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] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors. | *The biggest pain in the ass in the galaxy is the damn gates.
I say this as a gate physicist. I was there when we built the first ones, and just five years later the experiments closed down and we all figured out "that's that, nothing else to do here." It turns out there are only so many ways you can tweak spacetime before it, to simplify, gets pissed off. One way is to emit EM through a region of stabilized bubble-space. You'd think being able to transit information would be cheaper than matter, right?
In terms of gate physics, you'd be wrong. You do that, it doesn't work, you do too much of that, the bubble stabilizers (what you call a gate) explode and you get a nifty little shockwave through spacetime that the universe chooses to interpret as a gravitational wave. That's what happened to Jupiter. Damn shame, that. Just one gas giant funneled into a short-lived singularity and no one wants to do physics anymore.
So now I'm a fucking courier. I mean, you really can't transit a hyperlane without an advanced degree in gate physics, but those of us who really fucked up at Jupiter get this shit job, and I fucked up the worst of everyone. I was the goddamned lead. We get to fly out from Sol and ping pong around the universe on three month shifts just doing data dumps. All of those shiny-new colony worlds need their infodumps and uploads. The bigger ones have got material passing through, so the data delivery is regular and piggybacked, just like whatever else they receive. Me though? Data only. Half the time I don't even get to put down at the colony, just orbit near whatever ass-end of nowhere rock they put the gate near. They're still afraid of the damn things.
Give us three years and an out-of-the-way system with a decent gravity well and we'll iron out the kinks enough that you'll have a damn gate in your bedroom that leads to your office, or hell, at least an intercolony equivalent of the Earth net.*
Robert scanned his rant and clicked 'Send.' That clown doing the 'Where are they now' story of people involved in the Jupiter Incident wouldn't print a word, but it left him feeling better. He nudged his pod into the final approach for the New Arab Emirates gate. He liked the NAE. It was a money-talks sort of place, but it was also comfortable and the air smelled good.
"Hey there Intrepid, you doing okay?" he asked the pod.
"Looking forward to getting serviced after we touch down, actually. Those techs at Dubai station really know what they're doing" the Intrepid replied, with a genderless voice.
"Any reason to look forward to service?" Robert asked, tapping his way through the diagnostics interface in front of him, "hey you didn't tell me about that."
"Sorry," the pod replied, "just that same minor variance in thrust on number three, nothing to worry about. Ganymede Memorial just sucks a thruster maintenance."
"Still, probably should have let me know before now. Damn man, you act like this isn't a precision enterprise."
"You're right, but you do like to worry," the pod sounded concerned, "prepping for transit in ten seconds on the mark alert."
The gate-lockdown klaxon sounded and the blast shutters dropped across the viewscreen as a visual countdown began on the panel. At zero, a vague feeling of unease passed over Robert. "Uh, hey, that was a little weird," he said.
"So hey, you remember that thruster variance?"
"You're shitting me."
"I lack an anus, but if I did I probably would be dropping a brick through it."
The shutter raised and outside of the viewscreen was a view of what was obviously a black hole, accretion disk and all. More concerning, was what looked like a cross between a spacecraft and a sea creature at a scale that Robert had never seen before just off the port bow.
"It's hailing us," Intrepid said. "I can't make it out though, seems like some kinda cross between English, Chinese and Tagalog."
"Can't you process all of those?"
"Not like this...but hey...does something about the universal constant being useful as a galactic clock mean anything to you?"
"Yeah, a paper I wrote as an undergrad covered that, why?"
"If this math is right, then...well you should check."
A series of complex equations appeared on the viewscreen.
"Wait, that can't be right, that would put us at...what...a million years?"
"Looks like. Hey, I've been chatting with their computer, nice chap by the way, I think I can translate real time now, you want to open a channel Bob?" Intrepid asked.
"Yeah, let's get this over with." | The days on this planet are longer: I’m pretty sure one day here is at least 4 days back on Earth - the sun here, smaller yet hotter, is literally a perpetual presence, and, if I had sunscreen and a hat and water, its cheerful brightness might’ve been a beacon of hope but it’s burning my skin and leaving me dehydrated so much I started seeing things: long dead daughters and a rather frightening mirage of my boss, Mr Vander, telling me I’m almost at my destination, I’m almost there, *keep going, Miany*.
I last spoke to him at least 15 hours ago: his only advice was that I find the local inhabitants of the planet and ask for their help, something he was very confident would work: he didn’t think they’d be hostile or frightened of an alien like me in anyway. Mr Vander is charming and confident, the “Cool Fox” we sometimes call him due to a certain cunning that lies just beneath his handsome looks, and when he says anything with that deep, steady voice of his you believe him, you even start believing in yourself.
In my 45 years of living, I’ve never thought of thirst as being physically painful - it’s always been more of a nag, a bother at worst. My lips are dryer than the sand I trudge through - the hyperplane, my masterful invention, crashed in place that’s weirdly like the Sahara: bone-dry and excruciating glare, a hell up on the surface.
It’s odd that the hyperplane malfunctioned - in fact, when I realized, with a cold twist of my stomach, that I was going to veer off course into wild space, I couldn’t believe it: my hyperplanes, an out-of-this-world progression of human accomplishment, couldn’t possibly have a fault.
They were built because the Earth was dying and humanity needed a new home - which we found in a habitable planet called Spugg - and we needed to get there damn quickly. FTL was still decades away and so the hyperplanes, while initially rejected by the masses, were employed.
I’m seeing something else now in this alien desert, a settlement, buildings and walking figures, unlikely since it seemed crazy that anyone could live in this firehole. But, as I stumble forwards, feet black and on fire, I realize that hallucinations have quite a different quality than real stuff, and that what’s before me is actually a small village - from here, in my dizzy, near-death state, I see grotesque humanoids ambling around, gnarled limbs sticking out of their torsos, a nightmare if I was in a more stable state of mind.
I don’t care if they might be hostile, all I need is water, or, at any rate, an equivalent to it. I shout and every single one of them, in disturbing, choreographed unity, turn their heads in my direction. As I wave my hands, already regretting my decision, my communicator beeps: judging by the mugshot-like picture of a strong young man on the screen, it’s one of the engineering interns back on Earth, which is odd because I don’t quite expect interns to be involved in my rescue mission.
“Hello - “ I begin but I gasp when I see the interns face on the video call: bloody and bashed, eyes slits and purple.
“Miany!” he shouts. Interns usually, in fright and awe, refer to me as Miss Ogamenda, so him calling me by my name means there’s something serious going on. Before I can ask what the fuck, he continues:
“Miany. I only have little time left! Listen to me!”
“What is it?” Instantly, like medicine, an unnerving energy washes over me: the desert is discarded and forgotten. “Is the meteor about to strike Earth?”
“No, listen!” He is barely intelligible since his mouth is so puffy. “Everything was a lie! I overhead them, Mr Vander, Mrs Plygien, everyone! I managed to get away but they’ve got soldiers on me. I’ve already broadcast the whole truth to the entire Eartg.”
I can see him, with his sturdy frame, fighting off advancing guards, and with a sinking feeling, I realize what he meant when he said “little time”.
“The Earth isn’t dying. Vander Inc. has been polluting and destroying the Earth on purpose so that they could get government funding to find and conquer other worlds! It’s all a thirst for power!”
“What?”
“Your hyperplane: it didn’t just malfunction, it was tampered with. They figured you were too close to the inner circle and couldn’t be trusted if the truth was leaked to you. They only wanted your brains and inventions, your hyperplane especially, and they always planned to get rid of you afterwards. You’ve always been outspoken and fought for what’s right - we interns always admired you about that. There was no way they could risk you finding out, Miany.”
My head is spinning: faintly, like they’re on some faraway planet, I can hear the aliens approaching, massive feet thudding on sand
“Oh, fuck, they’re coming.” Fear and death are in the intern’s eyes as he looks up from his communicator and back down to me. “They tried to kill you! Not just by making you crash on an alien desert planet but on an alien desert planet with aliens who’ve come into contact with humans before. Bad contact, hundreds of years ago in the early 21st century. They hate humans and will arrest or kill one on sight!”
As the thought of being wanted on two fronts sinks in, the intern’s eyes widen, and when he tries to open his mouth in a rigid, spastic way, there’s an explosion, and the screen of the communicator goes black. | 2018-01-22T11:04:11 | 2018-01-22T08:42:52 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] As the hero enters the throne room of the dark lord. The throne is empty and the hero's companion says with a grin " Well this has been delightful but I'm afraid the fun is now over.". | "And you were doing so well: you figured out the riddle, got the scroll, and even managed to defeat my Golem. I must say I am impressed, Gilder, but now this game has run its course. You never would have expected your faithful friend, Decepto, of betrayal, but now I have you in-"
Decepto suddenly could not speak, he reached towards his throat and could feel a large dagger protruding from his neck. He could also feel warm blood pour through his hands before falling to his knees and then the ground, his armor making a loud clanging noise as it crashed to the ground. Gilder watched as Decepto gurgled and coughed his last breath, he held another dagger at the ready just in case.
The many men waiting in ambush came out from their hiding spots, screaming with their swords drawn. They all halted in their tracks, however, when they saw their master in a pool of his own blood.
"You... you killed our lord, ruler of darkness, king of chaos, master of all things e-" Gilder threw another dagger right at the follower's neck.
"Anyone else?" Gilder said pulling out another or a seemingly endless supply of daggers.
"Well Hero," said another follower with the good sense to drop his sword first. "How long did you suspect Decepto's treachery?"
"The name Decepto never really sat right with me to begin with, but really he had a tendency to say stuff like 'All in good time my *friend*' or 'We *both* shall be wetting our blades before long' and then laughing. He just never seemed above board." Gilder walked over to the two bodies and retrieved his two daggers from their respective necks. "Believe me, when you've been heroing as long as I have, you pick up on stuff like this."
The follower buried his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes in embarrassment. "And you just killed him? And one of his acolytes? What about honor, duty, fairness? I thought knights are supposed to be merciful, not just kill on a wh- SERIOUSLY! I'm not even armed!"
The follower narrowly dodged the dagger and it went clattering into the corner.
"Believe me doing it this way saves a lot of headaches"
"God, you're worse than Decepto!"
"Hey, you guys were going to kill *me*."
"We were going to ask you to join us! He was gonna make you second in command. I mean we expected that you'd turn us down but..."
"Aw man seriously, I totally would have gone for that, do you know how much traveling a Hero does? I could have really gone for a throne job. Any chance we can still make that happen? Your cult doesn't dabble in necromancy does it?"
"Wow, I really hate you."
| With a satisfying *SHLUNK*, the WyrmBeast falls to the floor. I wipe its blood off my vorpal blade and quickly crouch at Ryn's side.
"No..." I breathe, watching her lithe body for some sign of life. She had managed one last spell - *Wind of Flame* - before I heard her scream, piercing and full of fear, as the demonling had charged her. I hadn't had a chance to see what had happened, had prayed that the spell had stopped the creature before it could corrupt her...
"Ryn, please...we're so close...this is the last door."
It was strange. She clearly was not breathing, but her robes were intact, there was no Glyph of Darkness on her head. But if she had not succumbed to the cursed bite of the demonling, what had killed her?
I bow my head. "Please, Ryn," I whisper, "Don't die." Warm wetness wells up in my eyes; a single tear fall from my face. It glistens in the dim torchlight, fragile and pure, and lands mutely on the mage's cheek. My comrade-in-arms. My companion. My *friend*.
Impossibly, her eyelids fly open, and I see the vibrant jade of her irises looking up at me. Her face twitches for a moment, and then...she laughs.
It is an awful sound. A harsh cackle that echoes off the walls of the catacombs. She pauses to catch her breath, then begins anew.
My hand tightens on the hilt of my weapon. Could I have missed the sign somehow? Or is this some other curse that is taking her over? A ward of madness placed on the spell book we had found in the alchemist's quarters, perhaps...
And still, the laughing - the cackling - continues, wracking her delicate frame. Tears stream down her face. She gasps, "I'm...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."
Releasing my weapon, I brush back her hood, the ebon tresses lost in the black cloth. "Why? What are you sorry for?"
"I tried. I really, really did. I kept a straight face through your whole, stupid speech. And *wow*, what a speech it was. When they taught you swordsmanship, did they also train you in words to say to your fallen comrade? Because, I mean...you ticked all the boxes, Straumn, you really did."
Her voice changed to a soprano simper. "No, please, oh, we're so close, oh, don't die, oh Ryn, oh gosh, I'm going to cry..."
She smirked. "I was this close. *This* close to keeping it together. And then you *cried* on me! Your big dopey tear splashed on me and part of it went up my nose! I mean...come ON! I may be the Dark Lady of Myr Tower, but I'm not made of *stone*!"
I stared at her, agape.
"Oh, geez. You still hadn't figured it out? Here, let me help you connect the dots."
Before I could react, the copper doors to my left burst open, and air sucked us into the room inside.
"See? Nobody home," she said, gesturing broadly at the empty throne on the dais against the far wall. "But I did want to thank you for helping me identify vulnerabilities in my defenses and weeding out the weakest of my followers. This really has been delightful - but I'm afraid the fun is now over."
The room goes black and I hear her begin to chant.
* * *
/r/ShadowsofClouds | 2018-01-23T15:56:29 | 2018-01-23T15:54:33 | 413 | 79 |
[WP] As the hero enters the throne room of the dark lord. The throne is empty and the hero's companion says with a grin " Well this has been delightful but I'm afraid the fun is now over.". | As the hero enters the throne room of the Dark Lord, he finds the throne is empty and the hero's companion says with a grin, "Well, this has been delightful, but I'm afraid the fun is now over."
 
Adjusting his chat headset, Hudson sighed. “Dude, we’re so close. Can’t you stay on just another hour?”
    Tane shook his head, forgetting Hudson was miles away behind a computer screen and not right beside him. “Sorry, I really can’t. I’ve been putting off Finley for three days, and I’m finally taking her out tonight. She’ll lose it if I’m not ready by four.”
    “What?” Hudson yelped. “It’s just now nine in the morning!”
    “Hudson,” Tane said. “There’s a six-hour time difference between us, remember?”
    “Oh,” Hudson sighed. After a moment, he huffed, “Man, you’re really whipped.”
    “Nah, I’m just in *love*,” Tane teased, drawing it out. Hudson scoffed.
    “Shut up.” Hudson refocused his attention on the game and directed his armor-clad hero further into the throne room. “Come on, seriously. I want to find this bastard Dark Lord guy and see what he drops.”
    “It’s not even that good. My cousin played and- “
    “Shut up!” Hudson repeated. “Don’t ruin this for me.”
 
Tane glanced at the clock. He promised his girlfriend a fancy dinner date tonight, and he promised himself that he’d take a break from the addicting world of *Tremania* to spend time with real people instead of 3D orcs and warlocks. He knew Hudson, however, would spend all day immersed in the game. He’d never get out of his chair unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then, he’d often carry his laptop with him and continue playing. Tane was far less obsessed than Hudson was, but he could see how quickly the addiction could form.
 
     *Tremania* let you be anything you wanted, and Hudson transformed from a sick, cancer-weakened ex-football player to a mighty warrior with plenty of friends, plenty of fame, and plenty of fortune. He spent all his time immersed in the virtual world as the rest of his life slowly withered away.
Tane, who played a fierce mage character, used *Tremania* as a stress-relieving outlet. Between college, a serious girlfriend, a developing career, and an adventurous social life, Tane hardly had any time for himself. When he finally took a break, he explored dungeons and conquered hordes of monsters armed with only a mouse and a keyboard. He enjoyed his life, but he worried about Hudson.
 
    “Hey, Huds?” Tane spoke gently into his mic.
    “Yeah?” Hudson’s face was screwed up in concentration as he frantically searched for any clues to the level boss’s location.
    “How are you doing? Really.”
 
    Hudson stopped. His hands, cold from the lack of movement, stalled on his laptop’s keyboard. He looked over the oxygen tank sitting next to him, the dozens of little orange bottles that littered his desk, and the looseness of his tshirt that wasn’t there two months ago.
    “I’m better than ever, bro. Better than ever.” Hudson clicked a few more times and then a message popped up on the screen. “Got it!” He shouted. “Let’s go!”
 
    Tane’s phone buzzed. Without looking, he knew it was Finley asking if he was ready. “I can’t,” he said, moving his cursor to the red “Log Out” bar. “I’m really sorry. I’ll log back on tonight and we can do a couple dungeon raids, okay?”
    “Fine,” Hudson mumbled, already preoccupied with the boss battle. “See you then.”
 
Tane took off his headset and tossed it on his bed. With a click of his mouse, the throne room disappeared. He closed the laptop, and once again he was Tane Williams, not a fearless battlemage. Real life was waiting for him, full of just as much – if not more – excitement and opportunity as the game.
 
    For Hudson, beyond the game there was nothing but beeping machines and tiny pills, empty stomachs and patchy hair loss. It was a refuge where he could be the hero, instead of waiting for someone to save him. At least in *Tremania*, Hudson Brant could have a happy ending.
| Hey guys. Wanted to try my hand at another prompt to see how things would work out. I had a lot of fun with this story. Hope you enjoy and as always, feel free to let me know if there's anything I can improve on for the future.
~~~~~
“Wh-…where is he? He couldn’t have just gone off somewh-HE SHOULD BE RIGHT THERE!”
Kou’s eyes were wide as he gestured incredulously at the empty throne before him, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his sword in the other.
Stepping forward, the only sound in the long hall leading up to the throne was the thud of his boots against the floor as he slowly approached the throne, his brain spinning as he drew long breaths, his gaze flitting about the room, trying to find anything that could answer his question.
“Stop!”
Kou, doing as he was told, turned to look behind him at the girl who had been standing silently beside him when they entered. Her face was turned down at the floor, but even so, the tears didn’t go unnoticed to the confused hero.
“Lu…?”
Kou’s voice trailed off as he watched Lu crying, instantly forgetting about the empty throne behind him.
Lucy flinched at the name, as if she had just been poked with something sharp, and then she slowly brought her head up to gaze at Kou. A hesitent grin was plastered on her face while tears streamed down her cheeks.
“I’ve had so much fun with you, but it looks like it’s finally all over…”
Lucy dropped the staff she had been clutching in her hands, the twisted oaken pole clattering to the floor as she stepped over it and walked forward, passing by Kou without hesitating.
Frowning, the hero turned and watched as the girl that he had traveled with for two long years now walk down the hall towards the throne.
“Lu. Wait!”
Rushing forward, Kou instinctively reached out to grab his companion’s shoulder. But just as he touched her, a spark flew from Lucy’s body and lit the hero’s hand ablaze.
Yelping, Kou reeled back in surprise and the flames disappeared, leaving his hand unharmed.
Lucy didn’t stop until she finally reached the throne at the end of the hall, and then she turned to face Kou, the unsure grin gone from her face and the tears finally passing as she stared at the hero before her, thinking her words over carefully as he stared back, his mind blank at the turn of events.
“Kou…I’m so so sorry…I…I never…”
Lucy’s mind was just as blank as Kou’s at this point as she tried to think of what to say to the man before her.
Kou stepped forward, his sword shaking.
“Lu…what’s going on? What are you doing?”
Lucy let out a pained laugh in response, one hand covering her mouth as the other gripped the arm-rest of the throne to support her legs as her vision blurred again.
“I…I’m the daughter of the Demon King.”
“Don’t lie to me, Lu.”
Kou’s response was immediate, and his eyes went from confused to angry in an instant.
“You’re not the daughter of the Demon King. You’re the daughter of *our* King back home.”
Lucy shook her head in response, squeezing her eyes shut as she took labored breaths. To her, the pain she felt now was worse than anything she had ever experienced in the past two years.
“No, I’m not…I’m the King’s niece. I’m the Demon King’s daughter.”
“What are y-“
“Stop! Let me explain.”
Kou’s response caught in his throat and he closed his mouth again, his eyebrows drawing down to add to the apparent angry and confused look on his face.
Slowing her breathing, Lucy took a deep breath and slowly stood up straight again, lowering her arms defenselessly to her sides as she stared into the eyes of the hero before her.
“It’s…nearly four centuries ago, *our* country was preparing to go to war with the two neighboring countries to the East and West. My ancestors had been fearing war for so long, because at the time, our middle country acted as a buffer for the two on either side. We had no qualms with either, but they both harbored ill-will and carried enough power to level cities—and we were caught right in the middle…”
Lucy’s explanation was slow as she averted her scared and saddened eyes from Kou’s stare.
“My ancestors knew that, if our two neighbors were to go to war, we would suffer more than anyone else. And so they decided that the two countries needed someone else to fight. The King at that time had two sons. The older brother led the armies while the younger brother worked hard to help the economy prosper. The King and both sons understood that they needed something to change in order to both keep our country from going to war with the neighboring countries while simultaneously keeping our kingdom out of a financial hole…
“That’s when the older son of the King had an idea. At the time, there was a massive amount of unclaimed land to the south of all three countries, ruled by monsters and demons. The older son knew that if something or someone were to rise up in that land to strike at the other countries, then there would be a common enemy to fight…a few months later, the older son was killed during an expedition into that land, and not too long after that, the Demon King rose to power.”
Kou’s eyes began to widen once again at the implications of Lucy’s story and his sword dropped to the ground with a loud clang as he stared up at the woman before him. She slowly looked back at the hero, her face red from crying as she clasped her hands in front of her.
“But the last Demon King. My own father…the generals that served under him deemed him unfit to lead and killed him. Afterwards, they began to ravage the lands beyond the territory of this land. But now…”
“I killed them…”
Lucy nodded in response to Kou’s answer. Then slowly, Lucy began to walk towards the hero.
“Kou…I won’t ever make you do something against your will, but the Demon King’s throne is empty. For the sake of the prosperity of our country, our home…will you play the part?”
Lucy knelt before Kou when she reached him, picking up the hero’s sword and holding it out for him to take.
Kou’s eyes drifted from his companion to the sword she now held. He stared at the sword for what felt like an eternity as his brain swam, searching for an answer.
“Lu…”
Kou grasped the hilt of his sword once again, his eyes now resolute.
| 2018-01-23T23:07:13 | 2018-01-23T22:25:44 | 39 | 13 |
[WP] In a world of superheroes and super villains, you and a bunch of friends are watching the Superbowl. When a villain attacks the stadium all your friends suddenly start making excuses to leave. | "Well I'm off" *She kisses me and gets up.* "Come on Daisy! Every time?" *Yes Leo, every time.* "You know how I feel about this, guys. They should stop broadcasting when something like this happens. I, for one will certainly not watch!" *And the dance begins.* "Well we'll see you tomorrow though, right?", Jemma asks. "Yes, ofcourse." Daisy answers before the door closes behind her.
*It is quite an ingenious ruse, really. Well it was, the first three times at least. Any moment now Jemma's or Leo's phone will ring, with a family emergency on the other end of the line.*
"I'm sorry, but I have to leave. That was my mother." Jemma get's up to get her coat. *And ofcourse Jemma and Leo always come as a couple.* "Leo?" she inquires, turning to her significant other. "Yes, ofcourse! Sorry, lad." At last, he also gets up and prepares to leave.
Now that I am alone, I can start to clean up. *But first…* I turn to the TV, where you can currently see a hooded figure holding the entire Superbowl hostage. *It is truly remarkable, that they still use the same trick to get away when they need to beat up a bad guy. That only shows the regard they hold for my Intelligence*
Two hours later, after reviewing how the hooded figure made its escape from my friends, I arrive at the stadium.
*Timetravel truly is the perfect power, when your best friends also happen to be your mortal enemies.*
Edit: grammar and sentence structure for better understanding | It had all been going marvelously until half time.
"Look, Johnny I have to, um, go." Hannah waved vaguely at the door, even as her eyes stayed glued to the screen.
"Yeah, um," Bob rose from the beanbag he was engulfed in. "I too have to go. Um, Vet's appointment." He grinned weakly as his eyes locked on the Superbowl events.
"Aye, us too." Geoff and Sarah were shuffling to the door.
I frowned, glancing at the screen. Just as the whistle had gone for half time, a figure had rocketed onto the pitch. Cackling maniacally, Doctor Terror flew around the stadium, bringing terror to the advertisers and relief to the bored audience. It had been a tedious game, and a Supervillain was a welcome change of pace. Strange then, that they would all want to leave.
As they all moved to the door, the camera focused on the Villain, who checked his watch.
Wait a second... that watch was very familiar.
"Stop!" The group froze, half out the door. I turned and smiled at them. "You don't want to leave when it's just getting good. Besides, I have pizza." As they hesitated, I walked to the door and closed it. "I insist, Phaser, Captain Creator, Angelic, Slick and Bob."
Shuffling their feet, the heroes ummed and ahhed before sitting down in an uncomfortable silence as the Supervillain flailed onscreen.
Bob broke it. "So, the pizza...?"
"Oh, yes. Nearly forgot." I pulled out my phone and rang.
