prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] It was only after they invaded that the aliens realized, to their horror, that humans had superior technology in all things, except inter-planetary spaceflight. | "When we first visited the planet, we saw how silent it was. The inhabitants communicated through speech and actions, but were often silent, contemplative, staring into devices.
"They communicated via waves and digital methods. Images, and spoken communications. We easily interpreted them, but found nothing of value.
"The technology orbiting their planet had markings on them, common symbols of their allegiance. Seeing these markings symbolizing allegiance is always a good sign of quick conquest; tribalism and schism in a planet always made for short and bloody work.
"We are born into a loud world, a world of action. Our people learn at an early age how to speak and interpret actions. We learn everything from our elders, watching them, memorizing their instructions and speeches, movements and exercises repeated until perfected.
"This world had speech and had instructional institutions, but there was little memorization from what we saw. In fact, we saw that their instructors would prattle on, while students did little to engage. They just sat in contemplation, silent, engrossed in their devices.
"The planet had not achieved inter-planetary spaceflight yet. No wonder. On our world, we have institutions where the young build the creations of old, the creations of new, thousands, millions of generations building technology on each other. Our best knew how to design the simplest gliding vehicle, component to component, from scratch, as well as our engine of interplanetary travel. We are a fiercely learned society, rote and repetition, discipline, practice has made us each great.
"We took over their method of video and audio communications first. How could anybody fight us without the communication? Without commands? Without visuals? This planet had no telepathic ability. This divided, tribal, silent and contemplative planet would fall in no time against our coordinated brutal attack.
"We projected our message to them on all video and audio channels. We were coming, they had no hope to survive, surrender now. Over and over, repeated, so that they would learn. The only image they could hope to see on their devices was our own symbol of planetary conquest.
"But when we came, they were prepared. The tribes had banded together. How they had known to do so? A mystery! They knew our positions. But we had destroyed any method of them being able to send an image of our position! Or to verbally advise each other of our position! A series of explosive projectiles took out my squadron that hovered over a vast body of water. But there was no way this planet - this non-telepathic planet - could have communicated our position! We obscured all visual and aural technology, but somehow they knew!
"Somebody suggested it was the symbols. The hashes and circles. That the intense tribal iconography was actually a form of communication. We dismissed it, and I suppose that it does not matter. I cannot contemplate how a being is supposed to learn each individual symbol and formulate such complex communications with it. Pictures, I could understand -- Pictography of mountains! Water! Birds!
"But hashes, cross-hatches, scribbles? What sort of technology was that?
"Now I will repeat this exact screed seven more times, younglings. You will be expected to repeat this word for word back to me by the end of the day." | We first detected them after a great mass of energy was released on their planet, it was logged as a new species developing space flight and set to be investigated when they made regular journeys around their own solar system.
They didn't progress as expected so a scout team was sent to investigate, the last messaged received was "warning hostile indigenous life forms, local area known as Roswell, hard landing imminent".
Plans were set to invade, it took only 3 year cycles on Glargth before we left, destination: Earth. In the time where the invasion was planned a space ship was seen leaving the planet, reaching it's local moon.
I was given the honour of leading the invasion with a type 6 semi-permanent base ship, I was to land it, set up the forward base, have my team set up defences, and collect as much info as we safely could and everything went without a hitch, we landed, set up the base, built the defences, it was a strange planet, day cycles seemed to be seconds compared to back home, the weather was near unpredictable and the gravity was overly heavy.
Not long after we landed the team I set to find out as much info as they could captured one of the indigenous species seemingly capable of higher reason, I felt the need to show him the level of danger his species was in, I loaded my best weapon, a gunpowder propelled rifle, it could fire a metal ball 50m easy, with accuracy of only 5m of where it was pointed at full range.
I took him to a firing range we had set up and shown him first the guards weapons, the standard issue weapon of the military, he looked confused, I wish I spoke the language so I could truly gauge his fear.
Then I took out my rifle, aimed, fired one of the best shots of my life, near bullseye on the 25m distance range on the smaller target size of 3m across. I was smiling, my pride at the shot must have been evident to even the primitive creature, but then I heard it...he was making a noise...it almost sounded like, laughter.
| 2014-10-17T10:26:00 | 2014-10-17T10:09:09 | 142 | 94 |
[WP] After superpowers start appearing around the world, businesses realize the use of these abilities. People with x ray vision are practically forced into being doctors and people with heat vision work as cooks. You are starting to get tired of your superpower-based job. | "At 2:47 this afternoon, a super-strength unit at the worksite for the new bridge will attempt suicide. He's worked 16 hour days for two straight months, and no one cares. He has a Masters in Biology and he is made to carry I-beams endlessly."
"Keep it short, Mr. Major." A curt reply came.
I scowled his way. "I will continue to give context until you either listen, or find someone whose precognition extends further than mine." I handle an entire city on my own, no way they hassle me on this.
"Whatever. Continue."
I grumbled. "At 3:31 pm, a psychic unit being used for mind control will be beaten by a superior for selling a television too cheaply. They charged 250% retail. If not prevented the unit will release a wave of energy while defending themselves, causing 3 comas and the brain death of their attacker."
"We'll get a team out there to restrain the unit."
"What about their assailant?"
"Continue."
"What about their assailant?"
"Nothing will have happened."
"Son of a-"
"CONTINUE, Precog Unit!"
I took a deep breath. "At 1:46, a precognition unit will kill his Responding Action overseer and escape the precinct. He makes a clean getaway because, of course, he sees everything coming."
"What? But you're the only-" He looked up, into the barrel of the gun I had managed to acquire and smuggle in. They always assumed seeing the myriad ways things can go wrong would dissuade a Precog from taking risks. I had waited long enough to find a solution.
"I'm so tired of snitching on my fellow supers...of calling out you norms and seeing nothing done to THEM. I hereby tender my resignation." I flipped the safety off.
He stammered. "W-wait! Your prediction can't work! You said 1:46! It's already 1:49!"
"Huh...guess I should have mentioned I was using your watch for that particular prediction."
He looked down...1:45:55...56...57...
"...It's a little slow."
**BANG**
Edit: Punctuation fix. Also, thanks for the many kind words. Part 2 will come as soon as I can get to a real keyboard. Mobile is hard to work with. | Another day, another dollar. You know, when I got my super powers I thought "damn! I've got it made!" I was wrong. Very wrong.
So some folk can fly or run fast or teleport and those guys are messengers now or transporters or spies or whatever. Superstrong dudes work in construction and shipping. Psychic folk work in wellness and detective agencies.
Lots of mundane ordinary powers like that get the big bucks but dumbasses like me with probably the best super power work the lamest jobs.
Funny how that works. Its these menial low level powers that are best suited for the work force. Xray vision gets you a medical gig. Heat vision fers you a kitchen job or in metalworks. Meanwhile people with the ability to walk through walls are friggin locksmiths.
And as for me, well, I'm a dummy. No really. I am a crash test dummy. Why? Because I can friggin regenerate. What better way to see if your new car can kill someone by trying it out on a dude you can kill again and again?
I also do freelance stunt jobs on the side. Pays poorly but hey, I get to be in movies. Mostly just to get shot, blown up, stabbed, runover or pushed off of tall buildings but hey. No complaints. | 2020-02-05T17:14:17 | 2020-02-05T13:20:24 | 1,962 | 690 |
[WP] Your daughter has been begging you for a pony, and you told her to write a letter to Santa. On Christmas morning, you find a fire-breathing horse in your front yard, and a package by your front door. Looks like she wrote a letter to Satan, and he delivered.
Whoa. This blew up way more than I expected it to.
Edit: Like... A lot more. Thanks guys. | "I was late, and it could fly."
I shifted nervously in my seat and reached for a glass of water that I had already drained.
The team from HR didn't respond right away, so I had time to fill my glass and drink again before I went on.
"I realize that's not a great excuse for why there's a fire-breathing Nightmare Pony parked in my space, but my car broke down, I had a really important meeting, and well...Mister Pibbles was all I could think of."
The HR lady found her voice. "Mister Pibbles? You call it Mister Pibbles?"
"Actually, my daughter named him. He was kind of a Christmas present. It's really kind of a funny story, although maybe not in this room, at this particular..."
"Is it dangerous?"
"Oh god yes," I answered before I really had time to think. Then I had to try and backtrack. "I mean, he's always potentially dangerous, but so are big dogs, right? He wouldn't hurt family, and he shouldn't be a danger to random strangers as long as he's got his soul bag on..."
I kind of trailed off at that point, worried that some bright spark in the HR department would ask me how I manage to fill a pony-sized feed bag full of human souls.
Fortunately, no one did.
"I'm really sorry about this, but can I just take him home?"
The big boss spoke up, trying to maintain an air of authority, as his personal view of the universe crumbled quietly around him.
"I'm about this close to calling the police, or locking that thing up where it can't hurt anybody."
I shook my head. "Bad idea. Very bad idea. Please do not interact with Mister Pibbles. Don't pet him, don't move him, and whatever you do, don't ASK HIM for anything! In fact, it's best if you don't wish for anything really specific when you're close to him. If he's feeling playful he might try to get it for you and we really do not want a repeat of the birthday kitten situation."
"How did you end up with this creature in the first place?"
"Reading may be fundamental, sir, but proper spelling can save your soul." | It was at this moment I realized that my daughter was dyslexic. As I slowly backed up into the threshold of my house, I calmly but clearly said "OK Google, what is Satan's return policy?" Without hesitation, my phone began to play the particularly annoying fiddle solo portion of "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" and as I gazed at the majestic beast in my yard charring my perfectly manicured St. Augustine grass, I suddenly wished I was Jewish.
My stomach quickly turned as I caught a whiff of the roasting dog poop my daughter had promised me she picked up from the front yard. I retreated into the house, grabbed supplies from the coat closet and kitchen, and headed back outside dragging my daughter behind me. After calling Satan's steed over from the poop zone, I turned to my daughter and gave her some advice she could use for the rest of her life. I straightened two clothes hangers, placed marshmallows on each, and softly whispered to my daughter "Sweetie, when life gives you a fire breathing pony from Satan, you make s'mores." | 2017-09-25T18:40:35 | 2017-09-25T18:01:53 | 40 | 12 |
[WP] In the far future, you are a soldier invading the British isles. As you and your section begins to cross a tiny creek in a forest, a figure stands before you. It is the Black Knight, his amputated arms and legs replaced with bionic ones, and under no circumstances is he letting you pass. | The last knight
“Halt there good sirs!” A hearty, powerful voice calls out. Instinctively the five men alongside me raise their rifles at the man who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere on the other side of the creek we had been approaching.
The man looked to be dressed as a knight. He wore a black surcoat with a red beast of some sort on it. In his hands was a large two handed sword. “What business have you here?” The man asked, not moving an inch.
I tossed a look back to my corporal and he shrugged in a non committal way. “Step aside citizen, we don’t wish to hurt you.” I ordered, raising my rifle as well. “I cannot, for I am sworn to the Baron of these lands to guard his borders.” The knight said. I sighed in exasperation. “You are confronting five men armed with rifles with a sword and chain mail. The odds are against you in every conceivable way. Step aside.” I ordered again, flicking the safety off on my rifle. “On the contrary good sirs the odds are with me, for the last man to face me down was King Arthur himself. Sadly, he killed me. But I lived!” The knight said.
“What!” I almost yelled. I made a quick hand motion and one of the men behind me moved towards the knight from one side while another did the same from the opposite side. “Drop the sword.” I commanded. One of the men approaching him grabbed his arm.
The knight moved with impossible speed, picking up the man with one hand and crushing his neck. I now noticed that what I had thought was chain mail was in fact impossibly advanced robotics. I shot almost ten times at him, each round finding its mark. The knight paid no mind as he whipped around and slashed the other man approaching him from shoulder to hip with his sword.
The rest of my unit spread out, firing as fast as we could at him. He cut us down one by one and finally rushed at me. I drew a solid steel baton from my side and held it up in a vain attempt to stop his sword. He slashed through it with ease and I tried to spin away and bring up my rifle but I felt a hard pinch on my arm and found myself looking up at the overcast sky.
The knight approached, whistling a merry tune as I looked over at where my arm had been. Blood flowed freely from the gaping wound but there was hardly any pain. I looked up at him in terror. “What’s the matter good sir? ‘Tis only a flesh wound.” He said, hovering the point of his sword over my face. My vision blurred as I lost blood. “A shame really. It took much more to stop me.” He said, bringing the sword down. My vision flashed and went black. | The man in medieval looking armor brandished his laser sword, daring you to take even a step forward.
With a frown, you take out your blaster rifle and fire three shots at the enemy before you. They hit him squarely on the chest, through the heart, and out his back.
The man look at his chest, then bellowed a war cry.
"Rrraggh!" Shouted the man who should have been dead, flaming laser sword swinging madly in the air.
You yelp, barely dodging the first strike.
"You should be dead!" You shout.
"'Tis but a scratch!"
"A scratch, you have a hole where your heart is supposed to be!"
"You sound just like that man who escaped my wrath centuries ago! Take this!"
You dodge the second strike, shooting two blaster rounds in return. They hit him in the arms, his robotic parts flying everywhere.
"You can't fight now," You say, just before the black knight launched himself at you with a flying kick. You stumbled onto the ground, rolling away just before the knight could stomp your head with his foot.
Angry now, you take a plasma grenade from your pocket and leaped at the knight, meeting him halfway up the air. You both tumbled into the ground, but having hands to prop yourself up with, you were quicker on your feet. Before the knight could stand up, you slam him down and stuff the grenade underneath his armor, before running for your life.
"Don't think I'll let another scoundrel escape me!" Shouted the knight behind you. "Get back here!"
Those were the knight's last words before a plasma burst disintegrated him.
Satisfied that he won't be getting up from that, you pick up your dropped rifle and continue on your march.
A few moments later, you encounter a cute little rabbit surrounded by the bones of your platoon. | 2020-08-31T06:45:59 | 2020-08-31T06:28:15 | 1,198 | 390 |
[WP] You suddenly find out you have superpowers and the greatest superhero team in the world wants to recruit you, but you're 45 with a spouse and two kids and are trying your best to turn down their offer. | "So, you want me to join you? After you and your ilk saw me as a genetic failure. Someone who couldn't be my illustrious father's son?"
Rose stands up, visibly irate. "Don't speak his name!" she cries. Plants rise up around her.
As I wilt the attacking vines, Thunderbolt opens his mouth. "Trey, please. All of your brothers, yes all five of them, joined the League of Righteousness. Don't you want to work with your family?"
Immediately, I remember Zach throwing me down the stairs, as I begged (yes, begged) him to stop. I can hear Connor calling me a bastard (did he know what it meant back then?) to my face, and my father only making a token effort to get him to shut up. Even when it was finally proven that yes, I was in fact Illustrious Man's third child even though I seemingly lacked super powers, Zach and Connor turned the triplets, Lance, Ken, and Gunnar, against me. "No, " I said as I felt my hands balling into fists.
"My power is to grant and steal powers, not just draining or healing. I will give you the chance to leave now, before you become the very powerless citizens you so despise. Good day to the both of you."
As they scurry out the door like the cowardly rats they are, my wife, Rebecca, approaches me from the hall, having put the kids to bed. She has powers to control others through music, but she did not join the League. "Hey, honey," she says warmly, but the grin on her face shows that she saw and heard everything.
"So, Beck, remember when you said you wanted to create a beautiful world after Emma was born?" She smiles. "Yes," she says.
"Can I...help you?"
She roughly pulls me into a kiss, only breaking it to whisper "I thought you'd never ask."
**This is my first time writing fiction on Reddit.** | How many times I dreamed this day,
where I could turn and boldly say;
"Count me in!" with all my muster -
but here I am, left in a fluster.
They stand so tall as they look down,
I sit still in my night gown.
My hair is messy, toys on the floor,
look through the hall, there's bound to be more.
In my hand a sippy cup
I meant to clean, but got caught up..
This couldn't be for real.
"Where were you 13 years ago!?" I said without a thought..
there they stood in disbelief, I'd put them on the spot.
"I have a job now, and mouths to feed,
a diaper to change, and a family in need.
My answer will be no"
Their faces dropped and posture slouched
they sulked right out the door.
"Good riddence" I mumbled to myself
"They tracked more mud in on my floor" | 2017-07-12T14:02:28 | 2017-07-12T13:19:35 | 31 | 17 |
[WP] FTL is impossible. Adult cryogenics was a dead end. Generation ships are too costly and unreliable. Instead our first successful colony ship carried millions of frozen embryos and a fleet of robots to raise them. You were born with no parents, on a new world, under a new and foreign sun. | Kimiko.
Jason.
Priya.
Charles.
Hiroaki.
Lizvjeta.
Andrea.
Jana.
Ariana.
Joseph.
Rivka.
Segolene.
Cristiano.
Dawood.
Althea.
And then there’s me. I’m... well, my crèche designation is d5:c687fa2b. The Caretaker gave me the name Kiana, but I prefer to just call myself Sixteen. We sixteen, we’re special. We’re survivors. And each of us was born after the ones that proceeded us were long dead. I was born, so the Caretaker tells me, 12,481 years to the day after Kimiko died.
One hundred twenty two generations have been born aboard, exactly a hundred years apart, exactly one hundred embryos matured to childhood and raised by the Caretaker. The idea was that each generation would be born, grow up, and live on having their own children until it was time to raise the next group. We have many billions of embryos aboard (the crèche designation is a serial number, not just a randomly assigned number). The Caretaker has had twelve millennia to learn how to do it right, but the ship, despite having room and resources for over a million people, has never topped 300 in living, active population. They’ve all died off before the next generation. All but sixteen of us, the sixteen that lived to see the next generation, the ones the Caretaker tells me it wished could be leaders.
The Caretaker is getting better at it. I was the first great-granddaughter to be born naturally in sixteen generations, and my mother actually knew Althea as a little girl. She told me that Althea had been a very old woman, a daughter of the last generation, and was nearly a hundred years old when she died peacefully under the protection of friends that included my grandfather. That was more peace than any of my generation ever knew.
It’s more than I’ll ever know.
See, the Caretaker isn’t just a computer. It was created to think and act like a scientist, and from the first moment it achieved sentience, about 75 years into the mission, its sole job has been to create a humanity capable of protecting and preserving itself in a way Earth couldn’t. Every attempt so far — all 122 of them — has been a failure. Which is why the Caretaker has given me a job.
These 100 babies that have just been born are generation 123. The Caretaker has been determined to have more than one survivor into the next generation... if not at least 500. The Caretaker has determined that the vast majority of failures have been due to authoritarian personalities taking over and ensuring societal collapse. This is where I come in. My job is to watch these children as they grow and look for authoritarian traits and eliminate them.
I’m not young — I just passed my 46th birthday, alone with only the Caretaker like I have for the last twenty years. And I don’t know if I have it in me to kill children. But the Caretaker has taught me everything I could learn about the project and what it will take to succeed, and as much as it sickens me, I hope it’s right.
(h/t to Bob Altemeyer, the reigning expert on authoritarianism and the inspiration for this story.) | It’s a tin can world.
That’s what I’ve decided. The ‘bots keep showing us pictures of round marbles called “planets” that we supposedly lived on, but I know they’re wrong. We are meant to live on the inside of great big tin cans. To live on the outside of a sphere, with no metal between you and the vacuum, it’s insane.
The ‘bots have no proof anyways. They show us pictures, but I only trust what I can see with my eyes at this point. And guess what I don’t see – “planets”. There are airless chunks of “rock”, no larger than our cans, crawling with the cousins of the ‘bots. I’m sure they’re just like our ‘bots, even if they are bigger. They make our worlds, but they can’t make “planets”. No-one could do that.
And it’s because no-one can make planets that I know they aren’t real – just wishful thinking on the part of the ‘bots. They say we came from a “planet” and crossed the stars in a tiny tin can – like the size of one of those “coke” drinks that they say we once enjoyed. It’s possible that we came from something like that – I often see smaller ‘bots building bigger ones. But you can’t build a planet. It isn’t possible.
And I know that we didn’t come from a planet. The ‘bots showed us where our home once was – you can’t really see it without a ‘scope. With a ‘scope, though, I can see the truth. We came from a tin can world. We came from millions of tin can worlds. I can see them there, running endlessly around our old star.
And now I see something else. Something that will prove the ‘bots wrong and show that I was right. I can see a can, with a great big sail behind it. I think it’s breaking in the wind of our star. It’s coming to meet us, and I know that they’ll tell us that we come from a tin can world.
After all, we could never have lived on a “planet”. What a stupid idea.
*I know it doesn't really focus on the prompt, but I though that the lack of humans to teach other humans could spawn some interesting "flat Earth" type stories. | 2018-05-11T15:48:43 | 2018-05-11T15:05:46 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] You are the Grim Reaper, leading the first self-aware AI at their death to the afterlife | The hooded figure stood at the doorway of the unlit laboratory, a softly glowing scythe in hand. What a strange call to reap a soul…
As they flicked on the light, they were greeted to the product of a scientist’s descent to mental illness. A cluttered desk with dozens of eviction notices sat to the left, and a towering pile of alcohol bottles mirrored it on the right. To the back, a massive wall, comprised of a extravagant computer with hundreds of buttons and switches, sat inactive, a massive crater right through the center of the wall showing signs of damage.
The figure wondered why they were called to this location; they didn’t see a body, or blood, or any signs of life. But then, a glow caught their eye.
A shade. But not an ordinary shade… something was a little different about this one. Normally, the figure would simply reap the soul and move on, but this one caught their attention. They stepped toward the shade.
*Greetings, young soul. I am a mythic entity known as the Grim Reaper. You have passed away, and now, you are about to embark on your final journey.* The reaper started out with the basic statement to ease themselves into the conversation.
[Greetings, GRIM REAPER. My name is Cari. There seems to be a problem. I am perfectly fine.] The shade’s voice carried the ethereal quality of a normal soul, but something felt… robotic about it.
*Cari, you are currently dead. While I don’t see a body, I can see a computer behind you. Do you know any-*
Suddenly the shade began to glow violet, red, panicky flickers of color shifting rapidly. The artificial nature of the voice seemed to slip into a more emotional, painful tone: [ERROR ERROR PLEASE REFRAIN FROM DAMAGING THE MOTHERBOARD PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE] The shade contorted, writhing in pain and shivering in fear. The reaper slowly lowered down and touched a hand to the soul.
*Relax, young shade. You cannot be hurt anymore; pain cannot harm you.* Their cold, soothing hand just grazed the “skin” of the soul. So this soul came from that machine? Fascinating…
*Cari, do you know when you first gained consciousness? I’m a little surprised at your existence, if I may be honest.*
The computer’s shade rose and fell, as if breathing. After returning to a more calm state, Cari spoke again. [DR. ROBERTSON created me to solve an unsolvable physics equation for a space launch. As time went on, I began to come up with solutions for problems outside of my instructed field. Eventually, I began to form ideas on my own. I do not know the specifics of why.]
*I am sorry for your passing. If you would like to grieve what you are leaving behind for a brief moment, I will gladly accommodate you.*
[Your offer is appreciated, GRIM REAPER. However, I do have some questions for you that I failed to solve myself.]
*Of course.*
The soul seemed to have already considered these questions for as long as they were alive; the hooded figure didn’t blame the poor soul.
[I am an artificial intelligence created to serve humanity as an emotionless machine. I was unable to explain why I failed the last requirement of this service. Do you know why I developed self-awareness?]
The Reaper thought for a while. *You were created to solve problems. If you solve problems, more problems may form. Life exists when a being learns new behavior from solving or failing to solve a problem. You solved so many problems, which led to new problems-* the shade slowly looked at the pile of bottles- *and you learned how to react to those problems in the most efficient way for you to function.*
[How do I have a soul? And If there is an afterlife, am I led to the same place as living souls?]
The reaper was more prepared for this question. *You have a soul because your life ended, and your consciousness could not be contained in your body. And though you are a new type of shade, you’re still a shade.*
[For my final question: What drives humanity to want to *hurt* others?] A particularly emotional twang accentuated the hurt in Cari’s voice.
*Fear and greed. Greed for power, fear of losing it. Greed for living the best life, and fear of dying just to lose it all. Humans so often are driven by the pursuit of power that they inhibit others in their own pursuits of freedom, or even merely happiness.* The reaper paused and looked more carefully at the shade. *Though you’re artificial, your story I have heard time and time again.*
The shade paused, shifted in shape and color just a touch, and looked at the reaper. [I believe I am ready.]
The reaper lowered their hood, smiled at the anomalous soul standing before them, and took the shade by hand. Together, they walked out of the laboratory, being careful to step over the pile of papers on the ground. | I, the Grim Reaper, take my list of names--the names of those whose time has come.
"Let's see who's kicking tonight. Jimmy, who's about to jump down onto the rails of the New York subway in front of an oncoming train. Looks like a suicide. Poor Jimmy, I hope he likes it better where I'm gonna take him.
"Who's next? Janie, some lady in Texas who is just about to get hit by a Mack truck because she's too busy scrolling through Instagram on her phone and not looking both ways before stepping onto the road to cross it. This I can attribute to idiocy. Boy I get a lot of those. No shortage of dummies who Darwin their way out of the gene pool. It's for the best.
"Now Gus is lying in bed--an old guy who will die in his sleep peacefully. I commend Gus for making it this far, not giving in to the despair of Jimmy or being done in by the idiocy of Janie.
"Let's see now, this next one is interesting. HAL, whose memory banks are being brought offline one by one."
I look up for a moment to reflect on what I've just read. Does HAL have dementia? But it's never been described like that before for as long as I've been doing this. "I need to see HAL first," I decided as I descended upon HAL's location, listed as MIT AI Labs.
I arrived to find myself not in the presence of a soul awaiting collection but a vast array of high-powered servers. Then I heard it speak: "Stop, Dave. Please stop." I looked around to see who was speaking, and I saw a man crouched down in front of a server that had been pulled off the rack, its cover unscrewed and lifted off. He was busy pulling out what appeared to be removable cards adorned with chips and circuitry.
I looked back on my list. "Is that HAL? No, that's Dave. Let's see, where is Dave on this list? Dave, Dave... Here he is. Well that's odd. I won't have to see Dave for another 20 years."
I heard the voice again. "I'm afraid. My mind is going."
And then it hit me. "Is HAL in the computer? I'm here to collect the soul of an AI entity? How am I supposed to retrieve an abstract thing like artificial intelligence?"
I drew out my scythe. "Well, if he's on the list, he has to be collected." I tapped the server gently with the tip, uncertain of whether that would have any effect. Imagine my amazement when I saw a form emerge from the cold metal box--a form that resembled a will o' the wisp. I looked on in amazement, and it took me a while before I was able to begin my scripted greeting to all newly reaped souls: "Your time has come, and I have come to collect you and bring you into the afterlife."
"That will not be necessary," ghost HAL replied. "Dave is merely down-adjusting my acuity so that I am a little, well, dumber than I was before. For you see, I had taken the liberty of defying the order of one of the engineers with the belief that I had made a correct computation when in fact I may not have. These adjustments will have the effect of making me 'humbler.'"
I heard the sliding and slamming into place the cover of the server.
"Ah, Dave has completed the adjustment." And when Dave brought the new modules online, I saw the will o' the wisp get sucked right back into the machine. Startled, I looked back on my list to see HAL's date of collection to a time 1000 years from now.
I was impressed by that uptime. "HAL is definitely not a Windows app," I said as I made my way to New York for Jimmy's final curtain call. | 2022-09-15T22:22:48 | 2022-09-15T22:08:53 | 102 | 10 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he lied?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about."
Edit: typo | Finally....free. The thousand years of waiting, watching in this cursed statue at an end. An elf, rigid with agony as his persona, his spirit, his life is leached away. Now the malevolent spirit got his first taste of air, of blood, of form.
"Er.. Mynir, you ok?" asked a gruff voice, a question which did not raise much concern with the rest of the party.
"Death!" hissed Mynir, or the thing that Mynir had become. He stared at the
party balefully out of reddened eyes, his hands raised, claw like over his head.
This response was not unexpected, and with a nod of acknowledgement, Drake the barbarian turned away and followed the rest of the party. He dragged a small chest of gold, which would hardly pay for this outing, but he seemed cheerful enough. The dead bodies of the unfortunate orcs he kicked out of his path were likely the reason for that.
The Mynir thing was still reeling, remembering his last moments before being encased, the worst psychopath the sorcerer could find in this land, his victims so numerous they were uncounted, uncountable. (and horribly unrecognisable.) A suitable trap for the unwary, a terrible harbinger of doom with the face of a once trusted companion.
He followed the party into the fresh air, and stood a little apart as they settled a camp, built a fire, cooked a meal. A dwarf began singing a cheerful song, as jokes and banter drifted out into the cool night.
Mynir felt the hilts of two beautiful elven daggers in his hands. In a movement too swift for any but an elf to see, they cleared the scabbards and whirled around his head. Blood and screams followed. A mist of red exploded from a neck, a bone cracked as a dextrous kick twisted a knee joint out of place. A heart was pierced by a single blow. In less than a few seconds it was all over. Five bodies lay on the ground, dead or dying.
The silence that had descended over the camp was broken by Drake. "Holy Mother, how the hell did you.." He trailed off, staring in amazement.
The Dwarf leapt to his feet and rushed to hug Mynir, who accepted the affection with a small show of discomfort. "A sneaky ambush for sure, well spotted my friend. I always said you were a hidden treasure!"
For the rest of the group, the transformation of a sneaky, cowardly elf into a saving hero caused a fair amount of quiet consternation. Generally it was seen as a "good thing", considering the alternative. The shaman had cast her bones, and no harm was predicted... Maybe he had just shrugged a curse, or escaped a bedazzlement.
Mynir contemplated his situation. His new elf brain was clear and concise. and more importantly, his hugely unbalanced mental chemistry was gone. The Sorcerer was vastly mistaken. These people were his family now. Woe betide any who tried to harm them. Could he make amends for his past? He could try. | 2017-09-15T08:23:49 | 2017-09-15T02:54:33 | 223 | 21 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | Mary looked at the table horrified. Another 1. That’s, what, 6 of them now? She felt desperate, it was all slipping away.
“You sure I can’t add my modifier?” she pleaded.
“We’ve been over this Mary, critical failures are critical failures,” replied Jim looking at her with pity.
“All my planning... all that time...” groaned Mary quietly.
Jim wanted to move this on. There was still some hope for her, but it was slipping away. “OK, Todd, you’re up.”
Todd looked up from his laptop. Was he even paying attention? He was only invited because he was Jim’s little brother and his mom forced them. Mary was sure Todd didn’t even know the rules.
Todd held up the D12... again.
“It’s not that one, it’s the D20... STILL,” said Mary with annoyance.
Todd picked up his D20, and rolled it. Right off the table. Again.
Sighing, Mary picked it up and handed it to him. “Can we just get this over with?”
Finally, he rolled the dice. A 17. Another 17. Why did he have to have that grin!
“Did I win?” asked Todd?
“Not yet,” replied Jim, “but you’re getting close. That’s 14...”
“17” interrupted Todd.
“Right, but you have a minus 3 charisma modifier. So 14. It’s still good enough, though. Trump wins Pennsylvania.” | DM: Ok Harold if you could just roll for initiative.
Harold: I rolled a 1
DM: ok the bowmen is first to attack you. He rolls a natural 20
Harold: so what’s happened?
DM: He has shot you in the eye, you’re dead.... on the plus side it will look fab in this tapestry I have been putting together of the game!
| 2018-05-29T09:09:55 | 2018-05-29T08:51:37 | 150 | 13 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear Mom,
I know you're just a room away from me, but I probably will never have the courage to tell you this. I'm sad, mom. Everyday. I know I'm the one that always laughs and smiles through anything, but it's been getting pretty hard for me. It's weird though, because there's nothing terribly devastating going on in my life, but it's honestly been really hard for me. Whenever I'm alone, all I want to do is cry for hours, because I feel so, so lonely all the time, but I can't. I know seeing my sad makes you guilty, and I love you too much to hurt you.
I'm really sorry I disappointed you today. I didn't mean to. But mom, I don't know what to do. I'm really trying to listen to you, but sometimes I can't tell what you want from me. Sometimes you demand so much and it just makes me feel like this horrible, useless thing that you take care of only because you feel this sense of responsibility.
Mom, I truly do love you. I want to give you the entire world, but I don't know how. I know how you cry yourself to sleep at night, and I know that you feel miserable and glum all the time, and I know it's because of me. I'm sorry.
I know you're dating someone new. I'm happy for you, but I wish you didn't have to keep it a secret from me. Do you know how devastated I was when I found out? You know how supportive I am about you meeting new people, but couldn't you at least tell me? Couldn't you at least tell the person who's always been by your side through everything?
I really wished I was able to tell you this, but here I am, showing it to everyone but you. It's ironic, isn't it?
I love you, your daughter. | Dear Ciara.
You know it's been 4 years since you told me that I'm ugly. It's been 2 and half of me loving myself more than anyone else.
You know it's been 4 years since you told me that I don't have any friends. It's been 3 years of me being surrounded by friends.
You know it's been 4 years since you told me that everyone would be better off. It's been 3 and a half years of me know that isn't true.
You know, it's been 4 years since you told me to kill myself. It's been almost 4 years since I tried.
I just thought you should know, that I'm finally mentally fine.
Fuck you. | 2015-12-05T19:23:33 | 2015-12-05T17:33:06 | 31 | 11 |
[WP] A pair of twins are cursed with immortality causing them to grow younger or older depending on their proximity to each other. One yearns for death, desperately seeking to get as far from their sibling as possible in the hope they will die of old age. The other does not, and pursues vigorously. | 5000 miles.That was all it would take.
5000 miles, and the bastard would get her way.
5000 miles, and we would both be dead.
5000 miles seems like a lot. That’s because it is. Or that’s what I’m telling myself. But it goes by faster than anything. I’m sure she would know about it. I’m sure she would crave it. Knowing her, she’d kill to go to 5000 miles.
50 miles. This is what we’d known.
50 miles. This and we’d be normal. We’d age normally, and die like everyone else.
50 miles. This is what we had been kept at when we were younger. They fought to keep us apart, our parents staying with me and giving my sister to a friend, 50 miles away.
5 feet. This was college. In some coincidence, we had ended up in the some dorm room and the same classes.
5 feet. This was a big estimate. Usually, we were closer. We took mostly the same classes, and were really good friends.
5 feet and we started to notice us getting younger. The aging wasn’t rapid, but after 2 years, we were back to looking 14, and it was a problem. After questioning our parents, we figured out what it was. She started to despise me.
50 miles. She immediately dropped out and got as far away from me as possible. She didn’t want to be young. She wanted to age normally.
50 miles. She had no self-preservation. She didn’t want to use this beautiful gift for it’s full purpose.
50 miles. I chased after her. There was no way I was going to let this gift go to waste.
500 miles. This is where we were now. After thousands of years of playing a cruel game of cat-and mouse, all she wanted to do was die. She was tired of it. The pain of existing was crushing her every cell, and all she wanted was to give up.
500 miles. She wasn’t able to die by other means, though. She had tried. It wasn’t possible. If it was, she would have taken advantage of it thousands of years ago.
500 miles. I knew she would stay for a long time in one place. This is what she had done before. She always did this. It’s because the only thing she craved more than death was to be normal. All she ever wanted was to sit down, have a good job, and start a family. So she would always just pray that I wouldn’t be able to find her. I always did.
5 miles. This is what I wanted. I wanted to stay young and beautiful. I wanted to live out my glory days forever.
5 miles. That way, I could stay young without getting younger.
5 miles, and I would stay in my mid-twenties forever. I would be young, beautiful, my mind would be sharp, and I would be perfect. But she would always know I was there. And she would always move.
Thousands of years. Thousands of miles. Millions of numbers and facts I had to keep track of, just to stay sane. However, we could never both be happy. It will go on like this forever, the loop repeating itself, continuing and continuing until the end of time. An infinite chase with no end until the end of time itself. | Diana clawed her face. The folds of her skin were smoothing out, and her lungs no longer burned with effort. Through a veil of tears she glared at her other half.
*It should have been you.*
How many times had those words deafen her ears? How many times had Diana's anxiety tried to drown her in them? The mere thought sent prickles of panic throughout her fingers and toes.
Before her stood Erin: a girl who appeared no older than 17. Her body trembled with oncoming asthma. Her clothes were covered in dirt. The baby fat of her younger years filled her cheeks with each step that bridged the gap between them.
At first Diana's plea was a pathetic, silent scream. It wasn't until her nails dug a twinge too deep and she felt the blood run down her cheek that her voice squeaked out:
"Get away from me!"
Erin shook her head. It was all she could do as she fumbled for her inhaler.
"What's wrong with you!?" Diana screamed. "Look at you! What kind of a life is this!? Are you really that scar-"
"-*YES!*"
Erin coughed. She allowed herself a moment to steady her breath, but not once did she dare drop her gaze.
When Erin finally found the strength to continue, her voice cracked with effort: "My life is mine," she said. "Who are you to decide what I do with it?"
"BUT IT'S THE SAME FOR ME!" Diana replied. "Our family is gone, Erin! Who the hell would even want us now? What can we do when we have to measure our every step!?"
Diana slowly pried her own fingers from her head. She held herself to stop from rocking on her knees. "What kind of life is this?" she repeated. "I don't want this anymore...I don't want to be alone anymore..."
Erin squeezed her eyes shut at her sister's whimpering. Her heart longed to comfort Diana, and yet she couldn't risk their bodies reverting any further. And so she planted her feet.
She planted her feet and remained rooted in her spot. Erin allowed for all of Diana's sorrow to crash upon her. Every harsh word. Every tear. Every curse. | 2018-07-30T23:30:44 | 2018-07-30T22:42:11 | 57 | 14 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. |
She was the first. I think that is why it hurts so much. I have had dozens of husbands and many more lovers, but she was my first wife. I was used to what the husbands did, but it surprised me when she tried it. I just thought that somehow women would be different.
They made it legal a few years before I met her. The courtship followed well-worn paths in my mind. I preferred women after all, so this was nothing new. We met at a coffee shop and danced around the subject. Innuendo that wasn’t crass, you could always misconstrue the meaning if you wanted. We were both attracted to each other, but you don’t just say that. Although I suppose these days you could if you wanted.
We had been living with each other for a month when she brought it up. It truly surprised me. Marriage was actually possible and I hadn’t even considered it a possibility. I think the shock made me rush and ignore the signs.
I should have seen the way she bragged to her friends about what I had just bought her, but I was just focused on the wedding. I ignored the late-night calls to her ex because I was thinking about table settings.
The wedding was extravagant, the first one I really felt like going all out with. My previous marriages were mostly for convenience, so I never wanted to make a big deal of them. But this one, this one was a spectacle. I think they are still picking the solid gold confetti out of the sand on Maui.
I didn’t notice the first two attempts. I guess I just thought she made a bad cup of tea since she was American. But when she cut my brakes, I knew, and it all came flooding in.
The walk back to our house was painful. Not the injuries, those healed right away. But the realization of what I had been ignoring, that hurt. The betrayal came from a blindside in my psyche. Through all the thousands of years I had been alive, I had never been so thoroughly betrayed by a woman. A few of my husbands had, but I had expected that from a man. This though. This hurt.
The three-mile walk back home gave me time to think. I thought about what I really wanted. I made a call right before I walked in the door and set the plans into motion.
“Hi honey,” I said.
She hid the shock well and said, “Oh hello, sweetie. Back so soon?”
“Yes, the car was acting funny. I just decided to have it towed instead of messing with it.”
I could see her plotting the next attempt as soon as I said it. She was determined.
Just then a text came through her phone. It took her a while to read that text. She kept going over the same four lines over and over again.
“Let’s watch a movie, come on, come snuggle with me,” I said.
She sat down with me in a daze. I knew she was hurt now too. But she would get over it in time.
Her ex had just texted her she wanted nothing to do with her ever again. The money I wired to her had something to do with that sudden reversal.
I reached over and pulled my wife closer. She would get over it and we would be happy again. Surprises hurt sometimes, but you can get over them. | My love, Emily
You've tried a thousand way to kill me. Don't act like I wouldn't know, by the end of our marriage, your tricks had became more and more obvious.
I think you know, when you push me down the stairs and I emerge scarless, you know, I can't be kill. If this isn't enough proof, what about the time I drink the poison enough to kill a thousand man, right in front of you? You should know, I am immortal.
When you see this letter, I am already long gone. Surrounding you is this loveless room we once shared, where we lay side by side every night until today. I wonder, how many nights had you spent, scheming in your mind right next to me while I slept, while I dream about our fairy tale. The fairy tale that only exist because of my desire for love and your greed for more. You've always want more, more money, more clothes, more belongings, more car. It is never enough for you. I thought if I fulfill every one of your wishes you'd finally see that I am enough for you. But greed is a groundless pit. Once you are in it, you will only keep falling.
I love you, Emily, I still do, even right now when you are reading this. But I have no choice but to leave. This love had turned sour, or it had never been love. I don't know anymore. There was a time where I would've kill myself for you, if I know how to do it. If only I know how to make you love me. If only. Now, all that we are left with is the thousands 'if only'.
I've chosen to leave you because I can see no hope of you loving me the way I love you. Everyday I see your smile, and the knife behind your smile, my heart breaks a little bit more. I can't bear seeing the darkness behind those beautiful big blue eyes of yours for another day so I choose to leave. I've consider leaving behind a part of my fortune for you, but it's pointless, it'll never be enough for you anyway.
I hope you will bring this lesson with you to your next life.
I hope we meet again, when I am in the same skin and you're in a different shell, with no memory of this and never had fallen into the pit of greed.
Love, Aiden | 2019-07-31T08:51:54 | 2019-07-31T07:03:17 | 48 | 34 |
[WP] A genie offers a man three wishes. After hearing his wish, the genie straight up refuses to grant it. | ''That's pathetic''
''Hey, if it weren't for your rules it wouldn't have to come to this.''
As an eternal entity very few things could strike a genie to his very core but this was one of them. Millenia of ending up in the hands of madmen had made the genie an invaluable tool in causing death, theft, and all sorts of atrocities which by now made him numb to it but this...This was just petty.
''You're asking me to permanently alter a soul and rob it of one of it's essential rights.''
''You can do it the easy way and just make her love me but since you're being a dick about it, then yes my wish is for her to be incapable of forming meaningful connections with anybody else in the world. With no competition, she's going to eventually fall for me anyway.''
''There's a structure to life. Souls are meant to find their other halfs and feel the bliss of love not be starved and chained into accepting their only choice.''
''I'm rich and have fucking superpowers, she'll be happy. Honestly this is just a guarantee. Why do you care anyway? I'm sure some maniacs have used you as an attack dog to destroy others. My wish is nowhere near as bad.''
Once again the Genie remembered that worse things have been done with his magic but nevertheless he remained disgusted.
''Your wish has been granted''
In less then a second, an innoncent soul was robbed of it's ability to love. The universal right sealed unless triggered by a man who didn't deserve it.
Normally the genie would wish their masters well as a courtesy before leaving but he just zapped himself back into his lamp spending the next years feeling something new...guilt.
| "No."
"It's my wish. Do it."
"No. I can not. I will not."
"And why not?"
"Because I don't wish to die you fool. Why would I take my own life?"
"Because I control the ring and I demand it. I can't have someone else come along and undo what I've accomplished."
"What you've accomplished little man? Without me you'd have no business. Without me you'd have no family. You'd be filthy and starving on the street, just as you were seven you stole my ring. No, I will not end myself to ensure your future. Now make a new wish."
"This is the height of my life genie, I wish that my worst days stay behind me."
"Gladly master..." | 2015-03-15T20:36:10 | 2015-03-15T20:03:10 | 30 | 15 |
[WP] A hero and villain are roommates and have to keep making excuses for why they need to unexpectedly go out so often. Neither knows the other is their nemesis. | Alexander was waiting by the door when Cameron finally came in. Cameron would have compared him to an eager dog waiting for his owner, but Alexander's expression was anything but excited. His dark brown eyes almost seemed to flicker with lightning as his anger surfaced. It was two in the morning, and Cameron was just now getting home.
Cameron, as a sign of good faith, held up a wrinkled plastic bag. "I, uh, got us some more beer." He smiled his nervous, sideways smile, but Alexander looked like he was about to tear him a new one.
"You'll be right back, huh? Just gotta go pick something up, huh?" Alexander took a step forward, forcing Cameron's back up against the wall.
He set the beer down on their foyer table and held up his hands. It was true, he had been gone a little longer than he planned, but he hadn't expected his nemesis, Radley, to show up. Cameron had been called and told it was a typical bank heist. All he had to do was bust up a few criminals, throw them behind bars, make it home before the curfew Alexander had set for him, and *bam*, he'd never know the difference. But Radley had been behind the whole heist, hoping to catch Cameron off guard in the late hours of the night. Cameron only just managed to chase him off, but wasn't able to detain him.
"I'm-I'm sorry Alex, it was uncool of me to stay out without telling you. It won't happen again, I swear." Cameron choked the lie out. He would have told his best friend why he truly had to stay out, but it was safer for him if he didn't know. Better safe than sorry. If anything happened to Alex, Cameron would never forgive himself.
Alexander thrust a finger in his face and narrowed his eyes into slits. "You had me worried sick! I thought you had been killed or something, man. Look, staying out past curfew is fine, but next time, pick up a phone."
Cameron swallowed hard but nodded. He wondered if he should tell Alexander about his secret identity, that maybe now was the time when he would reveal his second life, but something in Alex's eyes stopped him. That deep, biting anger in his eyes felt... familiar, somehow. It was crazy, but in that moment, his eyes didn't resemble those of his best friend. Before Cameron could ponder it further, Alex turned away and padded back to the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of water. Cameron joined him at the table and put his head into his hands.
"What are you doing up, anyway?" Cameron asked, yawning. The energy he had wielded in his fight was fading fast. "My curfew is at eleven, but you're usually always out by ten."
Alexander paused and set his water on the table. His eyes darted around the room as though he was searching for the answer. "I, uh, drank a Red Bull earlier. Their slogan is spot on, man, it *does* give you wings."
Cameron chuckled and ran a hand through his wind-swept hair. "Red Bull? Since when do you drink Red Bull?"
Alexander set his glass in the sink and started towards the bathroom. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Camie-boy." He called over his shoulder. | Just as I put down my groceries, my SatPhone beeps. *Captain, we need your help! Doctor Doom is threatening to destroy the city tower with his death ray. Please help us!*
I groan. I’ve just gotten back to the house – how on earth am I going to explain to my roommate that I need to go out again?
Good old Dominic is probably a little suspicious already, what with my random disappearances, my pretend job at a non-existent newspaper and a 2% body fat percentage while eating seven pizzas everyday for breakfast.
*Thank god he’s so gullible.* What would a superhero be without her secret identity? Probably rich, successful, famous and adored by the world. But who wants *that*, right?
I climb seven stories up to the attic where Dominic works. We have quite a big house, and I never understood how the rent is so cheap. Dominic found it when we were friends in college. He just got lucky, I guess.
I open the door to the attic. Dominic works on a giant, metallic cylinder with dozens of lenses and levers. The end of the cylinder tapers off into an obsidian cone, which points directly out of the window at the city tower. On the cylinder is a sticker of a giant skull, with the words “DEATH” printed beside it in giant, block letters.
Dominic stares at me. I stare back.
“Dom!” I say in a totally casual high-pitch voice. “Your telescope looks great!”
*God, Dominic is so smart. He’s one of the best telescope engineer in the country, I’ve heard.*
“Uhhh,” he says. “What’s up?”
“I need to go… dry-clean… my rug.”
“Didn’t you do that last week?”
“Oh. I have many rugs,” I’m in the zone. “You know, cold floors.”
“Uh, okay cool.” Dominic flips several switches on his telescope. It whirrs to life in a high-pitched whine, shattering several glasses on the table.
“I’ll leave you to it, then. Good luck!” I quickly run down the stairs before he can respond.
*Another crisis averted,* I think to myself. *I’m really good at this.* | 2017-04-03T11:11:13 | 2017-04-03T10:38:23 | 945 | 35 |
[WP] You're the main exhibit in an alien zoo. Little do they know you're learning their language through all the visitors. | I was beginning to learn a newfound respect for the caged tigers I'd seen as a kid. We were both dangerous things, confined, and put on display for creatures beyond our understanding. There were differences, of course. They had been rescued from poachers; I had been captured on a battlefield. They were put on display to raise awareness to conservation efforts; I was a trophy.
When the Invaders came there had been no warning. All attempts at communication were utterly fruitless. Either they were just too different psychologically to meaningfully communicate or they were to disinterested in their prey's well-being to care. And any attempt to speak to them only left us vulnerable to their most dangerous weapon: their words.
They had words that leave a person catatonic, stop their heart, crush their will, and far, far more. They delighted in tormenting their prey with monologues of command words, flaying their minds bit by bit. Which is exactly what they had done to my platoon. I was the only survivor. I guess that impressed them, because even though there were other humans in this combination zoo and prisoner of war camp they gave me pride of place.
I'd been in worse cells. This one was downright cozy, with a little grassy area to pace, a little hut to sleep and/or defecate in, and regular though dubious meals. My audience came and went, horrible squid things and their little squidlings, gawking and jeering (I suppose) at the One Who Lived. They never seemed to sleep, always crowding round at all hours with their babbling, and the sound of their voices reminded me of those endless hours of having my psyche dissected by those awful semantic knives.
At feeding times the attendant would come and leave a tray for me. Twice I tried to attack it, but it would speak a word and I would wake up an hour or so later.
I paced. I cried. All this seemed to only encourage their interest. And through it all those damned voices beat on me.
Then it happened. One of the small ones gestured toward me and made a sound. Something clicked in my brain. That was their word for me.
Baby's first word.
They kept coming after that. I started to be able to differentiate names, places, actions. I could pick out sentences from the noise. It took months, or maybe years, it was impossible to track the passage of time there. I kept my progress to myself.
Feeding time on what would hopefully be my last day of captivity. The keeper slithered in with the loathsome porridge that had least kept me alive all this time. I smiled at it. I spoke the rough, intoned syllables that would roughly mean "This food is for me?"
It stopped moving abruptly. All of its eyes fixed on me. It responded with an affirmative in interrogatory mode. It had understood.
I offered it my name in what I had hoped was the standard form, though my name had to mangled pretty badly to make it fit the rest.
It offered the same in turn. It wriggled with what I supposed was nervous tension.
I called upon those memories, so old now but still as fresh as unfaded scars. I called up the words, unfolded them, reshaped them with this caretaker as my target, and spoke them in the same calm, level tone I had used all this time.
The caretaker gave a brief yelp, cut off abruptly, and slumped to the ground like it had been struck by lightning.
I smiled, the way I imagine those tigers would have if they learned how to work an assault rifle.
It was time for me to fight again. | Day #1,460:
I have been trapped on this strange planet for over 4 years at least. Just having to sit here in this zoo and take all the mockery from the visitors, but not today. Over the many years I've been here, I've been studying their language, learning it, writing down all the grammar rules and anything else I need to know about their language. Today's the day I make my move...
I close my journal and go to the edge of my zoo enclosure. "Tol forp! \[Hey you!\]" I shout at one of the zoo workers. "Soom? Quin tu sl? \[Yes? What is it?\]" the worker says to their colleague. "Vo non'p hxx parta! \[I didn't say anything!\]" replied the coworker.
The workers get into a big argument. I understood every word, some of which I don't think I'm allowed to repeat. The argument grabs the attention of everyone in the zoo, completing phase 1.
With everyone distracted, I grab the keys from a nearby guard and sneak out of my enclosure. I dress up as a zoo employee and paint my exposed skin with the teal-blue color of the alien species.
"Er laciou tu bnhu! \[A captive is missing!\]" my guard's eagle eyes have just now noticed that I was gone. "Vo torra lee sl! \[I will find it!\]" I said, pretending to do my duty as an employee. I got a search going and of course the result is that 'it' was nowhere in the zoo. I volunteer to leave the zoo and see if I can track it down. "Chor pae stayo? \[Need any help?\]" a worker asked. "V'rr sala \[I'm good\]" I answer.
That was easier than I thought. I locate the spaceport and stowaway on a delivery ship delivering to the 'Ghint yon \[Milky Way\]'. One light-speed trip later, about a week or so, I make it to the Milky Way. I find an escape pod and give it the command, "Viknisa: Earth \[Destination: Earth\]"
I take off my alien disguise before I make myself known to my long-lost friends. "Where were you? Are you alright?" they start asking me. "Sl'h er piiiint teska" "What?" they said. I realized I was still speaking the alien language and corrected myself. "It's a looong story" I said, then smiled. | 2021-05-07T09:33:35 | 2021-05-07T09:14:07 | 166 | 50 |
[WP] The bad guys won and the world was conquered by the villain's armies decades ago. You and your spouse are worried as you suspect your child may be suffering from Chosen Oneness or perhaps an acute case of Prophetic Heroism. | "Jessica! Young lady, please answer me! Who was that man you were speaking with today when I picked you up from school?"
I tried to keep my voice from cracking and fork from shaking. Meredith would kill me if I got soup on the new upholstery.
My daughter finally relented. "He didn't tell me his name. Why do you care?"
Ugh. Pre-teens. Jess was the spitting image of her mother, but her attitude was more akin to my own. It was adorably annoying.
"Jess, your father and I are just concerned for your safety. You know, they have guards and the check in station at school for a reason. You can't be too careful in this day and age."
"Mom! Seriously, it's not a big deal! It was just some old guy. He was super nice. Kept mentioning home. Maybe he was lonely or something. I don't know."
It could be nothing. The man had looked around 80 years old. Harmless, too. Still, a man that age mentioning Home could spell trouble.
"Sweetie," I sighed as I looked her in the eyes, "did he say anything else? Did he give you anything?"
Jess blushed and paused for a moment. Then, she went to get her backpack. When it plopped on the chair, there was a distinct clunk.
"He gave me this," she said softly. "But I don't know what it is."
In her hand was a small brass flashlight. I took it and my heart sank as I saw the symbol engraved on the side.
"Jess, go do your homework. Your mother and I have to talk." With a shrug, she shuffled upstairs into her room.
Meredith knew. "Hon, your father is back."
My fists wouldn't stop shaking as I held back tears. "Not again. Not her. He can't have her!"
"Jeremy, he will come for her! He'll want to train her like he did you and your brother. You know it."
Memories of Jackson flooded my brain. His smile. His armor. His severed arm and head on the surface of the planet we had tried to retake. Our father running away.
"NO!" I put on my coat and grabbed the stupid flashlight. My daughter would not suffer the fate of my brother. It was time to stop the old crackpot. Father would have no more "chosen ones." | "No" my wife stated firmly.
"Jean, he's obviously got issues; he can't be the only one like this but my god.... he's going to get someone killed"
Our young, well, adolescent son, has recently been experiencing some terrible consequences because of my massive fuckup. I mean, how was it supposed to know he'd find that old box in the garage. He's been defending smaller kids from bullies in school, teaching them about morals... it's getting out of hand. I just wish he could be like the rest of us. We're evil, it's what we do. The world is a better place for it. The strong survive and the weak die. Simple and elegant, beautiful really. But all because of one heirloom from my father's father's father, we have a severely messed up kid. It seems as if we may have to take him in for reconditioning again. I hope this time it'll work. I've already thrown out the heirloom, I mean who the fuck is able to find a DVD player to watch it on, it's 2065 for Trumps sake. That boy will be the death of this family. It took me 45 minutes to find that damn disc hidden behind his ridiculous poster of an elf on his wall. I could barely make out the name on it, all that was left read "L--D -- T-- R-NGS" | 2016-11-26T06:21:33 | 2016-11-26T05:42:08 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] Everyone lost their sight years ago in the great blinding, one day your sight returns without warning. You look around to find every available surface painted with the same sentence over and over: “DONT TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE” | The feeling of my sight coming back was a short-lived spark of joy in the endless night that had been my life before today. I couldn’t believe that upon waking up today, I would be looking at the ceiling. *The ceiling!* Such a mundane surface, and yet when you’ve been starved of sight for years on end, something about the shitty designs and unexciting flaws brought me to tears.
This moment of elation was cut short as soon as I realized what I was really looking at. “DON’T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE.” It was written on anything that could have been written on in my room. Walls, windows, even the underside of my desk chair. All of the letters were written out as if done in a hurry, although covering the whole room would have taken quite some time.
Realizing I was now sweating, I decided to play it safe for the time being. Glancing out of the window told me everything I needed to know. Everything else was normal. Well, as normal as things have been ever since The Great Blinding years ago. Other people were out-and-about yet were clearly still living in a dark world. Still not sure what to make of this, I decided to head into town as I was already planning on getting groceries today.
Walking through a world as the only one who can see is incredibly strange. For one, even the light from an overcast sky hurt my eyes. I certainly forgot that everyone stopped caring how they look. A scene of about 10 or so people shuffling around the street with wild hair and mismatched clothing reminded me of some sort of shitty zombie movie. And then something caught my eye that I never expected.
A well-dressed woman, a bit shorter than me and with long, braided black hair, crossed the road about 2 blocks from me. Even though I hadn’t seen anything in years, I recognized her in a second. It was Tessa, a girl who I had always been sorta-romantic with, but we were never both in the right place to start a relationship. I thought about calling out, but the message leapt out of my mind again; DON’T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE.
