoke inhalation. He turned around slowly when I touched him on the shoulder.
"My husband," I gasped to him as he turned around. "Please." I pointed to the window I'd just exited out of.
He took my hand. "It's okay, my guys are already in there. They're getting everybody out as we speak." His voice was soothing, but loud and purposeful. He was in charge. He had control over the situation. It was going to be fine.
And that's when the message finally changed.
{Wait.}
I've been waiting for days now, waiting in the hospital for any good news to come out. The dog had made it out alive but several people needed urgent care. A few of my neighbors died within the next 24 hours. The fire was on the local news channel while I waited in the hospital lobby that first night, hoping and hoping. It was the biggest fire in the past few years in our county.
And still I wait. For the man of my dreams to come home to me. And in the meantime, I just hold his big pale paw. | 2019-02-20T23:08:20 | 2019-02-20T22:41:30 | 1,038 | 83 |
[WP] You're new girlfriend turns out to be a psycho mass murderer. However she's deeply in love with you and would never do anything to harm you. | The first time she came home with blood on her clothing, my hands shook so hard that she was able to snatch the phone from me before I could call the police. She sat me down, staring at me with familiar brown eyes as she spoke in a calm, steady voice for all of ten seconds before I blacked out. When I woke up, the apartment was clean and she smiled as though nothing happened. I let myself believe nothing did.
The second time, her hair reeked of sweat and cigarettes. She wore her favorite navy hoodie, which was now drenched in blood. I vomited, adding another sickening stench to her sneakers. Her gentle reassurances drifted into my ears in between my heaves as I emptied out my stomach.
The next few times were a blur. I might have gotten sick again. I definitely cried. But each time, without fail, she would rub my back and promise me that I was safe with her, that she actually wasn't doing anything wrong... Her victims were bad people. I didn't ask for proof. The less I knew the better.
The most distinct instance had to have been the eighth. I remember it clearly because it was the only time she wasn't cool about the whole situation. She arrived in a panic, shedding her foul clothes and immediately dumping them in the bathtub. Her hair was a mess and she was muttering anxiously under her breath. When I asked her what was wrong, she admitted there had been a witness this time. He got away before she could do anything, and, in a blind panic, she had run home. She burst into tears in my tense arms. I kissed her repeatedly, praying that everything would go well in the end.
We watched the news with baited breath each night for three days straight, until finally the news anchor broke the story of my girlfriend's last victim. The witness reported the killer as being "a woman in her twenties, with long brown hair" and the accompanying sketch showcased a woman with a nose too thick and eyes too small to look anything like my red headed girlfriend. I found myself cheering, and we celebrated with the most passionate sex we had had in almost a year.
Now, she's out on her 27th hunt, and I'm home patiently awaiting her arrival. I have a warm bath running for her, and a thermos full of her favorite tea on the table. I believed her when she said she would protect me. It was all I could do to return the favor. | "You know I love you, right?"
"Ugh, yeah, of course I do." That's never a good way to start a conversation. What was she thinking, what could possibly be going through her mind that she'd need to warm me up like this?
"I do, I mean it, and I'd never do anything to hurt you. You're different, you're not like them; I love you."
Those words stuck out to me: "like them." "Them" being her, shall we say, stress relievers. I knew what she was; aside from simply mesmerizing I liked to think that she was my type of crazy, not the same but in a complimentary sense. I wasn't like her but I knew what she was: dangerous.
"I know, I know. Bee, what's this about? What's on your mind?"
She looked at me sheepishly, her pale green eyes trying to draw me in and distract me from the complexity of thought behind them. That's how she did it, I knew that much.
"I love you, I do. I love you and only you and I promise I'll never hurt you...it's just that sometimes I think about it." Her voice trailed off as she spoke as if she were losing herself to the idea by just speaking of it.
"Bee..." I managed to choke out, quiet as a breath. "Bee, what do you mean?"
I knew what she was, maybe that made me the deranged one. | 2016-07-23T18:14:57 | 2016-07-23T16:04:19 | 117 | 15 |
[WP] You're a small-time thief who's stuck in a loop of an attempted robbery; you've been caught numerous times and your day resets to the point of you entering the building. The only way to break the loop is to successfully escape with the goods but every plan you've attempted is met with demise. | Part 1
The bank’s alarm system blared in my ears. People scrambled behind desks and over counters. Papers littered the air like Christmas streamers. Roger and Jack were taking cover behind their respective pillars, this time they switched—this only occurred once every four loops. Meanwhile, I stood at the center of the atrium, staring up at the glittering chandelier. I felt the piercing blow of a bullet slamming into my left shoulder blade—number two hundred-forty-two. You never really get used to getting shot and technically this was the first one I felt in this timeline, but after a hundred or so gun shot wounds, you just stop caring. I let my arm go limp, but continued to focus on the chandelier. Have you even wondered how they get it up there? Do they have someone get on a really big ladder who then combs through it and straightens every shining piece? Two forty-three seared through my kneecap. Kneecap shots are a bitch in case you were wondering. Instinctively my hands reached down and I slipped on my own blood, heading slamming against the marble floor.
I looked over at Jack. His arm extended from behind the pillar and I could see the snake tattoo beneath his leather glove. He fired. The bullet sailed across the panicked sea and lodged itself in asshole guard number two. Nice shot Jack, I thought. Better watch nine o’clock though. I didn’t bother saying it out loud. A column of SWAT members decorated in heavy armor flanked the pair from their left. They opened fire without hesitation. Roger dove out of the way; Jack didn’t see it coming. His body instantly changed into a pincushion. Following to his knees, gun still waving in the air, Jack fired off three shots into the air—one of which tore through the chandelier’s support cable. The massive crown tilted slightly and let out a soft groan. Gravity took the jewel and I was ready to don it on my head—death by chandelier, this was a first and perhaps the second most interesting way to die.
SNAP
Jack held the door open as he waved to Steve in the alley. The wheelman gave him the signal and the three of us entered the bank—my legs moving automatically. The phantom pain in my shoulder blade and knee was a nice cherry on top of the massive migraine shaking my skull.
Ok, so let’s run this through again.
If type A Roger shoots the roof, the senior teller presses the alarm, and the two pigs sitting in the diner across the street that Steve somehow missed run in and we all die.
If trigger happy Jack shoots said teller, this sends asshole guard number one into a frenzy, and for some reason, I get shot in the neck.
Never start by shooting the guards. Cowboy Woody, who is conveniently hidden in the next room, sees his buddy go down and signals high noon. The three of us hit the ground before we get another shot off. In twenty-three attempts—yes I tried that many times—never once have I been able to hit the old man. The guy is like the vengeful ghost of Western filmography’s past.
And if I throw in the towel and give up, Jack shoots me in the back. I gotta say, I really hate that guy.
As we walked down the hall, I caught Roger by the arm as he slipped on the wet floor. The janitor looked up at our arsenal for a second before abandoning his mop and bucket. I’ve never shot him before. He disappeared around the corner—maybe next time.
Time to get creative.
My peripheral vision snagged the red hue of the fire alarm and I pulled down hard. The alarm came to life and everyone in the building looked around before their attention centered on the three of us. Without a moment’s hesitation, I shot at the chandelier. It teetered momentarily before releasing from its shackles. Just as it crashed into the ground, I had my gun pointed at the teller.
“Hi there.”
| *Whorp*
Man insanity tastes like flat soda. It has all the characteristics of real soda, but none of the fizzle of progress. I like being suspended in time as much as anyone else, but sometimes you want the real thing.
Where I live is boring most of the time, but it's a college town. In the summer it's cool, because everyone is plotting on; sneaking into pools, doing psychoactive substances, plus it's warm so girls never wear clothes. Sadly September passes, and the leaves fall it gets cold and ugly. Suddenly booty wants to stay indoors, hidden under layers of; cotton, denim, and excuses. The only solace in those trying times is a tiny overlap of homecoming celebrations which features trouble of all tastes. Having resources during that time of the year could make up for living the exact same day for the ensuing 6 months. That's why I'm breaking into a "Radio Shack" wearing Vans and a makeshift bandit hat featuring a pink pom pom. All plans sound like "Oceans 14" when you've only ingested AdderallXR 20 mg tabs, and Newport 100s for the last 36 hours. I want to get as many iPhones as I can carry, and possibly a couple of Androids as projectiles in case I have to defend myself. This one is so simple. So as I'm sure you know, Radio Shack has had better days. They are however, firmly in the "Hoodie Melo" stage of life. The specific jawn I've got my eye shares half its location with a gas station. My guess, as I only found this on accident once while the run from being trapped in a closet of a married man's house, but I digress, Money laundering. Yup! Either that, or someone tried to jump too far into the wilderness of introducing truckers to cell phones, and tried to corner the market. So when the Radio Shack closes, it's still 100% accessible. Babytown frolics. So the two issues I'm having are, 1. I can't get in and out discreetly, as there are so many fucking truckers, and assorted scalliwags, and country people who feel obligated to call the police. 2., and possibly more important, I've died 3 times trying this. Other popular results have included "Going to jail". Some of these outcomes are supposed to be mutually exclusive, so I'm sure you can see my dilemma. Never seen "Groundhog Day", and there's no way I could possibly enjoy the narrative now. I get the gist though, and I want to know how I can win this scenario. Just to readjust our context, winning is escaping with enough money to be an ass hole and get away with it because I have enough money to perpetrate the fraud I actually have real money. Okay, same page. I think I just need a distraction. Wish me luck. Or send me money on Cash app $LVbagsundermyis. Anything helps. | 2018-11-13T12:29:23 | 2018-11-13T07:06:15 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] "Best me in a contest, or I'll take your souls!" the Prince of Darkness roared. The Fighter's sword was broken, the Wizard's spells useless; even the Cleric's prayers went unanswered. The Bard alone stepped forward, and grinned. "Don't worry guys," they said. "I'm from Georgia." | "From Georgia you say?" The beastly behemoth huffed and puffed and it took the group a moment to realize the monstrosity was, in fact, laughing.
"I suppose you're out for and old style fiddle off, ain't ya boy?" The beast's scruffy beard crackled with heat as it drew the tips of its clawed fingers through it.
"Oh, not at all. There's just this really good merchant there, sells some special guitars y'know?"
The beast tilted its head, seemingly in confusion, as it stared down at the bard it towered over. The bard, only a spec before the monstrous hooves of his opponent, began unstrapping the bulky backpack he had brought on every journey since, just for this very opportunity. From the square leather bag, he produced a black box, bearing holes in one side. Eagerly the bard fiddled with things that looked to the group like thin black ropes, jamming their metallic ends into the holes on the side of the box.
"And just wait 'till you see this, man!" The bard said, as he proudly unzipped the longish black bag he had brought along their quest, together with the black box. They belonged together, after all. Plugging the other metallic ends of the thin black robes into the strangely shaped guitar he had produced, the bard set one foot onto the black box, dramatically cracking his neck before exclaiming:
"I, Jakob Blackus the third, challenge you to a rock off!"
Needless to say, the beast was stunned. And its utter confusion only grew as the bard followed up:
"And since it was technichally you who challenged me, it is only in the sense of good sport that I go first!"
And before even waiting for his opponent's response, the bard began strumming his strange, otherwordly guitar, producing the most outrageous of sounds to have ever come from an instrument! The charred black stone walls of the beast's layer seemed to be shaking with the pure power of the bard's music. And what a music it was! It was as though it was a song, that only possibly could be played once every hundred thousand years, a song that made the moon shine, the grass grow, and make every being present understand that one and one make two, and two and one make three. And as the bard played on, not only his group, but the beast alike knew, this had to be the single best song in the world.
And as the bard had played his last note, and the air still felt vibrant with this unforgetable melody only the gods themselves could have brought down on this earth, the prince of darkness stood in stupor, staring down at the bard. After a while, in which nobody had dared to break the silence of this perfect, breathless aftershock, the beast finally opened his mouth, it's voice trembling with a blend of fear and admiration as he spoke:
"I submit. This has to be the single greatest piece of music ever performed."
The bard shook his head, as he began packing up his strange contraption of an instrument.
"Naah man, you really think? I swear I had something totally different in mind, but I kinda blanked and realized I didn't have down the chords for the middle part, so I just kinda improvised. But I guess that's more, like, a matter of opinion. This was really more of a tribute." | “You are from Georgia?”
He smiled, and took of his tattered hat. His robes swayed in the window, dust scattering around him.
“Yes. Tbilisi, in fact. I came here to Macchu Picchu in order to test my skills as a bard. To oppose the forces of evil.”
He popped open the cap of the scroll he kept around his waist, and removed a small flute, gently taking it within his hands. He took a deep breath, facing down Kaji, the Prince of Darkness himself.
“Ochopintre, lend me your aid.”
The fallen cleric watched as light flowed around this bard, and filled the flute within his hands as well as illuminating his flowing robes. He looked regal, imposing.
Kaji snarled, and spat a black substance on the ground.
“I do not care where you are from. Look around you, see the devastation of your allies. Your Japanese cleric, your Irish wizard, your American fighter.”
The bard smiled, and uttered an incantation, sending forth a snake from his flute. The serpent slithered across the cracked earth, as Kaji watched it curiously.
“A snake? Pathetic. Pointless.”
The snake continued on, leaving behind a trail of thick slime.
The bard continued to smile placidly, and Kaji noticed that his incapacitated allies also smiled.
The bard stepped forward, and played a single note on his flute, as the snake furiously dodged Kaji’s frenzied attacks.
The bard stopped playing, as Kaji began to crumble, the snake slowly absorbing his once stellar energy.
“See, the significance of my Georgian heritage is simple, Kaji. You see, you are also from Georgia, no?”