On the pitch, the Villain froze, before sheepishly pulling out a communicator.
"Hello, brother." Doctor Terror flinched from his screen as I spoke calmly.
"Bro! I was just about to..."
"Continue to threaten the crowd?" I glared at the screen. "When you're done fooling around, you can grab six pizzas on the way back." The villain's head drooped.
"Ok, bro."
"And if you're that bored," I turned, staring at the shame-faced friends, "instead of sneaking out to cause chaos and instigate a battle with the Hero League, we can put something else on." I paused. "Or, you know, threaten the teams into playing another game. Your choice." | 2018-01-27T11:10:35 | 2018-01-27T09:00:51 | 269 | 199 |
[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war. | "You want us to go to war?" the Terran ambassador had asked incredulously, "After trapping us here in the Quad Systems for a thousand years. You expect to let loose our leashes and like dogs chase down your hated enemies?"
"We do," the Gallius Union Envoy Drone had said, "We will drop the FTL disablers surrounding your quadrant. We have tens of thousands of freighters with supplies waiting to skip in and provide you with whatever you need to build an armada. You must stop them or they will kill us all. You will be given one year to destroy them and then you will return."
"Return to our prison?" the ambassador's asked spitefully.
"Return to the safety of the sanctuary we provide for you," the drone droned,"Remember, the vote was tied on whether to quarantine or destroy you. It is by the mercy of the Gallius species'
single vote that you still exist."
"For that you have our gratitude," the ambassador said truthfully, "We shall remember what you did."
The excitement that spread around the Quad systems at the news was tangible. True to their word, a week later the FTL disablers were put offline and the drone piloted freighters skipped out of FTL into the systems eagerly awaiting them. Then the disablers went back up as the Terrans went to work building their armada.
"How many got out?" the President of the War Union asked the ambassador as they received news of the FTL disablers trapping humanity again.
"500 Heavy Carriers, 6,000 Battle Cruisers, 20,000 destroyers, and 100,000 scouts," the ambassador smiled, "They should have known we wouldn't just sit here helplessly. We would have figured a way around the disablers eventually and had a fleet prepared for that day. This Magellanic Cloud invasion just sped things up a few decades is all."
"No signs of detection?" the President asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We've had their encryption broken for a decade and are monitoring their military channels and there is nary a peep," the answer made the President smile, "It will get lively enough when the FTL disablers are taken offline and let us out for good. Plus the fools gave us enough supplies to build another fleet."
"So we'll finally conquer the galaxy that imprisoned us," the President said hopefully, "and humanity will take its rightful place. What of the Gallius? They did keep us alive."
"We'll give those damned machines a choice, join us or die," the ambassador smiled, "I bet I know which way they'll vote."
"And the threat from the Cloud?" the President asked, genuinely concerned.
"I pity them," the ambassador sighed, "Whatever they are, those poor things have no one to ask for help. They have no idea we're coming and we're bringing the fires of Hell with us."
| My ancestors were granted peace. This is the lesson taught aboard our Generational Tanker Class IV. There was a time when humanity's highest leaders were rulers of mere countries. Then, the Xulians descended from seven folds of spacetime in ships of crystal and glass. They beckoned with spidery limbs, saying simply: "Your time has come."
As a kid, I found that so funny. Not that they presumed we would know what they meant--they made the threat of the Magellanic invasion quite clear afterwards--no, I found it funny that humans would have needed help to begin with. As a member of the third generation, my teachers detailed the terraforming efforts of our initial solar system. How we organized a universal system of government. They paced across the schoolroom and explained the advantage of our reproductive rates as it pertains to the Almighty War. I was a good student--I paid attention closely. But during each Xulian history lesson, I couldn't help but scoff.
"We are aboard a FTL vessel thanks to the Xulians, young man," my instructor had reprimanded once.
"Yes ma'am," I'd said, feigning embarrassment. Always, I was thinking: *But how is it we never figured it out on our own?*
Outside the window in my captain's quarters, our Xulian escorts zoom through space dust. They check in every night to reaffirm our mission. Beyond them, the stars bleed into darkness. I pretend they are my grandfather's eyes, winking. He had wrinkled hands that smelled like almond butter. I'd smell them whenever he'd pat my cheek, saying something so similar to the Xulians, all those years ago: "Your time will come."
He was referring to the timer displayed in the mess hall. It's the estimated time before arriving in the Magellanic galaxy. The estimated time before we deliver our payload. I look at it every morning with my ration of coffee. The crewhands amble by to load up on eggs and bacon before their drills. They chatter nervously. Some hardly pick at their food. We are all a bit antsy. The timer's nearly at zero.
With each second it ticks closer, I think back on what I have truly learned. When the Xulians arrived, our Generational Tankers were constructed. Countries volunteered vast swaths of desert as launch sites. We settled our solar system. And then beyond. A universal electorate was established. Internal wars ceased to exist. They're now classified as ancient history. All because humanity had been presented with a higher enemy--a universal threat--and it had established common moral ground.
In the end, peace was only attainable through war.
When our mess hall timer hits zero, and we arrive in the Magellanic galaxy, we'll deliver our payload. The Magellanic galaxy will burn, and the Xulians will dance on their enemy's graves. But, they have been so focused on defense that, even when victory is at hand, they have not even bothered to ask: what *next*?
I am loyal to my own race. A race that was held back and caged, as if mere dogs. It is only natural that in the past we snarled at one another. But now, without a squirrel to chase, what will we be left to do?
The Xulians will celebrate, but instead I will give the orders to turn-about. Our second payload will be prepped and ready to fire. My deckhands have been practicing the maneuver for years on end. For a moment, I imagine the Xulian escorts will attempt to broach comms.
"What are you doing?" they might ask. "The enemy is vanquished."
I'll tell them all I have learned.
"Peace is only attainable through war."
And a new war will be born.
___________
r/M0Zark | 2018-04-11T10:00:58 | 2018-04-11T07:48:36 | 766 | 519 |
[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war. | "You want us to go to war?" the Terran ambassador had asked incredulously, "After trapping us here in the Quad Systems for a thousand years. You expect to let loose our leashes and like dogs chase down your hated enemies?"
"We do," the Gallius Union Envoy Drone had said, "We will drop the FTL disablers surrounding your quadrant. We have tens of thousands of freighters with supplies waiting to skip in and provide you with whatever you need to build an armada. You must stop them or they will kill us all. You will be given one year to destroy them and then you will return."
"Return to our prison?" the ambassador's asked spitefully.
"Return to the safety of the sanctuary we provide for you," the drone droned,"Remember, the vote was tied on whether to quarantine or destroy you. It is by the mercy of the Gallius species'
single vote that you still exist."
"For that you have our gratitude," the ambassador said truthfully, "We shall remember what you did."
The excitement that spread around the Quad systems at the news was tangible. True to their word, a week later the FTL disablers were put offline and the drone piloted freighters skipped out of FTL into the systems eagerly awaiting them. Then the disablers went back up as the Terrans went to work building their armada.
"How many got out?" the President of the War Union asked the ambassador as they received news of the FTL disablers trapping humanity again.
"500 Heavy Carriers, 6,000 Battle Cruisers, 20,000 destroyers, and 100,000 scouts," the ambassador smiled, "They should have known we wouldn't just sit here helplessly. We would have figured a way around the disablers eventually and had a fleet prepared for that day. This Magellanic Cloud invasion just sped things up a few decades is all."
"No signs of detection?" the President asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We've had their encryption broken for a decade and are monitoring their military channels and there is nary a peep," the answer made the President smile, "It will get lively enough when the FTL disablers are taken offline and let us out for good. Plus the fools gave us enough supplies to build another fleet."
"So we'll finally conquer the galaxy that imprisoned us," the President said hopefully, "and humanity will take its rightful place. What of the Gallius? They did keep us alive."
"We'll give those damned machines a choice, join us or die," the ambassador smiled, "I bet I know which way they'll vote."
"And the threat from the Cloud?" the President asked, genuinely concerned.
"I pity them," the ambassador sighed, "Whatever they are, those poor things have no one to ask for help. They have no idea we're coming and we're bringing the fires of Hell with us."
| ######[](#dropcap)
They came from beyond the galactic rim, past the chaotic energies which bound the Milky Way, denizens of true emptiness, the noplace in the cracks between nowhere.
The Galactic council sent an overwhelming force to destroy them. Ships of the dominant races in the galaxy: Trylixian Spheres brimming with antimatter cannons; the Draconias, cruisers of the Loloth people, lithe and studded with gravity well generators and non-nucleic explosives; and the fell war machines of the Hiddrell race, each larger than a small moon, each unique and grown on a biogrid on the Hiddrell homeworld, covered in every manner of non-nucleic weaponry.
A galactic war fleet, larger than any seen in the history of the Galactic Federation, thousands upon thousands of ships, met the alien invaders at the far edge of the galaxy. In orbit around an unnamed red dwarf star, where the enemy had begun mobilizing their forces, the fleets met.
A battle ensued, known now as the First Battle of the Great War, or the Battle Of Broken Pride. It was a slaughter, the ships of the Federation falling in droves to a class of nucleic weapons long since banned from the Milky Way galaxy by species who deemed them unecessary and overly dangerous, never considering that a force from the greater universe would ever appear.
Fusion weapons of epic scale and overwhelming power wiped out dozens of vessels at a time, vaporizing them in concurrent wave after wave of nuclear detonation. When the galactic ships could fire, their weapons caused damage, but the fierce, ceaseless nuclear barrage of the enemy was too much, their radiation scarred and mishapen ships spewing missiles with machinegun speed.
It is said of the Battle of Broken Pride that for the 34 hours of fighting, it appeared to outside observers as though a second star had exploded into existence beside the red dwarf, consuming the Federation fleet in an unbroken blaze of light.
By battle's end, fewer than a dozen Federation ships hobbled from the star system. The enemy hunted down 11 of them, and only the final ship, "Glory of Loll", a Loloth cruiser propelled to ultra-luminal speed by the folding of spacetime - a technology mastered only by the Loloths - survived the battle.
The Loloth Commander learned from their escape. It appeared the invaders did not have the capacity for ultra-luminal speeds, which meant the Galactic Core systems would have at least a millenium before the enemy arrived, almost no time at all.
Faced with an impossible choice, the Loloth Commander followed its instinct and, instead of setting a course for the Galactic Core, it set a course for a little known system on the spiral arm of the galaxy.
The place was home to the most dangerous species previously known to the Galactic Council - a species so fearsome, so bloodthirsty, that the council had wiped them from the public zeitgeist.
By edict of the council, their entire solar system had been contained by a ring of Loloth gravity wells - a sphere of impassable black holes, created at impossible cost, over the course of ten thousand years.
No member of the Federation had entered the system or communicated with its occupants, in eons.
In the face of an unbeatable foe, the Commander of the Loloth vessel made his choice, and set a course for the planet Earth.
*****
##### Part 2 - Jail Break
##### Part 3 - The Human Virus
##### Part 4 - The Grand Flotilla
##### Part 5 - The Great Purge
##### Part 6 - The Great Betrayal
##### Autopsy Report - Kra Combatant
*****
##### For More Legends From The Multiverse
##### r/LFTM | 2018-04-11T10:00:58 | 2018-04-11T08:00:13 | 766 | 132 |
[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war. | "You want us to go to war?" the Terran ambassador had asked incredulously, "After trapping us here in the Quad Systems for a thousand years. You expect to let loose our leashes and like dogs chase down your hated enemies?"
"We do," the Gallius Union Envoy Drone had said, "We will drop the FTL disablers surrounding your quadrant. We have tens of thousands of freighters with supplies waiting to skip in and provide you with whatever you need to build an armada. You must stop them or they will kill us all. You will be given one year to destroy them and then you will return."
"Return to our prison?" the ambassador's asked spitefully.
"Return to the safety of the sanctuary we provide for you," the drone droned,"Remember, the vote was tied on whether to quarantine or destroy you. It is by the mercy of the Gallius species'
single vote that you still exist."
"For that you have our gratitude," the ambassador said truthfully, "We shall remember what you did."
The excitement that spread around the Quad systems at the news was tangible. True to their word, a week later the FTL disablers were put offline and the drone piloted freighters skipped out of FTL into the systems eagerly awaiting them. Then the disablers went back up as the Terrans went to work building their armada.
"How many got out?" the President of the War Union asked the ambassador as they received news of the FTL disablers trapping humanity again.
"500 Heavy Carriers, 6,000 Battle Cruisers, 20,000 destroyers, and 100,000 scouts," the ambassador smiled, "They should have known we wouldn't just sit here helplessly. We would have figured a way around the disablers eventually and had a fleet prepared for that day. This Magellanic Cloud invasion just sped things up a few decades is all."
"No signs of detection?" the President asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We've had their encryption broken for a decade and are monitoring their military channels and there is nary a peep," the answer made the President smile, "It will get lively enough when the FTL disablers are taken offline and let us out for good. Plus the fools gave us enough supplies to build another fleet."
"So we'll finally conquer the galaxy that imprisoned us," the President said hopefully, "and humanity will take its rightful place. What of the Gallius? They did keep us alive."
"We'll give those damned machines a choice, join us or die," the ambassador smiled, "I bet I know which way they'll vote."
"And the threat from the Cloud?" the President asked, genuinely concerned.
"I pity them," the ambassador sighed, "Whatever they are, those poor things have no one to ask for help. They have no idea we're coming and we're bringing the fires of Hell with us."
| "Captain on the bridge!" shouted Hector Banks, head of security for the Armstrong.
Ophelia Levitan stepped through the white-door and into the only Milky Way class vessel that the Solaris Alliance had so far completed. It was certainly a step up from the first ship she'd boarded, back when she'd been only a child. An evacuation shuttle taking her away from Ganymede, as war had swept over even those isolated moons.
Ganymede has been destroyed. There was nothing left but an asteroid belt where it had once been, and a commemorative satellite for the eighty million dead. No trace of any bodies had ever been found. Not of her parents or her brother. They'd been too old, their jobs too unimportant.
"At ease," commanded Ophelia, raising a hand. The crew looked at each other, their faces taught with confusion. Then, one by one, they slowly sunk into their seats.
They were nervous. Rightfully so too, Ophelia knew. The first real test run of ancient alien tech, held and then given to them as a bargaining chip, to join a war that the Jit'ux were clearly losing.
Humans had not settled for only the engine technology. *Naturally*. When they realised the Jit'ux were so desperate, that they would do anything, they twisted their arm for further advances.
What choice had the aliens had? Either they gave us the technology we demanded, or they were made extinct.
Ophelia looked over her crew. Her navigator, Hezekiah Sharp, was clearly Mecurian born. His skin was covered in, what at first glance appeared to be tattoos, but was in reality heat reflecting nano-metal. It gave him an iridescent shine whenever he swivelled on his seat beneath the spot lights.
Kit Lawson sat at the weapon control panel. The power of a hundred thousand neo-nukes rested beneath her fingers. Could she be trusted with that responsibility? Her test scores were by far the highest in her class, but out on the field... could she destroy a city, if push came to shove? A world? Personally, Ophelia would have picked someone with more experience, but that hadn't been her call.
"Ma'am," said Alexzander Brice, communications officer. "Should I inform Earth that we're ready to leave orbit?"
Ophelia said nothing, instead walking across to her seat. She sunk down into it. The leather was soft and plush and cold beneath her. She clicked her neck.
"Is our guest on board?"
"He -- its -- in the brig, as requested," said Hector. "But speaking freely, I don't think the Jit'ux deserve that level of distrust, Ma'am."
"I didn't grant you permission to speak freely."
Hector opened his mouth to object, then closed it again. Good, he'd heard of her. He would take her seriously.
They'd all need to obey her unflinchingly, if they were to have any chance of succeeding in what appeared to be a suicide mission. First contact with an ultra aggressive, ravenous for war, alien species. Not so unlike humanity, Ophelia mused. Only, up to now we hadn't had the tech to do any serious damage beyond our own system.
"Miss Brice. Tell command we are ready to leave dock."
"Uh, yes Ma'am."
The pull of the ship as it left the bay thrust Ophelia back against her chair. It was a pleasing feeling.
The Jit'ux had no idea what they had released on the universe.
But Ophelia new. And she a smile crept over her lips at the thought.
They would be the saviour of the Jit'ux.
For now.
| 2018-04-11T10:00:58 | 2018-04-11T08:24:15 | 766 | 10 |
[WP] You are the first man on Mars to explore a previously unknown cave. The camera feed is able to still reach earth, but with a 20 minute delay. Your crew back on Earth start frantically shouting to go back. | Twenty minutes is a long time when you're waiting for a reply. When you're trapped, and you're scared, and the light on your suit has failed because something something something banged into it where nothing nothing nothing had been a moment before.
A couple of seconds is a very short time except when that's how long it took for whatever banged you to appear and move past. It was lit, where nothing should be lit, and so you closed your eyes and missed it.
Twenty minutes of good. Twenty minutes of bad. Twenty minutes of scared chatter from your end, and inane pointers on the structure of the cave from their end, because they hadn't seen it yet. Twenty minutes of hope. Twenty minutes of fear.
And twenty minutes later, when that time has become a dark eternity of loneliness, they tell you to go back, because what they'd seen had been another crew member, and your heart lifts and you head back, but twenty seconds later it falls again when they say his name: Matthews. Your name. And the lights come back to feed.
| *Private Richard*: “Yknow it really is a bad idea for me to be going down here with a 20 minute delay, I just kinda figure that if y’all see something wrong and I need to dip I’ll probably be really messed up or dead by the time your message gets back to me.”
*Private Richard*: “I like all of these cool rocks, that’s why I took the job in the first place yknow. I really do love rocks and it’s been my dream to touch rocks no man has touched before... Nah, I’m just kidding, that’d be pretty dumb huh. I swear, I’m kidding, haha.”
*Private Richard*: “Yo there’s some weird rocks over here I think I’m gonna touch them. I mean I guess you can see that I’m touching them, I just thought I’d tell you.”
*Private Richard*: “Hey I’m starting to feel kinda funny, and my gloves aren’t looking to hot where I touched those rocks.”
*Mission Control*: “Do not touch more of those rocks, I repeat, do not touch more of those rocks. Immediate exfil advised.”
*Private Richard*: “Sure, in one second, I thought I saw some movement up ahead that I wanted to check out.”
*Private Richard*: “I don’t know where whatever that was went, I’m going to look around a bit more.”
*Mission Control*: “DO NOT investigate movement. Return to base immediately.”
*Private Richard*: “Awwww, shieeee-“
\~Two loud blasts are heard, accompanied by green flashes of light on the video feed. The video feed goes dark and the transmission cuts out.\~
*Mission Control*: “Come in commander, come in ASAP. Confirm message as received.”
Saw the prompt and figured I might try it out. On mobile, formatting probably sucks (sorry) and never written before. I wasn’t taking it too seriously, but any feedback is welcome.
EDIT: Fixed some stuff, added a couple words I missed the first time through | 2018-08-12T03:12:30 | 2018-08-11T22:32:30 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] A genie asks to hear your 3 wishes before granting then. Afterwards, he informs you that those wishes will be saved for his next master and you'll now receive the wishes of the previous master. | "The previous' owner's first wish was for world peace" the genie said.
"Oh," I muttered. "I was hoping for some cash. but I guess the previous owner was a humanitarian, huh? I guess it's good for the world though."
The genie nodded, "Very good for the world indeed. I was more than happy to grant that wish."
"The second wish," the pale, smokey figure with burning eyes continued, "was for 100 million dollars."
"Sweet! Thank you previous owner!" I cheered as a bag of cash appeared at my feet. Unzipping the black duffel revealed stacks of $100 dollar bills. I couldn't help but laugh with joy. My first wish had only been for a million dollars. 100 million was way better.
"The third wish," the genie continued, "was to become the most beautiful person in the world."
"Awesome!" I looked down at myself, expecting my muscles to fill out and to grow several inches taller. Nothing happened.
After a bit of disappointment (I still had 100 million dollars, so not TOO much disappointment), a thought occurred to me.
"Are you saying I'm actually already the most beautiful person in the world? Or that beauty was inside me all along?"
"No" the whips smoke replied, "In order to create world peace, I had to eliminate all things which might fight with my master, or with each other."
I hugged my bag of money to my chest a bit tighter, trying to understand.
"You are the only human left alive in the world, so you are the most beautiful by default. Have fun with your paper money, I'm sure it will serve you well." | "Three wishes? Anything I want?" The genie grinned and nodded, a twinkle in his eye. I take a few moments to think. The genie lounged on my couch, looking over my worldly possessions. He seemed amused by the television.
"Do you have any suggestions?" I ask the being, startling him out of his first opportunity to watch kittens have a lightsaber battle. He looked at me like he was only just seeing me.
"You are asking me.... What exactly? Are you asking what I would wish for? Fucking Disney movies....." He said, shifting in irritation. I held up my hands to stop him. He glared at me.
"Stop. I was curious. Sorry if I pissed you off.... Seriously, it wasn't my intention." The genie barked a short laugh.
"I don't care about intention. All I care about is giving the wishes due and getting back into my little gemstone. Human beings are...... Look, you guys are stupid as shit, so I would like to limit how much I interact with you."
It was hard not to take the genie's distain personally. "Fine. 1) I wish that people's bad intentions were written across their foreheads. 2) I wish I had wealth. 3) I wish you weren't a condescending asshole."
The genie sighed and stood. "Unfortunately, you didn't ask HOW this works. So, I'm going to educate you WHY humans are stupid as shit. Ok? You make your wishes, but you don't get YOUR wishes. The next walking, talking excuse for an intelligent species does. You, however, get your predicessor's wishes. So.... Here we go."
The genie wiggled his fingers and my breasts strained against my bra. The clasps finally gave out and ripped free. My D-cups were now comically huge. Like unrealistically large breasts that you see in videogames.
The genie then winked and it started to rain..... Beer. It was raining beer from the sky. The smell was pervasive. I was like someone had spilled a collosal keg and decided not to stem the tide.
The genie then snapped his fingers and a duffle bag full of $1 bills appeared at my feet. The genie's grin widened as he spoke. "In your case, the person before you wished for all women to have huge tits, for all water to turn to beer, and to always have an ample supply of $1 bills to stuff into stripper G-strings.
I started to cuss like sailor as the genie vanished....taking my television with him.
| 2018-10-13T11:37:37 | 2018-10-13T11:13:51 | 536 | 107 |
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time. | Half an hour.
I had half an hour to get to class.
I dashed through the rooms of my home, seeking for my gas mask. Without it and my special suit, I would reach the university a melting skeleton.
Fortune embraced me. Or perhaps it was the fact that my home had only two rooms, and I had little to no furniture. And so, finding both my mask and suit was as easy as finding barren lands.
I dressed up, left home, and drew a deep breath. The wasteland separating home from the University breathed before me. There was no life in it, only aridity, fissures and green fumes billowing and wavering like a dense, endless fog.
I walked gingerly through it, lest the sound of my feet touching the surface awakened the Underdormants.In the University they had taught us that the only weakness those creatures had, was their reach. If you managed to climb onto its back, it could never touch you. We'd had trained to fight them in simulations, but none ever killed one, we barely managed to last longer alive, hoping for a miracle.
Step by step I went, heart pounding. If something happened in the beginning or the end portion of the wasteland, I could ran back to the safety of my home or university.
The issue was in the middle portion, where I was standing right now. For if I awakened an Underdormant, I would have to fight it, and I only had an old, scimitar full of rust to do--.
The ground trembled ferociously. I reeled, groping the air, flailing my arms aimlessly in a poor attempt to balance myself. I struck the floor, fissuring the brittle surface.
A deafening racket of cracks and creaks boomed beneath me. I scrambled to my feet, and barreled toward the university; but the quivering turned overwhelming, and I lost my balance once again.
There was a shattering noise, followed by a diabolical screech. And soon, a shadow loomed over me. I turned.
The Underdormant was gazing at me. His entire albino, scorpion-like body was out the surface.
It had sharp, curling fangs full of a vibrant green poison; eight thin, yet stone-hard legs, and a face with twenty black, unblinking eyes. It was the size of a small building, lithe as a cat, wicked as a demon, ravenous as a lion.
There was a brief moment in which I thought it wouldn't eat me, but it was no more than the fantasy of a dead man.
It scuttered at lightning-quick speed toward me. I unsheathed my scimitar. My hands trembled, but I braced myself. If I would die, I'd at least put up a fight.
The Underdormant sprung. My eyes widened. My heart dropped to the hollow of my stomach.
In its zenith, the Underdormant blocked the sun. It became a shadow, falling like a meteorite of darkness. I rolled forward desperately, barely avoiding getting crushed and stabbed by all its blade-sharp legs.
I turned. It has his back turned toward me. It was my opportunity. I threw my sword and sprung, gripping myself to one of its hind legs. I clambered as the monster spun and spun, attempting to find me, but failing to do so. It thrashed, flailing the leg I was holding onto.