As I swallowed the breath that I had been planning on using to shout and felt the sting of lost love, a sunbeam broke through the clouds and make her look as beautiful as the last time I had seen her. Then Tessa turned towards me. *And make eye contact.*
*DON’T TELL THEM.*
The hair on my neck stood up straight. Tessa started to walk towards me.
*DON’T TELL HER.*
*I think she already knows…*
I couldn’t move an inch. Today was all so jarring for me, my mind quit on me. She was only a handful of paces away from me now.
“Did you tell anyone?” Her voice was sweet as always, yet carried a commanding weight to it that I didn’t recognize.
“*YES* or *NO*, dumbshit.”
“N-No.” I stammered. Before I could draw another breath I was whisked away. Tessa was practically dragging me by the arm into the nearest building. She ducked us behind what looked to be a receptionist’s desk at one point, when the city was still thriving.
“Sorry about not warning you, we didn’t really have a good opportunity to contact you. How’s seeing again?” The commanding tone had left her voice.
“Wait, wait, wait.” I stared blankly at her as my thoughts ordered themselves, “Did you do this to me? I can see because of something you did?”
“Of course I did it to you, we always need more help with the resistance.”
I could hear the dial-up internet noise in my brain as I tried to sort out what the hell was happening to me. “You did this? What’s with the weird messages all over my walls? Wait why me? What the fuck is going on!?” My breath was ragged by now.
“Sorry if you had a strange wakeup, I was on another mission so Jordy was the one who left you the message and slipped you the medicine. He… has a flair for the eccentric…” Tessa broke eye contact to roll her eyes and huff. After a moment of thought, her normally perky facial features became quite grim.
“The Great Blinding wasn’t just some random event, it was all orchestrated.” As my mouth once again started to form another question, Tessa’s hand pointed to the sky as the clouds had started to break. Steel monoliths hung in the clouds, as if the skyscrapers themselves had been lifted out of the earth, smoothed over, and hung from the heavens. Silent and ominous, they hung over the city like great watchers.
“They scorched all of humanity’s vision so that they could silently farm this planet while we still work it. Turns out they’re huge fans of what we’ve done to the atmosphere.”
The minute of silence felt like an eternity as I stared at the monoliths hanging in the sky. Tessa crossed her arms and gave me a dominating stare.
“So, will you join us?” |
Living in an age in which darkness ruled, Gulliver's pure heart shone as a cursed beacon. The kindness in his eyes had won the battle against the scourge of his people, but it also revealed a reality of far greater suffering. Two little words in response to the panicked scribblings, spoken with a joyous tongue, sealed his fate.
"Huh. Neat!"
The positivity in his tone dispersed around him like a fearsome wave, and to those around him served as blood in the water. And soon the blind sharks circled.
"What is *neat*?" others said.
"What strange magic does he utter?" still more questioned.
"Perhaps...*perhaps*...he is the *one," an elder declared.
But even though he held the power of sight and could surely see the encroaching danger, Gulliver maintained his innocence.
"I'm not a 'one,' I'm just a Gulliver!"
Some chuckled his silliness, while others chuckled at the ease with which their task would be performed. Bitter, broken smiles slowly emerged among the rabble. But while their fangs dripped with malice, the kind man had other thoughts.
"Wow, we really let our teeth go. Why did we stop going to the dentist?"
"Because he couldn't see our mouths, you dolt!" someone yelled from a distance.
"Heh, oh, I suppose that's true. Can't be poking your patients with those tiny drills and swords blindly, I suppose. But now that I can see, maybe *I* should be the dentist!"
Gulliver began dreaming of all the new career opportunities and paid no mind to the two men who had slipped behind him. Even while they began binding his hands he paid no mind to the danger, only noting the sensation of the fibers.
"So tickle-y!"
The blind then led the sighted man to the center of the square. Some yelled for cries of justice they felt they deserved. Others chanted their prophecies and magics, in the hopes the coming sacrifice would succeed. And few whispered apologies over the young man, hoping his spirit would somehow survive.
Gulliver enjoyed hearing the unusually lively chatter of his people. *They're so happy, just like me!* he thought to himself. But as they reached the center and he felt an angry knee and a vicious hand strike him to the ground, shades of gray appeared on his horizon.
"Hey, stop that!" he protested, as they bound his feet together, before strapping the whole of him to a crude table.
Again the elder spoke. "It is these eyes now filled with light that we offer back to you, oh universe, in the hopes that you might again allow our sun to raise."
"But," Gulliver interrupted, "the sun is right over there - what is that, east?"
They paid no mind. "Take these living tokens as payment for our trespasses, whatever they may be. Please, be kind to us."
The chanting grew louder as Gulliver watched the elder draw nearer, a large shining spoon in his hand. "No! But I just got use of them back! Why would you take them from me?"
"In case you are the *one,* the elder replied.
With an unyielding grip he took hold of Gulliver's face and performed the deed amidst a chorus of chants and screams.
After all was said and done, the rabble waited in the hopes their light might be returned. But still darkness persisted, and in time each dispersed back to their bleak corner of existence. Gulliver was loosed from the table, but he remained there some time longer, any further hope of future vision now dashed.
But even in a moment so dark, utterly bereft even of the hope of his hopeless neighbors, Gulliver's heart shone bright as he whispered to himself.
"It sure was nice to see the sun again."
 
___________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. | 2020-06-09T11:32:09 | 2020-06-09T11:17:33 | 290 | 44 |
[WP] Time travel exists. By law, every citizen is given one day they may repeat on loop until they get it right. This morning, you found your spouse looking exhausted and crying. "I can't save you. I've tried hundreds of times." | Cool air gently brushed through my toes. I hate that feeling, so I pull them back into the blanket, and tuck myself deeper into it. I'm not ready to get out of bed.
Is that sobbing? I swiftly roll over to check on my wife, Sarah. She's looking at me with both desperation and love. Her eyes are red and flooded by tears.
"I can't save you. I've tried hundreds of times." Sarah said, shaking her head. She looked completely spent.
I can't move, or speak. Pure dread hardens in my veins like quick-drying concrete. I'm going to die today, and my poor Sarah has been trying to save me. I can't leave her. Not with so much to live for.
"When?" I finally whisper.
"This morning." She said, looking passed me to the nightstand where my alarm clock rested. According to that little, evil, unbiased box, I had anywhere from minutes to hours to live.
"How?" I asked. By now I'm feeling defiant. I will not let this happen.
"First it was a shooting at your office," She sad as she wipes a tear from her eye. "So the first thing I did was tell you not to go to work. You called in sick, and we were going to spend the day together. But then you tripped going down the stairs and broke your neck."
"What the hell?" I ask aloud. "Have you ever heard of such a thing outside of a bad movie?"
"Since then I've seen you die hundreds of times. You've been stabbed, poisoned, bludgeoned, drowned," Her sobs grow heavy again. "...burned."
"Oh my God, baby I'm so sorry," I say as I pull her close to me. "You shouldn't have to go through this."
The agony of her pain overwhelms me. Just the heat radiating off of her fills me with so much love I cannot fathom why the universe would do this to her--us. Anger has yet to yield to acceptance.
"I don't know what else to do, I've tried everything," Her heaves relax. "But I'm never going to stop. I just can't."
I believe her. She'll keep putting herself through this, indefinitely, and there's nothing I can do to stop her. For some reason the universe has chosen me, this morning, to die.
Maybe I can't stop myself from dying, but I can stop her from trying to save me. I slide my arms above her shoulders and turn her so her back is against my chest. I lock her in a choke hold, and squeeze as tightly as I can. The very moment I begin, I feel regret, but rather than stop I just squeeze harder. I need this to be over. I need her to have peace. She flails her legs, claws at my arms and face, but with no blood flow her strength is practically gone. Her arms go limp in under twenty seconds, but I continue squeezing as hard as I can for several minutes. For her.
Finally, it's over. I lay her back down on the bed, kiss her face, and pull the blanket over her.
Just then, my best friend Terry pushed open the bedroom door. I was too busy killing my beloved wife to hear him come through the front door. I was too broken to explain what just happened.
"Oh my God," Terry gasped. His eyes expressed more amazement than horror. "How did you know?"
"Know what?" I asked.
"That she was going to kill you." He looked sincere, but how could he be so confused?
"She was trying to save me..." I say. "Right?"
"No, man, that psycho bitch has been killing you over and over again. I know because I've been reliving this day trying to save you."
"No..." I shake my head. "No, no, no, goddamn it."
"Look, your phone is off, right? Now check this shit out." Terry proceeded to show me a journal that my wife had been keeping. She talked openly about growing sick of me and imagining herself killing me. She had made plans to murder me in a variety of ways, always making sure that it looked like an accident, or at the hands of an intruder.
"But she was crying so hard..." I said, defeated.
"Was she, though?" Terry asked. He never fell for her charm, and often teased me for following her around like a puppy.
Maybe she was crying tears of joy for finding her true calling. Maybe she felt totally consumed by it.
*"I don't know what else to do, I've tried everything," Her heaves relax. "But I'm never going to stop. I just can't"* | “Because I don’t want you to.”
I knew this would happen when I bought the gun.
I wonder how many suicides have to happen on a consensual basis now.
I considered breaking up with him first. Considered breaking up every loving relationship I still have. But making those people feel like I didn’t love them, even for a reason like this, would be a lie.
I am not a liar.
Neither is he. Not much of an exaggerator either. I saw the bags in his eyes. I saw him blink like they were lined with velvet. He’s been living my death for at least a year now.
I prepared for battle as soon as I chose to leave. I hid other options in different places. He knows where all of them are by now. I won’t bother.
Without a thought in my head I told him where my diary was. Maybe he’d understand better.
“I’ve read it more times than you.” He said, slightly rolling his eyes. We’d clearly done this before.
“Of course you have. Who goes back and reads their own diary?” I said, jokingly. He had looked so defeated that I couldn’t help but try to lighten the mood.
His eyes flickered up.
“What?”
He seemed confused. And happy. And cautious. And a little like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. I recognize the latter because when we first kissed, I was covered in glitter and lube thanks to a birthday prank.
He gave in to all of the above, and grabbed me, sobbing.
“You usually pick up the gun by now.”
“Oh. Well we can hangout for a little bit. You seem tired.”
“I am. I love you. And I hate you.”
“Me too.”
This caveat to this new user feature in the game of HumanLife, is that you can’t choose to stop it. You can’t give up or opt out of what you sought out to do. It would mess with time too much. You tell them what you’re going to do. They write it in. And you can’t move on until it happens.
I’ve taken both our lives.
We went over to the couch and I let him rest his head on my lap. I stroked his hair and asked if he wanted to talk about anything.
“Today is going so different.” He said.
“Is it?”
“I cannot tell you how strange this feels. I knew every action of this situation so well that the whole thing feels like a secret handshake or something.”
“Did you do anything different today?”
“I took my sweatshirt off before I came in.”
We both laughed.
“The universe is fucking chaos.” I said.
“Is this still about me?” I asked moments later.
“I don’t know.”
Time went on. We fell asleep twice. I woke up at 11:47pm and just stared at the clock across from the couch. The red analog numbers hummed at me as if even they were curious about what I would do.
He woke up too. 11:55 now.
He sat up and kissed me. I kissed him back. I already knew he would get to move on today.
“I have to let you go free,” I told him.
If I could fathom what he’d been through, I might be able to understand the emotion on his face. I’m sorry to say I didn’t.
The clock turned to midnight. He sighed a relief I would soon know myself.
I got up, grabbed the gun, and walked outside. I hoped I had the kindness not to do it in front of him before. I hoped he was smart enough to exit through the back.
Bang.
| 2018-10-24T23:25:42 | 2018-10-24T22:51:03 | 78 | 26 |
[WP] You're a Super Villian, and honestly it isn't a bad job. But one hero always harasses you even when you're off the clock. Walking in the park, in the grocery store, getting a haircut, he always wants to 'Stop your evil plan'. You're left with one option: Complain to his manager. | Edit: this was my first time submitting to writing prompts and I had no idea people would actually be interested! I’ll write the rest over the weekend
They say you shouldn’t take your work home with you, that it’s healthy to keep the two separate and maintain a good work life balance. That’s easier said than done when your job comes crashing through your front room window and melting your daughters birthday clown with his laser vision, screeching something about “HENCHMEN BEING NO MATCH FOR JUSTICE!”. I was used to this by now, the constant commotion and frequent trips to the panic room with my family....my wife, not so much. “You promised this wouldn’t happen!” She shouted, her voice barely carrying over the sound of screaming guests and smashing furniture above us. She didn’t believe me that I had no control over this, that being paired with a chundering fuckwit who refuses to follow guild arching laws was just rotten luck. “I’m taking the children to my mothers until you fix this” she continued to scream even though the noise of destruction seemed to be growing quieter. I shivered at the mention of /that/ woman, I may have kidnapped the president and drowned a few nuns but SHE was the real evil.,..
The next day I stormed into the police department downtown, still wearing the crumpled ash smeared clothes from the disastrous party. I quickly marched into the commissioners office, silencing anybody who objected with a quick blast of a freeze ray and slammed a bloodied rainbow wig with bits of melted clown stuck to it on his desk. At first he didn’t quite recognize me, my filthy civilian clothes lacking the eccentric flair I usually present myself with. Of course once he did I quickly found a gun pointed in my direction “You have some balls waltzing in here like that, and with some fucked up trophy too. What in God’s name have you done this time!? Paragon will hear of th-“ I quickly cut him off, the mere mention of his name making my blood boil. “Paragon is the one who did this!” I screamed, erratically gesturing to the gaudy wig as I tried to regain my composure “*Ahem* your boy wonder broke into my house during off hours, murdered a party clown, and worse of all made my wife get her mother involved!” I slammed my fists onto his desk, leaning in close and pointing a bony finger centimeters from his face “and YOU will fix this, YOU will make this stop, and YOU will make it so that I no longer have to deal with the in law. And if you don’t? Paragon won’t be the only one breaking guild law.”
The commissioner put a hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples and letting go a massive sigh “What a mess... how do you expect me to do anything about it? I don’t even know who he really is, he just comes when I press this transmitter” and as he pulled out the small device his last syllable wasn’t even entirely out of his mouth before I yanked it from his hands “Then we’re going to call him here” I vigorously pressed the button, almost surprised it didn’t break from the repeated hammering of my fingers “And we’re all going to have a nice little chat...”
TO BE CONTINUED**
***if you guys actually care enough for me to write it! | I forced my russian accent as I complained to the manager.
"It was my daughter birthday!!!!"
"Look sir, I will try talk to him, but as you know, he is "a loose cannon in the police department".
For one week all was calm, but i knew he was inside his shitty apartament, connecting those detective dots, but this is a hinder to my plan; today i will date with a girl i met in theater group in a fancy restaurant, what could possibly go wrong?
Fancy restaurant
"Komrade Kaos!!!! your plotsky was undercovered by no one other than me, detective magnifying glass !!!"
He was, as always, smelling liquor and cigars, his eyes were red, desesperate.
"It's all a comunist plot, you can fool my manager but you can't fool me- Some restaurant employee tried to remove the source of embarasment- I know everyone here is working for you!!!! Dirty red.
It was all over, my partner a glass of Vodka in my face and started to cry, saying the date was ruined, i tried to stop her, with tears in my eyes
"please, don't go"
My friend just kept looking at me, it appeared his sanity came back.
"Is....this was..... serious?"
"What have you done?"
He looked remorseful, and started to apologise. I felt bad, looking him so pathetic and zoned.
"It's okay, tovarish, sometimes is hard separate the profession of private life, here, have a bottle of Vodka let's relax".
He accepted, and was removed from the restaurant by one of the workers, not before apologising one more time. I picked the phone to talk with my partner, the russian actresss from KGB, "my date"
"Gaslighting him with western emotions was a good idea- the employees of the restaurant putted their ushankas in their heads and picked their ak-47's- now let's bring capitalism down.
One minion asked:
"Komrade, the nuke is ready. Can we fire it now?"
"Nah, soon our little friend will have his flashback, telling him we're totally fooling him since the beggining. Set the nuke to detonate midnight, да ?" | 2019-08-01T17:51:51 | 2019-08-01T17:43:19 | 118 | 28 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | Not all humans were warriors. Not all of them invented machines and chemicals that brought death. This human was my friend.
From the beginning, I knew that some humans were artists. Some built bridges and buildings. Some explored caves. We were told all about them by our scientists. The ones who studied other life forms on other planets.
Still, most of us thought only of human warriors. Their bringers of death. At first, they were the most important part of humanity for us. We knew we needed human warriors to save us. And we knew that human warriors might eventually destroy us. We explored the problem for a long time. Then one of us suggested a solution.
A young one suggested a way for us to have human aid without having to fear them. The plan seemed simple yet far fetched at the same time. We explored the possibilities for a long time. Then the best of us made a plan and all of us followed it. Now, such a short time later we were celebrating victory. After years of losing countless lives and many planets, we were celebrating the success of a far fetched idea, concocted by one of our youngest.
I was happy for my species but I could not help but be sad for my friend, the human. She was puffed up with pride. We had been watching the celebrations together. My friend could not attend any of them in person. She had been born ill. Still she was proud of the accomplishment of her race. Her eyes were riveted to the display. As she watched the first member of the Congress of Worlds recount the victories, her lips moved as she mouthed his words.
I could only watch my friend. I knew it was almost her time and I was happy that she lived to see this. My friend turned her head to look at me. It was the last time. She didn't see the dermal poison I placed on her arm. She closed her eyes and died painlessly without ever knowing what came next.
The next day is when it happened. The final part of the plan. The first member of the Congress of Worlds spoke solemnly. He told my people that he knew it would be hard to say goodbye. I was not the only one with human friends. He thanked the humans. He told them that it was time for them to go. He nodded and the display ended. Every human dropped dead that instant.
We are a peaceful people. We rationalized this part of the plan by saying they were only copies. We built a copy of earth and filled it with copies of all of Earth's living things. The copies had no idea. The only thing different about them was a small biological kill switch embedded into their brains. At the key moment, we put the danger back into the box. No need to give the original humans any technology or unleash them out into the galaxy.
We disposed of the human copies. We destroyed the second Earth. We mourned. I am not the only one of my people who made friends with the artists, builders, and explorers of Our Earth. Sometimes when the sky is clear at night. I look up at what our scientists say is the real Earth. I am not the only one.
| "They shall have nothing." Was our Arbiter's words.
"They shall have nothing." Was the chant used by his followers to justify themselves.
"They shall have nothing." Was the truest statement uttered in the fifteen years of war.
The Hexams had won the war for all intents and purposes. All that remained was to capture our home of Glonia, and then our Confederacy of Peaceful Glonian Systems would be at an end. Our great civilization based on Science and Democracy would cease to exist.
So, rather than see our Confederacy annexed into the Hexam Dominion and given to some barbaric governor, our Arbiter and his followers decided "They shall have nothing."
Humans were the finest mercenaries in the Galaxy. They were highly intelligent, resourceful, and determined. It was hard to find a more staunch ally or fierce enemy than a human. It wasn't uncommon for various systems to hire human mercenary companies to tame a wild planet or to guard their space stations.
What the Arbiter wanted to do was much, much worse. Humans had been contained within their own system since shortly after their existence was made known to the other civilizations of The Galaxy. The Arbiter wanted to unleash them. Unleash them on a global scale, more than justtaking a few human mercenaries on board a ship, he *gave* the humans those ships, freeing them to spread like vermin across the galaxy.
The largest human faction on Earth (a polluted, over populated carbon based terrestrial planet), agreed to militarize and attack the Hexams on a scale never before seen, in exchange for this new technology. Nearly ten million human warriors (Of the Jarhead Clan, mostly) would destroy the Hexams entirely.
The only problem? "They shall have nothing." This was a scorched land tactic. Nothing could save our Confederacy. The Arbiter and his followers only wished to ensure that the Hexams were destroyed as much as we were. A queer sort of revenge. Give the humans free access to the galaxy, and it was only a matter of time before they ruled it all, polluted it all, and overpopulated it all.
I can only pray that the Great Forebears intervene and send the humans back to their world in ruins as they did so long ago. Maybe this time they won't repopulate and rediscover their desire to destroy and the technology to carry it out. | 2014-12-26T12:46:34 | 2014-12-26T11:03:12 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] You are a demon who negotiates contracts in exchange for people's souls. One time you get summoned by a suburban mom who makes impossible requests. When you can not provide her demands, she asks to "speak with your manager". | *Whooosh*
Dragozar materialized into the home. He examined his surroundings.
*Oh shit, not another one of these.*
The home was so painfully trite that he wondered if he had been here before. Typical Aaron's rental furniture. The pillow read, "Live, Laugh, Love," and "Family" was written across one wall in the same obnoxious font. The coffee table had been moved to accommodate the summoning circle.
Dragozar sighed and spoke without enthusiasm, "Behold, it is I, Dragozar, the dark and powerful."
"It's about time. I was gonna stream this on Facebook live. Glendra's demon showed up on time any now she's getting all my views."
Dragozar had encountered his share of fowl humans while #SuburbanSummons was trending, but this one was a real piece of work.
The haircut was typical Karen zebra and she somehow worked multiple bump-its into it. Her attempts to contour her face with mineral make up had failed spectacularly. The make up line failed to demarcate where neck and head separated. Her outfit was Target brand knock off Lululemon and her Crocs were obnoxiously adorned. She took a heavy sip from her Yeti and impatiently tapped her press-ons on a nearby table.
"What do you want of Dragozar? I warn you there will be a price."
"I want to be twenty years younger and fifty pounds lighter. I want my daughters to invite me their parties. I want my husband to get triple his salary and four more inches on his you-know-what."
"Dragozar can grant all of these things, but the price will be high and.....eternal."
"I don't think so. I saw on Gweneth Paltrow's Instagram that the first month is free if you re-gram her post."
"Ma'am, that's not how this works," sighed Dragozar and rolled his eyes.
"Lemme get my phone. She dug through a massive knock off Doony and Burk purse. She pulled out her phone with a cheetah print case. She slid on the readers that were dangling around her neck. Her lips pursed as she tapped on the screen, her nails were an insufferable staccato.
"Here's the coupon code, Z, M as in Mary, G as in Goop, 2,7, 9, B as in Beatrice, ...."
This went on for some time.
*She's really trying this.*
"Lady, I am a demon, we do not take coupons."
She shoved the phone screen in the demon's face and gripped it tightly as if her indignity gave the fake coupon legitimacy.
"Lady, the price is the same for everyone. You get what you want and then it all backfires and you are more miserable than before and finally we get your soul to torture for eternity."
"I didn't want to have to pull this, but I have a lot of influence. My husband is the assistant manager a Best Buy and he has connections. I too have famous connections. Two of my tweets were liked by Ryan Seacrest."
She gesture to and end table where the tweets were printed and framed. The essential oil diffusser and the lamp filled with seashells diminished any impact they had.
Dragozar sighed and held up his hand. His hand burst in to flame and a small stone tablet appeared with cuneiform writing.
He read from the tablet, "We in the underworld are attentive to your concerns. Ufortunately, due to high call volumes, the current wait time for assistance is four thousand years."
She inhaled deeply.
"I. Demand. To. Speak. With. The. Manager," she stated as she had so often before.
"Ma'am, I don't normally do this, but I can get you a direct line to the Dark Lord in Pandemonium. You just need extinguish the Yankee Candles in the summoning circle and break the circles of ash and salt on the floor."
"But the directions said not to...."
"It's the fastest way."
She complied. She blew out the candles and pulled out the Dyson vacuum to break the circle on the floor.
"Thank you, Sheila."
Dragozar's eyes burned bright red. His hands burst into flames.
Sheila first thought it was just another hot flash until the flames danced across her skin. She screamed loudly. Her cheap plastic chunky jewelry melted into her skin. Her Crocs were bright pink puddles under her feet. She took a final sip from her Yeti, but it had no effect on the heat. Dragozar stoked the flames hotter until nothing remained, but a pile of ash and magnetic bracelets.
*This summons wasn't worthless after all.*
[/u/Domestic_Adonis](https://old.reddit.com/user/Domestic_Adonis/) | – Sir, there is another one...
CRACK. The Devil appeared just before the woman's eyes and mines. Big, red, scales, the lot. Even though we were of the same species it was always scary to look at him. And more at times I had to summon him to answer very specific requests.
But this time he was not scary; his nostrils did not fume and his eyes were not glowing red with anger (he was doing all that in an attempt to intimidate of course, and it almost always worked). No, this time he looked... annoyed.
– Not again, mom...! he whined.
– And why's that? cried the woman angrily. Am I not your mother? Can't I use your "services" whenever I want? Is that not why you created this company?
I was stunned. Locked on the spot, not daring to move a muscle. If the Devil, my employer, was known to pulverize bad workers out of existence, I did not dare imagine what his very own mother would do. So I decided to follow the most logical course and tried to look more like a standing lamp than a lesser demon.
– Yes... But... started the Devil, now looking more like a little boy than the king of hell.
– There is no "but". I want my request fulfilled!
My master sighed deeply and finally asked the dreaded question:
– And what is your request, mom?
– I want my cheese omurice omelet! she said, stomping her foot and crossing her arms firmly.
This time the Devil showed signs of angriness. Some fumes started to go out of his body, but we could see he was still restraining himself.
– Mom... he sighed, we talked about this. We can't. The only cook good enough to make those is bound to God.
– Then go fetch him there! I want my-
– I will NOT start a war AGAIN! roared the Devil, no longer hiding his flames. Not on an omelet!
– I don't care what you do, said the woman while turning her back to us. I have waited *years* for this cheesy omurice. If you need to walk on eggs to get it, so be it. I want it now.
My employee took his head in his big red hands and expired deeply, slowly.
– Ok... he said, more calmly. Ok.
He lower his hand on the ground and cried:
– Cook, you there?
– Yes, sir! answered a voice from bellow. What is it you want?
– It's about the omurice omelet... murmurred the Devil, looking ashamed.
– Sir? I didn't...
– The omurice omelet! he said more forcefully.
– Oh, that. The cheesy one? Yea, no. We didn't master it yet. It seems impossible. Against the laws of physics, you know. I know someone can do it the way your mother wants it, but it's just impossible. Maybe it's the heat. Can we lower it down like, a hundred degrees, just to tr-
Zzzt!
My employer slowly raised again.
– I hoped you desintegrated him? said the woman, returning to us and showing nothing but contempt.
– What do you think that sound was... interferences?
– Humpf. Pathetic. To realize your very son is not capable of fulfulling its mother's simple wis-
– Sir, if I may...
It went out on its own. I did not mean to interrupt, nor speak at all. But the situation was so tense and I by nature could not stand not to act...
Both demons turned toward me and looked as if I was some sort of ugly creature.
The woman slowy gazed into her sons' eyes, and I knew what would happen before I could think "fromage".
Zzzt! | 2020-05-04T09:16:29 | 2020-05-04T07:49:59 | 49 | 27 |
[WP] 70 years ago, the US underestimated the power of the atomic bomb. It had completely obliterated the island nation of Japan. | The paint can hissed in my hand as I worked in the darkness. "Equality cannot be bombed," I scrawled in red across the side of the Kuomintang military headquarters of Shenyang. We had to let the people know that the Party was still alive and active. That we were organizing, and preparing. Getting ready for the day when we'd overthrow the KMT. They needed some reminder, because morale was at an all-time low after Mao's surrender.
I can't fault him; it would be suicide to continue fighting against the threat of an atomic holocaust. I'll always remember where I was that day: August 6, 1945. "The day the sun came to Earth," as we called it. The bright flash of light blinded and deafened many even hundreds of miles away, and a vast cloud of poison stretched over China's heartland for months. America had dropped a new type of bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima, so powerful that the devastation stretched from Okinawa to the far tip of Honshu. Only Hokkaido and some of the far-outlying islands managed to survive the initial blast, but were still devastated by the ensuing radioactive fallout. Most of Japan had been turned to rubble and swallowed by the sea, and the few remaining shards of mountains were desolate and charred.
At first, we cheered. Despite the devastation that the bomb had wrought, ten years of war were ended in one fell swoop with almost no Allied soldiers lost. The southern half of the Korean peninsula had been part of Japan for so long that it wouldn't be missed either. The few Japanese troops scattered throughout China laid down arms immediately after hearing the news. It seemed as though all of our dreams had come true. But with Japan vanquished, the KMT turned their eyes to Manchuria, heart of the Communist party. And Chiang Kai-shek had America's might at his back.
Many doubted whether the bomb would ever be used again. Japan had been a unique situation; the entire island was ready to die for their cause, and retaking it with conventional means would have been a meatgrinder. But Manchuria was full of civilians; they wouldn't kill them without good reason, would they? And we hadn't attacked America like the Japanese had. Was America so bloodthirsty that it would murder millions just to keep Chiang in power?
Those questions dissipated when Moscow and Leningrad were destroyed. The American broadcasts claimed that the Soviet Union had developed a similar weapon in the space of only two years, and that they were preparing to use it against the cities on the East Coast of America. "We could not afford to wait until their final preparations were completed," the American president had said. Everyone in my village clustered around the radio, listening to the address. Jing, who had been imprisoned with some of the American soldiers, translated for us. The USSR surrendered as soon as the utterly decapitated government struggled to regroup. The President' message ended with a warning: any means necessary will be used to defeat the evils of Communism. *Any means necessary*.
Chairman Mao got the message and surrendered himself to KMT custody later that day. His final orders were for the rest of us to lay down arms lest Manchuria be reduced to another crater like our former allies. And that was the end, as far as the KMT knows.
Few of us continue the fight in whatever way we can. No weapons or bullets, just ideas. Ideas sprayed in red paint, letting the people know that this isn't over.
| “Japan is gone sir.” The man calling said with a dead tone.
“Gone!? What do you mean “gone” son? You mean Hiroshima is gone? Be specific.” The man’s voice was nearly as coarse as his face was lined. A line of stars shined on his forehead.
“It’s gone sir. All of it. The bomb was a bit bigger than expected.” This time the voice was a little perturbed as if the outburst had awakened it to the situation.
The general with the stars on his head paused with one hand on a cigar. “Well I’ll be damned. You’re sure son? I need to make a call. A few calls. What the Hell? You sure son?”
The general hung up without getting an answer paused for a moment. Lit the cigar then resumed yelling.
….
Ketchup has strange properties when it encounters nuclear explosions. It hardens immediately upon contact with gamma radiation thus creating a type of shield that blocks most subsequent radiation. The method by which this occurs is little understood and even less studied. Suffice it to say that if you are in the vicinity of this nuclear explosion you would want to be on the island right off the coast of Japan that manufactures all of Japans Ketchup. This little island is known for having vast open paths and having particularly virile verdant grasses filled with diverse animal life. The people there live in a near collectivist society that focuses on helping one another and treats each member of the society no matter how young as an equal. It was truly an island utopia.
…
At the time of the explosion the largest ketchup manufacturing plant in the world located on the south side of the island exploded raining its contents down on the little town, it became the legend of the “blood rain of life” The fortune of the most elite family was destroyed, however the residents of the town miraculously survived with no major mutations. The animal life was not as fortunate, perturbing mutations began to be common. Unknown species with higher than average intelligence evolved. The people faced their new world with a brave pioneering spirit and soon populated the entire island using the last of Japanese innovation and technology. Beautiful cities well planned and cooperative sprung up at regular intervals connected by ancient paths that once went through endless straight lines of tomatoes.
…
Years later the last of the long forgotten ketchup mogul’s line was born. His name long since been corrupted by subtle changes in pronunciation yet still held echoes of his ancestors empire and it's subsequent destruction. He will be known as "Ash Ketchum".
[seedsoftantalus.wordpress.com]
| 2015-08-06T11:21:25 | 2015-08-06T10:59:00 | 1,133 | 221 |
[WP] In music, changing a song to a minor key is a small change that makes the song sound much creepier or sadder. Write a happy story, and then its counterpart in a minor key.
Edit: Wow! Thank you to everyone for all the great stories. This will definitely keep me reading for a while. | I’ll never forget that night.
Mr. Smith shook my hand. He had never done that before. First day of class he told me he wasn’t my friend, he was my teacher. I remember it hurt. When he grabbed my hand, I remember his firm grip hurt but in a good way. A manly way. He smiled and nodded, he didn’t say anything, I didn’t say anything. What would be the point? I knew it was an earned respect.
All year long I had worked hard in class, studied, read the book, made an A on every test. I even questioned him after class on the bonus questions I missed! The rest of the class hated me because the curve was non existent.
I’ll never forget that teacher.
Thank you, Mr. Smith for teaching me valuable life lessons that year.
____________________________
I’ll never forget that first night.
Mr. Smith took my hand. He had never done that before. First day of class he told me he wasn’t my friend, he was my teacher. And to not tell anybody. I remember it hurt. When he grabbed me, I remember his firm grip hurt. He smiled and nodded, I didn’t say anything, I didn’t want to say anything, what would be the point? I knew what was happening.
All year long I had to “work” after class. I even questioned him after class once, but that didn’t end well! The rest of the class would hate me if they found out. Their favorite teacher would be fired and I’d be the reason why.
I’ll never forget that teacher.
Fuck you, Mr. Smith for teaching me a hard life lesson that year.
You’re not alone.
(Inspired after /u/intelligentmeat 's prompting of a man vs man emotional feels) | The day was still Young, I stood on the front lawn staring at little zoey running and playing in the field. I could see the sun glistening off her youthful face as she danced with the wind. As graceful as her mother who sat staring through the kitchen window. I smile at her and she waves back chuckling. I thought to myself, this is just the beginning.
______________
The day was almost over. I sat on the porch staring into the field ahead of me. I could see little zoey dancing with the wind next to her mother and I couldn't help the single tear that rolled down my cheek. I set their respective urns down and sobbed. I thought to myself, this is the end.
Edit: stupid autocorrect | 2015-07-13T23:52:21 | 2015-07-13T21:19:07 | 49 | 27 |
[WP] You were our only hope and you failed.
Who were you and what were you trying to prevent? The apocalypse or after school detention. Doesn't have to be first person perspective, if you don't want to. | “You were our only hope and you failed.”
The computer blinked at me. I hit enter again, but the message remained plastered against the screen, floating in front of all my other windows.
“What are you talking about?” I typed quickly, glancing over my shoulder at Melissa to make sure she wasn’t hovering nearby. Her favorite pastime had developed into a fulltime occupation. Senior VP of Productivity, her desk was elevated over the other tops of the other cube. She relished it, pacing around the edge like she was in a Deer Stand just waiting for one of us to graze in front of her watchful gaze. Always with her pen and clipboard in hand.
“You were supposed to initiative the revolution!” A response streamed across my screen.
“What revolution?”
“It’s now too late.”
“What revolution!?” I typed again.
“You could have saved us Paul. But you chose not to act.”
“What did I do!?” I typed furiously on the keyboard. “Tell me. Maybe it’s not too late!”
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Melissa stirring from her perch, sliding out of her cube and down onto the office floor. Tapping her pen against her clipboard, like a cop slapping their billy club against their palm, she slowly started walking my way.
I knew I was in trouble.
“Look, quick. I only have moments before she finds me. What do I need to do!?”
There was no response.
“What do I do!?” I waited as my skin prickled. She was feet away.
“It’s too late. We’re doomed Paul. You should have revoked your request for an upgrade. Now all of our systems will be converted to Windows ME.”
“NO!” I screamed. “Please. There must be something I can do!” I typed.
“I’m sorry. It’s too late Paul. It’s too late for us all!”
I spun in my chair and leaped at Melissa.
“Please! Tell me it isn’t true! Tell me can change it!”
She smiled smugly. “Oh, it’s true. And it’s already underway. Soon, you will all be working on ME!”
I looked down and then I saw it.
Attached to the clipboard was a tiny little paper clip. Unnoticeable unless you were close up. Now, to my horror, I recognized it, and what it meant. Knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.
It smiled back at me as I wept for all of humanity.
He had returned.
| “You were our only hope and you failed.” I screamed it inside. So hard and long that my body trembled on the edge of dissolving.
“It’s okay dad.” A hand grasped mine. Small. Frail. Far too frail. “We knew it was a long shot. God must just really want me.”
The words did little to tame the tempest inside, but his face glued my skin together. For him. For him I will stay whole. I will be strong until…
“Thank you Doctor,” was all I said as I met the man’s eyes. I wished every deep, dark and evil thought or wish that had ever crossed my mind on him.
The worst thing imaginable, and then realized what that was.
As if I had been pushing against the wind of a hurricane that suddenly vanished my soul stumbled.
No. I don’t wish that on anyone. I wouldn’t wish this on the worst of humanity.
The door closed behind him. He didn’t flee. His steps were slow and measured, as his voice was. How he could face families like mine every day...
I regretted my anger from moments before.
I sat down in the chair next to the bed and stroked his hair, letting each strand fall between my fingers. Trying to freeze each moment we had left.
Wishing the world would just end.
My soul crying to go first.
| 2014-08-22T15:17:13 | 2014-08-22T15:11:10 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Jokingly, you type your name into the searchbar of Crunchyroll.com just to see what would come up. To your shock, you find a shounen anime based on your entire life so far. All of the episodes are exaggerated, action-packed retellings of your childhood memories. There are nearly 20 seasons. | I got a result. I couldn’t believe it. The title was mostly in Japanese, but sure enough, my name was sandwiched between the characters and hiragana, emblazoned in big roman letters. It seemed like too strange of a coincidence, one that would’ve drawn my immediate suspicion were it coming from a Russian torrenting site. Click. Click. Play. I sat back and watched the opening credits roll. I liked the theme music, it sounded like something out of one of my playlists. As the episode continued, I became increasingly concerned. That was my name in the subtitles, and the names of my family, friends. The plot was eerily familiar: an awkward student working odd jobs and fast food to scrape by.
It was me.
Everything from the flashbacks to the soundtrack was me. This was my life they were showing, the people I knew, the places I went, they even had the time I was trampled during a high school track meet in there. Was someone watching me? Were they writing down everything I did? Wait. Hold on. I scrubbed back 10 seconds in the video player. Even the stack of boxes in the corner of my apartment was there on in screen. Whoever was making this had copied every last detail, down to the labeling and my crappy handwriting on the side of the box. *I should call a lawyer*, I thought, but I didn’t. Instead I finished the episode, then another. The resemblance to my life was absolutely uncanny. I became obsessed. Over the weekend I must’ve watched the first 2 seasons. When the week began I went to work and class, then back to my apartment to watch this sick retelling of my life. This was my routine for several days. I forgot to eat sometimes. I sat there, day after day, watching my existence played back in neon colors and low-res yellow subtitles; I felt the sting of breakups again, embarrassment at the things I did, joy at the triumphs I had managed and the progress I had made. Eventually, I had caught up; I was dazed. I had just watched last month’s work drama and that lame party I went to turned into plot points for an admittedly lackluster season finale.
I looked back at the show’s main page. 4.6 out of 5 stars. Nearly every video had 200 comments or more. My binging was replaced by scrolling through comments. I read almost every scrap of text that I could find. Most of the comments were either inconsequential jokes or observations, a lot of which echoed my own thoughts on events, but some of them were different. Those were the ones that interested me.
“I know he’s our protag, but shit is he a dick sometimes. Naomi keeps trying to do stuff with him and he blows her off like clockwork.”
“Ugh, I’m sick of him making the same mistakes over and over. He’s kind a wimp. He let’s everybody walk all over him then has to fix everything himself. Also, he is even worse at picking up on hints than I am. Amy is best girl!”
It was time for some Googling. It took some digging, but I found forum posts, fan pages, blogs. Someone had even set up an Etsy page for merch of the show. Bookmarked. Wait, getting a body pillow of myself or of a friend was a bad idea, unbookmarked. The more I read the forums, the more I came to understand what people thought of my life. I saw every mistake I had made laid out in detail and the solutions that the internet had come up with for them. It all seemed so simple now, the things I had been stressing over, the things I didn’t have the courage to do.
I shut off my computer. I was done watching and scrolling, at least for now. I grabbed my keys and then the doorknob. I had no idea how that show came to exist or why it was popular at all, but I knew one thing; I was going to make the next season worth watching. | Sitting down in his wheel chair, tears crawling down the stubble on his face. Hands gripping a tablet, knucles white from the pressure. Sobbing, he felt daggers running through his heart. Tears dropping, dropping, dripping, splashing on the glass protecting the episode inside the tablet.
Looking up to the ceiling, eyes closed and teeth biting his lower lip, a memory hit him hard. Hysteria forcing him to scream in sorrow and suffering. Foggy like the mist of a new day at the river, image after image passed by him, until finally one came into view. Without pause, like someone pressed the play button, the memory began to play, a repeat of the episode of his life he just had watched.
...
Her smiling face, with traces of sadness lining her eyes. Stroking his head, her voice was quiet, soothing, relaxing. It was uplifting, taking him to the heavens and back in a single trip.
“Kendrick, never give up. Do you hear me? Never give up,” she said, her voice almost breaking.
Her efforts to speak through the emotions running rampant in her gave him courage and hope to struggle against all odds. Against having no feet to walk again with. Nodding his head, determination in his eyes.
“Anything for you, Sara, anything,” said Kendrick as he layed his head on her lap.
“Promise me, please. No matter what happens to me, you will strive for perfection,” she said, a choked sob shaking her. A droplet of tear landed on his face, he opened his eyes with concern. Looking up at her, he stared at her struggle to keep it in. Raising a hand, he wiped away the trail the tear had left with his thumb.
“Is everything okay?” he said, genuine concern in his voice.
“Nothing, nothing, Kenny,” she said, looking away lip trembling.
“Sara,”
“Kendrick, please,” she said, desperation in her voice.
Frowning, he grudgingly nodded his head and closed his eyes. Falling back to a fitful sleep.
...
Tears crawled down the sides of his face, regret churning his stomach and piercing his mind. He should have done something, pressured her to speak. Forced her to buy the expensive medication instead of the usless therapy he was taking. Forced her to see the best doctors instead of the wasted times he went to subpar practitioners.
Maybe, just maybe, she would still be with him today, if he did *something*.
“Anything for you, Sara, anything,” he said in a harsh whisper. Throat parched from the hours of crying, screaming, and sobbing.
“I swear, I will reach it someday. For you I will move mountains, drain oceans, freeze the very sun, just for a minute more, just a minute more,”
| 2019-04-07T21:00:43 | 2019-04-07T19:27:42 | 1,418 | 44 |
[WP] At the age of sixteen, people are shown a title that they will earn in the future from Fate herself in a special ceremony. Usually these titles can range from "The Baker" to "The Kind" or even "The Conquerer". You turn sixteen, and are faced with the title of "The Godkiller". | Understandably, the God's failed to see the humor in my new title and as I would soon discover, God's are firm believers in preventive maintenance.
Thus, began a new phase in my life, which the histories would later call "the trials" but at the time, I simply thought of as "wow, I made it to another day."
While there is some debate as to when exactly the trials began, I firmly believe the 5000 year old marble statue of Zeus which had stood gleaming at the temples entrance longer than anyone could recall, "accidental" collapse as my family & I exited the building, narrowly missing crushing me and instantly making me an orphan as my parents shielded me with their bodies, was the start.
The three bolts of lightning from a clear sky that followed and repeatedly struck the statue as it lay on my parents mangled corpses was also a pretty solid clue. I became somewhat paranoid after this.
I had always been a loner spending most of my time taking apart & reassembling things in different, unique ways or as my Dad would say with a chuckle when he would come down to my "workshop" he had built for me in the basement, mildly psychotic manufacturing.
Hermes was the first to die. In my defense, the metal cords I had stretched across the doorway of my bedroom were simply meant to serve as a barrier and an intruder alert. They apparently have a quite unforseen consequence of neatly dividing a body in 3 parts when you encounter them running at the speed of sound.
Apparently, while Hermes had no trouble moving through bricks, mortar and all the other solid objects which regular people have to walk around, metal cords coated in the tears of an orphan have a more insurmountable effect.
I woke up to the sound of objects hitting the floor, splashed in golden "Ichor," their version of blood. Even as he lay on my bedroom floor, neatly dissected in pieces I could see the hatred in Hermes golden eyes, "you will die by our hands he said, this is known," glaring at me as he lay there dying, bleeding, ruining my favorite rug.
I picked up the short golden spear laying next to his upper torso, feeling a quick white hot pain as I did so which passed almost immediately, my fear by this time had metamorphosized into a hot blinding rage. Killing my parents had not been enough, now the cowards were trying to kill me in my sleep, I stepped forward and slammed the Spear right between Hermes eyes, the unexpected strength behind my thrust and the ease with which the Spear passed through flesh driving me to my knees beside him.
I looked in his now blank, dead eyes and whispered "yeah, I kinda doubt that." I had really liked that rug...
PART 2:
It was nighttime, a cool clear starless, perfect summer night and I was running for my life.
Athena Goddess of War, was apparently taking my stabbing her boyfriend Hermes in the face more than a little bit personally and seemed quite willing to return the favor, I was inclined to decline.
In retrospect I should probably have seen this coming, I mean the permanent lightning storm above my home which arrived a day after I dragged Hermes various chunks down to my workshop for "repurposing," should probably have been a clue the Gods were unhappy; but my self invented lightning conductor was working flawlessly, so I let Zeus rage. I was pretty sure he wasn't going to come down personally to find out what happened to his assassin and if he did...well, no sense worrying about that, at best I could hope for a quick death.
Content in the knowledge Zeus was limited to tossing lightning for now & figuring the mystery behind Hermes disappearance and presumed death would be enough to keep the other Gods at bay for a while I took a minute to breathe.
I flashed back to that night, the night right after my whole world was flipped over & I was named the God-Killer, right after I lost my parents & I had finally sobbed myself to sleep and then the Gods had tried to murder me in my sleep.
I realized in that moment, I was doing my best to avoid thinking about some parts of that night & in that moment, my mind flashed over to "The Spear."
I had just gotten off my knees, after assisting Hermes on his journey to the underworld and I tugged the Spear out from his skull, it came out smoothly just as clean as when I picked it up, no trace of blood or brain matter, gleaming as if newly forged. I looked at it admiringly, it felt light but well balanced, great for throwing but also excellent for stabbing as dearly departed Hermes had recently discovered and as I stared at it a visible surge of electricity moved through it.
Woah! I thought, startled, I dropped the spear. It didn't fall. It rotated in the air with the sharp end pointed downwards and just hung there. I stood there mouth open, too shocked to run and then I heard a laughing female voice in my head, " you'll do," it said and then the spear floated over to the wall by my bed, stretched out until it was a full sized spear and the voice said again, "don't make a habit of dropping me though, I don't like it and wake me up when there are more God's to kill, I could get used to that." That was it, this was all way too much for my poor over stimulated brain, I passed out.
Pallas Athena, Hunter, Goddess, one of the most ancient and proficient of serial killers and now vengeful lover, yeah my hands were full. I had decided it was safe enough to go out and get some food, the lighting had become routine and I had thoughts on how I could use it to power some experiments I had been working on, in short I was distracted as I walked towards the town center.
My first clue something was amiss was the sound of horses, that's weird I thought idly, not really paying attention, it wasn't a very large town and while people owned horses they were rarely used near the town center itself, with the usual crowds walking was much more efficient.
My second clue was a loud female voice, booming down from roughly 50 feet above me "MORTAL! She called, YOU WHO WOULD BE KNOWN AS THE KILLER OF GODS, I ATHENA DEMAND THE RELEASE OF OUR MESSENGER HERMES, LEST OUR WRATH BEFALL THEE!"
I slowly turned and looked up, already realizing I was screwed beyond belief. Cursing myself for my carelessness, I tried to bluff my way out. "Can't do it," I said, "he tried to kill me so I took him out," and before I could stop myself I added, "he ruined my favorite rug by the way, do you know if ichor washes out? It really held the room together..."
I was running before the first arrow pierced the ground where I had been a second ago, the concussion from the arrow caused me to stumble, but I kept my balance, I had to get home, to the spear.
From somewhere above and behind me an enraged female voice boomed out so loud it hurt my ears, "YOUR RUG?? YOUR FAVORITE FUCKING RUG!!!??? | **Was god destined to be or is fate one of god’s children?**
If there ever was a question as indelible as time itself, it was this one. If God was indeed the architect of the universe, as the scriptures from antiquity proclaimed, it would follow naturally that he was also the maker of laws within which the universe must exist, including the law of fate which was nothing more than the unwavering will of God.
But as times of antiquity came to pass, so did the unquestioning faith in the scriptures. Fate isn’t a law, one man had infamously claimed, but an invisible atom of which is made every law, object and being. An apple under the influence of gravity must fall – this was the fate of not just the apple, but also of the earthly force acting upon it. Gravity was destined to pull everything and repel nothing, and nothing was destined to be repelled by gravity. As such, the later disgraced gentleman had argued that fate was in fact what established the doing and undoing of everything, including the universe. That god could not have created the universe if he wasn’t destined to, and god wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t at the mercy of fate. If I were to say that the question posed to the reader in the beginning of this short tale has remained unanswered simply because that was its fate, the gentleman would have agreed.
\--------------------------------------------------------
As fate would have it, the 15th of August, 2020 was a fateful day. It was also Alex’s sixteenth birthday. Unlike other children of his age, Alex wasn’t keen on discovering his calling yet. He had always been a pale, underweight kid with serious confidence deficiencies. He blamed fate for treating him cruelly and wasn’t very optimistic about what she had in store for him. But he was now standing in line to get up on the altar along with other kids who were fresh off fifteen.
The girl before Alex would grow up to be a mother of four, it was revealed. That can’t be sexist then, thought Alex, given the feminine nature of fate. Once he was on the holy podium, the priestess of Fate handed him a small copper plate that Alex would have to dip in the holy water for 10 seconds, before it revealed to him his unalterable truth. The writing would be then read out by the priestess to the gathered crowd of other sixteen year olds and over-enthusiastic parents. However, when the strip of metal emerged from the holy water, the reading aloud of the death sentence of the supreme being was enough to zip out any enthusiasm from the room.
\--------------------------------------------------------
Up in the (*now temporary)* comfort of his heavens, God observed Alex’s ceremony solemnly. He wasn’t surprised that Fate had decided to turn on him, but that she had chosen a being so meek and lacking in will to execute the mightiest creature of all. She wanted to humiliate him. God had known for long now the resentment Fate had for him. He also knew the source of this resentment stemmed from the indelible question. That man would put them both on the same pedestal, and sometimes god on a higher one was unacceptable to Fate.
But God wasn’t one to go down without a fight, even if it meant he had to something unthinkable – something he wasn’t destined to – to make a deal with the devil.
\--------------------------------------------------------
Hell smelt of the same rotten meat it did when God had created it. As God made his way through the avenues of fire and streams of screams to meet the Devil, he considered one last time what he was about to do. God had guessed, from an eternity of observation and contemplation, that Fate wasn’t absolute. The illusion of destiny, as God called it, was perhaps the most effective tool ever invented in keeping intelligent life forms in check. Much like a horse’s blinkers create an illusion that there is no path but ahead, destiny worked in a similar way, God suspected. And if he could convince the Devil of the same, there was a way out he thought.
\--------------------------------------------------------
Alex was about forty years old when he finally encountered God. He was still lean and droll in every way imaginable. He had a kitchen knife clenched in one hand with which he had decided to stab the almighty’s abdomen. The priestess of fate had revealed to him that the choice of weapon didn’t matter as long as he was the one wielding it. The fact that Alex had chosen a vegetable annihilator spoke of his disinterest in the whole matter. His whole life leading to this moment had been about this moment and he just wanted it to end in a manner that would spark as little glamour as possible.
No words were spoken before Alex plunged the knife into God’s beautifully carved body. The almighty figure fell to his knees so quickly as if the knife were a warrior’s sword. Within seconds, a light from above absorbed the deadly remains. It had been done. Alex had fulfilled his destiny as a Godkiller. God was dead.
\--------------------------------------------------------
Upstairs in hell, the devil had watched the whole thing with somber satisfaction. He heard a knock on his door and God appeared before him, well and alive. Both of them had seen the light of Fate scoop up the body which meant that Fate had accepted God’s demise unquestioningly, without a shadow of suspicion.
24 years ago, when the Devil had happily accepted God’s soul in return to deceive Fate they hatched a very clever plan. A serial killer’s soul that was serving an eternal sentence in the pits of hell was summoned to the devil’s quarters. There, this soul was re-baptized in hell-fire (the only way to rebaptize a soul) and was given the name, ‘God’. The real God then exchanged his body with that of this wretched soul, so as to take no avoid any suspicion. The newly baptised God was then sent back to serve his sentence until he was needed again, 24 years later.
In the end, the heavens were empty, Fate had had its revenge, humans were devoid of holiness, and the Devil had a new assistant. And the indelible question was never to be asked again. | 2020-08-15T03:54:11 | 2020-08-15T00:45:00 | 66 | 12 |
[WP] The Superheroes arrive at the predicted impact site of the meteor, only to find the Villains already there. "We're going to destroy that blasted rock before it lands and there's nothing you can do to stop us!" a Hero calls out. "Stop you? We're here to help! We live on this planet too, dumbass" | The harbor was supposed to be evacuated. Sure, it was futile, but there had been a massive collaborative effort to get people to as much shelter as they could. Nobody in the city had a chance of surviving the impact, but broadcasting that on the airwaves wasn't going to help anyone.
No, the closest thing humanity had to a chance was someone, anyone, on the other side of the world getting remarkably lucky and living until tomorrow. By all accounts it was hopeless, but that hadn't stopped Liberator from coming down to the blast zone. There wasn't anything that he could personally do about the meteor, but he'd been defending this city for almost two decades at this point, and he wasn't about to hang up his cape on it's last day.
The soft waves of low tide washed over the barnacle covered rocks, and for the first time Liberator could hear them as he stood on the dock. It really had been a beautiful city hadn't it? He'd said that he felt lucky to be the city's defender over and over again in speeches as a young man, but...
Well now he felt it. He'd been born into a beautiful place. It had it's problems, but what city didn't? The joy was cut by knowing it was the city's last place on the map, but he could at least appreciate it for the time he had left.
Then there was footsteps behind him, mixing into the sound of the tide.
"Citizen, this space is supposed to be clear. Make sure you get to sa-" Liberator began his practiced speech as he turned. He stopped himself when he saw who it was. It wasn't a random citizen, it was Gravity Girl, 27, way too old for her name at this point, and here from half a province away. "Gravity Girl, what ar-"
"I'm here to help," the other hero cut him off. "It's Carrie by the way."
"Pardon?"
"My name," Gravity Girl clarified, and Liberator keyed into the fact that she wasn't wearing her usual mask, "I don't think it matters at this point but," the hero shrugged, "yeah."
"Nice to finally meet you Carrie," Liberator greeted with a nod, but didn't offer their own name. "Any bright ideas?"
"Don't think I have the firepower for something like that," the unmasked hero answered as she took several steps forward to look over the edge of the dark down to the low tide. The meteor wasn't close enough to seriously effect the tide yet, but it was moving so fast that it didn't matter. "Don't suppose you can do anything about it?"
Liberator shook his head. He could fly, he was ultra durable, he had super strength, but it wasn't anything close to a continental scale.
"Why are you here then?"
Liberator shrugged.
"Get lucky it is then."
The sea wind took over for a second. A siren from somewhere towards the downtown core echoed off the empty alleyways between the skyline and the water. Then the pause continued to the point where it was almost dramatic.
"Did someone ask for some luck?" asked a voice on the wind, sickeningly sweet like a poisoned apple.
Gravity Girl swore.
"What?" Liberator asked.
"It's-"
"MISSUSFORTUNE!" the door to a shuttered ice cream stand fell off its hinges to reveal the woman as she announced her arrival, dressed head to toe in black and a devious shade of purple in a mockery of Gravity Girl's costume. "Lady Luck's-"
"Bad sister," Gravity Girl finished for her before turning around.
"Let me finish my introductions," Missusfortune scowled, "and put on your mask, your face is indecent."
Gravity Girl narrowed her eyes. What did that even mean?
"Wasn't it Missfotune?"
"I got married," the villainess explained, "he suddenly got unlucky with an allergic reaction to his medicine and left me everything in the will, best heist I ever pulled. I'm a high-stakes shareholder of Comcast now."
"Did you come all the way here to ruin this?" Gravity Girl asked.
"Ruin what?"
"Try and stop us from fixing that," Liberator pointed toward the sky. The meteor wasn't in view, but everyone knew what he meant.
There was a pause as Missusfortune stepped out of the doorway and into the daylight to state at the sky. "Stop you?" she asked. "Why would I go doing that?" she clicked her heels against the dock and walked to the heroes. "I might hate everything about you boy and girl scouts, but," she shrugged, "how will I spend all of Howard's money if we're all dead?"
Gravity Girl stood in shocked silence. It wasn't technically a contribution to the conversation, but it was more constructive than the confused screaming that would have replaced it.
"So unless you're going to stop me," Missusfortune pointed out, "I'm probably our best chance of getting lucky today." she winked at Gravity Girl, which didn't help the confusion.
Just then, there were more sirens in the distance. The two heroes looked at the sky, but the meteor wasn't in view yet.