The snake began to dance, creating a symbol on the floor with the trail of slime.
“Kaji, we are two halves of one whole, born from darkness sealed within Tbilisi’s sanctuary.”
The bard looked at his palm, which radiated the same symbol that the snake created.
“And now I merge the halves together, and put an end to this.”
Kaji called out from the darkness, a frenzied, manic, desperate call.
“The Lektor still lives!”
The bard smiled, as he crumbled just as Kaji had.
His flute broke up into small pieces of spirit, which flew to his fallen allies. | 2018-07-30T09:25:30 | 2018-07-30T08:18:44 | 93 | 62 |
[WP] Seduce me.
And no NSFW stuff, either. Keep it classy. | Hi. I'm Michael. Do you mind if I sit down?
How're you doing?
Well, I'm glad to hear that. My day is going well, thanks for asking.
So what do you do?
No, I don't mean, how do you make money, I mean, what do you do? What's your thing?
Oh really? That must be interesting. How do you do that?
So what does a normal day of doing that....I dunno, what all goes into that?
Wow, that's really interesting. I've never done anything like that. You should show me that sometime. I'd really like that.
Oh, well, for money, I work in a cubicle. It's exactly the opposite of glamorous or interesting. But I write and I'm a cyclist. Mostly, I like tinkering or doing things with my hands. I like taking things apart, seeing how they work and putting them back together. Woodworking. Sewing. Yes, I sew. Basically anything that I get to use my hands, and where there's a decent chance of getting dirty or making a mess.
Haha. Yeah, just like that. You have a great laugh, you know that?
No, I mean it. It's infectious and sort of takes over your whole body.
Can I get you something? A drink? Great. That sounds good. I think I'll have one, too.
Can you believe how hard it was to get to this place? What was with that parking situation?
Oh my gosh, I know! And that guy out front? What was his deal? Haha!
See, there's that laugh again.
I'm sorry, I'm not trying to embarrass you. At all.
Listen, I've got to run, but I had such a great time talking and I'd like to do it some more. Why don't you give me your number and we can get together over dinner later this week?
------
*Sorry, I couldn't do it all at once, that's just not my style.*
*Edit: just noticed I pasted it twice. Fixed now. | I had a dream about us, you know.
I saw us sitting on a bluff overlooking a canyon with the sun just ending its journey across the horizon and sinking behind the mountains in the distance.
But we could have cared less about our surroundings. With a toss of my hair and a knowing yet warm smile, I drew you in like a fisher's catch. Earlier we had kept up conversation, topics staying intellectual but never seeming to get dry. Now we were in silence, nearly reading the other's mind.
It's curious how we can know what the other is thinking, but even more curious how easily our intelligence can give way to unrestrained romance.
A soft and playful kiss on the tip of your nose, a sparkle in my eye to make you blush with humility. You long to return the kiss but are unsure of my reaction.
So to welcome you in I place an arm around your shoulders and lean in close, an obvious and yet still intimate invitation.
By the time the sun had disappeared there was love.
But I wonder now, was it just a dream? Or would you react the same in the real world...? | 2014-01-19T21:46:25 | 2014-01-19T20:40:44 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] The dragon looked down at the dwarf in perplexment. Many had come before to steal its treasure, to take its life, but no one had ever said that they would voluntarily add coin to his hoard. "So explain this investing to me again." | [Quickly thrown together, sorry!]
"You are insane, or foolish, dwarf, to come here and suggest that I, the dread Ignisatrix, should give my coin away!" The dragon snarled, only its eyes visible in the gloom that lay before the dwarf.
"No, no, no, you're missing the point - I'm not suggesting you give it away, I'm suggesting you loan and invest it. That is to say, people pay to borrow money off of you, or you give a business some money in return for part ownership of it. Then they pay you a portion of the profits. It's very simple really."
The dragon bellowed, "THIEVERY! The soft-skinned races cannot be trusted! They would steal my coin, and in exacting just retribution, the ire of petty lords and mages would be raised against me, and lo would slayers and thieves come to my hall!"
After picking himself back up, having been knocked down by the force of the Dragon's displeasure; "No! In fact, when you lend people money, they'd agree - under the law of the land - that you'd be entitled to recover your capital if they default on the loan. And the princes of the realm would be more than happy to give you the go-ahead. I'm not sure you're aware, but between the orc invasions, necromancers and demonic incursions we get every week, everyone is holding onto their cash. It's causing economic ruin, you know! We need some liquidity or we're doomed! DOOMED!"
The dragon stared, slightly dumbfounded by the dwarf's monologue, tried to but in again, but now the stocky figure was railing against the failures in fiscal policy in full flow, and nothing could derail him.
"And the worst thing, is those bloody adventurers who swan in, stab the latest warlord and swan out again! People bury or hide their belongings to avoid a damn good pillaging, and those little toerags think that the Pantheon themselves have reached down with their golden hands and blessed them with utter impunity to walk off with whatever isn't nailed down! It's ridiculous!" The dwarf finally finishing his rant, panting a little with a lack of breath. The dragon had heard something else though that had caught their attention.
"Well, Master Dwarf, do you think the people of the realm would appreciate a safe place to store the products of their labours and toil? We could give them a small pittance, that we may be benefactors to further softskins.. Yes, this pleases me... And by the Cursed Nine, I'd love to keep coin out of the hands of those heavily-armed vagrants!" The dragon chortled to herself, tail swishing audibly with excitement.
The dwarf smiled to himself, stroking his large, black, bushy beard "Yes... If we could provide a stable source of capital to the Lords and Ladies of the realm, they might actually be able to afford a decent standing army, and we wouldn't need adventurers to come save our asses every other week..."
And so it came to pass, that the Kingdom, through sound financial planning, economic strength and responsible business practices, became the only realm in the world not to be plagued by the threats that dragged down the others. This lead to the Kingdom being considered something of a Mary-Sue faction, causing adventurers to avoid it even more, which meant even fewer reasons to have the inhabitants butchered periodically in order to raise the stakes. | "So explain this investing to me again."
"It's simple, really," The petite dwarf tousling her thick black curls playfully, continued, "I add to your glorious... collection," she gestured to several mountains of glittering coins and jewels that filled most of the cave, "and you in turn eliminate my enemies. More of a deal, than an investment, your greatness."
Tallhus's menacing glare grew more intense, and Halla couldn't tell if it was animosity, bewilderment or something more that locked the great beast in thought. After a short moment, his eyes quickly flickered with interest.
"How many enemies...?" His serpent-like tongue snaked it's way out of his giant maw as he spoke, flicking back and forth, seemingly without his awareness.
Halla made a smirk, scrambling the snow-white freckles that dotted her dark face like a bustling city street in nighttime.
"There are two dwarven empires that neighbor mine. You may have seen them before, your benevolence."
The great dragon's head lurched to the side, his eyes turning to gaze into the depths of the cavern, where he knew the entrance to his lair remained.
"Hestia and Brugahl. Yes, I'm familiar with them."
Waiting to see if Tallhus would continue, Halla breathlessly chimed in, "I'll give you fifty thousand geldihn for each empire-"
"Make it one hundred thousand each, no less."
Halla looked to the ground, shuffling her feet nervously as she mulled the idea over cautiously in her head.
Tallhus arched his spiked back, unfurling his enormous wings as he stretched, half yawning as he spoke in a defeated sigh, "If your empire's legacy means less than some geldihn to you, then I believe we're done here, mortal."
"One hundred thousand it is, then." The dwarf's shaded grey eyes shining with determination, she faced the dragon with a newfound unshakable demeanor.
Tallhus turned to face her yet again, hiding his growing sense of glee behind a flat expression. He flashed the dwarven woman a curt disapproving look as he nodded to her, dismissing her from his home.
As she trotted off into the darkness from where she came, Tallhus allowed his devilish grin to fully creep across his scaly face.
He had plans. | 2019-02-17T06:09:33 | 2019-02-16T23:10:54 | 45 | 29 |
[WP] You're mindlessly scrolling through random subreddits when you find a subreddit filled with photos of you at different hours of the day, explanations of all your activities, people discussing what life decisions you'll take. Confused, you notice a new post titled: "We've been found!" | “Damn. They really upvoting pics of me at work. Why y’all people so interested in watching me cut golf hole cups? The real deal is me mowing tees, everyone knows that is the real show stopper. What’s next? ASMR Green Syringing? ,” I joke to myself.
While mostly lighthearted, I can’t help but feel this niche subreddit I stumbled across is a bit unsettling. I mean whoever is running this subreddit is posting pics of things that most people would not be privy to. And my Subway order? Seriously? Well... that’s not too bad. What’s is really concerning is that they posted my route that I take home on sunny days, out in the countryside. This leads me to believe that I have stalker out there somewhere. Just watching me.
I scroll a little bit more and find one post that startles me to the bone. It’s a picture of me chilling on my couch at home and the caption said “he’s probably thinking I have nothing better to do than watch him all day. Well he’d be right😈”
I immediately sit up and look out the window to the spot where it looks the picture like it was taken... nothing there but two shoe imprints in the grass. I shout “okay, jokes over now! You got me! Har dee har har!” I shout to no one in particular. At this point I’m on complete edge. What the fuck is going here?
I look down at my phone at the subreddit... a new post.
It’s a photo of me standing... at the window... looking my phone. The caption reads “shit, we’ve been found.” |
Scroll scroll the reddit deeps see the pictures taken by creeps
See me both young and old on r/Rix-pics and if your not sold post my nudes be sure to get gold!
Scroll Scroll the reddit deeps gasp the pictures taken by creeps,
Oh what's the matter all these pictures left my mind in a splatter
Scroll scroll the reddit deeps see the pictures taken by creeps,
Oh how weird you thought in your head pictures of you counting sheep in your bed.
Scroll scroll the reddit deeps see the pictures taken by creeps,
Sort by new make the rounds see the post we've been found... | 2020-06-30T11:25:05 | 2020-06-30T09:04:49 | 210 | 30 |
[WP] A person who looks exactly like you appears out of thin air in front of you. He starts explaining how he is you from a hellish other universe. As he starts to describe it, you realize its better than yours. | The portal crackled and popped, my computer fried itself as a small tendril of energy slid into it. As if on a final note, the lightbulb above me popped off. Luckily the sunlight coming through my window was enough to see by easily.
"Hello," I said. Well, the person that looked exactly like me that had stepped through the portal said to me. I said to me. Well, you get the picture.
"What the hell?" I asked myself gently.
"Hell, indeed," Myself said to me, "I am from a parallel universe that endures great, great suffering. I have come to seek refuge here."
"Wait, you're a me from there?" I asked myself as I pointed to where the stablized portal now sizzed and gidded malevolently.
"I'm a you from there," he nodded, I noted he wore a tie. Strange, I hate ties, "First, let me tell you about my world."
"Please do," I said, offering myself a seat. I took the seat. Well, myself took the seat. He that was me took the seat.
"The vampires won't let me sleep," Myself told me and my eyes went wide, so I explained, "Not blood drinking vampires!" He corrected, his lips trembling, "They are mutated from humans but feed off of worry."
"Wait, they drain your worry?" I queried, trying to find the hell-ness in this.
"Yes," he yelled, jumping to my feet, "Can you imagine worrying about your finals and then suddenly you're all happy with this sexy vampiress standing over you, just offering herself?"
"I... I... can if I try. I think." A smile playing on my lips, "I don't understand how that is..."
"Oh! Oh!" Myself told me, "Plus my cancer diagnosis!"
"What?" I was on my feet now, "Does that mean I have cancer?"
"How should I know? Go to the Free Health Clinic," he told me, "They'll give you this painful injection. They did from me, but then they charged me! The Free CLINIC charged me!"
"Wait," I asked myself, trying to take it all in "Free clinic? You are from the U.S. too right?" Myself nodded in the affirmative then it hit me, "They gave you a shot that cured your cancer?"
"Yes, and charged me one dollar!" I yelled, "One dollar. Now I'm no longer a billionaire. What is a man to do with only $999,999.999 to his name?"
"B-billion?" I stuttered, my jaw dropping slightly.
"Not a billion, are you even listening about the hellscape that I must endure?" Me asked I.
"I tell you what I shall do," I said standing, "I shall, for the sake of us, become myself in the other there while you live in this paradise world in my stead!"
"You would do that?" Me looked at me, tearfully.
"Of course," I smiled as I stepped halfway into the portal, "Farewell me!"
"Goodbye, I!" he sobbed, "I can worry without those sexy vampires, at last!"
"Sucker!" I smiled and stepped through.
"Wait, wha..." was the last thing I heard. | Okay.
So, my name is Marigold Summers, and I'm 27 years old. Born on the 8th of June, 2055.
When Earth imploded, I was one of the lucky few whose names were drawn to survive. Sure, the survival aspect of it all was in definite question, but in all honesty, what sounds better to you? A: you stay and become obliterated into space dust along with everyone else. Or B: you hop into a space-time machine that may or may not obliterate you into space dust.
My choice is obvious, since I'm writing to you now. I'm pretty sure space dust can't write, but I guess I'll never know.
When I first saw my double - same name, same age, born in 1992 - I knew immediately something had gone terribly wrong. The machine, whatever its name was, was meant to replace our doubles with ourselves.
It was also meant to take us to an alternate world, a perfect world, in which the whole "imploding planet" thing didn't and would never happen. But as you can probably tell, that didn't work either. Or at least, they only got it half right.
So here I am, a futuristic masterpiece completely decked out with the best gear the science community of 2067 had to offer, on a backwards planet in 2019. The only perk to this whole schtick is that Mark, as I - she - he - whatever - calls himself, has an honest-to-god house with a *garden*, and doesn't seem to mind having a weirdo like me camping in his attic.