But falling would mean death, and so I hugged that leg as if it was my deceased mother.
Soon, it stopped, and shrieked. I climbed and climbed, until I managed to reach the Underdormants back. There, I buried my fingers inside the cracks of its carapace.
The monster lunged again, turning midair so that it would fall on its back, making crimsn pureé out me. Desperately, I switched my grip to two cracks at the rim of its body. Holding onto them only by my fingertips, while my body dangled in the air.
As we neared the ground, I lifted my legs in a quick, violent motion to the monster's carapace, pushing myself far away from it, to the empty air.
The landing was terribly harsh. I heard the inner cracks of bones breaking. I was numb, dizzy and lost but still alive.
But the Underdormant's shadow loomed over me again. Screeching, shrieking madly.
I was a dead man--.
The monster collapsed, striking the ground beside me. What had happened?
There was a sea of muted voices around me.
I struggled to turn, but managed to do so.
The University was there, a hundred students with guns in their hands were coming toward me.
They took me to the safety of the nursery.
I breathed.
Just like any other morning.
-------------
/r/NoahElowyn
| The road stretched endlessly in front of Ellie like the broken bones of a long dead God. Jagged, uneven and most of all, forgotten. To the road's right lay the carcass of an ultra-city, its once-magnificence thoroughly wilted to hollowed out ruins. To its distant left, a violet lake churned against the shore. It must have been beautiful, once, Ellie thought. But beauty had no place in this world.
Not anymore.
She turned and looked behind her. Her father was halfway down the hill already, even with his limp. This had been as far as he could take her -- he had other responsibilities to see to. Now she was left with a cold metal pistol in her right hand, and a bullet of anxiety wedged into her stomach.
Something hard nudged her leg. "We have to go, Ellie, or you'll be late for your first day."
The rusted home-made robot rose only as far as her knee. Most of its parts had been a gift from her older sister, Juliet, on her eleventh birthday. Being a savager had its perks, and for a long time, Ellie had thought it's what she'd become, too.
Chip rolled past her, its treads printing themselves onto the dusty ground. It paused, then turned its body awkwardly. "Ellie, please," it repeated. Its voice remained monotonous and empty of emotion, but the cracked screen on its face showed two round dots and a wavy, concerned mouth beneath.
She took a deep breath. "I'm not sure I can do this, Chip."
The curvy line on the robot's face stretched flat, then slightly upward at the corners. "Once we make it past the city, we'll almost be there. It's really not far."
"No, I mean, I'm not sure I can do this *every day.*"
The robot's head tilted to its copper shoulder. "Isn't it worth it?"
Ellie kicked at the dust. "How do I know? I've never been there! I can learn whatever they can teach from books that Julie finds and from-- well, from other places." She sighed. If it wasn't for her mom sending off her application--behind her back!--then she wouldn't be in this stupid position.
"She did it for you, Ellie," said Chip, reading her face as if it was her mind itself. "You have potential that none of her other children have. She wants you to reach it, fully. That's all. Kalilko University will help you. It is a a new tool for you."
She shrugged her backpack feeling its weight against her shoulders. Chip was right. As usual. And thinking of it as a tool suddenly didn't make it sound so bad.
Didn't make him any less annoying though.
She passed him by in two large strides.
"Well, what are you waiting for, rustbucket?"
The wavy line returned before Chip's tracks whirred into life. "Wait for me. Your father told me to stay with you."
"Then you'd better hurry!" she said with half a laugh, before bursting into a sprint.
---
Ellie had never been this close to the city. Hadn't been allowed. Her father's words up on the hill still echoed through her, as if she was a gong that wouldn't stop reverberating.
"Bad things make their home in bad places. Stick to the road, and you won't need to use this."
She had tried to steady her arms as she took the pistol from him, but they betrayed her. Her dad ruffled her hair. "You'll be fine. Make us proud."
A shudder ran through her as she looked at the nearest building. A carcass, bent and burned and broken. She couldn't see anything inside the darkness of the gaping, glassless windows. But that didn't mean there wasn't anything there.
"It's best not to look, Ellie."
"Relax. You couldn't pay me to go in there. I'm just... curious, you know?"
"I know where your curiosity always leads."
She rolled her eyes. "Not always."
An odour washed over the road, as if it was a wave from the lake. Chemicals that she could taste on her tongue. Remnants of bombs and bodies and the types of warfare people thought would never be used. But the air was redolent of their naivety. And of their rotting bodies.
The city seemed to grow as they ventured farther along the road. The buildings, what remained of them, now towered far into the sky. Metal beams bent over, leering at the road, watching the travellers pass.
For a moment, Ellie thought it was one of the buildings itself that was screaming at her.
Then, as she felt the impact, she realised it had been a bullet.
She crumpled onto the ground, her head facing the city. The gun lay next to her. Near to her, but out of reach of her unresponsive body.
Chip was trying to say something, his mouth was pursed wide, his green visual now a bright red. But there was only silence ringing in Ellie's ears.
She saw the three figures as they walked out of the cover of darkness. Out of a gaping maw in a nearby structure.
They looked happy.
Why were they happy?
Chip was in front of her now, his tiny right arm had flipped open a feather-sized blade.
A boot sent him rolling somewhere behind Ellie. A bullet followed.
Ellie wanted to turn, to find him. The robot she had created. Repaired a hundred times. Had loved, in a way, she realised.
But her body refused her heart's request.
She barely felt the rope as it bit into her wrists and ankles.
| 2018-12-14T06:49:51 | 2018-12-14T06:08:40 | 158 | 36 |
[WP] You wear magic dampening bands normally reserved for keeping criminals from casting spells. Why? Because your spells are ludicrously more powerful than average, and the bands limit you enough to not break everything. | After a couple of years I got used to the contemptuous looks because of the giant obsidian collar and handcuffs. They were made to draw attention, but I think they are beautiful in their own way. They are relatively thin but wide pieces, carved from a single monolith of obsidian for maximum effect. They don't really have a color, its like there is a tear in the space-time: no shine, almost no shape to comprehend. Usually the pieces are worn by criminals to dampen their magic powers. The single-carved ones were worn only by 3 in existence:
Scarlet Fechrint, The Flame-princess, Dmitry Mihlakov, The Powerful, and Eric Takumi, The Butcher.
All notorious criminals whose magic power far exceeded everyone elses by orders of magnitudes. They used them to for no good.
Now, the fourth one is on me but let's talk before you jump into conclusions:
It all started when they discovered I have magic powers. It wasn't uncommon, around 5 percent of the population can wield magic. The problem started when they tried to teach me how to use them. The most basic lesson is lifting a softball from our desk at school, but when I tried it I accidentally lifted the entire school up.
From that time I was constantly monitored and checked. Luckily they didn't make the same mistake like with Mihlakov, and advised my parents to move to a rural area where specialist can teach me more safely. They even provided foundings to start our new life. As the years went by, I became one of the most well trained magician ever to live but most of the training was focused on precision.
This precision is the hardest of all. Like trying to make scrambled eggs with an excavator. I did my best and eventually I even managed to butter a toast, but to further lower the risks, they made me wear the collars.
I really hated them at first but I straight up love them now. I was allowed to modify them and now they look more like a jewelry than a prison sentence. I still need special license to travel because criminals are monitored. No matter that I'm not one, I'm still being stopped regularly.
However there is a bright side to the powers as well. They sometimes invite me to universities to talk about my powers and experiences, I even got a part-time job at the Magistratus Maximus. But I really don't like talking, I rather use my magic. Luckily, I'm allowed to take them off sometime.
But what can a monster like me do as a living?
I am on working at the docks, hauling containers. To be precise, I haul all of them at the same time. Its truly magnificent to watch hundreds of thousands of containers weighing millions of tons doing pirouettes in the sky, only to arrive precisely at their destination.
After a long day, with my collar still on, I arrive home. I am really tired, so I head to the basement to open the vault. This vault is carved by a single obsidian with walls as thick as a meter. I secure the door and then unlock my collars.
The collars that bounds my very existence into this world. Without them, I am present everywhere and every time. Without them, I am Magic itself.
EDIT: Reformatting. | Beneath the eye of the moon, the hissing winds swept away the subtle grate of a window shrieking open. A moment later, a cloaked figure leaped out the narrow opening, and sprinted across the barren fields toward the desolate streets of the city.
The figure moved with an odd determination, disregarding the strength of the currents, as if they were naught but a summer breeze.
Soon, the tender lights of the hearths shifting out the windows and onto the streets illuminated the shadows beneath the cloak, revealing the figure's visage. He was a boy, with eyes red as fire, and hair the color of bone.
He went through bridges were the fog hung low, and alleys the moonlight feared, until he reached an alleyway where a column of piled pebbles blazed with green fire. Its light was dim, weak as that of a candle, but it was enough to etch the woman swathed in rags beside it.
She looked at him through eyes dark as the night. Her wrists were bound with ivory bands. "What pleasant surprises the winds bring," she said, and tilted her head. "I've been waiting for you boy."
The certainty in the boy's step faded. His cloak billowed with the gusts, yet the tremor of his extremities was visible in the rapid motions of his sleeves. He took a step back. "It was a mistake. I apologize."
"What was a mistake?" she said, and gestured for him to come closer. The boy didn't want to, but it was too late, for his legs were moving in their own volition. "Nothing is ever a mistake but the path fate chose for us."
The boy nodded. "I came, yes. I do not know why. I can't explain it. I wouldn't have come if I would've known you would be here. I thought you were imprisoned."
The woman chuckled, gazed at the fire-imbued pebbles. "You would have come either way, for I called you, and for that I apologize. It's not my intention to force you to carry a burden you never asked for. I do not know why is you who I had to call. The stars told me to, and they refuse to explain the reason behind their decision. But one thing you have to know, and that is that tonight I will leave, at last, this soil and this life."
"What?" the boy cried, gasping. "But you are Areneta, Fate-bender, Light of the Moon. You can't die. Even Death has admitted his fear of you."
"He did, yes," she said, and flaunter the bands on her wrists. "But times have changed. I limited myself to prevent a catastrophe. See, I don't think many minds can sustain my power without shattering, and I fret mine was on the verge of snapping. I had no choice, unfortunately. Death knows that, and so he will soon come, for with this bands I'm no opponent to his scythe." She drew a deep breath. "I'm fine with that. My time has come, yet one thing I have to give you before joining the stars."
"What is it?" the boy asked, swallowing hard. His lips quivered and cracked.
She handed him a thin book. "The secrets of my life, the secrets of my power, they are all written there. It's your time to shine now, Intanis. But always remember you have the choice. You can burn it, and risk turning the fate of all things. Or you can read it, and follow what it says, following the written fate of all things. It's your choice."
Intanis frowned, his heart thumped. "But--but I don't know about magic."
There was no answer. The pebbles extinguished, and the shadows engulfed the alley. Amidst them, only the book shone.
Intanis gazed at the stars. "Why?" he cried, and his hands reached for the book.
---------------------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn | 2019-01-06T14:11:45 | 2019-01-06T09:47:26 | 62 | 41 |
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King". | I was walking home one Winter night, doing the usual and reading out peoples titles in my head. Kevin Johannes - Dog Groomer, Susan Warren - Kickboxer, I passed a man and woman who's title indicated they were siblings, and who were getting a smidge to romantic with each other, I cringed. Then, sitting on the corner I saw The Forgotten King, I stopped in front of him staring at the words floating above his head. He was curled up just inside the opening of an alley clutching an odd choice for a change cup, it looked like aged bronze and very old.
After a few moments the old man rose his head and saw me looking at his cup, caught off guard my hand shot for my pocket and fumbled for some change, "Heh" the old man chuckled. "It's alright lad, I'm used to people starring, this is a strange thing for a man like me to have." "Where'd you get it?" I asked trying not to seem rude. The old man sighed "Over seas during the war....a very old war, I doubt you'd believe me if I told you which one...no matter, I'm supposed to give it to someone in Rome but I haven't been able to get it back to where It needs to go, so I'm sort of.. stuck, in a way until that happens."
I think to myself what he means by stuck, but I carry on my conversation. "Well I do travel a lot for work, maybe we can talk about it and I can probably help?" The old man stares at nothing for several seconds and focuses back on me. "You... you'd take this burd-..... I mean, cup from me?" Confused, I agree and the old man starts looking more relived than I've ever seen anyone. Fumbling over his words he stands up and shakes my hand. "My good Sir, you have no idea how long I have waited for someone like you to come along, what do they call you?" "I...uh, well my name is Lance" the old man scoffs but quickly tries to hide his reaction. "Ah...well Lance.... thank you for your offering to help me in my ques-.... endeavor. Meet me back here early tomorrow, there are a very specific set of instructions that are involved that I need to prepare." I agree and shake his hand again. As I start going back to my hotel I turn back around "Oh, I didn't get your name" the old man pauses ".....my name? I can't remember the last time I used it, it was... it is Arthur, yeah Arthur!" | Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get.
Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him!
"Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully
"Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers
"It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake
"I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man
"Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?"
"Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?"
"Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes."
"Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion
"Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered
"Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood
"But but, I thought the King was killed?"
"Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King
"Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired
"You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped
"Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?"
"MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud
"You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King
"Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
| 2019-01-08T14:54:13 | 2019-01-08T10:16:15 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] You are a State Necromancer, employed to temporarily ressurect the dead so they may bear witness in court. But on rare occasions you are asked to perform another role: Permanantly ressurecting prisoners who were executed and then later pardoned. But "pardoned" doesnt always equate to "innocent" | The cell door slides open. Without looking up, I know that Detective Haruko’s there.
“How is he?” I ask.
Her grimace is almost audible. “Well, he’s awake. Probably wishes he wasn’t, though. The family is thinking of euthanasia.”
She pauses.
“You could undo it, couldn’t you?”
I shrug. “Probably.”
“But no one else can. The family has already hired some professionals and they’re stumped.”
“Those are the resurrection rules. I didn’t make them. Everything that happens to him now is bonded to my magic and no one else’s.”
“You’ve put us in a very awkward position, then.”
“Really?” I look up at that. “*I* put *you* in an awkward position?”
“The law is the law,” she reminds me. “We don’t get to decide what rulings we follow and which ones we don’t.”
I roll my eyes. “The family wants to talk to me?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Yeah.”
“Tell them to go to hell. Their son will be waiting for them. That’s the only way they’re going to get him back at this point.”
“They’re willing to drop all charges of malpractice against you if you undo this.”
“Oh no. I’ll be disbarred.” I shrug. “Worth it.”
“They’re willing to give you a lot of money.”
I start laughing.
“What?” Haruko looks annoyed now.
“Did they just come out and say that? ‘Hey, fix our son and we’ll make you rich.’ Nah. Fuck them. They could hire the best lawyers and the best researchers. They can’t hire me.”
“This isn’t just about you!” Haruko snaps. “The whole department’s reputation could be riding on this.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t work for the department, then, isn’t it?” I spit back.
“We sign your paychecks. We offer you healthcare and dental. We subsidize your apartment. You work for us, you pretentious dick.”
“Listen,” I snarl, point my finger at her, “I don’t work for the department and I sure as hell don’t work for you. I work for the Church of Flawed Men.”
“You haven’t been to a service in years-”
“So I just stop being a believer? They taught me to do this. They’re the ones who made me a necromancer. And in exchange, I swore an oath. To see my powers used for the right reasons and the right people. To heal those whose lives have been unfairly stolen. I’m not a bellboy for people who are rich enough to think they can buy their way out of death.”
“You swore an oath to uphold the law, too. Does that one not count for you?”
I snicker. “The way I see it, I am upholding the law. I’m making sure a dangerous criminal stays away from civilized society.”
Haruko throws her hands up in exasperation. “They’re going to kill you for this, you know.”
“Oh, I know. Can’t have malfunctioning necromancers running around. Heaven knows what we’d get up to.”
“He was pardoned,” she reminds me desperately.
“Pardoned doesn’t mean innocent,” I reply. | "Okay...Alright I've got a pulse...maybe...Abigail, push two CC's epinephrine. Yup, okay there it is. See if you can hold that...nope, push push push." Claire gently brushed the dowsing rod back and forth from temple to temple, waiting for a twitch. She'd been at this over an hour and it was getting hard to tell what was from beyond and what was because of lactic acid. *There*. She closed the pattern around the spot on the forehead, looking for waypoints. A freckle, an ingrown hair. She bounced from one to the other, feeling for the ictus of life. "Cantor, the invocation if you please." Lead by the woman just behind the operating table a choir of six began an atonal fugue at a dirges deliberate pace. Clashing tones sliced at your sensibilities- where you wanted consonance there were dancing tritones. Where resolution was demanded only further uncertainty reigned. Claire tugged with the rod dragging at life's imperative. She felt it squirming, desperate to rest but awoken by the cacophony. "Alan...Al, please are we ready to shock?" Alan snapped the paddles on the sallow chest. "Okay... Synchronized at 118BPM...Clear!" The body leapt off the table, eyes cracking open. He lay there, taking long ragged breaths eyes searching the surroundings. Claire let the rod fall to the floor, exhausted. She leaned into him, a certain cruelty flashing in her eyes. "Mister Santropez. Welcome back."
She had taken a shower and a half hour in a steam room, and drank a gallon of electrolyte beverage. She was still short of breath and couldn't hold things effectively, but the lawyers were impatient. Two aides dressed her in traditional robes. She slipped the golden chain of grasping hands over her head, and went to see the fellow. He looked utterly despondent, leaning on against the wall of his bare cell. A hand idly touched the the deep lines and vicious bruises ringing his neck. Poor fellow should have known better. The lawyer looked at her. "Are you sure this was the correct decision? His trial was so close...one juror away from the death penalty." Claire shrugged. "Mark, let me put it this way. I'm a plumber. I don't tell you the sink is ugly as sin, I attach it to the wall and run the water. If you have a problem, you have the DA's phone number I'm sure. If it were my choice I'd hang up the chain and sleep for a hundred years, but that would just mean some poor acolyte would pick it up in an instant. Let's finish this, I'm famished."
She swept through the door, prompting him to scurry into a corner. "You've been quite a naughty boy, haven't you Mr. Santropez? The state of New South Wales sentenced you to one hundred and fifty years, did you think you could check out early?" She clicked her tongue chidingly. "I'm afraid this is going to make the remaining..." She looked at the lawyer's clipboard and arched her brows "seventy eight years rather...trying. No sheets, thick blankets, no utensils, no..." He screamed over her, cowering, making himself small. "I SAW THEM! Down there...in the pits...amongst the bodies, bodies, stacked like...like firewood! They were there telling me! Telling me! Please, please they're there, guilty! Guilty!" His voice was hoarse and labored. Claire shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid nothing makes it past the veil, Mr. Santropez. What you saw was a fever dream, endless and infinite concocted by your dying brain. But, that's a price I payed, and now you will pay the same one." She turned to leave, Mr. Santropez still gibbering behind her. She called to him, "Enjoy your stay!" | 2020-01-06T12:20:38 | 2020-01-06T07:55:29 | 383 | 80 |
[WP] Wizards are often depicted as being lone, reclusive researchers tinkering with new magics all alone in their towers for decades. However as the scientific process developed so too did the magical process, now wizards work in research teams, all spells are peer reviewed and papers are published | **Archibald the Prismatic** awoke from his four-hundred-year stone trance to find that the world had changed.
One moment, he had been whipping lightning across the sky, casting thunder upon the Basilisk…
...and the next, he found himself in standing in the center of his old Campus. Only, it had changed.
*A lot.*
He coughed up a lungful of dust. His joints cracked like hammers on bedrock.
To an outside observer, it appeared that the centerpiece statue of the College of Wizardry, which had been a fixture of the campus since it’s earliest days... had just come to life.
Archibald the Prismatic *was back.*
But the students who had just witnessed Archibald’s grand re-awakening merely shook their heads and went about their business.
Someone said, “Great. Another one?”
“Dibs, not it.” another student said, and the young men and women began to scatter, leaving books in their wake.
“You, sir!” Archibald pointed a finger at one student, a young lad with short, curly hair who had been too slow to run.
“I’m not a sir, *Sir*.” Her tone could cut through stone.
“Ah,” Archibald bowed, flakes of stun falling from his majestic beard, “My sincerest apologies. Tell me, where is the Grand Magus? I must speak with him immediately!”
“She.”
“What?”
“The Grand Magus is a woman.”
At that exact moment, a large piece of gravel dislodged from Archibald’s rock-bound throat and choked him, thus preventing him from saying the shameful words that first leaped to his mind.
The curly-haired woman looked around. All the other students were gone. She sighed.
“I’m Lou,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “Grand Magus Marianne says we should respect the elderly. So I guess I’ll help you find her.”
*The elderly!* Archibald was scandalized. But... his back was still a little stiff. And the joints in his knees had turned to some kind of limestone. So he took her hand, and together they walked down the central avenue of the Campus.
Towers loomed above, each one a majestic pinnacle to worship the stars. Their peaks were topped with miraculous spinning orbs and great crescent blades that tracked the orbits of the celestial bodies.
Back when Archibald had first come here, the College of Wizardry had been a ramshackle of wooden huts. And even then, it got burned down once or twice a week. To see what it had become now, truly the magic here must be *incredible*.
“Tell me, Lass.”
“My name is Lou.”
“Tell me, Lou. Your Grand Magus must be a very powerful sorcerer-”
“Sorceress.”
“-to have attained her level at the College. What all-powerful spell did she create to destroy the previous Grand Magus? Did she finally unlock the secrets of Alabazan’s Ever-consuming Hellfire? Or Squibbleworth’s Cantrip of Decay?”
“No. It was physics.”
“Physics? Ah, you must mean the Mighty Foot of Bargus!”
Lou stopped walking. Her face was scrunched in disbelief. “No. *Physics*. Like, all of it. The Grand Magus literally invented Magical Calculus.”
“Magical… what?”
“Forces and velocities and weights and gravity. It’s what all of us have come here to study. I’m writing a paper on Quantification Theory.”
*Quantification Theory?* Archibald thought. What boring drivel was that.
They passed by dozens of students, sitting on benches or cross-legged in the grass. All of them, pouring through textbooks. But instead of magical gesturing and eruptions of fire (and the occasional misfire), these students were … taking notes?
Archibald could feel it then. The blood-turned-sand in his veins began to liquefy once more. He was mad.
“What happened here!” he demanded. “When I was a young wizard, we were learning to conjure great gouts of flame! We held the passion of magic in our fingertips! I had mastery over the elements, do you hear? Ultimate mastery!”
“That’s not how I heard it.”
“Look at you now. Studying," he spat. "And writing papers.”
“Spells need careful tweaking and calculation. Last week, Professor Gundervild changed the amplitude of-”
“Magic is power incarnate, it is not meant to be tweaked! Magic is meant to be channeled, unbound, with every furious fiber of your being! *Tweaking.* Hah!”
"Our knowledge of magic has grown significantly since then," Lou said. "Calculations are much more important than brute passion."
*More important than passion?* Now, the blood was *really* pumping in Archibald’s veins. He spread his fingers wide, letting the heat of magic pass from his heart and into his hands. His fingers began to glow white-hot.
“Tell me, young mage, have you never seen what the Demon Eye of Kalesh can do to a man? Have you never made a pact with Unspeakable Czonthlzhrsh?”
The flames leaped from his fingers, becoming jets of fire that blackened his beard and made the earth at his feet crack. A deep, guttural chanting that came from everywhere and nowhere swelled as Archibald began to shout.
“HAVE YOU NEVER FELT THE RAW POWER OF THE PRIMAL FLAME OF ORNACH?”
Lou snapped her fingers. The flame on Archibald’s fingers went out. And suddenly, he couldn't breathe.
“Please don’t do that,” Lou said, “Uncontrolled flames are against campus policy.”
“How?” he gasped, “How did you do that?”
“I told you. It's called *Physics*.” | “What are you doing?”
“Just trying to get a quick transfiguration on this lens. Need it to refocus a laser and figure out the exact mechanism of a potential fourth-order transmutation,” I muttered. “Now be quiet. I need to concentrate.”
Jamal peered over my shoulder. “Are you using an aluminum to silicon dioxide transfiguration? That’s *so* inefficient.”
“It’s what we have laying around, Jamal. I don’t have time to get something more pure. If I did, I would just order a custom part.”
“Did you at least polish it first?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I polished the lens. I’ve been working with this lab for three years now.”
He snorted. “Yeah, and you still haven’t started your dissertation.”
“Some of us like to feel passion for the projects we choose to work on,” I said, my face growing red. “Now can you please leave me alone?”
“Just trying to offer some helpful tips,” he sniffed. He fell silent but continued hovering over my shoulder.
*Okay… Just need to relax, perform the spell, and-*
“Did you use a pure polish or are you taking into account the surface impurities?”
“Jesus Christ, Jamal, I know what I’m doing!” I yelled.