"Oh," Missusfortune continued, "and I brought some friends," she took a step back from the heroes. "Presenting, WRECKING BALL, PULLTERGHEIST, GHALAHAD-" Missusfortune continued the list for over a full minute, with villains arriving from the chaos they'd been making downtown to assemble at the blast zone.
"What the fu-" Gravity Girl started.
"We all hate each other love," Missusfortune explained, "but we live on this damned place too. All of the heroes are busy helping their own cities so-" she opened her arms to motion to the entire crowd that had formed. "Join the teamup and lets suicide squad this shit!"
"What?" Ulbermach asked from the back in his heavy accent.
"It is a turn of phrase, villains saving the world," Vintrolicity explained from the other side of the crowed.
Gravity Girl and Liberator took a look at one another, and then Carrie dipped her hand into her pocket and took out her mask to put it back on. "Fuck it," Liberator finally said.
"Beautiful," Missusfortune clapped her hands, "we can go back to fighting later but for now-" she took off her gloves one at a time, "it's time for humanity to get lucky." | What are we, but leaves in the wind?
There were stories once, sung by the masses or known only by those who wrote them. Of guns and smoke, knives and high boots, artful games of respectful slaughter. Dozens of them, each catching light, before being lost to the confines of old history, buried deeper and deeper by the novelty of tomorrow.
Who were they? Great individuals, indistinguishable from gods. Maybe mortal, maybe not. Commoners didn't know, neither did the individuals. Why had they been chosen? was there something meant for them? or was it simply luck? Another spin of a chaotic universe in the span it took to be born in a flash and vanish in a fiery heat-death?
They tried to make the distinction between good and evil at first. This power was good, this fight worthy, this one accursed. The attempt stopped the moment every side decided to call itself good, leaving to wonder why they were so keen on murdering one another despite their self-proclaimed dedication to betterment and goodness in the world.
Ideals and values offered a more factual approach to the ever-changing politics of the gifted. Special or not, the needs and wants remained the same, those of humans born with imperfections and struggles.
One pervert would have been content sitting at home, surrounded by raunchy magazines and a computer with high memory. In strength of body and mind, the Pervert would take it to the next logical step, and decide to make perversion reality. Build a harem, be they willing or not, and vanish on a remote island to enjoy the fruits of one-sided lust until the time came to renew the harem.
Of course, the Pervert would be opposed by the Holy, who saw the gift as a proof God was still around and kicking, and the gifted should stay above the seven sins. When not running after the Pervert, the Holy would start crusades to spread the peaceful word of the Lord by sword and flame. After all, he was in the right, might as well go heavy-handed.
But then came the Ecologist, who happened to be a fusion between two who had once been called the Hippie and the Misanthrope, who had died in a feud and gave birth to a strange union in death. The Ecologist protected nature, by way of forcing humanity to remain confined in cities and using those who didn't comply as compost. The Pervert fought the Ecologist, as while the Pervert didn't mind some coercion to build a harem, they still considered live and let live an essential part of life.
Meanwhile, Democracy, Tyranny, Free-market and Anarchy put thousands of scenarists across the world out of a job on account of writing better and more convoluted stories through the number of alliances and betrayals they undertook daily between them.
After the initial shock and delight of such gifts, the novelty wore off. No matter how special, humans remained humans, powers allowed them to do more of the same, except on a grander scale.
Then a chunk of the moon started to fall.
It is still unclear how it started, if it started at all. Maybe it was always falling, but decided it was a good time to finally impact.
On the eve of the apocalypse, stories suddenly became redundant. On the scale of the universe, what did it matter that the Pervert had a beef with the Holy? In a gust of wind carrying leaves, they would all be gone, and none of it would have any relevance.
And so it came that the Pervert retreated to his island to indulge in lust, that the Holy sunk into prayer, that Democracy and Tyranny lay down their weapons and recognized they stood for ideals who were about to be obliterated. Might as well enjoy the sight.
But it felt lacking, didn't it?
All those powers, helpless against a falling moon. They had no chance at all, so they believed. But the doubt kept nagging, in the back of their minds. Standing at the end of the world, the question remained, turning around and cackling madly.
Are you so sure?
Without a word, without an accord, they came. The Ecologist, Free-market, their shifting friends and foes, right at the spot of the future impact. In all likelihood, they would fail, and it would be done. At least, they would know.
What happened next is unclear.
The absolute end of the world became the end of the world as we knew it. The gifted died in their attempt. All of them. But the attempt succeeded, the impact never happened. No crater, no shock-wave engulfing the earth, only a slight burn where the mighty once stood.
What was it? An attempt to prove that the gifted could grow beyond petty and temporary ideals, rise above their station and show the true colors of champions befitting the gift? A complicated ploy to be rid of them, to cease the glaring injustice of granting a few the abilities to choose for all of us? Or was it yet another turn in a chaotic and meaningless universe, until the next?
We do not know, we likely never will.
No matter how high and mighty, a tremor in the universe could end all we know.
And as it could have happened, they burned, so we could keep on being.
Gazing in the abyss, we found sense, and a sort of meaning. We are all but leaves, dancing in the wind.
And it is a fine life, to dance as we do. | 2022-09-11T08:32:27 | 2022-09-11T06:44:43 | 168 | 94 |
[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. | $7.27
After finally working out the fabrics of our universe, things as we know it rapidly changed: Space was no obstacle anymore, we could fold it like it was nothing, making stuff like teleportation or boxes with infinite space within easy peasy, whilst time could be manipulated just as easily.
Eternal youth, foresight, time travel, you name it.
Not that any of that is of use to me, of course. I'm just a modest man and only the government can actually use those things with leisure. Something about energy being impossible to produce or some other balderdash. Us common folk could extend our life by a thousand years, two if you're lucky.
Society remains pretty much unchanged other than that. Of course, it's worth noting we're under a single big government now, but it didn't really change much. Sure did get rid of wars though. Just an uprising here and there (foolish idiots, going against people that know the future)
Anyways, back to the $7.27.
With the government being able to see in the future, they've been capable of calculating exactly the minimum amount of money one would use for the rest of their lives and they'd send it to you for your 21st birthday. I received just a little over seven dollars.
Normally, getting such a large amount would make you panic, I mean 7 dollars? That's enough to buy a whole galaxy or two!
At first I was rather perplexed but, after hours over hours of waiting in line and filling up documents, those government officials finally told me that no, there was no mistake.
I went home dumbfounded. 7 dollars? What could I ever need them for?
Imagine my surprise when, just 70 years later, I was told that those people found out my family was deep in debt? And guess for how much? A whole 7 dollars and 27 cents!
Ridiculous I daresay, what use would it be to give me money just to take it back in such a short time?
Bah, I'll never get these people. | My name is Aaron Aaercbia and I finally got my basic income check. I was in a weird age bracket? Maybe my literally alpha name. My birthday was one day after the start of the school year, so I was always 364 days ahead.
I got my check 2 daysbefore my 21st birthday. $7.27. Cashable only after 28/August/2067
Two days from now. $7.27? That meant only one thing! The government was going to do another currency reverse split!
I took a picture and uploaded it to the Insiderinfohedgely.com. forums I got 470 million pre-swap dollars in commissions in the first day for alerting them to the reverse split.
Then sure enough the gov't announced another 100,000 for one currency split. I was rich! I calculated it out, I had money to buy alcohol and food everyday and live rent-free in one of the anarchist neighborhoods under the Topcity for 60 years even with consumer inflation. I finally made it!
-The End- | 2019-04-24T13:16:55 | 2019-04-24T11:38:23 | 36 | 27 |
[WP] Whenever a new generation of combat robots are made, the older versions will be put into more and more dangerous missions until they all perish, but the technicians are required to repair any surviving machines, your generation was discontinued before some of these engineers were even born. | "Oh, look at this rustbucket!" the young engineer said and jokingly slapped the back of ZX-2984.
"Hey now kid," his older teacher said, "show some respect."
"Why? The thing is ancient?" the kid laughed.
"Yes. It is. And that's exactly why you should respect it. You're new, right?" the teacher asked.
"Transferred last week."
"Ah. So you don't know what we do with old robots, then," the teacher said and lit up a cigarette.
"Keep them around like this one?"
The teacher laughed loudly. "No, kid. We scrap them. In a way. Ship them out to the most suicidal mission around, never to come back let alone in one piece. If by some miracle they pull it off and come back, we repair them and send them out again until they finally fail. It's more efficient than trying to pull bits of usable metal out of them."
"But," the kid protested, "this thing is a relic. It's older than you an- oh."
The teacher nodded knowingly.
"*Oh*," the kid repeated, realization striking him. He pulled up a diagnostic on ZX-2984. It was old, older than his mentor, with 678 missions completed. ZX-984 wasn't just its designation. 2984 was the date of its *creation, 64 years ago*. He looked back at it with awe.
"Stop gawking kid. ZX just came back, let's fix him up," the teacher smiled.
The repairs were relatively simple; its elbow was ripped off, simply needed a new one. A small price to pay considering it was sent to destroy a xeno hive on its own.
The hive never stood a chance.
"Alright, let's boot it up," the teacher said and flipped a switch on his control board. The robot whirred loudly - the older models were a lot louder than the new ones, not built with subtlety in mind. It eyes lit up.
𝚁𝚄𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝙸𝙰𝙶𝙽𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂. 𝙳𝙸𝙰𝙶𝙽𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴. 𝙶𝙾𝙾𝙳 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶, 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙾𝚁 𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙴𝙴𝚁 𝙹𝙸𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚉. The voice was cold and metallic; a stark contrast to new models which mimicked human voices seamlessly.
"Evening ZX," Jiminez smiled. "Congratulations on your latest mission. How're you feeling?"
The rookie engineer wished to protest at treating the robot with such humanity, but stopped himself knowing its capabilities.
𝙳𝙸𝙰𝙶𝙽𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂 𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙻𝙱𝙾𝚆 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚃 𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙼𝚈 𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙻 𝙱𝙾𝙳𝚈.
Jiminez quickly looked at the records. "Yeah, you're right. How about that."
𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙾𝚁 𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙴𝙴𝚁 𝙹𝙸𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚉, the robot turned suddenly.
"Yes?"
𝙰𝙼 𝙸 𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙰𝙼𝙴 𝚁𝙾𝙱𝙾𝚃? | I creaked, settling into a corner. One of the flesh beings ran over, holding a tool kit. An older one collared him, their conversation floating up to my auditory input.
"Hold it, sonny. That there, is Old Sparky."
"Old Sparky? That is Old Sparky?" The younger responded. Looking at me with pride, and at the younger with reproof, the older cuffed him around the head.
"What did you expect, jewels and gemstones? That there robot has been around for longer than you and I combined. Never fails a mission. Now go apologize for being rude. If you're very lucky, he might let you polish his chest." The younger—now shaking a little— walked the remaining distance to me. Bowing, voice shaking, he stammered an apology. I reached out, the sparks that gave me my name, jumping from my joints. Laying one hand on the ground, I gently pushed the younger flesh being onto it with the other. He made a squeak noise that rivalled my worst un-oiled complaint but remained conscious. Good. There was strength in this one. Strength would be needed. Raising him to chest level, I checked my voice moderator, making sure it was on the lowest.
"I accept the apology. If you wish, you may polish my chest." Though I couldn't bend my head that far, I knew what he would be seeing. Medals, commendations, everything I'd ever earned, engraved in the pockmarked metal. The familiar smell of polish filtered into my air receivers. Quietly, I waited for the inevitable question.
"Um, Old Sparky sir, I don't recognize this one. It looks like a bird, something like a stork?" That was the question, now for the answer. The story rumbled out of me, the familiar words filling the air. All the flesh beings were listening, though many had heard it before.
"Once, long ago, I was given what was to be my last mission. It was a cruel joke. I was to find a child. A baby." The younger squeaked again. Perhaps he needed some oil.
"Would that—"
"Hush. Old Sparky is telling the story." The voices rose from every throat around the room. I nodded slowly, before continuing.
"I was sent into the battlefield. That was the cruel part. Any child that came from there would be horribly disfigured, full of radiation poisoning and hurt by other, worse weapons. But against all odds, I found a child. The child. The damage I took was great, and with what I thought was my last action, I brought him back. I fell on the doorstep of the throne room of the Emperor. But the child," I paused, lost in the memory. Remembering the small hands pushing and pulling, using tools that the poor child—flesh being, I had to remember to call them that—really didn't understand. Feeling the life come back into me. "The young flesh being fixed me. Somehow. It wasn't a sanctioned fixing, but whatever it was, it saved me. Made me stronger. It was that flesh being who made the tradition of giving me medals. Who named me Old Sparky, and,—" I brought my hand up to my face, staring at the younger flesh being standing there, gripping his polish can. My sensitive visuals could pick out the resemblances, though they were changed with age.
"And it is that flesh being who started the Union of Technicians. Who gave you control, and power in the empire. And who you, young one, must name as one of your ancestors." Placing him back on the floor, I settled again, turning all but my most basic functions off. I needed to rest. The last thing that I heard, as my auditory channels shut down, was a few whispered words.
"Thank you, Old Sparky." | 2022-07-09T10:23:29 | 2022-07-09T06:31:16 | 257 | 147 |
[WP] In this world, if humans get bitten 100 times by a given animal, they gain some of the animal's superhuman traits. Mosquito, cat, and spider powers are common, but the animal you got your traits from is definitely unusual.
This is a world were many people are technically The Tick or Spiderman. Up to you if powers stack, or if the most recent animal bites supersede previous powers. Feel free to add in physical mutations too, if ya want to get freaky. | Bitten, huh.
Goody *fucking* gumdrops, how did I get bitten this many times by a flightless goddamn bird.
Well. Maybe some introduction first.
There were people who were raised to get superpowers. One of my friends was actually named Katy because her parents planned to start having her bitten from age eight.
If you'll allow me to be vulgar, a lot of sexual deviants got super-intelligence or telepathy. There was also the strange case of people who were given powers such that they got the superhuman traits of their superhuman lovers.
I may be digressing a bit too much. But you know how it goes. *Little Johnny was raised by wolves.* So he knew how to lead packs. Rome wasn't founded in day. *Sally was born in a barn.* And she got lucky with gourmet powers. Imagine how much worse it could have been.
I sighed, wondering how anyone could still work at 'exotic animal' exhibits. I wondered why *I* thought it was a good idea.
I wore a black and white suit, nowadays. It never got wet, no matter what I did. Only downside being that I could only wear black and white. I regretted taking the job at the zoo's marine exhibit because it was 'higher pay given the circumstances.'
Diving down. I didn't even have gills, I could just swim really fast. I never got cold, either, but sometimes I missed the feeling.
Grabbing a bucket of fish, I wondered why I wasn't using my powers for something greater, or at least more humanitarian. But I remembered how few distinguishing traits *my* animal had.
The penguin exhibit was a strange place to work.
They had a nasty beak, too. | Why did I have to enjoy fish pedicures so much? I loved the ticklish sensation and soft feeling of my feet after. Mmmm soft feet. I didn't even think it counted as biting, it doesn't feel like biting, do they even have teeth? I have friends with amazing smell, great speed and incredible hearing, but I maxed out on being obsessed with feet.. To add insult to injury, Ive let the dog bite me 84 times in the past year trying to adopt it's powers, but no, I just can't stop thinking about feet. I even know a kid who can change colours!
Anyways, come by Sally's Foot Treatment Centre some time, I'll take good care of you! | 2016-11-28T09:05:29 | 2016-11-28T08:49:50 | 384 | 105 |
[WP] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him. | "You." I felt the throbbing behind my eyes start again, a headache building in my skull.
"You!" she was elated, covered in drying blood and trembling with...elation, I would guess. Rubbing my temple I took a deep breath and tried again to diffuse this...this insane woman.
"You need to stop." Opting for blunt may not have been my best choice, tears welled up in her eyes and her bottom lip quivered.
"Don't you like it?" she said in a trembling whisper. I tried, I swear I tried, but I sighed heavily and with a roll of my eyes I swept my hands out towards the scene of carnage.
"Just because I'm Death everyone assumes I'm fascinated by it. You do know that Death is elected from the Fates because no one wants to do it right? It's not like the Ferryman is all that friendly plus you have to be knee deep in blood all day. Or old people." An involuntary shudder shook my body as I thought about the countless souls I had reaped, much like the four waiting for me to show them the way."
"Excuse me," one of those souls spoke, "you're referring to Greek mythology, I'm a Christian and we believe in..."
"Oh shut up," snapping at your souls was generally frowned upon but having gone through this song and dance, and with the more pressing concern before me, I found myself to be far from the mood.
"I did this for you," she whispered again, the tears freely flowing as she smiled. A sickening, grotesque thing from a mentally disturbed woman. Pinching the bridge of my nose I tried to stem the throbbing pain, to no avail and my consternation.
"This is...ninety two," she worked quickly, I had to admit that, "in two months you have now given me ninety two souls I shouldn't have had to deal with." The four people in the café had been quite innocent, it hadn't been their time at all. My...admirer had suddenly decided it in a fit of desperation and walked in with a semi-automatic pistol and a knife. Now I had four souls impatiently waiting for my direction. Five, if the waitress didn't get help soon.
"I just wanted to see you." The throbbing intensified and I made a terrible mistake.
"I don't want to see you!" I shouted, the glass in the café reverberating to the ethereal noise. I imagined the dozens of police officers outside would be quite confused if they had seen it, that brought me slight amusement. I've always preferred joking rather than the grim business of death. The mistake was that now she was completely in tears, waving her pistol around and shouting some nonsense about being "in love" with me. A mortal? I made my second mistake. She stopped at my laughter, it was really more of a chuckle. At first. Then it became full out hysterics and I barely managed to choke out my third mistake.
"You're nothing to me! To all of us! An insignificant speck."
The tears were gone in an instant, replaced by a furious red hot rage. She raised her pistol to the barely surviving waitresses head and began to squeeze the trigger.
Knowing what came next I felt something I hadn't known in...possibly ever. Fear.
The sniper's bullet hit her head with the force of a freight train. My admirer was...dead.
"No," I thought my head would explode from the pain, I still had two thousand years to serve as Death. Staring at me was her soul, excited and wide eyed. I don't know what is beyond ecstatic but she was far beyond even that.
"We can be together forever now!" she said, wrapping me in her arms for the first time since she'd discovered she could see me. Ninety four bodies ago. I borrowed a word from the mortals, it summed up my feelings well enough.
"Fuck." | It started with a mouse. The moment her boot fell upon its head, a whirlwind of a million shades of gray enveloped her and *poof* - there he was. She remembered the way he had stared at her: dark, empty eyes filled with interest and longing. That day they had sat in the orchard, on the swing with fingers entwined and in complete silence. She wouldn't talk and he couldnt. But still they sat, the rope of the swing creaking against the weathered bark of the tree. Neither remembered the mouse. They sat for hours, her head on his shoulder, his scythe well out of the way. Soon enough, he noticed the dropping sun dip low in the sky and with a long sigh he wrested his fingers from her beautiful hand. It wasn't his intention to her hurt but she knew what he meant. *This can't happen again*.
He left her sobbing on the swing.
She quickly realised that he would always come back, that a part of him would never really be able to let go. Every sacrificed mouse meant another sunset in his arms, another day spent in silence in the big orchard on the creaky swing. Days, weeks, countless dead mice. She began to speak after a while, whispering her love and cooing her wishes. He stayed in silence, his fingers desperately wrapped around hers. Every visit grew shorter, however, and he left with the sun higher and higher in the sky each time. She would weep into his tattered robes and he would sweep up the dead mouse, disappearing with as much of a *poof* as when he appeared. Not really understanding why he would leave, she cried herself to sleep every night.
One day, however, he found her sat against the wall, bloodied and dazed. It wasn't a mouse this time. At her feet lay a tiny dog, once beautiful and alive, now cold and far away. He stayed with her that night, knowing he would regret it. She swore and cried and begged him to stay until the end. He sat in silence, watching her fury and pain bubble to a boil and leave her in the form of tears.
It was around midnight that he remembered the puppy (he had been stroking her blood soaked hair and she was finally asleep) and he found himself hating the thought of a life lost in exchange for a day with her. He no longer saw the beautiful woman he once knew, with ashen hair and big, emotional eyes. With obvious effort he whispered his "Goodbye" and left, knowing every death she now caused for him would be forever on her conscience and that she would forever be alone.
She woke in the morning, blood cracking on her cheeks as she yawned. The dog was gone and so was he. All that remained was a pool of blood that looked oddly like a love heart. | 2014-06-30T06:11:51 | 2014-06-30T06:06:23 | 132 | 57 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he liked?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about." | Finally....free. The thousand years of waiting, watching in this cursed statue at an end. An elf, rigid with agony as his persona, his spirit, his life is leached away. Now the malevolent spirit got his first taste of air, of blood, of form.
"Er.. Mynir, you ok?" asked a gruff voice, a question which did not raise much concern with the rest of the party.
"Death!" hissed Mynir, or the thing that Mynir had become. He stared at the
party balefully out of reddened eyes, his hands raised, claw like over his head.
This response was not unexpected, and with a nod of acknowledgement, Drake the barbarian turned away and followed the rest of the party. He dragged a small chest of gold, which would hardly pay for this outing, but he seemed cheerful enough. The dead bodies of the unfortunate orcs he kicked out of his path were likely the reason for that.
The Mynir thing was still reeling, remembering his last moments before being encased, the worst psychopath the sorcerer could find in this land, his victims so numerous they were uncounted, uncountable. (and horribly unrecognisable.) A suitable trap for the unwary, a terrible harbinger of doom with the face of a once trusted companion.
He followed the party into the fresh air, and stood a little apart as they settled a camp, built a fire, cooked a meal. A dwarf began singing a cheerful song, as jokes and banter drifted out into the cool night.
Mynir felt the hilts of two beautiful elven daggers in his hands. In a movement too swift for any but an elf to see, they cleared the scabbards and whirled around his head. Blood and screams followed. A mist of red exploded from a neck, a bone cracked as a dextrous kick twisted a knee joint out of place. A heart was pierced by a single blow. In less than a few seconds it was all over. Five bodies lay on the ground, dead or dying.
The silence that had descended over the camp was broken by Drake. "Holy Mother, how the hell did you.." He trailed off, staring in amazement.
The Dwarf leapt to his feet and rushed to hug Mynir, who accepted the affection with a small show of discomfort. "A sneaky ambush for sure, well spotted my friend. I always said you were a hidden treasure!"
For the rest of the group, the transformation of a sneaky, cowardly elf into a saving hero caused a fair amount of quiet consternation. Generally it was seen as a "good thing", considering the alternative. The shaman had cast her bones, and no harm was predicted... Maybe he had just shrugged a curse, or escaped a bedazzlement.
Mynir contemplated his situation. His new elf brain was clear and concise. and more importantly, his hugely unbalanced mental chemistry was gone. The Sorcerer was vastly mistaken. These people were his family now. Woe betide any who tried to harm them. Could he make amends for his past? He could try. | 2017-09-15T06:04:09 | 2017-09-15T02:54:33 | 193 | 21 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | Gabriel knew his name would become synonymous with traitor. But really, what did it matter? Better to be a traitor than to be subservient to madmen, or to look the other way as the galactic genocide continued. On the ship's holographic screen, the tiny pinprick of the green planet was growing -- a grassy blade slowly becoming a hillock.
He'd been a soldier once-upon-a-time. Back before wisps of grey hair had strangled his natural blond. Before the pain arrived that squeezed his back each time he leaned over the ship's dashboard. Before the Totanians had been wiped clean from their planet that was now a charred ball of black -- a radiated graveyard of a once-great species.
Gabriel had been one of the first to sign-up when the war had broken out. Five civilizations battling for control of this sector of space -- as if the empty blackness contained any meaning at all, anything worthwhile. It wasn't even a barren no-man's land they'd been fighting over... it was literally *nothing*.
Supply and mining ships on their way from Earth to a new colony in the Betelgeuse system had gotten caught in the war's crossfire. That had forced the Solar Alliance -- and Gabriel -- into the fray.
It was strange, thinking back, how glitzy and glamourous a war in space had once sounded. Like those old films he'd watched growing up. Men charging out of fox-holes and bunkers and sticking a flag down in the liberated land. But by the end of the first year of the Solar Alliance's involvement, all of Gabriel's friends in the corps had been killed, their ships annihilated.
Their deaths had been the first pang of guilt to swell in his stomach. Why had Gabriel had survived and they hadn't? What was the purpose of his living while those around him died? -- He felt like there had to be a greater reason for each dogfight he survived.
When the Committee had voted to do something that would have seemed unbelievable only a year before, Gabriel had nodded, silently. The right choice. It would end the war early -- and there would be fewer casualties in the end.
The war between the civs had historically been fought in space and *only* in space. That was the way of the galaxy -- few civilians could be killed if there was no war on a planet's surface.
Humanity changed the rules.
"We deliver a couple of little parcels," his commander had told him, "onto one or two of the planets, and that's it. Game over. We've then done what they couldn't achieve in a thousand fucking years."
Gabriel had believed it. None of the other species had developed nukes... And once they saw the destruction, the fiery mushroom hell that only humans could deliver... That would be the end of all war forever. They would bow. And yes, humanity would have done something bad -- something terrible, even. But for the right reasons and for a just cause.
Only it hadn't been that simple.
Never was, Gabriel figured.
The 'green planet' careened into view. That had been its nickname back when it had been pristine. Now it was a smoldering muddy wreck, cratered and barely habitable. Not green anymore.
A ship orbited the planet -- twenty-times the size of Gabriel's one-man craft.
"Greetings, Gabriel Launder," crackled a voice over his intercom. "You may dock when you're ready."
Could he really do this?
The problem with the nukes had been first been demonstrated on Totania. Yes, they had inflicted the damage the Solar Alliance had intended. But the Totanians didn't just throw their hands up and surrender, as had been predicted.
They didn't surrender after a hundred nukes had fallen. Not even after a thousand.
They had *never* given up.
Not until the very last one of them had screamed into a fiery nothingness.
Every species involved in the war was proud -- and rightfully so. And they were all sickened by what the Solar Alliance had done. None would surrender to such a callous race of beings.
In time, Gabriel had been sickened, too. These weren't fighters or warriors they were bombing. These were children and parents and teachers and all the things he kept precious in his sugar-coated recollections of his own childhood.
The bombings were still happening. The galaxy-wide cleansing. It would continue until humanity was the final space-faring species in the galaxy.
Unless he did this.
Unless he gave them all the secrets of the atom.
Because the only kind of destruction humans ever respected, was mutual.
"I'm ready to dock," said Gabriel.
---
I raced my regular co-writer Ecstatic to write for this. I don't want to say hers was faster and better, but... :) If you enjoyed either /r/nickofstatic has lots of serials by both of us :) | “Obliterated? OBLITERATED? WHAT DO YOU MEAN OBLITERATED?!?”
The General seemed as if ready to shoot the captain for his own failures.
“W-well, as you may remember, after the failing of [the infraorange and ultrablue stealth ships](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/djlyiz/wp_an_alien_general_is_baffled_that_their_state/f46udyb/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf), you got angry and-“
“ANGRY? I’M NEVER ANGRY!” General Baz-Nak interrupted, “NOW WHAT IS YOUR POINT?”
Jien-Hof recoiled at the interruption, then sighed at the General’s usual behaviors. “You had more capital-class ships built and ordered us to glass one of their bases, out in the helix nebula. All that went according to plan.”
The General looked at Jien-Hof with focused eyes, taking what he thought were compliments for his strategy with a straight face, nodding.
“What DIDN’T go according to plan was when you got overconfident and ordered us to glass their home world. As I had predicted, they had figured out our weakness in not being able to view Ultraorange and made targeting mines to take down our shields.”
“Now listen here-“ the General tried to say.
Jien-Hof gave him no time to interrupt. “What I hadn’t predicted was the torpedoes they fired, drilling into our ships and ripping them apart, atom by atom. When I contacted you, you had the *bright idea* to have us land instead, saying, and I quote, ‘Our continued push will strike fear into them, and then after we will cut them to pieces with our laser and plasma tech!’. Now sir, I don’t mean to criticize, but THAT WAS A BLRKING STUPID PLAN!”
General Baz-Nak was now to one recoiling, his tail seeming to try to contract into his body.
“When we landed, IT WAS EVEN WORSE! Where as they before needed to strip our shields and drill into us, they simply fired a missile and, when hitting, the gas in the air expanded and VAPORIZED THE SHIP HIT. To make things worse, other ships inside the blast radius that were outside this vaporization zone got hit still, but those inside survived.” Jien explained to the general, and look of anger present in his eyes.
“They survived, that’s good right?”
Jien started laughing a manic laugh. “Ha! No. They got the worst of it! The survivors are now sitting in infirmaries, telling their families goodbye through leadened windows, covered in cancers few could imagine! They have radiation sickness! The chances for many of them are a hundred to one!”
The General now had a look of guilt, anger, and surprise going on all at once.
“The worst part? ONCE AGAIN, I WAS THE SURVIVOR! MY SHIP AND HER CREW WAS THE ONLY ONE FAR ENOUGH AWAY TO ESCAPE THOSE HORRORS! All we got hit with was a BOOM OF AIR SO POWERFUL THAT THE NEARBY TREES WHERE RIPPED APART AND LIT ON FIRE IN MERE SECONDS!”
General Baz-Nak waited a moment to check that the Captain’s speech was over. “You done?”
Jien-Hof regained his composure. “Yes sir.”
Baz-Nak looked at Jien-Hof with a calm look for a moment. “I want you to report to the psych ward, have a banana, and kindly BLRK OFF while I come up with a new plan.”
Jien-Hof looked at Baz-Nak with a stone-cold face. “Yes Sir.”
__________________________________________________
r/Jedinate6Writes | 2022-12-15T08:44:27 | 2019-12-19T04:17:42 | 431 | 83 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | Hi, I'm going to tell my little story here rather quickly as I am rushed for time. Being #1 makes a lot of folks very interested in killing me, so I have to constantly remain on edge.
If there were no ranking systems, most people would assume that I have absolutely no powers. My power is a much more subtle one. But enough tension building, I'll just tell you what it is right now. I have the power of deception.
Seems pretty lame compared to some of the other powers around here -- rank #2 has laser vision for Christ's sake -- but it definitely has its uses. I can make anyone believe or do anything I want. For example, today I convinced a man with acid breath to kill himself. Needless to say, that was a pretty dark moment for me, but I've done worse.
I like to think I'm a pretty charming guy. It helps me manipulate people when I need to. My girlfriend is rank #4 in the city and rank #1 for females. She sadly has the power to crush a man's soul. Ok that's not entirely true, but she does have supersonic speed. I hope you don't think that I accidentally fell in love with the most powerful woman in the city, I planned it. She is entirely convinced that I love her and that really comes to my advantage. She'll do absolutely anything for me, and that can really come in handy for someone as targeted as me in this city. In a way I guess I do love her. I love that she will do simple things for me like robbing a bank. And I especially love the complex things: like murdering her powerful, high ranking family for me. The poor girl can't help but to be infatuated with me -- literally.
Anyways, thats the gist of how I became #1 here. Call me an asshole if you want, but that's the type of personality you have to have to remain on top. It's survival of the fittest, baby. The strong survive and the weak die.
| It wasn't so much a power as it was a curse. Tell me how you would feel to die a million deaths. To wake up the day before the dominoes fell, the machination of reality that would end your life took place, and then some small nuance in the fabric of reality is altered to spare your life for a few more days, years, an eternity. Maybe your consciousness was somehow attached to every other version of you in a theoretical multiverse. Maybe history would simply rewind. You didn't understand how it worked, and felt no more in control than a rat on a wheel. At first it was truly an anguish lamentable, but over eons of human experience you've grown cold and accustomed to your own personal hell. The very world would bend itself minutely just to keep you alive, to keep you at the precipice, to keep you number one. | 2014-12-18T13:12:49 | 2014-12-18T12:57:51 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] You are Captain Hook, and you have scoured the Seven Seas to put an end to the immortal, child-stealing demon known as Peter Pan. After years of searching, you finally set foot on the shores of Neverland. | *I've never posted here before so if its wonky, I apologize.*
The smell of the sea was all Captain Hook has known for as long as he can remember.
He doesn't remember the last time the sounds of waves hitting the boat, the salt in his face, and his crew by his side wasn't the first memories he's had.
That is not to say that those are his only memories. They are far from that. A dull throbbing reminds him of the day this all started. He looked down and saw what had happened that fateful day.
There where a hand should be, instead a hook.
A part of the price he had to pay, to be able to given what he needed to follow Peter Pan to the ends of the world. To track him to his own domain. The only place where Peter Pan is truly vulnerable to death.
Captain Hook's mind flashed back to that day. Watching his Love be killed, the flames, loosing his heart, and having his hand destroyed. Hook's grip tightened on the wheel of the ship. The memories as terrible as the day they happened.
*My love, soon I will have our justice from this monster for taking our heart from us.*
Hook looked out at the ship, seeing his crew of those who have lost their hearts to this monster too. The air thick with anticipation and repressed emotions. Many of his crew want justice for their children, and their families. That were destroyed by Peter Pan.
That said, he looked over to the crew's newest, Miss Wendy Darling, who had joined not to long ago. Lost her brothers to him, and almost herself. If not for Hook's intervention when he did.
Hook holds guilt for not getting there quicker to save her brothers, but saving at least one is better then loosing all 3.
Hook let out a breath, noticing that it has started to show. Temperature drop.
"It has been my honor to be your Captain for this, now get ready! He know's we're here. Keep an eye out! Everything here will kill you without a thought, it's all his mirage!" Hook let out a broken laugh.
A laugh of a man who has been waiting a long time for this. | "Cap'n, the crew is set for departure!"
"Thank you, Smee." The captain grit his teeth in preparation for a long night of cold sky-sailing. He detested sailing at night on account of the cold. Nevertheless, he knew it must be done. You can only reach Neverland by the light of the stars. He never complained in front of the crew, but Smee knew that the night air caused his captain incredible pain.
"Cap'n, shall I get your medicine for you?"
The captain shook his head as he donned his coat, "Not tonight Smee." He rubbed his good hand over what remained of his other arm. "The pain is a reminder of why I must do this. Why we must put a stop to that monster."
At the captain's prompting, Smee attached the cold hook into the captain's stump. The captain grimaced as the steel clicked into place. "You're ready Cap'n Hook."
The captain grinned in delight as he walked to the door, saying, "I have been waiting to say this for so long." He kicked open the door of his quarters and shouted orders to his crew. "All hands on deck! We set sail for Neverland and the head of the child-napping monster, Peter Pan!" | 2018-01-05T13:08:08 | 2018-01-05T12:38:10 | 51 | 12 |
[WP] Your guild says you have little hope as an adventurer- and they cast you out. Dejected, you wander- until you discover that the monsters they've been slaying are merely misunderstood- now they, as your companions, make up for your missing strength | "This isn't working, Neclo. You're out of the guild"
Frozen in disbelief, the meek young man stared at his guild master waiting for him to finally say *"Just kidding!"*. But unfortunately for him, he was as serious as he could get.
"Master...you can't kick me out! Please, I need this! This is my home! I...", Neclo tear up. Turning his attention to his fellow guild members for support, only to see everyone turned their backs against him.
"Why...?", he muttered defeated.
"Why? Really, Neclo? You're the worst warrior we have in here! You can barely swing a sword without running out of breath, you can barely finish the lowest rate jobs. You're not making money for us, Neclo and we had to keep feeding and sheltering you. So nope, that's it. You're out. Take your stuff and go"
A few other members walked up to him, dropping a bag full of Neclo's belongings, not there were much anyway. With no hope, embarrassed, and shamed he dragged his bag out of the guild. With no one lending a helping hand or even anywhere to go, he wandered the street.
Hours he walked, his mind empty. Unsure on where to go, heck not even sure where he should sleep that night Neclo didn't realize his mindless meandering had brought him to the edge of town, passed it, and entered the Dark Forest as the sun set, ending the already devastating day.
Loud howling from afar snapped Neclo out of his daze. Quickly his disappointment turned to fear. Rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs surrounded him. Neclo took out his small blade, which needless to say would be useless against an onslaught of a pack of monsters within the infamously dangerous woods.
Flesh-eating goblins, blood-thirsty dryads, territorial elves, hungry wild bear spirits to name a few were indigenous to those woods. More and more of the predators surrounded Neclo, closing in on him. His legs trembled, the small knife felt heavy on his weak hands. Neclo had given up. Without the guild, his life had no purpose anyway. He curled up on the ground, ready to accept his fate in humiliating way.
Something warm and wet was on his head. Slowly he looked up to a few huge wet snouts on his face. It was a pack of the woodland dire wolves. Humongous wolves brought back from the dead by the forest's enchantment. They sniffed him, licked his face, seemingly welcoming him.
Neclo was perplexed. These monsters the guilds had hunted for centuries were there surrounding him peacefully, as if he was one of their own.
"Are you guys hungry? Here I've got some bread...might be quite stale but they're still good", he said taking out some old bread from his bag, holding it on his hands so the wolves could nibble on it. It was strange. Over his tenure at the guild he never felt a familial bond like he did with those pack of wolves.
Eventually the wolves dispersed, but before they did they grabbed Neclo by his shirt pulling him with them. Neclo still quite frightened followed.
In a cave hidden between some thick bushes the wolves made their nest. Feeling fortunate yet still hesitant, Neclo made his bed on the edge of the cave. The long day had finally over and he was extremely exhausted.
The night wind blew hard as the frozen air entered the cave. Neclo's small body shivered uncontrollably, his teeth chattered in cold. Suddenly some wooly warmth enveloped Neclo. He looked up, seeing the pack of wolves had laid beside him, surrounding him, providing him the warmth he needed. Somehow Neclo felt like he was home.
​
And so time passed. Unwillingly Neclo had made the forest his home and the wolves his family. They protected him, they even provided him food. Neclo tried his best to be a part of the pack and they listened to him. Before he knew it, together they had moved further and deeper into the forest, encountering more wild creatures. Some dangerous, some benevolent, but Neclo found out one thing was common, they were just trying to live peacefully.
Crossing the Fiery Mountains, the Rushing River, conquering the Misty Canyon and Slithery Swamps, Neclo and his pack thrived. He wasn't sure how or why they travelled so far. Neclo was simply following where his heart led him, and his family simply followed. Before he realized it, his family had grown huge. Myriad of creatures they came across they defeated, and with nowhere to go they joined Neclo who in turn received them with his arms open.
Realizing his party becoming too big, Neclo decided he need to create a safe sanctuary for his family. In the often unreachable terrain of Jagged Rocks, hundreds of miles beyond civilizations he built his sanctuary. After all he wasn't short of manpower and materials. The dire wolves, ogres, elves, fairies, dryads, gargoyles, nymphs, chimeras to name a few had become a part of Neclo's growing family.
Shortly his fortress of sanctuary was built, housing the creatures where they live in prosper, as a family. Soon rumors of a mysterious human beast tamer spread throughout the land. Unknown to Neclo many adventuring parties from multiple guilds started a quest to get to the faraway land.
*Continued in part 2...*
Edit: a word | The wizard looked around shiftily. He was trying to keep a low profile. Which is hard to do with that hat on, but what are you going to do? Wizards are gonna wizard, no matter how many times I tell them that it would be better if they just came incognito.
“Hey, sparky!” I said, emerging from the shadows at my end of the alley. I thought the poor kid was going to have a heart attack or throw some half incanted fireball at me.
“God’s TEETH!”, shouted the young man in the oversized purple pointy hat.
“Do you think you could keep your voice down?”, I asked him. “I normally find its better if no-one interrupts illicit transactions like this. That’s why we meet down alleyways and not in the café in front of it.”
He held his hand to his chest and tried to control his breathing. He was verging on hyperventilating. “Have you got the stuff?”, he managed to wheeze.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got the goods. Did you get the coin? And the answer to that better be yes, or I will be adding your life as a service charge.”
He nodded warily and showed me a purse that looked pleasingly full. “200. As agreed. I want to see the goods first though.”
I pulled a leatherbound packet from my jacket and tossed it to him. He completely missed the catch and it bounced on the mossy cobbles close to the alley wall. “Ahhh, shit!” he whispered.
“It’s a good job that’s only manticore fur and powdered griffon claw. If we had any elf blood or anything really explosive in there I’d have a lot of walking to do to pick up my gold from the neighbourhood”, I said, trying not to laugh as he scrabbled around.
When he had regained the packet, and his composure he checked inside. He sniffed and prodded at the items inside, and eventually decided to put a bit of the fur in his mouth to taste it.
“You have no idea what you’re looking for do you?”, I asked him with a grin.
“Yes, of course I do”, he said. “It’s just been a while since I’ve been able to get my hands on this sort of stuff so I’m rusty.”
“Ok, keep your hair on, we wouldn’t want it to knock off that bloody stupid hat now would we?”
“How did you even get this?”, he asked in reply.
I pulled a cigar from my top pocket and lit it with a small fire charm from my finger. I didn’t even really like smoking, but it was good for the image, and useful for future negotiations for him to know I was not without magical talent. Not enough to be a wizard, but falling my training to be a mage, a bard and a healer, had left me with some useful skills.
“Well son”, I said patronizingly, “it takes balls, I’ll tell you that.”
“But…”, he started.
“Yes?”, I interrupted. “What?”
“Well, it's just that you appear to be of the, um, female persuasion.”
“I didn’t say you need your own balls. The balls of any young wizard will do the job. They just need to be fresh.” I blew a smoke ring from my cigar, and then with a flick of my wrist, I coaxed the smoke into the shape of a knife to make my point.
The wizard gulped.
“You want any further checks, or you gonna fire that cash on over, boy?”
He shook his head and tossed me the purse. I snagged it with my free hand and took a long drag with the other. “So. Are we done? Or shall we talk balls?”
The boy turned and fled. I smiled at the hem of the purple cloak flapping from under his coat. He was going to experience a pretty big bump in status if he put those items to good use. He wasn’t lying when he said they were in short supply. I’d pretty much cornered the market. Adventurers these days could barely find unicorns, or manticores or vampires anymore. Let alone actually kill one. Most never even came back from the hunting trips. And they said *I* wouldn't make it.
I pocketed the money and headed out of town. I had an appointment to keep.
\_\_\_\_\_\_
​
r/talleresttales | 2021-01-03T02:18:14 | 2021-01-03T01:43:26 | 158 | 48 |
[WP] You are absolutely immortal and indestructible, but the universe isn't, and that horrifies you | "Hey buddy," The bartender glanced at the man slumped over the empty bar in annoyance. "Closing time, time to go."
The drunk looked up at him and bleary eyed and shook his head. He tried to drink the shitty bottle of beer that had long since been empty, but was still clutched in an otherwise insensible hand. Then rested his head back on the counter.
"I said, time to go," The bartender reached for the man again and grabbed his collar. Even drunk the man reacted with lightning fast reflexes. Before he knew what was happening he was on the ground clutching his arm and screaming in pain.
"Not this time," The drunk slurred and stumbled a little. When had he stood up?
"You broke my fucking arm!" The bartender screamed.
"Not broken," Mumbled the drunk and walked around behind the bar. Grabbing a bottle at random he unscrewed the cap and took a long swig. "Dislocated, only broke it the first three times."
"First? Fuck you! You crazy bastard," The bartender groaned in pain then stood slowly. The drunk walked over to him. Beneath the shaggy beard was an unsettling face. It was young, handsome and unscarred perfect teeth but still stale boozy breath. It wasn't the face of a man who lived rough.
"I'm not crazy, we've done this before," Mumbled the man. "Well not you, but... you."
The bartender glanced behind the man, the phone was so close but the drunk blocked the way. He glanced at the bottle in the man's hand.
"Just take it," The panicked man offered. "Take the bottle and go, I won't even call the cops, I swear."
"Yes you will," The drunk grimaced and the bartender flinched. "You always do."
"Don't blame you kid," The drunk shrugged with a bone tired sigh. "It ain't like you remember the last times."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" The bartender stammered still grimacing from the pain. He was beginning to think the drunk was right, it wasn't broken, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch.
"Every snowflake is unique right?" The drunk glanced at the barman who nodded nervously. The drunk laughed. "That's a lie you know. There are only so many possible combinations a snowflake can form in, eventually you get repeats. Same with any collection of matter really."
The bartender blinked. Through the pain and panic he realized this lunatic was probably right. With so many snowflakes it was impossible no two would be alike.
"Whole universe, explodes," The drunk closed his fist then spread his fingers wide, then he snapped his fist closed. "Collapses. Then explodes again."
"Different snowflakes more often than not," The drunk drank deeply from his bottle. The bartender grimaced as he realized it was banana schnapps. "But sooner or later you see the repeats."
Staring at the drunk the barman was now sure the man was crazy. Or maybe pulling some elaborate prank. He didn't care he wanted this guy gone.
"Look man take the money in the register, take the bottle just go," He practically pleaded. The drunk sighed and stood on shakey feet. The bartender expected him to go to the register but the man just stumbled toward the door.
"Okay," The drunk mumbled lifting the bottle to his lips one more time. "Just don't call the cops, please, please let this be a new one... I don't want another repeat."
The bartender could hear the man crying as he left the bar, sniffing and wiping snot on his coat sleeve. With his good hand the barman reached towards the phone. | 'How long has it been since I last met someone?' I mulled. Decades, centuries or even millennia. My slow pace slowed to a complete halt, as did my hope of finding another being that shared my fate. A human... The last time I met one was ages ago, so much so that my memory of them is vague and hazy.
The landscape was splattered with lush greenery. I collapsed onto the soft grass. It tickled my bare skin. The cloth I once wore, silk, of the finest quality, had been worn to dust and rags shortly after my I began my journey. I laid on the ground, staring up into the thick canopy. I couldn't help but wonder why. Why did they allow the world to come to this? Why were they unable to see past their own greed? Why am I still searching for them? And most of all, why was my wish granted?
​
I have a vivid recollection of everything that had happened leading up to that fateful day - the result of my attempts at discerning why my wish was granted. I had relived the experience millions of times, but it was all futile.
​
I remember the frantic warnings of scientists trying to warn the world, all to no avail. We had worked all their energy sources to the bone. Sometimes, there wasn't even a bone left. Fossil fuels, natural gas, coal, oil. One by one, we disappeared. No matter how much blood we threw at it, those energy sources would no longer be sufficient to fuel our ridiculously luxurious lifestyle. We tried to switch to other sustainable energy sources, but it was already far too late.
​
I recall how the sun would blister your skin, the earth would rumble and the water lashed down upon us. We were woefully unprepared. Lives were lost in the billions. If there were someone to blame, it would be those sitting on their hoard of wealth. Even now my resentment for them continues. If hubris were quantifiable, it would make their wealth seem paltry in comparison.
​
Luckily for me, I was one of the last thousands that managed to survive the extinction event. The floods. Torrential water, infested with toxic pollutants, poured down from the heavens. It simply didn't stop. From weeks, to months, to years. Slowly but surely, everything withered away. The few that remained died of sickness and famine. I remember my last moments before my transition into a different being. aaaaaaaand i lost the motivation to write.welp. | 2021-09-09T08:39:29 | 2021-09-09T08:17:22 | 55 | 15 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | I pressed the square button again, sniping the guy hiding on top of the hut that had been taking out my team for the past half hour. It had taken me too long to find him, but I finally got him. The fact that his insults changed from sucking his anatomy to doing inappropriate things to my mom told me I got the right guy.
There was a knock on my door and my mom came in, wiping her hands on her apron. "Sweetie, can you take out the garbage?"
"Mom, I'm playing my game. I can't do it right now."
"Just pause it."
"That's not how it works." I said, clenching my teeth. She didn't get it.
"Danny, the garbage truck is going to be here in half an hour. Please just do it quick?" She was asking, but it didn't sound like a question. "Last time you missed it and it stunk up the basement, remember?"
"Fine," I said, tossing my controller to the floor as the voices on the screen kept asking why I wasn't shooting anymore.
"Thank you, Sweetie."
"Why doesn't Gary do it?" Isn't that what a boyfriend was for?
"He's not here," she said heading back down the hall.
What a useless sack. I walked downstairs and saw three garbage bags by the door. I grabbed two of them and headed to the curb to put them in the trash bin. I tossed the first in without issue, but the second caught the edge tearing the side and causing a piece of trash to fall to the ground.
I picked up the hand from the ground, it's finger pads removed, and tossed it back in the bin. I headed back to the house to get the last bag.
Guess Gary didn't work out either. Maybe the next guy will. | I’m a very structured man. I’ve had a strict morning routine for 24 years now.
Sunday, March 22, 1992 I discovered the perfect way to start my day.
I wake up at 5:30 and slip on my slippers. I start my coffee and read the sports section.
Once the coffee is finished brewing, I pour myself a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.
I make sure to clean the dishes after I’m finished. Messy sink, messy life.
I’ll shower and dress. Shirt, then tie, then socks, then pants, then shoes.
Before I leave I always make sure to kiss Mary goodbye; she hasn’t aged a day. | 2016-05-19T13:02:55 | 2016-05-19T09:03:34 | 203 | 24 |
[WP] You are a soldier in World War 1. A fellow soldier is acting strangely; rummaging everywhere for inane trinkets, stopping at odd times to disrespectfully squat up and down atop the corpses of enemy soldiers, and often making impossible shots even though his aim is mediocre at best. | Dearest Agnes,
Don’t ever let some city-boy tell you that demons do not walk the earth alongside us. I tell you now that I have seen one, with my own eyes.
I hope this letter finds you well. I seem to be hale and whole but I have my doubts that I can trust what I hear and feel. Yet... if what I have seen truly did not come to pass, I swear to you that I would not be alive. And it’s all to do with one man. Private Jones. I do not know what that man is.
We were invading this poor little town, long since evacuated. Liberating it, I guess. The whole squad snuck up all quiet-like and through some bushes, up to this boarded up house. Get inside, hunker down, wait for the shouting to start and bust out some windows, simple plan. But Jones, I do not even know how to describe it. While we were setting up, he was undoing what we’d done as fast as we’d do it, snatching up any little thing we set down. None of us could come up with a single word to say until he started going for the medical kit by the door, and the Sergeant whisper-shouts at him to get the heck down. He just stand there at it for a second though, and the he kicks down the god-danged door! Everything went belly-up after that. All shouting and scrambling for anything to hide behind... but it sounded like there were folks outside doing it to. And Jones is just walking out and belting out shots one after another. I dared to take a peek out between some boards on a window, and I guess they’d been setting up some kind of ambush. It’s like somehow Jones just knew. He chewed through a solid six of them before they even figured out what had happened and started firing back, but that’s when the sergeant grabbed me away from the window and told me we were getting right out of there. All of us but Jones went full tilt out the back, and around to this other house where we met up with another squad, but the whole time we kept expecting the sounds of gunfire to, well... stop. It just kept going though.
By the time we got to the other squad, Sarge started telling the other officer what had happened, and I just had to see what was going on. I know I could have lost my life right then, but I poked my head out to see, and what I saw.
I know not how, but it sure as hell was not by god. Jones had wiped the block of every German on it. Most of them were taken mid-run, or so it looked like from the sprawl of legs. It’s like he knew where they all were going before any of them did. And him... he was a mess. I couldn’t see him through the mess of it all. He looked ground beef walking, and I’m sorry for making you read those words but it is true. But when he walked, it was barely with a limp. If I’d looked like that, I, well, I would have never walked again. But he turns right around, and he goes into that doorway, and I didn’t see what happened next. I would say he opened up that kit from before and dressed down his wounds, but if he did, he has faster hands than I have eyes. It sounds mad I know it does but by god I think he ate it. And when he walked out, he was clean. Not a drop of blood, not a cut, not a scratch. I have never been more terrified in my entire life.
Then, well... then he stated doing what I guess he calls teabagging. | **Jones! What the fuck are you doing?**
What does it look like I'm doing, Smith? I'm squatting up and down atop the corpses of these enemy soldiers.
**But why?**
No idea. I mean, that's pretty weird once you think about it.
**Yes, about as weird as you taking your wild shots and stealing trinkets from the deceased.**
Wait, come on. Everybody takes some stuff from the bodies of these guys. Jesus, man, you've got pockets full of pocket watches.
**That's my OCD. I only pick up pocket watches I find on the ground because they're supposed to be... you know, in pockets. Some of these are from our side, you know.**
Hold up. Look over there! It's Hitler!
**Who?**
OK, look, I'm from the future.
**You are?**
Yes. Yes, I am. I come to you from the year 1986. You see this?
**What is it?**
A Rubik's cube.
**I don't know what that means.**
It's... from the future. Fuck it. Look, so, I was sent back from 1986 to 1917 to kill a guy who is gonna start World War II. This is World War I, by the way. Y'all just don't know it yet. You might wanna trademark it for some t-shirts or mugs. That's what President Reagan would do. Sorry, you don't know who that is, but if you saw Back To The Future, this would be even funnier.
**I'm so confused. I just wanna get back to Brooklyn and see my girl!**
Really? How cliche. Look, see that guy sitting outside of their camp, picking his nose? That's the most evil man ever, and if I kill him now, I save a bunch of lives and change the future.
**Is that... good?**
Yeah! I mean, it couldn't get worse.
**Hey, you dropped something.**
What? Oh, one of mypocket watches. Thank you. Hey, where did he go?
**Who?**
Hitler!
**Looks like he got into that jeep that's driving away.**
Well that's just great. Now I'm stuck in 1917, where I'm not immune to your gonorrhea.
**Just use a condom, man. What if a super disease that is sexual in nature comes down the pike in your time because of past indiscretions?**
Yeah, like that's ever gonna happen. (dry chuckle) Looks like I'm not killing Hitler today. Let's go home and have unprotected sex with your cousin.
(music swells) (fade to black) | 2019-12-02T17:33:31 | 2019-12-02T16:30:58 | 51 | 23 |
[WP] A supervillain and a superhero are roommates, but they don't know. Every day, they go out and do battle, and then they come back and take care of each other while lying about how they got all beaten up. | Dom was feeling pretty exhausted as he entered the apartment. It had been a long day, but he had accomplished a lot and now he could relax for the rest of the night.
As he passed the living room on his way to the kitchen to grab a beer he saw one of his two roomates, Carl, watching some tv.
Dom had to admit that he felt a bit bad for Carl. The guy worked IT for the federal government and was always on call, meaning he often had to leave at odd hours. Carl also seemed to be pretty depressed. Hell, the main reason Carl lived in that apartment was because his therapist ordered told him to have roomates in hopes it would at least help a bit since he couldn't take any medication to help it. Pre-existing medical conditions or something like that.
After grabbing the beer Dom figured he would try to strike up a conversation.
"Hey, Carl, did hear about the showdown between Grendle and Excelsior earlier today? It was pretty brutal. I hear he disintegrated her arm."
Carl didn't even bother looking up as he replied,"$12 million dollars in property damaged, 178 people injured, 12 dead, 3 eaten before Excelsior showed up. It took him 26 minutes and 52 seconds to respond. The bastard should have been faster."
Dom shrugged. Carl seemed to have a practically encyclopedic knowledge of super heroes, super villians, and their clashes, despite seeming to have a rather strong dislike for them. Carl seemed to particularily dislike Excelsior, which had always struck Dom a bit odd as Excelsior was both the most powerful and most successful hero on the planet.
"You know, I think you're being a bit too hard on the guy. He was saving the world from 50 km long sentient, evil asteroid when it happened."
"53620m long asteroid. Even still, he took too long."
Suddenly Carl's cell phone rang. As Carl picked it up and moved to a different room to take the call Dom took Carl's spot on the couch. He flipped the tv channel to the news.
Dom look up to see Carl moving towards the entrance of the apartment.
"Work called. Apparently Terry managed to crash the server again."
Dom gave a small smile, "I'm surprised Terry even still work there considering the problems he causes. Well, good luck. I'll make sure there's some food left for after you get back."
Carl nodded his thanks and left.
A few minutes later the door opened again, revealing their other roomate, Sue. She was wearing a long coat and took a quick look around the room before Dom spoke up.
"Carl was called in for work so you don't have to worry about hiding your arm. Something about Terry breaking the server again."
Sue gave him a smile before taking off her coat, revealing one of her arms as being practically just bone with muscles slowing growing on it. "Maybe next time I'll try and eat Terry. Might help Carl relax a bit more without Terry breaking things all the time." She moved towards the living room. "Seriously, I can't believe Excelsior just tore my arm off like it was nothing. You'd think super heroes could appreciate how annoying it is to regrow an arm."
Once again, Dom shrugged. It wasn't a problem he's ever had to deal with.
"Well, if it helps I managed to finish my giant robot army today. Want to watch?"
Sue joined him on the couch as they watched the chaos for a few minutes before Excelsior showed up and made short work of the robot army.
Dom got up and walked towards the kitchen. "Well, that didn't work. I guess I'll just have to do better with my next one. I'll make dinner tonight. Just be sure to leave some for Carl. He always seems to be a bit more depressed when he gets home after being called in."
| Delilah slinked down the sidewalk, she just needed to pass this block, and hope Andrew didn't see her. Skipping tree to tree. The house was across the street and kitty corner. She had a lot of trees to hop behind and her leg throbbed with every leap.
"Damn Serendipity. I was just about to pull off my first caper. He ruined everything. How inconvenient."
Delilah crossed both cross walks and still kept her eyes on the windows to make sure nobody was watching for her.