Oh, and The Omen doesn't exist, which is always a plus in my books.
But other than that, the politics are wrong, the language is wrong (I only barely managed cuz of my translating script), the people are wrong, the world itself is wrong, and... I could go on, but we don't have all day.
Well, the reason I'm writing this now is because I'm nervous. I have a "job interview" for some kind of monopolised trader's hub. Just wanted to 'let it all out' beforehand, as Mark's therapist says. Therapist... they don't even have EI. What kind of world doesn't have EI?
...Kedeistian Alliance Above All, and Holy Sons of Gritscheld, please have mercy. This world is Hell. | 2019-12-18T04:36:27 | 2019-12-18T03:05:38 | 983 | 134 |
[WP] You have a power that you are not aware of. If you believe something to be true, you are able to warp reality to make it true.
First prompt :D | "Sarah, what is this rabbit doing in your room?"
"You got it for me, Mommy", Sarah replied, laughing and squeezing the small animal close to her chest.
"I got you a stuffed rabbit, Sarah. Not a real one."
"Well I thought he was real and he would come to life while I was asleep and he did!", Sarah exclaimed proudly.
"That's impossible, honey. This rabbit must have came in through the window during the night."
"No, he came to life! He really did Mommy!" Sarah looked up at her mother with hopeful eyes. "I can still keep him, right?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Sarah! Thank goodness you're alright!"
Sarah looked up at her mother, confused. "Of course I am. The zoo is fun!"
"Sarah, I've been looking for you for *hours*. The zoo is a two hour drive from our house. How did you even get here?"
Sarah twisted her mouth and looked upwards, deep in thought. "I don't really know, Mommy. But...we were supposed to go to the zoo today, right? So here I am!"
"Sarah, that was *next* Friday. And are you telling me you have no idea how you got here? Do you know how worried I was? It's a good thing the neighbours saw you and called me... Were you with strangers? Did anyone approach you?"
"No Mommy, I just...thought we were supposed to go to the zoo today..." Sarah, sensing her mother's distress, began to cry softly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Goodnight, Sarah."
"Don't leave me Mommy! You can't go!" Sarah was frantic, and pulled her sheets up over her face in an attempt to hide her fear.
"Honey, I'm just down the hall. You have to be a big girl and sleep in your own bed, okay?"
"No Mommy! There's a monster under my bed!"
"Sarah, you know I already checked there, right? There's nothing."
"But there is! It's a big slimy monster with long arms and sharp teeth and he's going to try and eat me, I just know it!"
"Sweetie, that's just not true. Now I have to go to bed, okay? I'll see you in the morning."
"It is true!" Sarah shouted, but the door had already slammed shut. | The power descended on her at half past three on her birthday. She was at the beach, with friends, idle and happy and brown from the summer sun. A sharp grimace tightened her face as the power filled her. Somewhere inside, a step past knowing, she knew something was wrong.
The world darkened. Turned sallow.
Something strange had happened. Something perhaps wrong. She shook her head to cast away the cobwebs spidering and scurrying across her mind. They would not go away. Her head snapped up but the sky...
The sun was red and malevolent and angry.
No, she shut her eyes. No, no, no. I'm happy, she thought. I'm with my friends. Everything is fine. I'm going to play volleyball in a bit and then ice-cream and...
She opened her eyes. The world was bright and happy.
"Stacy! Stacy!" someone called out to her from further down the beach.
Her face relaxed into a pretty dimpled smile. It was going to be great. Life was great.
But not normal at all, the voice at the edge of her mind whispered.The world was bright, and sunny, and happy, but not normal at all. | 2016-05-09T13:17:29 | 2016-05-09T11:31:15 | 36 | 10 |
[WP] You've narrowed down the list of possible murderers to three people - the son of the dead man, the wife of the dead man and the dead man's pet rock. Something deep within you knows that the pet rock is the one who killed him. | I had them all at gunpoint. One of them was a violent murderer, and I was going to prove it. The evidence had all pointed to these three people: the son, the wife, and the family pet. These cases were as clear cut as they can get.
The son claims to have been up in his room working on homework. The door was closed and a sock that had been hanging on the doorknob was now on the floor. He claims to have heard the thud coming from downstairs; he felt the reverberations through the floor and went to check it out.
The wife claims to have been in the kitchen making supper for the family -- steak and salad, with extra croutons. She also claims to have heard a thud and went to investigate. By the time I had gotten the call, the food was still warm, unlike the man who was face-first into the living room floor.
The rock, however, was the most interesting suspect. No matter how hard I pressed, it refused to budge. My stony expression, despite how intimidating and fear-inducing it had been in the past, didn't even faze it. Of course, the family questioned me. Why would I interview something that can't communicate? It's just a pet, it can't tell you.
That's where they were wrong. Everything has to have a story, and you can't always get that story the old fashioned way. I looked at the evidence that was present. The man was laying on his stomach. Cause of death was blunt trauma to the head. There were no signs of breaking and entering. The rock had a missing alibi. But the most important detail? How worn down -- one might say eroded -- the rock had looked. It was disheveled and crooked around the edges.
Pointing my gun at the suspect, I yell.
"You're under arrest!"
The family looks at me like I'm crazy. However, the evidence never lies. The rock had done it, and I was going to take it down. The family tried to argue against the facts, but I showed them the folder of evidence I had. The photos of the scene, the written alibis of each suspect, and a writing of the story as I pieced it together. They shut their mouths, because they had nothing more to say. So I arrested the rock, threw it in the back of my car, and drove to the precinct. The papers beat the rock. | "Its got to be the pet rock," I said.
"Why the hell do you think its the pet rock?" Farmer asked, "It can't even move."
"But rocks like this one sure have their issues. I used to have one as a kid."
"I don't see how this is helping."
"It sure as heck helps. I actually forgot about my pet rock once. That mistake nearly cost me my life. Those rocks are nasty creatures."
"But rocks aren't sentient. They can't move. They just sit there. And do nothing."
"That's what they want you to think. When you least expect it," I clapped my hands together, "you've been bludgeoned to death by your rock."
"But if the rock hits you, wouldn't that hurt the rock?"
"No, their skin is solid stone. They feel no pain."
"I just can't deal with this right now."
Farmer walked out of the room closing the door behind him. I could hear him shouting that I was insane. But I never cared, all I wanted to do was get that rock in the slammer. I turned my attention to the rock which was staring dumbly. I knew what it was thinking. I knew what it wanted to do. It always put on that dumb face to fool people, but I knew the dark soul that each rock pet carried. I would do it, somehow. | 2017-02-24T09:00:01 | 2017-02-24T05:12:15 | 177 | 53 |
[WP] As a druid many expect you to be a tree hugging hippy, nobody is prepared when you say you're more of a hitman, turns out nature is quite ruthless, where plants will ask you to kill other plants so they can grow better or animals asking to hinder their enemies or lure in prey | "Listen, grass grows, birds fly, sun shines, and honey...I hurt people" he said proudly. The two figures sat across the table from one another. One an unruly, unkempt mess of limbs and branches and the other in a sleek dress of cloth tucked neatly so no corners were visible.
The woman across the table seemed skeptical though, her brows furrowed in more confusion than impress.
"Ah a skeptic eh? Not the first. Give me something to showcase on then, oh madam." the more rugged of the two mocked.
The woman reached under the table at his command and withdrew a small, stone-like creature, setting it down with a *plop*.
He stared down to the toad.
She stared up to him.
The toad on the table stared to nothing in particular.
And after a very long and awkward moment shared between the three the man spoke up. "Ya gotta be kidding right? Thats a Bumpy Ridgeback. You think I'd kill a thing of such beauty? No, give me a man or something- oh..., or woman, Hemlock doesn't discriminate. " he reached down and rubbed the toads bumpy back, to which it seemed to calm.
Across the table the woman was trying to find the words to say before finally landing on "Look, I just I don't believe you. You're a druid, it's not particularly in your nature to be an assassin, now is it?" Her eyes were steel in their gaze, set on their insult.
Slowly Hemlock rose from his chair, his green eyes growing wild like a summer storm. "Nature? Nature?! Let me teach you a lesson in the world lady." Hemlock rocketed up from his seat, sending his chair back to the ground. "Nature doesn't have feeling. Doesn't consider the others pain. Nature. Is. Ruthless."
The woman still seemed unimpressed, her face a block of unmoving ice which only further fueled Hemlocks spew of venom.
"You ever hear the voices of the trees? Oh they beg. Beg and beg for more, for higher, to steal as much of the sun as they can. And each individual tree would gladly blot that sun out if it meant they could grow larger. You? Me? We are merely future dirt. And that's the mentality I bring!" spittle flew from Hemlock's mouth as he ranted. A vein on his head popped loose like a river through the desert, running along just underneath his skin.
"You want a demonstration?! Fine. Watch on then, oh ignorant one."
With toad still in hand Hemlock stared his power into it. It did not struggle against his will, it just withered. Withered and decayed into his hands until its skin began to flake off like leaves from an autumn tree, until it was no more than a pile of nothing. It's bones fertilizer for the next thing to come.
Then, from that pile, bits of green sprouted up into life once again.
For the first time in their back and forth the woman across the table showed some impress, or maybe fear. Her eyes had visibly widened at the display. Never had she seen such death. Such a casual way to kill.
Hemlock leaned in close, placing a dirt filled hand on his future employers shoulder. With a whisper he continued, "I could do the same to you, to anyone. Your men...or rather your piles of dirt outside are proof enough that I am not a hitman. I am nature."
Once again the woman searched for the words to say, but had only couple worthy of a reply: "You- You're hired." | I truly take no pleasure in this turn of events dear adventurers, I have no desire to kill you, as the matter of fact I will not, no, it is not necessary, but you see, you are the living ... for now ... proof, that my forest is finally ready for me to leave.
Let me tell you, what is the role you currently play. The forests have changed with the advent of gamekeepers and hunters. Before them, a positive cycle of life and death was maintained, as forest spread, more prey could live in it, more prey allowed more predators to thrive, and their dead remains in turn soiled the ground, and on and on it went. But humans try to kill all the predators, they hunt them for trophies, they hunt them to make shepherds’ life easier, they break the balance, and in doing so slowly kill the forest. Deers and other prey overpopulates, they eat the grass and the sapling, trees stop growing, and insect have nowhere to breed and will not pollinate and don't get me started on the lumberjacks. No, I decided, that will not do.
I started small a dark groove in the middle of the forest, far from you, where only the strong or fast survive. But death of the weak serves as the fertile ground for the most delicious and aromatic herbs, which draws in prey as well as hunters. Weak and dimm die, strong get stronger, fast get faster, all survivors get smarter, on and on it goes.
Is it my fault, people who stumbled upon this groove are weak AND dimm? I knew sooner or later someone like you will be sent to find and defeat the 'evil' in the middle of the forest. Hence the second line of defence. Mushrooms.
Oh yes, animals are smart enough to shy away from the wonderful spores. Spores that slowly sapped your strength as you went looking for my garden. It was most interesting to watch, oh I was proud like any father could be.
But no need to worry about any of that, your story is done. It never actually was your story, you are merely a chapter of this forest’s story, … or maybe a footnote? Listen. ... Can you hear it? Defenders are approaching. They have been following you from the moment you entered the trees' shade and waited, see how smart they are? Isn't it wonderful?
I said my piece and will leave you now. Good bye adventurers, and let me one last time thank you for your role in helping the forest. I am truly grateful. | 2022-11-24T17:31:18 | 2022-11-24T14:15:17 | 188 | 61 |
[WP] Humanity meets an immortal being, who can answer any question, except for "Does God exist?". One day, the being is tricked into answering. | My first year of communication with Earth was nearing its end, thankfully.
“How many more of your species exist?” The speaker blared with yet another question.
“We do not count the individuals. We are all one.” Another unsatisfying answer for the humans but that is what they get for applying their logic to my species. They had been asking questions non-stop since I had arrived. It has been best to communicate through their electronics since a casual look at their history has shown them to be violent and unpredictable.
“But how do you have competing…” The humans question had been cut short. The crowd inside the transmission station had pushed him away. I had informed them they may ask any question but I would not answer them all. At first they simply shouted their questions over one another. They broadcast videos, radio, screamed into phone lines, spammed message boards. Anything to get their questions in electronic form hoping their question would be next.
“Do crabs think fish can fly?” The high pitched voice of the next human rang out in the nearly hollow space craft.
“No, crabs do not possess the capacity for abstract thinking.”
“Do any other species have abstract thinking?”
This human was lucky, she actually got a second question in. “None that are currently alive.” The human was ushered off stage as the answer rang out. Each person was allowed twenty seconds ask their question, a system that was put in place after the first month of chaos. The line of people waiting their turn was months long at this point.
“Does god have a plan for me?” Said a small voice. I gazed back at the video feed of the human asking this question, a young woman wearing a small gold cross.
“I cannot answer that.” No questions about the creator, that was the one rule. It did not stop them from trying.
An old man with thin rimmed glasses was next up. “Is it possible to travel faster than the speed of light?” I enjoyed the questions from the scientific community the most. They received the most thorough answers.
“You cannot move faster than light, but you may arrive at a location is less time than it takes light to travel there.”
“So worm hole travel is real?”
“Yes”
A small boy, no more than twelve year old stepped up next. I despised children and their asinine questions but if this is how the human wanted to waste my time then so be it.
“A-are you the smartest b-being?” He squeaked, stammering out his question.
“No” I leaned back and stared at the metallic roof of my craft.
“So could you make a math problem so hard that you could not solve it?”
That question sounded vaguely familiar. “I could not”
“But it is possible then?” I looked back toward the video feed. Why was he not being moved along, surely he was over his time limit.