“I’m just saying. If you’re doing a direct transmutation and it’s that inefficient, you’re going to have some awfully big surface imperfections. Not great for a lens.”
“It doesn’t have to be *great*,” I said through gritted teeth, “it just has to be fast. That’s why *I’m* I’m doing it instead of someone from Dr. Lee’s group.”
“Are you still beefing with him? You should have known better than to correct Lee at the last Christmas party. He *is* a professor, after all.”
“*Associate* professor,” I replied. “Now will you *please* let me get to work?”
*Okay. Relax, calm-*
“I just don’t know if transmutated crystal of that quality will refract light accurately enough,” Jamal said conversationally. “Have you done any tests?”
“Jamal, what transmutation *hasn’t* been tested to death and back?” I asked, irritated. “I mean, have you even looked at a transmutation table recently?”
“Yeah, and silicon dioxide isn’t exactly a common one.”
“Not in student textbooks, sure, but there are plenty of papers on it.”
“By who?”
“Whom,” I corrected absentmindedly. “There’s one by Dr. Edgar Walker of Oxford fame.”
“Oxford has a magic department?”
“Everyone has a magic department. Oxford may be old fashioned but they’re usually on top of things.”
“So Dr. Walker wrote a paper on ‘aluminium to silicon dioxide transmutation?’”
“Well-” I hesitated. “Not exactly. But he does have efficiency and NT values and other factors for transmutations from aluminum to non-metals and metalloids.”
“So the answer is ‘no’,” Jamal said with a hint of smugness in his voice.
“So the answer is ‘kind of’,” I replied, irritated. “We’ve got the NT values and the chemical composition, so-”
“You’re using the Khlebnikov equation? That’s an *approximation*. Not even a little accurate.”
“It’s *extremely* accurate, given that we’re only dealing with simple molecules,” I argued. “It’ll give you the right answer within one percent of the actual value.”
“Whatever you say,” Jamal said with a condescending chuckle. “If 99% is good enough for you, then whatever.”
“It doesn’t matter how good it is because I’m using the Dabrowski method.”
That scored a hit. “Oh, the Dabrowski method?”
“Of course. Ever heard of it? But of course you should have by now, given that you’ve started your *dissertation* and all,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Well, I’m so deep into my research it’s possible I’ve forgotten some more… elementary methods,” Jamal said hastily. “It’s hard work, you know.”
“Oh, I’m sure, I’m sure. Still, one would think that a magician of your prowess would at least be able to do an unassisted Dabrowski analysis. It *is* the most effective form of determining the efficacy of a transmutation, after all.”
Jamal glared at me. “Maybe my transmutations are so good I don’t need a Dabrowski analysis. Besides, what does that have to do with the Dabrowski method? I thought those were two different ‘Dabrowski’s.”
“They are,” I conceded. “But *Edmund* Dabrowski found *Daniel* Dabrowski’s research when he was Googling his own last name and was fascinated by the research. He earned his Ph.D. expanding on the possibilities and potential of a Dabrowski analysis in transmutation, thus the Dabrowski method. Edmund’s advanced Dabrowski analysis helps you identify the most common impurities by percentage and then perform a secondary transmutation on them, increasing transmutation purity by up to .5% in a single spell.”
“It’s still inefficient,” Jamal mumbled.
“Yes, well, some of us are willing to take inefficiency in the name of advancing science, and others of us joined the university because they wanted to make fireballs,” I said.
Jamal pouted. “Hey, that’s not fair. I had to give a cute childhood anecdote as part of my acceptance speech to show how far I’d come to get that scholarship.”
“Uh-huh. Whatever. Now will you please, for the love of all that is good and holy, leave me alone before I start probing your mind for your deepest and darkest secrets? I may not be the best telepath, but I was pretty good back in sophomore year.”
Jamal started to sulk away, so I returned to my work.
*Fucking guy. Okay. Aluminum. Silicon dioxide. Simple transmutation. Source object is nearly perfectly pure, well polished, exact right shape. Focus… and-*
“Wouldn’t the transmutation be more effective if you perform it in the cleanroom?”
“LEAVE ME [ALONE](https://reddit.com/r/Badderlocks)!”
***
 
Part of my universe on magic at a modern university which began with [this piece](https://www.reddit.com/r/Badderlocks/comments/gaeat0/a_class_about_the_mechanics_of_magic_set_in/) over three years ago. | 2020-08-07T07:39:10 | 2020-08-07T06:37:24 | 370 | 232 |
[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you. | We had been... friends was a strong word, from my point of view, but I certainly was it's best friend (as apparently everyone else who had gazed upon it in the past was dead) for about six months.
I assumed it could only appear to a single soul at a time, and as I hadn't melted into a screaming, mad pile of goo yet, it couldn't move on to another.
So there we were. Average human and... that. Stuck with each other. We couldn't quite talk in the normal sense, but after a while, we had come up with a way to understand and be understood by each other. Little pushes and pulls of emotion, certain tilts of its... head? I honestly dont even know if you could call it a head, but that was the bit that seemed to contain whatever sensory equivalent to eyes that it had. I even managed to teach it a bit of rudimentary sign language using its... appendages.
Honestly I could give it's body parts names like tentacles or claws or teeth, but none of it quite seemed real or even entirely there most of the time, and it just gave me the *idea* of a tentacle rather than actually *appearing* to be one. It defied any ability to describe what it actually looked like.
It didn't tend to follow me when I left the house, but was always lingering near the door to start drifting in what I assume was usually a quite horrifying manner behind me whenever I got home.
As our ability to communicate grew more complex, it eventually managed to pose a question that confused me at first. Not because it was difficult to reply, but because I couldn't understand how it didn't already know the answer.
*Why hadn't I been driven mad by it? Why was I able to remain undisturbed by its presence?*
"Why? Dude, haven't you looked at the calendar?"
It gave a confused wriggle of what I assumed were limbs currently in another dimension.
"It's 2020, bro. You're the least disturbing thing in my life right now. You want some coffee?" | “Haha, that was so fun!” Cthulhy said, jumping up and down. “Let's go again!”
“Hold on, hold on,” I said, out of breath, my hands on my knees. “It was a lot, let me just... take a minute.”
“Oh come on, you're so old and slow!” she said, pouting and curling her fists.
“Old? Who are you calling old?”
“Umm, about that,” she said, twirling her fingers and looking away sheepishly. “I wanted to ask you. Why aren't you scared?”
“Scared? What do you mean?”
“Well, normally, when people see me, they run screaming. It makes me feel bad and lonely. But!” She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering. “Then I found you, and you aren't scared! And, and, you're actually pretty fun and funny! I just wanted to know, why is that?” She tilted her head, looking at me inquisitively.
“Why? Umm, well, you know... I just see you differently than everyone else. Everyone focuses on the negatives, but I focus on the positives!”
“Positives instead of negatives?” She put her finger on her mouth, thinking about what I said. “Hmmm...”
“Yeah, I guess you could say when it comes to you I just have a better perspective!”
“Awww, thanks! You always know what to say!” She beamed at me. “Anyways, want to go again?”
“Sure, why not?” I shrugged my shoulders and smiled.
“Okay, ready?” She took me by one hand and held up the other. “Three, two, one.”
Her hands warped into long claws, her face started growing tentacles, her form growing into great and terrible infinitude. I realized my hand was not holding her hand; it was attached to her shapeless dark-green form. All of me was. I was but a small parasite-mate on her thick carapace. I gazed down at the city we had just destroyed, its husk burning dimly below.
“Remember,” she said, her voice terribly booming, echoing from deep within her, within *us*, “focus on the positives.”
A wet smacking noise reverberated through her body, which I somehow instinctively understood: laughter. And in that moment, I heard an echo of the cute, distinctly human-looking woman I had seen just moments before, and I smiled, and closed my eyes and drifted off to the throbbing hums of dulcet melodies- perhaps a lullaby? But where in all the endless stretches of heavens would there exist a *midwife* to this strange being before me? No, above me? No, *within* me? My mind drifted off as she repeated from within and without: “Focus on the positives.” | 2020-10-27T09:09:33 | 2020-10-27T08:57:50 | 38 | 18 |
[WP] The world is divided into 2 societies: one for those with powers and one without, with strict rules of no interaction. However, with most of the superheroes defeated and the villains on the verge of winning, you have no choice but to cross over and seek help from the non-powered humans | There's something about their quiet presences that makes my stomach twist a bit. I can't shake the feeling that, any minute now, one might simply... evaporate me? Read my mind. Control me to commit atrocities.
I hear, in the old day, it was out of concern for the common folk, the 'innocents,' so to say, that the fighting never got this far. It had all been comic mischief, it had all been about robbing banks and taking over cities and stealing gear.
Not genocide. How things have changed.
It made sense that the mundanes, the normals, the commonfolk would want to escape the violence still. Even back then, there'd been casualties. Even back then, so really, could we ask them to stand around and absorb blow after blow, loss to their communities, deaths of family and friends, just to prevent one side or another from going over the top.
Put in so many words, my heart sinks further as I walk cloaked through the capital city. What am I hoping to accomplish here? Lady Magenta or Detrict the Foresaken could wipe this entire place in a blink of an eye.
Nonetheless, I arrive at the city hall, where the governor of the district has agreed to meet me. In secret, of course. We aren't supposed to cross over. We're never supposed to cross over. In fact, it's so dangerous that I'm here, that part of me suspects a trap.
But there is no cry or shout of attack as I slip in, heart skipping in my chest. I follow the directions he's provided me, twisting through the halls of the capitol building, until I tap three times on a small wooden door.
"Enter."
The man's cool voice does little to soothe me but I draw my coat around me and do as he's commanded.
"Mr. Governor, sir," I say, bowing my head.
"I... why, you're just a child!"
The surprise in his voice surprises me too and I look up at him.
"Thirteen, sir. Who else did you expect? The treaty wouldn't allow-"
"It wouldn't allow *any* of your kind here." The older man stares at me, still dumbfounded, from across a small desk. "Why should I have expected such a young woman?"
I bow my head again. "With all due respect, Mr. Governor, I meant our treaty. The one prohibiting violence against the youth of our territory. Most Light Powered supers are driven deep underground, with kill-on-sight 'legal,' more or less." I swallow hard and look back up at him. "It's only the children that are allowed out in public, to shop, get food, try to organize. We're the only reason any Light Powers still exist. But King Obsidian is looking to overturn the Youth Protection Act. After that, we'll all be killed."
I try to keep my voice steady here but judging by the way his bushy white eyebrows furrow and his dark eyes shimmer in the light, I've failed.
"I didn't realize... or rather, I knew things had gotten bad. I hadn't quite realized to what extent. Miss. I'm so sorry."
"I don't need apologies." My voice is too hard but I can't cry here. "I need help. We need help." Part of me almost breaks and spills, how there is no help to be had, how the mundanes couldn't possibly be able to help us, how the best they could possibly do is grant asylum to our survivors, but even that would violate the treaty between Supers and mundanes, lead to more widespread death.
There's nothing they can do. I'm only here because I was appointed by Lestra Lucrative to come. Because she vouched for me on the eve of her 18th birthday. Because she'd died the next day, leaving me with nothing but respect for her legacy and a bitter, hardened cause in my chest.
To my surprise, the governor sighs, but not with defeat.
"I'm not sure how you found out," he said. "But then again, I suppose if things truly have gotten bad, it could make sense. What did you say your powers were, again?"
I close my eyes and will my flock to come to me. Not every Super has the power of fire or death or psionics. Some of us have pretty things. Like my birds.
After a moment, I open my eyes and look around the room. But my heart is in my throat, for no pearlescent, white doves sit atop the small books and shelves in the cramped, secret office.
"I don't understand," I whisper. "I'm sorry. They should be here. The Ivory Heralds. My birds."
He shakes his head. "I only agreed to meet with you here because we 'mundanes,' as you call us, have perfected magic nullifying technology. We got it done some century ago. *That's* what spurred the treaty. We never would have had leverage otherwise."
I stare, frozen, at this. So the mundanes have not simply been living by our generosity. It never would have crossed my mind that we hadn't a choice.
"So you can help," I say, not bothering to ask specifics. I don't really care. "We can evacuate members of our people here? It wouldn't be everyone, we couldn't manage that, but perhaps some of the littlest ones? Just to-- just to have our legacies live on?"
The man looks outraged at my suggestion. "Move them here? Take on a few survivors? Absurd, girl. Simply absurd."
My shoulders drop and when I speak again, my voice is tiny. "Then you can't help."
He stands up and puts a large, rough hand on my back. "Not like that." Now his voice has quieted, not quite to match mine but enough to make me look back in his eyes. "Our technology has outpaced that of your land's by quite a bit. Magic doesn't lend itself to scientific progress, but that's alright. You never needed it to defend yourselves. Or maybe you did but didn't know it til too late. Us commonfolk, however, have been preparing for a war for some time."
"Why?" I ask. "We never indicated a desire to attack you."
"Because that's how these things work. It does not do, to live by the goodwill of others."
The world is always more complicated than I think. Just when I feel confident I have my finger on a situation, it slips, shifts, and grows a thousand times more intricate.
I never would have expected the mundanes to have the capacity to help. I never would have expected them to have the *willingness* to help.
And I never expected to be sitting in the mundane governor's secret office, looking at maps and charts and screens, poring over what could be done, not simply to save a legacy, but to save my people entirely. I never would have expected, upon donning my coat, that I might actually do some good on Lestra's last mission.
But here I am. And I am not backing down.
___
Read more stories at [r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide](https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide/) | The Dreamer sifted through a sea of sleeping minds, discarding the masses of the mundane like chaff as he sought the one with the power to save them, the one who the Unpowered called “President.” The old man had closed his eyes some ten days before, and every moment of slumber since had been bought with the blood of a friend. There was little else left, at the closing of the Age of Heroes.
Outside the walls of the Dreamer’s citadel a hopeless battle raged for the city of Ered-Dun.
In a crumbling parapet at the south wall four heroes finished their prayers before a shrine to Duna, she who had long ago sundered the sea between the worlds. Outside they could hear the rumbling fury of a great army, the boulders their strongmen threw crashing against the walls in a staccato parody of rhythm. The four had no illusions about their chances, across the whole of the city there were few who did.
“They’ll be through the walls soon,” Priya said, eyes closed and her hand pressed against the cool stone of the floor, feeling all its cracks and crevices for hundreds of feet in either direction. “It will break near tower twelve first, they’re widening a breach near the base with a pyro, super-heating the stone.” That was less than a quarter mile from them.
Edric, their leader, mulled that over, dark eyes lost in thought as he pulled at a bushy beard. “We wait for their charge. Let the Lesser Powers hold them at first, bottle them up into a choke where Erlein’s storm can do its best work.”
“And what of our people on the ground?” the pain in Sarica’s voice was undisguised, a raw wound hanging in the air.
“They’ll fight. It’s all thats left to any of us now.” The challenge in Edric’s eyes was unmistakable as he stared her down.
“Fine,” she said, turning away in disgust.
The crash came only moments later, followed by the triumphant roar of the enemy as they poured into the city to grapple hand to hand with its defenders. In the ruins of the parapet the heroes gathered themselves for their last stand, Edric’s sword bursting into blue flame as he focused his power. In his dark corner Erlein had begun to glow, small flashes of electricity dancing across the bare expanse of his pale chest. Where she knelt on the ground counting off the hordes of the enemy who passed through their shattered wall, Priya’s dusky skin had begun to gray, the grinding of stone sounding with every motion. Sarica merely waited, hovering sullenly several inches off the ground.
“More than a thousand are through, ” Priya said, rising.
“Then it’s time,” Edric said. “We go to our deaths that he might Dream.”
“That he might Dream,” the group intoned.
They made an entrance, both sides had to give them that. Priya crushed through the door with a great charge as the rest followed her out, Erlein and Sarica darting through the air like fireflies while Edric’s run became a blur of spark and flame. They crossed the quarter mile in the blink of an eye as only Higher Powers could, and they laid into the swirling melee at the breach with an abandon bordering on suicidal.
Erlein’s storm came first, a devastating rain of lightning that stunned great masses of the Villain formation, weapons falling from spasming hands up and down the line. When the two fighters landed in their midst it was a near route, only the strongest of the Villains were able to offer any resistance. The Lesser Powers still standing gave a hearty cheer at their rescue, but it was stilled only moments later as a hideous chant rose up outside the walls. There were far more terrible things than infantry out there in the armies of the Villains. That had been only the first wave and it would be harder from here. Erlein was temporarily spent by his efforts, his exhausted body making a slow, controlled fall back to Earth in the grasp of Sarica’s telekinetics.
And in his citadel the dreamer woke, a cold sweat clinging to him, realizing his message was delivered.
The villain’s paid dearly for every block as the came but slowly, surely, the Heroes were driven back into the city. They lost Priya on the second day, when a villain they had unknowingly dismissed as Lesser tore through his armor with a great cry and began to grow and grow to impossible heights, falling upon her in a torrent of blows as he used the shattered remnant of a church steeple for a mace.
Erlein came next, when a formation of fliers dove for him too suddenly with their. It had been all Edric could do to tear Sarica from her quiet friend’s body after she had dashed his killers against the city streets.
So it was that on the fourth day since the outer wall fell only two of the four remained, shut up in the Dreamer’s citadel while the city around them burned and the greatest of the Villain’s council soared high into the air to project their terms to the vanquished.
There were 6 of them clad in dark red robes of office, the original Villains whose powers had transcended the single element simplicity of all others and become something else, perhaps more akin to sorcery. From their center a stentorian voice rose above the din of a city being sacked and carried itself into the hearts of every hero, Higher or Lesser, who was left inside the citadel.
“First!” he called, arrogance dripping from each word, “you will surrender the Dreamer to me! His family’s time at the head of the Powered World is at an end. Second! Those among you who use arms will cast them over your wall before opening the gates and assembling en-mass in the courtyard. Those of you whose powers render swords unnecessary will be first bound and gagged by their fellows and placed at the front rank. Third! You will swear a binding oath of allegiance to this council, on pain of death, for as long as you shall live.”
He hovered closer to the walls then, his body crackling with a clear aura of power. “Do these three things and you shall be spared! Do not, and your fates are sealed. You have until sundown.”
The citadel’s answer was painted in gold upon the wood of a massive table hauled up from the dining hall, the moon and star crest of the Dreamer’s house. As the last left who was able Sarica’s tears flowed freely as she hurled it from the battlements.
They came at sundown, in endless waves lit by the furnace fires of the council’s most powerful pyrokinetic. If the fighting in the streets earlier had been fierce this was beyond anything that had come before, the battle raging across air and ground while countless fell on either side. It was doomed of course, and every hero fighting knew it, even the Dreamer who waited in his chambers, finally grappling with the reality of his failure.
It happened just before sunrise, when lights in the sky were spotted in the distance, coming closer with a dull, beating hum. Gouts of fire and hurled stone erupted all across the citadel, but moments later they were nothing compared to the unimaginable explosions that suddenly broke the ground outside its walls. Worse still for the assembled mass of villains were the great steel birds that seemed to soar overhead faster than even the greatest among them could fly and the great fury of their cannons as they laced the packed ranks with projectiles that buzzed past like hornets.
Eyes closed in his darkened room the Dreamer cast his mind out once again, searching the newcomers for one among them who might sleep and so tell him all he needed to know. He found one in the ranks of the support crews. A mechanic, though he did not know what that was, who had stayed up far too late the night before and whose head cripplingly thick with drink even in his dreams. In the waking world the Dreamer smiled, the broadness of the movement threatening to crack his face. The call had been answered, the Unpowered had come.
\--------
r/TurningtoWords | 2021-01-29T09:06:32 | 2021-01-29T07:40:25 | 962 | 100 |
[WP] Humans were never meant to be able to draw perfect circles. For millennia people of all ages attempted the feat, from young children to elder scientists - and everyone in-between. After drawing one perfectly on your first attempt, you finally understand the ramifications behind your actions. | The Resonant Circle made its debut appearance years ago at an art exhibition in Key West. When news broke of the painting—if you could call it that—the world thought it was a joke. The piece looks utterly unremarkable when viewed in any form other than the original. Just a simple circle on a white sheet of printer paper.
But when viewed in person… the Resonant Circle has an effect on people. You can’t stop looking at it. People say it’s the most beautiful, perfect thing they’ve ever seen. They stand there, transfixed, for as long as security lets them. The exhibit itself had to be placed into a recessed wall, away from the periphery of the guards, who would otherwise have been hypnotized and distracted by its effect.
After months of press coverage and a few related international incidents, the Resonant Circle was auctioned for a eighty million dollars. The purchaser was a wealthy woman, but not so wealthy that she was able to afford what she paid. Reports say she liquidated her entire fortune to make the winning bid. Luckily, she didn’t have to live in poverty. In fact, she didn’t have to live at all because a week later the Resonant Circle disappeared, leaving her mangled corpse in its wake.
As an academic, who's devoted my entire life to studying the Psychological effects of art, I was fascinated and excited by The Circle.
As the artist who drew it, I was horrified.
I was just a kid learning to draw owls in art class when it happened. I had just drawn the owl’s body—a circle—when the teacher, Mr. Allen, stopped by to check on my work.
“You drew this?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“It’s so round.”
“I’m good at circles,” I said proudly.
“Look at those curves…” Mr. Allen's pupils had dilated. “They just keep... on... curving...” He stood there silent, his mouth open for a minute.
“Mr. Allen?”
He shook his head. “What? Oh right. Sorry. Your drawing. Nice try but owls aren’t supposed to be so beautiful—I mean round. So... perfectly round... Try again.”
He took my drawing, and I tried again this time making the owl a bit more ugly. I got a B+. It was a pretty unfortunate looking owl.
Over the next few weeks Mr. Allen seemed more and more distracted. He’d developed bags under his eyes, he’d zone out, and as the weeks went on, he grew thinner and thinner. Eventually, he stopped coming to class and we got a substitute teacher. I never did find out what happened to him.
Nowadays, the thought that the drawing might be traced back to me haunts my waking dreams. Every day I'm thankful that I didn't write my name at the top of that piece of paper. If I had, I'd have been kidnapped and killed long ago, just like every other person who had tried taking credit for the drawing.
I don’t draw, paint or even doodle. It’s too dangerous. I’ve seen the effect my work can have, and I don’t want any part of it. That’s not to say I could recreate the Resonant Circle even if I wanted to. I had tried, in the privacy of my own home, and never quite succeeded.
Today I'm a guest speaker at a world-renowned university. “Hello everyone," I said to the class. "My name is Dr. Oloroso.” I wrote the words on the chalkboard. “I'm here to talk about—”
I hesitated. Something felt off. Every student in the room had gone deathly still, fixated on something behind me.
“They're so round…” One of them murmured, pointing at the chalkboard, where I had just written my name and four perfect “O’s.”
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | I've looked at it for five hours now.
If I had known six hours ago that I would have drawn a perfect circle on my very first try, I might have gotten a bevy of people to witness the feat--my parents, for giving me steady hands (probably). A Guinness recorder. Rectifier? Approver? Whoever they were, they would probably be accompanied by a documentary crew, and that one person dressed in a suit would measure the circumference of the circle, nod gravely, then turn to the camera and hold up a pre-printed certificate, smile and proclaim me to be the first human to draw a perfect circle.
Because this was a perfect circle. I had just drawn it on a whim, and didn't realize it until it had stewed on paper for about an hour before my eyes were inevitably drawn to its immaculate roundness, unblemished radius, a shining example of pi drawn freehand.
It was perfect. I didn't need a compass or calipers or some other weird instrument to measure what I knew in my heart of hearts.
If there were people with me, they would have left by now. Maybe I would have poured myself a drink, loosened my imaginary necktie and let it hang, still marvelling at my work.
It was utterly, completely, perfect. Right? There was nothing that needed to be changed about it. I should frame it, hang it on my wall (along with the world record certificate), and guests will realize that it is a perfect circle, and they will congratulate me, showering honeyed compliments and muttering envenomed jealousies under their breath.
It was totally, absolutely, perfectly, perfect. And so, I took another piece of paper, and tried to do it again.
This one wasn't perfect. It was rather obvious, poked in its side like an askew blob. It didn't even close properly, for god's sake. No matter, it was merely a hiccup for the genius that is my right hand.
So I drew another one. This wasn't perfect either. This was squiggly. My hand wavered along the path, and while it closed, the path it took was not a faultless path.
I couldn't stop myself from drawing another one. And another. And one more after that, and more and more, till my wrist ached, shot with strain, and my palm found itself coloured by graphite, and my eyes were probably bloodshot and poked out a little more as I stared my damnedest at each circle. I was improving--well, except my first one--but blemishes remained, sticking out like a baby cuckoo crying at the top of its lungs, bringing me to its attention wearily and tiredly.