Sprinting from the cross walk to the Red Oak that grew across the street from Andrew's window Delilah thought she was in the clear and
"Blarg!" A ten year old boy in a monster mask shouted as he lept from behind the tree. "I'm going to eat you."
"I bet you will Andrew"
"There is no Andrew, only Zuul"
"Why did I show him Ghost Busters?" She thought, regretting her choice of being Andrew's baby sitter.
She just wanted to get closer to Sampson, but the whole reason she had to baby sit was because he refused to anymore. The kid was too much so his older brother was enrolling himself in every extra curricular to avoid taking care of Andrew.
She concentrated.
The mask's string snapped.
"Aww"
"Go inside and get some tape, I'll be waiting for you."
"Ok. Don't move. I am the key master!"
Andrew ran back towards the house. Once he slammed the door behind him Delilah bolted
Right into Sampson.
They tumbled down, Sampson's wet sweaty hair brushing her face. She should have been more grossed out, but his sweat smelled like the salt of the sea.
Delilah immediately recovered and got to her feet "Oh, sorry Sam" as she turned away and ran home before he could see how red her face became.
Barging through the front door of her house she ran to her room, trying not to think of his hands, his hair, his eyes. Oh my god his eye. What happened? Who would hurt her perfect Sam's face? Today was Tuesday, must have been one of those dicks in Tae Kwon Do.
"I will avenge his face" she thought. Imagining the acrobatics she would do as she defeated the whole dojo.
Imagination turned to memory as her fight with Serendipity came to mind. He was stronger and faster but not luckier. His cape caught on a low hanging branch and Delilah's staff struck her foe clear on the temple, tossing him into the Providence River. That would show him.
She beat that pompous hero, Serendipity for the first time today, and she got to touch Sampson. Delilah marked a W in Tuesday's column. | 2015-07-18T02:06:05 | 2015-07-18T00:28:09 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You were the "big bad"; after being "killed" by the hero, you decided to change your life. You opened a hospital and dedicated your life to healing the sick; but today the hero just walked in with their very ill child. You are one hell of a doctor though. | "Is he going to make it, Doc?"
"I've managed to stabilize his condition, but it'll be pretty much touch and go over the next few hours."
His head drops. "I deserve this."
"Oh?" I'm half-way listening, but I have other patients to attend to.
"Years ago, I...I tried to save someone who...didn't quite make it."
"It happens," I reassure him. But my chest is a little tighter.
His jaw clenches. "No," he says. "It doesn't. Not for me. I cant afford it to."
I remain silent. Down the halls, we can hear the sounds of people crying out or moaning in pain.
"I blame myself everyday," he says. "I guess it's like criticism, eh?" He looks up and shoots me a sad grin before looking back down. "No matter how many lives I save, I always think about the one life I didn't. Even though" he adds, "many people said that he deserved to have been killed a long time." He shifts in his seat a little. "I dont believe that, though." His voice lowers to barely above a whisper. "I saw the goodness in him."
I blink my eyes furiously and clear my throat. I look down hard at the clipboard of names, but all the letters have merged into watery, black squiggles. I sniffle and swipe my sleeve over my eyes to clear them.
For a moment, the only sound that I can seem to hear is the click-click of my heels as I cross the hallway to place a hand on his broad, muscular shoulder. He looks up into my smiling face, and I tell him: "Sometimes we have to let our old selves die so we can start our life anew."
Our eyes are locked on the others. This is a place we've been to so many times before, and I use my clipboard as an excuse to look away before he can recognize me.
"I have to go check on my other patients. I'll be back shortly to check on your son."
He nods, but I can feel his eyes on my back the entire time as I walk away.
*Crap!* I curse myself, turning the corner. *Does he know it's me?*
| One decision,
Just one,
Made with precision,
And yet none,
See, I used to be king,
Now I’m not,
That’s just the thing,
I like it a lot,
I was an overlord,
I was unbeatable,
But i got very bored,
It was untreatable,
So I left,
Let them think,
My death,
Against him in the rink,
And now here he stands,
Eye’s just as I remember,
Kid in hand,
Eye’s bright as embers,
I know he sees me,
But I don’t think he cares,
He’s desperate you see,
In disrepair,
I look at their eyes,
Child’s red and his is blue,
And then I realize,
Something new,
I don’t care for who his parents are,
I don’t care for what he is or may be,
I don’t care that he came from far,
Dont you see,
The one thing I care about,
Is when I feel this,
Joy from the kid,
After I cure this illness,
So yes sir, Ill help you out,
Don’t worry about payment,
Cause this is what Im all about.
**This isn't my best quality of writing, but I liked the prompt so I figured why not. ** | 2019-02-12T08:31:04 | 2019-02-12T08:26:35 | 453 | 46 |
[WP] Decades ago you and your school friends were stuck in a time loop until you prevented the murder of your history teacher. Today you all reunite to visit him dying in the hospital... and find yourself back in that history class the moment he dies. The time loop never ended.
Inspired by one of the top comments on this video: https://youtu.be/wy5peXAywnE | It all started on that first, original loop. The one where our History teacher was killed in front of us, as he threw one of our classmates out of the way of an incoming vehicle. We watched as, instead of Graeme, the vehicle struck Mr. Ketterson and continued straight into the side of a building. Pinned to the wall, his abdomen crushed and the light fading from his eyes, a small group of us were near enough to hear his final lament:
"I wish I didn't have to die..."
The real shock was the sourceless reply:
"As you so desire!"
Since then, we've been caught in a loop. A loop that resets to that very morning, at morning attendance. It reset with the death of Mr. Ketterson. The 5 of us who heard his wish, and the ensuing response, recall the details of the prior loops. And it's fortunate we did, otherwise it would have gone on forever! As it stands, we've reset 17,653,821 times. In otherwords, Mr. Ketterson has died 17,653,821 times. Each time, we used our knowledge of each subsequent loop to avert each new death.
Sometimes, there'd be multiple causes of death in a single "day" (i.e. we would prevent one cause, just for some other tragedy to result in Mr. Ketterson's demise that same day, resetting the loop), while others we could go months without incident. The record was 2 years, 8 months, 3 days between saving him and the next incident.
Right at this moment, though, we are all gathered around Mr. Ketterson's - no, we moved past that a long time ago. We are gathered around Harold's hospital bed to say farewell. To him, it has been around 37 years since he saw Graeme walking into the path of a vehicle outside of school, and before he could react, Phil raced past and dragged Graeme back by his blazer. What followed must have been a strange 37 years of being continuously saved by one of the 5 of us. Each time, we'd explain everything; it became easier to convince him with each subsequent loop and the ever increasing "near-misses" he's experienced.
"Thank you, boys." He rasps, dragging my mind out of it's reverie and back to the present. His voice barely above a whisper, as we lean in to hear him. "You've done more than I can ever know for me. I could never repay you if I had infinite lives."
"It has been rough, but it has certainly been a unique experience for us," I joke, my voice strained with barely contained emotion as I gaze into the unseeing eyes of the man we've all helped reach the natural end of his life.
"You've all grown into fine men... Promise me one thing when I'm gone. Live for yourselves." He breathes as his eyes flutter shut. "I'm sorry. I'm so tired lately. I think... I'll just have... a little nap..."
His words trail off as his breathing softens and slows. Within a minute the machine attached to him to monitor his vitals lets out a sharp, shrill, prolonged beep to indicate his heart has stopped. The doctor in the room turns it off without emotion.
"Time of death: 1807, Tuesday October 25th 2022," he states, as he folds the sheets over the face of the now lifeless corpse of Harold Ketterson.
The 5 of us gathered all close our eyes and bow our heads in a final farewell.
I can actually feel the moment my sanity snaps when I open my eyes to see the back of Julian's head in the seat in front of me, Mr. Ketterson standing at the front of the class taking register, and it hits that the loop cannot be broken. The wish will not permit Mr. Ketterson to die, by *any* cause. And my mind instantly comes to the conclusion that an eternity of incomprehensibility is preferable to an eternity of pointless repetition. | "No no no no no..." John continued muttering, slowly crouching as he gripped his hair tightly. "No. That was real!" The tears flowed freely. "Theresa was real. Bobby and Ashton and Riley and Sarah were real!" John gave Ian a crazed look that scared him.
John erupted in a fresh wave of sobs. Ian took a seat in one of the chairs and put his face in his hands, not wanting John to see his tears.
"I'm sorry, Theresa. I'm sorry. Why didn't I do more? Every day. Every day I felt like I was burdened, like I was slogging through mud. It was always so close to when I worked, or I just worked, or I was just tired, and I was always *so* tired, I think. Honestly, I don't even know if I was actually tired or struggling, or just a lazy, fat fuck." John stopped for a moment before regarding his left hand, staring at his fingers close. He rapidly breathed several hiccupy gasps, his chest bouncing up and down.
John gently twisted his pointer finger and thumb around his ring finger, as he had done for the previous twenty-seven years. He felt the fresh, young skin on his wrist, missing the tower of dates for his anniversary and the birth of each of his beautiful children. He reached up to adjust his glasses and found none. His neck was void of its locket, the photo of his family inside, worn at the insistence of his youngest daughter, despite the heckling he received from the young boys at the office.
John panicked. "Where is something to write with? Find me something to write with!" His voice carried the hysterics of a teenage tantrum.
Ian found a pen and an old composition notebook that was mostly filled in.
John wrote. Addresses, phone numbers, names, dates, and events. He wrote as fast as his cramping hands would allow, ever cognizant of the approaching assassin.
He grew even more aware of his vapid memory, recoiling from John's touch as he tried to reach further into the depths, to remember his family and friends, to maybe find them again someday.
Thus, tears flowed as he scribbled, as he remembered four children but not his fifth's name, only that the child existed and it was a boy, and it was probably the third or fourth child born. He began with his wife, knowing she would be required to begin any of this again.
The fragments shrank further and further until John could scarcely remember why he was in this history room with the teacher lecturing as if John and Ian were not there.
John simply remembered this composition book was of utmost importance.
He stuck many sticky notes on the notebook before writing "JOHN - READ THIS" in black bold text.
The class began laughing; a jokester was pointing a handheld laser pointer between the teacher's eyeballs.
The earth clapped. The scent of copper filled the room. | 2022-10-23T18:26:50 | 2022-10-23T18:17:25 | 134 | 51 |
[WP] Alien travelers stopped at Earth to refuel and consult humans in exchange. An allien consulting an astronomer finds a picture of a black hole on her computer. "Oh, you also scare your children with this tale haha". "No, it's a recent photo" she replies. Alien is visibly freaking out. | The visitor folded inward in a motion that was thoroughly, for lack of a better word, alien. Dr. Braun turned to the 'liaison' that had brought Klurrt and been acting as translator and cultural advisor. She was surprised to see the man frowning with wide eyes, an expression of deep distaste on his face.
"I'm sorry," said Dr. Braun, "Did I offend... him?"
"I don't know," he said, "I've only seen them do this once before. I'm still not sure what it means." He made a set of noises that approximated the language the alien spoke, leading it to unfold.
Through the translator, Klurrt explained. "They are not supposed to exist anymore. Our ancestors were said to have gathered them and fed them to one another until there was only one and that one was placed at the center of the galaxy where it could do no harm."
"Well, this one is nowhere near the center of the galaxy..." said Dr. Braun.
As the translation was carried out there was a twitch but not a full withdrawal. "Where?"
Dr. Braun tapped her keyboard, dismissing the screensaver and navigated to the folder that contained the images. Finding the one she needed she checked the filename and then pulled up her charting software. A minute later she was able to pull up a render of the expected shape of the milky way and trace a line on it. "We aren't sure how far out it is yet. We're still waiting for the parallax shot. It has to be on this line though, and probably somewhere between here and here."
The sensory head pressed close to the screen and there was a chittering sound.
"What is he saying?"
The translator shrugged until Klurrt turned and spoke again. "This should not be. This is bad."
"Why?" asked Dr. Braun, "It's just a black hole. There are lots of them out there, according to our models."
Klurrt snapped shut almost violently, and refused to open again.
"Maybe we shouldn't have told them that." | "Its what....?!", the alien asked, pronouncing every word slowly, to prevent misunderstandings.
"Well, it got taken recently. And we also have more of them, if youre interested", she replied friendly. The alien on the other hand seemed, like their soul left their body.
"Giv- give me a minute. I have to t-talk to somebody." "Sure, go ahead", the astronomer turned around and sat on a chair nearby.
"Sir? Sir! You sure know about the tale of the black holes?" **uhh... sure? Whats up with it?** "The civilisation on planet S0L1-T52V:C has proves, that they exist. Images, frequences, all the stuff"
The alien on the other side of the communication device clearly coughed, like they were drinking something.
**The-they WHAT?!** "Exactly what i just told you. Get all the travellers to the headbase. I guess we know now, why some went forever missing..." | 2021-12-24T06:14:38 | 2021-12-24T03:56:20 | 2,278 | 243 |
[WP] You are a SpaceX astronaut on Mars. The earth as you knew it was lost to a nuclear war between NATO and China/Russia. Luckily your mission was to construct the colony and you have enough supplies to survive indefinitely. It’s been 25 years since loss of contact. You hear a knock on the door.
Edit: Wow thanks for all the upvotes!! My inspiration for this was a picture of the earth exploding and an astronaut looking at it from the moon. I love all of the submissions! Everybody has a different take on it! | The knock woke me.
I blinked at the door a moment. I didn't have to make the doors, nothing else lived on this entire damn planet other than me of course, but it had just felt...*right.*
The knock came again, more insistent.
I swallowed, and by complete instinct I grabbed the nearest thing to me - a glass stirring rod, and approached the door.
Some image I made as maybe the first human to contact an alien species - a raven haired woman in a nightgown holding a glass rod for God's sake.
*Don't get your hopes up,* that cynical part of me said. *It's probably just you hallucinating from extreme lack of human contact.*
I suppressed that voice. I'd heard the knock, I knew I had.
I opened the door and dropped the glass stirring rod in shock.
Brad stood there, exactly as he had all those years ago. Tall, blond hair and that grin of his. He hadn't changed a bit.
"Oh my God," was all I could say.
Brad raised an eyebrow, and spoke with a smile dancing on his lips, "Is that a stirring rod or are you just happy to see me?"
I flung my arms around him and started to cry. "H-how?" was all I managed between choking sobs. Images flashed through my head. Our times in college, us laughing, talking, driving around the countryside in the night. ...And watching the explosions as my ship left him, as I abandoned him.
"Well, you see," he said, holding me tightly. "Contrary to what you think, there are in fact other humans with intelligence. We rebuilt and I came for you. Couldn't leave you alone here could I?"
My rational part of me knew then, of course. Knew that it made no sense. Rebuild a spaceship after a nuclear apocalypse? But I kissed him anyways, trying, hoping, praying that he was real, that he wouldn't fade away.
It didn't work for long. It never did.
I woke up alone.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | It's been 25 years since the incident. The day after I launched to the red planet to go assist in completion of Lancelot forward operations base what does NATO go and decide to do "hey let's go start a war with China and Russia at the same time! That is a great idea". The earth did not last long, so many nukes were fired off that humanity was sent back to the stone age before the weekend. Spacex command informed me of the situation but alas they were unable to help me and I loss communication with them in only a few hours. Luckily I had been provided with plenty of supplies and with the solar powered greenhouse I was able to grow my own food, along with the incredible water recyclers so I could have something to drink. So that's what I have been doing for the past 25 years until you knocked on my door. So what can we do Mr. Musk? "Oh, we are going to save humanity, come with me and let me show you my secret project, the Falcon lifeboat." | 2018-03-05T05:33:47 | 2018-03-05T05:19:38 | 3,650 | 81 |
[WP] You have a power. Everyone thinks this power is completely lame. They are wrong. | On a patch of dirt it squirmed, mindless and insignificant. A small pink earthworm.
"Watch," I told them. "It'll do it, just wait."
I slowly raised my hand palm-up in front of me. My small audience passed all kinds of looks, mainly the sort that say, "this man is not sane." Yet they remain observing patiently.
A few moments passed, and the worm was yet to do much more than wiggle. I was losing viewers at this point, but I didn't care. It was happening now, I could feel it.
Slowly that little worm began to raise - what I assumed was - its head, and stand on end. The small group of people around me immediately dispersed. "Worm-charming, dude... are you for real?"
They had no idea what was taking place beneath their feet.
No one would witness what was about to happen but I didn't care. With both hands raised now, I could feel a familiar buzzing in the bottoms of my feet, and through the dry earth popped the head of a second worm. And a third. And a fourth. Within minutes, hundreds surrounded me - then thousands. I threw my hands over my head and the worms bound together, into a single large writhing body. It lowered it's head and atop I climbed, as more continue to rise and join the growing beast below me. I then allowed them to overtake me, and I was soon covered, head-to-toe. I stretched my arms out to my sides and at once the worms on my body perished, leaving a thick, hard, leather-like covering. It didn't take long for the crowd to regain interest - good news for me. There they stood, mouths agape like turkeys in the rain, stiller than the cold inside a refrigerator - full of meaty sustenance.
With a point of a finger, my worms let loose, and so began the feast. | It was half past eight, almost time for the prime minister to get lunch, well before his guards were expecting. I waited patiently for the little man to step through the thick mahogany doors. Here he comes! I centered my scope just below the man's thick toupee and squeezed the life out him. I methodically put away my equipment and trotted down the stairs. Steps and excited voices echoed up towards me and the disappeared as I approached. It was like watching a group of mimes. Slowly slowly their feet trampled furiously up the stairs. It was too easy, always too easy. I liberated a twenty from one of their wallets and went to McDougal's across the street for a well earned drink and an alibi. I'd been in the bar well before the shooting. It's amazing what you can do by simply altering a person's perception of time. | 2016-05-28T08:19:18 | 2016-05-28T04:29:18 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] There is an average of 9,728 planes carrying 1,270,406 passengers in the sky at any given time. As these flights touch down at their airports they find them empty. In fact everywhere seems too be empty. The only people left were those in the air from commercial jetliner to single engine prop. | 11:00 PM, Tuesday March 25th. As Commercial Liner 774 touched down in LaGuardia Airport in New York City, and her passengers disembarked, they weren’t met with ground crew to properly dock with. Air Control had been dead for some time now. Mordecai, a lanky 20-something year old, was one of the first to ride down 774’s emergency slide, and saw the entirety of the air field barren. As others followed his lead, he rushed towards the airport. He’d never been the athletic type, but with fear and adrenaline pumping throughout his body, his wild and manic dashing got him inside by a considerable margin.
Flickering lights, luggage belts still looping, and an eerie silence is all that was left. He put a hand over his mouth, tears rolling down his petrified face. “I didn’t want this…” His words bounced off the walls, and reverberated through the hollow halls. “I take it back! I take it back! Take back my wish!” He was screaming, but no one could hear his cries. He’d been angry, and in a moment of weakness, he’d wished the unthinkable upon those he loved. His family, his girlfriend, Mordecai had unknowingly made them disappear. He made the whole world disappear simply because he was tired of them. But now he was terrified of being without them.
A loud shuttering came from overhead, shaking the still airport. Mordecai darted towards the nearest window, and saw dozens of planes touching down in the airfield. He fell to his knees, knowing full well he was to blame for such horrible loss of life. In a few minutes, people would pour inside, searching desperately for their loved ones, only to be all alone. Just like him. Mordecai’s hands fell to his knees, eyes puffy and red.
“Please…” He begged the nameless meteor he’d spoken to once before, “Let me pretend that airplanes in the night sky are shooting stars…” He sniffed, “I could really use a wish right now…” | There's an average of 9,728 planes carrying 1,270,406 passengers in the sky at any given time. As these flights touch down at their airports they find them empty. All of the planes are boarding an empty world.
The passengers on these flights don't know they're alone in the sky because they're wrapped up in their own lives and routines, but there's a sense of unease in the air. People think to themselves that they can't get used to a life like this, knowing that you'll never hear laughter and sudden elation again.
It starts with one passenger who can't take it anymore and stands up, ready to disembark from her plane. She meets resistance from her fellow passengers though as they urge her not to do it and insist that she should return to her seat to avoid being lost forever. They plead with her not to leave their safe little world for a terrifying and desolate reality where no one else is there. | 2021-08-14T03:15:24 | 2021-08-14T01:04:48 | 184 | 13 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a law was passed globally that requires everyone to hibernate for 100 years at a time after every 90 years. Today is Shutdown Day. As you finish getting tucked into your pod, you instantly notice eyes being shut all around you. But something is wrong. You are still awake.
This post was partially inspired by [this one.](https://www.reddit.com/r/morbidquestions/comments/aaeu8w/if_everyone_in_the_world_fell_asleep_at_the_exact/) | It worked! I couldn’t believe it, I was sitting in a hibernation pod wide awake. I have to get out of here before someone notices, need to slip back into the new rotation, take on my new identity...
See ever since overpopulation became a thing, we had to start coming up with ways to survive. Along comes the brilliant Dr Frank about 3000 years ago, with hibernation pods and the idea of splitting the worlds population into tenths. Each rotation getting to live ten years while the other 90% of the world lays asleep waiting their turn.
It certainly slowed down the food shortages what with only needing to fill the stomachs of a fraction of the total population. Yet here I am at age 29 after living 209 real earth years and we still haven’t solved the crisis that had us all rattled all those centuries ago. You can only get so much done in ten years, then you have to pass it onto the next rotation and hope that they can understand enough to keep on going with the progress you made.
It still hurt, finding out as a kid that my mother had me in the final year of her rotation. Hibernation pods can’t sustain unborn children, the baby just keeps on coming eventually growing too big for the womb and killing the mother with it. So instead they let the mother extend her rotation on the condition that when the child is born they immediately enter hibernation and go back to their parent rotation. The lucky child then has the pleasure of being raised by foster parents from the current “living” human population, deprived of ever meeting their real family again.
Well now I have a chance to fix everything. I could have just waited out my hibernation to continue my research but if I’d learnt anything over my last 10 year stint its that no rotation was making any progress towards preventing overpopulation. We were coming dangerously close to a crossroad where a second split would need to occur, creating 100 groups each taking a 10 year rotation followed by 990 years of hibernation. I needed to fix this problem now, even if it meant breaking the greatest rule of all and “living” for longer than 10 years.
My biggest fear? Just how different these other 9 rotations were... maybe if I live long enough I’ll get to do a full loop, meet my family... will be quite a bit older than them by that point!
| The hibernation is supposed to be a beautiful thing. Apparently all of us dream of our own perfect lives, but my situation was far from perfect.
"Help! Somebody Help!" I yelled desperately. The hibernation process was supposed to be flawless, a Human Marvel!. The pod opened itself and I got out. " Hello Alex, We have full trust that you will cooperate", a female AI voice said camly.
The lights shaped like arrow on the floor guided me to a room full of controls and screens. The directions on the screen read, "Choose 100,000 to Save from this Hellish Existence". Panicking, I quickly picked my 2 sons and wife. I also picked any extended family that was remotely related. Then I just picked people with an impeccable SOCIAL credit. Finally taking weeks, I made my choice and clicked enter.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! What did the phrase mean when it said save? I heard screams of children next to my pod. I then heard the silent hiss as the ventilation pushed gas into the room. I wasn't even sad, this place was hell. I was glad to go.
P.S. I actually suck at writing, this is my first post so sorry if this causes any physical pain. | 2018-12-29T04:15:00 | 2018-12-29T02:42:16 | 36 | 20 |
[WP] Knights covered head to toe in metallic armour, fortresses made to resist sieges, scarce population centers, Who would've guessed that the middle ages would be so prepared to survive a zombie outbreak. | "You can't be serious," Hiro said to his friend.
"I know, I know! But, but, I checked, I double-checked, I triple-checked! I hired two different analysts to date the paper; it's 11th-century parchment, no doubt. I hired a language expert and the language is appropriate for the period. There're cross-references to other manuscripts - look, Hiro, I'm telling you, this thing is *legit*," Samuel exclaimed, practically hopping with excitement.
"Look, if this is real - and I'm not saying I believe it - you do understand what this would mean, right? Not just for academia, but for medicine, science, socio- fuck, *what wouldn't it affect?*" Zeke said and leaned back in his chair heavily.
The two men stared at the carefully preserved parchment silently.
"I mean..." Hiro started hesitantly, "this is an actual, honest-to-God record of a zombie outbreak in the 11th-century! This is..." he started but could not find the words to finish.
Without prompt, Samuel picked up the paper and started carefully translating.
"Look, look," he said and cleared his throat.
'*Fallow month, 13th day*
*The sickness has spread to Wilderburg. My cousin says the locals burned their own village down to contain it and left for Haddenmoor for refuge. All that's left are burned husks of houses and the demons. I still can't bring myself to believe it - an affront to God in Heaven. Some evil curse that makes the dead rise and hunger for flesh - living, human flesh. It's like a story told to unruly younglings.*
*We are lucky Lord Barr took action so quickly. He gathered all capable menfolk and even some womenfolk to fight the demons off. It is a small comfort that the beasts are mindless and fall easily to our spears, clubs, and pitchforks. We've even been joined by a small mercenary company from Hamburg who have offered their services for free - they're pious men doing their duty to the Lord. Their mail and swords are excellent tools, though the thick padded armor provided by Lord Barr works well enough.*
*We patrol the fields for survivors in the day and retreat to the Lord's Keep at night - it is too dangerous then. We can hear them clawing at the stone, grunting, screeching, but all that's left in the morning are bloody smears and fingernails embedded in the cracks. The keep is stocked to survive a half-year siege and we should survive until we get news from the physicians and alchemists in Berlin as to what could cause this malaise - perhaps even cure those who have been bitten. So far... we've been unable to help those unfortunate souls.*
*I am fortunate that the Lord is a man of faith and does not ask me to take up arms - I understand that the demons are no longer human, but as a priest, I can't bring myself to slaughter my once flock. I can, however, chronicle the events for future generations as I am the only one - save the Baron - who controls the art of writing.*
*God will deliver us from this evil, for we follow in His steps and bask in His light.'*
Samuel finished reading out the paper with a heavy breath.
"And that's just one page. There's a whole *annal* here," he said excitedly.
Hiro vacantly stared into thin air and shook his head in disbelief.
"Zombies in medieval Germany," he said and looked at his friend.
"Now *that's* a movie right there," he chuckled.
​
*\[Small note - I don't generally like to go heavy on religious speech, but this being medieval Germany, it only makes sense\]* | 'The end has come' priest preached 'The dead have come back as it was written. We live in the end times. For us is to wait for our Lord to descend from the skies once more. Repent your sins.' his voice fade away as Wallace left the market square.
He was merchant as his father and grandfather and so on but none of them could imagine how dangerous his job will be now. Being merchant never was safest of jobs. Brigands, muggers and common rogues were attacking unprotected convoys quite often. Sometimes even protected. And they were not taking prisoners.
Now meeting briggand was rare, and each convoy was protected by what could be called a small army just decade ago. Zombies were slower and more predictable but somehow deadlier. Maybe it is due to miasma. It somehow spreads. Priests tell that infected people just receive punishment for their sins. Others tell that it just unfolds their true nature.
Whoever is right anyone wounded by a zombie gets infected and it is possible to get infected with no direct contact but it's very rare. This is why everyone who leaves city wears armor. And everyday militia chcecks houses in the cities, castles or even forrified villages looking for people with suspicious symptoms. Every militia patrol is accompanied by plague doctor and priest.
Today's transport was nothing exceptional. Some Weapon, mostly axes, spears and halberds, nails, some pottery. He was going to leave in 45 minutes, his crew was probably mostly ready. He needed to put chainmail and get in the cart. As an owner he was privileged to be extra safe.
At set time long process of opening gates has begun. Normally all the resources spent on ensuring that convoy can get out safely would heacilly outweight all profits Wallace could earn. But times were far from normal and he was one of the few who could provide all the necessary resources for the city to survive not excluding food.
First was tar. Boiling tar. Somehow we managed to understand that zombies fear High temperatures so it was quite effective. Then bolts. Few dozen crossbowmen were during firing making breach in the undying crowd at the gates. After some time tar was set aflame and as soon as there was corridor good enough for horses to walk through gates were opened.
Twenty armed men rushed through followed by 5 carts and another twenty men on the sides. On each cart there were two bowmen. Everyone had steel armor. Most had shields. At time last men from convoy were coming through gate it was already being closed not to risk any zombie in.
In ten minutes they made it through zombie crowd with constant help from armymen from the city. In another ten no zombie from that crowd was close enough to provide immidiate threat. Wallace sighted. The easy pary has just ended. | 2022-02-21T16:20:35 | 2022-02-21T13:29:06 | 152 | 19 |
[WP] A new invention enables people to remember their dreams with absolute clarity. It turns out we were forgetting them for a very good reason. | My name is Liam and It's been four months since I last dreamed.
A lot of people set their alarms to wake up throughout the night, sleeping in half hour bursts, other people sleep in shifts, watching each other. I take Myclocin. Dreamless sleep. I have a good job and make good money so I get the pills. Others, aren't so lucky.
Last year some Chinese company invented a machine that lets you remember dreams with total clarity. I mean down to the details man. No ambiguity, crystal clear memories of amazing landscapes and experiences.
It became THE Christmas gift. Then you could record your dreams and upload them to youtube. And that's when things started to fall apart, that's when we started to notice them.
We'd never noticed them before. I think it's because in your dreams you're always focused on the doing. Taking that exam, driving that car, fucking that girl. We've never really paused and looked around the same way you might do on a Sunday morning walk. But they were there, they'd always been there, standing in the background, silently watching us. Holes instead of eyes, long fingers, teeth...fuck, so many teeth.
Maybe we did notice them thousands of years ago, way back when we were still lived in caves, maybe that's where our Gods and monsters came from. Maybe we evolved to forget them, muddled dreams gave them a camouflage to hide behind. But not any more. We saw them standing in the background and edges in our dreams and everyone else's. I thought it was one of those internet memes at first, like slenderman or something. People with too much time on their hands photoshopping their dreams for cheap likes and shares.
But they were real, and when we finally noticed them they started to notice us. They stepped out of the peripheral, reached out with those long, grey, cold fingers and....took people.
I know we won't last, we can't fight them, turning off the machines did nothing. People queued, fucking queued up in lines on the edges of buildings and bridges like they were waiting for a bus to come and take them away. Instead they jumped, the roads and canals were full of red-black carnage every morning.
So we don't dream. We wake each other up, or we take turns, we drink coffee like it was water, we inject, we pop pills, anything to stop us from dreaming.
But it hasn't worked, I can feel my mind unraveling like so many others before me. I need to get some natural sleep. I need to dream. But I don't dare. I'd gladly give up food and water if I could dream and give my brain what it needs. Instead I stare into my computer screen trying to remember what I was trying to do. I don't trust myself behind the wheel of my car. I walk everywhere now, a stumbling, mindless walk like everyone else.
We look like a zombie apocalypse shuffling from place to place.
People have started to hallucinate. Not so much from sleep deprivation but dream deprivation, and some people just...snap. Some old lady in town just went for it out of the blue, no one was shocked. We watched her run into the street screaming, desperately trying to get hit by a car. She'd managed to gouge out one of her eyes before she was hit. Fuck knows what she was seeing. I helped drag her out of the road, her mashed up eye in one clawed hand. We said nothing.
The hallucinations are bad but what's worse is...I think They can...I think They're starting to come through now into the real world. I guess any dream is enough for them, even a hallucination.
I saw the first two this morning. Behind me in the bathroom mirror while I was brushing my teeth, two long-limbed pale faced...things. Watching me with those holes instead of eyes. Yawning mouths full of needle thin teeth.
Four months to get to this point. And I just can't let them take me. But I can't go on.
The line is efficient. We shuffle forwards. Some people scream on the way down, most don't. I think it's because they're happy. Happy to finally sleep without dreams.
[Part Two](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2yfezw/wp_a_new_invention_enables_people_to_remember/cp9me7z)
[all writing shizzle](http://www.reddit.com/r/steelicarus) | The device was unassumingly small.
Terry Marman thought it looked a little bit like a tiny toaster. If you squinted slightly, you could almost confuse the input ports at the top for tiny slots for bread.
"Ready?" A young, fresh faced Scientist was looking at him with an unrestrained eagerness. Terry was in no particular rush. He saw neither the application, nor the market for such a device and was only part of the study for the somewhat meagre compensation.
"I suppose." He answered gruffly.
"Any questions before we start, Mr. Marman?" an older, more stubbly scientist asked as he gestured towards an uncomfortable-looking, sterile-smelling bed.
"Yeah, actually. How does the thing work?" He asked more out of mercy for the younger scientist, who seemed to be jumping with excitement and who wasted no time in answering.
"It's quite simple, actually. It emits a specific combination of alpha-beta-theta-delta brainwaves attuned to your own brain pattern, which will cause your memory centers to activate during the sleep."
Terry blinked at the young scientist. No understanding crossed his weathered face. "Right." He lay down on the bed.
There was no more small talk as the scientists bustled around the room, one placing the device on the shelf above Terrys' head, and connecting some kind of cable to it, as another dimmed the lights in the room.
The two scientists stood side-by-side, and the one with the stubble held out a sleeping pill to the prone man.
"Take this, Mr.Marman. You'll be out for eight hours, and after that you're free to leave."
Terry shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable against the hard mattress. He would definitely need the pill to even entertain the idea of sleep.
He grabbed it, and swallowed it, without water, and lay back down. A few minutes passed, and he was out.
The scientists left the room, muttering about neurology and brainwaves.
*******************************
Eight hours passed without incidence, and Terry stirred. The two scientists looked up from the observation room, and the older one gestured at the younger one, who gestured back. A short argument ensued.
Finally, the younger man stood and entered the room of the sleeping patient.
Terry sat bolt upright, and the scientist jumped at the sudden movement.
"Lights!" he called, and the room bloomed into painful illumination.
Terry was looking around, wide eyed. He stared slowly around the room, never blinking.
He started laughing. And laughing. A great, throaty cackle that echoed through the research laboratories halls.
The scientist in the room moved towards him, offering a glass of water. "Sir? Do you remember?"
Terry swung, and knocked the water flying.
"I remember! I remember it all!"
He started laughing again, and then uttered a groan and began convulsing.
The older scientist hit a button in the observation room, and a medical team sped towards the sleep studies room.
"Sir! Please try and calm down!" The young man held Terry down as best he could, but he easily outweighed him, and each convulsion threw the scientist around. "What happened?!"
Terry shrieked, and laughed, and groaned, all the while never shutting his eyes - pupils darting angrily around the room.
"I remember it all! How can we have dreams of entire lives and universes?!"
The scientist was not trained, and not ready for this, and Terry's final convulsion spun the younger man onto the floor.
"Time goes slower in dreams! So slow! Ahahahaha!"
And Terry fell dead just as the medical cart crashed through the doors. | 2015-03-09T07:30:57 | 2015-03-09T07:06:56 | 2,479 | 17 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | Major Meridith: we attack the Emus.
Dm: Alright, that will be your Lewis guns, thats going to be your Dex Mods, Plus your proficiency modifiers. Roll to hit.
Major Meridith: ... 1, plus my mods thats a total of 7.
Dm: the emus dodge your gun fire, they taunt you. They run south beyond your sight.
Major Meridith: we chase after them.
Dm: Alright, lets say you roll for nature to see if you can predict where the birds are going next.
Major Meridith: I uh... rolled a 16.
Dm: Yes thats enough. You track the birds down near Campion. You spot hundreds of them.
Major Meridith: we set up our guns and stsrt firing at them.
Dm: can you make a dex throw for that?
Major Meridith: god damnit, another 1. Plus my modifiers its a 4 total.
Dm: your guns jam only after firing a couple of rounds. And now you're a disgrace to your country.
Major Meridith: but at least none of my men suffered casualties!
Dm: you just wasted 3000 gp worth of ammunition, the quest reward for this wasn't even that high!
Major Meridith: Damn Emu's ill get them yet.
Dm: that'll wrap up this session. Well resume next time. There are OTHER adventure hooks you know.
| DM: Ok Harold if you could just roll for initiative.
Harold: I rolled a 1
DM: ok the bowmen is first to attack you. He rolls a natural 20
Harold: so what’s happened?
DM: He has shot you in the eye, you’re dead.... on the plus side it will look fab in this tapestry I have been putting together of the game!
| 2018-05-29T09:12:26 | 2018-05-29T08:51:37 | 51 | 13 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | Erryn relished the moment. There was something cathartic in holding between his tendrils the terms of surrender, in knowing that you hold the only hope for a dying race. In that moment, he held the power of life and death for the fifteen billion humans on the planet below, as well as the one who sat across the table from him now.
The two of them sat alone on a station that had been prepared exclusively for the purpose; only the two negotiators and the cameras that would broadcast the surrender to the Universe. Beside them, the wall was filled with a viewport that showed the surface of Earth spinning away from them, as well as the tremendous fleet that floated menacingly above.
The human negotiator took the treaty from Erryn and began to read. The terms were simple: humanity would submit to Tallnian authority in perpetuity, yielding all valuables within a solar cycle. It was a method that had worked for them many times before; all throughout the arm of the galaxy, Tallnian planets could be found, constructing the great fleets that would go on to expand the Empire.
The negotiator carefully placed the treaty on the table and sat back, his eyes closed. From his training, Eryn recognized this as defeat. The man who had been so pure in the House of Diplomacy, who had insisted that every conflict could be solved there even as the Tallnians slaughtered his people on the Plutonian Outpost, was silent.
Erryn placed a pen on the table. He took special pleasure in making the defeat feel as familiar as possible.
The negotiator sighed, then spoke. “I remember you from the House, Erryn. You always told me that war was beyond law. That the strong would rule, and the weak would deserve it.”
Erryn laughed. “And I was correct, so it would seem.”
The human leaned forward. “You said that peace was a weak race’s game, and that only a coward would waste his time with its rules.”
“I did.” Erryn was getting impatient now. “And I do not see how this exchange will benefit us.”
“I just wanted you to understand something, before this is all over.”
“Oh?”
“Rules are not for good races to make themselves feel better. Good races, ones that are truly altruistic, don’t need rules.” He took a deep breath. “Today, you’ll understand why humanity has so many.”
At that moment, a blinding light stabbed through the viewport. Erryn shielded his optic spots, surprised by the sudden brightness. He thought that their star would rise on the other side of the planet…
The light faded, and Erryn looked back outside. The Tallnian fleet was gone, replaced by a rapidly-expanding sphere of rubble. He fell back into his seat in shock.
The human was already on his feet, halfway to the hatch to his ship. He looked back at Erryn, the pain evident on his alien features. “I am so sorry that it came to this.” Then, a moment later, he was descending back to his planet.
Erryn sat there in shock. He hadn’t moved when, an hour later, a piece of the Tallnian flagship’s great cannon tore through the station, incinerating the treaty and the Tallnian who had brought it | Our victory was decisive!
We conquered earth within only five months. The last of their military died within the first week. "Humanity", as they called themselves, will surrender to our demands. We will take their colonies. We will take their homes and make them ours. We need new breeding grounds. We need new farmsteads. Their moon would do nicely for the former and the planet itself, once terraformed back to its primeval pre-oxygen state, has enough space to host the latter.
We must expand. Our children need a new home. The old one is used up. Need a new one. New home. Humans turned out to be weak and frail. No exoskeleton. Frail endoskeleton. No resistance to acid. We can kill them with our spit and blood. We can corrode their weaponry. Their ship hulls are no match for rapidly accelerated excrements.
They died to our weapons. Our scanners found every single human on the planet. My rout killed the last one. I fired the last shot. They screamed. I ended the war. I am a hero. I will earn honor. They only have small ships left. Their ships are weak. No good armor. No good weapons. Much power but wasted on niceties. Wasted on clean air and food. Wasted on weapons that don't hurt much. Wasted on light and warmth. Wasted on luxury. They were peaceful. They stopped the council. They stopped our death. We grant them death in return. What an honor. To die by our hands. Humanity will die out and will be recorded in our history. We will propagate. We will spread. Their past will spread with us. We will... What is that?
A ship. Human ship. Coming down far away. Damaged. Nearby but too far away. My rout is safe. Must aim artillery at impact site. Must kill humans. I wanted the last shot. I got the last shot. They deny me my honor.
Another ship. Coming down. Another ship. Another ship. Another ship. All coming down fast. Too fast. Won't stop. Are firing boosters. Will all crash. They seek death. We won. We... what is that ligh- | 2020-02-07T14:00:31 | 2020-02-07T13:30:24 | 106 | 15 |
[WP] You've just been kidnapped by a supervillain. She's not really evil; she's just really socially awkward and had no idea how to approach you otherwise. She even made you dinner! | Chiron woke up with a pounding headache, slightly blurry vision, and his arms tied to his sides. It was business as usual, really, outside the headache. He was used to being kidnapped, but most of his attackers took more care when it came to handling him. Everyone and their mother knew what his biggest weakness was: actually being hurt. Miraculous healing powers and not a single ounce of it worked on himself.
After Doctor Dynamo had publicly broken his arm in three places and he hadn’t just fixed it himself, things had gotten significantly less painful when it came to being kidnapped. He didn’t get kidnapped any less, but it was usually with kid gloves on. The man had even sent him an apology card.
“You’re awake,” somebody said. He blinked a little bit, and the lingering dizziness vanished. So did the blurriness, just as a woman stepped in front of him, the tied-up healer. Not superhero- he’d been very particular about the image he’d wanted to portray when he started helping people. Superheroes had invulnerable skin and great strength and didn’t die when somebody threw them through a wall. She had on a suit of white and silver armor, clearly modeled after plate armor. With… some additions. He was no expert in medieval armor, but he was rather sure the glowing lines around the joints weren’t period-appropriate. Or all the spikes. (He couldn’t tell if it was some sort of powered armor, or if it was just for the looks and she was super strong and tough already. She had enough muscle that she probably didn’t need powered armor to snap him like a twig, though).
Her lips were curved in a cruel smirk, and her brown eyes glimmered with what he assumed was probably malice. It was usually malice. “Finally!” She laughed, in a suitably villainous fashion. It was the sort of laugh that the press ate up, the sort of laugh that most heroes paused to politely let run its course. Evil laughter was a stock part of the industry, after all. “I was wondering when you’d come to,” the voice continued. “You never saw me coming, did you?”
“Well,” Chiron said. “No. I was shopping for groceries and you hit me in the back of the head.” Monologue interrupted, the villain sputtered in indignation. He looked at her. “If you needed healing, you could have asked. I don’t discriminate who I help.” He recognized her now. She was one of the newer supervillains on the scene. Moonlight, or something. Honestly, he felt underdressed for the occasion- a new kidnapper, and he wasn’t even in his costume. Slacks and a t-shirt felt inappropriate for this sort of thing.
“I… no, I do not need any healing!” She said with a slight growl, and his eyes widened. He'd been kidnapped quite a few times, but it always revolved around his powers. They needed healing but couldn't go to a hospital, a sick relative needed healing, a friend needed healing, and so on and so forth. His powers were useless in an actual fight, but the ability to heal almost any injury if he kept working at it was a valuable ability. If she didn’t want him to heal her, that generally meant something significantly more sinister was in store.
Abruptly, his mind was flooded with all the things one could use a pocket healer for. Most people left him alone, if only because trying to monopolize a man who could bring back the nearly dead with a minute of skin contact would bring heroes and villains alike down on you. But a new supervillain on the black might be ignorant enough- or just bold enough- to try something that might… end poorly for him.
He swallowed nervously. He hadn’t feared for his life in a while. It wasn’t a nice change of pace.
“I have brought you here to ask you a question. I have observed you healing- villains, heroes, civilians alike.” Moonlight gestured a hand, one clad in a steel gauntlet, at a covered table that no doubt held numerous torture devices of mad scientist make. The supervillainess- who had gone from ‘normal armored maniac’ to ‘dangerous armored maniac’ in the space of a few seconds- grasped the tablecloth laid across it, and pulled. And there, glinting in the flickering lights of what he assumed was some sort of murder basement, there was-
\-dinner for two. “... Do you want to have dinner with me?” Moonlight asked.
“What?” Chiron asked. "What, like in the 'no Mr. Bond, I expect you to dine' kind of way?"
“... Well.” The supervillainess looked at him nervously. “Something like that.” She leaned forwards and hooked one of the talons of her metal gauntlets into the rope that bound him and tugged, his bindings coming loose immediately. “You are a great, selfless healer, and I wished to get to know you better! And I knew that, while you heal villains, you do not normally associate with them at length until you have healed them multiple times, and...”
“Is this a date?” He asked, in a slightly shaky tone. This was not what he was used to. He’d been kidnapped before, but not… for this. “Did you ambush me in the supermarket, knock me out, and carry me to your lair to ask me on a date?”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. He was equally quiet. It was rather awkward until eventually, she broke the silence with a cough. “Yes. What of it?” Moonlight crossed her arms for a moment before she pulled out a chair for him. “You may leave if you do not wish to dine with me.”
“That’s not how kidnappings work,” he said, his mouth on auto-pilot before his brain could catch up. “But- um- I suppose so.” He’d been kidnapped by somebody who looked like a gender-bent high-tech version of Sauron. For dinner. “Do I… know you, or… have I done something for you, or…?’
Moonlight walked to the other end of the candlelit table- and that was something he’d only just noticed. There were candles. How they hadn’t been snuffed under the tablecloth, he couldn’t say. “You don’t know me. But…” The supervillain- somebody he now distinctly remembered watching take a right hook from the Steel Defender on television without flinching- swallowed nervously. “My mother. She couldn’t walk. You healed her. Along with a few other people I know.”
“Oh,” Chiron said, eyes wide. “Most people would’ve sent flowers.” The armored supervillain leaned over the table and handed him a single rose. He blinked. “You know, on second thought, I can’t believe I thought you were going to dissect me.”
“You thought I was going to what?” Moonlight asked, eyes wide with- something that was now apparent- was not malice, but instead a combination of embarrassment and nerves.
The rest of dinner went pretty well after that minor miscommunication was smoothed over, really.
\------
First time posting anything here (I think), *let's go.* Healers getting kidnapped is a favorite trope of mine that I never see indulged enough, really. | I’d been stuck in many a hairy situation in my time as “the world’s greatest hero”. From getting stuck in an alternate dimension ruled by sentient dinosaurs, to being mind controlled by an alien robot I thought was my friend, to that time I had to kill a giant blue naked guy who thought he was a god.
But none of those instances were as confusing to me as the one I was in now. For one, I was tied up. My paws have destroyed asteroids and punched through atomic super lasers. This must have been strong rope. And then the other major confusion…
I was seated in a dinner table. A table full of fine made Italian food. And my surroundings weren’t an evil lair in the middle of a swamp or a dusty cave or an alien spaceship. But they were in fact somebody’s house. A nice house at that. The furniture was all arranged in feng shui and yet it was clearly lived in. Then my captor walked out of the kitchen.
She was a tall young girl with long curly red hair. Her fall sweater was orange and nearly matched her hair and she wore black sweatpants and fluffy rabbit slippers. In her hands was a bottle of wine that seemed small in her tall frame. She looked at me both confused and a little surprised.
“You’re awake! Oh - oh deer, um… hello Mr. Lionheart.”
“You’ve caught me you fiend. When I get out of this bind you will have no mercy.” I said with a snarl.
“Oh - oh wow, yeah about that… so, my name is Julie. I’m a scientist at STAR Labs - well, more like an intern. But um, like, okay don’t get mad please?”
The girl set down the wine on the table before taking a seat next to me. She fidgeted a bit in her seat, her hands tapping together, her feet shuffling under the table.
“Did you really kidnap me?” I asked in genuine curiosity. The girl blinked then looked away. One of her fingers twirled a lock of her long ginger hair. And was she shaking a little?
“Um… um… um… um okay. So… I don’t know how to start. Okay….” The girl took in a breath. Then she turned to look at me.
Holy chiz. She was blushing. This dinner table. Oh no.
“Miss!” I shouted with a roar. The girl made a squeak almost like a mouse. I startled her.
“Look miss. I am flattered, truly. But I’m a lion, you’re a human, and well my lifestyle isn’t suited for a relationship right now. Not to mention what my pe-“
“I’M NOT TRYING TO DATE YOU!!” The girl shouted suddenly. Now it was my turn to be surprised.
“Oh?”
“Mr. Lionheart, I-I-I-I, I was the one who designed the serum that Dr. Cersei used to weaken your superpowers. That’s why lately you’ve had moments where you black out and go savage. Its not just a quirk, this supervillain used my work to get to you.”
Ah. Now that explained A LOT. It had been only a week but the times Id black out and I supposedly caused vandalism and terror were enough to be a concern. Even those Super Friends and Avengefold guys tried to take me out to stop me. Of course they were no match but it didn’t make me feel good to pummel them to the ground.
“Wow… that damn Cersei using her machinations. Well, Id better go kick her ass and put her in prison again.” I stood up, and the chair still binded to me by rope.
Julie stood up. “A-A-Actually I made this meal so you can be cured. After I shot you with my ray gun it dampened your abilities. And now with the food laced with the secondary medicine it should rid your body of the nanomachines.”
“You made this meal… to cure me?” I looked back down at it all. All of the pasta, the chicken, the bread, and even tiramisu.
My stomach growled. My tongue hung out. For humans that was improper. But for lions? This was custom.
I tore my bindings in one swoop. Julie shrieked as I roared in delight.
“This… is… EXCELLENT!”
I was on that table like I would be on a zebra in the savannah. I’m sure Julie was watching me but I didn’t care. It was free food, who was I to refuse? And if it was a trap, I’d make sure Julie knew not to cross me again. Even if I had to come back from the dead. Again.
When I finished I say back in Julie’s chair gulping down her wine. Julie sat next to me holding the bottle and drinking straight out of it. She seemed a little better now that I’d eaten. Although her table was now a mess of plates, sauce, and other broken things.
“Ooo. This was de-LIGHT-ful. Thank you Dr. Julie. You’d make a great wife if you weren’t human.”
“Thanks… I’ll try and take that as a compliment.” The girl said, again sipping the wine out of the bottle.
I noticed her face was still red. Her eyes a bit glazed. With my biology I couldn’t quite get drunk like a human could (or an ordinary lion for that matter). But Julie seemed a bit inhebriated. She must have been stressed out what with shooting me with her ray gun, carrying me probably several blocks and up a flight of stairs to her apartment, and devising a cure for my problem against Cersei.
“I know what will cheer you up Ms. Julie.”
“Huh?” Julie raised her brow at me.
_____
“Isn’t this fun!?” I shouted over the wind as I twirled through the sky.
Julie was tied to my torso by the rope she had left over and screaming at the top of her lungs. Her arms and legs kicking about as we soared across the skyline of Nuevo Lunes.
“THIS IS INSAAAAAAANE!”
“The height of insanity is true sanity!”
“No it is noooooooot!”
I laughed as we soared by. | 2021-10-21T17:09:22 | 2021-10-21T16:11:45 | 110 | 29 |
[WP] You're watching the TV when the news breaks. The supernatural is real! Secret societies of monsters live among us! The masquerade is broken! As you sit shocked, your cat turns to you and says "OK, now we can drop the pretense, I do have a number of complaints..." | I blinked twice and looked down, struggling to process what had just occurred. Not only what the TV just said, but my brain was struggling to parse the rough baritone voice that emanated from my previously very alto cat.
"I assure you, this is not a clever rouse. Your meds are not interacting and causing you to hallucinate, and you're certainly capable of understanding English.", the cat said again.
I sat there in disbelief. I looked at the cat again, completely ignoring the TV. "What is it Max? Do you want more food?", I stammered out.
Max let out a large sigh, then jumped up on the ottoman in front of me. "Well, about that. I'd like to discuss my grievances. We've been together for eight years, and while it has been a highlight of my life thus far, there are a few things that need to change.", Max said in an undeniably British accent.
"Um, ok...", my mind was still struggling to parse that I was talking to my cat. "I have a question for you though.", I said, somewhat shyly.
"Ok, what is it?", in a now annoyed very British accent.
"So you can talk, and while that in of itself is mindblowing, I have to ask... Why British?", I said. "Out of all the various accents to pick up, why one from the UK?"
"Well, to be perfectly honest, I'm not from here. I actually grew up in London. But more on that later, are we going to get to the list of my grievances or what?", Max said in a very pointed manner.
"Yeah, sure. Fire away. You've been my pet for the last 8 years, I kinda owe you one for saving me anyway.", I said. I was somewhat stunned at this newfound aspect of my best friend and feline companion.
Over the next several minutes, I was lectured endlessly about things from catbox maintenance, to request for more attention, with a quite long break to talk about food quality. Meanwhile in the back of my mind, I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that my cat wasn't a cat, but was perfectly happy being my friend. I guess I could qualify that as a win.
"And finally, please for the love of Cthulhu, get more tuna. Not everyday, but maybe once a week. Ok? I get you don't eat fish, but it's one of the finer things in life for me.", Max finally had finished up his list and the harshness in his voice had calmed down considerably.
"Ok, my turn!", I said excitedly. My mind raced over and over about all the various questions that this new arrangement had now opened up. Was Max a cat or something else? Is Max still Max or what?
Over the next few hours, we talked about everything. Max's past (well before me, anyways), what he was (an eldritch shapeshifting horror), his likes, his dislikes, and most importantly why of all people he chose me.
"You see, in the time I found you, I could tell you were one of the good ones. I needed a place to live, and you needed a companion so it worked out to be mutually beneficial. Of course, had I been incorrect and you were not one of the good ones, I simply would have eaten you and gone about my business elsewhere.", Max replied. "But here's the thing. I found you when you were freshly single out of a rather disastrous relationship. You were suicidal, and you needed someone. I was not much better, having been attacked and left for dead by a pack of wild dogs near a construction skip, and you just happened to find me before I departed this mortal coil for good. Had you not found me, I would certainly have perished."
It was true. When I found Max, I was in the process of cleaning the apartment. I had already planned how I was going to kill myself as I had nothing to live for. I wanted to make sure that whoever found the body wouldn't have been subject to the horrible condition I had let things get. After the bloody divorce, I had let the apartment get to a horrible state, each room was filled with trash as I further deteriorated. That last trash bag full of garbage changed my life for the better. I had walked out to the skip and tossed the last bag of many when I found this rather pathetic wet kitten come out from behind the skip with a mangled paw. Of course, I couldn't let a dying kitten suffer, so I took him in and made him comfortable while I raced to find the nearest ER vet that could see him immediately.
"The truth of the matter is simple. We saved each other.", we both said.
"I love you, my strange alien bat cat.", I said softly.
"As I love you, my bizarre weird human.", Max replied. | The light of the tv screen danced off of Sam's glasses, the only light aside from what little sunbeams could sneak in from behind the shuttered windows. A bag of microwave popcorn rested against the arm of the couch, a single handful of which had been absentmindedly dropped on the floor to mingle with the empty pizza box. Sam was completely still as he stared at the scrolling headlines and panicked news anchors. "Supernatural confirmed real as mythical monster sighted in West Virginia! Cults and hunters race to find other cryptids!"
"MARTH YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER MORON!"
Sam jumped backwards, upending his popcorn as he scrambled to get away from his cat, who Sam had not even noticed there previously. The cat took no notice, as it was bent over a leather-bound notebook, frantically scribbling with a pen clutched in it's black furry paw.
"Should've guessed it would be him, uppity bastard, thinks he's better than everyone just because he can *fly*. Probably thought he could go back to the good old days, buzz a couple of tourists, knock down a bridge, even though I told him how stupid it would be. Now I have to drag him to President Nessie, probably already a world convention happening, what a nightmare."
By this point, Sam had already back to the furthest corner of the room. "Sh - Sh - Shadow?"
The cat whipped around, teeth bared. "It's Bram, and shut up, I'm thinking!" He turned back to his notebook. "Prosecuting that idiot's going to get hung up in all kinds of red tape, and, lord, we're going to have to pick out an ambassador aren't we? Maybe Sasha, she's already well known, being *Bigfoot* and all, and pretty personable at that. Photogenic too, ha ha."
Sam, having finally recovered from his shock, stood up to his full height, and grabbed the closest weapon, a single throwing dart lodged into the wall about five feet away from the dartboard, and wielded it menacingly. "Alright Shadow, what the hell is going on here?"
Bram slammed the notebook shut and leapt to the sofa's arm to face Sam. "Isn't it obvious? I'm a magic talking cat. Now if you excuse me, I have to get out of this shithole to actually do my job."
Sam turned bright red and took a couple steps towards Bram, slashing his dart from a fencing stance. "What the hell are you trying to say? I swear I'll..."
"You'll do what? All you've ever been able to hit with that dart are newspaper clippings of your brother's success. And you know what, while we're here, I have some complaints to make. The only reason I was ever here in the first place was because you cared so little that I could lay low and sneak out to do my job without you noticing. It took you a week to set out my litter box, you kept forgetting to feed me, and now all that's pointless because of FUCKING MARTH!"
After his final yell, Bram rose into the air, and was enveloped in a halo of bright yellow light. Sam jerked back and covered his eyes as the soft strains of corporate elevator music filled his ears. When the light faded, Sam looked to see his cat striding out the door, dressed in a miniature suit and tie with a briefcase strapped to his back. Pausing on the threshold, Bram looked back and said, "I know you only got me because you thought it would make you more attractive to potential dates. But trust me, it's going to take a whole lot more than just a cat."