“Yes it is possible”
“If no other creatures have abstract thought and you are smarter than humans then that implies that there is another being in this universe that is smarter than you.” He said with more confidence in his voice.
Why wasn’t the crowd stopping this boy?
“So then you’re implying that there is something greater than you. Something you would not consider alive in the typical sense. There is a creator.”
“I cannot answer that.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
| The trick to getting the right answers out of people is to ask the right questions.
The being had come out of nowhere, a massive body bigger than the sun it self, yet it didnt affect any thing on any physical level. the sun turned like it should and its light came to us just as before, except we could all see the massive being that no word could describe. it had no voice but everyone could hear it. it gave us four rules to follow, and one question to ask.
"You may not ask how the universe was create nor by whom"
this one made a lot of people disappointed, 5 billion religious people wanted to confirm that their god was real. but that was a no go. but this possibly ment there WAS such a being that created us and or the universe.
"You may not ask to find beings more advanced than yourselves''
we couldnt ask questions that would lead to civilisations with more advanced technology that would help us out. but yet again we could deduct that there was life other places than on earth.
"You may not ask questions that would protect,create, or destruct lives"
no cures for cancer, no world hunger solving and no ultimate solution to politics.
"you have exactly one year, to find the question."
as if it wasnt hard enough already, he gave us a timelimit.
The truth is we wanted to ask a lot of things, but our greed always made us disagree. the question had to be like the being, it had to not affect our world directly, and tell us something that we might be able to figure out on our own.
The best and brightest of humanity met up, and for nearly 12 months they discussed, before coming to the conclusion that every question of value we could ask, would ultimatly break one of the rules.
the scientists choose one that would ask the question, he was broadcasted all over the world.
He cleared his throat and and spoke.
"What are you?".
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thank you very much if you made it this far. i dont know if i hit any thing with this, i am very new to writing and English isnt my native language so apologies for the grammer and the simple language. | 2016-04-17T09:55:01 | 2016-04-17T08:57:51 | 510 | 53 |
[WP] "We have to leave him behind! He isn't going to make it!" ... that was 10 years ago. They didn't think you'd survive. You did. And now it's time they found out.
edit: Ohooo man :D So many stories! Can't wait to read them all. | My first ever attempt at any sort of creative writing, Please go easy on me:
Friday night pub night. That's the tradition, Well at least it always was the tradition.
Buck always ordered his pint of Guinness, he would always sit with his back to the picture of the dog and his owner. he would drink half his pint, go to the toilet, come back finish his pint and go for a smoke.
Pat was a wine man, Red by choice but every now and then strayed into a Sauvignon Blanc. He never really fit in with the concept of a lads night. however he was a laugh and a great wingman.
And finally Oliver. Oli for short. He was always my closest friend. If the other two never fancied a night out he would be there for me. Always me and him in the nightclub dancing like drunken idiots, Repellng every girl within a mile, but we didnt care, we were having a good time. I never thought he would leave me
Exactly 10 years ago he was the one who convinced the others to "Leave me behind". That night my world shattered. I was scared, petrified in fact, and thought oli would be the one to help me through it
I Couldn't have been more wrong
After a quick smoke i decided it was time to see them again, That's if they were even here.. I walked to the old fashioned wooden door with the big brass bar across and pushed it open.
Instantly piercing the sky was the recognisable laugh of Buck. That type of laugh that people would turn around to look at the person because no one could believe anything was that funny.
At that point Oli looked towards the door. his jaw dropped. "Neil!" he yelled in surprise. The others turned to look at me as well.
I walked over, wearing my best poker face, although it was great to see them again "Neil you old dog, Where have you been?" 10 years on and all i get is a "Where have you been"
"Excuse me, Where have i been?" I had planned this speech for years and now finally here i was about to reel it off "10 Years ago you left me, all of you left me. Oli you were my best friend and you convinced these two to leave me. That's not what mates do. Buck i couldn't believe how easily you were persuaded. Not even a second thought for me. And Pat. You laughed. How could you laugh as you were leaving me? I know we were never the closest of friends but i always thought you would be there for me"
"But Neil" Oli interrupted. "NO!" i yelled "You dont get to interrupt me, 10 years and not one of you have thought about me twice"
"Neil, Seriously" Oli tried once again to interrupt "Oli! Let me finish, I was scared in the dark and completely helpless and not one of you helped, Dont worry lads, Im not staying. I just had to say some things to you lads one last time"
I turned my back to them and began to head to the door. It felt good, A sense of achievement overcame me. Just as i pushed the door open Buck shouted
"Neil wait" i closed the door and turned to look at them again. they were all sat there, jaws wide open as if they were in shock
"Neil" Buck continued "We were playing laser tag, It was a joke" | I stood tall in the doorway, taller than the pencil line from my last birthday. I knew it wasn't the shoes, they did make me faster, but the height was all me.
They were all in the blanket fort we made before... before I... before THEY left me. I could hear the crunch of pizza crust, and see the flashing red light from the Nintendo on the floor. They must have bumped it. I was about to get to ganon. Did they save my game? How could they know to save, they were just kids.
I held my N strike Longshot CS-6, Loaded and ready. Hasbro made a good gun. I crept silently to across the rug, careful to not step on the lego pieces. I reach the entrance, and rip the door off the hinges like it was a bedsheet. They scream, and squeal as I pump round after round into their pajamas. The pajamas had feet that saved them from the lava, but they did not save them from me. Potato chips float in the air as if time stood still, paper plates that once held pizza fell to the ground. They all lay lifeless across the fort like the stuffed animals beside them. All but Ryan, Ryan who was supposed to be my partner, my allie.
"I saw you fall." he whimpered as he set his cup on the edge of the coffee table."You should be dead."
"I should be" my voice was gravel.
I tossed him the throw pillow that had fallen behind the couch. It was burned on one side, the tassels fused together, stuffing showed through scorch marks where the lava had seared the protective upholstery.
I held onto it all those years, "They needed proof." The burns on my hands had healed, and turned to scars, scars like the corners of my mouth from icee pops.
"5 seconds, they last for 5 seconds. Which was longer than you gave me." His face dropped, as I raised my rifle to his chest. A flash from the muzzle lit the fort for an instant as he fell. The impact shook the house and my innocence, his cup of soda wavered at the edge of the table before falling, Joining the lifeless footed pajamas on the floor.
That's gonna leave a stain. | 2015-05-24T08:58:27 | 2015-05-24T08:10:27 | 43 | 17 |
[WP] You set up a sign that says "LEAVE WALLET HERE", as a joke. Much to your surprise, people obey the sign. You wonder what else people would be willing to do.
Loving the stories guys; You're all awesome people, and you should feel awesome. | “Have you ever wondered if the Nazi’s were any worse than you and me? If we were told to commit a genocide, would we say no?”
That’s the question my professor had posed and the reason I was standing outside the Cinema 8 movie theatre sweating through my tuxedo. Introduction to Psychology was a joke of a class, touting a nearly impressive 23% attendance and 99% passing rate. I, however, was the 1%. After sleeping, avoiding, and texting through every class, I had managed to fail what some considered to be the easiest final ever given at the University of Minnesota.
In a desperate bid to pass, I asked my professor for extra credit and that’s when he pose the question. Apparently, a long time ago, some nutjob decided it’d be fun to test just how willing people were to listen to authority. They gave people a button and asked them to administer lethal amounts of electricity to someone else. And those fuckers did it! Nobody questioned it, they just dialed up the power and pressed the button when told to.
The idiots. That just went to show how backwards things used to be. Though I guess now it was my job to see if we still were idiots or as my professor liked to say, no better than the Nazi’s.
“Excuse me ma’am,” I said and stepped in front of a lady with her two kids. I motioned over to the sign besides me that read *Leave Wallet Here*. “New policy.”
“What?” the lady shot and brushed past me. “You’re lucky I don’t call the police,” she called after me.
“Enjoy the movie,” I muttered back. I wondered who the idiot really was, the people in the electroshock experiment, or me, standing here with a sign drawn by magic marker and a small wicker basket trying to rob everybody that passed me. I could imagine it already—headlines for the morning newspaper: boy arrested for dumbest crime ever conceived.
I sighed as a short and stocky man approached. “Excuse me, sir,” I called after him.
He took a lasting glance at the sign and then me. “Sorry,” he said and plopped his wallet into my basket.
For a second, I could only stare.
“Are we good?” the man asked.
I snapped out my daze. “Yeah, of course.”
The next lady I approached was halfway to calling the cops until she spotted a wallet already inside the basket. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small *O*. She threw her purse inside. The next man, I didn’t even need to say anything to. I gave him a single glance, a nod to the sign and he did as he was told to. Soon, I had an entire basket full of purses and wallets.
At last, my wicker basket could hold no more.
“What the hell,” I muttered. My professor had been right. We were no better than the Nazi’s. Anyone would do anything as long as a figure of authority told them to.
A smile touched my lips as I retrieved the magic marker pen from my pockets. With but a tux, a sign, and some marker, I could have anything I ever wanted.
---
**NORTH STAR TRIBUNE NEWSPAPER**
LOCAL IDIOT TRIES SLEEPING WITH WOMAN ARMED ONLY WITH A TUXEDO, A SIGN, AND A MAGIC MARKER
Sources indicate that an unnamed college student tried getting women to take their clothes off and sleep with him inside a movie theatre. He had a sign saying that all women were required to sleep with him. Eye witnesses claim that he was aghast when they refused and simply pointed to his sign over and over again, screaming about Nazi’s. He has since been admitted into Hopkins Hospital for psychiatric evaluations.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 5+ stories a week and 100+ already written! | I didn't expect people to actually leave their wallets there. I just wrote the sign and went to sleep on the sidewalk. By the time I woke up, there was an overflowing amount of wallets from random strangers. They seemed almost attracted as they would drop off their wallet and disappear. I removed the sign and almost immediately no one paid attention to me. *Interesting,* I thought.
After a hot meal from the local McDonalds, I began to count my cash. I also withdrew as much from the credit cards as I thought possible into my Bitcoin wallet. I began to stare at the sign I put up: it was a small whiteboard and black marker, all with a kickstand. I erased the message and rewrote another one: "Give me all of your cash." As I placed the whiteboard on the kickstand, people began coming up to me and dropping cash into my Big Mac container. "Hey," I pulled my Big Mac container away. People then just put the cash on the ground. I pulled out one of the wallets and replaced the message: "Put all your cash in this wallet." Soon even the cashiers began emptying out the registers and giving me cash. I was fucking rich. I walked out of the side entrance just as a man in a Rolls-Royce pulled up on the other curb. I began to scribble as I crossed the street. As the driver got out of the car, I flashed the whiteboard in front of him. Soon, I pullet out with a brand new Rolls-fucking-Royce.
The next few days were spent doing some of the dumbest shit I've ever done: causing fights in the middle of the street, getting hot women to undress in public, having jewellers just hand me free jewellery. It was truly a mess. I also tested what caused the epidemic. First I replaced the marker, and it failed miserably. Then I replaced the whiteboard and it also failed. Finally the kickstand didn't help the situation. It was a combination of all three that made it work.
However, the marker began to run dry. Panicking, I needed something that could ensure that I would never need to do anything in my lifetime. I began to plan how I would do this. I has someone set up the tripod and the lighting so I could record the video. I struggled to write down the words but as I finished, I turned them around and flashed the words. I uploaded the unedited video to YouTube. 1 view. *Refresh.* 3 views. *Refresh.* 8 views. *Refresh.* 30 views. The view count grew almost exponentially. I laughed almost maniacally as the video blew up.
And that's how I became ruler of the world.
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EDIT: Whoa. This blew up. Thanks everyone! | 2017-07-19T12:50:33 | 2017-07-19T12:38:51 | 3,088 | 1,090 |
[WP] Drunkenly, you accidentally pour vodka into your pet's water bowl. As a result, your pet breaks the number one rule: do not speak to your owner... Ever.
Did NOT expect this amount of replies. Thanks guys! It'll be an interesting read. | "*Fuuuuuck*, dude! We got some *kick* in the old H-to-the-2-to-the-O this morning! Mmm!"
Snuggles, my ten-year-old beagle, was stumbling around the kitchen, occasionally banging his snout into a cabinet. I rubbed my eyes and peered around the corner. Despite being house trained for nearly a decade, he was relieving himself on my tomato plant, murmuring to himself all the while.
"That's all it is, man. Just mix a little fresh chicken into the bowl every now and then. None of this balanced diet, freeze-dried, pansy-ass bullshit!"
He shook his leg and turned around to glare at me. "You hear that, Jeff? Let's switch up the menu!" With a gasp, he clamped his jaw shut and proceeded to flop on the ground, rolling around like a decidedly non-intoxicated puppy.
"I heard you, Snuggles," I groaned. "I hear what you're saying, and I..." I let out a shoddily concealed belch. "...I acknowledge your concerns."
"Wait...really?"
"Yeah. I know it's not always easy, but I'm doing my best, you know? I just...I just love you, man. You're all I have."
Snuggles sighed. "You know what, Jeff? I don't really know what's going on right now. I feel like I want to sleep forever, but I also want to hump the shit out of that squeaky toy over there. But I feel the love in this room right now. I love you, Jeff. Jeff da best."
He wandered over to me and curled up underneath my armpit, and we both passed out.
The next morning, I woke up to the sight of Snuggles dragging orange juice out of the refrigerator with his teeth. He grinned at me, then gestured with his head towards the fridge door, which now featured a note made from alphabet magnets. I'd bought far too many of them on Amazon during another solitary binge-drink fest. I read it as well as I could given the massive hangover.
*Jeff, we both fucked up.*
I raised my eyebrow. Snuggles groaned and rearranged the magnets with his paws.