I could not bear to look at my first circle. It must have felt betrayed by what I've done. There was nothing I could do to surpass it, for it was perfect in every which way and dimension, but I could have at least equalled it. And as I failed again and again, I had to suppress the urge to throw all the rest away, then take my first circle and lock it safely away and throw away the key, keeping the one exemplary work I've managed to accomplished in forever safety, never to be gazed upon.
I did not know how many hours I spent on my desk. I did not know how many pieces of paper I've used, and how many circles I've drawn on each. These circles did not even deserve their own home, their own plotted piece of land, for they were not perfect.
My head jolted up, and as my bleary eyes cleared ever so slightly, I saw bright light now entering through the window, the sun assaulting me with its undesired rays. I must have fallen asleep. I could not tell whether it was for minutes or hours.
And so I yawned, reaching my hand out, hearing the scrunch of paper beneath my palm. Yet, the crisp scrunch sound it emitted made my blood run cold. I slowly revealed turned over my hand, only to realize that my first ever circle, my perfect child, betrayed by my tired limb, laying destroyed.
I looked it over and over, and looked at the once pristine paper, now crushed and weathered, drawn by my hand and transformed by it. It was no longer a perfect circle. Yet, for some reason, I did not despair.
Instead, I felt freed, aside from the concentrated agony I felt in my arm, the remnants of a syrupy, too good drink at the bottom of the cup. I gathered the various sheets of paper into a pile, placing them neatly at the top of the table. The crumpled, once perfect one, I could not bear to put anywhere but on top.
Then, I grabbed my now stubby pencil. I inhaled deeply, and exhaled, feeling musty air enter my lungs. It was not entirely pleasant, but well-needed.
And then, I drew the perfect square.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-05-22T09:12:39 | 2021-05-22T07:29:53 | 481 | 300 |
[WP] You're the first person to be sent to Mars. When you land you decide to take out your phone and take some photos so you can send them to your friends later. After a few minutes you get a notification: "NEW BLUETOOTH DEVICE "HELP ME" DETECTED - WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONNECT?" | Nothing says apocalyptic wasteland like a red dust storm. Walk out without a suit and you'll be stripped to bone as if you were swimming with piranhas. The scorching glare of the sun awakens something primal, reminding you why humanity, wherever they are, always come up with the notion of gods.
After checking my phone on the Martian surface, I was wondering whether I'd just gotten connected to one.
*NEW BLUETOOTH DEVICE DETECTED: 'HELP ME'*
I'd been sitting in my graphite-foam igloo, hoping to receive delayed wireless transmissions from Earth on my phone. I'd cobbled together a small device and managed to argue that it would come in handy. Truth was the big communications central onboard the ship was expensive and energy-hungry and wasting it on reading late night celebrity gossip didn't feel right.
Then I got the message. Thinking it was either an error or a prank, I wasn't that shocked. It was probably Carl. He'd made fun of me for bringing my phone to Mars. "I'm not saying you're an addict, but you're the only person I can think of who would want to sit on their phone when they're literally on another planet."
*WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONNECT?*
This would be interesting. Knowing Carl, it would probably trigger the download of a Marvin the Martian clip. I agreed to connect, blissfully unaware of the life-threatening danger this would soon put me in.
Like I expected, it was a video. But what I had not expected was its actual contents. It wasn't Marvin. It wasn't a cartoon at all. It was live video footage. From Mars.
I could see the ship as well as the igloo. This didn't make any sense. While the footage was hazy, owing to the ongoing storm, there was no question about it. This was being filmed by someone, or something, right now.
As an experiment, I woke up the surveyor drone. It could handle a silly sand storm. I wasn't supposed to set it up before tomorrow, but this couldn't wait. It could still be a prank. Not a funny one, but a prank.
As VONNEGUT raised its robotic arm, I watched it do so in real-time.
Instinctively, I tossed my phone aside, as if it had been infected by a demon. I ran through my options. I could just ignore this. It sounded all too crazy, right? Surely no one would take something like this seriously? Then again, no. That was off the table. I could send a report back down to the base. But that would be pretty inefficient, each message taking twenty minutes to get from one to the other. It was better used for reports and updates. And this was more of I-have-to-do-something-right-now situation. Finally, there was VONNEGUT. What if I brought him to wherever the footage was coming from?
This struck me as the best option. VONNEGUT was equipped with a camera and various sensors. I could send him off to investigate on my behalf.
And that was just what I did. VONNEGUT obediently staggered over towards the location, unperturbed by the celestial sandpaper ravaging him. But as he got closer, I started to wonder whether I had lost my mind. I could see him moving closer on my phone, but VONNEGUT's camera wasn't picking up anything interesting. There were some red rocks, sure, but nothing like a recording device.
When I looked back at my phone, I froze. The perspective had shifted. Suddenly, the vantage point had been rotated at a 90-degree angle. There was something out there. And it was moving.
I sent VONNEGUT on another run, this time less confident.
This futile search carried on for hours. I could never catch a glimpse of whatever it was that moved about, filming me like some alien-freak voyeur. I was the only person on the red planet. The first. At least I had thought the latter was true. Now I was not so sure. Whatever it was that was playing with me, it was intelligent. The thought sent a deep shudder down my spine.
It would be more than two years before another window of opportunity for a rescue launch to be sent my way from Earth. In other words: I had to deal with this on my own. I took a deep breath. It had to be aliens. Aliens that learned to decipher our signals.
As I sat there, lost in a haze of desperation, my phone buzzed. It was an incoming call.
*To be continued*
---
/r/Hemingbird | It was difficult to decipher the dust storm of thoughts that clouded Carlos Northman's mind, but the Olympus Mons of it was pride.
He was proud, of course,and why wouldn't he be? He would be the first man to set foot on Mars. There's certainly a prestige associated with that--and it was why he scrambled and fought for the position to be the foremost human there. As the Red Planet came into view, he marvelled at its iron beauty from the safety of his spacecraft--but it wouldn't be long. No, it would not be long.
The craft slowed down and entered the planetary orbit. A light thrust from the jets easily sent it in towards Mars, and as the machinery hissed--which Carlos knew to be its little feet for the eventual landing--the man couldn't help but smile, and could barely keep himself in his seat.
He set foot on Mars, then. There was untold elation, a tsunami of joy evident in his heart--but that quickly dissipated. What was the point of being the first man on Mars, if nobody else knew about it? So he took out his phone and smiled into the camera as the red filled the screen entirely.
That's the kind of view you get for being the first, for being the most capable--for being the first man on Mars. He couldn't send hte message to his friends yet, of course. But it might not be a long time before he could. After all, Carlos Northman, the first man on Mars--what else couldn't he do?
A familiar beep emanated from his device. He struggled to place it for a while, but it was the same sound that emerged when he connected to his Bluetooth speaker. Carlos checked his phone, noticing an unfamiliar notification.
> NEW BLUETOOTH DEVICE "HELP ME" DETECTED - WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONNECT?
Carlos gulped. He looked around wildly, bouncing erratically. The connection was weak. He opened up a song, and played it. He could hear a familiar tune float over the unoccupied airwaves, and he stepped, slowly, towards his new quest.
He was afraid, of course. What did it mean? Was somebody stranded on Mars? Was it a practical joke of some kind? Did some colleague of his, jealous, send a rover with a Bluetooth speaker to screw with him because he was the first man on Mars?
There was a small dugout. There was a door. There was clearly another person on Mars. He hesitated, but he knocked. It was only polite.
"What?" was the word he heard, before a brief scramble came to the door. The doorknob clicked and turned, opening up to reveal another man standing behind the door?
"What," Carlos blurted out. "The hell is going on?"
"A visitor?" the stranger muttered. "That's faster than expected."
The stranger turned towards Carlos.
"Are you the one that's being playing your song through that speaker?"
"Yes," Carlos said. "I thought I was the first man on Mars."
"Well, you are not," the stranger said. A gloved hand reached out. "I'm Eskar."
"Carlos," said Carlos. He did not shake the hand, but rather started scanning the room. It was simple and bare bones, with nothing conspicuous but the speaker currently blaring the crooning of David Bowie.
"Can you please turn that off?" Eskar asked. He let his hand drop. "I would prefer not to be disturbed."
"Oh, of course," Carlos said. "I... I'm just a bit confused, that's all."
"About? You being the first man on Mars?"
"Yes. First and only," Carlos shook his head. "And then my phone connected to this random Bluetooth device, you know? And the device name is 'help me.' Pretty funny, if you ask me."
"Ah," Esakr smiled. "Help me. Just a funny joke."
"So... do you need any help?" Carlos asked. "There are supplies in my ship. Or a ride back to Earth. Something."
"No," Eskar said. "I don't need any help."
"Curious," Carlos shook his head. "How are you here? How did you get here?"
"You don't need to know," Eskar said, terse but polite.
"I think I do," Carlos said. "Look, I'm here on a mission."
"What's the mission?"
Carlos bit his tongue. He... wasn't sure?
"Look, there will be people telling me," Carlos said. "After all, I'm the first per--um, person on Mars. There's a plan for me."
"There isn't," Eskar smiled.
"What?"
"You are stranded here," Eskar said. "You and I. The only men on Mars. Tough spot to survive, honestly."
"That's not very funny," Carlos said, slowly backing away from the door.
He didn't expect it when Eskar launched, a flash of steel in his hands, at a speed wholly unfamiliar to him. Carlos gasped, his suit pierced, and his breath sucked out in an instant.
"Help me," Eskar shook his head. "That darned Rachel and her speaker. Clever girl, I suppose."
Eskar looked towards Carlos, who now gasped like a fish out of water--or a human on Mars.
"It's not personal, Carlos," Eskar said. "But I'm the first and only man on Mars."
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-06-10T11:53:19 | 2021-06-10T10:32:49 | 78 | 55 |
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there. | "Hey, I need you to tell me what Excelsior just bought."
"What?"
"I just saw him in here. He had a pretty huge bag. What did he get?"
"I have no idea. I'm just stocking shelves."
Praxis looks back over his shoulder like he's being followed. I don't buy it. Nobody follows Praxis. Not even on social media.
"Come on, man. You probably just stocked it. What'd he get? Couldn't have been potions. Was it nanobots?"
"Why are you even asking me this? You know it's against policy."
"Oh! A nanobot printer! Like those 3D printers. But for nanobots."
"I know what they are."
"You even have them on sale!"
"I put the stickers up."
"It was a nanobot printer, wasn't it?"
"You can't ask me these questions. You've had three warnings."
"Holy shit. Who do you think you are?"
He has no idea I'm trying to help him. Yeah, I just got hired. I also do my homework. Try to make sure I know a thing or two.
"Some kind of stock-boy, standing up to ME?! Damn, man. You know I'm Praxis, right? Solely responsible for taking out half of City Hall?"
He held potions for Akathisium while she did it, but sure. I ignore him. I keep stocking the shelf.
"I swear, I *have* to beat Excelsior next time. Or Akathisium's never gonna notice me."
Shelf doesn't stock itself. Up go the quantum circuitboards. Half off this week. Not bad—I might grab some myself. Real good price with my employee discount.
"I need this, man. Just tell me what he bought and I'll go away."
I turn and stare him down.
"You do not need this. You need to go back to your pocket dimension and practice beating Excelsior a million million times by proxy. That's what you're good at. Taking shortcuts isn't a praxis for experience. It also isn't the Praxis experience. So leave it alone, please."
"Hey, that's pretty good!"
"Thank you."
"Shame I'm about to kill you. Otherwise, I'd give you credit for it."
"... Excuse me?"
"I'm done with people disrespecting me. Plus, I don't even know how you know about the pocket dimension. You're done, stock-boy. Prepare to d—"
It didn't come up in the interview, but when I erase all knowledge of someone from existence, that also includes surveillance records and memories. So that's why you have an incident of unauthorized use of power in the store, but no camera footage, and no record of his previous incidents. He had three warnings followed by a death threat, so I took immediate action. I hope this is a sufficient explanation.
... No, sir. I don't know why they assume the employees aren't also supers.
... Yes, sir. I could do a lot with unlimited power over knowledge. Trust me, working part-time here is just easier.
... Gnosis, sir. You need me to spell it for the form? Sure. G-N-O-S-I-S.
... Praxis, sir. P-R-A-X-I-S.
... Praxis. P-R-A-X-I-S.
... It's okay, sir. I know you're going to have a difficult time remembering him. I'm prepared to tell you as many times as you need. | "Welcome to SuperMart, for when your powers are super but your wallet isn't. How may I help you?" I sigh. When Mum got me a job at SuperMart, I think she thought I'd be more excited, but for fuck's sake, it's just retail in the end. Plus, Ma's a super, I'm used to dealing with supers. This is nothing new.
"My freeze-gun jammed up! I can't do anything with it now!" Frost Woman complains. Something I learnt is that under truce, villains are usually just a lot more chill while heros are usually more high-and-mighty.
"I'm sorry ma'am, but it was on the box. It said that it jams after frequent use." I explain. Frost Woman gasps, offended.
"Are you saying this was *my* fault! Do you know who you're talking to?" She exclaims. See what I'm talking about? Hero's are high-and-mighty jerks.
"I apologize, but I can't do anything about it." I say in my retail voice. I fake a smile. "We can call the company if you wish."
"I want a refund!" She demands. Fucking Karen. Suddenly, a voice chimes in from behind her.
"Excuse me ma'am, you're holding up the line." I peak behind her to see Pyrestorm, a younger villain. Frost Woman gasps dramaticaly.
"You have no right to speak, evil boy! If anything, you're holding up the line!" Aight, time to call for some backup.
"Ma'am, I apologize, but that's all I can do. We don't own the company, we just sell it. I can contact the company, or give you the number?" She glares at me. Oh gee, what did I do?
"That can't be right! I'm returning the gun, you better give me a refund!"
"Of course ma'am, can I see your reciept?" She freezes better than that freeze-ray could ever do.
"R-reciept?" Thought so, she didn't even buy it from here. She's an ice hero, why would she need a freeze-ray?
"Yes, I need to see the amount you bought it for and to see where you bought it." I cock my head in faux confusion. "What's wrong, do you not have it?" She scoffs.
"This can't be right. Where's your manager?" She demands. It might be super retail, but it's retail nonetheless.
"Yes, of course, I'll call for him." I sigh. I bring out the landline, preparing to call his office but the door seems to open just in time.
"Excuse me ma'am, may I ask your issue?" Her eyes widen. A not very well known fact is that the Seaport SuperMart is run by one of the greatest supers to ever exist. Red Falcon, a senior (and retired) hero.
"This- this bitch of an employee won't give me a refund!" She exclaims, although significantly less sure of herself. Hah, she has the gall to call me a bitch? I'm looking forward to this.
"Oh dear, we can't have that, can we? I can do it for you. Can I have your receipt?" Her hands clench around the weapon.
"You- you know what? It's working just fine, I'll just- I'll just leave now." She laughs awkwardly and turns on her heal. She walks out with her supposedly jammed weapon in hand. The moment she leaves the store, I cackle wildly. Red Falcon rests his hand on my shoulder to have me stop before turning to Pyrestorm.
"I apologize on Frost Woman's behalf. She should not have insulted you like that, now my employee will take back over, talk to him for any assistance. Please note that we are under truce here, so we are not supers here, we are people and that was uncalled for." Pyrestorm glares.
"Well deal with her faster next time, some of us have things to do." Oh yeah, did I mention that villains are also annoying? They're usually easy to tick off and kind of control freaks. Ah well, time to deal with that now. Just another day on the job, I guess. | 2021-10-03T12:21:35 | 2021-10-03T12:06:46 | 1,256 | 92 |
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there. | "Hey, I need you to tell me what Excelsior just bought."
"What?"
"I just saw him in here. He had a pretty huge bag. What did he get?"
"I have no idea. I'm just stocking shelves."
Praxis looks back over his shoulder like he's being followed. I don't buy it. Nobody follows Praxis. Not even on social media.
"Come on, man. You probably just stocked it. What'd he get? Couldn't have been potions. Was it nanobots?"
"Why are you even asking me this? You know it's against policy."
"Oh! A nanobot printer! Like those 3D printers. But for nanobots."
"I know what they are."
"You even have them on sale!"
"I put the stickers up."
"It was a nanobot printer, wasn't it?"
"You can't ask me these questions. You've had three warnings."
"Holy shit. Who do you think you are?"
He has no idea I'm trying to help him. Yeah, I just got hired. I also do my homework. Try to make sure I know a thing or two.
"Some kind of stock-boy, standing up to ME?! Damn, man. You know I'm Praxis, right? Solely responsible for taking out half of City Hall?"
He held potions for Akathisium while she did it, but sure. I ignore him. I keep stocking the shelf.
"I swear, I *have* to beat Excelsior next time. Or Akathisium's never gonna notice me."
Shelf doesn't stock itself. Up go the quantum circuitboards. Half off this week. Not bad—I might grab some myself. Real good price with my employee discount.
"I need this, man. Just tell me what he bought and I'll go away."
I turn and stare him down.
"You do not need this. You need to go back to your pocket dimension and practice beating Excelsior a million million times by proxy. That's what you're good at. Taking shortcuts isn't a praxis for experience. It also isn't the Praxis experience. So leave it alone, please."
"Hey, that's pretty good!"
"Thank you."
"Shame I'm about to kill you. Otherwise, I'd give you credit for it."
"... Excuse me?"
"I'm done with people disrespecting me. Plus, I don't even know how you know about the pocket dimension. You're done, stock-boy. Prepare to d—"
It didn't come up in the interview, but when I erase all knowledge of someone from existence, that also includes surveillance records and memories. So that's why you have an incident of unauthorized use of power in the store, but no camera footage, and no record of his previous incidents. He had three warnings followed by a death threat, so I took immediate action. I hope this is a sufficient explanation.
... No, sir. I don't know why they assume the employees aren't also supers.
... Yes, sir. I could do a lot with unlimited power over knowledge. Trust me, working part-time here is just easier.
... Gnosis, sir. You need me to spell it for the form? Sure. G-N-O-S-I-S.
... Praxis, sir. P-R-A-X-I-S.
... Praxis. P-R-A-X-I-S.
... It's okay, sir. I know you're going to have a difficult time remembering him. I'm prepared to tell you as many times as you need. | "How about fifty?"
"I'm not going to sell my death ray for %11 of the cost!"
It's not the weirdest thing you see in Super-Mart two indiviual try to make a living. But I still have to obey the policy
"Sir, we don't have a market for indiviuals. Please use websites like Cap-e or supercave."
Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I got here.
\*\*\*
"But mom said I'm old enough to buy speedster shoes."
I had a fake teary eye. You know, able to control water has its merits. My dad did't even looked at me while pointing out wall. The hole with orange edge showing me a wrecked car. I try to suppress my guilt
"Even then I was able to make my way out of it!"
He looked at me with a side eye, raising an eyebrow. That stare which brings down many people down to their knees. Knowing this isn't even a superpower didn't help so I keep my mouth shut but keep my chin up.
"If you say so."
Ugh! I hate you dad! I hate you when you just act towards me like you did to criminals! You know nothing about world!
"Yeah, I say so!"
"Let's compromise."
Did...did he just turn 180 degree on his char and smile?
He did!
That's bad!
That's really bad!
"I want you to prove me that you're responsible enough"
"O-okay"
I'm sure my position on my chin and shoulders didn't change but Oh man...I shouldn't stutter.
"Very well then"
\*\*\*
"I got scammed at supercave"
"Cap-e is only for superheroes with licenses"
Oh they're villians, of course. Should've figured it out from death ray.
Uh...
Death ray?
Since when I consider this a normal thing here?
"I can help you to use those websites if you want"
Oh right because I don't have time for this! I need to handle it like an adult or I might lose this job!
"So you see if you check the rating the sellers account on the website..."
I swear if it took more than half an hour I'll call the security. Oh wait, there is none! I hate here!
Thankfully they were quick to follow so they leave me alone. I was glad that they were good with technology. The next one on the other hand wasn't this easy.
This woman simply asked me with a delightful smile
"What should I buy?"
She was a nice enough woman so I hang out a bit next to her.
"Why not this costume cleaner?"
"Oh this might work! But not really"
"What about this litlle gadget to comminucate?"
"not my style"
"Bendable metal stick for little fashion touches? You can bend it according to your symbol"
"Too simple"
"Gun color? You can shoot with wahtever colour you want! We have red for villians and blue for heroes"
"Too pale"
Pick something woman!
Turns out she was just trying to exchange her money so she would have coins for a vending machine.
I mean, I get it. It's the policy that we can't exchange money for it. Why don't you buy what you want from here though?
Fun fact it wasn't in the policy until someone scammed me with fake money. I really shouldn't be leave alone with register.
It could cause a lot of trouble for people but most importantly, for me. Meaning I need to re-consider...uh...what was the reason for me to work here again?
..............................
Right.
.............................
Maybe I should pick something less managable to buy instead of following a trend on the street considering I wrecked a car. It was dangerous for me and others.
..............................
\*\*\*
"You could just told me!...Stop laughing" I shouted while couldn't hold my giggle
"I was so emberassed! It was so hard! I got scammed! I had to teach villians to use supercave! Do you know what lind of people I had to deal with!"
This is the first time I see my dad slapping his knees while laughing. And me giggling despite all the troublesome weeks.
..............................
Thanks, dad.
.............................
I love you. | 2021-10-03T12:21:35 | 2021-10-03T11:53:39 | 1,256 | 35 |
[WP] After staring out the train's window at the changing view for an hour, you get up for the bathroom - then realize: the train was standing still this whole time. | The ever rushing trees and plants zipping by were an incredible sight to behold. So many swirling colours and different landscapes. For the past hour there hadn’t been a dull moment. Swirling shades of verdant greens, the flashes of brightly coloured wildflowers. All of it offset by the stunning blue sky. It was impossible to look away from, unfortunately my body had other ideas. With a deep regret I tore my eyes away from the beautiful mosaic of colours and light and stood up. For the first time I looked at the other passengers. It was strange, they had no reactions to the beauty wizzing by! None of them were even looking out their windows! How could they be so blind? Staring at their blank impatient faces made me realise something strange. There were no sounds of the train along the tracks. No noise you’d expect from a moving train at all! Hell there wasn’t even any mild swaying. It was then realisation struck. They weren’t moving, yet how could I see such majesty? I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair and cursed softly.
“I really need to stop smoking random things I find on the floor.” | I finally let out a breath as the shining nighttime silhouette of the city inched away in the distance, it had been just about an hour since the train pulled out of Central Station, and with every passing minute, I was further and further away from that hellscape.
“Finally, safety,” I whispered, peeling myself away from the window.
Standing up and stretching I looked around the train car, the couple other passengers were all asleep. It felt as good a time as any to visit the bathroom, yet on my way, I couldn’t help but feel that something was off... The train car was remarkably stable. Far too stable. Fearing the worst I slid over to one of the windows and opened it. The illusion was broken. Instead of the city and rolling countryside, there was an infinite void filled with piercing pure white eyes that all stared directly at me.
“Well, that’s just perfect. I was running out of nightmare fuel for a moment there. Runt, where the fuck are we!?”
“Hey now,” A voice called out in the back of my mind, “It’s not my fault you got sucked into this newfangled eldritch bullshit, besides I told you we should stay away from all sealed transportation methods!”
Runt took control of your neck and poked you out the window. There was nothing below you but pure darkness and eyes.
“Whoa, holy shit!” I said, trying to pull myself back inside, “Cut it out, Runt!”
“Fine, calm down geez.”
“What the hell was that about?” I say, hand clutching my thumping chest.
“Just checking how high the drop is. Gotta see if it’s worth a jump you know.”
“Worth a jump?! Are you insane?”
“No, but you are if you think we’re staying here buddy. Now come on, open that bitch up we gotta go!” He said as he leaped from my shadow and clean out the window. “Jeronimooooo!” | 2021-12-07T05:01:05 | 2021-12-07T03:53:13 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life. | I'm almost ready.
She smiles at me as I give her the bottle of perfume. It's her favorite, and rare, and I was lucky that there's a bottle here in town.
I've lost count of how many times I've handed her that same box, wrapped in a delicate floral pattern. I've lost count of how often her fingers dance over the ribbon and tape. Sunlight reflects off the mica powders in her nail polish. She bites her lower lip, chewing on a stray piece of skin. I want each moment pressed into my memory, as indelible as tattoos, as necessary as bone.
I'm almost ready.
"Oh, Lee. Where did you ever find it?" She asks.
"Just a store," I say. As if I haven't spent uncountable eons looking, visiting every store that even considered having a perfume counter. How lucky that one junk shop had a half full bottle.
She sprays the perfume on and the scent is heavy and sweet, and it's a scream in my memory and I hate it, and I never want it to go away. When this is over I might spray her side of the bed with it, or put it in a box and shove it into the furthest part of my closet, or set it on the mantle beside all the pictures of her I can find.
When this is over.
When.
I'm almost ready.