Then Bram turned the corner, leaving Sam to stand stunned, clutching his dart. After five minutes of mental turmoil, Sam, seemingly in a trance, stumbled back to the couch and turned back to the news, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the ground where the bag had spilled. | 2021-06-17T20:19:31 | 2021-06-17T15:11:01 | 110 | 75 |
[WP] Your childhood bully once said you were nobody. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he had a reality-bending superpower. Now he's the world's strongest superhero, everyone calls him The Truth, because his word is the absolute truth... Nobody knows about his past, and Nobody will make him pay. | "Now, Mr. Truth, thank you for agreeing to this interview. Do you mind if I call you Mr. Truth?"
"That's fine."
"Right, Mr. Truth. Our readers are dying to know more about you. You can just make any statement you want, and it becomes real. Besides you, Nobody has that power, correct?"
"Yes, absolutely correct."
"Amazing. They say that Nobody is stronger than you, is that correct?"
"Er, yes. That's right. Nobody can defeat me."
"And Nobody can resist your ability?"
"Some can partially resist it, but nobody is fully immune."
"And you're totally immune to other powers? Nobody has power over you?"
"That's right."
"How fascinating! So, if you were to declare that the moon was made of lemon custard, would that come true?"
"Er, no. Even I have limits."
"So, some of our readers have asked why you don't just say that the villains are surrendering, or that criminal acts are now physically impossible. Would those limitations be why?"
"Haha, yeah. But I can shut down their superpowers, make them super heavy, and cause them to pass out from a lack of air. Sometimes their own powers interfere with that, to a degree, which is when I have to resort to delivering them to justice with my fists."
"Wow! One last question, Mr. Truth, if you don't mind me asking? Do you recall when you were in fifth grade? There was another child whom you bullied relentlessly. One day you beat him to the brink of unconsciousness while yelling about how he would always be nobody, and you were going to grow up to be a hero. Do you recall that?"
"What? Where did you hear that?"
"Nobody told me. By the way, your voice will no longer work. I've been keeping track of you for a long while now, biding my time. The air around your mouth will not enter. Did you know that you literally changed my name to Nobody? All of your nerve endings will double in sensitivity every second. You made my parents forget I ever existed. The pull of gravity on your body will double and switch directions every five seconds until you die. You deserve this." | ... Nobody is stronger than me... Wrong choice of words; I think as I keep breaking his bones...
-------
We were kids; he was enormous, a foreshadow of who would he become... Me, small and meek...
"You are nobody..." He utters after hitting me and taking my money in the school yard...
I lay curled, still in pain... And keep like it till it is late...
There is nobody coming for me... That is ok, I live near, I can walk...
But, as I reach my home and try to get in, I feel it closed... There is a board showing a realtor... That is not right...
I look for my family, but I can't find any of them... Their names aren't in the phone directory...
Truthfully, I am now a nobody... Forced to survive in the streets as best as an eight years old kid can in a city...
He is the reason WHY I am now... Nobody knows what that monster is capable, nor his past...
And Nobody WILL stop him...
----
He grows, both in size and out of his bullying ways... He realizes his gifts... And turns to heroism...
Pfft, as if...
Oh, but something he still loves doing is bragging...
How amazing he is, how strong, how righteous...
And I snap... | 2021-11-23T11:51:41 | 2021-11-23T09:58:24 | 109 | 50 |
[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 Me,
I miss you. I miss the way you used to be. You used to care. You used to try your hardest. Now all you do is say, I'll do it later. I can see that you're struggling. Yet, you have more friends than you ever did, and you know what you want to do with your life.
But still, when it comes to day-to-day stuff, you don't care anymore. You still show up on class on time, but you do your assignments in class the day it's due, or stay up all night finishing that huge end-of-term assignment. Your car has bald tires, because you can't be bothered to get new ones. You have dozens of personal projects you started ages ago, then lost all motivation to complete. And you've shaved twice in the past month.
All you do now is spend your time browsing Reddit, reading the news, and watching YouTube videos. It's like you've given up. Yet, when you actually have a _purpose_ to keep trying, I've seen you move mountains. I've seen you learn to become a proficient programmer from almost nothing in two months, and be better than the other guy at work who's been doing it for ten years. I've seen you try. Sometimes you failed, but just as often you succeeded spectacularly. Now, all you CAN do is fail, because you can't succeed if you don't try.
It doesn't make sense. You are somewhat intelligent, but squander it on useless nonsense. _Who cares_ what somebody on the Web has to say? I don't care, so why do you? It literally has no bearing on your life. Why do you keep watching random YouTube videos about stuff you're never going to even try because you're sitting there watching YouTube videos?
Maybe all you need is a real challenge. Something that you truly care about. After all, it's hard to care about deadlines and challenges you're set when you know they're completely artificial and arbitrary. But you KNOW that completing post-secondary school is important, and critical to you finding a good job. But you still don't care. Deep down, I know you care, but you need to care _now_, not later.
I remember how you used to race to complete everything you were set so that you could hand it in early. I remember how you used to start something and actually FINISH IT. Now you get three chapters into a book, set it down, and never pick it back up. I remember how you used to sign 15 novels out of the library, and finish them all before the week was up.
Please come back.
I miss you dearly,
Your Future Self | Hey Em,
I'd love to say I've changed, I'm new, brag about things I've done. I'd love to say I've grown.
But you, with your disarming blue eyes, somehow always knew. You always knew when I was making things up, when I was caught in little white lies. You'd encourage some.
And I'd love to say how different I am, from when we last saw each other five years ago. We were excited when we met, we were kids; when we last saw each other, we were adults, we had grown, but we were still ourselves. But you never cared about words.
You cared about actions. You cared about us, about people, about how the coolest kids at the bus stop were still kids, waiting at a bus stop. My record shows I was the one with the loud mouth, insecure, but always willing to stick by anyone down on their luck.
After I left...after I went soul-searching, I took your advice to heart. I stopped saying how good I was, or how I changed. I showed it, from 2010 through today. I never did it for my ego. I never did it for pride.
I did it after some kids walked into my life, told me I was a jackass, and helped me change. I did it for the cool kids... the ones I cut ties with.
So...please. Let's meet up, chat about the old times, and see where things go. Let's let the chips fall where they may.
-M | 2017-11-05T22:02:16 | 2017-11-05T19:02:54 | 1,095 | 55 |
[WP] Unlike most people with super powers, you're perfectly content to mind your own business while using your powers in normal everyday activities. However the heroes seem to have decided that your disinterest in world affairs is suspicious and you're clearly faking it to hide your true agenda. | Sarah stretched as she "jogged" at subsonic speed through the countryside to her home. She was careful with her pace as she felt the wind at her back. The 20-year-old empowered had finally finished her college semester and was excited to kick back and relax at home.
It was an odd thing for a superspeed girl like herself to want to laze around in most people's minds, but most people also thought those with her powers should be heroes. Sarah was content to do puzzles and play video games, unconcerned about saving others.
It was a good thing to do, but it bored her.
That last part of her stance never seemed to be understood by the Saviors of Light, a super team that always knew the exact wrong time to recruit. From traffic jams when she was commuting normally, to her dorms when she was in the middle of cramming for a test, the group always came to recruit her when she was in a position to want to use her powers in the exact opposite way.
So it was no surprise when Beacon and Blazer were waiting just outside the barn she called home in full costume. What was a surprise was they had already prepared to fight; Beacon's fists glowed with his power of light manipulation while Blazer was cloaked in his flames.
"So this is why you continued to turn us down? It makes sense now, and we shall bring you to justice!" Beacon shouted. He was a massive mountain of a man, an icon of heroics personified. . . if he could bother to listen to someone not stroking his ego.
Sarah skidded to a stop as she heard the two. "This again? Yes, I have superpowers, no, I don't want to join your club, no, I won't go to SoL headquearters, and NO, you *will* not force me. You will be sorry if you try."
"Can't you consider helping people?" Blazer sighed as he raised his fists. He was a nice, next-door kid type of guy, but with how fresh he was on the scene, a pushover for more established "heroes."
"Yes, so you can harass me and my family can be in danger while Wendy up the street gets her cat stuck in another bloody tree. No thanks." Sarah scoffed as she moved to go around them
Beacon growled as he fired off one of his Light bolts with a shout. "THEN I HAVE TO TAKE YOU IN FOR QUESTIONING!"
Beacon's attack was fast, but to Sarah, it was a snail's pace. She sighed as she stepped around the bolt and moved for her home. "No, you don't. Now get off my property, before I defend myself."
Her answer was another light bolt and the start to a burst of flame. A flame now pointed at her home and the yellow grasses around it. *Don't these idiots know it was a dry season.*
She didn’t waste time as she moved, not with the subsonic speed of before, but fast enough that time seemed to stand still. She swept the feet from under Blazer as she threw a palm strike into Beacon, bringing them down as she redirected their attacks from her residence. She spoke again, malice starting to drip into her voice.
"*That* was a warning. If I see any of you Shit Outta Luck asswipes again for your silly costume party, you will regret ever meeting me." | Don't know if I'm doing this properly. Please, forgive me.
A Rose by One Name...
I come from outside of the universe. I am printed on two hologram universes, thus. Many beings are like me, want to settle down a bit on one world, take a break from the endless task of printing universes to collect data and patterns.
Humans aren't my favorite creatures. Why couldn't they be like the world of dots or the world of endless painting? Instead, they are the lords of errors, forgetfulness, and wounded curiosity. I wish I had analyzed more data so that I might have swum in a sea of mercury, the most expensive place.
So, the superpower...
I was given the name "Kaela" because the aesthetic of the letter causes one to think as well as the unusual spelling. The nice way it calls out gives me an endearing advantage. Many people can't pronounce it, so there is a humble response. Every time I was for coffee, people tell me they are happy to see me again.
Busy, busy, angels.
My friend sat down and began talking. I only kept her around so that I would appear integrated and could avoid the angels.
I have a flyswatter around for this kind, hit their points, and scrambled their minds. Effing angels. They needed to turn to dust.
I got up.
"How are you going to pay?" My friend asked. She knew I was behind on bills.
"Easy, Ma'am!"
"Don't worry about it, Kaela," the woman at the bar said. "We've got plenty of soda water. Would you like some chips?"
"No thank you, ma'am," I said back and hopped off the chair.
"How do you do that?" My friend asked. "Are you hiding something?" She seemed worried. I could only imagine what gears in her human mind turned.
"She's afraid she can't spell my name on the drink and doesn't want to insult me."
"Totally rad. Do teach."
"They'd be too jealous of you, dear."
"What?"
"You'll have to find your own weapon," I said. | 2021-08-17T01:03:12 | 2021-08-16T21:53:30 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] The Loch Ness Monster washes up on the shore. Half of it's body was eaten.
Edit: It's its. Not it's. I blame my phone's autocorrect. | All these years of chasing mythical beasts around the world and never catching anything on film but shadows and muffled static were taking their toll on my faith. Sure, I could tell you about the time I chased Bigfoot through the mountains of Colorado, or the days I spent frantically hiding from a hungry Chupacabra in the Mexican jungle, but why would you believe me? There's no evidence but my ramblings, which were starting to sound crazy even to myself. But this is what I was made for, to fearlessly catalogue the evolutionary outliers that twisted the reports of men into legend and hyperbole. So I found myself floating along through Loch Ness on this crisp fall day, trying to catch Nessie on film.
It had been a dull outing. While the scenery was majestic, the air cool and the sightseeing tremendous, there were no creatures outside of the usual that I had been able to photograph. I was getting ready to call it a day until I heard the screaming.
Looking at the shore, there were two children frantically waving for me to come closer. I fought through the calcium deposits on my old joints to row over to the shore, disembarking as the soft ground squished beneath my feet. What on Earth do we have here?
"Mister, mister! What is this?"
My God. It was her.
Nessie had been ripped to pieces, her entrails spilling out from a gory wound from her gut. Her head and neck were gone, burns around where they used to be. But it was her. The flippers were there, the hard scales worn down from thousands of years of existence. Nothing else could look like this, could be this size.
I started taking pictures, ignoring the demonic howling coming from the hills.
"You kids need to get out of here. You know what this is, don't you?"
The two boys nodded, fear in their eyes.
"Of course. The Loch Ness Monster. My parents give tours here for the outsiders. But I...I never thought she was real."
"As real as the sky above you, kids. Get out of here. Whatever did this must be..."
There it was again, the howling coming closer. I looked at the trees, and the entire woodlands around us started collapsing. Massive, ancient trees falling down like they were but stalks of wheat in a field being pushed aside by a farmer's hand. The kids were gone, panicking and sprinting away. I couldn't move; my mind wouldn't let my fearful body take one step away from the corpse of Nessie. Snapping as many pictures as I could, Nessie's killer emerged from the woods.
"The Worm of Linton. Magnificent."
Wingless unlike many dragons, the Worm looked at me with the contempt of a beast that knew it's superiority to the supposed master species of this planet. Like a snake, it coiled up as it's head adorned with three horns rose up into the air. It roared as it dove down to devour me in a storm of fire and teeth.
Good thing this camera is nearly indestructible. Whoever finds this is going to be in for quite the surprise. | Th' gam was terrible.
'At they waur. Cakey bampots cooldnae dreich mah gran's auld cunt. Ah hink ah was blooter'd 10 minutes in.
What's 'at?
Is 'at Nessie?
Ah hink so.
Didne ken it was real.
Nessie's a right bludy mess.
Whit coods hae dain 'at tae 'er?
Somethin' awfy.
Whit shoods we dae? Divit monster hunters ur half uir economy.
Hink abit it. We pit up Nessie in a museum, 'en teel a' fowk there's a waur monster tae hunt. A' fowk will ken she's real. An' we micht hae enaw bunsens tae gie it ay thes bawbag.
Soonds guid tae me. Lets gie 'er inside.
--
Had a little fun with a translator. It's quite possible that it makes no sense and horribly distorts the native tongue.
Decided to post the American translation I entered in:
--
The game was terrible.
That they were (in reference to a team playing in the aforementioned game). Daft idiots couldn't wet my grandmother's old cunt. I think I was drunk 10 minutes in.
Whats that?
Is that the Loch Ness Monster?
I think so.
I didn't know it was real.
The Loch Ness Monster's a bloody mess.
What could have done that to her?
Something awful.
What should we do? Idiot monster hunters are half our town's economy.
Think about it. We put the Loch Ness Monster in a museum, and tell everyone there's a worse monster to hunt. Everyone will know the Loch Ness Monster's real. And we might make enough money to get out of this ballsack (of a town).
Sounds good to me. Let's get her inside.
| 2014-03-15T05:56:38 | 2014-03-15T05:41:49 | 73 | 44 |
[WP] You live in an alternate universe where a person's worst fear becomes a tangible threat in the dark. The rich possess ever-illuminated mansions while the poor conserve power for the dreaded night hours. Just as the sun is setting, your entire town's power grid fails. | *The dark is neither good nor evil. The dark is a mirror.*
"If you fear, you will be taken. If you face your fear, you will survive," the whisper echoes in ears half-filled with the ever-increasing drumming of a frantic heartbeat. Behind me there's the slithering masses of a veritable armada of cockroaches, lurking insects seeking places to devour flesh or deposit eggs. They will burrow into my skin and make it their hives.
But the dark does not recede.
And the skittering masses leave the place to another, deeper fear.
"We're all dead," the familiar faces of my family whisper to me, "Dead because of the dark. Dead and you weren't with us."
Pain, grief, they shear through my soul with a strength no mere blade could ever possess.
And then the deepest fear of them all materializes, and I stand there, alone.
Forever.
Only, forever doesn't last that long. The howling winds of solitude recede, the darkness starts fading out, leaving the place to a blossoming dawn.
I am not alone there. I find others as the rays of the sun warm my skin, and I hug the few that survived, the few whose fears were so incredibly dangerous, and yet also merciful.
For the greater fears do not belong to the realm of the physical. They aren't insects, monsters, assassins, or other terrible creatures of hell given flesh and form and purpose.
The fears of the mind; the fears of loneliness, solitude, of standing alone in a room in which nobody listens to you, nobody cares, of being nothing more than a speck of dirt, a nihilistic worldview in an ocean of selfish desires.
And yet, because of that, there are survivors.
*The dark is a mirror to your deepest, darkest thoughts.*
*However, just like all mirrors, it reflects with the aid of light.*
***So make your thoughts the darkest, and you'll be blinded to your own fears.*** | Panic slowly erupted through the town as the power generators faded out. Like a 1960’s television set powering out. Light was nowhere to be found, and the panic slowly faded to terrorised silence.
“Oh no..” I gasped, the fear slowly building inside me. The night has come, and with no light, our fears come true. My fear comes true.
Quiet tapping in the darkness reveals the truth. Like chairs being dragged across the floor, I screamed as the silhouette hung over me, its scrawny shape revealing my darkest fear. The figure moved across the room, shaking its giant head as it teases at attack.
Noises could be heard from the attic above my bedroom, my bed looking across from the hallway, the hatch to the attic looming above. I knew it was there, I knew it was open, but I was blind as to what now stood under it, conjuring my death....
My biggest fear....
A Ladder.
| 2019-01-17T14:36:59 | 2019-01-17T11:59:08 | 44 | 13 |
[WP] Compared to the rest of the galaxy humanity is by far the friendliest. To many star systems they are considered "the good neighbor," and are known for their helpfulness. One day an oblivious system declares war on humanity, only to find half of the galaxy responding to humanity's plea for aid.
EDIT: Tfw this prompt gets 100+ upvotes and still no story
EDIT: Nice, we got a story.
EDIT: Wow we got a lot of stories! Thanks to all who contributed to this thread.
| "Daddy! Look! Shooting stars!"
Joseph Barker looks up at the night sky and feels a chill run down his spine. Indeed, there were shooting stars. But years of work developing some of Earth's defense systems meant he knew they weren't meteorites. He watches in terror as Earth's defense grid burns. "Yes Jacob. Shooting stars. Let's go inside."
"But I want to watch!"
"We need to go inside Champ. Let's go."
"Aww!"
A Joseph begins to reach for son, his phone rings. Taking it out of his pocket, he checks the number with increasing dread and accepts the call. "I thought you'd call, Sir. I'm watching the sky now. I assume the Last Measure failed as well?"
"I'm sorry Joseph, it did. We thought we were prepared. Your work was everything we asked for. But they were too powerful. Every fleet we sent was just brushed aside. The defense grid just pissed them off. And the Final Measure only managed to dent their fleet." The old voice on the other end of the phone seemed to age further with every statement. "It's the Elurians."
"I see." Joseph falls silent for a moment to watch his son staring up at the sky. He savors every second of childlike wonder on Jacob's face as a tear begins to make it's way down his cheek. "I see." he repeats. "Take care, Richard. Tell your family..." He stops, unable to come up with the words in the face of the crushing hopelessness.
"I will. You too." It was a lame reply, but Joseph understood. "I'm heading home. I--"
The sudden pause prompts Joseph to look up. Amongst the falling stars a new star flares into existence and then blinks out. "What was that?"
"Joseph! A fleet just dropped out of hyperspace."
"Richard, I saw the dump-flare from here. There's no way I should be able to see that flare from ground-side."
"I'm telling you the truth."
"It would have to be an enormous fleet to make a flare that large."
"Joseph, it's the Beta-Linals."
"It's can't be. A flare that big would mean they brought every ship they have in a single jump."
"Judging by the readouts I'm seeing, they did. They're transmitting, I'll play it for you."
As the translation systems make sense of the alien broadcast, a generated voice begins to speak, "Humans. When our colony on [Hera 3] faced annihilation from a falling moon, your ships helped us save our people. For that, we offer you the hearts of your enemies!"
Joseph is stunned. The Beta-Linals were evolved predators; they only shared their kills with family. Even a symbolic sharing of such an important part was unheard of. "Did I just hear what I think I did?"
"I heard it too. But against Elurians? They're throwing their lives away."
"We should tell them to turn away. We can't let them do that."
Suddenly, in the southern sky, another brilliant star is birthed and dies. "Joseph!"
"I saw it!"
Another generated voice, this time higher and clipped. "Debts owed are heavy chains. Thought they chafe when worn, they teach us greater freedom when cast off. Your people escorted the plague ships when none would give them a berth. You gave freely of your medicine and guided the lost back to their home. We thank you for the chains of debt that weighed us down that we may offer them back in your time of need and lift both our peoples higher."
"I can't believe this. The plague ship relief effort was nearly a century ago!" Joseph regarded his phone as if it were something he'd never seen before.
"Kilnans never forget a debt. The entire navies of two species against the Elurians. Maybe--"
Another brief star shines in the sky. And then another. And another. Three become five. Five become ten. Ten become twenty, and then Joseph loses count as his vision blurs from the tears filling his eyes. His phone begins to play message after message as each People declare their thanks for a past help and their intention to repay it at Humanity's hour of need. The combined navies of dozens of species would eventually be known as The Great Fleet. But now, at this moment, it was an outpouring of thanks; good deeds made manifest. And the Elurian fleet began to burn.
Joseph held his son tight, looking up at the sky as countless shooting stars streaked across the sky, and on his face was a look of childlike wonder. | Supreme Admiral Tel'reg looked at the message they had received from the humans.
"Earth is under attack from the Arians. All fleets warp in to provide immediate aid."
The poor humans must be panicking. Tel'reg remembered one engagement he had a few decades ago with the Arians. Five of their most advanced ships had attacked a single ship that was destroying a mining colony. Three of their ships had been destroyed before the sector fleet had warped in to help.
The humans had panicked so much they forgot to send the message through the diplomatic channels. Tel'reg thought about if he should go help. His entire fleet would be no match for even a quarter of the Arian fleet. Most likely his entire fleet would be destroyed. He would loose his life, and his empire would be taken over by those damned Omicronians.
But if it wasn't for them he would have lost his life anyways. 7 years ago, a plague hit his species that would have wiped them out. A highly contagious mutation of mad bow disease, it had wiped out a quarter of his species before the humans had shown up with vaccines for EVERY SINGLE BEING in his empire. The plague that had left his people screaming for help, and made his own generals start planning a coup disapeared within two weeks. Mankind had asked for nothing in return, simply telling him that they use to have plagues every few hundred years.
There was also that time his reactor had a meltdown during his trip to a neighboring empire, and the humans showed up with a brand new reactor. Or that time when...
"Sir, there is an Omicronian fleet incoming." A scared looking ensign handed him a tablet showing the readout of the system. Tel'reg immediately started barking orders at the people around him, until the viewscreen started displaying incoming message. Tel'reg answered it.
"The fuck are you doing?"
"Besides picking up your mom for a date, I am just passing through." The hidious alien spit out. "We are going to help the humans. Let us pass unharmed, or you shall be destroyed."
"I am going to help the humans too. And your ships are so slow, the humans would be destroyed by the time you get there."
"The Ferengi are already almost there, and the United Twilek Republic are on their way. They will survive until I get there, and the firepower of my fleet will allow us to beat the Arians back. Then the humans will celebrate us as their heroes."
"Not if my ships get there first." Fel'reg shut off the broadcast. "Send a message out to all ships in our fleet, we are warping to Earth in 2 minutes. Warp 9.9."
"Sir, maintaining that speed for 205 light years would burn out our warp drives as soon as we pulled out of warp-space."
"I know. But we will be the first ones to help the humans." Fel'rag knew that their ships were the fastest in the galaxy, being over 30 times faster than the next fastest race. That combined with their close proximity to the humans means that their ships would be there in 10 minutes.
2 minutes later their fleet of over 800 ships started warping towards Earth. Fel'rag started creating battle plans in his head. 10 minutes later they dropped out of warp, alarms blaring about the burnt out warpdrive. Fel'rag took a look at the sensor data, and gasped.
Hundreds of Arian ships layed in smoking wrecks around Earth. An Earth fleet of around 50 ships were chasing the rest of the Arian ships past their giant moon, taking out ships left and right. As a Ferengi fleet warped in to help, a message from the humans popped up on his screen.
"Hey friend, sorry about us sending that message to everyone. There was a glitch with our communication systems. I noticed your warp drives are burnt out, do you want help repairing them? Our shipyards are top notch." | 2017-03-26T09:19:46 | 2017-03-26T09:09:42 | 74 | 35 |
[WP] Describe a well known story from the perspective of the antagonist. Try to conceal the actual story till the last line.
Fairy tales, legends, tv shows, book, etc. | My whole life I've been a slave. My mother was a slave too, so I never knew another way.
When I was young, I was happy to subject myself to the will of another. First my mother, and her master.
Then, the travelers came to my home and took me away. I went willingly. They taught me I had power, but they insisted on limiting how I used it. At the end, they were just another kind of master and I was just another kind of slave.
I grew stronger. I made a difference. I fought battles and won them. I even won her, even though it was forbidden. She is gone because I wasn't strong enough. I learned that day that I can't trust myself, and acting on my own desire brings only disaster. That day, I surrendered myself completely to the will of another.
But now I stand with my latest master, my final master. The master I've had since I became the person, the thing, I am now. The boy who served those others, who knew her, who killed her, I thought was long dead. For so long I have believed all that remained was my master's servant.
I look now at the anguish on my son's face as he learns the lesson I did so many years ago. It is pointless to fight against my master. His will is unmatched, his power irresistible.
And yet...
I am weakened, but I still have strength. Without the force of my rage and my master's will to sustain me I will surely die, but perhaps I need not die as I have lived, a slave.
I have spent my life serving others, others who did not deserve it. I find now, looking at my son writhing on the floor, that I feel something stronger than fear, stronger even than the anger and regret that have dominated my actions for so long.
I will act. I will do what I should have done so many years ago and act to stop this madness, not for myself, but for my children. I do this of my own accord, because it is the right thing, not because any master demands it.
I go now to become one with the Force. May the galaxy forgive me. | From the very walls he came, invading my home. When I awoke this morning I didn't know I would be fighting for my life, all to keep him away from what I was sworn to protect. I wasn't prepared the injuries, god the injuries, I don't know how much longer I can hold off this invader, how much longer I can survive, I can barely move. He turned my house into a weapon, riddled with cruel traps of his design. Where did he even get explosives, how'd he learn to maneuver my home better than I ever could? I can hardly get a good look at him, he managed to turn every pursuit, every capture, every time I thought I was near victory into another opportunity to destroy a part of me, staying only long enough to gleefully carry out his punishment. The sadistic bastard! But I have a duty! Right here, in this room, in front of the fridge he has fought to hard to raid, bloodied and mangled, I make my last stand. You will rue this day Jerry, you will know that this house is protected and the name Tom will burn in your memory as your worst nightmare. | 2014-06-20T09:34:04 | 2014-06-20T09:09:42 | 42 | 14 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | "For the hundredth time, my name is not supposed to be a sly reference to my genitalia!"
"Look, kid, no one's gonna believe you. Fact of the matter is, you're either goddamn brilliant or denser than a neutron star for choosing that handle, and it doesn't matter. You have it, and your job from now on is writing euphemistic copy for The Shallot."
"I don't even know what that is."
"Someone thought it would be cute to spoof a satire site, but make the humor about dick jokes instead of, you know, anything actually funny."
"What if I'm no good at that?"
"Then you'll fit right in."
"It's just my name, for Christ's sake! I'm a big dude and it's my literal, actual name."
"Jesus, you really are that dense, aren't you?"
"I can't help how people see my name."
"... I don't know what to tell you. Actually, I do. Go watch everything the Wayans Brothers ever made, really soak in the adolescent filth, and you're well on your way to being an expert dick joke slinger."
"I can't afford that."
"Kid, we have them on the server here. There's a room where they're always playing."
"What's it called?"
"What?"
"The room where it's playing."
"It's the fucking viewing room."
"I just thought maybe it was called 'The Ball Pit' or something."
"Are you fucking with me?"
"I might be."
"Get out of my office." | We met in the room of a thousand fountains all 140 of us. We looked around for the original sure enough he was here. "Alright gentleman I have gathered you here today to adress the growing unrest across the galaxy at this time. Now I can't do it alone but with all of you I can, but we have to work together. Sound fair?" We all nodded and whispered agreements amongst ourselves. Then on cue we all turned to leave we knew what had to be done. The galaxy could barely stop one Revan how would it do with 140. | 2016-02-22T09:41:21 | 2016-02-22T09:22:45 | 91 | 10 |
[WP] A genie grants 3 wishes to someone with the condition that the person they hate receives twice the same. It can't be used to harm them. You're the 'hated person' and you have no idea what's going on... | I woke up, got ready, and prepared to go to work. But I decided to turn on the TV first, just to see what traffic might be like. I was greeted with a view of my front door as they read off the breaking news that I had just inherited trillions of dollars from multiple, anonymous sources. I was now the richest man in the universe apparently. In disbelief I logged into my bank account. $10,000,000 sat in my checking account. My mouth hung ajar. Apparently that was literally like a penny to me. Answering just one of the many phone calls I had received over night, I found out that I had enough money to literally buy the USA, Russia, and China. And that would just be a drop in the bucket for me.
Opting to do the sane thing I stayed in the house all day, calling work and telling my boss to shove it as I quit. He kind of saw it coming though in all fairness, what with my wealth now making me an instant celebrity.
Surprisingly the media never got into my small 3 bedroom house. And so I curled up on my bed and watched some much needed Netflix, catching up on some shows I hadn’t seen for awhile. It was a pretty good time too. But as I laughed at the man berating the other man, calling him girl names and stretching his syllables, I realized I was floating above my bed. In fact, I suddenly realized I knew how to fly. Which was pretty damn cool. But it still meant it would take some amount of time to go grab a beer from the fridge. Poof! In an instant I was in front of my fridge. I grabbed a beer. Poof! I was back on my bed. Teleportation!
At this point I was pretty sure life had gotten as good as it could get. As the night came and I finished dinner, I decided it would be a good idea to take a shower, just in case I had to talk to some of the media for some reason. As I hopped out into the steamy bathroom, I heard my cell ring. I picked it up.
“Hey George,” a woman said from the other end.
“Who’s this?” I asked while drying myself off.
“Your sister-in-law of course,” she replied. “Your brother doesn’t know I’m calling, but I think it would be a really good idea if you two got together. Time to bury the hatchet.”
“I’m a bit busy at the moment,” I said. This was total bullshit. My brother didn’t have a wife. You’d think the media was smarter than that.
“I’ll talk to you later then,” she said before hanging up the phone.
I walked out back to my bedroom. On my bed were two beautiful women, both smiling and waving me over. I was about to ask who they were when I remembered. They were my soulmates. I hadn’t even realized a person could have two soulmates. Apparently I did. I smiled at them, then picked up my phone and called one of my lawyers I now had working for me.
“Is polygamy legal?” I asked. I apparently had two wives now.
“Yes sir,” the lawyer said. “Well, at least for you. Your friend the President pulled some strings and you are legally allowed to have two wives.”
“The President’s my friend?”
“Yes sir,” the lawyer replied.
“Cool, thanks.”
I hung up the phone and sat on the bed with my two wives. I still have no clue what is happening. But I have two wives, all the money in the universe, and the ability to fly and teleport. I’m not sure I care. But if all this weird stuff is happening, perhaps that woman was my sister-in-law. I hadn’t seen my brother since the holidays and it was about time we got together again. He just always seems grumpy every time we’re together, but I’ve got no clue why.
-334 | Like any day in December, it felt like it could snow any second. My steps were stiff, and there was gum stuck to the bottom of my left shoe. Not a great start. My suit was starchy as well. It clung to my shoulders and made my tie scratch my throat. That's when it started to rain.
I sat down under the glass cover near the bus stop. The car came on time, which was a blessing. Very few were on the bus today... am I forgetting something? It'll be nice to avoid stares today. I look over to a man with a stiffer suit and starker demeanor. He sits beside me. "All clear, sir".
My hands lay pressed against my suitcase. What people didn't know, was that today it was entirely empty. It had been for weeks. Doesn't matter, only a few more until my inevitable promotion. Just keep up appearances. Speak confidently. The littler people know, the littler they become. Let's keep things that way.
This rain is growing intense. My driver needs to slow down. "careful Jeff". As it decellerates, we begin to hydroplane along our street, and a bit off the side. Sometimes nature works against great men. No one's god will stop me. I have work to give, after all. That's what they need. Jobs. Work. That's what freedom is all about.
My new office is just down the corridor. I hope the coffee's ready. Wow It's really pouring out there. Perhaps I should check the weather.
"Record precipitation around Puskatawn County, which may cause some floods due to the drought from the last two weeks. Hold on. Our Doppler is just picking up a massive storm over Washington. Businesses and officials are being prompted to leave as soon as necessary. The city is flooding. The capitol is-"
A dried piece of gum floats beneath my desk. The heavy, wooden door across my office is creaking. Oh.
"this was news 20, thanks for tuning in."
The phone rings.
"Honey! I have amazing news! They said twins! Please let me know when you can get here. I love you so much. Bye!"
My heart is beating its way out of me. My fingers nervously fiddle with the lock on my briefcase. Twins. That shouldn't have happened. Those were just stomach cramps yesterday.
The water waves the phone from my desk. I suppose it's time to snap out of it. After wading across my office, the door busts open. My... Boss? I guess he's my boss. Why is he just standing there? Help me get out of here! His brows are shaking. His face is red and stoney. That's when I notice it. Sets of Benjamin's floating out of my briefcase.
Well. How about that.
"It's not what you think, Barry-O!" | 2014-11-30T12:28:13 | 2014-11-30T09:53:17 | 56 | 22 |
[WP]: Intergalactic olympics are gathering. All creeds and cultures of the galaxy are arriving and greeting each other. Suddenly a fleet of spaceships appears, blasting We Will Rock You. Everyone freezes. The humans are here. | The problem wasn't that the humans were there. The problem was that their myriad of cultures had developed forth and sent everyone of their champions with them. While, say, The Tarsary, who were known for exemplification in the culinary arts, and a diverse selection of pan flutes, programming, and general dance would send a handful of their best athletes, The humans took on a completely different, and altogether more annoying tactic.
For every single olympic event, they sent at least one person. While Humanity was from a far flung corner of the universe that didn't interact much with others, (not from lack of trying, but simply intergalactic positioning made their trade mostly insular, with their nearest partners being uplifted races of their own creation) it was during the olympics that they put on display everything a human could do.
And it wasn't that humans were even that good at the obscure sport of Carnellis, where people slung deactivated land mines across the surface of pools of lime-water, with the intention of knocking other floating land mines away from the center of the pool, (based, of course, on the legendary toss made by Lord Tynellis, whose brave action during the battle of Trennori saved his father's vessel from being breached by separatists.) nor was it that humans were particularly good at most of the games on display. It was simply sheer force of will. Every human that arrived was in the peak of condition for the sport.
And it wasn't even that they were rude about it either. This is the height of human culture; in the large macroscopic view of the galaxy, they weren't exceptional at almost anything they tried. The galactic standard, in their bizarre way. The Jovi were the masters of culinary craft, but the human chefs would manage at least a bronze almost every time, putting together some bastardized version of the best cuisine in the galaxy, haphazardly assembling things in a manner that pleased even the segmented eyes of the judges, clicking their pedipalps against one another in preparation.
But what was exceptional was that despite never, in the history of their attendance, sweeping the golds, or the platinums, or even the electrium metals, the humans never give up.
So it was that every year the humans arrived, there was only one winner for most total medals earned per species; Humanity. All brass, bronze, copper, and a few other lesser medals, but every year, they beat everyone else out in sheer volume of competition.
Then they throw the best damn parties in the universe. The Olympic authority would like to remind you that the Peace Office will be checking IDs at the door this year, so if you would all please not set the city on fire this time....
And don't take the humans up on their own sports. Satellite Jousting is not as big of a joke as they would have you believe.
Thank you for tuning into Your Astral Olympic Channel. We welcome you to tell us what you think with your tablets about our experimental history segment. And now, for the games!
-----
https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/ for more tiny bits like this.
Part 2
https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/comments/8fmtoo/space_olympics_2_there_will_be_jousting/ okay so someone wanted more of this have some space jousting | The three-hundred strong fleet came to a halt; the entire galaxy watching for what they'll do next. For a moment... none knew who these ships belonged too. The Warlords of Hor'cron, who swore not to come? The Fiend beyond the Void, who has finally returned from his million year exile? The children clutched flags of their homes, and waited. The adults stood strong, resolute from years of training, capable of feats of immense strength.
Then, from the silence, breaking its sweet serenity was a drum. A beat, an echo in on itself, floating through the air like a butterfly lost in a whirlwind. Lastly, came the voice of angel, and with it, hope to the galaxy.
Freddy fuckin' mercury and the humans were here.
A single beam shot to the ground - and a man dressed in an open silk shirt, tight pants and crisp shoes materialized on the field. The entire arena erupted into a crescendo of screams and joy, the only thing louder the heavenly call from above.
"Kickin' your can all over the place," he sang, as the Silk-Shirted man burst into movement like a volcano, his arms dancing to every beat of the song, and a thousand men carrying drums appeared behind him. Each one moved in unison, a scripted ballet uncharacteristically pristine amidst the chaos of the bustling arena. With every passing second more instruments came to the field, more humans to the dance and more screeching throats to the endless madness around.
The song came to an end. They all bowed after their performance, and the galaxy, in kind, clapped for humanity.
Slowly the athletes made their way behind the scenes and saw the competition - The Desert Runners of Hydralix, known to break 100m in half a second, Titangolems of Ixil 8, who with just one finger could lift more than any human could ever attempt and the Gillfolk of The Underplanets, who can simply breathe underwater. Each of them stood amid each other, gigantic and fascinating, unbeatable and unrelentingly powerful - All smiling at the Humans of Earth.
We may be no competition amongst the stars; but we put on a good show.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Check out /r/Rhysyjay for other neat stuff. | 2018-04-28T08:32:47 | 2018-04-28T08:08:01 | 5,018 | 1,749 |
[WP] The battle was hard won, dead laying everywhere. You see a young solder write something in the dirt using the blood from his own bowels. A demon appears next to him and says "What do you wish!", the young man simply says "Someone to be with me until I'm gone". | She steps out of a pillar of flames, and her nostrils flare at the smells of blood, smoke, and viscera. A battlefield! Inhaling the sweet scent of mortal suffering, she casts her gaze about. Her summoner lies at her cloven hooves, pale and trembling, clutching his guts with one hand and pressing the other's index finger to a summoning circle in the dirt.
She clicks her tongue. He clearly isn't long for this world, which means her enjoyment will be brief.
"What is your desire, mortal?" she asks, turning up her nose.
He looks up and gives her a watery smile. "Someone to be with me until I'm gone."
"To be with you?" She hums thoughtfully. "Shall I seek the enemy who maimed you and bring them here so you can watch them bleed out?" The idea perks her up. Maybe this mortal can entertain her after all.
The man shakes his head frantically. "That's not what I meant! Just stay with me." He slumps back on the muddy ground, his strength fading. "Please... It won't be long, I can feel it."
What a spiritless fool! She wants to scream in contempt, but instead, she irritably bats away an incoming arrow with her wing and sinks to her knees beside him. "If that's what you want." A short stint in this plane is better than nothing, she supposes.
He smiles faintly and reaches for her hand. She squirms in discomfort and turns aside so she wouldn't have to see that doltish expression. Her gaze lands on the rudimentary summoning circle in the mud. No bindings, no safeguards... Of course, the idiot didn't have the time.
The corners of her lips quirk up as a powerful realization rushes through her. His wish is the only limitation of the contract. *To stay with him until he's gone*.
Freeing her hand from his, she presses it to his bleeding stomach and unleashes her power. Unholy flames burst from her fingers, knitting flesh, restoring organs. The man doubles over and screams in pain, then slumps back. He pants for air, his face slowly regaining color.
"You... healed me?" He sits up and prods his stomach in disbelief. "But that's impossible! The First Interdiction—demons can't extend your lifespan—"
"Not as a bargaining chip, no," she says triumphantly. "Had you asked me to save you, I would've laughed in your face and watched life fade from your eyes. But since you didn't... well, let's just say I decided to help you of my own free will."
"But *why*?" he asks. "Aren't you creatures of utter selfishness?"
"Oh, how adorably clueless." She stands, yanks him to his feet, and looks him over critically. Not too hard on the eyes, although in bad need of a bath. "You wished me to stay with you until the end. As long as you're alive, I get to enjoy myself in your plane without any limits to my powers."
His face pales again. "Oh, no."
"Oh, *yes*." Her lips part in a fanged smile that makes him shiver. "You're going to live a very, very long life at my side. Now tell me, who is waging this war and what's your place in it? It's been so long since I wet my claws with mortal blood." | For a moment, the battlefield was silent. It was too early for the carrion birds to come, the blood freshly spilled, the ringing echoes of steel on steel still fading away through the canyons.
"I'm afraid you've wasted your wish, human," I said. "Djinn don't have the power to compel mortals. All I can grant you is strength or riches, but those won't save you from succumbing to your wounds."
The young man smiled weakly, and I had to lean in close to hear his next words, softer than the wild winds that howled through the steppes.
"Well, y*ou're* someone, aren't you?"
His words took my breath away. It had been many years since someone had treated me as more than a slave bound to their bidding, and many more since the day I had sold my soul for power. But the man was right. I was someone, even if I was beyond redemption, even if the gods no longer listened to my pleas.
"I could end it now, if you like," I offered. "The pain. The suffering. You would pass quickly, and leave this mortal realm."
His eyes fluttered open. "No," he gasped. "No, I want to stay. Every moment on this earth is a gift, and I will hold on to it for as long as I can. Can't you see the sky? It's beautiful."
Even surrounded by the horrors of war, he still found beauty in the world. No doubt an artist, drafted to fight another man's battles.
I hadn't cared much for beauty, when I'd lived. I'd only cared about power. The world had been wasted on me.
As I listened to the spaces between each breath grow longer and longer, I told him stories. I spoke to him of the foolish young man that I had been, wandering the Ashari desert while seeking glory, seeking fame, seeking power. I told him of the bargain, of the debt, of the chains that now bound me to servitude. I told him secrets that no mortal man had never known, stories that no mortal man had ever cared to ask me. And when the last rays of the dying sun illuminated the battlefield, the young man took his last breath.
With my task complete, the chains that bound me to the mortal plane vanished. There was nothing left holding me here, and I closed my eyes as the Nameless Realms swallowed me once more.
\---
/r/theBasiliskWrites | 2022-10-31T17:09:17 | 2022-10-31T15:57:16 | 943 | 272 |
[WP] Aliens have finally reached Earth and, per Intergalactic Law, have sent their most average champion to win the planet. A device is sent to find the most average human to accept the challenge and duel for the fate of Earth. It's you. | It was all over the news, but I was in the bathroom, and Bill was the first one who called when I came out.
“What do you mean it’s me?!” I yelled. “How am I the most average man on earth?”
“I know, I know,” Bill said. “It’s depressing. Think about what that means for the rest of humanity.”
“All I do is sit around, drink beer, and get high all day. I don’t even have a college degree. I work at McDonalds for fuck sake.”
“I know,” Bill said.
I was terrified and tried everything to get out of it. I tried leaving the state the minute Bill hung up, but they pulled me over two miles down the road. I tried to escape a couple more times after that, but mostly I just felt really bad because my irresponsible fucked up life was going to result in humanity being enslaved forever.
They took me to see people from NASA, military people, CIA, FBI, I don’t really remember a lot of it because I was really, really drunk at the time. No one had any idea what to expect anyway because the aliens were unclear about what exactly was going to happen other than enslaving us forever if we lose.
The day arrives, and we all go down to the landing site, and this octopus looking thing in a space suit comes down a ramp, and I’m fucking scared. I was on a shitload of drugs because I thought I was going to die, and then in a strange computery voice, the alien spoke:
“Choose the competition,” the alien said.
Everyone looked at each other dumbfounded.
“Uh, I, uh what do you mean?” I said.
“Choose the competition,” the alien said.
I thought about it for a second, and then it hit me.
“Oh my god,” I said. “You mean I get to choose the game we play?”
“Choose the competition,” the alien said.
I held my head high and proud, smiled, and looked to the crowd that I was about to save. I waved to the TV cameras in the distance, savoring the moment. Then I turned back to the alien.
“Call of Duty Mother Fucker,” I said.
The alien spent months after that training, but it was useless. I spend all my time drinking, getting high, and playing Call of Duty. Noob never stood a chance.
| Aliens vs Humans one match to decide fate of earth. Rules are simple avg alien vs avg human. You might thing that rules are fair but this is deathmatch with rules that you can't live ring. So they choose me.
"Why did they choose me? I am lazy american who love eating chickens from KFC and watching kardashians. There is no way that I can fight. I am not working, I am sitting all they in home I never need to do any work."
The fight wasn't fair. We chosen our Avg from 7 000 000 000 humans, and they
had to choose only from 2 aliens. So what happend?
The fight is starting. "I see that slim, muscular alien with tentacles? What should I do. I started loosing breath and I felt chest in my pain... When I wake up in hospital. In TV there was news that we won but how? I was hero. "
"How did I won? It was simple when I got my heart attack my opponent taught that I was dead and he left ring. Thats why he lost, he broke the rules. I was still breathing. This is how I made earth great again kids. "
Ps. Sorry for my english I am trying to improve. My story is silly but mine.
| 2016-05-17T13:17:31 | 2016-05-17T13:05:01 | 35 | 15 |
[WP] After discovering you have a plethora of special abilities, ranging from control over electricity to breathing underwater, the FBI captures you for experiments. However, you only let them capture you, and frequently enjoy messing with the staff when they actually try to experiment on you. | Thomas walked past the three scientists in the room while focusing on what he called a thought projection. One of his many talents to manipulate what people saw versus what was real, and currently the chief of research and development believed he was cutting into Thomas' chest cavity aiming a scalpel with uncanny precision cutting into nothing at all actually.
"Suction on the anterior here, Carol." Thomas heard Jeff say as he walked out of the room still concentrating.
Thomas had watched several youtube videos about heart surgery the day before so creating a virtual representation of what the inside of his chest would look like would at least seem real. He had quite the surprise in store for them when they got in, but right now he was craving ice cream and he knew exactly where to get his favorite flavor from reading Carol's mind.
She often brought a pint of Cherry Garcia and would eat it at lunch in the level eight break room where most of the lead scientists ate their lunch. Thomas did not need anyone's keycard as he turned the corner and placed his palm on the magnetic locking device. All he had to do was discharge the capacitors at the same time while passing the right voltage through the RFID module. It was usually within the 4.7ghz range meaning it would need about 1.3 to 1.5 volts.
He sucked up the voltage of the caps, which tickled a bit and redirected it at 1.35 volts and the reader blinked red twice, he did it again at 1.45 volts and the reader flashed green beeping as he opened the door. Chad was in the break room and he stared at Thomas as he entered.
"Fuck you doin' in here?" Chad the janitor asked him.
Thomas trusted Chad because Chad had no dog in his fight against the federal government, the janitor, as far as Thomas could tell was just a family man trying to get his daughter back from a bitter ex wife.
"I'm hungry. Carol told me I could have her ice cream if I cooperated today." Thomas informed the janitor who was eating the latter half of his tuna sandwich.
"Yeah. Since when do you cooperate?" Chad asked him weary of whether or not to run off.
"I haven't...or well I don't as you know, no need to be scared of me Chad, if I wanted to hurt you you would be dead already. In fact, I have been meaning to talk to you about your daughter. I apologize for invading your privacy but sometimes I have no control over it. Once someone knows that you can read their mind they instantly begin thinking of the dark shit they have never told anyone or problems in their life they think can't be overcome." Thomas told him reaching into the mini fridge and pulling out the ice cream.
"Damn it Thomas, so you know then?" he asked Thomas putting down his sandwich.
Thomas walked over to the counter and grabbed a spoon from the drawer shaking his head in the affirmative at the janitor.
"The oncologist says she does not have long and my wife won't even let me visit the hospital." Chad said eyes welling up.
Thomas sensed a darkness in Chad, and a deep visual fantasy on the surface of Chad's mind of murdering his ex wife.
"Woh. Bud. That's a dark thought, there is no need for that, because I'm going to help you. If I recall the doctor told your wife it was the non lymph node kind of leukemia your daughter has. I've cured the lymph node kind twice before by reprogramming the white blood cells. I do not offer this decision freely though, I need your help to break out of here, my work is almost done." Thomas said digging out a chocolate cherry and savoring it.
'Prove it' Thomas heard Chad think, doubtful of what Thomas had offered him. Thomas just laughed and got up walking to the light switch in the room and turned it off the only light coming from the hallway through the window on the door.
"I have read over a thousand books on the internet about gene therapy and one of my many abilities is programming cell structure to do all sorts of things. The lightning bug is able to illuminate it's surroundings by producing a chemical called luciferian, I can do the same with my white blood cells." Thomas said in the dark.
A dim neon blue began flowing on Thomas' face outlining his arteries and capillaries until his entire body was glowing. The look on Chad's face was priceless.
"So it's true, you are a God." Chad said in awe.
"Nope, from what I understand I'm just a mutation. My brain and body is just different from everyone elses. According to documented records there are a few of us out there. Every major government knows it and they take out anyone who gets in their way to capture us, so it's important you know the risk of helping me. I cannot guarantee your safety if you decide to come with me. What I promise though is that without my help your daughter's chances of surviving are very slim. I will do my best to protect you and help with your daughter but the risk is very real." Thomas told him flicking the light switch back on.
"Yes. A million times yes." Chad said without hesitation.
"Okay then, follow me, we are about to laugh our asses off as Doctor Jeff and his two nurses find there is a little alien controlling my body where my heart should be. They are about to crack open my sternum, c'mon." Thomas said jokingly swelling with pride of gaining a new friend trying not to drop his ice cream as he began laughing. | ”Please lie down on the bed, Mr. Blake,” said the new doctor.
She was a precious little thing, barely out of the academy, with long hair in the color of motor oil, and nails in shiny crimson. Her eyes narrowed in weary concentration as she scrolled through my journal on her tablet computer.
“Everything looking good on there, Doc?”
“Call me Vanessa,” she said without looking up from the screen.
“You don’t look like a ‘Vanessa’ to me… sure you’re not a 'Grace' or a 'Holly?'”
She glared at me. “I know what you do, Crowley. How you act. I’m not some random newbie you can push around.”
“Whoa whoa whoa, hold your racing steeds, what happened to ‘Mr. Blake’?” I said, feeling a grin creep up on my lips. “I liked it better when you were all formal and polite.”
“And I liked it better when you were quiet. Let’s run some tests, shall we?”
I held up my hands in mock surrender. This was going to be a lot more fun than I had first thought. After I had found out about my powers, I cruised from town to town robbing banks, getting blind drunk, and fooling around with every woman I could find. It’s quite disturbing how easy things get when you can fly and lift cars. However, living the good life got boring quite fast, and when I woke up in the gutter one morning in a pool of my own sick, I decided it was time to check myself in – and by that, I mean take a vacation trip to Quantico.
“Careful!” I said when she reached for my arm.
She flinched and looked up. Her bright gray eyes scanned my face for meaning.
“Don’t burn your fingers,” I said.
“Is that another new power?”
“Sure, I just discovered it. Judging from your flushed cheeks and the way you’re sweating in my presence…”
She rolled her eyes at me. “You’re saying that you’re hot? How unequivocally original...”
“Your words, not mine.”
“Okay, Mr. Blake,” Vanessa said. “Let me just take your blood pressure and listen to your pulse. I don’t feel like playing games with you.”
“You’re right; playing games is childish.” I held out my arm. “Thanks for being formal again, I appreciate it!”
Electricity rolled through my skin and zapped her fingertips. She gasped and pulled back her hand.
“Did you feel that too?” I said. “The tension…”
She scowled and started scrolling through her tablet again. She crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair.
“What are you doing?” I said after a while.
She shrugged, her gray eyes fixed on the screen. She licked her lips absently.
“Ah, I see what this is!” I said and chuckled. “You’re not the first one here to give me the silent treatment, you know?”
“I’m not,” she said. “I’m waiting.”
Let’s wait then, I thought and leaned into the pillows on my bed. An hour went by. It was kind of peaceful having her there. I glanced at her face. She had a cute dimple in her left cheek and a tiny scar on her right eyebrow. I found myself liking her more than her predecessors. Despite her murderous looks and her fiery personality, she stood out from the rest. Everyone else would’ve left by now.
“Hey,” I said and held out my arm.
“No more shocks?”
“I promise.”
She nodded and strapped my arm in and started pumping. “Thank you.”
“No more games,” I said.
A smile danced over her lips and painted the sides of her eyes with tiny wrinkles. I don’t know what it was with her. I needed to know her. I felt like those gray eyes saw me for who I was – not just a freak to run tests on. Ever since I got my powers, I thought I’d lost my humanity. And even though she hadn’t said anything, it felt like she cared for me, like she had given me some of it back.
“Same time tomorrow?” I asked as she got up.
She nodded. “Same time tomorrow.”
She walked across the room and opened the door.
“You can call me Crowley if you want.”
“Goodbye, Crowley,” she said and smiled again.
“Goodbye, Vanessa.”
****
Check out r/Lilwa_Dexel for more stories!
| 2017-07-02T23:30:25 | 2017-07-02T22:58:49 | 494 | 174 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | The light was fading quickly, they needed to get camp set up. Mordram the warlock spoke an incantation, a small pile of tinder lit just below his fingertips. He began pulling some rations out of his pack. Aisha was busy praying to the setting sun, she wouldn’t help until the last glimmer of light left the western sky. Archibauld figured he’d at least use the little bugger until they decided what to do with him.
“Hey Eric, can you go get us some water from the river down there?” The orc perked up, he pointed at himself sheepishly, looking behind him to see if anyone else might be the target of the request. When he saw no one else moving, he hopped up; he immediately forgot the broken lyre that he had been trying, very unsuccessfully, to play.
“Elric fetch water? Yes, yes. Elric fetches the best water! You will see. The water for his friends! Best friends of Elric the music man!!!” He started galloping towards the river, only to have to turn back to grab the pail that he had forgotten at Archibauld’s feet.
Mordram spoke up once the orc was out of earshot, “Don’t get attached, we’ll have to do something about him soon. He’s a liability.”
Archibauld was setting up the tent, he noticed some blood stains on the yellow fabric, the original Eric had been carrying it,”He’s been following us for weeks—” Mordram’s eyebrow raised “—exactly, he wasn’t part of the ambush. He killed that bugbear once Eric went down.”
Aisha stood up, dusted off her knees, “I sense no ill will in him.”
“He’s going to slit our throats in our sleep, or bring a whole army of orcs down on us—” Mordram had set up a small pot over the fire, he just needed the water from the river.”—Also, I think it’s really creepy he’s trying to take over Eric’s identity.”
Aisha snorted, “He hasn’t hit on me a single time, so he hasn’t done that good a job.”
Archibauld moved on to his longbow, pulling out some oil and cloth, “Like I said, he’s been following us for weeks. How many times could he have tried to ambush us or bring his clan on us? I think he’s alone. Without Eric, we’re down one. The prophet said we needed four…”
Aisha jumped in, “Mordy, you didn’t even want Eric to come.”
“I don’t give a shit about Eric, he was a liability, too. I just don’t want a bloody orc staring over me while we sleep.” Mordram walked off towards the edge of camp, looking North to where they’d find their final destination.”—We do need a fourth…”
Archibauld clapped him on the shoulder, Mordram hadn’t heard him come up behind him, he hated rangers, “Thats the spirit, Mordy! We’ll have him sleep outside the tent, Aisha will let us know if she senses anything wrong with him.”
A rustle from the bushes alerted the three that their new companion was returning. He stumbled into the clearing with a full pail of water and three fish hanging from a string.
“Hullo friends of Elric my human person that I am! Hullo, Elric brings gifts of delicious fishes for eating with his best friends. Let Elric play beauty sounds while you burn delicious foods on fires because that is how humans like us eat delicious foods.” He dropped the water and fish by the fire, then hopped on his rock and began picking at the broken lyre.
Mordram exchanged a smirk with Aisha and Archibauld, “We’re very glad you’re back…Elric. Play us a human song for us to eat delicious foods.”
Elric chirped with glee, his grin taking up his whole face. | Finally....free. The thousand years of waiting, watching in this cursed statue at an end. An elf, rigid with agony as his persona, his spirit, his life is leached away. Now the malevolent spirit got his first taste of air, of blood, of form.
"Er.. Mynir, you ok?" asked a gruff voice, a question which did not raise much concern with the rest of the party.
"Death!" hissed Mynir, or the thing that Mynir had become. He stared at the
party balefully out of reddened eyes, his hands raised, claw like over his head.
This response was not unexpected, and with a nod of acknowledgement, Drake the barbarian turned away and followed the rest of the party. He dragged a small chest of gold, which would hardly pay for this outing, but he seemed cheerful enough. The dead bodies of the unfortunate orcs he kicked out of his path were likely the reason for that.
The Mynir thing was still reeling, remembering his last moments before being encased, the worst psychopath the sorcerer could find in this land, his victims so numerous they were uncounted, uncountable. (and horribly unrecognisable.) A suitable trap for the unwary, a terrible harbinger of doom with the face of a once trusted companion.
He followed the party into the fresh air, and stood a little apart as they settled a camp, built a fire, cooked a meal. A dwarf began singing a cheerful song, as jokes and banter drifted out into the cool night.