*Have to leave. Broke rule.*
I shook my head and patted him. He narrowed his eyes.
*Must leave unless you promise*
He rearranged the magnets again.
*Not to tell.*
I grinned, then clutched my forehead. "I'm gonna say yes, but ask me again in, like, six hours."
He smirked.
*No one would believe you anyway, you drunk bastard.*
He poured me a glass of orange juice, gripping the handle with his teeth and spilling it everywhere. I laughed my ass off and hugged him tighter than I ever had.
***
/r/GigaWrites | "Cunt."
What?
"You heard me you fucking cunt. Where are my tasty Temptations?"
I couldn't believe it. Was it an acid flashback? Was I dreaming? Did I finally reach my drinking threshold? Boo couldn't have been talking to me. Nope. I ignored him and poured my delicious bowl of mult-grain Cheerios. Fridge. Milk. Spoon. Commence eating.
"Cunnnnnnnnnnnttt faceeeeeeee. Cunnnnnnttttt face. You gonna let a nigga starve while you eat that shitty fucking cereal? Where are my tasty Temptations you silly little faggot?"
Ok. This is real I thought. Boo could talk and he was the most foul mouthed individual I have ever met. I looked at the fat orange tabby and said, "Hey...Garfield....maybe you could, ya know, stand to lose a few pounds." He stared at me with a blank expression for a few seconds.
"Your mother is a whore and I'll rape you while you fucking sleep if you don't put some shit in my dish."
I had about enough. I threw my bowl of Cheerios against the wall. "BOO IF YOU DON'T SHUT THE FUCK UP I'M GONNA....." BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
Man my alarm clock was annoying and man that was a terrible dream. Boo was curled up between my legs looking peaceful as ever. I slowly patted his soft head while he purred like a well oiled machine. Damn was I hungry though. I got up and started walking down the hall and Boo feverishly followed. Mult-grain Cheerios. Fridge. Milk. Spoon.
"Cunt." | 2016-08-02T16:31:44 | 2016-08-02T16:15:33 | 897 | 501 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | A sardonic chuckle came from the open doorway behind me as Viper looked around the blood spattered living-room, "Boy, you've really done it now."
I wiped my hands clean on the curtains, cracking a few more ribs as I stepped onto and then over the chest of Lady Steel's dead husband, "I've done what? Steel has been getting on my nerves and I finally figured out her secret identity. Why not bring the pain?"
Viper kept his hands at his side, careful to not touch anything, stepping gingerly over broken glass while staring with amused disgust at Lady Steel's daughter, pinned to the wall with a shard of ice. "Listen, freeze-pop, or whatever you're calling yourself..."
"Deep Freeze."
"Sure, Deep Freeze-Pop. You just broke the number one rule of getting by in this business. Don't piss off the supes. Not in any way that they want real revenge. Someone like you, with cute little ice powers like yours... You knock over a few banks, maybe hold some people hostage, take your licks from whichever hero decides to respond, escape with a little extra cash, rinse and repeat." He waved his hand over the room like he was showing off the grand prize on a television show, "But this. Well, that's over for you now, buddy. The hero-villain ecosystem works because they need something to do with their power and their egos, and we give them that thing to do. Dispassionately. They don't care to hurt you, they just want to stop the villain and get the photoshoot. Nothing personal, ya know?"
I nodded, not entirely sure where he was going. Getting beat up and arrested by Lady Steel had always felt rather *personal. "*So what? Steel is going to break her own little *code* now? That seems pretty hypocritical."
The phone in the pocket of Lady Steel's husband began to vibrate, drawing Viper's eyes and my own. He stepped closer to me and a small smile played over the bits of his mouth that were visible, revealing a pair of unsettlingly sharp fangs. "The supes have always been hypocrites. The codes they have are easy to keep because they don't have much of a stake in the people we hurt. Sure, they feel bad about it, but they're still going home to the people they actually care about. But not Lady Steel."
A loud boom in the air above us drew my eyes out the window. Immediately as I turned, what felt like two needles entered my neck. My fingertips went immediately cold as Viper pulled his head back. Another boom tore through the sky. A sonic boom, closer. My body wouldn't respond to my commands, except for my eyes. Those I turned to Viper as he wrote something on a piece of paper and pinned it to my chest. He began to walk out the front door I'd left open before turning back, "You're not the first person to find out where Steel's family lives. Hell, most villains figure it out faster than you. That's why I was here, I'm supposed to keep an eye on this place to make sure no one fucks up the balance like you just did. Bad luck for both of us that my car makes such a warm place to sleep." Another smile passed his lips, "Before now, you were just another villain who had to be roughed up before Lady Steel could go home to a nice dinner with her loving husband and daughter. But now... well, you made it personal." He walked quickly into the sunshine and out of my view.
The terror in me grew as seconds passed and I remained still, unable to move. Then I heard the sound of two feet, rocketing into the ground and saw the first flutter of a cape past the window outside. | "Oh, you absolute imbecile, did you completely ignore my warning?"
Magno spun around to find an unexpected guest before him. An older man with half his face deformed stood across from him.
"What use is the warning of a dead man?" He eyed the stranger head to toe, as if to make sure it was the real person in front of him. "Well, forgotten at least."
"You think my symbol appeared in front of you by chance? Is that it? You really are an imbecile" the man hollered at Magno.
"Tell me, on top of being incapable of rational thought are you also illiterate? Have you ever even read about any other hero than the ones that appear on the news? Do you know nothing of their association?" The man snapped, his voice beginning to rise.
"I don't want to hear it from a man who was beaten by the hero of sector 3." Magno retorted.
The man laughed. "I'd have preferred that. No, no, I was done in by another imbecile like yourself."
Magno glared at the man before hastily grabbing him by the neck and lifting him into the air. "Look at you, old man, you're as good as dead anyway. Talk is all you have left." Magno threw him by the neck against the door, watching him fall like a ragdoll to the ground. "Pathetic. You couldn't even survive in the third strongest sector, you have no business telling me how to run the first."
"You think we leave the heroes families out of our business due to what? Stupidity? Kindness? Or did you not even get that far in your train of thought?" The man laughed again.
Magno began to head towards him for a second time, this time with intent to kill and be rid of the nuisance. He was stopped in his tracks, instead having his own throat choked despite seemingly nothing grabbing him.
The man stood to his feet, seeming much taller Magno despite being at least a full headlength shorter.
"You didn't even kill the right family. Now the number one hero is coming, and I don't mean the hero of this sector, and with him come those *things*!" The man screeched through his teeth, with no more hints of laughter in his voice.
"I will not be in the crossfire when they come again, I am not ready for them!" he shouted.
The man eyed Magno up and down. Magno's appendages began to deattatch themselves one by one from the rest of his body. Magno wanted to scream but nothing could come out, only his eyeballs would react to his commands.
"At least I have the fool who summoned them as bait this time." | 2020-07-12T12:38:13 | 2020-07-12T12:11:17 | 29 | 20 |
[WP] Everyone is gifted a skill by the gods, your skill is stealing, you can steal everything, you don't even need to touch it. You decided to use your skill for the amusement of others and made a show where you stole things in front of an crowed. One time someone requested you to steal their heart. | "Oh God! Oh God!" the woman shrieked, blood gushing out of her open chest cavity.
"Oh! Oh, no!" I said. "Sorry, sorry, sorry!"
Without thinking, I'd started awkwardly trying to stuff her heart back in. It wasn't a great move, but when you accidentally rip a woman's heart out of her chest cavity, adrenaline sort of kicks in, and you get going on instinct. I'd very nearly jammed into her exposed rib cage before I managed to stop myself.
There are experiences you can never expect to have. We like to imagine that we're prepared for everything; that, when the stress comes, we'll act with dignity and sensibility. But until it truly happens to us, we never know what we'd really do.
I realize that there are some who believe that I behaved badly on that fateful day. But I'd like to make it clear that I really, truly, did not intend any harm.
Trust me: I've heard every criticism you can imagine. When the woman was collapsing to her knees in a bloody heap, I heard it pointed out, for the first time, that I may have misunderstood her request.
"She was trying to flirt with you, you psychopath!" were, I believe, the exact words that her friend Sheila used, and I'd like to say: I get it. I totally get it.
Please understand that I thought something cute would happen, like she'd fall in love with me or a heart-shaped eraser would be in her pocket and it would come flying out and I'd say: "Your heart's mine now," and she'd flutter her eyes and we'd go on a date and her actual, biological heart would, at no point, tear through her chest, shattering several ribs along the way, and fly directly into my hand.
I'd also like to point out that I have sent Sheila flowers and an apology letter and that, at this point, I really don't know what else I can do to show that I am sorry.
Others have criticized me for dropping her heart on the ground, then cursing loudly and picking it up, and then having it squeeze out of my hands and go flying into the highway where, regrettably and due to circumstances entirely outside of my control, it was crushed by an eighteen-wheeler.
Here I would like to point out that hearts are *surprisingly* slippery.
I understand everybody's frustrations, and I appreciate all of the questions you have fielded my way. Many were asked to me that day, at that moment, and I regret that I was too flustered to answer them. I'd now like take the chance to answer some of the questions I heard most frequently:
**Q: "Oh God! What the hell? What in the living hell just happened?"**
*A: A woman's heart was accidentally removed from her body.*
**Q: "What in the hell is wrong with you?"**
*A: I have the ability to steal anything through thought. This was clearly explained at the beginning of my performance.*
**Q: "Did that monster just stomp on her heart?"**
*A: This was entirely accidental. Again, hearts are surprisingly slippery.*
**Q: "What god would allow you to live?"**
*A: I am Episcopalian, and so would answer along those lines.*
Again, please accept my sincere apologies for the inconvenience this caused.
Also, regarding the much-discussed incident in which I removed the heart from a second, older woman and tried to stuff if it into the chest of the one who - as I now realize - had already died, I would like to explain that I *really* thought that was going to work. | "So, you're the poor chap who's been caught up in all this? What is it this time..." The officer looked through his papers, "Murder. On stage. During an act?" His confusion came clearer with each word. "Perhaps you can shine some light for me. Start from the beginning."
The light on me was intense, but nothing compared to the pressure. I didn't want to say anything; I feared it would become worse. Yet, I'm already here. "Well it began when I discovered my skill."
"Teleportation of objects? Certainly nifty that's for sure, but hardly a way to kill so cleanly."
"No, I lied on the forms. My skill is similar, but distinct. Closer to 'Theft' if anything. By thinking the phrase 'I want to steal your' followed by something you own, it becomes mine." I sank into my chair, keeping my mind as blank as possible.
"Well, that changes things. Thank you for being so honest, it will help you in the long run." He scribbled something down in his notepad, "With this knowledge in mind, could you go through yesterday's events once more."
I sighed loudly, this has to be the tenth time I've done this. 'Oh well' I thought, no reason to stop now, "I was doing a simple 'magic' trick. People are always in awe when I steal their things. A wallet here, a phone there. It all goes back eventually, If I wanted to steal I wouldn't be so obvious."
"Of course, I understand." The officer muttered along as I spoke,
"Then came the odd question. One I'd never heard before." I gritted my teeth and looked down. "She said, clear as day, 'steal my heart' with no hesitation." The look on her face came back to me. "A single thought crossed my mind, that was all," I remembered the blood, everywhere.
"What thought?"
My hearing had gone, only imagining the screams once again. However, I knew what he had asked, "I thought 'Why would I want to steal your heart?' A reflexive action, I didn't mean it but my powers aren't controla--" It was silent. I opened my eyes.
A heart.
And blood, so much blood. Everything, the look on his face, the colour of his skin, and the lights fading from his eyes, all mirroring the night before.
There was no way I was walking free now. Maybe once, but no one would believe that I could kill twice by accident. I was left with only one choice.
I had to run. | 2020-08-21T13:29:19 | 2020-08-21T13:12:06 | 46 | 18 |
[WP] you wake up and realized you skipped a day, everything in your house is organized, since then you always switch bodies with this friendly entity that does your tasks for a day, until one day your windows are barricaded and theres blood on your hands and a note "You must hide" | Since I was very young, I learned to not talk about him. Everyone had imaginary friends, but at some point, you learn they’re supposed to be as real as Santa Claus or the tooth fairy. Most people grow out of it quite early, but I didn’t. I mean, what else could it be? How else would I explain things?
This friend of mine has always been with me, appearing from time to time. I’ve never seen him though, it doesn’t seem possible to. Once in a while I have a blank day, I wake up unable to remember the past day. Things get done, coworkers witness me at work, friends talk about it... and yet, to me, I skipped a day. I learned telling people about it will end in psychotherapy, so I just don’t. I don’t have many other friends, actually, so it’s nice to have someone looking after you. The rare notes we’ve left each other showed me he’s very sensitive to details, and quite short with words. He likes his privacy, and I’ve chosen to respect that.
But overall, he didn’t seem very “imaginary,” so I’ve since named him “friend,” “guardian,” or even “angel,” as these seemed more accurate.
My friend has always been very practical, always very concerned with cleaning and tidy rooms and laundry, which has led me to believe he’s gotten a germ phobia or some sort of mania. It doesn’t really bother me, I don’t mind having someone to help me with the house chores. So, we’ve had a neat relationship and everything has always been quite chill.
But it was dark. It didn’t look like my bedroom, though it was. My windows had been barricaded, and I would’ve thought it was night, if only there wasn’t a slim slant of sunlight, passing through the wood planks. I was tired and my limbs hurt. My hands were cold and wet, and they held a tiny piece of paper. I crawled towards the light. That was when I noticed the scarlet wine painting my palms and fingertips, as a shiver crawled down my spine. My thumb left a red mark on the paper. It only read one word.