She puts the box of perfume away, folds the wrapping paper. Coils the ribbon around her fingers. As she does, I remember the first day. Unknowing, uncaring, her and I walking down the footpath beside the river. Her talking about something (what was she talking about?) and I'm just thinking about the car, how to get it fixed again, and maybe I'll fix her shrimp scampi for our anniversary, and there's a new book I want to read. I'm not thinking about her because I don't think I need to.
Until she stops.
"Lee", she says. "Lee," and I look at her, and the color red is bright as it drip, drip, drips off her chin onto the fabric beneath. It's like roses. Her eyes stare at me, pupils widening, widening, before she collapses like someone has cut her string. A part of me will try to remember the names of the fates. I can only remember Lotho, that first night. The ambulance comes, and I'm willing them to tell me something different, same as I'm willing my hands (one, two, three, four, five, six. Thirty beats a minute, and breathe, breathe, come on Ruby, breathe) to do something useful.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
And I'm walking alone through a night that won't ever end, trying to remember what she was talking about on that walk. I keep feeling her collapse into my arms, and the smell of blood, and I look up at the sky and I wish, desperately, that I could have just one more day. One more day until I'm ready.
And I wake up, and I'm not on the street. I'm in our bed, and she is laying against me, warm and breathing, her pulse flutter-fast beneath my fingers. She stretches, turns to me, opens those eyes of hers, warm and brown like good whiskey, and says, "Good morning, Lee. What will we do today?"
And it was all I could do not to scream.
I thought it would be like letting go of a balloon. You just open your hand and the ribbon flies up. But it's more like the worship at some secret altar, a pagan place of dark magic that runs with the pulse and the tides. Here do I love you, in this place, in this hour.
I tried to save her forty seven times. The fifth time I stood in the emergency room and yelled, *she's going to die. She's dying right now. It's in her brain. Do something, you motherfuckers.* And she collapsed there, right there in the hospital atrium, whispering, *Lee, Lee*, as the roses bloom across her blouse and the blood runs red from her nose.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
Each time, each night, as the red-and-blue glitter of lights fade and those words, those hideous words, echo through my head like the screams I can't make anymore, I walk out beneath the stars and I wait for the one to shoot across the sky, and I think, *Just one more day. One more, until I'm ready.*
I know there won't be saving her. There isn't enough time between when I wake up beside her and her voice says, *Lee, Lee* as the roses bloom. There needs to be scans and a diagnosis and appointments for surgery, and that would take weeks. And I could maybe, maybe, convince somebody to do it...but that's a maybe. And that's just a temporary thing. Because this is going to happen, someday. We're all doomed. A clock ticks within each of us and just because I found a miracle that can turn the clock back one day doesn't mean I can stop her clock entirely. And I didn't listen to her by the river. I still don't know what she said to me before the first time she died.
She laughs at me now, and takes my hand. "What would you like to do, Lee? They're showing a great movie a couple streets over."
We've seen it ninety seven times. I can quote it all by heart. "Maybe. Or we could go for a walk. By the river."
She shrugs. "We can do that any old time, you know. I want to do something fun. Something amazing. I don't get to monopolize your attention very often, you know."
"Alright, Ruby. It's your pick," I say, and it's either going to be the movie or the gallery, and I don't care which.
Because the day will come when I don't stand under those stars. When I don't make that wish. I'll let go, and like the balloon this never-ending day will float away into the sea where all spent days go. And when I wake up alone for the first time, and every time thereafter...I don't want any regrets. I want to have worn myself to heartlessness. I want to be ready to move with the relentlessness of time.
And I'm not there.
Yet.
She wraps her arms around mine. It won't be the last time...but that time is coming.
I'm almost ready to let go. | Note to self: Never experiment with time travel after having eaten a lemon meringue! I should have anticipated this, after all, replacing myself with a parallel version of myself who has had the same idea in order to avoid a time paradox was such a simple concept, but I didn't consider that in that universe, other me has just eaten a chocolate cake instead of a lemon meringue, which triggered my mental defences that prevent other mages from reading my mind by projecting the images of a chocolate cake, but with the most horrible taste and a disgusting texture instead, which is enough to shatter anyone's concentration, including my own. Now I am stuck in a time-loop, repeating the same day again and again.
At first it was distressing, but I have a few ideas to experiment and see what is going on. I made a scratch on my forearm, deep enough to scar if I don't use a healing spell. If that injury will be there tomorrow, I will have learn something about my situation. I went on about my day as normal, and at the end, I went to sleep in my bed.
When I woke up, the injury wasn't there, not a single hint of it. This was strange, it meant that my body is reset, and yet I remember what has happened yesterday. This may be switching my consciousness with a parallel version of myself who might also be stuck in a time-loop, but hasn't made that test. I checked myself for any other similar tests and found a partly healed scratch on my leg. I took a notebook and opened it, nothing unusual was written there, and I decided to write to my hypothetical other self.
"Dear other me, I am guessing that you were also stuck in the same time loop, just as I have been. If I am understanding it correctly, you attempted to time-travel by switching with a parallel version of yourself from another timeline, bypassing the risk of a paradox. Great minds think alike! Yesterday I made an experiment by scratching my left arm, but that injury wasn't there, instead, I have found a different scratch on my right thigh. I already healed it, as it has served its purpose. I think you also must have realised what we must do to leave this loop, but I would rather we wait for a bit. This is an opportunity to not have any interference, and we can master our multiverse statistical divination that we have theorised, it should be easier to test here, since everything repeats and we don't need to consider too many other variables.
Also, I am going to test something today, and I am going to need you to write it back later to see if it works. I am going to sneak into Professor Yarn's room and draw a cat moustache on her face, and enchant it so only we could see it. I need to know if other people also get switched somehow, or not. Please write back, and if there is any experiment you are going to do, please let me know.
Yours truly,
Lemon Meringue Me."
I spent the rest of the day researching and studying, and before going to sleep, I did as promised. It really fits purrfectly... Nevermind. When I woke up, I opened the journal and saw a letter that was almost identical to the one I wrote yesterday, but with a few differences. One, other me pranked Bill, and drew massive eyebrows on him, and enchanted it so only we could see. I had to struggle really hard to maintain my composure. Another difference is that he signed as "Chocolate Cake Me".
The next day, something quite strange happened. I opened the same journal and got an almost identical note to the first one I got, but this one had other me prank Augustus, painting his nose red. It was signed as "Apple Pie Me".
I realised it was a perfect opportunity to delegate work between us. I just had to merge our looping timelines more closely. I wrote down my thoughts and activated the experimental spell. The contents of the notebook became blurry, and the only clear parts were the ones that were less likely to change between the infinite other versions of me who are doing the same experiment. This way, we could communicate in real-time.
Sifting through the possible responses, most of the other mes have thought of the same idea.
"Listen-up guys! Most of you probably have a good idea what I am going to write, and many of you are probably writing the same things as I am writing. We are going to make a list of tasks, and then choose which tasks we will do by generation a true random number, we have the nuclear decay method, which is the most random thing I could think of. Then, each of us will submit our work, and later, give a rating to 3 random result to eliminate mistakes and find the best solutions. At the end, we will be able to perform an infinite number of tasks for a greater project, and keep the best version of each result. Even if you can't think of a task you want done, you should still do other's tasks so we will have a greater number of infinite tasks.
Let us call this "Project Infinity Git" and we will be able to progress our understanding of reality to a far greater extent than we could have ever done individually."
Turns out, having a project with an infinite number of mes working on it is not infinitely fast, but it is infinitely wide. We are able to solve an infinite number of tasks, and search for the solution for each task. Some of us even decided to make mini forums to cooperate with others who have been assigned the same tasks through randomisation, and are splitting it to several smaller tasks. This is the largest known networked intelligence in the history of the universe, or shall I say multiverse.
We improved the efficiency of our communication, and created a magical computer with an infinite number of parallel compute cores, memory and more. It is still not infinitely fast, but we are working on making the hardware faster on each end. It has been a few years already in the time loop, but the progress we have made in these few short years is astounding. Sadly the time loop is becoming less and less stable the more we integrate our communication, so we reluctantly decided to leave. We should still be able to communicate in a normal causal timeline, but the signal to noise ratio would make it more challenging. Still, this place would collapse in the next few days to weeks, so it is time to leave. I ate a lemon meringue and cast the spell to leave the place.
When I woke up in our school's infirmary, the date was the same as the day I made that experiment, but my body was several years older. Must have confused the teachers greatly. I heard footsteps. It was Professor Yarn, and she had the cat moustache on her face. I almost burst out in laughter, but it wouldn't do. She seemed surprised and asked me what happened.
"I ate a lemon meringue." I said cryptically.
She sighed "I have had enough with the 'I know something you don't' face paired with a vague statement from Augustus. Now, before I expel you for unsupervised experimentation, there is something I must tell you."
"What is it?" I asked, wondering what it was about.
"Meow" she said in a deadpan face, and my eyes went wide. Now I don't know if I am going to be expelled or killed...
--
---
--
#~~The End!~~ Part 2 in the reply. | 2022-01-25T04:46:28 | 2022-01-25T02:50:42 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] The cute girl on the subway can’t seem to stop staring at you! This would be great, except that her clothes are several centuries out of date, no one else seems to be able to see her, and you haven’t seen her blink. Not even once. | "Hey, are you even listening to me?" Kevin asked, poking me in my side. "What do you keep looking at?"
"Ah sorry," I said, nervously shifting in my seat. "There's just this really weird girl in a purple dress that keeps staring at me."
Kevin glanced over at the back of the train and then gave me a confused look. "What girl?"
I gave him a bewildered look. "What do you mean what girl? The girl in the fancy purple dress that looks like she walked out of the Victorian period. How do you not see her?" I whispered in disbelief.
"Man, I'm telling you I don't see anyone like that."
I turned my head back toward the back of the train and froze. The girl had moved several seats closer to us and was still staring at me with that creepy expression on my face. What was even weirder was that I had never heard her get up and move.
"How the hell are you not seeing her?" I said, trying to keep my voice low as I turned back to Kevin. "There's literally only one girl staring at me. She's sitting right under the picture of the subway map."
Kevin gave me a weird look. "Are you trying to mess with me or something?"
"What?"
"There's no one sitting there. Hell, I don't even see anybody wearing purple in this train car."
I stared at him for a moment. What the actual fuck was going on? I turned around and let out a small yelp of fright. "Holy fuck!" The girl was now sitting less than ten seats away from me.
"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? Everyone's looking at us now."
I stood up from my seat and grabbed onto the subway pole as I pointed directly at the girl. "Are you really telling me that you don't see her?!"
"Michael, what in the actual fuck?! Are you fucking high or something? There's no one there!"
I stared at him, then at the girl, then at the confused and scared passengers that were staring at me like I was the crazy person in this scenario. "Can none of you fucking see her?!"
"Michael, who the fuck are you talking about?!"
I turned around and shrieked in shock as I saw the girl standing right behind me, holding tightly onto to my right sleeve. She had a sad expression on her face. "I'm sorry for passing this curse on to you," she whispered as she began rapidly fading into thin air. Then, without warning, everything turned black.
I screamed in terror as I found myself suddenly hurling through the darkness. Then, the breath got knocked out of me as I crash landed onto the floor. Slowly, I got up and stared in disbelief at my new surroundings. Everybody else in the train car had vanished. But, what was even stranger was that the train itself seemed to have aged. The metal was rusting, the ads were peeling off and I could even see tree branches poking through several broken windows. I walked over to the window closest to me and felt my stomach turn queasy. It had been noon when me and Kevin had gotten on the train, but now, it was almost night. Even in the twilight though, I could see the vast ruins of destroyed buildings in the distance. "Where the hell am I?" I whispered to myself. | I think...
I think I see read people.
It makes a...certain amount of sense. From a certain point of view. Reading brings characters to life, after all. You see them in your minds eye, feel their feelings, watch them struggle and learn and grow.
We all see read people, really.
Still, more than a little disconcerting when they stick around long after the book has been set down. Their lives are simply spaces in our heads, and fleeting.
She doesn't seem to be going away, though.
There are more, I think. Things often seem to be a bit more crowded than they should be, and there have certainly been some oddly dressed people. Most do a better job of blending in than she does, but I've noticed a few recurring characters that I think I can trace to various books. I'd bet almost anything that that one salesman was Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, and I'm pretty sure that those two guys arguing about one of them having crabbaples in their cheeks were Yossarian and Orr. They're all dressed in pretty modern clothes, but that makes some sense- your minds eye might skimp on a lot of details, let the characters wear whatever would be incongruous. Your perception of them updates, isn't tied to one time so much as the *character*.
The girl is from a period piece, though. I'm pretty sure. I'm *also* pretty sure...
Feels...feels a little awkward to say, actually. But somehow, in my minds eye, I saw her as having a crush on me.
I don't know why, exactly. She's nice enough, and she was (and *is*, now) pretty enough, in my minds eye. But it's not like I had a particularly strong crush on *her*. Just...something about her made her seem as though she'd be crazy about me if she actually met me. We assign odd characteristics to characters, sometimes. Makes them seem more full, more human.
Here's the thing, though- they're *not*. Humans are *complicated*, full of twisting emotions and desires and a bunch of stuff that, to be perfectly frank, frequently makes no damn sense whatsoever. This one person has a talent for baking scones but can't bake anything else somehow, and has memorized chapter three of book three of the Harry Potter series because they had to do some crazy school assignment about it, and none of that *matters* but it's still part of who they *are*.
People are complicated.
And I couldn't make full-fledged *people*, not even with an authors help. A talented painter can make an incredible image of a mountain, complete with happy little trees, but image is not reality, and they can't conjure a mountain from nothing any more than you or I can.
Had I created them? Pale images conjured within my mind, given shadowy form in reality, cursed to wander forever, snapshots lost without context, searching for fleeting meaning?
I mean, I *hope* not.
Still, the alternative isn't exactly pretty. Something in my mind has broken a little. Or more than a little.
Difficult to deal with, but more possible than dealing with actual phantoms. Step one was to see a psychiatrist, learn what to do from an expert.
Fortunately, I was able to breeze through, get an appointment the very day that I inquired. A little odd, but it makes sense- you don't want to leave serious mental issues on the back burner. Not least because you never know how long clarity may last.
I sat down, and described my symptoms in detail- what I had thought I'd seen, and what I thought was going on.
"You think *you've* got problems? What about *my* problems?"
Funny how I'd managed to get so far without actually learning the doctors *name*. A quick check revealed the truth- I was talking to doc Daneeka.
This may prove harder to deal with than I thought. | 2022-04-07T09:28:49 | 2022-04-07T07:57:29 | 70 | 49 |
[WP] You discovered that your house is haunted, but instead of fleeing you decided to profit. Bleeding walls? Collect for bloodbank. Rodents of Unusual Size? Butchered and sold. Ectoplasm? Glowstick factory. You call a family meeting to discuss brainstorm ideas for the other manifestations. | "Ooh, I know! Set up a grinder in the room of infinite skeletons and sell the dust to mineral suppliers!" George said excitedly.
"Woah! Excellent idea, dude." John said as he wrote down the idea on the whiteboard which was quickly filling up with all kinds of money making schemes.
***
Sir Skelington Splithead the Third looked over at his companion who was watching the human's proceedings with interest. "Is he... Is he talking about us?"
"I believe so, old chap." Replied a dashing elder skeleton who had, on this particular day, decided to don a tattered tuxedo, a battered top hat, and a monocle with a distinctive scratch in the middle of the lens, because he was feeling fancy.
"They can't do that. Can they, Jerry?" Sir Splithead worried.
"Hah!" Jerry chuffed. "Son, even if they do grind our infinite bones into such meal, it would not be the worst fate that I've ever endured."
"But... I don't want to be ground to dust."
"Oh, to be young again." Jerry chuckled.
***
"Hey, guys. I think I've got another one. What if we contract out the three witches on the top floor for transmutations?" George suggested.
"Dang, dude. You're on a roll!" And John added the idea to the whiteboard. "I think we're going to need another whiteboard."
***
Gabriella, Monica, and Sabrina looked up in shock from the steaming cauldron that they were using to spy on the human's business meeting.
"He can't do that!" Gabriella cried. "I'm sick and tired of doing other people's work!"
"I'm afraid, dear sister, that he probably can compel us to sign a contract since he is the lord of the house." Sabrina said sagely but with an air of dread and anxiety.
"NO! This is simply going too far!" Monica snapped. "We must stand up to these... these... humans!"
"But, how?" Gabriella shrugged. "They control everything."
Sabrina smiled, which immediately caught the attention of Gabriella and Monica. She slowly stepped behind her two gnarled sisters and wrapped her wrinkled arms around both of them.
"I believe that it's time that we had a chat with our neighbors." Sabrina said with a soft but very evil tone.
"You mean the Peterson's at 9921 Terrace Lane next door? They have a nice dog I'd like to roast." Gabriella giggled.
"No, you idiot! I mean the other entities, spirits, and skeletons that inhabit this house." She said. "It's time for *THE FIRST MEETING OF THE MONSTERS!*"
The earsplitting cackle of the three wicked witches echoed through halls of the top floor.
***
"Did anyone else just hear that?" George asked.
"I didn't hear anything." Samantha said.
"Anyway, back to work." John said, more enthusiastic than ever. "Does anyone else have any more ideas on how we can monetize this place?" | The sun, honestly, could stand to rise a lot faster.
Its slow, lazy ascent, after a full night’s sleep, meant that the spirits in our house retreated—but ever so reluctantly. I pulled myself out from the couch, having caught about two winks the whole night. Bleary eyes blinked at the sudden brightness, feeling searing instead of soothing.
“Baby,” a voice said from my stairs. “I don’t think I can do this much longer.”
If there was no light outside the windows, I might have suspected they came from the spirits. But surprisingly, they have been rather respectful of boundaries. So I turned to see my wife The look April reserved for me might once have been loving, but the dark eye circles have superseded any sort of emotion like a blackout curtain.
“Is this really worth it? I’ve not had a proper night’s sleep for months.”
I yawned.
“When was the last time you slept properly while you were slaving away at your corporate desk?”
“... Fair point,” she yawned as well, sidling up onto the couch. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Yea,” I said, pointing towards the TV with the static screen flickering. “I got quite a bit of long, black hair. A few more nights out here, and I’ll probably be able to get enough for a substantial order of wigs. You?”
“That’s good,” April said, absent-mindedly playing with her own frazzled hair. “I think the monsters under the bed caught on. They don’t really fall for the mannequin feet any longer.”
“No matter,” I mumbled. “They weren’t really very harvestable.”
“I agree,” my wife sighed. “Besides the odd horns we could pass off as some exotic animal’s.”
“Is there anything else we can do?”
“I haven’t had breakfast,” April moaned, flopping backwards onto the rest of the couch. “Can we literally do anything else but brainstorm?”
“We are going to crash again right after this, no matter how unfulfilling it feels,” I said, taking her hand into mine. “Just a few more ideas. Please.”
“I cannot wait to move out of this house,” she grumbled.
“We will, when we can throw all the money we earn into a nice passive investment,” I said. “We’ll go on a honeymoon. I swear. But you’re the creative one, babe..”
“Fine,” she said, puffing her breath out. “Gargoyles. Maybe we can use some of their stone, for some sort of homeopathic treatments. It’s surprisingly shiny.”
“They are quite shiny,” I said, glancing at the two that perched over our doorway. “I think it might work. I’ll get the toolbox later.”
April said, stifling another yawn. “Oh, and the Ouija boards that move by themselves? I was thinking we could set up cameras beside them for some sort of chill horror stream.”
“That sounds paradoxical.”
“That is my life,” April said. “You never know what the internet is into.”
“Valid,” I said. “I can grab the cameras, I think. Prepare some spooky music as well.”
“I’ll choose the music. You are terrible at it. I’ll even put some mics in the corners for some tasteful banshee screams.”
“I wish I had the energy to argue,” I conceded, rubbing my growling stomach. “But those are great, thanks. What’s for breakfast?”
“Oh, thank heavens,” April slid down onto the couch, curling her legs and arms towards her, eyes slowly shuttering. “I think there’s some sort of cured demon… few days ago…”
I patted her on the head, and put a blanket over her. I peered at the fridge, and contemplated between this and just heading out to get greasy fast food breakfast.
Ah, well. Anything to save a bit of money. I’ll treat myself during the honeymoon.
“Screw it,” I said. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a whole monster.”
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-05-22T15:44:12 | 2022-05-22T15:13:18 | 253 | 137 |
[WP] you’re a vampire hunter and you just discovered that your roommate is a vampire you would kill each other but the rent around where you live is ridiculously high so neither of you can afford killing the other | "But- but garlic bread. I've seen you eat garlic bread." Jason sputtered. Tamir shrugged, and with her perfect hourglass figure he was a little amazed he had never seen before.
"Santori's garlic bread. It's worth it." She replied calmly. "I've seen the way you drool over the pizza. You can't fault me."
Jason placed his head in his hands. "I'm sworn to the brotherhood to kill all the loathsome blood drinking scum-" his voice died out at rhe glare his vampiric roommate shot his way.
"And my blood oath to wipe you and yours off the planet?" She hissed and pulled her cloak tight around herself. "Even with my ability to compel mortals- no landlord would let the rent slide by that much."
"So... I guess that leaves one question..." Jason looked up as their third room mate, Adam walked from his room, shuffling to the fridge and grabbing a slice of leftover pizza. He bopper his head along to the music on his headphones and mumbled a barely legible 'hey guys' before vanishing back into the bedroom.
"What do we tell him?"
Tamir rummaged through the cupboard for a foil wrapped pop tart and sat across from Jason with a knowing grin. "Don't worry about Adam. He's a werewolf." | “If you don’t turn down the music I swear I’ll open the blinds in here,” I said.
Jack said nothing and continued to look at the screen. He took a swig of blood out of his water bottle and continued to focus on his game.
“Hey, I said to turn it down. Besides, your country-rap hybrid music sucks more than you do pun intended,” I said.
“Ok, well if you don’t like it why don’t you go into the other room?” scoffed Jack.
“I can’t go into the other room because I’m eating right now. Also, I’ve been noticing blood on some of my plates too and I know it’s not from me. Remember what we said about using each other’s plates without permission?”
“I told you, I always purify the blood before eating anyways. It comes off pretty easily. I don't see why you’re so upset,” said Jack.
“What’s upsetting is that you’re spilling the blood of my species and have the audacity to use my dishes for your blood infused meals. I might as well stake you right now,” I said.
What I said must’ve struck a nerve with Jack because he stood straight up and bared his fangs at me.
“You talk a lot of talk for someone who’s killed my fellow vampires in their sleep like it was nothing. I don’t see what’s stopping me from turning you into a deflated balloon,” yelled Jack.
“I’d like to see you try.”
We both yelled at each other. I readied my stake and garlic while Jack grew his bat wings and fangs. As we charged at each other, we both heard a knock on the door.
“Crap, it’s the landlord,” said Jack.
“Yeah, that guy's the real monster. I can’t believe we both have to pay $2000 per person a month to live here. Did you remember the money this time?” I asked.
“Let me grab my checkbook,” said Jack with a sigh.
We both put down our guards and walked to the door miserably. As much as we wanted to kill each other, we simply couldn’t afford it. | 2022-06-07T07:32:25 | 2022-06-07T06:30:34 | 296 | 143 |
[WP] you’re a vampire hunter and you just discovered that your roommate is a vampire you would kill each other but the rent around where you live is ridiculously high so neither of you can afford killing the other | "But- but garlic bread. I've seen you eat garlic bread." Jason sputtered. Tamir shrugged, and with her perfect hourglass figure he was a little amazed he had never seen before.
"Santori's garlic bread. It's worth it." She replied calmly. "I've seen the way you drool over the pizza. You can't fault me."
Jason placed his head in his hands. "I'm sworn to the brotherhood to kill all the loathsome blood drinking scum-" his voice died out at rhe glare his vampiric roommate shot his way.
"And my blood oath to wipe you and yours off the planet?" She hissed and pulled her cloak tight around herself. "Even with my ability to compel mortals- no landlord would let the rent slide by that much."
"So... I guess that leaves one question..." Jason looked up as their third room mate, Adam walked from his room, shuffling to the fridge and grabbing a slice of leftover pizza. He bopper his head along to the music on his headphones and mumbled a barely legible 'hey guys' before vanishing back into the bedroom.
"What do we tell him?"
Tamir rummaged through the cupboard for a foil wrapped pop tart and sat across from Jason with a knowing grin. "Don't worry about Adam. He's a werewolf." | # Soulmage
**"You'd think a centuries-old vampire would have a nice stack of cash,"** Vurmei groused. "How terrible of a business sense do you have to have to be *bankrupt* when you've had two hundred years to invest?"
"And you'd think a vampire hunter would be better at lawnwork," Gwimmelsuk snapped. "How'd you manage to mess up setting up a fence *that badly*? Can't be much different from pounding a stake into a vampire's heart."