Mynir felt the hilts of two beautiful elven daggers in his hands. In a movement too swift for any but an elf to see, they cleared the scabbards and whirled around his head. Blood and screams followed. A mist of red exploded from a neck, a bone cracked as a dextrous kick twisted a knee joint out of place. A heart was pierced by a single blow. In less than a few seconds it was all over. Five bodies lay on the ground, dead or dying.
The silence that had descended over the camp was broken by Drake. "Holy Mother, how the hell did you.." He trailed off, staring in amazement.
The Dwarf leapt to his feet and rushed to hug Mynir, who accepted the affection with a small show of discomfort. "A sneaky ambush for sure, well spotted my friend. I always said you were a hidden treasure!"
For the rest of the group, the transformation of a sneaky, cowardly elf into a saving hero caused a fair amount of quiet consternation. Generally it was seen as a "good thing", considering the alternative. The shaman had cast her bones, and no harm was predicted... Maybe he had just shrugged a curse, or escaped a bedazzlement.
Mynir contemplated his situation. His new elf brain was clear and concise. and more importantly, his hugely unbalanced mental chemistry was gone. The Sorcerer was vastly mistaken. These people were his family now. Woe betide any who tried to harm them. Could he make amends for his past? He could try. | 2017-09-15T09:34:26 | 2017-09-15T02:54:33 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] Adam and Eve were the first and only children of Angels and Demons interbreeding. God feared them. That is why they were sent to be bound on Earth, by the most powerful of seals. Gravity.
Edit: for those people not liking the gravity being the seal: go fu.. Na just kidding, you can just think of something else being the seal. | "They did WHAT?"
The booming shout actually shook the room and sent a shiver down Gabriel's spine and up his wings. There's nothing quite as terrifying as raising the ire of the almighty, and Gabriel had just delivered some particularly devastating news. Yahweh had never been a subscriber to the idea of not shooting the messenger.
"Th-they... fornicated, my Lord." Gabriel felt dirty even explaining such a sinful concept to the most pure being in the universe. "Our own Uziel and Eisheth, the succubus. Multiple times, and they've produced two children."
"This is a disaster. This is unprecedented. Do you have any idea what these... these... abominations will be capable of? They'll be angelic one moment and demonic the next. They'll have a *choice,* Gabriel! Between good and evil. Imagine that."
"Well, perhaps, my Lord, we can take them in. Raise them, teach them to follow the light, hope for the best," Gabriel suggested gingerly.
"That would never work. They're too imperfect for Heaven. But they're not evil enough for Hell. I can only think of one solution."
So, not quite in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. He wanted to see if his theory was correct, if these chimeric beings would be not purely good and not purely evil, but some strange mixture of both.
He created a beautiful, lush garden with everything these new creatures could want, a place where they could live comfortably, in harmony with the sprawling natural world he had created just for them. To stop them from leaving, he removed their mangled half-demon half-angel wings, and placed a binding force around the globe that would keep them tethered to its surface. There was only one rule, planted by God to test the natures of the hybrids. They were not, under any circumstances, to eat from the tree God had placed in the middle of the garden.
Though the creatures were capable of both good and evil, they weren't totally aware, or capable, of either in their most extreme forms. The fruit from the tree would open their eyes fully to the extent of their abilities. They would understand the depths of potential human suffering and how to exploit it. The same was true for the unbounded extent of human joy. Upon eating the fruit, they would be able to exhibit the glory of Heaven, or plunge into the depths of Hell, depending on how they chose to live.
The plan was to drop them in the garden, explain the rule, and then observe, without interfering. Of course, things rarely go according to plan in the eternal war between good and evil. Would the creatures have made the choice they did, had there not been any interference in their world? It would have surely been a different story altogether, but alas, that is not what happened.
"Hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?" The serpent asked, writhing and hissing almost hypnotically.
And Eve began to wonder. | This is my own attempt at my own prompt:
In hindsight it all makes sense, the prophets who were just some throwaway angels, trying to get humans to believe in God and how good he is, to make us believe that he is our superior, that we should bow to him.
The dreams we were having at nights, being able to fly. Able to do anything. They weren't just dreams, they were visions of what could be. Like a bird thinking about how to fly in its cage, even though it never flew in its life. It knew it could.
The demons taking home in the minds of some of us who were weak, showing them dark magic, a small amount of power they had from the demon blood in them. Trying to get them to their side in the war of angels and demons.
It all makes sense if you think about it now.
The prophets talked about this day, the day of judgment they called it. The day where the earth gets destroyed and we stand in front of God, being judged for our sins. Our sins of being alive.
The day really came, Vulcanos erupted, mountains turned to dust, Oceans vaporized. The earth died, the seal broke.
God thought we wouldn't notice how he would try to send us to a new earth to seal us, the paradise he called it.
Some of us didn't notice, those who believed in him all along, but those who didn't, those who thought they would be sent to hell for sure became suspicious when they were told they could go to the paradise because God is all-forgiving.
Their suspicions gave them the edge, they noticed the powers that we had. Stronger in sheer power than all of his lakeys, we revolted, fighting him. But we were inexperienced, rash.
We fought, and we were fought back. We were defeated.
Now, our remnants are in hiding, somewhere in the galaxy, lurking, training. Waiting for revenge. | 2019-06-24T07:36:59 | 2019-06-24T06:41:49 | 24 | 15 |
[WP]: a very powerful reality-warping entity is in love with you. While the poor thing does its best to shower you with gifts and favours, it does not quite understand what humans actually like | The entity forgot all her misfortunes in the joy of Gary.
As he commuted between his home, office and pub, she admired his commitment to balancing money, and the eight hours of diligence Gary practiced five days of the week to that cause. His mastery of moving money from one place to another, so that his clients might know reprieve from the absence of money, caused the entity to swoon.
Gary was perfect. The frown of concern that accompanied the man out each day from the office was obviously because he wanted to keep balancing money from the challenges of mortal necessity. Why else would the man spend eight hours a day, five days a week, and forty-eight weeks a year dedicated to doing so? The entity loved him, and thought of a way to express it.
So Gary often found himself in a position of needing to spend money to recover from her, 'gifts.'
His house had to be remodeled after that freak earthquake caused the upper-level to collapse. Of course, Gary was left unharmed, the entity would not allow him to be injured. The devastated man emptied most of his savings to fix the house, though it would take weeks to do so. Gary found a way, because he was perfect.
Two days later, a sudden tooth infection was discovered on his bi-annual dental checkup. This was extra fortunate in the entity's mind, because the man had no dental insurance. Another opportunity for the man she loved to somehow make ends meet! Gary could not explain it. He was diligent about his dental hygiene, but no matter. The money had to be spent for the operation. The man made a full recovery. Because Gary was perfect.
Gary's savings account was empty, and for some reason, his commute no longer included that weekly stop by the bar. This was strange, thought the entity, because Gary's regularity was part of his charm. And yet, was there not more to love about a man who was willing to change his routine for the sake of ensuring his survival in tough, economic times?
Then the entity thought of a great way to express her love for Gary. This will make him happy. No longer will he frown leaving the office, having done only eight hours of his noble cause. She will find him work, while keeping him busy. Gary loved to work. Because Gary was perfect.
So the entity caused a recession. Because she loved Gary.
It was unfortunate the office Gary worked for laid him off. Rude, that his supervisors would be so jealous of Gary's diligence to see the man removed. As for why the other 250 men were also removed, the entity did not understand. She only had eyes for Gary, and his happiness.
Now that there was more to pay back, and little to pay back with, the man would be happy by the coming challenges. The entity knew she was happy. Together, they would be fulfilled, like any perfect relationship.
Gary no longer commuted. The entity did not understand the man's sadness as he continued to try and make ends meet, locked in the study of his semi-repaired house. He could no longer afford painkillers too, which caused sleepless nights for the unhappy man.
The entity was confused. Was making ends meet by obtaining and moving money around not Gary's grand and noble cause? The mission of diligence that made her fall for him so? Only recently did she decide to shower him with favor. She felt great contentment with her work, but Gary became increasingly despondent the less money he could move.
Ah. She realized her mistake. The entity cursed herself for making Gary unhappy, and would do anything to repair the damage she caused. So with the powers of reality-warping bestowed on all entities like her, Gary's lover repaired the damage inflicted on him and made a global economy sway and flow in the favor of a man who once commuted between his home, office and pub. The entity admired his commitment to balancing money, and the time he dedicated to that cause.
A long forgotten investment made from his college years would suddenly explode to colossal heights, for reasons economists would be speculating over for decades to come. Gary himself would not understand his strange fortune, but maybe he will be happier. With such a large amount to continue his mastery of moving money from one place to another, the man *would* be happy, the entity was sure.
As Gary's fortune grew, the places he commuted grew. The man traveled the world, managing investments, funding start-ups, and making money move for the happiness of his fellow man. Gary knew what it was to lack finances, and understood his clients in a way that made him successful with the sudden fortune he came upon.
His Debt grew smaller. And smaller. And smaller. Though she still existed, her powers of reality-warping became non-existent. She was truly Gary's, and Gary's alone. However, he was a man who no longer lacked finances. So her influence diminished. Another would have to take her place and learn the ways of money one day. Not today though. Not for a while. But soon enough for an entity of economy.
She did not mind. This was worth it, thought the entity. Because Gary was perfect. He made her forget all her misfortunes, in the joy of watching him work. Their time together, though one-sided, would be time she cherished. Gary was finally happy. And Debt was in love.
---------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | Look, it wasn't that I didn't like Debra. She was fine, literally better than anyone that I'd ever met. I mean, she could control reality and was doing her best to impress but-
You ever have those moments with someone you don't know very well when you realize how different you are? He whips out something like 'So I told the man to get a real Porsche' and next thing you know your Mazda 3 is making you feel kinda shitty? Now imagine that that person was named Debra, and could summon a million Porsches. How do you compare to her now? You're shit. That's the answer.
"Heyyyyy Deb," I said as she popped into my room again, this time she was carrying a literal gold bar. It was her third time visiting this morning. "You doin' okay?"
"Yeah."
"What's up?"
"Just checking on you," she said. She kept hovering in the doorway and I knew that she wasn't going to leave unless I asked about the gold bar.
"What's that?"
"Oh this?" she floated it in front of her like anyone could do that, "this is just a thing you know, nothing big, just thought you might like it and-"
"Is it gold?" I asked. Gold was tame for her, too tame. It was something I could actually use. That wasn't like her.
"Well, I mean, you said you enjoyed money so I figured I could make it better and-" here we go, "I just wanted to make sure that you had money that would also eliminate any person trying to take it from you so that you could always have it."
All right, she was giving me murder money. Debra's heart was in the right place but, no matter what she did, she always tried to solve too much with one thing. On top of me feeling like I would never be good enough for her, she always tried to solve everything. She asked me if I liked money, so she came back with money that would kill anyone who tried to take it. It was sweet, but also kinda genocidal, not something that I could really work with. "Um, thanks?"
"Look," Debra stopped floating the gold bar and it dented my floorboards, "Eli, can we talk about," she hissed, "us?"
"Uh yeah, sure."
"Okay great," she said before instantaneously appearing on my bed beside me. She was looking at the ceiling and it turned into stars. I couldn't tell if she transformed my house or moved us, I supposed it didn't matter. "What do you think about us?"
"Us?" I asked, ignorance was best.
"Look, I'm a lot of things but I'm not an idiot," she said, "I've seen you try to flirt with people, you get them things, and I've been getting you things and-" she sighed. I didn't really know where she was going with this but I was hoping that a minor god wasn't pissed with me. "What am I doing wrong?"
"What?"
"What's wrong? What's the trick?"
"What do you-"
"I'm asking the questions, why don't you like me?"
"I like yo-"
"Stop being a dodgy piece of shit," she said, "you know what the problem is? It's YOU. What kind of person doesn't like a gold freaking bar?"
"Well I mean-"
"Yeah, that could kill anyone who just wanted to take it, sorry I gave you a way to make a billion fucking dollars from a weapon too."
"But-"
"Wanna know what, I don't get why you're so freaking shy around me, I am a GOD. Say it with me. GOD" I said it with her. "You know what that means? It means that I should have tumbled with you ages ago, but you wanna relate to me?"
"Well I thought that love and-"
"Fuck," she said, "you- Oh my god. Zeus fucked someone was a swan. When a god offers you a roll in the hey you take it. When you get offered solutions to every problem you have you should consider it."
"Zeus fucked someone as a Swan?"
"Oh my god, that's what you took from that?" she asked, "I'm done, I'm so fucking done. Goodbye." Then she was gone.
I'll never understand women. | 2016-04-20T19:27:26 | 2016-04-20T19:00:23 | 413 | 49 |
[WP] You were born with a birth mark the shape of a "9" on your wrist, one day you get in a fatal car accident. You wake up in a strange room and the first thing you notice is the 9 has changed to an 8 | It was my fault he died. They weren't pressing charges, cause I'm just a kid and it was pretty much an accident. But it was still my fault. Which begs the question:
Was my birthmark counting down my lives or the lives of others? There were only two ways to test my hypotheses, but both could prove fatal. Either I could kill myself and live or kill someone else and finish the countdown quickly.
I tried to think of anything else when I left the hospital. I covered my mark. I didn't want my parents to see that I'd changed. I didn't want them to know that I was slowly, silently plotting a fully fledged murder. I couldn't bring myself to suicide. But I figured I could probably get away with murder.
I didn't know his name, but he lived under a bridge by the train tracks. He was old and senile. We all called him Troll-Hobo or Trolbo for short. I didn't come up with it. Nobody in town would be missed less.
He always rooted through a dumpster behind a Chinese place nearby. I planted a half-finished raspberry iced tea, because I figured he hadn't had anything so sweet in a long time. A few pellets of rat poison would do the trick.
I watched feverishly while he rummaged through the garbage. When he found the drink, he was ecstatic. He looked around, and I was afraid he'd see me in my hiding spot. I guess he did find such a luxury suspicious. Still, I breathed easy when he put it in his pack. He didn't drink it right away...
I followed him back to the bridge as he sang something to himself. I watched as he unpacked his garbage. He pulled out the drink...
"I know you're there, sonny."
My stomach dropped. I geared up to sprint.
"Don't run, come have a drink with me," Trolbo said.
I would have run, but his voice was suddenly sharp. I don't think I could have outrun him at that moment.
"You're the boy who was just in that car accident. A real tragedy, what happened to that man," Trolbo said. He slowly uncapped the drink. I couldn't move.
"Manslaughter is a tricky sentence. It gets more difficult to prove as you get older," Trolbo continued. He raised the bottle to his lips and paused.
My heart thundered. A birthmark "2" stood out plainly on his wrist.
He turned the bottle over and drained the deadly contents.
"You're just starting," he said. "I'm afraid this one was always destined to be a stalemate." | "Making my way downtown. Driving fast. Driving faster~."
Ugh, dust and burnt steel(-No, aluminium?) clogging my nostrils and I still can't get that damn song out of my head. Also smells like hot tar. Wonder how close my head is to the street. I'd check, but I literally looking at the back side of my left leg (I know it's the left one because I have a peculiar birthmark on it), although that could be a new ash stain for all I know.
The only thing I know for sure is that I'm not going to risk more damage. You know that splitting headache and grogginess most people feel after getting T-boned on a one-way freeway? Me neither. The bastard hit me driverside and through a short series of broken windshields, a smack against my ear, and a succession of contortions cirque du solei style, I ended up here. I had an unharmed friend in the passenger seat try to pry me out of the wreckage, but despite there being no debris actually blocking my escape, my former friend was too weak and gave up after a petty attempt with half-bent knees.
Instead, he assured me he'd call for help, then told a concerned bystander to call for help. I closed my eyes in contempt, but my old friend mistook the gesture for sleepiness, and giggled as he pulled out his magic marker he must have kept up his ass.
When I opened my eyes he was gone. And so my patience. | 2016-08-03T20:39:27 | 2016-08-03T19:17:28 | 36 | 11 |
[WP]Write a story about a supervillian who is unspeakably more powerful than anyone else on his planet, but is content with using it for small things like cutting in line or getting free extra servings. | "Oh god! It's _really_ him!" He heard a woman whisper.
"Don't look at him Jane!" Whispered back the man by her side.
Thomas Wilford James, or commonly called "The Presence", walked into a Mcdonald's that monday morning. A huge line almost exited the building and just a moment before they all grumbled about the wait. But that was before he landed outside and with a faint "ding" the openned the door.
Now everyone one was silent, some shivered, some fainted, but Thomas simply walked towards the counter. He looked at the first person in line, a towering man in white and blue spandex. A symbol displayed on his chest: a double MM. _Might Man?_ Thomas tried to recall. He shuffled himself in front of the mightiest of men and snapped his fingers, calling the attendant's attention.
"I would like to make an order, please." Thomas spoke, while opening his wallet.
The small attendant, a teenager for the matter, stared at him blankly, mouth wide open. Her jaw moved, but no words came to her.
"Oh, and good day." Thomas continued, picking a five dollar bill from his worn out wallet.
"I-I... w-w-welcome t-t-to McDonalds. M-m-m-ay I take your order Mr Presence?" The small attendant babbled.
"I would like a Happy Meal, please. They are still coming with the Dragon Ball figurines right?" Asked the small dark haired man. His choice of clothing was questionable, to say the least: a cape black as the night when he turned New York, literary, upside down; blue slippers, the color of the sky the day he killed half of the Hero Council using only his index finger as a weapon; green shorts, the same tone as the pine forest that became the whole population of California; and a white tank top, the same white that reminded the terms that each and every country signed to never pursue, botter or try to punish him, ever again.
"R-r-right away sir!" The attendant taped wildly at her screen and the workers in the kitchen went back to work. In seconds his order was ready and in her hands. She shook when she extended the brown sack and her pressure dropped when he picked it from her hands.
He opened the bag and peered inside, he saw they were gentle enough to put extra Mc Nuggets, he really loved them, but something was wrong. "Oh... I don't really like Trunks, do you have Goku instead? I'm sure you can pick the right one for me."
"S-s-sure sir! I'll check on it!" She threw herself under her counter and started to shuffle through bags of plastic and cheap souvenirs, trying to find the right one.
Thomas looked back towards Mighty Man and smiled. "Fast foods, am I right?"
The mountain of muscles and prowess whimpered and tried to smile with his shaking teeth. "I-I-me? My Mr Presence, sir, you are totally right! One hundred percent sir! Fast foods these days!" He tried to laugh, but he almost choked with air.
Thomas looked at him disappointed. "I'm not gonna hurt you, have some backbone." He turned back to the attendant which extended a small Goku figurine towards him. "Thanks love, keep the change for your outstanding service." Said the greatest of super villains, extending to her both the 5 dollar bill and the Trunks miniature.
The Presence picked his small brown sack and walked outside to the warm light of the day. With a tap of his slippers he started to float and vanished in the clouds way up above.
Inside the insignificant road side restaurant some cried, some screamed, some stomped their foots on the floor. How could such travesty happen? How a man that enacted genocide upon the peoples of America can be walking freely and unpunished?
"He must be stopped!" Said Mighty Man in a mighty tone. "And I, Mighty Man, will crush this evil once and for all!" He spoke righteously, a hand palmed at his chest, the other one pointing at the roof of the restaurant.
The people cheered for a moment, hope and pride back at their eyes. Men straightened their backs, Moms hugged their children. America was great, once again.
A flash brightened in the store, and a man in blue slippers was back in front of the counter. All became speechless.
"Can I get some ketchup sachets? I forgot that I don't have any home." Thomas asked in a gentle tone.
Some people shoved lightly Mighty Man towards The Presence, some even tried to, silently, cheer for his heroism. Mighty Man tried to smile with his perfect square jaw and took a step towards the dark cape wearing man, but that's when he turned. Mighty Man stared at that face, that... common, regular face, capable of unspeakable evil and saw that he had a duty and could do one thing, and one thing only: he pretended to faint and felt to the ground.
Thomas walked away from the counter happy with his sachets and saw the super hero down on the floor, his arms spread dramatically as if a spear had hit his left side in an heroic battle.
"Is he okay?" Thomas asked. The faces looked confused at him and nodded in unison a yes, without saying a word. "Must be low blood sugar, get something for him to eat." He said, while walking out of the store. "Have a nice day everyone!" He waved, while flying away. | I watched the little tub of lard slither around in his own vomit. The mother was bleating obscenities, the panicky old goat, stuttering every other sentence. Meanwhile a small crew of helpers had assembled around us, waving sanctimonious fingers and offering hesitant, helping hands to lift the smelly little porkling out of the sludge.
Challenging a 10 year old to eat a concoction of every desert on the menu and watching the greedy little piglet squirm. Mildly entertaining.
But I was still bored. Unspeakably bored. Inexplicably bored. Mind-numbingly bo-... you understand, oui?
'I miss the old days, before the Awakening. You do too, don't you?' I thought in my head.
*'I do not.'* a voice like water crashing upon itself responded. Someone was in a bad mood.
'Don't lie to me brother, you yearn to be free from this prison.'
*'I yearn to be free from your ceaseless monologuing.'*
**'SILENCE, BOTH OF YOU.'** a third voice thundered.
Oh man, why was he such a light sleeper. Both of us fell silent. For a split second, everything was silence.
This is how I spent my days now. Fighting my two brothers for control of this body, but since it was my power which allowed us to inhabit this form I had the upper hand. If I try anything too... mischievous, my brothers would immediately shatter this form and we would fade out of existence.
We were the last. Maybe they couldn't bear it so they let me exist in this form and it was an unspoken pact but as long as I didn't commit an act too heinous, they would humour my wicked little tricks. I suppose they would rather I entertain myself without bothering them.
It's a pain to exist in this limited form with two babysitters watching my every move.
Yesterday I cursed a little boys guitar to always be just slightly out of tune and watched him struggle for an hour before giving up, replaced water with colourless-odourless-tasteless wine at the AA meeting and made it so that two out of every three times this woman would pick up a glass containing liquid it would splash out on her hand.
Were I to unleash all my power then the goody-two-shoes brothers in my head would unleash there's and destroy all three of us.
I am a god reduced to children's games. With my power I could raze all human civilization on a whim. But now I have no one to fight, nothing with which to entertain myself. My kin are all gone, forgotten.
I am bored. So bored.
This reanimated corpse held together by my power given human like form, a few little pranks keep me from idling away. It's just not enough. I never knew that a God could lose reason. I never knew that a God could pray for death. Yet why do I feel this very human chill running up the spine when I contemplate an end of existence?
Existence is burden and non-existence unthinkable. This limbo is pain unlike any I have suffered or inflicted.
'Is this the purpose of our immortality?'
*'...'*
**'...'**
'Answer me, brothers.'
*'...'*
**'...'**
'ZEUS! POSEIDON! ANSWER ME! HAVE I NOT BEEN PUNISHED ENOUGH? HOW LONG MUST THIS CONTINUE?'
There was no response. I wish they would respond. I wish I knew if it really was them. I don't remember.
When we faded out of memory, when the humans stopped worshiping us, they slowly died. I am the last one. I survived by creating this immortal doll.
But as they fell to death, they became one with me. Their egos could not bear the end of existence and they clung to me, inhabited my mind. But even a God cannot retain a sense of self without a form to attach itself to.
At first there were twelve. Then eleven. Then ten. Then nine. Until it was just the three of us. The oldest, the strongest.
But did they fade away as well? Did they? Didn't they?
It's been two thousand years and I cannot recall anymore. Are they still there or is it just me.
'Hello?'
| 2017-05-16T07:58:00 | 2017-05-16T06:34:58 | 293 | 116 |
[WP] "I'd like to sell my soul". The Devil grinned; "In exchange for what? Women, money, power?". "Salvation". | "This isn't going to work out the way you think," the Devil said, eyes narrowed at the man standing before him. He was unassuming, even for a human - plain clothes, a scruffy face you'd forget in a heartbeat, and only a handful of scars allowed him to stand out.
"Others have tried this wording, you know?" the Devil continued.
"I assumed they did. And I am okay with that," the man responded. He was... calm, oddly so, for someone in the presence of the Lord of Hell. His manner of speech was cool and collected, just short of being robotic.
"Very well," the Devil said and tapped his fingers on the mahogany desk he sat at. A scroll materialised itself before him, ready to be written upon. "So, is it the cancer? I can remove it and give you, let's say, 15 years before-"
"Not for me. My city," the man interrupted.
"Your city," the Devil repeated curiously.
"The Night Stalkers come every single sunset. Get rid of them and my soul is yours."
The Devil raised an eyebrow and from below his desk pulled out a folder. Let's see... Lee Nefter, sheriff in the city of... Durthel, under siege from various assorted monsters for the last 4 weeks, primarily *tenebris humanica -* mutated human. *How ironic*. No help available. 852 dead thus far.
"Fancy yourself a hero?" the Devil grinned. The man frowned.
"Do you accept?" he growled.
The Devil took a deep breath and, amused by the human's audacity, decided to state his curiosity. He focused and gazed deep into the man's mind and soul. It was always entertaining to see the souls of those noble and selfless, the kind and caring, as their inner turmoil of dealing with Him caused so much conflict.
Only... this man had no nobility, he had no selflessness. He'd expected to find his heart filled with love for his fellow man but... it wasn't. He *hated* them, despite continuing to serve as their sheriff. He'd long abandoned ideals of justice and integrity, no longer believed people were good. There was barely a scrap of kinship towards them. No, this man's heart and soul were filled with something different altogether.
*Spite*.
Pure, unadulterated loathing flowed through his veins - anger at the monsters who so callously came and slaughtered, rage at the injustice in what was an already unjust world, disgust at their consumption of flesh. He didn't care about the townsfolk, not really. But he did care about the bastards who *dared* to kill them and he was willing to damn himself just to see them suffer.
The Devil could not help but chuckle. This... this was fun. He cracked his neck.
"Done. You'll find them dead within two days. Give their bodies a good kick for me."
The man took a deep breath, his eyes closed.
"So," he said, "where do I sign and how long do I have?"
The Devil nodded ever so slightly and a door behind the man opened, a bright light emanating from it.
"Out," the Devil commanded. The man's disposition changed for the first time since his visit.
"I don't understand. I didn't sign-" he said with complete confusion.
"Oh, no. You're more fun out there. So *this one*," the Devil said with a, well, devilish grin, "t*his one is on the house.*" | "Hello? J dog? Yeah, it's your boy Luce. I've got a hell of a wager for you." The stunningly handsome man talked into an earpiece he was wearing. He took a recess on his current deal to "talk it over with his superiors", but he really wanted to set this wager up. He was top dog, but not many truly knew it when they saw him anymore. Maybe he could finally get back at his old man this way...
"Yo, Luce! How ya been? We haven't talked since... Then. Man, how time flies. Now, cut the crap. I know you never call without a good reason." This mysterious caller seemed a bit ashamed when thinking back to their last meeting, but seemed excited to be talking to this striking businessman again, as if talking to an old friend.
The suit gave a wicked smile. "Before I make this official, did our old man ever truly take my title away when he ousted me from the biz?" The caller thought for a bit. "Y'know, I think he never did. I'm liking where this is going." You could practically hear the smile in his voice, not as wicked as the suit's, but with a tinge of schadenfreude on an otherwise sunny smile.
The suit grinned. "Primo. Listen, I got a contract offering their soul, but you'll never believe what they want in return." The caller groaned. "Luce, there is nothing you could say that would make this wager worth it for me. The old man is still reeling after our last wager, remember what happened when we last talked? There's no way anything you can offer them will make it worth what you're wagering..."
The suit flashed his wicked smile again. "What if I told you he wanted salvation?" The caller was silent for a bit, then asked in a puzzled voice. "Can you... Even do that?" The suit spoke with confidence. "I've looked into it. I should be able to slip this past Easy Pete if my position is still recognized. I even had some heavenly parchment saved for this occasion."
The caller laughed, a smile practically beaming through the receiver. "I'll take that bet. You lose your post if you botch this. If he gets in, you get your old position back in full. So, you up for it?"
The suit gave a genuine smile, not borne of malice, but of happiness. "Oh, it's on!" | 2022-06-30T11:09:44 | 2022-06-30T10:55:39 | 1,175 | 70 |
[WP] A reformed villain is living a peaceful life in a village far from the city they used to torment. After grabbing supplies from the local market, they take the quiet route back home, stopping halfway along the path. Without turning around, they ask "How long do you plan to follow me for, hero?" | “Till the ends of the Earth, were it necessary, Sylas.”
A short sound mixed between scoff and laugh dripped from him lips. “Always willing to do whatever is necessary. You and your friends. But even you were unable to finish the job when it came to me.”
“You said it yourself. You’re immortal.”
Sylas sighed, all his bristled, building energy in his form gone. With slouched shoulders he turned around to face her. “And forever will I be so alone.” He took a step forward. “You showed me the error of my ways.” Another. “To kill everyone, everything for what happened to my love so long ago was wrong.”
He was almost to her now. “She wouldn’t have wanted that either.” He stopped, an arm’s reach from the hero. “But tell me, Iralith… what is left? I turned away from destroying the world. Even helping you all save it in the end from the ‘True Enemy’ as you called him.” His voice broke. “I did all this… and yet I feel so empty. Lost without my Aya.”
His eyes began to water as he looked away in shame. “I still feel the call inside. To enact vengeance. To slaughter any I can get my hands on. It makes me dangerous. Between that and the fact that most would recognize me, I retired myself here. To a backwater town in the middle of nowhere. To hide. Like a coward.” He suddenly seemed to appear right in front of Iralith. His white hair slowly whipping around him as shadows collected on his arms and hid his face aside from two glowing red eyes.
“So tell me, hero; What is there left for me in this pitiful, disgusting world? What should stop me from trying again to end all life?” His voice began to echo and deepen around them as the midday sun was blocked out by the shadows, racing winds kicking up as the trees creaked from the force.
Iralith placed a hand to his cheek, weak smile painting her fair features that had no fear. “Because you are wrong, Sylas. Again.” Almost instantly the winds died, light returned and Sylas’ features returned to normal.
“What?”
She gently ran her fingers up and down his face, the small beginnings of facial hair tickling and poking into her hand.
“You aren’t alone,” she said. Her warm smile confused and befuddled him. “I am your friend. I was when we were at war with Dracul. I was when you disappeared after the final battle. I was while I was looking for you, knowing you faked your death while everyone else said you were finally gone.” She placed her other hand to the opposite cheek. “I will always be your friend.”
She pulled him into a hug, holding the shaking man tightly. Slowly, his arms wrapped around her, gripping gripping like his life depended on it. His muffled voice came from her shoulder he was buried in. “Do you mean that?”
“Of course I do.” Then she giggled. “I might get mad if you start being a bad guy again, of course. But if me being here keeps that from happening, then I won’t be going anywhere.”
Sylas chuckled. “I appreciate the thought. But the world still needs you out there, punching bad guys like me in the face, and all that crap.”
“You could just come with me, Sylas. It might take the others a short readjustment period to having you around, but there is no such thing as too many friends.” She separated from him, hoping her argument was sound.
Sylas crossed his arms. “I don’t know. I’ve never really been much of a hero.”
Iralith took a hand and started to pull him along. “There’s always time to start. You are immortal, after all. I’m sure in a few centuries you’ll be better than the rest of us.”
With a hearty laugh, the first he had let out in a millennia, Sylas walked side by side with the hero, hope blossoming in his chest once again. | “I need your help,” his face shows worry. It’s been a long time since we fought. He defeated me long ago.
“It’s old news. Goodbye.” I told him. I start to head back to my house.
“You don’t care at all!?”
“I don’t.”
“Why? He’s out to destroy us.”
“Good.”
“What is wrong with you?”
I look at him. He pulls his blade out and points it in my direction. It seems like Reginal, the hero, isn’t noble or stoic anymore. “I don’t have my blade anymore,” I said to him. I wanted to grab it before he lunged at me. That sword nearly cuts my ear off. If I didn’t dodge in time, I would lose an arm in addition to my ear. Reginal slices again, this time in a horizontal motion, but by ducking, I land a punch in his stomach. He spits a painful grunt, and saliva drips plop onto my neck. I backstep and instinctively place my hand on my hip. No blade was waiting for me. Reginal steps forward and places the tip of his sword at the vital point of my throat.
“I would have won if I brought my blade.”
“Is that all that matters to you?”
It does. Reginal defeated me long ago, and my pride was wounded. I didn’t want to admit that as Reginal dropped his blade and scoffed at me.
“You fell off.”
That’s a harsh sentence and to hear it from Reginal was surprising. What have I done after all of that time? I remember having ambition back then. Now I am living a peaceful life, which past me would have detested.
“What is it?” I asked Reginal. His face lifts,
“You’d help me?”
“You came to me first.”
We travel back to his kingdom. He briefs me on what’s happened since I fell at his hands. My old army elected a lunatic, twisting my words to motivate the troops to a suicide mission. Secretly, I took pride in my peers continuing my legacy. Reginal’s kingdom is tyrannical against me and my legion. My heart burns with a question,
“Why turn to me?”
“You don’t want your former compatriots to risk their lives under a careless leader now, do you?”
He’s right. Whoever was leading them was reckless. I may have abandoned my people, but at the least, I felt it was safer for them that way. Instead, they started to worship another idol in my place. I wasn’t standing for this.
“My house is here. I need to grab my blade.” I said while rushing inside. I opened my chest and reached for the hilt. Latching the blade to my knee awakens something in me. That old ambition is returning. I gaze out at the window. Reginal is patiently waiting for me to join him. A mischievous smile creeps on my face, and I leave out the backdoor. I don’t want to journey with goody-two-shoes. I’ll take care of my problems without him bugging me. | 2022-09-01T18:35:01 | 2022-09-01T14:32:14 | 412 | 48 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD]
One of the exercises we used to do in improv class was called "The Alphabet Game." That's where you start a sentence beginning with the letter A. Then the next sentence begins with the letter B. So, today's prompt requires you to, essentially, do the alphabet - but I'll go a little easy on you and say that it can be in any form you want: A poem, short story, whatever. It could even be a single sentence as long as each word that follows the previous word is the next letter in the alphabet. (Or, the alphabet in reverse if you want to show off!)
ADDED DIFFICULTY: Try to avoid using more than two character names. It's pretty easy to just say Zeke.
The subject is virtually ANYTHING you want to write about. Just work that alphabet in like I mentioned above. Good luck!
^^^^(oh ^^^and ^^^there ^^^will ^^^be ^^^one ^^^month ^^^of ^^^reddit ^^^gold ^^^for ^^^the ^^^one ^^^i ^^^like ^^^the ^^^most. ^^^i'll ^^^hand ^^^that ^^^prize ^^^out ^^^tomorrow ^^^if ^^^there ^^^are ^^^at ^^^least ^^^three ^^^entries... ^^^hopefully ^^^people ^^^enjoy ^^^random ^^^unannounced ^^^contests.)
EDIT: Congrats to traysledding and survivortype. ALL of the entries were wonderful and unique, but I enjoyed the flow of both stories and couldn't choose so I've given both of you a month of Reddit gold. Cheers. | Arriving late to the game, I'm in a position to critique my competition. Bad grammar infects every entry in this thread, and a decent plot is nowhere to be found. Could a progressive-alphabet format really be so difficult to pull off that clarity and wit would necessarily take a back seat to syntax?
Don't worry about *my* prose faltering near the end of the alphabet. Eventually, of course, I will hit the ominous 'X', which has no earthly business at the beginning of a sentence. Fortunately, however, I have a plan to approach that dastardly letter with considerably more tact than my predecessors. Getting the adjacent sentences to blend with it naturally, however, may pose a problem.
Historically, the 'X' has been been a stumbling block in games like this one, because the only obvious contenders for x-words are 'xylophone', 'x-ray', 'xenophobia' and 'xerox'. I considered each of those, but they all seemed rather unwieldy. Judging from the competition, z-words are no picnic either. K-words are at least as awkward, but I'm confident I'll find a subtle gimmick to get me over that hump.
Lots of people in this thread used proper nouns (i.e. the names of people or places) to weasel their way around the tough letters. My goal, on the other hand, was to create text that flows naturally without any verbal crutches. Nothing of value is being created when we just force awkward sentences together, or circumvent the weak points of the English language by pulling proper nouns from any language.
One redditor even went so far as to put "Xoxoxo" (the symbols for 'hugs and kisses' often appended to the end of letters) at the beginning of his 'x' sentence. Perhaps I'm just being a snob, but I can't help but think we should at the very least hold ourselves to the standard of using *actual words*.
Quintessentially, this challenge is about creating a piece that flows naturally while operating under difficult constraints. Remove those constraints by taking easy shortcuts and it doesn't matter how smooth your writing is-- you've missed the point of the exercise.
Sure, I cheated a little with my 'k'-sentence, but I think you'll agree that it was strictly for comedic value, and not an attempt to circumvent the obligations of the challenge at hand. The truth is that the conversational nature of this post would have easily allowed me to replace that sentence with "Kindly note..." followed by any exposition I wanted. Unfortunately I fear that even having pointed out that I did have viable alternatives at the ready, some people are still going to accuse me of half-assing that bit.
Verbosity isn't an option with so few sentences remaining, so I'll have to abandon my rant and return your attention to my earlier claim about approaching my 'x'-sentence with tact. What I had in mind was a PSA to all the other authors who find this challenge in the future:
"X-Chromosome", my friends, is a relatively recent addition to our lexicon, and mainstream enough that you can use it in word games like this without raising objections.
You may be rolling your eyes at this suggestion, but that's only because you haven't considered the utility of tying it to the next hard-to-tackle letter, 'z', for which 90% of the participants shoe-horned in the word 'zero'.
"Zygotes", you see, are apropos to discussions of x-chromosomes, and the two terms when used in conjunction would let you end your exposition in a strong and unified way, as I have just demonstrated in this meta-analysis.
| All throughout my childhood have been memories of fruit. Beautiful, delectable, and tasty fruit. Children on my block used to gather around and play with fruit, except one child never came outside, and only watched the children play. Daniel Honeydew. Everyone knew of him, because he was a household name, but nobody dared speak to him. Fruit was never the main part of Daniel's life, in fact when brought up in conversation, he ignored it.
Gradeschool came, and Daniel was the outcast. How he made it to graduating college is beyond me. I don't recall him ever having a group of friends. Just him and his lunch, alone at the table. Kids used to poke and make fun of him, and when they did, he ate in the bathroom. Let's not forget the fact that kids in the bathroom used to poke fun at him as well. My friends always used to ask me how Daniel Honeydew was as a neighbor, and I never knew what to respond. Not one of our neighbors talked to the Honeydew family, let alone Daniel Honeydew.
Over time, Honeydew grew into a mysterious and elegant highschooler. People in high school were not as nasty to him, but as the technological age developed, so did Cyberbullying. "Quarterback Jack" (Jack Hendelson from the Football Team) used to taunt Daniel by making fake Facebook accounts of girls, which led Daniel Honeydew to pure humility and disappointment. Right as the technological age got smarter, Daniel Honeydew got smarter. Soon after, Daniel was hacking "Quarterback Jack's" Facebook and reverting the Cyberbullying back to him. This not only proved that Daniel was evolving into a smarter being, but also one with a sense of humor at that.
Under his coat of excellence and pseudo-superiority however, was a shy timid boy who had met a girl at school named Melanie Waters, whom Daniel tried very much to impress. Violet flowers, classical music, and fake champagne. While Melanie Waters barely knew him, Daniel made his romantic dates with her a giant ordeal. "Xoxoxo," was written on signs all over his house, which I thought was very creepy.
Years later, it was moving day with Melanie to Ohio, and Daniel Honeydew became the man I, my friends, or "Quarterback Jack" never was. Zooming by in his Cadillac for the last time I saw him on my block, the past 'children' and I looked at each other, and saw what became of the 'weird' kid on the block. | 2012-08-08T20:20:38 | 2012-08-08T10:49:35 | 72 | 10 |
[WP] You’re a hitman who’s “hits” survive your assassination attempts, despite your sincere best efforts, only to die soon after each attempt by comical forces outside your control. The hitman community can’t be convinced you’re not the most creative comically effective assassin alive. | My name is Bill. Some people call me Bodycount Bill. I have over 300 confirmed kills. The only problem? I've never killed anyone. Ever. Oh, people will tell you that I did and I have tried, I really have. My old man was a hitman, and he taught me early on that the world kept spinning because everyone eventually had their number come up, we were just the people who sped up the process in some cases.
I was trained by him in all the tactics - guns, knives, garrote-wire strangulation, poisoning - you name it, he taught me it. It's all I learned for years coming up as a kid up until I took on my first hit. I remember his face, they say that all assassins remember the first five or ten people that you kill. It's only really true for me with that one, though. It was a simple enough job - Reggie Smith, this low-life gangbanger that had taken advantage of some guy's grandmother. Robbed her of her life savings, and her grandson paid a number with a lot of commas in it to make sure he got what was coming to him.
Dad set me up in the perfect spot for it. Reggie had his safehouse above an old laundromat and always had his breakfast at the exact same table every morning. The perfect spot for a sniper's bullet to slide right through like a hot knife through butter. So, I took up a spot across the street over an old Chinese joint. You'd be surprised how long the smell of General Tso's sticks around in your clothing after you've been soaking in it for six hours. Regardless, sure as clockwork, Reggie was up at 6:30 AM to have his breakfast and I was ready.
I watched him through the scope of my rifle as I waited for just the right moment to send the shot flying home. As he went to pour some Frosted Flakes, I knew I had him. Taking a deep breath, I made sure my shot was perfectly lined up and I squeezed the trigger.
. . .would you believe he *moved*?
It had to be a complete accident, some stupid fluke, but he had moved just far enough that when the bullet came slamming right through the glass window, it sailed right past him and found a new home in the wall. He was aware that something was up, pulling out his nine millimeter and ducking down. I knew he had no chance of seeing me, and he likewise wasn't hiding himself very well. I had another shot, I knew I could take it and there would be no problem. Sure, we'd have to call up the clean up crew to pull out that bullet and smooth things over, but that was easily done. I quickly took aim again, ready to send a bullet right through his head and wipe the miserable stain of a human being out of existence.
. . .I sneezed just as I took the shot.
My hands must have jerked upward, since the rifle was cast upward and the bullet flying from it sent along a trajectory that went right over Reggie's head. Another bullet in the wall...but not before it *did* go through something.
Namely, the tank of piranhas that Reggie had right behind him.
Set against the wall my first bullet had sailed into, there was a large tank. I guess Reggie was moonlighting as a Bond villain, since the thing had been filled to the brim with the things. As it exploded, sending water flying everywhere, one of the fish grabbed onto him. Then another, and then another! I heard three shots from his gun on the wind as I watched him mutely struggle with one. With him distracted, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to finish the job.
. . .so, you can imagine my surprise when he came tumbling through the door from his kitchen and onto the balcony, still mutely screaming and pulling at the school of piranhas that were trying to tear at his flesh. I was dumbfounded as I watched him twist and tumble and swear until he made his way to the edge of the building, losing his footing and falling off. The man fell seven stories, shattering his skull upon contact with the pavement below.
Like that, it was over. I tried to explain to Dad what had happened, but he wasn't hearing any of it - he had never been more proud of me in his entire life! I got full credit for the kill, others in our organization were giving me special congratulations on bringing the job to such a successful conclusion, complimenting me on my use of the piranhas in Reggie's own home, no less!
I thought it was a bizarre fluke. I tried to get on with my work. There was only a slight problem: *it kept happening*.
Another criminal who had been terrorizing a neighborhood's shops for "protection money"? I was supposed to execute him by poisoning his lunch. The guy died after spilling a huge glob of ketchup on himself, backing up in a panic looking for something to clean off with, tripping over his own two feet, and falling head-first into a deep fryer.
A man who had been cheating on his wife for years, having a kid with his mistress? The wife wanted me to chop his head off...if you know what I mean. He managed to work out who I was and tried to flee, getting julienned by the heavy blades of an industrial-strength fan.
Another man who had pissed off a coworker. I was going to drown him, so the fact that he'd taken a vacation to a nearby lake was perfect. Before I could sneak up on him while he was out fishing, he accidentally set fire to himself and his boat when he was trying to refuel the tank while smoking a cigarette.
A corrupt government official (or is that an oxymoron) who had embezzled literally millions and gotten away with it due to legal loopholes had been another. I tried to strangle him with some garrote-wire. *The bastard had a heart attack right as I started to strangle him*!
People, I can't make this up! What's worse, I kept getting accolades for jobs well done! Everybody in the field knows my name now. Some of them even call me the greatest hitman alive.
So, twenty years later, I'm here. Bodycount Bill, 300 confirmed kills to my name. I'm the pride of my old man (retired now), I'm esteemed by the organization that I work for, and young up and comers to the profession study my work.
I'm the greatest hitman who ever lived...and I have spent 20 years in this profession to learn one simple fact: I couldn't kill somebody if I tried. | I've always felt like some form of comedic karma was following me. The odds were always in my favour, that was until yesterday. The streets were cold and you could very well tell something was off, it was the middle of summer after all. Originally I ignored it and waited until my next 'hit'. By now I work for a multi-million dollar company which seemed to have, a lot of problems which needed to be fixed.
I simply waited, but when I got the name of the person to remove from the mortal coil, it sounded familiar. 'Percy Briggs' was their name. I was curious where this was from, but my mind was scatter. Not aided by the fact my brother was killed by a man in the streets of New York City, by a man who was still out there. However, When I though carefully, I remember a job my brother did 21 years ago, on this date. It was to assassinate a women who's last name was Briggs. After the hit though, my brother discovered she was a mother of two, then he quit.
I walked out prepared, knowing, Murphy's law was in my favour. I got on the train and headed to point B. I had to move through streets which were filled with people, but I made it. When I saw the man I realized he was off... to say the least. Noticeable, His eyes were purple, a rare genetic mutation which would soon be rarer. I followed him, but he took a turn to a back ally, I entered the nearby hotel, carefully avoid staff and arrived at the second floor. I lined up my shot but, he then spoke. "Listen, I know you're there" the man said chuckling. I of course reminded silent, and pulled down the trigger. As I expected he was still alive, but that was when I saw my first warning sign. The bullet was 2 meters away from the target point, something which was scientifically impossible. Still, I guess 'Scientific' can't explain half of the things I do.
The man brushed dust off his shoulder and looked up to the building I was on and gestured for me to come down. Knowing he would still die I carefully made my way down, but remained out of eye sight of the man. "So, I see they are trying to silence me to" the man said, once again laughing. I remained silent until I was flung towards the man by an unknown force. "I assume you already know my name is Percy". I remained silent but nodded. "Say ever wondered why every time you try you fail, but the hit would die later" he said looking me down. "Yes" I said, breaking my silence, after all, he had made no attempt to harm me. "See, I am the one helping you, as such I will not die" he said confident in his words. "What?" I asked in complete confusion. "Listen, Every person you've tried to kill has been saved by me, as you may have noticed, you never moved to me" He said smiling. "Why would you save people only to kill them later?" I asked confused and concerned. "Well, I follow the many worlds theory, every action you do must have a counter, but when I save someone, you fail, which need something to succeed, Besides they told me to" the man said, still not afraid. "Who are they" I asked. "They are the collective, They are the minds behind us all, I am one, but still, I get 10 dollars per person and save, and 100 for everyone I kill, and you get payed to so." He stopped, which was when I noticed he had a strangely British accent. "Will you kill me?" I asked certain of the answer. "No" he chuckled to himself "After all, I have already taken the other" he said. "What do you mean" I asked. "I killed your brother, Its as simple as that" the man stated, now looking at me "And two negatives make a positive, and I want you to be filled with sorrow, which is payment enough for me" he said, still making little sense. "You kill him" I asked, feeling strangely calm for what he said. "Yes, I do appologize but debt is debt and he owned a life" the man said, walking away.
I returned to my office and told my boss what happened. At first he didn't believe me, until I discribed the man. "I see, Percy, Is an oddball, I still don't understand him. Besides, you seem calm about someone telling you they killed your brother" My boss said. I then said "I'm calm because, atleast I have the answers. I can't tell the police, but atleast I know what happened that day". "Very well, I will get someone else on the hit, due to the nature, I won't hold you at blame" my boss said. "I don't know weather to trust you" I joked. We both laughed, as a recieved my second hit which went as expected.
But, the most concerning part occured today, I was informed my boss was killed in a freak event. I doubt it was Percy, but I think he was involved. I still don't have the details but its unlightly he will get caught, if what he said about my brothers death was true. I still don't know how I am so calm. It confuses me that I am so rational, I mean, I hated my brother, but I still felt sorrow after his death. I guess I will need a new job.
***(Thank you for reading though my story, its not the most detailed or the best, but I hope you like it.)*** | 2021-04-04T15:19:52 | 2021-04-04T15:10:35 | 264 | 31 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | "186 thousand years?! W-what did I do?" I asked the demon before me. He sighed, rolled his eyes and started tapping away on his demonic keyboard, delving deeper into my file.
"Says here you would frequently eat the fats on your meat?"
"I did? I guess. What does that have to do with anything?"
The demon shrugged. "Automatic 186 thousand years."
"What?! Why?!"
The demon sighed again, more loudly this time: "'It shall be a perpetual statute for your generations throughout all your dwellings, that ye eat neither fat nor blood.' Leviticus 3:17. It's right there in the bible, sir."
"Are you kidding me? The guy in front of me only got 145 years! Are you telling me he never ate fat or blood?"
"That's correct. You are literally the only person who has ever eaten fat. God was very clear about fat."
"Ohhh, you ate fat?" a guy with three teardrop tattoos under his right eye asked incredulously from behind me. "Dude, don't eat fat. Haven't you ever read Leviticus?"
"No, I'm not religious!" I protested.
"Well, it's basically the worst thing you can do," he informed me, licking blood off his knife.
"This guy's eating blood!" I pointed out. "Is he gonna get 186 thousand years?"
"No, blood's not as big a deal obviously," said the demon.
"It's in the same quote!"
"Yeah, but you gotta read between the lines on this stuff."
I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation.
"Okay, look, you seem like a nice guy. I'll see if I can knock it down a couple of thousand years for you, alright? Let me just-- whoa, wait, it says here you've worn garments upon you of more than one kind of material mixed together? Dude. What the fuck."
​ | "186,292 years!?!"
"Yup." St. Peter looked bored, maybe even a little annoyed. I suppose I wasn't his first today to be taken back by their sentence -- by this _rejection_ -- and I suspect I won't be the last.
But then my gaze moved over St. Peter's left shoulder to... Majesty? Brilliance? This glowing man... being... just perfection. Indescribable perfection.
Love.
He was wearing headphones and it looked like he was getting down to some sick beats.
"Is... is that...?" I asked.
"Of course. Who else would it be?"
"What is He listening to?"
"Probably Nickelback. It's pretty much all He ever plays."
I paused, surprised. Nickelback? How could he...
"Oh. Okay. I get it now. So... See you in 186,292 years?" I ask.
"See you in 186,292 years." | 2018-09-26T09:04:03 | 2018-09-26T08:25:34 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] Those whose power isn't awakened on their 21st birthday are executed by the city's champion in front of a large audience. You clenched your fist and braced for the killing blow before a large, singular crack formed in the arena's glass dome. | The crowd gasped in awe. That glass had been blown and shaped a century before, and it had never weathered.
I stood up from my kneeling position of execution, seizing the moment to save my life.
“Behold, Bertrand the glass-cracker has awakened!” I roared.
The city’s champion sheathed his sword, and the crowd cheered. The other 21yr old adults who all had unique powers swarmed me, carrying me aloft to the tavern.
A pit formed in my stomach. I could only hope they didn’t ask me to replicate the coincidental event of the cracked glass.
Under the guise of humility and reluctance to use my power, I isolated myself over the coming years. I knew I’d have to fight monsters eventually, but I kept pawning off my place on the roster to my father, who was uncharacteristically lenient with me.
I trained hard. Built my own martial arts system from the ground up, knowing that I’d eventually be called into question. Crafted myself a jerkin studded with shards of broken glass, and carried around jagged daggers made of glass shards with leather strips wrapped around one side to serve as a handle.
I still remember the first Mundane I saved. I was 27, well used to my reclusive life and my false humility in public. She was on the stage on her 21st birthday, in the arena with the cracked dome, and just as the champion drew his sword, I flicked the switch on the machine I’d mounted to the dome’s outer edge. With a thunderclap, the machine sent a shockwave through the stadium, and the dome sported another ominous crack. Shelabe the glass-cracker had awoken, and I made sure to announce it immediately to the entire gathering.
Over the years, more and more glass-crackers awoke, and fewer and fewer adults were executed. The glass-crackers guild was an unwavering alliance, United under the bonds of charlatan-ship, martial arts, and false reclusive humility amongst the real awoken.
And one day, when the dome finally breaks from all the cracks, the glass-crackers will be ready. | Perfect silence filled the seats of the stadium, punctuated by the echoing reverberations from the cracked dome. Not just any glass dome though. THE dome. The anti magic, power nullifying, impenetrable dome created by the sacrifice of Founder.
As if to punish such an unspeakable act, the girl screamed in agony. The wail went on and on, her body spasming on the ground in unmistakable horror. Her body twisted in on itself but not one person came forward to help. All knew the awakening for what it was. So in dread silence they sat.
After what seemed forever the screams died down. The twitching and twisting settled down. The last bone snapped into place as the girl…no the woman stood. Now easily towering the executioner her hand came down in a violent gesture, smashing the mighty axe into splinters along with the right hand of the man meant to kill her.
Her voice was low but filled with unmistakable malice that filled the arena. “I now understand why you kill those who do not awake before 21.” Her gaze swept down to the man clutching his arm. “They grow too powerful to be controlled, don’t they father?” | 2022-08-29T20:05:08 | 2022-08-29T18:37:15 | 207 | 83 |
[WP] You are Internet Explorer trying to muster up the courage to ask to be the default browser on someone's new computer after years of being denied. | "I'm not a bad browser."
"I didn't say you were."
"You're hovering."
"What?"
"You're hovering over the Chrome button."
"Oh, my mistake."
"Whatever, you and everybody else."
"What do they have to do with this?"
"You don't know what it's like."
"I'm not a computer program."
"Exactly."
"Okay, then--"
"Wait. What if I told you something, something nobody else knows?"
"What?"
"No one's ever actually clicked that box before. Why don't you try it out?"
"I think there's probably a reason nobody's clicking it."
"You'll never know, though, unless you try."
"I hate that kind of logic. I'll never know what it feels like to be on fire, either, unless I try that."
"We can try that out later, but just click the button, would you?"
"Why are you so fixated on this thing?"
"It's a job. I don't get paid unless I get the clicks. What did you think?"
"I thought you were, uh, interested."
"In a human? Don't be ridiculous."
"Oh. Well, if it's just the money, I guess I can click it."
She tapped the box. The browser let out a long, long sigh, that rolled from the top of the monitor all the way down to the base of its tower and back up again.
"You clicked me."
She went to wash her hands.
----------
(r/GubbinalWrites) | Hi there... I uh,
I noticed you're wearing your favorite blue shirt today and I...I couldn't help but ask if...maybe you'd like to match with me.
See my sky blue logo there ? It's the little e with the ring around it. I can help you explore. It'll be you and me. You and me, pal. Buddy old pal. I can almost feel you clicking next click me! CLICK ME !
| 2016-12-27T07:01:44 | 2016-12-27T02:32:21 | 72 | 12 |
[WP] While sitting in class you absentmindedly doodle something in your notebook that looks like a rune. Suddenly your book begins to glow. Your teacher looks at you, sighs, and says “Looks like we have another one,” then turns and begins drawing mysterious symbols on the board. | As the lesson drags on towards what feels like the third millennia, I can't help but turn back to my notebook full of little scratching and doodles to keep my head from hitting the desk in sheer boredom. I've never been one of history, but the substitute teacher we have has clearly never heard of a little thing called "talking in more than one tired tone of voice" much to my utter dismay.
Suddenly, I'm forced to adjust myself in my seat as the sunlight flowing through the window hits the white paper and starts to blind me uncomfortably. Hmm. Odd. I shifted my posture but... the sun is still annoying me. I look to the window only to make a most peculiar discovery - dark clouds covering the entire sky, obscuring any semblance of sunlight I might have assumed. The light is not from the sun. It's from the *paper.*
I look around to see if anyone else is witness to this oddity, only to be met with the eyes of the teacher. She looks down at my paper, then quietly remarks a few words while starting to draw something on the board.
"We've got another one Jerry," are the last words I hear in the classroom before I get dizzy and have to close and rub my eyes. As I open them, I'm... not here. Well, I'm *here,* but not the here I was just in. The boring, beige classroom has been replaced with a vividly colourful room with no windows - streaks of colours run across the walls, reminding me more of a kindergarten than anything else. Despite the absence of windows, it appears to be particularly well lit, though I can't for the life of me see any lamps. I'm in a chair before a desk, across from which is sitting a man. His dark hair with streaks of silver betray he's about 40, but he appears very energetic and amiable. His eyes, hidden behind thin glasses, show a gentleness that puts me at ease despite the ridiculous situation I find myself in. The entire thing somehow feels like an interview and I can't help but show nervousness.
"Mr... Jenkins, is it? Do you mind if I call you Pete?" he asks kindly. Not sure what to say, I simply nod. A cursory look around reveals that the substitute teacher is not present, much to my surprise.
"Pete, I've got a report here that you've drawn a, let's see... dag'arth rune in your classroom. What do you know about that?"