*Hide.*
I heard a faint voice from outside. Two. They were discussing something. Quickly, I entered my closet and hid behind some suits, unsure of what to do. I wasn’t alone.
I couldn’t hear the voices anymore, probably because I closed the closet door. I instinctively reached for my pocket, looking for my phone, and grabbed something. When I looked at it, I realised it was a knife. My friend had left that for me, knowing I’d need it. I was grateful to have someone there for me. I wasn’t alone.
Stripped from communication, I looked around, searching for a solution, an escape, an answer. My gaze settled on a pair of white balls, dressed in a fancy suit like the ones hanging above, limbs laying in an uncomfortable position, frozen like a broken clock. Dead.
Why did he bother to spend time with my family? Why bother going to work? Why talk with my colleagues? Why so private? Why so social? Why so practical? Why clean the attic? The basement? The closet? Germs, it should have been germs. What else...
That blank stare.
I heard footsteps going up the stair. The voices, they came back, and became louder. Heavy footsteps. It crashed, mixed with glass. The noises outside, now clear, were words, radios, sirens. Finally, light, as I saw the cell open before me. | I am only awake half the time. No I dont mean that I sleep 12 hours a day smartass. I mean every other day I switch out. He calls himself Ra. I think its based off the egyptian myths. I cant really comunicate with him other then with notes. Most of those he simply ignores.
Ra prefers doing the things that loathe, which made it incredibly easy for me to go about our lives. He did cleaning, cooking, laundry and washing the dog.
We lived in a state of harmony for nearly 6 years before I noticed this weird pattern happening. I thought nothing of it at first. Ra made a squiggle on a piece of paper. It meant nothing to me, so I glanced at it and pondered it for the day before dismissing it.
The next week it was 2 squiggles. The week after 3. Always as close to Sunday/Monday as he can get.
After about 2 months of this, my curiousity got the best of me and I started to look up some guides on ancient and foreign languages...I got nothing. Again thinking nothing of it, I went back to my regular day. 4 hours of classes followed by 9 hours of graveyard work.
While not fun it paid the bills while I was in school.
I remember it really clearly. It was September 14. There was the blood moon the night prior. It wasnt my 'turn' though.
I awoke to my place barricaded. All the windows barred from all light, the doors had wooden boards across it, and dressers in front of them. On one wall not by any windows was all the individual scraps of paper. Flipped upside down. The first piece of paper was the last letter of the last word. All in a weird curved font.
"The Bloodmoon awakens them. They are hungry. I will deal with it tomorrow, stay alive until then."
I looked down at the ground under the note and saw what looked like a body...Wait. No. That's My Body!
I saw a crumpled up note in my hand. I took it slowly. In my own writing it said.
"I failed again, this time the otherworldly being actually took over my body. Seems humanity is screwed this time."
In my ear I heard Ra say
"Last Chance. Make. It. Count. Future Walker."
That's great...but I had no idea what the hell that meant....
What happened after this is a different story all together. Just no that I survived...sort of...I think.............Maybe??? | 2019-10-14T21:22:22 | 2019-10-14T21:10:09 | 40 | 17 |
[WP] When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the toss correctly, you are allowed to keep living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You've been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pretty pissed. | “Well look who’s back again, if it isn’t the luckiest man alive” Death says sarcastically as I approach the table.
“I really hope not” I reply as I pick up the coin.
“Come on now, most people are happy to get a second chance” Retorts Death with a laugh
“I was cool with the second chance, even the third, but this is getting ridiculous” I say as I flick the coin into the air one more time. I close my eyes as I hear the distinct ‘ping’ ‘ping’ ‘rattle’ of the coin settling down on the marble table. Death’s laugh is all I need to hear to know that I’ve lost once again.
“Look at that, it’s the luckiest day of your life again” Death says with a smile.
“You know the rules, pick a date”
“Do I really have to? Seriously, just let it end, I can’t do it again.” I plead.
“Not my choice mate” Death says sympathetically “even I have to follow the rules”
“Yeah, you’ve told me a thousand times” I angrily say
Death lets out a loud laugh as he says “more than that my friend, more than that”
“Fuck you. January 8th, 2012” I growl at him
“Are you sure you don’t want to go a little further back and try again?” Death asks, already knowing the answer.
“I figure there can’t be too many other ways I can try it at this point”
“You’d be surprised” Death says as he waves his hand past my face.
I wake up and look at the clock. 7:19am. Again. It’s always 7:19am. I fucking hate that time. I look over at my wife. I fucking hate my wife. I look at the picture of my family next to the night stand. I fucking hate my family. I don’t know this family nearly as well as some of the others, but I still fucking hate them. I fucking hate all of it. I fucking hate living. I’m ready to die and stay that way.
I reach over to the nightstand, pull out the 9mm, put in my mouth and pull the trigger.
“Well look who’s back again”
| "Call it" Death said, the coin twirling between his bony fingers.
"Do we really need to keep going through this charade?" I asked.
How long had it been now? 500 lives? The first time I went through, I expected reincarnation, but life... or I guess Death, was not so kind. I got to relive life from the point I chose... but with enough randomization that foreknowledge was all but useless. It got hard to keep track without the year changing like it should...
"Call it" he said again, tossing the coin into the air.
"Tails" I sigh.
We both look, and of course the coin falls down tails side up.
"Choose". Talkative as always.
"89" I reply. "I grow tired of our game".
5 minutes later I am awake. It was a lucky turn of events that I died peacefully in my sleep on the day of my 89th birthday.
"Call it".
"Sideways!'
A smirk forms on his face as he flips the coin.
...
...
"Call it".
This is Hell.
| 2016-09-23T11:33:36 | 2016-09-23T08:47:36 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] Genie: aah, that's... an unusual wish, are you sure?... I mean, it's doable but... you sure you don't want something else? Like richness, or eternal life? Cos this is going to... and all the paperwork. But ok, if that's your wish, well, your wish has been granted | "So you're wish is to willingly take the genie's place?"
I answered without hesitation. "Yep!"
The mysterious, otherworldly entity that claimed to be the genie's boss stood before me, giving me a variety of expressions to indicate his confusion. The creature held a terrifying appearance, a tall silhouette shrouded in darkness with the only visible things being his fanged mouth and large, blood-red eyes. However, despite this appearance, my utter excitement at the very thought of my wish coming true urged me to push through.
"Er...okay..." The entity flipped through a stack of paper. The length and width of each sheet were equivalent to those huge pieces of bristle-board you'd use for a presentation or something along those lines; speaking of presentations, that was definitely one thing I wasn't going to miss having to do. "Now, this is kind of a big wish, so I'll need to go over some questions and rules with you to make sure everything is in order..."
He stopped at a page, and proceeded to read through it. "Is this request free of outside influence and is your own decision?"
I nodded. "Yep. No one's forcing me."
"Alright. Is your request out of guilt from seeing your genie trapped in the lamp?" He questioned. "We've had a couple of people who wanted to switch places because of that."
"Nope." I answered.
"Okay...we can skip a couple questions, then..." The being turned another page. "Ah, here we are. What is your main reason for wishing to take your genie's place?"
"Because I'm TIRED." I complained. "I hate having to deal with people and life in general. I just want to relax in a genie lamp and only have to worry about dealing with people every once in awhile."
"Okay...well, if this is your desire then very well. You'll be protected under the recently implemented National Wish Union for all genies. Any wish-user that attempts something that is a infringement on your rights can and will be taken to court. However..." He flipped through another set of pages. "There are obvious rules. You cannot grant infinite wishes, additional wishes, a object that can grant them what they wish for, etc. They only receive three and that's it. Any attempt to give them infinite wishes will result in a ceasing of existence and your lamp will be confiscated as evidence. The only exception is if the wish-user finds a loophole. Then it will be brought to court and we'll see whether or not they can have what they asked for."
"In addition to this," He continued. "You are free to meddle with what they request and mess with it so they receive something different than what they wanted, but your creation must have some relation to their request. If it is something completely different and has no ties with said-request, then ceasing of existence will occur." He flipped another page. "Break hours will vary, depending on how long it takes for someone to find your lamp. If you beat the leading record of 15,000 years, you'll get a smiley-face sticker on your lamp. The inside of the lamp will be your place of residence, and you are free to customize it however you wish. Understood?"
I had kind of tuned out near the end of it, but I agreed anyways. "I understand."
"Okay...then I guess Jerry's out of work." The entity gave the former-genie a sympathetic look. "Sorry, man."
Jerry shrugged. "Eh, it was starting to get too cramped up in that lamp anyways."
The entity turned back to me. "Well congratulations, Miss Juniper. You are officially now a genie. You'll start work today."
I gave my new boss a thumbs-up. "Looking forward to it."
(The end :D) | 'Hey Genie, how long is this gonna take man.'
'Listen fool, by the time you leave this cave your wish would come into effect and even I will not be able to reverse the change so I beg you to change it.'
'This is the greatest wish Genie and I will go down in history. MUHAHAHAHHAHAHA.'
'Alright sir your wish has been granted, reluctantly of course. So you may now leave.'
I stayed back for a hot second to ensure I hadn't been tricked and moments later the Robin Williams in his voice started to fade away during his excaimation of resentment towards me and ever so slightly had begun to be replaced by an entracing dominant shrill. Simultaneously, his body twisted and contorted mangling upon itself before unraveling to show beautiful blue curves. 'YES!' I thought to myself and stormed out of the weathered depth. Once outside, I swam through the waterfall which hid this cave which was now filled with the wailing and curses of the Genie. I hadn't completely believed that he was Genie until the moment he transformed but I guess it didn't hurt to play it safe. Like a torpedo, I swam towards the boat and rushed to find my way out of this twisted forest towards Atlanta. I had to see this happen to a big city myself. 'Turn all humans to smoking hot females but let me remain as a dude.' I said to 'him'. The sun was creeping out over the horizon now and gentle orange gleamed on the shore. 'No time to gaze at sights.' I rushed to my Jeep and drove the rest of the way to Atlanta. If Genie hadn't taken up hipster clothing I would have believed him, it's his fault that he got dragged into this. By noon I reached a 7-11 and no one was there. 'Strange.' I whispered to myself. Guess no one would want to go outside now. As I toured the souless city, I could see the lights shining bright out of houses all over yet no one responded to my calls. I reached my hotel and stumbled inside feeling defeated as I hadn't been greeted by a receptionist. In the restaurant sipping a bottle of water, 'A HOT CHICK!' She turned to face me and I walked upto her ear and whispered 'You're looking at the last man on Earth babe.'
She laughed. The arrogance baffled me. She pulled me in and whispered back 'I'm lesbian.' Grossed I escape towards my room. Entering the elevator I see two girls making out. Must be my lucky day. I enter my room and peel back the curtains to peer at other houses with my binoculars. 'Cowabunga...' I murmured. ALL OF THEM WERE MAKING OUT WITH EACH OTHER. | 2018-08-05T08:35:37 | 2018-08-05T03:37:23 | 50 | 28 |
[WP] Tired of being trounced by overleveled heroes, the Evil Lord concocts a new plan - complete the townsfolks’ side quests before the heroes can. | As the town clock struck midnight, a black shadow swept over the bulletin board that stood in the center of town. By the time the clock had stopped, the shadow had disappeared ... along with all the papers that had been on the board before.
On a hill overlooking the town, the shadow paused, pushing the hood of her cloak back onto her shoulders. “Alright, let’s see what we have today,” she muttered to herself. “Collect 5 mushrooms for Carl, the innkeeper, from ... the shadow woods? Crap, those things are a pain to collect. I wonder if the cook has any in the cellar I can use. Think they need to be fresh?” This was directed to the man sitting next to her, known as the Evil Lord to the townsfolk. Depending on the day, she called him old man or Sam. So far they had managed to keep everyone from finding out that she was actually the “Evil Lord” in these parts, but that was partially because the so-called heroes were ridiculously overpowered from catering to the whims of the townsfolk and would immediately “conquer” Sam, declaring victory. Also partially because no one ever did their research and could never believe that she was a Lord, let alone evil.
Sam stared at her in response to her question. “Yeah, okay,” she sighed. “Stupid question. The heroes get overpowered by blindly doing these stupid quests not by being reasonable.” His low chuckle was more of a rumble. “What other quests did you get tonight?” he asked. She sighed again and continued through the stack of paper in her hand. “Maude has lost her cat again,” she groaned. “At least that one is fairly straightforward. Let me see,” her voice trailed off as she rifled through the papers. “Yep, here it is, Mike the dairy farmer is convinced there’s a black devil on his farm. Guess I should go get the demon cat and return him to Maude.”
“Did Jasper and Marie post again?” Sam asked in amusement. It was a running joke between the two of them: several weeks ago, Jasper started requesting that flowers be delivered to Marie. However, he had forgotten to specify that they were from him. In a delightful twist of fate, Marie actually was sweet on Jasper, but was too afraid to tell him. So she had started requesting that notes be delivered to Jasper ... unsigned of course.
The girl sighed in exasperation. “Of course they did,” she muttered. “You know what? I’m tired of blindly following these requests. We’ve been doing the same thing over and over, and YES I know that’s how the stupid heroes get strong but we could make a difference! And then maybe the requests would start getting more interesting. Tonight, Jasper and Marie will both sign their names. Maude is going to be informed that her cat isn’t missing, he just likes milk more than catching mice. Mike is getting glasses. And freakin’ Carl is going to learn to cook with dried mushrooms.” She stomped off down the hill on a mission, Sam chuckling behind her. | However then the Evil Lord realizes that he can just kill the townspeople and then there will be no quests. A second devious plan also begins to brew in the Lord's head. After all, the townspeople cant fight half as well a sthe party. An undead army marches into the city. The heroes stand to it, but the army walks by them and attacks quite literally everything else. The heroes hack and slash and hack and slash, but they realise it is futile. The undead stop caring about them. However by the time the heroes have shattered all the undead, the townspeople and their homes lay pillaged and plundered and killed.