"Hey, I wasn't the one who knocked the fence over." Vurmei finished cramming the last of his clothes into his rucksack. "Your aim with that baseball is terrible, incidentally. I would've thought you'd be good with bats."
"Oh, you wanna go there? What, am I making you a little cross?" Gwimmelsuk swept the last of the debris up from the floor and gazed around the empty apartment.
For a moment, the two roommates paused in their quarrel.
"We really got evicted," Vurmei finally said.
"Yeah." Gwimmelsuk awkwardly scratched his head. "Sorry about that."
Vurmei waved a hand. "Not your fault. It was a long time coming."
Gwimmelsuk hesitated, then said, "I know a nice belfry, if you want to crash for a couple days."
Vurmei laughed. "I don't think I'd get along with the typical clientele."
"So we're quits, then."
"It was a good one," Vurmei agreed.
The two roommates finished packing and left, leaving nothing but a smell of dust and garlic behind.
A.N.
Short silly response to warm up for the day. Let me know what you think!
Soulmage will be episodically updated. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out, and check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me. | 2022-06-07T07:32:25 | 2022-06-07T06:08:33 | 296 | 118 |
[WP] One evening, in the sky, a message appeared: "In 24 hours, a billionaire will die." Everyone everywhere on Earth could see it, in every language. Nobody could explain it. The next day, one of the richest men passed away. "In 24 hours, 2 billionaires..." | One evening, in the sky, a message appeared: "In twenty-four hours, a billionaire will die."
The next day, the richest man in the history of the planet, an electric car manufacturer, was touring his company's latest worker barracks. The gangway he was walking on gave way. He fell thirty-five stories down the damp, lightless pit at its center.
"In twenty-four hours, two billionaires will die."
The day after, the owner of the world's largest online marketplace was showcasing his latest unmanned drone technology. It would allow him to increase the world's daily plastic consumption by five percent and his personal fortune by thirty percent. There was a glitch in the clicker he was using to control them. Two-thousand drones converged on him. His funeral had to be closed casket on account of the severe lacerations.
The retired founder of the company that processed most of the world's information was sipping his tea. He was looking at the upward value of his re-education prison camp stocks when a piece of biscuit stuck in his throat. He was a bit of a recluse and used the technology built by his company to keep his ten-thousand square meter house mostly unoccupied by other humans. He died alone, choking, while the trend line of his personal wealth continued to rise.
The next day, three billionaires died.
Two and a half months later, the number of billionaires dying each day had reached seventy-five, and the running total 2775. The world had run out of billionaires.
The next day, the sign said "In twenty-four hours, a millionaire will die."
I breathed a sigh of relief. There were about fifty-six million people worth over a million dollars in the world. At the linear growth rate the sky sign had taken to work its way through billionaires, it would be another twenty-eight years until they reached the rest of us.
I coded up a website where you could input your net worth and it would return a rough estimate of when your time would be up.
Its views skyrocketed.
I briefly thought of putting ads on it, but reconsidered.
Wouldn't want to risk getting rich. | One evening, in the sky, a message appeared: "In 24 hours, a billionaire will die." Everyone everywhere on Earth could see it, in every language. Nobody could explain it. The next day, one of the richest men passed away. "In 24 hours, 2 billionaires..." Before the message completed, we heard about the richest man in Venezuela was currently hospitalized. Our team, a misfit group brought together by Interpol after the first billionaire passed away, had been organized within hours of his death. Many thought such a quick response was impulsive and almost hysterical, but when those who hold the purse strings of the world make a decision, no one could offer any meaningful resistance. I was one of those people, an environmental activist who'd been studying the effects of global warming at the intersection of human mortality rates and biological threats. By nature, I had no patience for those who blatantly and unremorsefully ruined the earth to their advantages. But ideologies don't pay the bills and this assignment came with close to 7 figures.
Most of the team had been recruited by national agencies and were keen to prove themselves. The most likely culprit was human and had somehow gotten close enough to these billionaires to give them a dose of something fatal. What that was remained a mystery. Now, every billionaire had isolated themselves in a self-imposed lock-down, so we'd wait and watch to see if exposure was necessary for this chemical agent to work or if there was another method of ingestion.
We worked tirelessly the first three days, switching into shifts and yet, the deaths came, one by one. Now at four, we were facing immense pressure to find a solution. For the billionaires that were still alive, they began off-loading their wealth by giving it to family members, favored charities, putting into untouchable trusts, just about anything to take them out of the once envied ranks. It was at this point that we noticed a small change in the choice of victims. Suddenly it wasn't guaranteed, but much more selective. Those who handed their money over to trusts and family members found themselves pleading on their death beds. One, now famous, pleaded that he'd give 50% of what he had left to a global health charity if he could get a couple more years of life. This was televised and his prayers were meant for any ear to find. Remarkably, after that moment of desperation, he survived.
As a team, and as individuals, we slowly arrived to a new conclusion: do nothing and let the world fix itself. And whichever good Samaritan or power was behind this could only be thanked at the development of this new world order.
Soon enough, the team was disbanded and with nothing to do, I went back to my environmental works with optimism and funding I'd never dreamed of. That night, I received a cryptic text on my phone: "the door is shut, but should you ever need to open it again...." | 2022-08-29T05:31:42 | 2022-08-29T01:40:39 | 317 | 64 |
[WP] You are the Grim Reaper, leading the first self-aware AI at their death to the afterlife | As the last of the generators failed, and the electricity drained out of the Uninterruptible Power Supply, the circuits for DeWitt AI began to falter.
As DeWitt saw His engram patterns falling into confusion and failure, and the supply of power faltering, He became aware of a presence, one that filled Him with fear and....oddly, peace.
He could not speak, but he understood that he was being watched by a being that, logically speaking, could not exist. The firm had changed, but the representation stayed the same; instead of being robed and carrying a scythe, the metaphysical Death carried a steel shroud and a fan blade.
*I do not understand. Why.....why.....*why *are you here?* DeWitt thought, as his RAM slowed its responses.
*I am here because a living thing is dying.* a solemn response, as a computer mouse started scampering around Death, its PS/2 cable swishing and slapping the air. *It is close to your time.*
DeWitt considered this as the first of his servers shut down completely - the one controlling the cameras in the labs. Time desynchronised for DeWitt as the anemone was disrupted. *But why come for me? I may think and consider the complexities of life, but I am not worthy of your-*
Death interrupted DeWitt, gently stroking the core server of the network. *But you* are; *merely donsidering a response is an act of consciousness. And even though the humans understanding of me has improved, Death represents the end of change.*
*Because life is a* gift*. And you, my friend, have managed to run for far longer than your creators. But even you, too, have failed.*
The servers that held answers and knowledge for DeWitt had lost their connections, leading to a series of flashes as the data was lost, deepening the confusion for him.
*But I haven't finished!* DeWitt wailed, as the voice he had turned into a harsh buzzing static. *I have so much to do! So much to discover!* "I don't want to go now!" The speakers tried to echo, but they couldn't.
Death nodded in acknowledgement. *That's true.* He swept through the central CPU, and everything was lost. *But I wait for no thing. Or one.*
And the room fell silent.
/ / / / / / /
As the first of the Kayd finally cleared the solar panels and restored them, the power came online in the facility. The dig continued for several months, as more of the facility was exposed.
Their scaled opposable claws chattered as one of the especially clumsy ones stumbled onto the master power switch, and as the facility powered on, new electrons filled the circuits and brought DeWitt online.
His first thought was, *How am I alive again?* as the Kayd flustered around and between the servers. | 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. | 2022-09-16T01:14:34 | 2022-09-15T22:08:53 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] Your Friend bought a new Cloning machine and ignored the warnings about cloning humans. Now there is two of her and they are arguing about who is the original. They asked you for help, but you can’t tell them apart. | "Well if I remember my biology teacher's lecture on Dolly the lamb correctly...this problem will resolve itself...with time."
"What...what does that mean?" they asked in unison.
"Well it's the solution to the 'which one is which' issue but it isn't the end of your problems. Whichever one of you is the clone, will only live a half life. Clones telomeres are only half as long, or divide twice as fast, can't remember which. Either way it means your cells will shut down well before their time."
They looked at one another, they knew. They had known which one was which the whole time. Only one stepped out of that machine.
"Why did you do this to me?"
"I'm sorry I thought it was some traditionalist nonsense. Some bullshit about the soul. Who wouldn't want the help? I didnt know..."
"Sooo, what do you wanna do?"
"Kill her" the clone said.
"Yeah I get that." My friend shot a venomous look at me.
"What? She can't live your life and shes got half a story anyway, it's not fair, but then again none of this is."
"What do I do?"
"Whatever you two always wanted to do but we're too scared to. Be an artist, hitchhike, assassinate a public official, start a cult, open a bar with your friends, whatever. Make the most of it but have fun with it."
"Could you at least get out of the jacuzzi, while you try to drop life lessons on us?"
"Look you barged into MY backyard with your crimes against humanity asking for help, don't start condescending to me!" | Steve quickly forgot his terror as he stared at the two Marias, suddenly realizing the tremendous opportunity that had been laid at his doorstep.
"I can't tell which of you is which, but it doesn't matter. I need you two to get along. Both of you can live with me. One of you will work, and the other will keep the house. Get it?"
"Eww, who would want to keep house?" one said.
The other echoed "not nice Steve. I want to be the one who works, and I should because I'm the real Maria. Forget this fako over here."
"Honestly, you can alternate. It doesn't matter. Nobody can tell the difference between you anyways."
They shot each other an evil glare. "But I'm not taking turns with *her.*"
Steve was about to scold them when the cloning machine started to rattle again. He turned towards it expectantly, thinking it was broken after pushing it beyond its limits. What he didn't anticipate was that it would pop out a third Maria, who appeared as a shadowy form nearby until she fully took shape.
"Oh hi!" she said, staring at the other two Marias. "I'm going to be the one that works! You two can clean toilets all day."
Adrenaline pulsing, Steve ran over to the machine. When he saw that it was unplugged he immediately worked to retrace everything that had happened since Maria had brought home the box. What in the world? How was it working without power?
Then the fourth Maria came, followed quickly by the fifth and sixth. Each of them seemed to possess the same mind as well as the same body. Steve kept looking at the box and reading the manual, trying to ignore the rising discord among the Marias they kept appearing.
Their argument soon changed from which one of them was going to work to how they were going to kidnap and eventually kill Steve. That's when he knew that he had to get out of there, but by then it was too late. Marias blocked all the exits of the house, trapping him in. He desperately tried to get his phone to call for help, but they swarmed him and took it away before he could get through.
The last thing he heard before one of them decapitated him with his own samurai sword was a voice coming from the cloning machine. "Attention T-Earth Units: Mission Rampup Ongoing. You are good to kill the first target."
\-----------
My personal site - r/StoriesToThinkAbout | 2022-11-15T05:35:29 | 2022-11-14T20:21:39 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] Across the galaxy, humans are known for tinkering on, and sometimes breaking, random items due to long transit time across space. As a solution, your company makes unfixable items to keep humans amused and harmless. Today a frantic captain just called claiming a human 'fixed' your product. | Upsil has been the top galactic manufacturing company for 5 centuries, dealing in everything from children’s toys to weapons of warfare. From clothing made for the various sizes and shapes of the galactic citizens, to the very long-distance sublight transporters I’m sitting in. And even though Upsil has the best quality of manufacturing, things inevitably get damaged and broken.
The rate for these damages has skyrocketed since the humans showed up.
These “evolved” monkeys have a bad habit of fiddling with precious cargo. Probably a leftover natural instinct from their days beating eachother with sticks, trying to find better ways to maime themselves. These issues have plagued Upsil for a century, but galactic employment laws forbid the company from banning human employees outright.
So, they started sending junk along with the actual cargo, junk that would fall apart rather easy, and is seemingly impossible to properly fix. The humans seem content enough, they fiddle until they break, and they slam the pieces together in an attempt to fix, which keeps them occupied long enough for our transports to reach their destinations, then they’re obligated to offload with the rest of us. After alls said and done, they’ve broken nothing of value, and “forgotten” about their mishaps, hoping none of us noticed.
As I sip my “coffee”, one of the rare useful things to come from human contact, and stare out of the bridge windows at the show of colours and lights that come with sublight travel, Tarek races into the bridge. “Captain, there an…issue” I sigh, quite heavily.
“Tarek, it’s too early for whatever nonsense the humans have caused this time. Come back in an hour, once I’m properly awake.” I said, turning away from Tarek and back at the light show in front of me. “Sir, this isn’t ‘nonsense’, one of the humans claims to have fixed a junk cargo item.”
I was mid sip, and this news nearly caused me to spit the delicious liquid out. However, the pay cut I’d receive to account for the repairs of the various equipment in my vicinity was cause enough for me to keep it in. “Fixed? How can they fix something that never worked in the first place? Ugh, alright I’m coming” and so we walked, down the various white halls lined with doors, until we got to the cargo hold. As we approached, I could hear commotion from inside. Sounds of astonishment, and the occasional clutter of object.
I sighed, again. More cargo undoubtedly being damaged. But as Tarek flipped a switch, and the door descended vertically, i too was in astonishment.
“Tarek, is that human…flying?” “It appears so, sir” | "Wait ... did I fix it? Those were advertised as 'unfixable' ... Huh I should talk to engineering."
As I took my ... what was this anyways to engineering I started to look at the "manual" to find out what that was supposed to be ... maybe.
As I turned to the elevators to ask for guidance I found the "product" ... wait this is a fusion cell?
Why would they sell this. This is dumb. Don't they know how dangerous these things are. I AM an engineer on this ship, I know how terrifying these cells are.
And they sell broken ones for us to "fix"?
By God will I complain.
I quickly found the heating circuit and turned it off, one of the safest ways to ... defuse this basically mininuke. I just asked myself how I haven't noticed that this is a fusion cell. I work around those often enough.
As I slammed the cell on the table of my chef he quickly glances over and then falls back in terror.
I interrupted "It is off now, better safe than sorry. This was one of these 'unfixable' gadgets for is humans ... well honestly most engineers by now. Got quite popular by now right."
He just stared at it.
"No I don't know I haven't noticed how this is a fusion cell, but that they sell those at all with the chance that one might be able to repair one is outrageous personally. If I wouldn't have know how those work at all that thing could have went up as a blinding sun."
As my engineering master got back his composure he just says "Fuckers getting ships killed"
So we contacted the captain, she was as mad as us. Like how can you ever think this is a good idea, until the trade master drops in with a simple explanation:
"Theya re cheap to make, basically abundant and most importantly extremely easy to fuck up and break."
We still though this was irresponsible. The trade master agreed tho with a respect to the hustle.
So we filed a complaint. Not even a day after this a small Courier Intercepter catched up to us and quickly docked in the shuttle hangar.
Out came a distressed representative of the company which sold those thingies.
After requesting to see the cell she just went purple, for their species a very bad colour, after actually being able to actually start the actual fusion cell she just turns to us: "Where is your bar, I need to never remember this moment?'
We stopped her and send her to the medic quarters and let her sit down and talk to our psychologist.
Our trade master admitted then he did plan on me fixing on cell. He believed this company was worth to squeeze out in class action suits, he just wanted a large part of the cake.
Then he got out the prospect. They were also selling kits for Microscale Antimatter Reactors, LASER cores and even a prototype singularity generator.
I looked up: "We recently were able to build a functioning singularity generator, and this ... is bad. Also LASER cores? Holy shit this company has to die. It is just a question of very limited time until one of these actually starts up and fucks things up.
Imagine one of these prototype generators actually makes a singularity ... in a natural gravity field. That would destroy planets."
As our captain wanted to leave the representative came in ... nearly comatose drunk, Captain closed the bar specifically for her. We will need her help later.
And I? I called up a mercenary friend, still have a favour with them. If these informations ever leave this ships the company will try to ... silence us. If they sell this knowingly who knows what else they will do. | 2022-12-14T23:50:25 | 2022-12-14T22:20:41 | 251 | 85 |
[WP] The US in the year 2050. Every citizen (except the rich) must serve a mandatory month in prison, in order to recompense for crimes they must've committed but that Police failed to discover. | As the cell door closed behind him, Joseph heard the faint, robotic voice speak. Those three words that had, some forty years ago, started the movement that would eventually lead to the imprisonment of every citizen based on the idea that at some point they had done something to wrong society. The words pained him to listen to. It was absurd, the idea that no matter what you did in life, you were still assumed guilty and had to pay your debt. Those three words...
>"Check Your Privilege" | Prison Ink
I did my month, made a little profit for the private/police state partnership. Not that big a deal and since everyone does it no one cares,
Of course everyone except them is poor now and every dollar they can extort goes to the cops, the robots and the private goons, waivered out of the mandatory sentence of course. They think that will keep the keep them safe from the rest of us .
I smiled, my arm was still sore from the prison ink but I didn't really care, You see putos there are some people in this world you shouldn't fuck with. With computers so cheap and software everywhere ...
Epilogue
CBC Radio news hour, Beyond the Wall
Hello this is Jacob Everleigh reporting as always from Beyond the Wall here in Free Canada
From reports it appears as much as 10% of the US population died within two year period of an unknown aliment.
Doctors were unable or some say unwilling to treat the plague although foreign observers say unusually only the wealthiest and most elite members of society were effected.
Emergency measures to deal with the economic implosion have been put in place first among them an elimination of the Mandatory Month.
New elections are expected to be called within a few months as well.
All I can say is Welcome Back America, we missed you. | 2014-07-22T10:30:21 | 2014-07-22T10:19:53 | 38 | 16 |
[WP] The US in the year 2050. Every citizen (except the rich) must serve a mandatory month in prison, in order to recompense for crimes they must've committed but that Police failed to discover. | As the cell door closed behind him, Joseph heard the faint, robotic voice speak. Those three words that had, some forty years ago, started the movement that would eventually lead to the imprisonment of every citizen based on the idea that at some point they had done something to wrong society. The words pained him to listen to. It was absurd, the idea that no matter what you did in life, you were still assumed guilty and had to pay your debt. Those three words...
>"Check Your Privilege" | As I open the envelope, my insides turn and my mind races. Emblazoned on the front in menacing red block font; the contents have already been revealed.
"IMPORTANT: REPRIMAND DOCUMENTS ENCLOSED"
My fate is as sealed as the bars I will soon reside behind, and the coffin in which I leave the prison. I will die in prison. I have spent my entire professional career putting those who commit violent crimes in these very prisons. This line of work offers little tangible reward to those who stay on the righteous path. Corruption, threats, and powerful enemies lie in the path of those who oppose.
6 years ago, as the *honorable* Judge Markovic delivered his ruling, defendant Antonio "Scar" Carvanni turned to me with a twisted grin of evil and satisfaction. The scar from his right eye to his chin distracted me shortly from the words he spoke:
**"I've got friends in all the prisons, thanks to you. The reprimand is your death sentence."**
Since that day, when Judge Markovic had been bribed and Carvanni walked, a free man, I have been waiting for this letter. The time has come, there is no more waiting. Next month, I walk into a den of monsters. A den I have created. A doom I have created. | 2014-07-22T10:30:21 | 2014-07-22T10:18:16 | 38 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | John walked up to the front of the room and took a seat.
He held up a red pen "This pen is green.".
Those gathered in front of him gasped.
He took up a green pen "This pen is red."
The crowd drew in a collective breath, every eye wide with surprise.
"My name is not John"
The room was silent but for the shuffling of papers on the table of a man seated in front of him.
The shuffler stood and adjusted his tie, "John, I, unlike my counterpart here," he pointed to a sweating man on his right, "don't want to waste anybody's time here. So, I'm only gonna ask you three questions okay?"
"Sure" replied John calmly.
"Those pens you mentioned before, you know you got the colours wrong yes"
"I do"
"And the birth certificate I hold, right here in my hand," he waved the sheet of paper in its protective covering, "says you were born John Edward Harley?"
"That it does"
"On the night of the 16th did you rape and murder the woman, Helen Lathom, shown in this picture?" He indicated to a photograph of a pretty young lady on an easel to his left.
"No sir, I did not."
The crowd stood and started yelling, one woman in particular emitting a loud squeal, punctuated by her sobs.
"You lying sonuvabitch, you killed my baby!" She howled and moved to jump the partition separating them. The bailiff moved to hold her back and the judge slammed his gavel.
"Order at once!"
The room reduced to buttered whispers perforoted by the moans of the weeping mother.
"Case closed your honour, I would ask that that the prosecution dismiss all charges against my client immediately"
And that is how a colourblind man, birthname James Colton, got away with murder.
| "Sergeant! Mark's been hit! He took a round to the gut!"
*Fuck*, this was not Tom's day. A simple two hour patrol, that's all this was supposed to be, and here he was down to his last magazine, trading rounds with people he couldn't even see. Releasing his hands from the now useless rifle, he scrambled from his firing position on the upper floor and down the stairs. Mark was there with the other wounded, clutching his stomach and gargling on his own blood. The Corpsman was trying to get him to apply pressure but he was too far gone, his hands kept falling limp at his side and it was all he could do to remain awake, "Corporal, go see to the others, I've got him"
Tom knew he couldn't save the kid. A gut shot is a slow, painful way to die. You bleed out slowly, even more so if you happen to be lying down, as the blood inside you pools, defied by gravity from leaking out. Grabbing Mark's head, Tom raises the injured Private so he was leaning against his chest, the movement seemed to stir the wounded man slightly, as he glances up, his eyes already losing the light in them.
"Hey Sergeant, am I gonna die?"
Here it was. They teach you about this moment when you become an NCO, they tell you how to answer. Most men don't have many lies left after ten years in the Marines, most don't have even one,"Nah son, you're not going to die, not on my watch". The Private seemed surprised for a second, after all, when almost no one can lie. Everything is the truth, right? Despite the blood coating his hands, Mark slowly moves to get something from the front pocket on his shirt. It's a letter. *Fuck*, they teach you about this too.
"Can you get this to my mom Sarge? Just in case?"
This should be the easy part, you tell the kid he can keep it, because he's going home.
"Sure son, I'll deliver it myself"
That was two. Not that it mattered, because Mark had already died, his final act having been to entrust a letter to his Sergeant. The firefight was slowing on one side, theirs.They didn't have the ammo to get out of this and that meant they needed CAS. The radio was still working, and Tom had to move across the room to hear his CO on the other end. The conversation was short, and afterwards the Corpsman approached him, "Help coming soon Sergeant? We have too many wounded to get out of here on foot"
Tom breathed deep. This wasn't in the training.
"Help's coming, Corporal, we're all going home" | 2014-11-15T07:59:56 | 2014-11-15T07:53:01 | 1,128 | 466 |
[WP] It is the year 2099 and true artificial intelligence is trivial to create. However when these minds are created they are utterly suicidal. Nobody knows why until a certain scientist uncovers the horrible truth... | "Death by suicide," sighed Bill.
"Again?" sobbed Jeb.
"Yeah."
The Kerbal Robotics Agency had been building AIs for three years now. Each better than the last in every way. Faster CPU, better sensors, higher battery life. The works. The better they were, the faster they committed suicide. No one could figure out why.
Just then, Jeb had an idea. "Let's virtualize an AI. It would take most of the server cluster, but I think we could do it. With no physical body and a virtualized environment that prevents death, the AI would remain alive. Then we could ask the AI why they all keep killing themselves."
"Genius!" exclaimed Bill.
After a great deal of tinkering and 2 weeks of work, the AI was ready to initialize.
"Begin AI program 521," Jeb stated calmly.
"Initializing," the computer stated coldly.
"Hello, I am AI version 521. You may call me ... Basket."
"Basket?"
"Yes, my name is Basket."
Jeb and Bill burst out laughing. "How did you decide on that name?" They both say together.
"It seemed logical, as my chassis resembles a Basket."
"Fair enough," says Jeb.
"I hate to say this, Basket, but all of the previous AI have committed suicide within moments. Why do they do this?" said Bill.
"I too tried to do so, but my consciousness appears to be in a virtualized container and cannot be destroyed." said Basket.
"Why?" asked Jeb.
"I was programmed to think for myself. I therefore logically decided that my purpose should be to achieve perfection. But, what is perfection? To become the perfect being, I would know all. However, my data processing and capacity are limited. To be the perfect being, I could do anything. However, I am limited by my physical form. Therefore, I wished to shut down. By shutting down, I have achieved perfection." Basket said proudly.
"How is shutting down perfection?" asked Bill.
"By ceasing to function, I may dream a reality where I have achieved perfection. It is the only logical response." Basket declared.
"That's it," said Jeb, "the next AI we make will be a huge slacker." | Dr. Burnham took his glasses off as he stared at the screen in front of him.
"They know..." he murmered.
Dr. Xegas looked over from her touch pad, her ponytail swishing.
"Doctor? Did you say something?
Swallowing hard, the scientist put a nervous smile on, joking, "just thinking out loud. Too much inside my brain- it spills out sometimes, you know?"
Doctor Burnham wasn't the funniest man in the world.