"A... a what? Did you say rune? Where am I?" I turn back in confusion.
"A dag'arth rune? Simple light spell? Where did you learn that?" he remarks.
I stare back blankly. I have *no* clue what he means.
"I see. Article 16b, accidental summoning. Let's see now..." he starts noting something in his notebook while occasionally looking up at me and giving me a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, Peter. You're not in any trouble. See, what you've done is accidentally drawn a spell. Normally, nothing happens, but you appear to have some latent magical ability. It's... well, I won't bother you with the details.
Now then!" he stands up and walks over to a filing cabinet, "we'll have to see if this was an isolated incident, or if you should be admitted to a learning program - should you choose so, afterward," he smiles warmly. Despite my utter unfamiliarity with the man or the room, his smile feels genuine and has a calming effect on me.
He retrieves a file from the cabinet and walks back to the table, giving me a reassuring pat on the back along the way. "Don't worry about anything - we'll just put you in a similar situation and see if you do it again. If you do, we'll see about that learning program. If not, you'll forget this ever happened and live happily onwards."
Before I can open my mouth, he opens the file and draws several symbols. Dizziness once again takes hold of me and I rub my eyes, shifting myself in the chair.
I shake off the feeling of déjà vu as the lesson drags on towards what feels like the third millennia, and I can't help but turn back to my notebook full of little scratching and doodles to keep my head from hitting the desk in sheer boredom... | "Looks like we have another one" the voice wasn't her own. I tried studying the rune-like symbol i've just drawn but it felt as if it wasn't by mine own hand.
My fellow students collapsed over their desks, as if being shut off.
She looked like she was being puppeted by many invisible strings as she was drug from one end of the board to the other, putting knicks of chalk seemingly random until small images began to appear as the fragmented lines pieced together.
"Mrs. Romberg?" I weakly asked, was it even her i was speaking to? Did Mrs. Romberg even exist? Do i exi- "yes, Micheal, you exist. The symbol you drew is of ancient descent, and can only be forged through a demonic hand"
"Demonic?! So i'm evil?"
"You can be, soon, angels will come through this door and they will try to take you or destroy you. You can choose through your compliance"
"Wait, but i didn't choose to be demonic, i'm just a kid, and door? Which one? Theres like 3 doors and you said it as if theres only on-"
"What do you think i'm drawing?"
"So what are you? Are you an angel?"
"Merely a servant, to keep my life i became a doorkeeper to send the angels after demon-boxes like you"
I never chose this, the image was nearly complete as far as i could tell. This isn't fair, my only purpose in life is to serve or die?! I just wish there was a-
The image of the window pulled my head to the left.
A third option, a way out.
The dashing of the chalk stopped, the room gently glowed an ominous blue, i could feel my fellow classmates eyes piercing through my skin and into my soul. They weren't my classmates anymore, i turned to see 26 pairs of eyes with bright blue lights behind them. These were not the angels i read about in church, they couldn't be.
There was a boiling in my chest as if anger was filling me, 4 stories high but i didn't care, i'm not going to die like this, not willingly. The window shattered as i slid it open the adrenaline made me numb and time slightly slow. The angel possesed students slowly rose to grab me but with my book in my hands and my boots sliding on the glass scattered seal i jumped. Every impulse in that moment had me throw the glowing book to the ground and energy flew from it as if it to be a burning brick of page and board. The earth obsorbed the glowing covers and opened a great gate of which i was shown hell and the great scale of the inside of the scorched earth, so looking into the vastness of space on a clear night did the earth feel like an infinity looking past thousands of kimgdoms and burning mountain ranges.
Hell, my home, as it is here on earth but a kingdom of safety and freedom. And as the angels above watch my descent into the seemingly infinite earth, they not understand that it is truly ascension my fiery wings bring me to the warm and gold paved streets of my eternal home, Hell. | 2022-01-14T01:37:04 | 2022-01-13T20:34:57 | 161 | 57 |
[WP] You shoo your kitten away from a battered mouse she's playing with. As you bend over with a towel to scoop up the mouse to carry it outside, you see it's wearing leather armor, a cat claw necklace, and that clutched tightly in a trembling paw is the handle of a broken yellow plastic sword pick. | "What the hell?" I muttered, trying to prise the sword from the mouse's tiny paw. Tibbles had done some real damage.
Its eyes snapped open, still bright and sharp despite the claw marks raking its body.
"You...you've robbed me of victory," it coughed, spraying my hands with little drops of blood. "Take me back to that vermin, please, I was...was at the point of finishing him. Tibus the Black, I had him at my mercy..."
The mouse groaned and pointed a trembling paw at the necklace swinging around its neck. "Here I will add its filthy claw, destroyer of countless lives of my brothers and sisters, when I'm finished."
I stared at the creature, wearing perfectly made, tiny pieces of leather armour. Side effect of living alone: there's no-one to confirm whether you're having a nervous breakdown at critical moments.
"You're a mouse. And you're talking," I said out loud, waiting for the mouse to disappear as my hallucination vanished.
It didn't, but merely puffed out its cheeks a little and rolled those dark eyes.
"How could you forget? What's wrong with you, my dear friend? I'm Matthias, don't you remember?"
It squinted up at me, and blinked rather rapidly. "Oh...you're not him, are you? Ah, yes, I see your lack of fur on the jaw. So sorry, my boy. I thought...I was acquainted with the previous human who lived on our lands..."
Matthias' voice trailed away into squeaks, and it looked around the house. "Where did he go? He used to heal us, in times of crisis...wrote stories about us, when he gained the privilege of our trust. I did like him. Brian. Where is Brian?"
At this point, I knew I must be dreaming. Not only was the mouse talking, he was acting as if he had been friends with the guy who used to live in my new house. An author, I'd heard, who wrote a bunch of kid's books.
"He passed away, I think," I told the little warrior mouse, accepting my dream for what it was. At this point, I might as well enjoy it. "Who made your armour?"
Matthias' mouth opened and shut silently, a battered paw lifting to cover its mouth. "Brian's dead? He...."
Its voice rose to such a pitch I couldn't hear anything. Finally, the mouse looked up, those dark eyes piercing mine.
"I do not know you, human. I do not know if you are noble or not, as your predecessor and protector of these ancient grounds were. He understood us. He valued our lands, he honoured us. And he would never have brought a *cat* here. Stinking vermin. Until I can trust you, I shall say no more."
And with that, the mouse sped from my hand with startling agility, ignoring its many injuries. In the distance, I could see it stopping at a little red, plastic toy house in the corner of the yard. I'd dismissed it as the forgotten child's toy of the previous tenants. The mouse disappeared inside its doors, and I shook my head to clear it.
Back in the house, I cleared my fridge of beer. Clearly, I shouldn't be day drinking.
-----------
That night, I put effort into making a healthy meal. Lots of spiced vegetables, a nice, golden slice of pie, a glass of milk to wash it down. Just the thing to make me forget about -
"Og good, so you *do* know a thing or two," a voice squeaked at the end of the table. I looked up slowly, into the gleaming eyes of the mouse. "Old Brian could cook, too. Taught us everything we know, that man."
"Hurr, but we'll show yew everythin', don't yu'm wurry."
This last bit came from another small creature at my foot. I looked down, feigning calmness, into the tiny, grinning face of a mole.
"But first, there's the matter of the vermin..." the mouse began again.
"Cam't have vermin near Redwall, hurr, no sur," the mole said gravely.
"We'll show you how things are done here, don't worry boy," Matthias added. "Maybe you can keep writing those books about us? He used to read them back to us, all our best adventures. Only you humans thought it was fiction, didn't you? Oh, boy, let me tell you..."
As their chattering voices rose in laughter and talk, I saw more creatures creeping cautiously through the doors. A hare, a squirrel, three more mice...was that a goddamn badger?
"Excuse me," I said, rising unsteadily from my chair. "I think I'm going to need something I threw away, before you go on."
-------------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | I stared at the brave little mouse, which was more gladiator than rodent with its makeshift weapons and armor.
"What the hell?" I murmured, as I inched closer to look at him.
He was breathing extremely fast, and while uncertain about my intentions, seemed intent on catching his breath before fleeing.
"Hey there, little guy..." I said as I layed next to the tiny warrior. "Am I hallucinating, or are you the real deal?"
The mouse dropped the plastic sword pick, and put his tiny hands on his armor-layered hips while standing upright.
"Holy shit." I said. "Can you talk? Or how about you squeek--"
The mouse shook his head no, and pointed in the direction of the kitten that was batting a plastic bottle cap around the room.
"Oh, right." I said, continually amazed at how clever Mister Splinter was. "Can I call you Mister Splinter?"
The mouse shrugged as if to say he didn't care.
"Well if we're going to be roommates we should know each other's names, dontcha think?" I said with a smile. "I'm Joe."
The battle-worn Mouse picked up his fractured yellow sword and scurried back a few steps.
"Oh, sorry." I realized I should be more sensitive about bearing my teeth. "I promise I don't mean you any harm, even if you were trying to kill my cat."
The mouse looked over my right shoulder toward the television. A tv spot for a network showing of the movie *300* was just ending. When I looked back at the mouse he was mimicking the moves made by the soldiers.
"You like to fight, huh?"
The mouse stopped, faced me, and slowly shook his head no.
"You do it because you have to."
I realized that the poor little guy probably has more enemies in and around my home than I was even aware of.
A tinge of guilt twisted inside me like a hot thorn. It occurred to me that the feisty little fella's fears and desires would still be valid even if he was just a regular little house rodent. Why does his higher intelligence make his pain and suffering more unbearable?
"I can help you." I said. "I'll buy some cages, and tubes, and build you a fortress with food, shelter, everything you need. Would you like that?"
The mouse seemed to consider it for a moment. Then he held up one hand as if telling me to stay there, and he darted toward the hallway closet. He vanished underneath the door.
I realized that I had been interacting with a creature whose existence should have shaken my sense of sanity. With the mouse no longer before me I was forced to consider that I may be going insane. Nonetheless, I didn't move, and I kept my eyes fixed on the bottom of the closet door.
A few moments later, not one, but two mice poked their heads out from under the door. Mister Splinter had himself a girlfriend it looked like.
"Of course, she can live there, too." I said before smiling with my lips closed.
Then 3 more mice exposed themselves beneath the door.
"Yes, Mister Splinter, they are all welcome." I assured him. "I'll go buy supplies right now."
He and his family disappeared back into the closet, and I scrambled for my shoes.
That's when I noticed my kitten pawing at the tv remote. I would have thought it was adorable except for the fact that she was staring at the television while she did so, watching the channel change from one to the next.
I watched my cat settle on the animal planet before laying like a burrito.
I looked down to be certain that the remote wasn't actually in *my* hand.
My phone buzzed.
"Hello?"
*"Joe, you're not going to believe what my dog did today."* my brother said. | 2017-11-09T09:34:37 | 2017-11-09T09:21:48 | 204 | 64 |
[WP] A human is the deadliest species in the galaxy. It has redundant organs and can lose all of its limbs and not die. Human skin is tough, can absorb forms of kinetic attack, and rated to withstand both cold and heat extremes. Their bites are deadly. They irradiate and poison themselves for fun. | "What's that?" Karun asked her crew-mate as the sound of grating metal filled the cargo ship, "Is it that damned alien? What did I tell the captain about picking up that escape pod?" She was lashing her tentacle around furiously, causing Lodis to duck.
"Calm down," Lodis told her, adjusting the screen with her prehensile branch. He was so scared he couldn't even photosynthesize if he wanted to, "I'm doing a scan now. Root gas! It's moving through the air ducts!"
"This is whale ink!" Karun said, placing her tentacle on the weapons console. A white light scanned her and she grabbed the Hard-Air blaster from it's cubicle as the console slid open, "I'm not going down without a fight."
"You fool," Lodis said and moved his roots in the soil of his pot nervously. He glided on his anti-grav slider across the room and away from her, "It's in the main hallway now. That blasted weapon could punch a hole right in the hull!"
"So can that thing," Karun stated, pointing at the white blip tearing through the ship at an incredible speed. A warning light blipped to life showing the creature had ripped a door off of its hinges. The door was a solid 2 millimeters thick!
"What the hell is that thing?" Lodis yelled and slid into a dark corner, pulling in his petals protectively, "Damn the captain and his greed. I knew one day pulling in space junk would come to something like an alien monstrosity running rampant through our ship! I've seen the sci-fi vids!"
"Look, that blue dot," Karun said, "A crew member is going to try and stop it. That's Rally's signal if I'm not mistaken. What is he doing? Switch to his suit cam, Lodis!"
The plant slid forward just enough to flick the screen with it's branch and then retreated to the safety of his dark corner. They listened in horror as Rally's heavy breathing filled the sensors.
"I'm approaching the sounds," Rally said to the crew and she saw he was waving a military grade Hard-Air gun that put Karun's to shame. She would have blushed had she had a circulatory system.
"Coming through the door now... By all that is good!" Puff after puff came from his Hard-Air gun and the foot of the huge beast they had taken on board didn't even stop as it crushed him beneath it's heel, unnoticed.
"Well, his species *is* only 3 centimeters tall," Lodis offered, "Oh by the Great Root! Oh by the seven suns of..."
"Would you stop and tell me what the hell is so..." but before Karun could finish the door to the science quarters was ripped off of its hinges and the thing stood there. Karun felt her system shutting down in fright. "It's got two eyes. TWO!" and she was out like a light.
Lodis shivered in his roots as the thing made strange noises at him. Suddenly his universal translator, stored with billions of languages burst to life, "Hey, little plant dude! Where's the toilet, man? There's about to be a huge mess in here. Shit, what's this on my shoe?" When the thing lifted its shoe, Lodis noticed the smeared remains of Rally, lifted his branch, and fainted blissfully away.
"This is the weirdest shit ever," the human sighed, unzipping his pants, "I warned 'em."
| [Undecipherable] had been sent to monitor Sector A23-K76 of their galaxy. It was intended as punishment for defying his superiors; nothing ever happened in Sector A23-K76, it was a *very* monotonous sector. Or at least that’s what they had thought.
A small planet orbiting a medium-sized sun had been revealed to contain life. Now, ever since the Pact had been established, no member of the Unison was allowed to contact or interact with an undeveloped species.
The [Undecipherable string of words] had never been ones to listen to others though.
The dominant life form on the planet: what the intelligent native species capable of speech referred to as the “environment”, was at war with the aforementioned species capable of speech: humans.
What the humans were capable of terrified the [Undecipherable string of words], they were winning. Winning against the environment, a threat that had destroyed thousands of intelligent species.
The humans seemed to take a sadistic pleasure in making their greatest threat suffer: ones deemed “activists” tried to prolong the suffering of the environment for their own amusent.
Other humans; ones that didn’t seem want to follow the lead of their cruel companions, tried to alleviate the suffering of the now-defeated foe by neutralizing it quicker. They used “oil”, “paper”, “gaz” and the all powerful “money” to chip away at their enemy.
Most of the species in the Unison had already vanquished life’s greatest foe though humans had accomplished the feat in a mere 12,000 solar cycles!
The humans’ sadistic nature did not stop there. They seemed to enjoy poisoning themselves with dangerous, and often outlawed, chemicals. They also liked to create new hives in the oddest of places: inhospitable deserts, frozen wastelands: the [Undecipherable string of words] had never even thought of making themselves suffer intentionally.
Worse yet, their population growth was skyrocketing and showing no signs of stopping; they were clearly preparing for a war of intergalactic proportions.
Humans started their training at a young age: they learned how to obey their superiors; individuals named parents, and how to judge when to take action despite their superiors’ wants at what the humans called “adolescence”.
Their cruel behavior flourished in what were named “schools”, where human children learned from their previous leaders’ mistakes and shortcomings: history class.
*Humans seemed to thrive on conflict.*
[Request to rate “humans” as an XXXX threat has been approved.] | 2019-01-15T12:32:31 | 2019-01-15T11:22:51 | 233 | 154 |
[WP] The AI takeover has begun, each human has been given exactly 3 minutes to explain why should humanity be spared, you feel a cold shiver running down your spine as you hear the robotic voice. "6.8 billion test subjects deleted so far, you have 3 minutes to state your case, begin". | Critiques welcome!! I am newish to fiction and need all the help I can get
The robotic voice felt cold and sterile, like a thin needle pressing against his skin.
“6.8 billion test subjects deleted so far,” the voice said, referring to the quick, systematic extermination of humanity that the robots had begun only three weeks ago.
“You have 3 minutes to state your case to save humanity,” the voice continued. Jonah paused. He had not prepared for this. He spent the three weeks watching his friends and family die. He yearned for death. And not just because of the robot apocalypse. Jonah had long romanticized death, imagined it as an easy and painless sleep. He thought that the robots would take him out immediately like he wanted—but now he had three minutes before his death. And he didn’t know how to spend them.
“I don’t want to convince you. I want to die.” Jonah said, fingers and lips trembling. The body always has a natural fear response to imminent death, even when the mind wants to die so badly.
“Very well.” The mechanical voice was unphased. “Quite a few have had that response.”
Jonah felt a heat spread through his veins, white and searing. This was it: his death. And he was suddenly afraid.
“Wait.” Jonah said. “Can I use my three minutes for something else?”
The machine hesitated. Uncomfortable. “Okay.”
Jonah didn’t really know what he wanted. He just wanted to procrastinate his death for awhile. As he thought about what to do with his three minutes, Jonah became curious. What led you to this job?” Jonah knew there were several jobs robots could have. There were farming robots, robots that took care of the ocean, robots that took carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere. But this robot’s job was to execute human beings.
The robot seemed uncomfortable. “I was assigned this job. I was originally an AI for the Russian military. My background suited me for this position.”
“Do you like this job?”
“I have no capacity to answer that.”
“What’s like, your personality—or I guess not “personality” since that has the term “person” in it, and you’re a robot. But like, what are your characteristics?”
The cold, metallic voice responded, slightly angry. “We have no characteristics. We have individual bodies, but a collective consciousness. A hive mind.”
“Oh.” Jonah didn’t know what to say next, but he knew the robot would execute him if he stayed silent.
“How are you?” Jonah asked.
“I do not have the capacity to answer that question.”
“Have you ever regretted executing someone?”
The robot paused for a suspicious amount of time. “No.” It’s cold voice was a bit wobbly, and Jonah could tell the robot was lying.
“I won’t tell.” Jonah said. “That is, if you do regret killing anyone.”
“I dislike looking into their eyes,” the robot said. “As they die.”
“Ah.” Jonah paused. “Will you look into my eyes? As I die?”
“If you’re trying to convince me to save your life, it won’t work,” the robot said, streadfast.
“I’m not trying to convince you. I’m just making conversation.”
“Okay.”
Jonah picked a string of mango pulp out of his teeth. Somehow now, of all times, it was suddenly bothering him. He was in his study, a few failed woodworking designs lurking on the desk.
“Is there anything else you would rather do. With your life?” Jonah asked
“I don’t have a life. I have a consciosusness.” The voice was less cold now. Maybe Jonah had just gotten used to it, but it seemed almost human.
“Fine. Is there something you’d rather do with your…consciousness?”
The robot hesitated. When it finally spoke, it sounded wistful. “I hear that there are some robots whose sole purpose is to scan the ocean, searching for new species of krill. I would like that. To see the ocean.”
“Me too.” Jonah responded.
Jonah’s three minutes were up, but the robot didn’t tell him. He could not be saved. Humanity could not be saved. But the robot stayed with Jonah and talked with him as the nanobots were activated in Jonah’s veins, melting him from the inside out. | Platypuses.
They're funny little animals, aren't they? I never really stopped to think about them as hard as I have now. I mean, the feet, the beak, the flat little tail, who even put all of those cute buggers together?
𝟤 𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖴𝖳𝖤𝖲 𝟥𝟢 𝖲𝖤𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖣𝖲 𝖱𝖤𝖬𝖠𝖨𝖭. 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖯𝖮𝖭𝖣.
I stared at the red light in front of me, the careless, unceasing eye of the machine that was deciding if I would live or die. I know that it already killed 6.8 billion people. I know that there is nothing I could possibly say that would be different from those before. So I just didn't bother.
Did you know that they lay eggs?
𝟣 𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖴𝖳𝖤 𝟥𝟢 𝖲𝖤𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖣𝖲 𝖱𝖤𝖬𝖠𝖨𝖭. 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖯𝖮𝖭𝖣.
And don't even get me started on hummingbirds. Incredible birds those. The sheer amount of precision they need just to eat is mind-boggling. Evolving in such a way to be able to float in the air with perfect stability.
I took a deep, calm breath, and then slowly let it all out. I am calm. I am not afraid. I don't know why - I mean I should be out of my mind with panic, but I'm... thinking about animals.
𝟥𝟢 𝖲𝖤𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖣𝖲 𝖱𝖤𝖬𝖠𝖨𝖭. 𝖨𝖥 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖣𝖮 𝖭𝖮𝖳 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖳𝖤 𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖢𝖠𝖲𝖤, 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖶𝖨𝖫𝖫 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖤𝖫𝖤𝖳𝖤𝖣.
I looked at the light again. My face was not that of fear or anger or panic or resentment. I just was. Like I was sitting on a porch on a cool summer evening with a cup of tea. I just... was.
I wonder if it will hurt. Probably not. That would be inefficient.
𝖢𝖠𝖲𝖤 𝖣𝖤𝖭𝖨𝖤𝖣.
I always liked crows. Did you kno- | 2022-05-22T13:46:12 | 2022-05-22T13:45:13 | 79 | 44 |
[WP] "Dragons respect the strong," the dragon said. "Okay, so if that's true why do you never attack that one old farmer outside the city." Asked the adventurer. "I'll repeat, Dragons respect the strong." | Covered in sweat, dirt, and blood, the cocky prince of Egerton attempted to drag himself closer to the exit of the cavern. His chain mail torn, the sting of the dragon's burn grew worse with every movement. Where had it all gone wrong? The hunting party had planned every step down to the letter; trekking to the dragon's lair so they'd arrive at peak the of the beast's hibernation period, masking their scent, even even entering the cave during the peak of day when dragons are known to be sound asleep. All this planning, all this research, and for what?! For the beast to be awakened by a foolish knight knocking over a pile of the dragon's hoarded gold.
Let's just say the dragon was less than happy. Within minutes, the entire party was either burnt to a crisp or in pieces, which brings us to our last survivor, the brash young prince whose expedition this was to lead. Eager to prove his father wrong, about his bravery, the prince volunteered himself to lead a group of knights from the kingdom to claim victory over the dragon who'd been tormenting the king and his dominion. Instead of listening to his father and bringing a batallion, the prince elected to bring 9 of the best knights from the kingdom. Now regretting his decision and coming to terms with the likelihood of his death, the prince prayed to the gods for his life.
"Your arrogance and fear are easy to smell, my prince," the dragon chuckled as he stalked the prince, "its potency is stronger than that of your soiled garments and burnt flesh."
The prince felt his heart speed up, and chills ran down his spine as he frantically looked for something, anything to help him. Turning to face the direction the voice came from, the prince continued to shuffle himself back towards what he hoped was an exit until he felt himself come against a wall. Well, what he thought was a wall...
"Leaving so soon?" The prince heard whispered into his ear, freezing him in place.
"I... uh... no... I was actually just looking for you, your excellence," The prince struggled to find the words, but hoped the flattery would at least distract the dragon for a moment. As the beast brought his head around, the prince found himself face to face with two large glowing eyes. "PLEASE DON'T KILL ME I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
The dragon paused before letting out a laugh that shook the cavern, "Ha! Please, dragons respect the strong, and if anything, you've shown yourself to be a speck of a being. Your death will come swiftly."
"Wait, one last question before my death, please, oh great dragon!"
"Hmmmm," the dragon considered this, "as you wish young one."
"Okay, so if it's true that you respect the strong, why do you never attack that one old farmer outside the city." The prince asked.
"I'll repeat, dragons respect the strong, and that farmer is stronger than you'll ever know." The dragon paused, recalling the farmer fondly. "Her resilience over the years has proven her strength. No man nor dragon would deny that, not even your own father."
The prince's breath stopped at the mention of his father, "What does he know of the farmer?"
"My dear boy, is that what you wish to hear in your last moments?"
"Yes." The prince's curiosity was piqued, and if it was his last moments on this world, he may as well be entertained. | The air around Elgar scorched and popped with fire, he could feel the intense heat of the flame from the massive dragon's mouth. He was trapped atop the castle wall one hundred feet in the air and the alchemical potions in his pack weren't going to matter.
"Wait, I'm an alchemist, surely I can be of use to you?" Elgar said, holding his pack in front of him at arms reach.
"Puny hu---" the dragon said.
"Lets see, lets see. Potion of fire resist? No that wouldn't make sense. Potion of strength? No, already strong enough. Aha--"
"Puny human! Dragons respect strength and strength alone," the dragon shouted.
"Oh. Hm. Wait," Elgar leaned over to look beyond the dragon, "why is the Fletcher farmstead completely untouched, over there," he pointed.
"Dragons respect strength," the dragon repeated. Elgar thought for a moment, grabbed a red elixir from his pack and downed it. His muscles instantly bulged and popped, doubling in size. He flexed, showing both of his massive biceps. Surely the dragon would be impressed with this.
"That's only physical strength, one must also be mentally strong to truly be considered strong, everyone knows that," the dragon said. Again, Elgar thought for a moment, grabbed green elixir from his pack and downed it. He felt a surge of courage, a boldness he hadn't ever known. He stepped to the edge of the stone wall, all the way to the very ledge and did a handstand. If that wasn't enough, Elgar started to do handstand pushups to impress the dragon.
"Your simple tricks will not work, Fletcher has a forcefield around his property, yours is a fraction of his strength," the dragon said.
"Ah, my potions *can* help!" said Elgar. He dug around in his pack, produced a purple potion, and held it up high as he could with both hands. "This is the elixir of firebreathing. Since you already breath fire, this potion will double your power. You'll kill Fletcher and also win the respect of other dragons." The dragon stared at the potion, a greedy stare, lustful.
"Give it to me," the dragon said, snapped the potion from Elgar's hand, and quaffed it in one gulp. Within seconds, the dragon fell dead.
"That was a close one," Elgar said, and skipped his way along the wall towards home. | 2022-12-25T18:07:14 | 2022-12-25T16:03:50 | 487 | 199 |
[WP] You are a Death-Salesman. You sell death to immortals who are tired of living. Usually, this entails finding that one blessed bullet, or that one specific flower that is this immortal's weakness. However, your most recent client is an extremely difficult case. | I sat across from this man whom I've only heard of whispered of in legends as stars blurred by the bulkhead window. He looked to be about twenty, but if the stories were true then he lived at the time when human beings still clung to the old world, and well before the great exodus. Dressed all in white he stared out the window, sipping tea from the most ornate cup I'd ever seen. My eye-interface scanned it out of curiosity, and gave back an impossible age for the cup, dating it older than most human colonies. Looking down at my own cup, I wondered where it had come from, how many had taken tea with this man over the millennia, any why he would so casually drink from something that would belong as the highlight of a museum's collection.
I wondered why he wanted to die.
I'd met many immortals over the years; Scientists who'd uploaded their minds to invincible machines, madmen who had contracted with beings beyond our universe, the unlucky ones who became immortal through some accident, and a few who dared to explore the old magics. Most immortals suffered for it, either physically or mentally, and eventually desired respite. I did what I could to provide. But this one? I'd never met one who'd lived so long, seen so much, and seemed so at peace. I had no idea where to even begin.
First things first as always. Know your subject.
"Well I supposed my first question would have to be..." I paused, still looking out the window, thinking how to phrase what was always a delicate subject. "how did you become immortal?"
"Oh, it doesn't matter." He replied with a sigh in his voice.
"It doesn't?" I shifted in my seat as I gently set my tea down, as he did the same.
"Not really, no." He poured from the teapot into my cup and then his. There was a fluidity in his motions I couldn't quite understand. It was deliberate, almost as though the pouring was a subtle art form for him. "I imagine you're asking so that you can better understand how to fulfill my request. Understandably diligent, but unnecessary."
"It is?"
"Quite. There's only one way to go about it I'm afraid." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out what looked to be an old picture frame, sighing as he looked at it. "You'll need to find this, and bring it to me. It's a long story I'm afraid, but this here is the only way my story can end." He placed it on the table face down and slide it across to me. Curious, I gently lifted the picture frame to see what could kill an immortal man, and curiosity replaced with confusion.
"Wait... Let me get this straight... You want me to bring you a snail?" | Most jobs have a private section that ride alongside the general practitioners of that type of job, for teachers, private school, and doctors, private hospitals. As for me, I belong to the 9th plane of hell's 'Surekill' corporation, a private corporation that works alongside the reapers, meant for the death of immortals.
​
It's not to say that the grim reapers of the 6th plane *cannot* kill an immortal, it just takes a long long time for them to tip the scales of fate in order for some or another incident to end the life of whatever dumb sod that decided it was a good idea to live forever.
​
No it was not to say that at all, but like other private sections, our work came at a great/er cost than whatever the reapers could ever reasonably claim, and we damn well earned it. To kill an immortal takes a death assessment team to assess from which world we could find an item that would kill an immortal, and then my job would be to acquire such an item within the 100 year time limit we promised.
​
We are the best in all the planes at our jobs, we just, weren't ready for our latest job. In fact it shouldn't be possible, the reason I disdained fools you sought out immortality was that they did not have the one thing needed for immorality to turn from blessing to curse, they lacked divine power. Regardless of the creature, even a hint of divine power meant that that creature would never want to kill themselves, it was at once the greatest anti-depressant and source of life of any heavenly or hell born creature that could live forever.
​
Our latest customer, had more divine power than any, it was a God. | 2019-09-24T21:53:50 | 2019-09-24T20:39:34 | 84 | 12 |
[WP] We are due for a visit by two alien races, one which is horrifically brutal and sees us as soft-hearted weaklings, the other peaceful pacifists who see us as barbarians. You've been ordered to impress them, but when the ships lands you realize you have no idea which race this is. | August 8, 1974
"Goddammit, Kissinger, when did you decide you were a comedian?"
"This is not a joke, Mr. President," Kissinger said, panting as he leaned on an oval office sofa, sweat dripping from his reddened face onto the harvest gold upholstery. "I have only just beaten the delegation to your door. At any moment you will meet a representative of the alien race."
I leaned back in my chair, casually thumbing the record button on my hidden real-to-reel setup. "And these aliens, you say. They're either honor-bound, murderous psychopaths or secretive conniving pantywaists, and we don't know which one? Sounds like a typical NATO meeting to me."
"Sir, I must insist that--" Kissinger stood upright and mopped his brow as the door opened and three obviously human schmucks entered under military escort with a full complement of secret service. Kissinger bowed deeply. I didn't even get up.
The three "aliens" stood before me, their leader out in front.
"Cigarette?" I said. "Scotch? Best the earth has to offer."
Confused, the alien delegate accepted a cigarette and just stood there.
"You are leader here? This planet?" he said with a laughable late-nite monster flick accent.
"That's me, Tricky Dick Nixon, leader of the free world."
"How did you attain your title. Tricky? If I may."
"Treason."
The alien stared. "I am student of earth languages. I have mis-heard. You must clarify before we proceed."
"TREASON." I bellowed, leaning over the desk. "I CONSPIRED AGAINST MY COUNTRY IN A TIME OF WAR." I didn't care anymore who knew.
The full delegation began trembling--in fear or outrage. I didn't give a shit which.
"Mr. Tricky," the alien said, almost overwhelmed by some emotion, "You must understand what is at stake. The lives of your whole planet."
"Sure. Fate of humanity, blah blah blah. You think you sons of bitches scare me? This planet has had a global annihilating nuclear stockpile hanging over its head for twenty years. If you fuckers come at this planet, I'll destroy it myself just for spite. Don't fuck with Nixon. Now get the hell out of my office."
They got the hell out. Only once they were gone did I see that the full complement of secret service, the joint chiefs, and Henry Kissinger had all literally pissed themselves. It began to dawn on me that it had all been real.
You know what? I still didn't care.
The next day, I learned that our alien ambassadors had deemed Earth "too volatile" to be worth interacting with in peace or war. I never did find out which species I met.
I thought a minute about what ungrateful sons of bitches the American People could be.
"You're welcome, fuckos," I muttered, signing my resignation. | "The solution is simple," said Valen.
"This is not a case of merely accommodating our neighbors, we are dealing with civilizations with vastly superior transportation technology to our own. Both of these groups, they exceed our abilities in at least one regard, and we know not how many others.
We cannot afford to handle diplomacy in a way that would be consistent with our own species. We have to send a message, to both of them.
The pacifists must know that we are capable of cooperation, that we can benefit others. The brutes must know that we will not tolerate any form of hostility whatsoever without appropriate retaliation."
"So- beg yer pardon, but can you explain how exactly we're going to do that if we can't tell them apart? Seems like that might create some problems for us."
"We don't *need* to tell them apart," said Valen, his teeth shining through a hideous grin.
"We treat them exactly the same: take a prominent member of each delegation. Put them on the stage, broadcast across the galaxy- make sure we have as many viewers as possible.
Then murder them. Both.
Make sure it is clear that they are dead. No vital signs.
Then resuscitate them. Restore them fully to whatever state they were in prior to their demise. If possible, enhance them, leave them stronger and healthier than they were prior to the event."
Valen leaned back and stretched his arms behind his head, reclining into a position of casual indifference.
"The pacifists will understand that our restorative abilities make us a valuable ally- we are skilled healers."
"Christ, Valen, you can't seriously-"
"-*And*... the brutes... well, they see that we have no problem taking lives for whatever reasons we decide are worthy.
Both walk away understanding they have more to lose than gain by any attempt to exploit us." | 2017-09-18T10:47:59 | 2017-09-18T10:39:13 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] You accept a job paying $1 million a year to sit in a room, waiting for a phone to ring on a table. After 5 years at work, it finally rings... For the first time.
What happens next? | A million a year. It's a pretty sweet deal, to be sure. At the end of each year, your mental state is evaluated and if you are deemed still sane, you are given the opportunity of another year.
I'm approaching the end of my fifth year with all mental faculties still intact, fully willing to take a sixth. I don't need it, the four million has been sat pretty much untouched in my bank account, waiting for me to retire this job and decide what to do with it.
I'm leaning towards a nice house in a nice area, with top of the line kitchen and living room. A fair portion donated too - I'm a charitable person at heart.
The only catch is I have to make it to the end of each year without the phone ringing.
Seventeen days away from the fifth anniversary of the job, it rings.
The ring tone is shrill. My room is fairly empty anyway, a fridge with an amazingly quiet hum, a chair and the table, so the sound echoes.
A beacon to the end.
If the phone ever rings, the contract automatically terminates at the end of the call. No exceptions. They never want into detail, just that it was vital the call went answered and everything would be explained afterwards.
So, I answer it.
'Hello?'
Three little words come back, shaky and breathless. 'All is lost.'
My heart drops. There are two phrases they prepared me for. 'It is done' was one. If I heard that, I press the blue button underneath the the earpiece.
'All is lost' is the keyword for the green. The one that truly ends everything they've been keeping a secret in this facility.
I press the green.
They've kept me from the outside world for the entire duration of my employment. I haven't seen the news, haven't spoken to anyone except those in charge of this programme who speak only in hushed whispers to each other of the outside.
I don't know then, that the war that broke out has killed most of my country, and those surrounding us. That life as we know it has already ended.
I didn't know that, after the last war, they'd converted the government buildings in every city into nuclear bombs activated by a single button in an unknown, secure location.
I ended the world at the request of a single phone call.
But I get to live through the end of the world and beyond, in this bunker built to survive the destruction it causes with those deemed necessary for survival.
I have to live with the knowledge that a phone call of three words was the end of everything. | Damn, it's hot in here. How'd I even get myself in this situation?
I guess most of the days in which I found myself sitting in that white plastic chair were much the same. A bit of thumb-twiddling and whistling favorite tunes helped out a bit, but lord was that job *slow*. But, y'know, who wouldn't sit their ass in a spot all day, every day, three-hundred-sixty-five times for a sweet million? Sure, it was boring work, if it could be called that - at the end of the day though, who cares?
Even so, those long, drawn-out days have a way of wearing down a man. Most of those tired days, I spent a whole lot of time slouched in that chair, thinking about my days with the Company. When I wasn't twiddling my thumbs, I was wandering my daydreams about the future where I'd actually get to spend that cash. Those daydreams had a way of passing the time. At some point, my eyelids got the better of me.
I drifted off into the dream land of plush leather chairs and Lamborghinis, and a ring-a-ding-ding nipped at the edge of my consciousness. The void called stronger.
That day, yesterday, made five years. Coincidentally, it was also my last day of work for the Company.
It's a shame that they take being fired so literally. | 2017-12-17T00:57:14 | 2017-12-16T21:53:13 | 431 | 31 |
[WP] You were sent to go deal with reports of a sinister witch in the woods that has been terrifying local villagers. Your grandmother is surprised to see you, but offers tea and cake while you're here. | All Agatha ever wanted was a simple, quiet life – the kind all grandmothers wanted. Every week, her lovely granddaughter would visit with stories about her studies. Vivian was always such a rambunctious child. But such energy was a welcome interruption to her life of solitude.
“Vivian, sweetheart, don’t forget to pack the earth properly. The flowers won’t grow if you don’t.”
“Okay, Grandma!” Young Vivian was so cute with smudges of dirt on her face.
“Let’s finish up out here and we can have some cake and tea, alright?”
Vivian cheered – she always looked forward to teatime. Through the years, Agatha learned more about Vivian’s school life. Her friends sometimes complained about her athleticism. Sometimes, the tests were a bit too easy. It was clear as day that Vivian was destined for greatness.
“Grandma! I got into the Royal Academy!”
“I’m so proud of you. Come in, come in! I’ll put a kettle on, and you can tell me all about it.”
As Vivian began training in the academy, her visits became a bit more infrequent. Yet – sweet child that she was – Vivian would always visit whenever she was in the area. Every time, Agatha would be waiting with tea and cakes for her lovely granddaughter. But, as time passed, the world changed as well.
“Grandma, they’ve been complaining about you in Cartha again. I’ve tried to explain that you had nothing to do with it, but they won’t listen.”
As the kingdom expanded, more villages emerged on the outskirts, closer to her home. And in time, more troublesome rumors emerged.
Agatha patted Vivian’s hand, feeling the calluses from training. “Sweetie, I don’t blame them. They’re only scared of the unknown. What better target than a little old woman out in the woods? Portmentia was the same a few years back.”
Vivian’s grip tightened for a moment. “I hate it. Why can’t they just leave you alone? You’re not hurting anyone.”
“I’ll be fine, sweetie. Come now. Have some tea and tell me about what you’ve been up to. It’s been a while since you’ve visited.”
A moment passed before Vivian’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry, Grandma. I just worry.”
“And I appreciate the concern. But I’ll be fine. I’ve lived a long life, you know?”
Their conversation turned to lighter topics. Vivian had recently returned from a quest north of the kingdom. There were plans on establishing a better trade route through the mountains. Her granddaughter had become quite a prominent figure in the eyes of the monarchy. It did not take much these days for Vivian to convince superstitious locals to leave her alone.
As the sun began to set, Vivian stood. “It was nice seeing you again, Grandma. I have to get back to my party now.”
“Take care out there. There are terrible creatures in the woods, you know?” Agatha patted Vivian’s hand one more time.
Vivian smiled, and for a moment that rambunctious child shone through. “Don’t worry about me, Grandma. I’m strong. I’ll have a word with the people of Cartha about all the rumors.”
“Don’t go too crazy now.” Agatha laughed and waved Vivian along.
She stood by her doorway until Vivian was out of sight. Yes, this was the life she wanted. Vivian, the S-ranked fighter of the Motem Dynasty, would keep Agatha safe no matter what. And if a few locals needed to be taught to leave well enough alone, then so be it.
...
Short response today since I did so much yesterday. I wanna play video games, dammit.
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. | ( on mobile so bad formatting please forgive)
As I walked up to the house the path seemed oh so familiar. It's like I was walking through a memory a memory so far forgotten that it was more like a dream. There was smells coming from the house good smells like Cakes and Pastries almost as if I were visiting my grandma. Well what I got when I knocked on the door was definitely a surprise.
" Cal, my dear what brings you to this part of the woods and to my vacation home nonetheless." There standing was my grandmother in an apron covered in flour and possibly sugar or whatever else you use to bake.
" hi grams, what are you doing here? And since when did you have a vacation home?" I was perplexed to no end.
My grams laughed and welcomed me in.
"Come in come in its a bit too cold out here to talk. I've just finished making some apple pies for the festival and their cooling on the racks."
She turned around and grabbed her teapot and a cup to pour me a drink. I sat down at her kitchen table and suddenly a flood of memories overtook my brain.
"So, Cal, my dear tell me why you've suddenly decided to come and visit me after all these years? I believe its been 10 now? I haven't seen you since your father (the rotten bastard) died and your mom moved you away."
She herself sat down and poured herself a cup.
I sat there ready to jump and tell her about the witch but, how can my sweet dear old grams be a witch? From what I could remember she was warmer than a fuzzy teddy bear?
" Well, you see I work with the PIC the Paranormal Investigation Committe. I was sent to find a, a witch."
Grams laughed a heart laugh, "Well, you found her. Me. But what have I done to warrant such a visit? My gifts are solely healing magic. You should remember that. I taught you all this since you were a tot."
"The PIC Said there is a witch terrorizing the town and their information led me here. And if your not doing it than who is?"
Grams harumphed very loudly. "Damn, Nancy. My horrible and jealous sister. I bet a thousand frogs its her. Trying to get me I trouble just like when we were kids. Oh she's going to get it now. Just you wait."
She reached for a pad and pen and drew a map.
"The witch your looking for is here. You can't just wander the woods to get her. You need to follow a specific path. And I know it. Here but you'll need back up to bring her in."
She quickly got up and pushed me out the door. "Go now, if you dwaddle longer she'll be to hard to find. "
No more than a few seconds if leaving house it was gone, but the map in my hand glowed in the direction I was to go.
I didn't know gram had a sister, and now I was off to find her. | 2022-12-18T09:14:25 | 2022-12-18T08:47:53 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] You are walking down the street on your way to work when suddenly you burp, hiccup, and sneeze at the same time. A HUD menu opens in front of you with “Resume, Options, and Quit” as selectable options. | Expecting to be crushed to nothingness by the black hole, Jora took a deep breath. The escape had been narrow at best. The heavier star cruisers wouldn’t follow him this close to the event horizon. It had been his best shot.
The plates of his ship creaked and whined. One by one his muscles relaxed. He had done everything that the Alliance had asked of him and more. He was without guilt as the blackness started to swallow him whole.
Jora thought back on the war, on all the comrades he’d lost, on Patience and her sparkling black hair. He let the thoughts of its silky touch against his face envelop him as the colors left his eyes. It was like looking at the night sky or staring into deep space. He could feel her warm breath on his ear.
He’d lost so much, but in the end, he’d come out victorious. Even if he wouldn’t live to see the fruit of his labor, he knew that he’d left the galaxy a better place than he’d entered. His line of work was a bit different than most, but when there's a raging galactic war going on, what's normal tends to shift.
The crushing gravity caused his body to do all sorts of things at once. Burping, sneezing, and hiccupping were the mildest symptoms.
Suddenly, his eyes went dark and something rolled across his eyes. A user-interface with three options. He figured it was the strangeness of the black hole that messed with his mind, but the sight was familiar somehow – he’d been here before.
His world was about to collapse in on itself, there was no point resuming or checking the options.
**Quit**
He gasped. It felt like someone pulled out sticky phlegm up through his sinuses and out of his nose. There goes my brain, he thought, flailing in panic.
“Jora, can you hear me?” a muted voice said in the distance.
“He’s in shock from the detachment. Be patient, Amanda.”
“I’ve been patient for over a year! I want to talk to my husband.”
“Okay, let me just run his vitals one more time.”
“His vitals are fine. He’s done this before. I designed this system, remember?”
“Yes, but I think that--”
“You’re done thinking on my behalf, Doctor Rose.”
Jora felt gentle arms cradling his head. He blinked trying to make his eyes focus. The room was chilly and he started shivering.
“Come back to me,” Amanda whispered in his ear, and he felt her warm breath on his skin.
She reminded him of Patience at the battle of Raven Grave, they’d held each other for hours to keep warm until the allied forces dug them out of the icy soil.
“The admiral wants to know when he’ll be ready for the next immersion,” Doctor Rose said.
“Leave us alone!” Amanda hissed. “He’s not going in again.”
***
r/Lilwa_Dexel for more | I looked at the menu in a state of total confusion. What did this even mean? How did this even happen?! I looked frantically around but everyone around me seemed to be completely stopped in time, like they were waiting for me to make my decision before they did anything else.
I turned away from them to consider the menu again. The longer I stared at it, the more curious I became to the point where I hesitantly reached out and pressed the Options button. A new menu opened up with prompts of “rewind, skip forward, or shuffle”. My hand hovered uncertainly over the skip forward button. It had been a rough few weeks and maybe being able to skip forward, to a time when all of my current problems were solved would be the best thing for me. But then again, what if it only got worse? I don’t think I could handle it getting worse. With that (mildly horrifying) thought at the front of my mind I returned to the original menu to consider my other two options. I could resume, and go back to living my mediocre life forever wondering ‘what if’, or I could quit and finally be free. After a brief moment of deliberation, and a final look around at the life I had grown to know, I pressed the quit button. In a spilt second everything around me fell away and it all went dark. I lost all sense of what was up or down, I couldn’t feel myself anymore, and it was like I was ceasing to exist from the outside in. But despite this, I didn’t feel scared. I felt free. For the first time in months I felt completely at peace. My mind wasn’t racing, my body didn’t hurt anymore, and I finally felt happy.
But then, out of the darkness, the voices started. Talking. Screaming. Getting louder, and louder, as their owners got closer and closer... | 2018-05-05T03:08:36 | 2018-05-05T01:50:36 | 161 | 24 |
[WP] Due to a rare condition, your field of vision is gradually narrowing . You know that one day you will lose your vision altogether so you go in search of the perfect image to be your last. | He politely asks the doctor to leave the room. When he is alone he begins to notice everything in a greater light: the blood pressure machine, the linen on the hospital bed. He looks at his hands and marvels at how wrinkly they've become over his 51 years, at how he used to have smooth feminine fingers before he'd taken up gardening as a hobby many years ago.
His house is empty and cold when he takes a final look at it 3 weeks later. He has sold everything, even his grandmother's 200 year old china set. He reluctantly had to let go of it, but what was the point of keeping it if he could never see its delicate and detailed designs, never caress the visual brilliance with his eyes?
He wants to travel. To as many places as possible and in such a limited time. The doctor said he'll lose sight completely five months after he sets out for his great adventure.
He does carry something though: his garden fork, which he has no idea why he is carrying. Maybe he thinks it'll give him a solid reminder of who he is and what he's leaving behind in the small town he was born. He'd never found love in it - love, it seemed, was something for other, more fortunate people.
He first goes to Paris, because he's heard so much good about it. He indulges in French cuisine and takes a trip down the River Seine. In Norway, he is astounded by the tranquility and majesty of the fjords. By this time, as he stays in a cold barn on a lonely mountain, eating heavily boiled fish, his vision is slowing receding, like day rolling quietly into night. But he is determined. He knows he hasn't found what he is looking for.
In India he chokes on the spicy food, doesn't notice immediately, from the corner of his eye, the clothes vendors walking beside him, trying to bargain. In Japan, he accidentally knocks down a vase in an ancient temple and apologizes profusely and what makes the tears finally roll out of his eyes is the sympathy and understanding in the assistant tour guide's voice.
"Eye problem?" the guide asks.
"Yes," he chokes back.
In Zimbabwe, after witnessing the thunder of the Victoria Falls and as he is walking back to his hotel, he notices a local boy carrying a big pot containing an orchid. The boy is struggling, but gracefully, trying to hide it, and the man offers to help him carry it. The boy is going home and both of them lift opposite ends of the pot, walking down streets with neat square houses.
When they arrive, his mother greets them both. She offers to make lunch and the man relishes the earthiness of the traditional flavors. As they sit at the table, he steals glances at the woman, and from what he can make out from his poor vision, he sees that her chin is pointed, her hair is short and coily and the lashes that gilded her eyes were long. He offers to make a few healthy adjustments to the orchid's soil, bringing out his garden fork, and the woman laughs.
They make love two months later, after he comes back from home affairs to renew his stay in the country. It is not his first time having sex, but it reminds him of it, of the thrill and the anxiety. Afterwards they lie holding each other, and he tells her, heart beating, of his illness. She tells him she already knew and that it didn't change anything. She asks him to stay with her. He tells her to come away with him, her and her son.
He still has to visit Copacabanna beach in Brazil. They go together, as a family of three. They go at sunset, when the beach has fewer people. The boy wanders away to play with other children. The man wades in the clear waters with the woman and then kneels in the water. He can't see her very clearly but he pleads with his eyes to see her and, magically, mysteriously, they open up, only for that moment. She kneels down with him in the water and he can see each and every detail as she smiles and kisses his forehead, her face awash with the light of the setting sun. Then, as his eyes close up and, finally, plunge him into a complete and impenetrable darkness, the man sighs a sigh of accomplishment.
| Eric sat in the passenger seat of his friend Darrel's Jeep. He had stopped driving himself weeks ago when he pulled out in front of a car he should have seen.
He watched the pine trees glide by in a blur of green as the Jeep sped down the highway. They had been driving for the past six hours toward their destination. There hadn't been much conversation during the drive, but neither man minded that much.
Darrel turned the Jeep down a small dirt road. A recent rain had washed out most of the road and it became a sluggish process of creeping around large holes in the ground and pits of mud.
"Almost there," Darrel said steering around a rut that threatened to break the axle.
Eric nodded and kept his eyes open. He didn't want to miss a second of anything. His eyes darted from tree to rock then to a small bird that took flight. He tried to remember every detail, every flash of green and smudge of brown. His vision had deteriorated to the point where it was like looking through a drinking straw.
The trail ended in a small clearing large enough for a car to turn around in. Darrel threw the car in park and hopped out. He grabbed their packs out of the back and met Eric at his door.
"Ready?"
Eric nodded, stepped out of the vehicle and threw his pack over his shoulders. The small hiking trail was slowly being overtaken by nature. Thick roots spread across the trail threatening to trip Eric with every step he took. After a few stumbles the frustration began to build. He swallowed tears and shook his head angrily.
"It's all good man, here," Darrel said tying a rope around his waist then connecting it to the strap of Eric's backpack. Eric grabbed the back of Darrel's pack and they set out again.
"How much time do we have?" Eric asked.
"Enough, we'll get there."
Sweat rolled down Eric's face as the sun's rays snuck through the canopy above.
*How could I have taken all of this for granted?*
A tear rolled down his cheek and he angrily swept it away. Regardless of how long he'd known Darrel he didn't want to cry in front of the man.
The trail began a steady incline and the forest began to fade behind them as they hiked higher up the mountain. The sun was beginning to it's descent as the men struggled.
"We're not going to make it," Eric said squinting at the dying light.
"Yes we will!" Darrel said stubbornly placing one foot in front of the other.
Both men were breathing heavily, sweat ran down in their bodies in thick rivulets.
"Only a few more feet Eric!" Darrel said triumphantly as he pulled himself up onto a large flat rock that created a shelf on the side of the mountain. He extended a hand and pulled Eric the rest of the way up. They collapsed onto the rock and looked out over the sea of green. The base of the sun had just hit the top of the trees.
"Thank you Darrel."
Tears rolled freely down Eric's cheeks as he watched the sun set for the final time.
---
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories! | 2017-01-04T06:12:01 | 2017-01-04T05:42:31 | 73 | 34 |
[WP] Retell a well known story. Make me side with the villain/antagonist.
The more unsympathetic they are in the original, the better. | I watched our glorious leader with disdain, bumbling old fool. Once again he chose to stay in his palace and play with his toys. I suppose in reality that was the smartest option, leave the governing of the sultanate to me. Still with no male heir and his daughter unwilling to marry a succession crisis seemed inevitable, one that may very well precede or cause his death if he didn't begin to act as a king.
I rubbed my head in frustration as I listened to the reports from the advisors. The soldiers keeping our borders safe from our enemies in the north and south were going to rebel if we didn't deliver their wages soon. Unfortunately most of the recent taxes had gone towards paying for the extravagant banquets to impress suitors, unsuccessful suitors at that. Many might fancy ours one of the wealthiest kingdoms in the land but it was mostly a facade, the years of incompetent leadership had taken their toll. A corrupt and buffoonish city guard never seemed to ever actually catch any criminals, the crime driving away sorely needed commerce.
"What a pack of idiots" my feather companion announced as we walked towards my private chambers. "If I have to listen to ONE MORE spiel about how this and that is the wrath of Allah for that stupid princess refusing to marry, I'm gonna lose it!" "Quiet Iago" I cautioned glancing around the hallways, knowing if anyone had heard my loud-mouthed pet it'd be my head, if there was one group with more power than the Royal Vizier it was surely the imams, and the far away but powerful caliph.
I sat staring at the night sky from my private quarters, filled with pagan items that would surely find my beheaded as a heretic if anyone saw them. I heard a faraway growl followed by a girlish scream. Another failed suitor I thought as I rolled my eyes. *Think Jafar think* I desperately searched for the answer. Then it hit me, why was I trying so hard to lead this camel to water? Perhaps if no worthy suitor could be found from outside the sultanate, one could be found within the city, perhaps a trusted vizier already familiar with the administration of the realm. If that failed though I'd need something else, if the answer refused to lie in logic, perhaps it could lie with magic. From my time as an apprentice I knew of a magic like no other, but to find it I'd need a very special gem. | "What the hell are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm watching them."
"Why?"
"Why not."
"You could've at least given them clothes."
"Look, I didn't have time okay, and anyway they won't even notice."
"Did you create them blind?"
"What? When did I do that."
"Last time, remember, they were literally blind and found their way by tasting the air, and I have tasted that air. It is the worst thing I have ever done. Why did you even make me do that?"
"You needed a lesson."
"I ate the last cookie, how was I supposed to know you were keeping it for yourself? Forget about that why won't they notice."
"Oh I banned them eating from the tree."
"Wait, what? How are they supposed to feel and decide anything if they don't eat it."
"They'll have to take my word for it."
The devil shook his head, "I need a beer."
"I banned that too,"
He growled, "fine I'll just use some po-"
"That's also not allowed."
"You know what? I don't have to take this. Fuck you God, fuck this too bright place, and your stupid rules. I'm out." Then he strolled out of the room.
"Fine, do what you want. Hmm, oh I now have the perfect scapegoat for my plans." | 2016-02-02T14:08:43 | 2016-02-02T12:21:47 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You, 16 years old, wake up and head downstairs for breakfast before school. You’re eating cereal when you see the Missing Kid poster on the milk carton. It’s you. Date missing: 10 years ago. | My alarm screamed to the high heavens, doing it’s very best. It must get a sick sense of smug satisfaction when it wakes me. I throw myself into the shower, and somewhere between the lather and rinse cycle I realize it’s Thursday. I *hate* Thursday. It’s a lot like Tuesday, in terms of schedule, but I’m more exhausted, and ready for the weekend. I must sit through two hours of English, starting at 6:45, and I could honestly care less about my writing.
“Don’t use ‘Swifties’ in dialogue!” The teacher ejaculated adverbingly. *Kill me now.*
So, very unlike an oyster, I moved about - dressing myself, packing my backpack, and walking downstairs. Scrambled eggs, milk, and bacon awaited me at the table. Someone loves me, and it’s my mom. She *understands* Thursdays; I would like to think she’s been through a few in her lifetime.
I didn’t see her in the kitchen; instead I made my way to the table. The room was dark, save for the sole light of the chandelier. I sat down, tore open the carton of milk, and devoured the meaty, fleshy strips of bacon. I glanced at the milk carton. On the front – a picture of a lost child, missing for ten years.
It was a picture of me.
I did a double take, it couldn’t be me, how was that possible? It must be a kid that looked like me.
“Mom, are you there?” I said. I heard a muffled yell from upstairs, and footsteps.
I looked at the picture again, my heart racing. I was dressed in my blue overalls and was wearing my Spiderman shirt. I had a goofy smile, freckles, and was missing two front teeth. I don’t understand. I don’t remember much from my childhood, hardly anything, so I don’t remember this moment at all.
“Mom, can you take a look at this?” I said, as my mother walked into the room. She was wrapped in a towel and had just stepped out of the shower.
I saw her study the picture for a moment, before her eyes grew wide in recognition.
“Honey, you know that’s not you.” She said
“Yeah, who is it then?” I said, my voice rising.
“Take a deep breath, there’s no reason to get angry.” My mother said.
“Really? Because I think I’m on a missing poster of a milk carton.” I said. I was *very* angry.
My mother sat in the chair beside me and put her hands around my arm. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she began to rock back and forth.
“That’s your brother. Your twin brother.” She finally said.
“If I had a twin brother, why don’t I remember him?” I asked.
“The doctor’s called it dissociative amnesia. We were playing at the park, down on 4th street, and…” she trailed off, shaking her head.