Their supply of food is tiny now, and their debuffs of hunger start stacking, even though they already searched every house and ruin left. The heroes realise they wont last long at this rate and begin to panic. They try to get to the nearest farm, but find it burned to the ground. They then hear the Evil Lord cackling triumphantly, and warily look around. He seems to have come alone, except for a few grunts and a bodyguard. He orders his 4 or 5 undead to attack, while he concocts a spell. The heroes with their stacking debuffs take much more time than usual to defeat the undead. However by then, the Evil Lord has finished his spell and casts it upon them. No armor they are wearing can protect them from a simple sleep spell when they are so weak.
They find themselves stripped of all gear, in the middle of the village's ruins. They see a message floating in the sky, it reads :" JOIN ME OR YOU SHALL DIE". The heroes know they have no choice, and falsely join the Evil Lord's side. They realise it is actually fun and games being evil, and choose to stay there. After all, what friends do they have left in the standard world? They appreciate the kindness of the Evil Lord, and now wander the lands, occasionally attacking heroes with the Evil Lord as their foremost sorcerer and necromancer. | 2020-04-15T22:32:37 | 2020-04-15T20:35:57 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] Heaven and Hell are only so prevalent because they paid for Ad time. Tell me about one of the more obscure after-death locations. | “Where am I? What happened?”
“Welcome to the afterlife. I regret to inform you that you died. You need not regret it yourself, because death is just a stop on life’s journey.”
“Am I in Heaven then? Or Hell? Maybe Purgatory?”
“There are no such places. This is all there is, and everyone comes here. I am your counsellor. I will explain everything to you.”
“You said this is a stop on a journey? It sounds like there is reincarnation then.”
“Of course there is. Why would you live a life on Earth and then just spend the rest of eternity in one place? Let me explain. As soon as you are rested, we are going to spend as long as you like reviewing your recent life. The limitations you lived under, your accomplishments, your mistakes, how the loved ones you left behind are likely to fare.”
“That’ll be tough.”
“Perhaps. But I find most people are comforted by what they learn.”
“What comes after that?”
“Ah, then comes the fun part! You decide what you’d like to accomplish in your next life. You’ll find, after the understanding you will develop in our review, that you won’t want something like being rich, or a movie star, or an artist or such. But you will be an artist in how you will shape your new life.”
“But it sounds like I’ll have a wide choice of possibilities.”
“Oh, very wide! Not literally infinite, but so many choices that it might as well be. It will take us a good long while to go through the ‘menu’ of possibilities. I think you will find it fun. Then you will go into what we call the ‘Baby Pool’ to await an opening that perfectly suits your objectives.”
“So I can choose my gender, my race, my country?”
“No. You can choose your gender (from hundreds!), your species, your planet, and your galaxy. I did say it will be a wide range of possibilities.”
| "And here it is Mike! Whatcha think? I decorated it myself" Death said with a low but belly-filled chuckle.
"What the *Hell is this?? This is just... what? A 6 foot by 10 foot office space? What even is this decoration? It's just a picture of you holding a cat similar to those weird portraits back in the 18th century. This has to be a joke." Mike said impatiently as he stared Death in the eyes.
"I mean it's not like we could make any room for you. YOU asked if there was any other place. Plus man, you didn't really do much in your life. You just kinda did the same routine. Oh well man. It's what ya get." Said Death scooting Mike into his office.
"Well.. I guess it isn't too* bad.." as Mike played with the roll of tape and sticky notes in the office | 2017-03-06T10:24:14 | 2017-03-06T10:15:11 | 134 | 12 |
[WP] Your tech-illiterate grandmother somehow broke into a top-secret government database while trying to get "the Google".
Or any other mundane/misconstrued task related to computers. Have fun with this one. | "So, Grandma! Tell me stories from when you were my age!" I said, trying to act excited. She always told me the same three stories when I visited her, but it made her happy.
"Well, you see, Tom-"
She was cut off by the scream of a man who'd entered the wrong octave. Glass shattered, wood splintered and men in black armor surrounded us.
"Get on the ground!" they screamed, pointing guns at us. *This is it. Terrorists have come to kill us all.*
We were handcuffed and told to sit on a couch, then approached by a fairly handsome man in his thirties.
"Well," he said, standing in front of us, "you two are not what I expected to find here."
I was crying at that point, but grandma was....grandma.
"Would you like some tea, dear? Oh, my, it's been so long since I've had new visitors. Tommy, are these your friends?"
"No, ma'am. I'm with the FBI. We're here because somebody broke into our database, accessing very sensitive information about classified operations."
I was still crying, looking at him with bewilderment. "I'm just here to visit my grandma!"
He turned to her. "Well, ma'am? You know what we're talking about?"
"I'm afraid not, deary. Though today I did have a bit of trouble getting the Googles on my computer. I wanted to find recipes, but I can never find the damn Googles. Also, let me just say- it's nice that they let a colored man work for the FBI. I think society has come a long way."
He stared at her, squinting his eyes and glossing over the last bit. "The Googles? You mean Google, the search engine?"
"Yes, sweetie, I suppose so. I clicked on the colorful circle thingy, then tried to type 'thegoogles.com' but that didn't work, so I typed in 'fbi.com' and your website came up. I thought you might have the Googles on your page thingy- I mean, you guys are good at finding things, right? But no matter what I clicked on, I couldn't find it. Then something asked for my nickname and password, so I tried to log on a few times but I can never remember my password. I put the name '1234' and the password 'password' in like I'm supposed to, but it didn't work. So I tried 'Password' with a capital P, and then I found all kinds of really neat things, but no Googles and I gave up."
The man stared blankly at her, like she was some sort of alien. I butted in. "Please, she has no idea what she's doing. I had to teach her how to plug the computer in and push the on button. There's no malice here!"
His eyes remained fixated on her. "You're saying the password was 'Password' and the username was '1234'?"
"Yes, that's all I could remember. Are we in trouble, young man?"
He stood up, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, you're not. But there's a lazy network engineer that's going to have a nice vacation in Guantanamo Bay."
----
*thanks for reading! If you'd like to read more of my stories, check out /r/resonatingfury!* | Grandma was a nice woman, but she is so stupid when it comes to tech. I mean she calls Google "the Google" for fucks sake. One day she calls me over to her house, trying to get on "the Google". I get in her house, she serves me chocolate chip cookies(thankfully it didn't have rat turds this time), and we go to her upstairs bedroom that has her computer.
She tells me her problem, and I tell her "Look, just click this icon" as I click on Internet explorer. As the page loads, I tell her to type in the words "Google.com" in the search bar at the top of the screen. She nods and when it finally loads she types in the words "Google" but spells it "goooglee.coom". Not intentionally of course, she has really shaky hands and sometimes she accidentally presses certain keys on the keyboard.
What happens next is not what I expected. It had the words "TOP SECRET FILES: NO CITIZENS IS ALLOWED TO BE HERE. PLEASE LEAVE IF TOU DONT WANT TO GO TO GUANTANAMO BAY AND BE TORTURED FOR LIFE WITHOUT A TRIAL" at the top of the screen with a password screen on it. "What is this honey" grandma says as she adjusts her glasses. "It's nothing grandma, probably just a troll site" I say to her. "Troll? What is this troll nonsense?" She says, confused. I then explain to her that a troll is a person just trying to mess with you.
I tell her to type in the word Google again while I go to the bathroom. When I come back in, I see her confused. "I typed Google in the bar and I'm here now" she says as she scrolls down the page I see file links, each one different. Including, but not limited to: JFK assassination, Moon landing, holocaust fake, and Obama weather machine. "I knew Obama caused that storm two years ago" she says waving her hand in the air. "No grandma. Obama just so happened to be president at the tim-"I try to say before being cut off by her saying "No storms happened under George Bush".
I sigh at the thought, telling her to exit out of it. She does and tells me she'll do something about it later. She goes downstairs and turns on the television. I decide to just stay here awhile, hangout with grandma. How is this an interesting story? Cops arrested my grandma for illegal activity. | 2016-04-30T10:14:00 | 2016-04-30T07:59:47 | 1,462 | 14 |
[WP]The great library of Alexandria held perhaps the greatest collection of literary works in human history, but within its walls something was held that was so dangerous that, when discovered, Caesar, Aurelian, and Amr ibn al `Aas decided it was worth losing the endless knowledge to destroy it. | **Part 2 coming soon. Feel free to browse my other works while you wait at /r/leoduhvinci**
"What do you mean, there is no author?" Demanded Caesar, brandishing a fresh scroll above his head. Twenty soldiers flanked him as he cornered the librarian, a frail, thin man with an even thinner hairline. He leaned on a walking stick, one intricately carved like an elongated quill, and met Caesar's eye- an act Caesar himself was unaccustomed to.
"I mean what I said. You won't be finding the author of that scroll because there is none." The librarian said, his tone dismissive.
"You expect me to believe it wrote itself then? I know you're protecting him, give him up and his head will roll while yours remains intact."
"There is no protection here," Said the librarian, and sighed,"Despite your anger about what those words on the scroll say about your character, I cannot reveal the author. Because there is none. Because there are none. All the works here, well, they aren't written. They're discovered."
Caesar laughed, throwing his head backwards,"Please old man. I don't want to kill you. I'd like to spare your life. But I will have blood."
"If you don't believe me then I can show you." Said the man, "This is the grandest library in the world. Probably the grandest there will ever be. But the secret to it's greatness is not the scholars that have congregated to increase its works, but arther a lack thereof. This library is where knowledge comes together. Where it congeals into liquid form. And those words on that scroll- you despise them because you know them to be true."
"You dare affirm them then?"
"I don't even know what they are. But come, let me show you. Let me show you the truth."
The librarian began to walk, headand Caeser followed with his men. They dove into the library, past shelve piled high with scrolls and tablets, through mountains of manuscripts, and precious art- each piece containing some tid bit of information. The deeper the traveled, the darker the library became- the ceiling seemed to stretch higher until it disappeared into blackness, and the floor beneath them gave way from stone to dirt. Even the shelves wore away, and the piles became disorderly, strewn about as if ransacked or left out in a storm. With each step the librarian's cane tapped, and he soldiers behind Caesar jingled their armor.
"Here," Whispered the librarian, "Is where works come to be."
"Looks unremarkable to me," Said Caesar, "I see no pens scratching away."
"Oh, but they are." Said the librarian, "Here, this deep, the scrolls write themselves, as truths from the above world slip through the cracks and trickle down. This is where it all collects. All knowledge. Even the most darkest of secrets. Even yours."
"Don't make me laugh again old man," Said Caesar.
"This is no place for laughter," Said the librarian, "Now stand still. Let me get a good look at you."
For ten minutes the librarian studied Caesar, mumbling under his breath as he circled him. "Ah yes, the pride. Authority. Stature. Hmm, hmm, well then. Yes, that'll do."
The the librarian hurried to a pile of scrolls, seemingly no different from the others, and rooted through them, until he found the one he sought.
"This," Said the librarian,is yours Caesar. It holds your secrets, your weaknesses- it holds everything about you. Your greatest triumphs, and you worst sins."
He handed Caesar the scroll, and his he unfurled it, his eyebrows raising as he read each line. Halfway through the scroll he drew a sharp breath, and then his face began to turn red. Before finishing, he tore the scroll, ripping it in half, and stomped it beneath his feet.
"Destroyed then," He said, and the librarian shook his head.
"No, Caesar. It will regrow here, as the knowledge recrystallize. You cannot destroy the scroll."
"Outrageous! " Shouted Caesar" I cannot let such a lace stand. Someone with access here, who knew where to look, could-"
"Could destroy an empire," Finished the librarian.
""It must burn then," Whispered Caesar, and motioned to his guards. "Tomorrow I want this library gone. Burnt to the ground, with nothing to remain. Destroyed. Wiped from the earth and from memory."
"No!," Cried the librarian, flinging himself towards Caesar, but was caught by a guard and knocked to the ground.
"Yes," Said Caesar," Yes it shall be."
The librarian sobbed as they left, their footsteps echoing across the expanse. Then, as the sound of the retreating soldiers died away, he lifted a sleeve to his eye, and brushed away a fake tear.
And from beneath the hood of his robe,he smiled.
For he had other plans.
"Knowledge is power," He whispered, "And this power has been locked away here, caged, for far too long. Let it be free."
***
By Leo | **If you enjoyed this, check out my longer form writing at /r/JacksonWrites**
I raised the torch he'd grabbed earlier in the cavern, turning to my brother Everett, "This should be the place, shouldn't it?"
Everett took out his map, looking over the photocopy of the ancient text, matching their position on it with the satellite GPS. We had recently found evidence that the library was around sixty miles in the desert from where it was said to have stood, which meant that Alexandria might still live, and some of the knowledge preserved inside might be able to be freed.
Maybe it was the tales of adventure that my Dad had read to us as kids, but Everett and I had almost simultaneously mentioned that we should take a look at what was going on before we gave the information away. Neither of us had a chance to make a big discovery, and this was our chance to make THE discovery. Everett folded up the map and nodded, "This should be the place."
"Then where is it?" I waved the torch a few times, looking for cracks in the walls, but there didn't seem to be any, Everett was feeling them up.
"Did we miss something?" He asked, looking back down to the network of caves that we had weaved through to get here, "We," he paused, going to grab the map again, "this is the place."
"Well, this is where we are supposed to find Alexandria," I said, dropping my torch to the sand and pulling out my cell phone, "So where is she?"
"Probably on break," Everett said and I started to roll my eyes.
"Can we not do another one of your joke sessions right now?"
"I was trying to lighten the mood."
"The torch is fine for that."
"Oh so I can't make jokes but you can make puns."
"I was talking about the spirit of adventure, but sure, let's go with that."
Everett put his hands on the wall pressing hard against it, "Open Sesame!" He said while doing it. Despite his humor, the wall refused to budge.
"Well, I guess we move to plan B. I said, putting my backpack down and grabbing the small shovel that I have brought with me, "the bottom is sand, which means that she might be buried under here."
"And if she's not?"
"Then I just did a lot of digging for no reason."
There were three hours of digging before I found a small lever. I found it by almost breaking it with the end of my shovel, but I found it nonetheless. I waved my brother over, "Think this is it?"
"I mean, I don't think anybody else would bury something here."
"Right," I said pulling hard on it. I almost expected it to be stuck, but it moved as if it had been freshly oiled. I smiled, "some things need to go right on an adventure."
The cavern in front of us opened, and I stared ahead into the inky blackness. There seemed to be nothing until I noticed the light of my torch bouncing off something golden in the distance. I took a step forward.
"Watch for traps," Everett said, keeping pace with me.
"Yeah yeah, you're an asshole," I said as we got closer to the object, which was a railing to a half broken stairway that went further down into the darkness. We pressed onward down the marble steps, each one bringing us closer to the reality of the library of Alexandria.
"What do you think it is?" Everett said, looking down into the darkness, "The map says they buried it for a reason, why do you think?"
"Holy grail?"
"I doubt it."
There was a gleam below us, the shine of gold that we'd seen before. I redoubled my pace and Everett did the same, both moving faster than we should have down the broken stairs. I tripped first and he followed. My torch went flying off into some part of the library to be buried in the sand. It felt like we feel much longer than we should have.
I pulled my phone out, shaking it once to turn on the flashlight, there was nothing around me but sand, "Everett?" I called out, no answer.
I took steady steps forward, each one taking me further down into the pits of Alexandria, the simple stone hallway I entered seemed to be neverending. I kept my phone ahead of me, calling Everett's name every few paces. The only thing talking back to me were the echos.
| 2015-10-14T09:58:30 | 2015-10-14T09:45:22 | 437 | 60 |
[WP] Write a story about this pic that made the front page of reddit
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Lg5VR
artist name: Jinho Bae | "It matters little," said the monk without looking up from the uneaten bread and barley in the bowl before him. "He is dead."
The old man had returned from the yearly pilgrimage into the high mountains, and despite the fanfare which customarily greeted his return, he had remained morose and had withered without food. When pressed for explanation, his response was always the same.
"It matters little," said the monk. "He is dead."
To hear the monk speak repetition was nothing new, but replaced were the solemn hymns of humility or the boisterous rantings of exaltation. The only words which graced his weak lips...
"It matters little. He is dead."
The town matched the monk's melancholy, and soon the region felt the monk's depression. On the Sundays when the people would gather to hear the monks words, they would wait with patient excitement for the return of his exuberance, but instead he would stand before them with arms raised not towards Heaven nor to the mountain, but hanging by his sides with dejection.
"It matters little," said the monk. "He is dead."
After weeks, the quiet restlessness of the people at last brought action. They came to the monastery from the valley farms below and accumulated upon the mountain like flakes from the storm. First one fell to their knees in prayer, then another, and another, until every foot of monastic hill was covered in the prayers of the people. And the monk appeared. And he spoke.
"It matters little. He is dead."
But this time it was not enough. There rose a shout from the crowd. A demand. A call for an answer.
And thus spoke the monk:
*I came to the high valley of God, to bathe once more in his light. And where there once was the mightiest of kings was only the remains of what was. Thrust through the heart of God was a sword. His own sword. The sword of justice which he promised to swiftly bring was brought not upon the evil heart of this world, but upon his own breast. The king of kings, the lord of all, the God with whom we hold covenant has fallen upon his own sword and claimed justice upon himself.*
There was a moment of silence from the shocked crowd before a voice called out. "What do we do now?"
"It matters little," said the monk. "He is dead." | An old man travels the road once a year with his faithful travel companion. It's a long and hard journey. As the years go by the travel has become more difficult and takes twice as long as it did when he was a man of twenty.
The man takes a long hard look at his long ago triumph. He turns to his old friend the dog by his side, for the last twelve journeys "No one believed I could do it, you know." He waits for the dogs gaze to turn to the remains before continuing.
"Hell even I had my doubts." The old man knows this may be the last journey he takes in his long life. Every year for sixty years he's travel to this spot. To gaze up at his prize. He morns what the beast took from him those sixty year wounds still unhealed. He never remarried or had another son to bear his name.
He lived his long life as the beast slayer. He killed the last giant living. Most think it myth that they ever lived in the first place. Folk tales and fairy talk. Only the old know the truth. The old man sheds the last tear before slowly walking away. "Come now Sledge. There is is a long walk home for us yet."
Edit it to fix a few of the things you guy mentioned! | 2017-11-29T21:35:59 | 2017-11-29T20:24:45 | 3,087 | 46 |
[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. | Have been reading WP for a while. This is my first attempt at writing something for here. Feel free to critique as it is the only way I will improve.
--------
"It's what" the alien said surprised
"It's the most recent image taken of a Black Hole" the astronomer replied.
"How did you get this, Our best scientists have theorised that a large enough star could collapse into a singularity and have produced images like this but it is only a theory. We have never been able locate one"
"How were you looking" The scientist asked.
"We were using extremely fine gravitational detectors and the most advanced x ray sensors that we have developed looking for holes in space and the background radiation but have never located any. How did you locate them"
"A scientist by the name of Stephen Hawking theorised that due to the nature of the way black holes interact with virtual particles that pop into existence and then disappear they can actually emit radiation , Once we started looking we discovered them everywhere we look. Nearly every galaxy has a super massive black hole in the center of it. This galaxy for example has a black hole larger than this solar system. "
"How do you know that" The alien asked astonished.
"Well, We know the Black hole was there and there are stars orbiting it. We were able to image those stars and map their orbits and using orbital mechanics were able to calculate the mass of the Black Hole they were orbiting" the scientist replied.
The alien looked at the scientist astonished. "I need to bring this information back home immediately that humanity have discovered how to detect black holes. Over the centuries we have lost many ships and have never had an answer as to why. This may just have solved some of those mysteries"
"Who knows what else you may have discovered" the alien said
"Do you know about gravity waves caused by two black holes merging"
"They can do what" the alien said in shock.
"Wait till i tell you about LIGO" the scientist said with a smile.
----
[Where I got the information RE Hawking](https://www.space.com/39988-black-hole-mysteries-stephen-hawking.html) | "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.
&#x200B;
//I'm a beginner writer, any feedback is appreciated | 2021-12-24T04:49:03 | 2021-12-24T02:44:09 | 564 | 405 |
[WP] You just let a hungry-looking couple into your home to feed them. As you go to turn off the TV, you hear, “under no circumstances should you answer the door today. They are not what they seem. And whatever you do, don’t let them inside...” | I set the hungry couple down in my den and hurried to my kitchen. It had been a very long time indeed since unexpected guests had arrived, and it mattered not to me that I didn't even know their names. I began drawing the water for a proper tea and leaned over to turn off the telly. Fingers on the button, and I heard, "Under no circumstances should you answer the door today. They are not what they seem. And whatever you do, don't let them inside..." I pause, my heart fluttering in my chest, before finishing my push. I am old, and I remember when things were... other than they are now. Children bustling in and out of the house, their friends and their friends families coming over for dinner on the weekends, my old pal hurrying off to work in the wee early mornings and coming home long after the sun had set. I shook my head - I didn't know these strangers, me, who never knew a stranger in her youth!, I didn't know them, but I was raised to feed the ones who were hungry, and water them too, so with a stubborn lift of my jaw, I continued my preparations. Were this my last tea I ever served, it would be the loveliest tea as well.
There wasn't much I could do about the sandwiches, of course. As an old pensioner, I am only afforded so much, and - compared to my old life - not much of that much would I consider luxuries. The bread slices were paper thin, and the cucumber a little wrinkled; a slice of egg instead of a whole egg apiece. I rummaged in my cupboard to find the last hint of preserves I'd left over, a reminder of happier days spent in my garden under the bright sunlight. Only a dab apiece - I let myself suck the spoon before placing the empty jar by the sink. It wouldn't do to put it in the rubbish before cleaning it; it wouldn't do at all. A thin bit of watered down milk to accompany the tea, the days of full, thick cream long past. Perhaps the fare was plain; but I made certain to pull down the finest china I had remaining from the days before to serve.
As I slowly tottered into the den, the man leapt up from his seat and insisted on collecting the tray for me. He exchanged looks with the woman, and they both said thank you, which was exactly the sort of response one might hope for when one has made tea at my age. There was not much more noise than polite chewing and drinking for a bit after that, and I nibbled on my own little sandwich as slowly as possible. How I had forgotten how pleasant it was to be in the company of other people for more than the weekly line! In short order, the tea was dispatched, and the couple exchanged shy glances before the woman spoke.
In pleasant tones, she asked, "Grantha, we... we haven't any money to repay you for your kindness, but..." Momentarily she trailed off, before starting again, a hard, eager light in her eyes. "Grantha, you risked much to allow us in and feed us. We have but one way to repay you, if you are willing to accept. We are Singers."
Singers! Actual singers! My eyes, I am sure, were wide with anticipation. It had been so very, very long since I last heard music. In stillness, in quiet, we crept about our daily tasks these days. Even children had been taken for singing or humming or noise making that wasn't in explicit praise of the powers in charge. My heart pounding, I nodded, excitement building in my very veins. I held up my fingers, little space between them. Quiet they must remain, or they would be found - but oh, please, to hear music just one last time!
Exchanging another glance, they nodded, and began singing a quiet tune. A haunting tune that spoke of better days. The most beautiful tune my two ears ever heard - I had silent tears running down my face. As they finished, I stood up, beckoning them to follow. Pointing at the dresser, I make a shooing motion. The man steps forward to move the dresser, exposing a tiny door. I hope they understand - I hope they make it. That tiny door leads to the outside, where they might - having had refreshments for the spirit and body - make it to a better place, where raised voices and glorious singing (singing!) are the normal, rather than the hidden and the punished. As they begin to climb through the door, I open my mouth. I show them the stub of my own tongue, removed so long ago. I show them the scar. I will be silent now, quiet as a mouse - I have no choice. Empathy fills their eyes and they begin to speak, but with a hammering at the front door, they exchange glances once more and flee.
I smile. Let them come. Were this my last tea I ever served, it had been the loveliest tea as well. | "Where is the sugar?"
My heart jumped from the couch and landed somewhere distant on the carpet. A curse to god sneaked past as I straightened myself. The man gleaned at me from the kitchen.
"What?" I asked.
"The sugar? Claire hasn't had it in a long time. Was wondering if you had some."
"Top, left most cupboard. I think it's on the right." I started breathing heavy. He didn't seem to mind. The man simply nodded a gentle, homeless smile and dragged himself away.
I had resigned myself at this point to getting these people out of my house. That news report, it had chilled me to the core for some reason. But they were so nice, they seemed so genuine and in need.
But they had to go. For some reason, the thought had made its way into my head that this should be a covert operation. In preparation I rose from my couch and snuck to my kitchen, pasting myself to the walls with glue. I heard them speak.
"He's quite nice." The woman spoke in a muffled voice, the sound of chewing commencing.
"I know, quite the shame." It was like my heart was riled with a bout of tourettes, it flopped its way to the sky again.
"Do we really have to?" She continued, the smacking of her lips grew.
"I mean, it'd be the polite thing to do."
*Polite thing to do?* Murder me in the sanctity of my own home? Their shadows cascaded into my dining room. Yes, MY dining room. I could see the large, sharp utensils stocked in their hands.
"Get out! I swear! Get out of my house!" I jumped into the kitchen, careful to grab the ladle on the counter top. I wielded it like my very own Excalibur, ready to strike down these would be assalients.
The man, and woman both, stared at me in confusion. The butter on their butcher and carving knife slid off. The bagels in their hands seemed to freeze with their expression.
They spoke first.
"What are you doing?" The man asked, dropping the knife to his side.
"What are *you* doing?" I retorted, bringing the ladle to a hold. It shook violently.
"Eating? Isn't that what you invited us in for?"
"I..." I trailed off.
"John I'm scared."
"What's gotten into you man? Why are you swinging a ladle at us?"
"Why do you have have those knives? For buttering a bagel? I think not!" I asked, I felt like I had gotten them. Secured in my victory I tightened on my weapon and my knees got a bit wibbly.
"The rest are dirty. Look." He pointed the knife at my dishwasher, where most of my butter knives sat like little school children, huddled together. "If you want us to leave, we can."
"I-I... I'm sorry."
"Save it." He placed the knife on the counter, raised his hands up like a criminal, just to make me feel that extra pang of guilt. The woman thanked me though, and joined her partner, bagels in tow.
I walked with them to the door and ushered them out, wishing them the best. I turned around, content as the news feed in the living room trailed on.
I never even felt the carving knife pass through the throat. The spurt of thick, red liquid tasted like a dense metallic soup. It sopped into my hands as I felt the pointy object dance and carve. As I collapsed to the floor I listened to the quaint, but proud field reporter spout on.
"The bagel bandits are known to have committed thirteen acts of homicide in the last week, and are still at large... We recommend to not open your door to any suspicious looking couples. No matter how desperate they seem." | 2018-03-14T11:17:41 | 2018-03-14T08:12:12 | 113 | 18 |
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