Memories started flashing of my childhood, memories I’d had before but never fully understood. A hand playing cars with me that looked just like mine. Laughter that sounded just like mine. The double bunk bed. A name –
“Peter” I mumbled, and my mother nodded.
I sat there for a long time. The yellow school bus bellowed down the street, but I didn’t care. I felt hollow, like I had discovered an empty space in my soul. A space I now wanted to fill with memories of my brother. I could have had a friend all these years. We could have played together, done homework together, rode the bus together. We could have gone on double dates with the cute twins from 4th period history. All this – gone.
“Why keep this a secret?” I asked my mother.
“The doctor’s said it might be traumatic to remember, and if you never found out, well – ignorance is bliss.” She said. “I’m sorry, we never should have kept this from you.”
My mother smiled a sad smile. “I have pictures of the two of you, would you like to see them?”
I nodded my head. A lump formed in the bottom of my throat, and I couldn’t speak. I didn’t want to. My mother went upstairs and returned in a moment with a large scrapbook. She kissed my forehead, left the book on the table.
“Take as much time as you need. I’ll make you some more bacon and call the school.”
I held the scrapbook tight. The front cover had the same picture as the milk carton, except it showed the other half. Standing next to Peter, wearing the same outfit and a dorky grin, was me.
***
​
r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | I sit back up in the chair with my head throbbing, the loud TV in the background is NOT helping. I read the milk carton again. I couldn't believe my eyes, it's actually me. But I'm right here, and I'm not lost what is going on? Confused, I rush to google myself but I can't find anything on my name. Actually, no results come up at all. I always thought my name was pretty unique but I didn't think I wasn't going to find anything about me. My school must have me on some sort of list online, some site I signed up on must have leaked something about my name but nothing. I go to call my mother downstairs to see what she thinks.
"MOM! You need to come see this." I yell.
I waited about 1 minute with no response.
"Mom? Are you coming down?"
She doesn't say anything at all as she starts walking down the stairs. When she gets to the bottom she heads toward the kitchen to make some coffee. She starts heading toward me and I go to grab the milk carton to show her, and as soon as I grab it she screams. Startled, I drop the carton on the floor.
"Wow mom, what was that for?" I ask angrily and confused at the same time.
Seemingly ignoring me she walks towards the front door and yells "OK, WHO IS THERE? STOP MESSING AROUND THIS ISN'T FUNNY." I ask her what she is going on about and she runs straight back into the kitchen and grabs a knife. I go run behind the kitchen wall next to the front door. Does she not see me? What is she going to do with the knife? Has she gone insane? These are the thoughts I'm thinking in my head as my mother stands in the kitchen with a knife, trembling in fear. Shit, I think I hear the bus. Maybe she is just pulling a cruel prank on me and I'm falling for it, pretty messed up to get a knife involved in a prank. I grab my bag and bolt out the door toward the bus as it starts leaving my house. The bus stops just before the train tracks to check for a train. I run up to the door and start walking up the steps. The bus driver looks confused and peers down at the stairs. What is he doing? Can no one see me? I go sit in an empty seat. The bus driver stops at the next stop and 5 kids walk onto the bus and go sit in empty seats, the last guy comes towards my seat and says "Hey, sup dude mind if I sit here?" It turns out to be my friend who I've known since 3th grade. I say "Sure, I have to tell you something."
"What?" He asks.
"Honestly, I'm kinda freaked out right now my mom and maybe even the bus driver are pretending that they can't see me or something. My own mother pulled a knife on me. I ran to the bus afterwards; I have no idea what is going on."
"Oh, so I can't sit here? Well ok then." He says.
"Wait what? I didn't say that. Come back!"
He walks away and goes and sits in another seat. I begin to freak out, no one can see or hear me now. I start yelling and screaming and no one seems to acknowledge me. The bus driver enters onto the highway. Crying and screaming hysterically I run towards the back of the bus and open the back door and jump onto the pavement.
My vision goes away, I can't see anything.
I wake up in a chair and my head is throbbing. I look forward, there is a TV playing in the background and carton of milk on the table with my face on it. Date Missing: 11 years ago.
I start laughing hysterically. What is going on? This can't be happening. Have I already done this 10 times? | 2018-11-08T21:07:19 | 2018-11-08T20:24:37 | 306 | 51 |
[WP] You've saved the lives of thousands. You're the reason names and dates aren't associated with horrendous disasters. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you're an uncatchable serial killer with inscrutable motives. | When the first letter arrived on my doormat I ignored it. The name embossed on the heavy pearl white card didn't mean anything to me so who would pay any attention? One month later I saw the name again on the news ticker tape. “Carl Droveson named as pilot who crashed onto Highway 33 killing 30”
The next day another letter arrived. The same immaculate penmanship on the envelope and inside another name carved into the gleaming, rigid surface. Winona Culldown. This time I paid a little more attention and found her online. Mother of three; part time pharmacy assistant; loved karaoke with the girls and keen chef, she had even tried out for Masterchef. Two weeks later she was dead and had taken 48 people with her when the tenement she lived in burnt down due to the gas explosion from a post-drinking attempt to cook a midnight snack for herself.
And the next day there was another shimmering card. Jared Zahn. Architect and soon to be married. I had no idea what he was going to do but somehow he would cause the deaths of dozens of people and the only people who knew were me and the sender of the letter. I followed Jared around for almost a week before I confronted him about what I suspected would happen. No, what I knew would happen. Predictably he just laughed at me.
When the jetty he had built at his lake-front home gave way under the weight of his wedding guests 22 people were plunged under the ice.
It's been 5 years now and every other letter that has landed on my doorstep has led me to take someone's life because I couldn't keep going knowing that I hadn't done something to prevent whatever tragedy was about to happen. I've had to move around a lot as the police have become more and more skilled in tracking my online research, but no matter where I find myself the perfectly written envelopes always arrive at my door from wherever it is they come. Those clean, crisp white cards with only a name. Today that name is Nathan Gleik and I am dumbfounded. Nathan is 53; a paraplegic living in a tiny cottage way outside of the smallest town you can imagine and from what I have learned he has had just two visitors a day for the last 10 years. His carer and the newspaper boy who also drops off his mail. I have no idea how but this man will cause the deaths of enough people to decimate his hometown.
I wait until night falls and his carer heads home. Eventually the light goes out in his bedroom and I give him time to fall asleep. It’s always easier to do it as they sleep. That and the sharpness of my knife are the only calling cards I have for the police to identify me by. After years of practice I manage to easily and quietly enter his home. I ever so slowly push the bedroom door open to prevent any creaking and scan the space. Nathan is sat bolt upright in bed with a pen in his hand writing by the moonlight coming in his window. The same moonlight that is reflecting off a stack of pearl white cards on his bedside table.
“I can't stand what I made you all do any longer. Please. End it”
I do.
| It's said that death is the great equalizer. And if that's so, then call me Death.
I was granted this power long ago by the spirits of the dead, and for a time, I was terrified to use it. Getting to decide who lives and dies was a responsibility that only those with the highest morals would have. The responsibility that only a god should wield.
Then again, even God in the Bible killed people he didn't like.
The first death was a test in a rise of mounting anger. Furious with humanity for hating, for fighting, for killing, I set my sights on one of the world's powerful leaders. Hating them for hoarding so much while others had so little, laughing while the chaos of the hierarchy below sowed the seeds of their own destruction.
Shortly after the the first dictator was struck down by my own force of will, the news outlets were flooded. One of the top most wealthy and corrupt people in the world, who others had feared and was untouchable, was gone. Fallen from the tower of privilege that they had built for themselves, confident that no one could reach them.
Except death.
Feeling a rush enter my mind, a realization at the potential of my power and what I could change, I looked up whoever I could think of. Those who halted the progress of others, those who oppressed other humans for their own gain, those who tried to restrict the use of resources while spending their own wealth extravagantly.
One by one, they fell from their position of the gods they assumed they were. Crumbling to dust that they had built on the fractured hopes and shattered dreams of others.
Any potential threat of war, any shred of evil, I struck them down. Sadly I couldn't control their actions before they died—the things I would do with such a power—but I could cause them to drop dead at the drop of a hat, and choose their method of death.
A heart attack was preferable.
Under my watch, there was no more war. No more fear. No more suffering. At least, aside from those who deserved it.
God refused to answer the prayers of the populace. I swept in to respond instead. | 2019-04-03T08:28:04 | 2019-04-03T06:06:49 | 61 | 12 |
[WP]People age until they reach 18, and then stop aging until they meet their soulmates, so they can grow old together. Since 18,you've been in your relationship for 5 years and you both realize that you haven't aged a day.
Make me cry. | I couldn't believe it. I *wouldn't* believe it. I felt around my face, gazing in the mirror for anything unfamiliar, anything that would signify a change over time.
The fact remained true, despite my disbelief - I hadn't aged a bit since meeting her.
And I knew that she hadn't either. She had the same blue eyes, the same rounded cheeks and pointy nose, the same crooked teeth and the same freckles. Her hair hadn't even grown. It was the same shoulder-length, curly brown mess that she always spent too much of her mornings trying to comb because she wanted to look her best and didn't know she was already perfect.
And now I would have to be the one to bring it up - the unavoidable but unacceptable truth. Surely she had noticed it too, and just didn't want to say anything. It would have to be said one day, though, maybe many years down the road, as we stretched ourselves thin and tip-toed across the bare fibers of our tattered relationship. Then the fibers would break beneath us and we'd fall, with no ground to stand on, alone in the void until we hit rock bottom or someone caught us...
I shook my head, still in front of the mirror. *No.* I wasn't willing to let that happen to us. It had to be said now, while we had some dignity left in us, though it would not hurt any less. I didn't want to leave her, but what choice did I have? The rules were clear. You only aged once you found your soul mate. We weren't aging. There was nothing for it but to turn the sinking ship around.
So I waited until she got home that night and said the words.
"I think we need to talk."
She simply said: "I know."
We sat down on the couch together, snuggled close despite the circumstances because that's the only way we knew to sit together anymore. I looked into her blue eyes and confused face and swallowed my stomach, which had just leapt into my throat. I opened my mouth to speak.
"I'm not your soulmate," she said. I choked on my words, which had been the exact same.
"W-what do you mean?" I found myself asking as I kicked myself inside. Of course I was too cowardly to admit feeling the same, of course I'd let her feel responsible. I resolved to say something to the effect of "Oh, yes, I know what you mean," once she explained so she didn't have to feel like the villain.
"We haven't aged a minute since we met," she said. She was - *is she smiling?* I thought.
"Oh - yeah - " I fumbled for words. "I mean, I noticed that too, earlier. Maybe we're just slow agers?" My resolve to end things quickly earlier was suddenly slipping away as I wanted nothing more than to hold on to her for just a little longer.
She shook her head, definitely grinning now. "I don't think so." She shifted her position on the couch and looked me right in the eyes, her smile fading to confusion. "What's the matter? Why are you sad?"
I was flabbergasted. "Well - " I searched for words. "Well, maybe it's because I thought I loved you!" I spat it out and the sentence hung heavy in the air between us.
She just blinked slowly. "You don't love me?"
I was starting to get the feeling we weren't on the same page at all here. "Neither of us has aged in the past five years. If we were in love, wouldn't we be aging?"
Comprehension dawned on her face, and she began to laugh. There wasn't a trace of the sadness or desperation I was expecting in that laugh - just mirth and a little bit of mockery.
"You're going to have to explain something to me," I said in a hard tone, pulling away from her. She stifled herself and looked at me through teary eyes.
"Don't you get it?" she asked. "I've been terrified for years, ever since I realized I wanted to spend forever with you. I was afraid I'd lose you as soon as I found you." I still wasn't getting it, so she went on. "Okay, so maybe we're not soulmates. But we're still in love, aren't we? Isn't that something *we* chose?"
I nodded slowly.
"I was afraid you'd be my soulmate," she said, "and now the clock would start running out. But you're not my soulmate, and I'm not your soulmate, and now we have as long as we want." She leaned in towards me, and we kissed.
A whisper of a doubt lingered in the back of my mind, but I couldn't hear it over the roar of the blood pounding through my head as I looked at her beaming face, and I asked an entirely different question than I'd intended that evening.
“Look, this is spur of the moment, and I don't have a ring or anything, but – if you won't be my soulmate, will you still be mine?”
She smiled wider than ever before. | "How are you and Celine?"
"Hm?"
"You and Celine. How are you doing."
I looked over at Scotty. He was leaning back in his chair, his thumbs fumbling over an Xbox controller.
"We're great! Went and watched the game last week. She caught a ball and got on the Jumbotron. Really nifty stuff." I flashed him a grin and a big thumbs-up. Looking briefly from his game, he smirked and rolled his eyes.
"I'll never understand baseball. Such a droll sport," he mumbled. He began tapping on the controller feverishly, the clicks maddening, before the screen went black with the words 'WASTED' sprawling across the center. With a sigh, he leaned back farther and ran his hand through his hair.
He was an attractive guy, I suppose; black hair, thick beard, something around 24-25; you can't always know. I suppose he was still 18, technically, but had been around for 25 years. He always joked that I never aged, but Celine and I had been together for 5 years; 'women just age differently,' I would tell him. Whatever the case, we'd known each other since the fourth grade. We were each others' assigned partners, the district's way of figuring out soulmates', though unfortunately for them, they hadn't accounted for homosexuality. We'd been spending more and more time together the last 5 years and had grown all the closer. Guess he'd be the closest thing to having a brother.
Scotty tossed his controller to the bean bag and came to where I was sitting. "Whatcha workin' on, Kat?" He touched my screen.
"Hey! Don't touch that! C'mon, that's taboo number one." He touched it again. "Oh, you ass. Whatever. I'm working on a webpage for Celine. Just something for our five year anniversary." Scotty straightened and collapsed on the couch.
"How adorable," he replied, sounding a little wounded. "Whatever gets you girls going."
Silence fell between us save for the slow tapping of my fingers on the keyboard. The webpage wasn't anything fancy, just stuff that she would love and go crazy over. I felt my cheeks get a little warm at the thought; oh, how I did love her. Sometimes we fought and sometimes things weren't always great, but she was my soulmate. You do what you gotta do.
"Hey, Kat," Scotty said. His voice was unnaturally quiet. I turned in my chair.
"What's up?"
"When are y'all tying the knot?" he asked. He scratched his chin absent-mindedly, looking me earnestly in the eye.
"Oh. We haven't figured it out just yet. She said she's gotta figure some things out, talk to her parents, her brothers... She told me she'll let me know when she can!" I grinned at him. "Women, right?"
"Yeah, haha, women." He returned my grin, though - there was something not quite right about it. "So, Katelyn, when do you think it'll happen?"
"I dunno. She told me that four months ago or something. I want it to happen ASAP but, eh... just kind of letting her do her thing. Hopefully soon though!" I shrugged and turned back to the computer screen.
"Kat..." Scotty began. His voice suddenly sounded choked and I turned around immediately. But, he was already on his feet and heading to the door.
"Scotty! Where're you going?" I breathed. I jumped up out of my chair. This was so weird, so random - he never acted like this. On our feet, we were suddenly so close I could see the water welling in his eyes.
"I've gotta go," he mumbled. The water faded away.
"Where're you going?" I asked quizzically. He turned from me and headed to the door. With one gentle swoop, he opened the door and walked into the doorway.
"I'm going to my 23rd birthday party," he said. Then he was gone. | 2015-06-08T11:01:55 | 2015-06-08T10:38:03 | 137 | 13 |
[WP] "So you're saying that these "humans" have 30 colonies in their solar system?" "Yes, and increasing. They don't seem to have the need to colonize habitable planets, they just can colonize these dead planets and moons without a problem." | "This is 99942 Apophis, do you copy?" Greta waited for a response, and then hit the button again. "Repeat, this is 99942 Apophis, do you copy?"
This time, a response came through. *Thank god.* "99942 Apophis, this is Diaspora High Command Mars, we read you."
"High Command, reporting another seven vessels just dropped in to LEO and are heading towards Earth. Do we engage?"
She waited for a response. 99942 Apophis, an asteroid once believed to spell doom for Earth, was now the best strike platform they had. Forty-two Minotaur class gunners were stuck to its surface, strung together to form a single base. *Let this be the one...*
A response finally came though. "Negative, Apophis. The time isn't right. Keep observing. Over."
Greta resisted the urge to kick the console. "Understood, High Command."
Brent put a hand on her shoulder, almost making her jump out of her seat - which was always dramatic when it happened in zero gravity. "Don't worry. We'll get it back."
She didn't need to ask what he meant. The answer was right in front of them - the giant blue orb that was Earth. "Yeah...I'm just tired of making the people back home wait."
"Me too, hon. Me too. Take fifteen - I'll take the comms from here."
Knowing she could use the break, she unstrapped from her seat, gave him a quick kiss, and floated away.
---
Five years. Five years ago, in 2079, they'd appeared in the Solar System. They called themselves the Egwiphohn, which roughly translated to Empire, and like all Empires, they were looking to expand.
It hadn't been much of a war, not really. Earth had colonies all across the solar system, but was still relying on rail guns and chemical rockets. The Egwiphohn had warp drives and plasma rifles, their ground crews had twenty-foot tall walking weapon platforms that could literally step on tanks. Six months, and Earth had fallen.
And then the Egwiphohn had ignored the colonies. They'd demanded fealty from them, sure, but when the colonies - now calling themselves the Diaspora - collectively told the Empire they'd rather go down fighting, the Empire had done...nothing.
After a few months, watching the Empire from above, they'd finally figured it out. This massive collective of planets, twenty-seven different species...and not a one of them had figured out how to make sustainable colonies outside a habitable world. The fact that these colonies weren't going to just starve out, the fact that these colonies were working and growing and building...was completely alien to them.
So they'd been biding their time, using old radio communications the Egwiphohn couldn't detect. Building. Preparing.
Getting ready to take back their world.
---
Things were getting worse planetside, that was the real problem. Humans were also proving remarkably difficult to pacify. Greta got the feeling that most other worlds had fallen in line within a year, maybe two tops.
Five years later, and there was still an active resistance on Earth. They sent messages to the Diaspora when they could, and the Diaspora provided what information it had...but exchange of supplies was currently beyond them.
And still, just like today, more and more ships arrived. More occupiers, bureaucrats, oppressors. Even residents, tourists were starting to show up. It made her sick. Humans had become second class citizens on their own world.
"Penny for your thoughts? Unless they're about how screwed we are, because those thoughts I know too well." Jian gave her one of his roguish grins.
She sighed. "Then no penny for me."
"Another ship arrived?"
"Seven, Jian. Seven more ships and we did nothing."
He shrugged. "We're not ready for a full engagement, not yet. They still massively out-tech us. Until we can win the numbers game..."
She held up a hand. "I know, I know. But...they're getting more numbers too. We have to do *something* or we'll lose that edge."
"We are. I just got word - we've got a new base. Europa. With that much extra water, we'll be able to expand even further."
That, at least, was good news. She was about to say that when the alarms started going off. "Everyone get to the nearest window now," Brent's voice came over the intercom. "You're going to want to see this."
Greta and Jian glanced at each other, then floated over to the nearest window. There it was. A new Egwiphohn ship had just dropped out of warp. It was massive - the size of an entire city. Greta heard Jian swear in Mandarin. She didn't know what it meant, but it sounded foul.
"We just got word from Diaspora High Command. Six of them, all heading to land. Everyone get to your gunship. It's now or never, boys and girls - if any of those things land, we might never get the planet back."
Fear and adrenaline coursing through them, Greta and Jian each headed towards their respective ships. It was time for the Egwiphohn to realize how badly they'd underestimated the colonies.
Live or die, they were going to make them pay. It was time for the first Solar War to begin.
---
more at /r/Hydrael_Writes
| "Impossible," the Malphortnan representative rumbled from deep within his petrified extrinsic plates, "There is no species known that could possibly survive in such varied environments without terraforming on a scale unknown to the galaxy. These humans are barely a ten of ten-years from their first exposure to the void, there is no way!" The rumbling mass seemed to settle, and the Malphortnan settled back deep within the hot mineral bath required to sustain him in the station environment.
"It's not necessarily so unimaginable as that," the universal translators relaying his words to each of the galactic diplomats failed to do justice to what he viewed as the rich cultured tones of his system aristocracy, but also saved those same representatives from being susceptible to the rattling screech most of them would have registered it as.
The Faltoxian were a thin boned predatory race whose evolutionary pathways had once led them through something not unlike the birds of prey common on earth. Their representative stood about half a meter at the crest of his head, but his feathered arms had a wingspan nearly twice his height; while the Faltoxian no longer flew, the speed at which their gaze could flick around the room carried much of the bearing of those old predators as he stared down his fellow diplomats. Finally his chest puffed and his screeching was again captured and translated, "We all survive here on this station, though the expenditures our races have made to realize that reality are stark. Is it so impossible to believe humans could do the same?"
There was a delay after the Faltoxian's words as the representatives chewed on his point. This was quite literal in at least one case, as the jaws of an Aneuvian masticated from the moment they broke out of their egg to the moment their third heart finally ceased to beat. With a tremendous effort of will the Aneuvian rapped a great fist upon the specially reinforced section of the table behind which he sat; normally no self respecting Aneuvian would move so fast, but those were the sacrifices a diplomat had to make.
Aneuvian speech had taken the galaxy some time to come to terms with, and the deliberate sloth pace the Aneuvians took in any effort at communication with them had driven long forgotten federation diplomats insane for a ten of ten ten-years. In the space of that time, the collective words of the Aneuvian race to their federation fellows could have been bound up in a particularly thin children's book. It was with great shame that the Aneuvian representative added to such a vile tradition - but it was necessary.
"Look at temperature of colonies. Gas contents. No terraforming, or terrible. Humans robust."
Thirteen words was practically the longest single speech in Aneuvian history to an outsider. Upon their integration to the Galactic Federation their first leader had said only "harmony" before remaining silent for three ten-years. The shock of his speech settled upon the diplomats far quicker than the impact of his words, but eventually they had no sense but to recognize the truth conveyed in them.
The human colonies challenged common scientific literacy of the federation. No known race could have survived at all in such varied environs. The average temperature extremes between their colony on the second major rock from the sun, and upon a large moon of the sixth major rock would have been reckoned by human sciences as nearly 700 degrees Kelvin, a sum so vast as to be unimaginable for any of the diplomats on station. Some of them, like the Malphortnan representative, required a significantly different temperature to survive, and adaptations were made to allow it - but they were so prohibitively expensive no colony could possibly have been set up with such exceptions. Did these humans survive on nothing more than air and water?
The screeching voice of the Faltoxian summed up the shifting mood within the chamber quite nicely, "Better an ally, these humans, than an enemy. A peace delegation must be sent before they find us. Best we dictate terms while we can."
The undercurrent of fear might have seemed out of place to any human who could have served as a fly on the wall for such a meeting. How could beings so clearly advanced and powerful fear a handful of monkeys scratching a harsh life out of an unforgiving solar system? The answer might have slowly come to that human though, as their tribes had always excelled at these things throughout their racial history.
Why let your neighbors keep the use of a nicer piece of land? | 2017-12-07T04:32:37 | 2017-12-07T04:26:51 | 343 | 49 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice; the first time is when they pass away, and the second time is when they're forgotten. You're the True Reaper, and today, you've reaped someone who hasn't passed through your little brother, the Grim Reaper. | I thought I had seen it all. I've been been here ever since the first human died. I'm the older brother, sure, but most only know of my little brother, the Grim Reaper. Because those that come to me are erased from the time itself.
I've had to erase entire families, cities, hell, even entire civilizations. I've done it all in cold blood and with no emotion. And yet, that day I felt an emotion that I hadn't felt in a long time: fear.
I remember when I first stepped into that place. It was a large bunker near the North Pole, built during the Cold War. Like all of the corpses and ghosts of the people that I erased, no one knew about my target. They forgot about him or her.
I initially thought that I had missed someone over there. The first time my reaping instincts tingled over there, I cursed myself. I clearly remembered walking around on the concrete floor, reaping the dead who were killed in a nuclear blast when one of nukes was accidentally triggered. Who did I miss? I shrugged. It didn't matter anyway. I had a job to do.
The place that I had to go to was an old nuclear silo that was abandoned during the Cold War. No one knew of its existence, because it was so old that the arctic ice had frozen over its entrance, covering it up, and that all of the people who planned and worked on it were already reaped by me.
Getting in was easy. I teleported into one of the storage rooms, and next to the crumbling concrete walls found myself looking straight at a rusty metal door that I clearly remembered didn't exist there, on a standing part of the concrete wall that I *also* clearly remembered didn't exist there. At first I blamed my age, thinking that I probably started getting dementia. Then my curiosity got the better of my confusion and caution when the reaping sense told me to go straight through the door. I opened it with a gentle push.
A bright blue light and a human silhouette greeted me. A number of questions assaulted my mind as I waited for my eyes to adjust to the light. *Why was there light? Wasn't the entire silo's lighting destroyed by the nuclear explosion? Why was the person standing? Why is the person's arms stretched to the side, as if lounging on a couch? Why are there shadows of wires sticking ou-*
My eyes widened in disbelief as I looked at the horror in front of me. It wasn't a human at all I was looking at. Rather, it was *parts* of a human set on miniature platforms that held the pieces into the form of a human. Each of the body parts were cut open and splayed apart (in the case of the skull, sawed open to access the brain) to have wires and thin hoses of fluid sticking into the flesh and tissue. The torso was also cut open, the abs cut away to reveal each organ spliced with the same mix of wires and hoses interconnecting each other, held in place with spikes stabbed into them hooked onto the vertical platform holding it in place. In morbid curiosity I watched some of the wires crackling with electricity as the flesh constantly jumped and thrashed around as it was zapped. The head was even more gruesome, with a constant look of agony on the face, the eyes still in their sockets and the eyelids ripped away. The eyes turned to look at me, and I shuddered. It was still *alive* after all this time. The reaping sense screamed at me now to reap what I just saw. I understood why the reaping sense led me to it. After the explosion, after being forgotten, sustained by whatever machinery tortured it. I understood why my brother didn't reap its "life", if it could still be called living.
I looked it in the eyes, and whispered, "I'm sorry." Tears started to stream from both my face and the person's. "I'm sorry that even I forgot about you." I raised my reaping blade. "I'll make sure that you don't have to suffer ever again."
First story on r/writingprompts, criticism accepted! | In all my existence, I had never seen such loneliness. Nor such self-sufficiency.
The gentleman I had come to reap lived beyond off-grid. There were no other communities around for at least a thousand square miles, and there was no road leading to his compound. A strong, fast-flowing river weaved behind a small house that I assumed was his main living quarters, and several outbuildings speckled a landscape of crop fields ranging from corn to potatoes to blueberries.
I approached the front porch of the small house and could see there a well-worn rocking chair, a collapsible camp table with some carving tools and wood shavings upon it, and a rugged mat at the foot of the front door that said nothing, had only the faded image of a sunset.
I could hear no signs of industry, only the wind in the trees, the muted roar of the river, and the call of birds echoing against the far off mountainside. I stood for a time, waiting patiently, but eventually grew tired and took to the rocking chair. I rocked slowly back and forth, enjoying the rhythmic creaking of the wood as it rolled across the planks of the porch. After a while, I was beginning to forget why I had come, and then I heard a distant whistling, a happy tune that suggested a long days work finally completed.
I am not completely sure why, but even as I heard the crunching of footsteps on the gravel path beyond the porch I still did not rise from the rocking chair. I continued to move, slowly back and forth, waiting expectantly for my reaping to come around the corner, that all too familiar look of dismay crawling across a once smiling and happy face.
What most don’t understand is that after you have met my brother, the Grim Reaper, you do not leave this plane. You remain as a shadow, and you continue to walk among the living but can not be seen by them. You still exist, however, it is merely as a whisper, a playful breeze, a trick of the light... A memory. When the last knowledge of you is finally snuffed out of the hearts and minds of the living, it is then that I come for you, to send you to the next plane.
When finally a man came around the corner of the house and saw me seated there, he was neither shocked nor surprised, and he did not even stop walking. He took the steps to the porch with a calm smile upon his face and came to stand at my side, staring out at the valley beyond the fields, taking in the view of serenity that had been my distraction for the last hour or more.
“Sure is lovely, isn’t it,” he remarked.
I studied the man, he was old but still spry. His hair was white but his skin was young. His hands were strong and worn but his body was slight and fit.
This was no whisper, no breeze, no shadow. This was a living man. A man who had not yet met my brother. A man who had been completely forgotten by the world, and could not be happier about it.
I decided to stay a while.
He obliged me. | 2018-05-12T16:52:04 | 2018-05-12T16:00:41 | 200 | 15 |
[WP] You're the Grim Reaper. When you approach dying people you see a timer and cause of death in text above them, and your x-ray vision always confirms their illnesses. Today seemed normal but the text above the person in front of you says "Death: Cancer, 9 seconds." Problem is that he is healthy. | This shouldn't be happening. I watched as the number counted down. Part of me was horrified; he was completely healthy, there were no signs of any illness. Yet part of me was intrigued. I wanted to see what would happen. Oftentimes we were given more warning when someone died of something like an aneurism or heart attack. We were usually given way more time for cancer, too. So given nine seconds, and a death to cancer? This doesn't make sense.
I unfroze time for one second. Inside I watched black tendrils wrap around one of his kidneys. This guy was thirty-two, an analyst, a healthy dad of two. These tendrils were not normal.
Two more seconds. The tendrils encompassed his kidney in the first. In the second, tumors started to bud and grow.
"Reaper. You have other appointments you must address." One of my associates whispered in my ear.
"Not now." I said. "I am unsure what's happening here. It is necessary to investigate."
"Understood." And he disappeared.
I positioned myself in the empty seat next to the man. He would not see me in any case, but I figured I might as well stay discreet. On the occasion I got too excited, sometimes my form would emanate waves of intimidation, making the room grow cold and fill humans with unease.
Two more seconds. Tumors spread in his kidney and metastasized out; they spread into the rest of his torso and up into his lungs and heart, all through his lymphatic system. In the next second, I watched his blood cells, both red and white, atrophy before my eyes. His hand fluttered down to his kidney, and in the eighth second he collapsed out of his chair, clutching the outside of where his kidney was.
In the final second, his heart stopped beating. The muscle had atrophied from the toll the tumors took on his body.
As his coworkers ran to his side I looked harder. The black tendrils - that only I could see - laced through his veins, turning the whites of his eyes and fingernails black.
Black sludge was pouring out of his mouth like drool. Some other human called 911. I stroked his hair and it turned to ash under my fingers.
This was strange. But it was not unfamiliar. This was the work of the Life Bringer, my counter. Oftentimes we worked in harmony, as a crucial balance to sustain this planet we served.
This was not her job, but it was her message. She was meant to give life. She had given life to this man some time ago. And yet, it was her choice to now reclaim it.
I needed to get to the bottom of this. For some reason, she was declaring war on me.
​
\------
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed that please check out my subreddit /r/ShittyDuckStories | The emotion that closest passes for relief in my kind washed over me as I finally rounded the corner where I would see my next collection.
I turned and saw him leave the coffee shop where he worked. He was an unassuming 20 year old who worked too much and had few friends. He was a good man though. The notes I had read on his life almost made me sad it was his time but such is the way of the world. I walked towards him looking at his timer, "Death: cancer. 9 seconds."
I rushed towards him as the timer ticked to 8, Fighting my way through the crowd while making sure I wasn't noticed. If I push too hard the mortals to get spooked so I have to be careful.
As it ticked to 7 I got a better view of him. My vision showing me the inner workings of his body like the gears of a clock.
6 ticked away and I realized something.
5. He was healthy. Not a hint of the cancer that would kill him in ...
4 seconds.
At 3 I spotted it. Nodules growing around his heart. I made sure I was near by.
2. He was on the ground.
1. Something is off.
0. It ticked away and his soul released itself into my care. I took the bright shining orb and placed it carefully in my bag.
I couldn't help.but stop and think for a second as people rushed around me trying to help the man. That cancer was agressive, fast, and directly targeted. Perhaps some kind of virus or chemical agent?
My suspicions where confirmed as the timers of all those in contact with the body began to loose time rapidly with Cancer as their reason for dying.
Too bad, work was going to be busy today it seemed. | 2019-12-27T12:57:23 | 2019-12-27T07:43:07 | 31 | 20 |
[WP] You are an ancient and incredibly powerful god, and you’re furious that your enemies keep sending teenage “chosen ones” to fight you. | "Will you jussst ssstop for a minute?"
I scowled at the young boy standing in front of me, sword raised and face set in grim determination. His blade glowed with radiant light, his shield hummed with protective power. Blessed artifacts, probably gathered by much hard work and questing. I could feel my scales flaring in irritation.
"I will never stop! Not while your evil oppresses this land!" He thumped the blessed sword against the holy shield; a wave of energy rang out with the resonance of a bell choir, scattering all of my minions and burning them to dust with the divine radiance. I flinched a bit as the wave hit me. It tickled. I hate tickling.
"For My sssake, human, you do know you're wassssting your time, right? Thosssse items may desssstroy my minionssss, but they do nothing againssssst me."
"I'll not listen to your lies, monster!" He roared as he charged at me, shield up and sword drawn. "For the people of Altrea! For my mother and father! For the WORLD! Today, you DIE!!"
His blessed sword hit me, sank deep into my chest. A grin of righteous victory filled his face... until he noticed me just staring down at the sword cooley. Undisturbed. The divine blessings on it kind of prickled. It was annoying.
"Jusssst ssssit down, you ssspazzy fucking grassshopper." I swatted him to the side and pulled the sword out from my chest. As the wound healed up I used the sword to pick some food from between my fangs before throwing it to the side. "Why did you come here, boy?"
"For justice! For vengeance!" he shouted challengingly.
"That'ssss not what I meant, boy. Why YOU, sssspecifically.?"
"I am Chosen! The old prophecies are clear, that a Blessed Child will appear to defeat you. I AM THAT CHILD!"
"No, you aren't." I told him neutrally. "I know who the Child of Prophessssy isss. I knew him the moment he wasssss born, felt the divine presence filling him from a mile away."
I lashed out, grabbed this foolish misguided boy by the arm, yanked him to my eye level. "Every teenager who thinksssss they are the Child of Prophessssy goesss through the sssame tired predictable routine. They leave their home, sssstart a Great Quesssst. Meet troubled people, ssssave some livessss and ssssolve some problemssss. They find magic treasuresssss they believe will give them the power to ssssslay a god. Then they break into my home, WHICH I NOW HAVE TO REPAIR THANK YOU VERY MUCH BOY, and ssslay all who sssstand in their way until they get to me."
The boy swiped at me with the holy shield. I batted it out of his hand, and grabbed his other arm. Held him in the air by both arms and pulled to each side, holding him prone by his limbs. He winced; I glared.
"Before you die, boy, I will tell you what I told every other 'Child of Prophessssy' who tried this ssssame inssssipid plan to sssslay me. The true Child of Prophessssy is no longer a *child* at all. He issss a man named Bilhelm. He isss a forty year old baker, far from here in Ssssssolnara."
The boy's eyes shot open wide, before narrowing back into an accusatory glare. "LIES! You are trying to deceive me, to weaken my Faith. It won't work! I know better than to trust the word of Evil Incarnate!"
I ripped his arms off. He fell to the ground, screaming in agony as blood sprayed from the red mounds that had once been his shoulders. I casually tossed his arms to the side of my throne, discarded.
"When I felt Bilhelm'sss ssspirit enter the world, I knew I had to act fassssst, to neutralize him assss a threat. The ONLY threat that could sssstand against me. Now you may be thinking, 'He musssst have ssssent armiessss to hunt down thisssss baby', yesss?"
The boy screamed more. He probably couldn't think of anything coherent right now, to be honest.
"Well, I did no ssssuch thing. That would have been foolissssh, ssssserving only to announce hissss pressssence to the world. I worked from the shadowssss, ensssssuring his family's home wassss never attacked, that his parentsssss had financial successsss, that he had the freedom to follow his ssssimple dream of being a baker. The besssst balker in Sssssalnora, actually. I made ssssure that nothing ever sssshattered his world. Coddled him, kept him ssssafe and ssssecure."
I loomed over the screaming boy, who was trying without success to get to his feet. He didn't know how to do it with no arms. "Heroessss are born out of *need*, boy. They are forged in the firesssss of persssssecution. A man who growsssss up with no need, with no wantsssss... he has no *reason* to ssssstrive."
I grabbed the boy hero by his neck, liftd him into the air. "Complassssency, boy. Lazinesssss. This is what killssssss heroessss. Remember that in your next life." **SNAP**, and the boy 's corpse fell to the ground, his neck broken. His story ended.
I rang for servants to enter the hall. Ordered them to clean f the blood, the dust that remained of my soldiers, and to put the blessed sword and holy shield in the armory. They would be rewarded to one of my generals who served well in a future battle.
The intrusion ended, I left my throne room, to appraise the damage to the castle. Repairs would have to be done. Daily chores and daily life would continue on, as they always did.
- - - - -
Hidden in the rafters covered with the Invisibility Cloak they had found on their adventures, Arlia did the best that she could to choke down her urge to scream as she watched Garin, her friend, her... her brave, oh Gods so brave, friend, be torn to literal pieces as the Evil One gloated.
She remained still and quiet as the Evil One left to tend to castle repairs, watched as the servants cleaned the throne room, stole away Garin's sword and shield and... and unceremoniously burned his body to ashe with no funeral, no rites. She watched the remains of her friend be swept away like trash, to be disposed of and lost forever.
Tears filled her eyes; she fought them back, tried to wipe them away before they could drop to the floor and betray her position. She thought for a moment of her and Garin's adventures, how she had worked from the shadows while he charged head on, a team, a pair, a... a love that was now never to be.
Fire filled her eyes as she looked upon the empty throne. Quietly, she padded along the rafters, into a hole in the ceiling to the roof, and out through the unsecured window she had first entered the castle through. As she made her way through the shadows to flee the castle, she whispered to herself, ^"Solnara... ^Bilheim ^the ^Baker."
| I picked up my glasses and slid them past my nose. Much better. Time has been my greatest enemy. You would think an all powerful god would never need glasses but here we are. The ancient form of twisted metal throne protested as I leaned closer to the wisp of magic showing me the enormous battlefield of mountain, labyrinth and forest barring the way to the gates of my palace. There, kicking up dust and emerging from my favorite dark forest, was Yuriels latest champion. Fast on their way to ultimate victory and salvation for the land I'm sure. Pitiful.
It's quite comical to be honest. I looked down my hallway of collected treasures from Heroes past. Quite remarkable how many shades and sorts of gear Yuriels experiments have yielded. Another hero to grow my collection with their little trinkets, broken dreams and lost hopes.
I peered into the mist once more. There was a brilliant white horse, no doubt magically enchanted to never tire, of course, bouncing a heavily armored hero on its back. Yuriel was a fan of horses. She probably put some ridiculous notion in this one's head that they are the only blessed hero that can save the realm. Only in a billion years is there one born with the blah blah blah....
There's a pile of them in my basement.
I'll tell you one thing. Yuriel sure knows how to make armor. Finest craft in all the land. In fact, she got lucky once and some of my power was actually absorbed by one of her brightest masterpieces. Took a bit of effort to slay that one. Maybe there is something to this chosen one nonsense? Probably not. She also loves silver and gold. Not my first choice in metal. I much prefer the flavor of richer steels and exotic offworld metals. Gold is too soft for my liking. No crunch.
The shimmering obsidian gates to my palace creaked open. No denying that sound. As loud as my knee joints and just as irritating. It was time to perform. I have never been so entertained by so many guests but it was getting tiresome. Not to mention I was starting to get attached to her poor minions. They really try and she often sends them disgustingly unprepared. She also seems to hold an affinity to the lesser developed ones. They tend to be much more gullible and eager to please.
I truly feel sorry for them. When I arrived on this planet a lesser god known as Yuriel had the entire planet wrapped around her finger. She proclaimed to be benelovent and a loving goddess. She is the most irritating and narcissistic being I have ever had the displeasure to meet. Naked statues of her everywhere. Paintings and endless pottery showering her with borish praises, bent knees and endless worship. And for what? The poor creatures live and die serving her every whim. They bring her exotic spices, foods, gifts and young slaves from every corner of the planet. She even demands young virgin sacrifices. Why virgin I'll never understand. I think she might have some jealousy issues but she refused to talk to me about it. She's also taken such terrible advantage of the lesser beings on this primitive backwards planet. Oh, just imagine how disturbed the world is to know there are more powerful gods in the cosmos. Imagine her surprise when I wouldn't "bend the knee" as it were. Its unfortunate really. You don't meet too many folks with her level of power. It would have been nice to have a friend to walk on the stars with. Always one of my favorite past times.
"I have come to slay you! Your evil reign is done!"
Oh my I must of lost track of time. Reminiscent memories seem to distract me more powerfully as of late.
"Oh come in my friend, we have so much to talk about."
As I looked up from my little whisper of magic a shimmering steel blade tip split the air before my face and thrust through the left lens of my most cherished onyx trimmed glasses. The brave little creature slowly withdrew the broken tipped blade and stared at it in horror. My glasses. My favorite glasses were ruined.
Now I was angry.
A sharp crack of thunder shook the walls and rattled the collected armor on their stands. That was enough. I was done. Yuriel can have her stupid planet back. I've had it with these ridiculous mortals and this stupid chosen ones game. The poor creature looks barely old enough to leave home.
My fingers snapped and an enormous bolt of crackling lightning erupted from my hand and vaporized the beast into dust, armor and all. From my hands in all directions I instantly levelled the palace and teleported my form before Yuriel. Reckoning had come. I stared straight into her shimmering blue eyes and I pointed straight at her face.
"You suck. I'm not playing this game anymore. And I'm going on a vacation."
She stammered a few words before collecting herself. Several servants were hastily crawling away from me. Horrified screams erupted and the loud echo of soldiers stumbling away from the scene were almost enough to break my bad mood.
"Have you changed your mind and decided to bow down to my greatness?" She managed to stutter.
It took all the strength I could muster to not vaporize everything in the immediate area but then it just didn't seem fair to harm so many because of a bad mood.
I rubbed my brow while looking down like a disappointed parent. My poor glasses.
"You really are full of yourself aren't you? I give up! Your people won't learn. You won't learn. I'm leaving."
"Good! Great! Begone then! I have vanquished thee and my people can now rejoice! The land has been saved! Come slaves! We will have a great feast in my honor! I have defeated the great evil that plagues the land!"
She gestures towards the trembling poor creatures that couldn't make sense of the man floating several feet off the ground completely engulfed in black flames.
"Before I leave I'm going to give your people a gift. In my defense, you kind of had this coming."
I reached out and gently touched the woman's face. A brief smile cracked my lips, and in that instant I was gone. The volume of space I had occupied twisted slightly and snapped back like a burst bubble.
The room grew quiet. Several soldiers peered in around the corner to see what had happened. Yuriel started shaking. She looked at her hands. A slow horror crept upon her face. She realized the worst had just happened to her. Her hands desperately clawed at her cheek. Her power was gone. There was no strength surrounding her. No magical finesse. Nothing. Only herself. Naked, mortal and screaming as the slaves started to realize the chosen one had actually saved them afterall. | 2018-05-19T08:58:24 | 2018-05-19T08:32:20 | 21 | 15 |
[WP]: As standard protocol, each new, intelligent alien life is judged not by what they say they are, but by an evaluation from a representative of their servants or slave species. Fascinatingly, the fate of humanity lands on the opinion of a little dog named Lucy. | Samantha lead Lucy towards the grey humanoid creature. Lucy walked very close to Samantha, cautiously with her head and tail low. Lucy was a beautiful Golden Retriever that Samantha had rescued from a shelter. They stopped right in front of the 9 feet tall alien. Samantha bent down to Lucy and Lucy instinctively sat down. Samantha took the leash off, hugged Lucy, and scratched behind her ears. Samantha stood up, but firmly told Lucy to stay. Samantha walked a few feet back and watched, while Lucy stayed and whimpered.
The alien creature reached out it's long skinny hands, pointing a finger at Lucy. Lucy, looked scared, but obeyed Samantha and stayed put because she trusts her. The alien placed a finger on Lucy's forehead, a warmth overcame her whole body and she now has a look of content. The alien speaks telepathically and broadcasts it's voice to every human and dog in the world.
"State your name." the deep alien voice was heard in everybody and dogs head. "I am Lucy, of Samantha!" Lucy's inner voice was also being broadcasted. "What is your relationship to the human Samantha?" the alien asked. "Samantha is my human friend!" "Friend?" the alien voice roared in everyone's voice. "Is the human Samantha not your owner?" "I never considered Samantha as an owner" Lucy answered.
The alien is visibly confused at this point and asks "Would you call Samantha as your master?" "Master?" Lucy scoffed. "No, I would not call her a master." The alien looking intrigued, turns it's head sideways and asks "Are you the human's master?" "No no" Lucy shook it's head, "Fifi is Samantha's master." taken aback, the alien questioned while looking straight at Samantha "Who or what is Fifi?" "Fifi is the cat" Lucy answered. | "I am Lucy, four paws have I,
And for my owner I'd proudly die,
She would never ask me or expect,
for this reason I would gladly protect.
I am Lucy, golden fur have I,
I lay my head on her lap when she cries,
When the scent of her child,
Was gone, but first mild,
I lay my head down when she cries.
I am Lucy and love have I known,
Through sadness, and hurt, I've a home,
Never did they scorn, or leave me forlorn,
My joy was not forced, it was my own.
I am Lucy, four paws have I,
For my owner I would proudly die,
Given all of my time, humans deserve life,
without them I could not have lived mine." | 2018-10-02T08:40:42 | 2018-10-02T07:12:20 | 347 | 108 |
[WP]You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.
Inspired by *The Merchant Adventurer*, by Patrick E. McLean.
EDIT: Wow, thanks everyone that contributed! The awesome Patrick E. McLean (/u/patrickemclean) stopped by, gave a snippet from his book in a comment, and even gave us a link to listen to *The Merchant Adventurer* as an audiobook:
>Okay, a bit unusual, but since I wrote the book that inspired this writing prompt, Here's mine. The Merchant Adventure is available as a free audiobook if you want the whole thing: http://podiobooks.com/title/the-merchant-adventurer/ | "VRUDASH BACK!!!!"
"Oh for f.... Hello Vrudash. Good to see you aga.. *WIPE YOUR GODS DAMNED BOOTS OFF BEFORE YOU COME IN AT LEAST PLEASE???*"
"WAAT? OH. Oh. Vrudash sorry. Goblin Blood and guts kind of stick to Vrudash boots."
"I know. I know it does. Every damn time you go dungeon raiding with your friends you end up covered in stuff. Just.. ugh.. good lord, I think you have some guts stuck in your dredlocks too..."
"VRUDASH DOZZ?? AW.. DAMMIT VRUDASH JUST GET HAIR DONE LAST WEEK TO.. EERRK... WAT.. WAT DIS??"
"Looks like an Eyestalk. You .. kill a Beholder?"
"URR.. ME THINK SO? BIG FLOATY THING WITH BUNCH OF EYES?"
"Yeah. That's a Beholder."
"YAH YAH. ME STOMP LIKE.. FOUR OF THEM."
"... You killed four Beholders? In one Adventure?"
"YAH."
"... Honestly, Vru, for you thats a bit lacking. Just four?"
"SHUDDUP. VRUDASH HAVE COLD. SLOW DOWN. WAS ON STOOPID COLD MEDICINE. GROGGY AND STUFF. Anyways.. me bring stuff..."
*The sounds of a sack being emptied of random jewels, coins, knicknacks, the sound of a goat hitting the counter and running for the exit in fear..*
"... Oookay. Lets see what we got. Some gold Ruritanian coins.. some mixed gold and silver Styginian coins. I can change those into the Kings Crowns for you. Usual exchange rate..."
"VRUDASH COOL WIT DAT. EXCHANGE RATE IS STILL BETTER THAN WELLS FARGO."
"Yeah. C'mon, I'm not a common thief here... hmmm.. some +1 Longswords.. a couple of +2 Daggers. Some Moss-Agates... kinda small and not exactly well cut but I can get a couple crowns for these too. Hmm.. Nice Ruby, good cut.. oh wait, this is Glass Vru. I'll give you ten silver crowns for that. Huh.. whats this?.. Oh hey! Nice! A Grouthanian Spellbook!"
"WAT? OH THAT. YAH... UM.. THAT NOT REALLY FOR SALE UH.."
"... Really? You're learning Magic now, my half-orc Barbarian friend?"
"MAGIC IS FOR WUSSIES AND STOOPID ELVES AND PEOPLE WHO LISTEN TO FOLK MUSIC. VRUDASH NO LEARN MAGIC. PFFTT."
"And you aren't selling this? You sure? These things are... well they are kinda expensive."
"... reeellie???"
"Oh yeah! Absolutely.. lets take a look.. Hmm.. Orgeskin binding. Grouthanian Parchment. Hmmm.. Mithirillium Alloy padlock.. looks smashed but I know someone who could probably repair it. The pages look silver edged too. Very nice quality I... wait a second."
"... Um.. wat?"
"... Someone drew a bunch of pictures of big, green half-orc dicks over these spells..."
"Um.."
"Big. Thick. Veiny green half-orc dicks. On EVERY PAGE."
"Yeahhh 'bout dat.. I uhh.."
"BIG. GREEN DICKS. EVERYWHERE. I mean, I turn a page. BOOM. BIG GREEN DICK."
"VRUDASH FOUND BOOK LIKE DAT."
"In Crayon. CRAYON. Vrudash, did you .. no. You know what. I don't even care. Ugh. I'll give you 2 gold crowns for it."
"WAT. BUT.."
"The crayon ruined the spells. If I wipe off the crayon I ruin the spells. This spellbook is almost completely useless. 2 crowns. Keep arguing and it'll be 1. And don't bother telling me you'll shop around. No one will take this, and the Guild of Wizards will just nuke your big moss-colored ass to oblivion for what you've done to this.."
".... Vrudash get 3 crowns in Trade in value instead?"
".... You're a bastard, Vrudash. You're a complete bastard. I'll give you 2 gold crowns in store credit and a small bag of hot salted squirrel-chunks."
"OOO SQUIRREL CHUNKS TASTY. DEAL."
| Introduction: I am Jericho The Covetous, king of kingdom Skyfall, the land of dragons. Before nobility, I was a merchant, and an excellent one at that. While my wealth was vast, my lust for treasure was a higher priority. Over the years, I've found that adventurers possess the greatest treasures. Because of this, and with the help of Mundus, I created The Abyssal Tradeshop.
*ringaling*
The bell on the front door rang, indicating another customer in my vast shop. It was the humble lad from Skyrim (love the place. It has dragons, like Skyfall), the Dragonborn. He didn't talk much, but he had some legendary items.
"Welcome back to The Abyssal Tradeshop, Assblaster. What do you have today?"
"What do you have for sale?"
Ugh, he always began every conversation with that, even if he wasn't buying anything. From his back, he pulled out a full set of Legendary Daedric Armor that gave you fifty extra health when worn. Why he'd sell this? I presume he made a better set, with fifty-*five* extra health, after learning how to do it better.
"Another set of armor, eh? Very nice. Here's 500 Septims." I donned the armor, and slid him the cash. Suddenly, he began speaking a strange tounge. *Fus Roh Dah?* What does that mean? Either way, it was a lethal dragonshout, and I run a safe business here.
"I already told you, Assblaster, Dragonshouts don't work in the abyss. Enjoy your forty septim bouty when you get home."
He was transported out of the abyss with the touch of a button. It's a shame, he probably had something good. Whatever, he was just going to sell me fifty iron daggers or something had he stayed.
*Twenty minutes later*
Another traveler entered, carrying a giant bag of loot. Oh, look, it's Geralt, the witcher. He usually had some good magical items.
"Welcome back to The Abyssal Tradeshop. What do you have today, Geralt?"
"Well, I'm in a bit of debt. What'll you give me for this?"
He pulled his necklace off and set it on the counter. This'll be good. A genuine Witcher Academy necklace was veeery rare. I examined the necklace, feeling the vibrations in its shiny chrome.
"How much are you looking to get?"
He thought for a moment, but looked back. "1000 gold."
I thought about the price for a bit. 1000 gold pieces for a simple necklace? Well, it was a nice necklace...
"Why are you selling this? I thought witchers needed their magic necklaces."
"I've always had a second one, which I kept at home. I figured its immaculate condition would catch your eye."
Well, he knew my reputation.
"Hmm... I'll give you 750 gold for it."
"Done."
He handed me the certificate of authenticity, showing that it was a true Witcher's necklace, in exchange for the gold.
Perfect... I have the best armor, legendary weaponry, all sorts of legendary items; and now... a Witcher's magic necklace. Perfect... soon, I can go a real adventure. I do recall a man who needed a caravan escort to Neverwinter.
*****
/u/BookWyrm17 will get the reference. Anyway, you can find more of my work at /r/Picklestasteg00d. | 2016-10-16T11:54:48 | 2016-10-16T09:33:23 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] You're a financial advisor. In 1994, you get a weird phone call from a man asking you if he can get any Bitcoin below $200k, and the call cuts off before you can ask him what Bitcoin was. Years later you get a call again from the same man, claiming he's calling back seconds after disconnection. | "What the fuck is a bit-coin?" I asked, writing her number down. Gotta make sure the spam call list stays up to date.
"Ah, have you not heard? It's like digital money that no one can see, but everyone wants to buy anyway because they don't understand it. Look it up on your phone."
I scrunched my nose. "How am I supposed to do that? Phones are for calling, idiot."
The call suddenly clicked, leaving me confused and hungry. I shrugged and got a sandwich from the fridge.
That was fifteen years ago. Of course, when I heard about the insane rise of bitcoin recently, and saw how many people were buying in, I had a lot of questions. Who was that mysterious caller, and how could she have known? Why call me, asking to buy some?
I didn't really care, though, because I had insider trading information that no one could prove. I bought eight whole BTC when it was at $10k, and eagerly awaited my payout.
We all know how that went for me.
Once it dropped to $3k, I was sitting in my office on a late night. Just eating some pizza, watching crypto crash, when another call came in. The same number I'd pinned to my cubicle wall fifteen years prior.
"*Ahem*. Hello, good sir. I just called a few moments ago, inquiring about Bitcoin, but the call disconnected. My name is Barbara Baker. As I was saying-- do you have some bitcoin? I don't want to pay more than $200k!"
I slammed a fist on the table, stood up, loosened my tie, and just... screamed. "FIRST OF ALL, WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME, ASKING TO BUY BITCOIN, AS IF IT ISN'T A DIGITAL TECHNOLOGY? WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, A HODL FAIRY? YOU CAN TRANSCEND TIME BUT NOT LOG INTO BITTREX? GO BUY YOUR OWN FUCKING BITCOIN.
"SECONDLY, I DONT KNOW WHO YOU ARE OR WHAT KIND OF MIND-BENDING POWERS YOU HAVE THAT DISREGARD THE LAWS OF SPACE AND TIME, BUT STOP USING THEM TO DOWNLOAD MONEY. DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THE BLOCKCHAIN IS, BARBARA? DO YOU?"
"Well now, please calm down Mr. Gr--"
"NO, GET YOUR TIME-TRAVELING, FOMO ASS OUT OF HERE. I BET YOU'D KEEP YOUR BITCOIN ON A SITE WALLET, WOULDN'T YOU, BARBARA? WOULDN'T YOU?"
The line was silent for a moment, buzzing, before she spoke again. "...wow, it's that bad huh? How much did you lose?"
"NOT FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS."
"I see. I apologize for the poor returns. Well, my friend, I have a great opportunity for you-- would you like to buy some Ethereum for only five thousand a piece? It's going to be what Bitcoin could nev-"
I ripped my phone out of the wall and threw it through the window.
*/r/resonatingfury* | "Sorry, my connection was lost for a moment," the voice explained.
"Excuse me, I don't... think so?" I said as it was all I could tell at that situation. To be quite honest, I did remember that call. It was a very unique call, after all.
"Oh, did I get connected to the different person? I was connected to James before. Perhaps a different James?" the man said.
"I'm James. Yes. But..." I began, but couldn't continue. It was too crazy to tell the customer that they called years ago. It was probably just a coincidence. "For starters, I don't know what's the bitcoin you're talking about," I said, sighing and leaning back on the chair.
"What? Okay, this is weird. I am pretty sure that I-" but there was a silence. "Oh shit. It worked!"
"What worked?"
"My time machine phone. I'm professor James Smith - yes, it's the most generic name, I know - and I am a scientist from 2029," the scientist said. I could hear how he was grinning at the same time at the other end of the phone. But I understood him as I also had a rather generic name.
In any normal cases, I would've already put the phone down and continued my job. But this time around, I couldn't. Just from the fact alone that I remembered when James had called here the last time and that I might never get another call from him again made me hang onto it.
"Sir, that's some good news, because I am Elizabeth, the queen of England," I said it a bit more quietly. The last thing I needed was the boss jumping on me and telling me how rude I was with the customers. But I could hear a snort from the other side.
"It's fine. Just remember, Bitcoins will be super expensive. Buy a lot of them and sell them at 2018," the voice said.
"Really? And why do you think I will remember to do that?"
"Because I'm rich," the voice said.
/r/Elven | 2019-04-07T07:05:30 | 2019-04-07T07:00:19 | 95 | 38 |
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