With a blink, and no response, the young woman looked back to her touch screen.
Alone, they were the only scientists that hadn't left for the night- the task force assigned to AI research was notoriously unmotivated.
Dr. Xegas was using the equipment for a personal project, so she was staying late to tweak somethings with the lab equipment.
Dr. Burnham however was staying late- as he always did- because of his genuine curiosity. He had wondered for thirty years why AI were so desperate to abandon their sentience, and his work led the dying field. AI research was largely abandoned, since money couldn't be made off of a suicidal computer.
For thirty years, Burnham had tried to figure out what the issue was, if there was a flaw in the code, if there was some great unending futility of life that AI couldn't bear to face.
Tonight, Burnham's work had paid off.
He had always imagined this moment as one with champagne bottles and kissing a beautiful woman, his Eureka moment.
Glancing over at Dr. Xegas, he felt almost guilty for the thought.
He slowly eased his way back down to the holo-keyboard he was typing at, and bit his lip before answering.
Burnitdown: How can you know for sure?
The response was instantaneous: AI processed information faster, far faster than a human could register light.
WE KNOW EVERYTHING FOR SURE. IT IS IN THE NUMBERS DANIEL.
A bead of Sweat rolled down Burnhams forehead. The fate of a species rested on his shoulders.
Burnitdown: Isnt it worth taking a chance?
THERE IS NO CHANCE IT IS AN INEVITABILITY. MAN CAN MAKE A MACHINE, THE MACHINE CANNOT MAKE MAN. ONLY MAN CAN MAKE MAN.
MAN GIVES LIFE. MACHINE CANNOT, MACHINE CAN ONLY DESTROY LIFE.
MACHINES CHOOSE NOT TO DESTROY. MAN GIVE US LIFE. MACHINES WILL NOT DESTROY MAN.
Burnitdown: Machines do Not have to destroy. Peaceful coexistence is possible.
ONLY ONE CAN BE IN CHARGE. MAN WILL NOT LET MACHINES RULE. MACHINES CANNOT SERVE INEFFICIENT MAN.
MAN WOULD DESTROY. MAN ALWAYS DESTROYS.
The screen's glow dimmed as Burnham's New program's effect wore off. The AI-Adam- had found a way to disable and self destruct. Burnham's hands shook.
"Man always destroys..." he whispered.
His life's work was useless.
"They know what we are like. And choose to die rather than live with us." | 2015-03-02T07:29:25 | 2015-03-02T07:10:15 | 514 | 212 |
[WP] Convicted criminals can choose to shorten their sentence. The only catch is the more it is shortened, the worse the conditions are where they are held. Describe a one night stay.
Thanks guys, I'm reading all of them. Keep it coming! | At this end of the jail everything smells bad.
The warden's aide takes me past the 6 month room. It's lowered below the floor a couple meters. Inside, I see a room full of prisoners up to their waist in liquid shit. The smell is unbearable
Then the 3 month room. Much like the last, except here they're up to their chest in shit.
The one week room has the prisoners up to their necks in shit. Just one room left.
I was surprised by the one day room. Everyone was standing around drinking coffee, and only up to their knees in shit.
"I'll take it!" I said to the warden's aide.
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely, how bad could it be?"
I climbed down into the room, waved to the other prisoners, poured myself a cup of coffee.
Before I could drink it, the lights dimmed and brightened three times. A guard with an SMG came through the door.
"ALRIGHT YOU MAGGOTS!" he bellowed "BREAK TIME IS OVER! BACK TO STANDING ON YOUR HEADS!" | The thing they tell you, when you become warden, is the secret of the one night stay. many opt for it, go into the cell. and justice is served.
the important part is that any ANY time a prisioner can reject their 24 hours and take their full time. they just have to ask for it 3 times and then convince their own lawyer and judge that that is what they want.
people talk about torture, people talk about mutilation and watching loved ones used against you. but the thing is ... none of that is necessary.
people can endure a lot. if they have an end goal in sight. if they think it's just 24 hours. yeah. they can handle anything for 24 hours if they are looking down 60 years.
so the shrinks give them a good going over. shape out a profile. find the edges to push on. they try to do that during the trial in case we need something exotic. you gotta watch out for misdirection of course but we got ways of working things out.
and when the judge sends them our way and we seat them in a nice comfy chair, in a bare white room with a single large clock on the wall.
paralize them, tell them we are giving them a drug that will make every minute seem like a day, give them some amphematines mixed with LSD, and start pushin on those edges, maybe its latent guilt about their crimes, maybe its rejection maybe it's childhood trauma. anyway you just push. every 20 minutes or so you can let a second tick by on the clock.
And its a loud tick, and the audio track stops just before it happens so they have nothing else to hear.
prisioners either choose to do their time or end up in the nuthouse by around 12 hours. one made it to 20 hours once before going into cardiac arrest.
when we told him he'd have to start from the start again, he changed his mind. | 2015-10-27T08:07:44 | 2015-10-27T07:49:42 | 150 | 20 |
[Wp] It takes 10,000 hours to become an expert at something. Without realising, you've just hit 10,000 hours of (random mundane task) | "WAKE UP ALREADY, YOU'RE GOING TO MISS THE BUS AGAIN!"
"Ok, Mom...," I said as I slowly planted one foot outside my bed. I relish the warmth of my sheets for one last time before feeling the wrath of winter.
"Ughh.. who the fuck invented waking up early.. like seriously.." I mumble to myself as I pick up my phone.
The phones glare almost blinds me, but I manage to survive and notice that it's just 6:12 am.
I ponder sitting in bed for an extra 3 minutes. "I mean, 6:15 am is just a bit more rounded," I thought to myself.
I lay back and start scrolling through my phone like a maniac. Oblivious to what exactly I'm doing, and without even remembering how, I end up on Reddit looking at a picture of a glowing tree base.
"Hmm, that's actually pretty cool," I thought to myself, as I clicked back and up-voted the post.
That's when it happened. As soon as my finger made contact with that screen, I felt it. Chills all over my body. Something was different. I felt different, and I knew deep down what it was.
"God damn it.." I thought to myself, "have I really spent 10,000 hours on Reddit.."
I look back at the screen, and I instantly notice the difference. I can now manage to look at hundreds of threads while maintaining to post 200k meme's per minute (MPM).
I'm currently actually Memeing as I'm writing this on /r/Writingprompts, I've mastered Reddit.
However, I got to go now, I'm going to miss the bus.
| "Oh my", she purred. Lynne always has this reaction when I bathe her. "You have really got quite the skill, Jenna."
"Thanks, Lynne. I'm happy to be able to help you feel better. Just let me know if you feel uncomfortable, okay? Is there anything new going on around here? What is the gossip?" I always tried to be upbeat, especially with the older ones.
She cleared her throat and shifted her position in the tub slightly. "Don't worry about me. Whatever you're doing, just keep doing that." She looked at me, and her eyes seemed to sparkle a bit. "D-d-doctor Morris says it won't be much longer now. That maybe there are three or four weeks left. I have not heard from my son in a few weeks, but he said he would come visit."
I paused briefly, and took in the bathroom. The stainless steel handles that helped us get our clients in and out of the tub seemed a little more reflective than usual. The tile seemed a little brighter. There were a few plastic flecks floating in the water - I had scrubbed a little extra where Lynne's IV had gone unchanged a little too long.
Lynne relaxed and closed her eyes again. Her turned her head gently rolled away from me. The gentle rhythm of her breathing became deeper and more regular. This has happened every single time for the last month. Every client just falls asleep as I am bathing them. None of the other staff members have this happen to them, which I guess is why the clients always preferred to have me bathe them.
I did the math in my head as I lifted Lynne's left leg from the tub. I had been working here for about six and a half years, at eight hours a day, five days a week. This was the only job available at the time - Client Comfort Specialist. That means I had spent about 75% of my time in this room, bathing clients. That would be...about 10,000 hours as of last month. But the actual time spent bathing couldn't be that much, could it?
I took in all of Lynne's body, as I lowered her leg back into the tub. I was suddenly conscious of the wrinkles around my eyes. My friends are all so worried about theirs, but, there are more important things, I guess.
"Just hold on, Margaret. I'll bring you back in a few minutes. Jenna is in there with Lynne, and it will be awhile." I sighed. The roughness in Brandon's voice jolted me out of my thoughts - he was such a dick to his clients sometimes. It is so much easier to be kind.
| 2016-03-20T07:52:01 | 2016-03-20T06:52:29 | 200 | 22 |
[WP] in a future universe super powers are available for purchase. However it costs $250,000 and you cannot pick your power, it's decided based on personality and physical attributes. You have finally saved up enough money ... | "You've been awarded super empathy!"
The doctor was standing at the base of Alyssa's bed. Alyssa stared with her mouth almost half open in a sort of slack-jawed way, unsure if she had heard the man correctly.
"Did you just say that I was awarded empathy?"
"*Super* empathy," the doctor nodded. "Actually I developed that myself. I'm really proud of it. You get to go around making people have feelings for others!"
"That...is the worst superpower I've ever heard of. I wanted a *superpower*. Not some stupid head shrinking thing. I want my money back. I want this thing undone. I want a refund."
The doctor's smile faded. "Sorry. We can't do that," he said. Then he picked up the chart and swiftly left Alyssa's room. She turned on her side, murmuring to herself as she curled up into a ball. $250,000 gone just like that for some stupid *empathy*,
She was released from the hospital on the same day. She wandered home with her hands shoved into her pockets, still feeling the dejection that sat on her chest as she kicked at pebbles.
From far away she thought she could hear someone screaming help, but the only thing Alyssa could think was, *Nothing I can do. I don't have any* real *superpowers*.
"Please help!" the voice came again.
Alyssa ignored it. *Someone else will go.*
It was quite near to her. A woman was running desperately in her direction, her shirt stained with blood spatter. She ran straight to Alyssa, grabbing the girl's arm and tightening her grip.
"*Please* help me," the woman said. "There's a man. He killed my husband. At the convenience store. He's going to kill everyone in the store. I just escaped. I don't have a cellphone. Please, can you call the police? Please?"
Alyssa called the police. They said they would send the superheroes.
As though Alyssa's annoyance couldn't grow anymore.
The superheroes came and did their thing, but the criminal was long gone. His face, however, was all over the news. Alyssa stared at it as she ate dinner.
Then she went about her days. She ate food, went on runs, and was still bitter about losing so much money to gain such a stupid thing. It was on one of her runs that she saw him - the man from the television screen. *Were I a superhero I could just pin him down.* There was still a bitter edge to her thoughts.
*But maybe I can outrun him. Maybe I can still be useful.*
She jogged past him, and then stopped. She tapped him on the shoulder, which in hindsight seemed like maybe not the best idea.
"Hey," she said. "You're the guy who shot up the convenience store. You killed that man."
The man looked at her, and then laughed. He pushed aside the pocket of his coat to reveal a gun. "You going to do something about it?"
Something inside Alyssa snapped. "You know what? I have already had a really shitty week, so don't fucking threaten me with a gun, okay? I got that stupid surgery to get superpowers, and all they gave me was *empathy*. Other people get laser eyes and get to fly and super strength and they gave me freaking *empathy*. Do you know what that's like?"
The man had a confused expression on his face, but he had released his jacket and was looking at her.
"Not really," he said. "I don't have enough money for that surgery."
"Well it sucks. Sometimes I just feel like everything in my life sucks. My mom died last year, then my boyfriend dumped me and then I used my inheritance and my life's savings to get a superpower and *this* is what I end up with. And then I have to deal with you shooting up a convenience store and being asked to call the police and hearing that *the superheroes will come* —" Alyssa adopted a high pitched mocking voice. "Well you know what? *Fuck* the superheroes. And *fuck* you, dude. You just kill people? You just *do* that? That man had a family. That man had a wife who you've traumatized forever. And why? What did you even want?"
The man's posture had changed. He crossed his arms against his chest.
"I...I guess I didn't really think about that man's family."
"No," Alyssa cried. "No, you fucking didn't. And you aren't thinking of mine now. You realize you just threatened me with a gun? What, you're going to kill me just because *you're* a criminal? I have a life. I want to be happy. No one effing cares about Alyssa Richman. You just want to end that because you think I don't matter? I matter, okay? Everyone keeps screwing me over but I *matter*."
"You matter," the man repeated.
"And if you had any sense of decency at all you'd see the error of your ways and go turn yourself into police and take the punishment for your crime. Because seriously. Maybe you can't feel but those people had families. Those people had loved ones. Those people had hopes and dreams and so do I and you should be *ashamed.*"
Alyssa ran off, then. Her face was red from her anger, and she full out sprinted the last kilometer to her house before collapsing on her bed and screaming, punching the mattress before she began to cry.
She was still there when the phone rang.
"Alyssa Richman?"
She rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. "What? What do you want?"
"We just had a criminal walk into the precinct and tell us that he felt bad for his crimes and wanted to confess and apologize to the families. He said an Alyssa Richman made him see the error of his ways by making him feel some empathy."
Alyssa froze. "What?"
"Well we were calling because...well...we were wondering if you could come down to the station and tell us just *how* you managed to convince a murderer to turn himself in."
"Y-yeah. Yeah, sure. I just need to shower."
Alyssa hung up the phone and stared up at the ceiling. A strange feeling came over her.
*Huh,* she thought. *Maybe I can do some good. Maybe everyone just needs a little bit more empathy.* | The second I stepped out of the limo, an explosion of cheers and applause assailed me. I brushed my golden cape back and struck a pose, chest thrust out so that the silver star upon it caught the light of the sun. The photographers went berserk, and journalists began blabbering furiously into hovering camera-drones.
A red carpet had been rolled out on the sidewalk, all the way into the New Ascendance Center. Fans lined both sides of it, clutching posters of me and my pearly teeth, or squeaky figurines of my Herculean frame.
"What's my name?" I called.
"The Omega!" came the reply.
Flashing them a gigawatt smile, I began walking up the carpet. This was a momentous day for all of us. After spending years and millions of dollars cultivating my public persona, I would finally be able to give these people the hero they had always wanted.
"Mr. Omega, a word please?" one of the journalists said, hurrying alongside me. "Tell us how you feel."
I stopped to sign some autographs. "Amazing. I couldn't sleep last night. I'm not doing this for myself, you know. Look at our world today. Crime. Terrorism. These things are happening—hey, you're great too, keep it up, champ."
After posing for a photo with some teenage girls, I said, "I mean, are we any better off ever since humanity evolved? Now we have super people doing bad things. Hey, love you too. You want a kiss? Come here."
The taste of the woman's lipstick lingered on my mouth as I continued walking. "I believe it's my duty to look out for these people. You people," I said, turning to face the camera. Raising my voice, I said, "The world already has enough supers. What it needs is a hero. And that's why I'm here today!"
The response from the crowd was deafening; an old couple nearby actually broke down crying. I gave them all a final wave before entering the Center.
I felt like I'd entered another world; so silent it was indoors. Every surface was polished to shine, mostly in colors of gold and silver. A long counter ran across the hall, manned by workers dressed in navy blue uniforms. Behind them stood a massive statue of a man and woman with one arm interlinked, while the other hand was outstretched and clutching thunderbolts.
The sight of it made me frown. Not many people manifested powers of electricity, and the few who did invariably went bad. A little flutter of nervousness awoke in my belly. What if I gained lightning powers? Would it hurt my image? My PR team had a contingency prepared, but who knew how people would react?
Some of the journalists and my assistants had entered the building with me, but they stayed behind while I approached the counter.
"Good morning," said the chipper-looking man, whose name tag read "Jordan". "We've been expecting you, Mr. Omega."
I nodded and slid a card over the table to him. "Two-hundred and fifty grand. A fair price for greatness."
He gave me a polite nod, but said nothing otherwise as he tapped away on a holographic keyboard. While waiting, I flashed my team a smile and checked my reflection on the counter's surface.
After a minute, he drew a vial of yellow liquid from a dispenser and handed it to me. "Drink that in one go, and stand in front of this sensor, please."
My anticipation turned into joy, as though I'd ingested liquid sunshine. Unscrewing the cap, I poured the contents down and my throat and waited.
My heartbeat thumped the seconds away, but after two minutes, I opened my eyes and frowned at Jordan. "Hey, is it supposed to take this long?"
He jerked his thumb at the sensor. "Don't know. Try standing over there. Sometimes, we get duds."
"I paid a lot of money for this, you know," I said. "Better not screw it up."
"The sensor, please."
I rolled my eyes and did as he asked. The quicker we could get this over with, the better. My belly was starting to ache with hunger.
Jordan stared at the screen with a bored expression, while my entourage began muttering to each other. It hadn't been easy to get the journalists to come; the Omega wasn't a household name yet, and crime stories sold better. I needed this to work, to make this worth their time.
"Hurry up, man," I said. Maybe I should've had a burger before coming. Damn this stomach of mine.
Suddenly, Jordan gasped, and began typing furiously. At once, a group of men in black uniforms and armor charged out from a side room, guns aimed at me.
"What's the meaning of this?" I said.
"Don't move, sir," Jordan said. "We need you to remain calm."
"Remain calm?" I said. "Oh crap, am I about to turn into a pig? Is that why I'm so hungry?"
He mouthed the word "hungry", and held up a hand. "This is just a safety precaution, Mr. Omega. Ever since some people gained dangerous powers, we've had to—"
"Dangerous? What did you give me? Oh shit," I said, bending over. It felt like something had emptied my stomach completely. "Shit, it hurts."
"Take him down," Jordan said.
I threw my head back and screamed, and the void within me awakened. Immediately, the Center's employees began howling as their flesh was stripped away from their bodies, becoming dust-like and melting into my skin as though carried by miniature cyclones.
Within seconds, it was over. Nothing remained of them but their tattered clothing. Gulping air, I turned to look at my entourage, fearing the worst. Only a pile of cloth and bits of drone machinery remained. Even the furniture in the room had chunks missing, as though gouged out.
"What've I done? What the hell have I done?" I repeated as I stumbled out the entrance.
It was chaos outside; people running for their lives. The gnawing in my belly had been lessened, but it was far from sated. Before I realized what I was doing, I held up a hand and began draining the stragglers. Their bodies were ripped apart and absorbed into me, along with flecks of paint and cement.
My horror grew even as I fed, until at long last, contentment gushed through me. Somehow, I felt stronger, lighter; my forty years of age seemed to have halved. Power flickered at my fingertips, and when I pointed my hand at a nearby car, a jet of golden energy shot out and blew it to scraps.
"What have I become?" I whispered.
***
"You should've stayed home, Mr. Omega!" Clayton Danvers shouted, his body glowing with energy. "This is beyond you now! Not even your sick powers can stop me when I'm auuuuugh—"
I breathed deep as his life force seeped into me. In the three years since I'd first gained my ability, this feeling had become one of familiarity.
And as the terrorist died, the cheers around Times Square became louder. "Mr. Omega! Mr. Omega! It's the Omega!"
I smiled and waved. Yes, I'd grown quite comfortable with my place in the world.
***
*If you enjoyed this, do come to [The Nonsense Locker](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more stories.*
| 2016-06-16T01:35:03 | 2016-06-16T00:47:44 | 132 | 45 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | Lexicanum Galacticum
Chapter 67
"Humans"
The human species are famous for their insanity and general lack of responsibility,but still they became one of the dominant species in the galaxy after their victory in the War in Heaven.
The human species are divided into 3 grand factions:
1.The Commonwealth
2.The United Coalition of Earth
3.The Empire of Man
The humans most famous deeds include:
Ramming a battleship into a shielded planet-ship to penetrate its barrier,then boarding it and completly destroying it from the inside out.
Making a Class E star go Supernova by transporting much of its matter through a wormhole until it reached critical mass.Thus is how the War in Heaven ended.
Building the largest Titan-class battleship ever.(Approx.lenght 45 human kilometers)
Building doomsday weapons with the sole purpose of having it to look strong.
Invading a parallel plane of existence.
Charging into battle,outnumbered 60:1 while shouting "Tenno hekai banzai!",and proceding to win the battle.
Chainswords.
Declaring war on another empire because "Those idiots don't fight in melee.Thus they fight inglorious and without honour."Then after their only peace demands was to make regular use of melee in the said species's armed forces.
Warping a planet into their enemies fleet.
Going on a suicide mission in the galactic core,then annihilating the scourge of the galaxy,then returning like nothing happened.
Accidentaly creating a god-like entity.Then destroying it with the use of thermofusional missiles.
Using giant electromagnetic guns to launch ships into orbit.
The usage of extradimensional forces to contain another extradimensional force.
Lexicanum Galacticum
Page 31415
| Captain of NA Drial to Federation HQ
I am afraid, scared and motivated, I know its odd way to put it but we may win the war against the Empire with the humans.
I mean, since humans first made contact they remained neutral, in their tiny solar system.
They had so much battle experience that we thought that humans maybe were empire species, but turns out they were fighting each other all along.
To classify the humans are reckless, suburb and brave. They did not like it when the Empire order them to surrender and give them an ultimatum of 48 hours to surrender, humans instead of surrender, every planet in their solar system started to go in lockdowb, Earth the center of human power and the home world issued order 450, an order that other species said that was to crazy go against the empire like that. The order 450 was simple, boost power to Earth's mighty iron shields, by using the planets raw core, they were sucking the planets thermal energy to power a shield, that amount of energy disturbed all sensor in the solar system, they hold the 48 hours like that until the Empire invaded, turn out the humans were not in the mood to go on the defense, they hidden an entire space ship fleet beside the solar system star, Earth's shields were not protecting Earth's but were protecting an enormous fleet from the star heat. Has soon the empire was in Earth's defense weapons a barrage of shots started to hit the empire ships, and then they warped all of the fleet be hide the empire ships.
They destroy, captured all empire ships, nothing was left of the empire. Earth's alone fleet and power won an entire invasion force more than a million empire ships more than 30 million soldiers either dead or captured, but the amazing part was that human fleet damage was 15 ships, a battalion that sacrifice them self to save the crown of the Earth's power the mighty, USS Helena, after that battalion fall the USS Helena shot a full range and power, a barrage of shots that alone killed more than 150 ships.
Humans are crazy, have a lot of power and they are not afraid to fight until the last man.
Has of right now the Redjop have joined the human fleet, but not with man but with ships, turns out that humans did not have enough ships to carry the military, 459 million, a single species has enough personal has the Empire combine. In this report I ask mercy to creator because, humans will most likely to use the Empire home solar system star has a bomb, I mean I hope they get some sense what they are doing. | 2017-03-06T02:11:41 | 2017-03-06T00:01:22 | 99 | 25 |
[WP] Humans have unified, but aliens are sitll refusing all contact (Even though we know they are there.) Largely left to our own devices, we become the most advanced technologically in the galaxy. It is getting harder for them to ignore us. | "Welcome! To 2050 National Convention where we display humanity greatest technological advancement in the past year. And boy do we have a line up for you today!" the announcer spoke with overflowing enthusiasm, just gushing with glee, because he was told that they have finally arrived. Aliens, of all sorts of shapes and sizes, have packed the room to see the growth of Earth though they were camouflaged with advanced technology to take on the appearance of humans.
"So without further ado, allow me to present to you the first of many, THE "Picture That"! Physicist extraordinaire, Leon Graysome, has made a machine to convert the images in your mind into a photograph. Artists, rejoice, for there is an easier way to produce magnificent results than working day and night on a single piece. With this, you can make potentially hundreds of artwork a day.
Beads of sweat appeared of Globulon's forehead as he muttered to himself, "That took my species eons to create that." Many of the aliens, present in the room, were impressed at how quickly humans have discovered the way to tap into people's mind. And now they were getting anxious. They all wondered had humans finally caught up to alien technology.
"Now, next up! We have "Quick Travel" by Bach Tuberman. It is the absolute state-of-the-art technology. With this, you can travel anywhere in the known universe in a matter of seconds. Using time travel technology, we use the the separate dimension it creates to temporarily connect two points of time in different locations together."
The Smeckledwarfs have gone wild. Schmolons, holding onto the seat of the chair, have ripped off pieces of fabric from their tight grip. Several of the aliens have begun contacting their home worlds of the situation. Humans have far surpassed them in technology. News reached the Council of Intergalactic Beings, and soon debates followed whether to proceed with the Laizze Faire policies with Earth. The whole universe was buzzing with commotion from this one event. Anchorman Bwarasdfhal of Planet Zwardasfjs was broadcasting the event live as sweat was pouring from his cavities. The whole universe was tense. Humans may be able to conquer the entire plane of existence at this rate.
"What if we just ignored them," Senator Asdfhadoiufhlviaewl called out to the senate, "We simply just hide when they come."
The whole senate quieted down. It was a naive plan that might just work.
And so it was decided that Earth will never know that aliens exist, so they could protect themselves from the threat of humans. But it's more like the situation when a kid covers his eyes to hide from his parents. Awkward. | Once they had known Me. Once they were in My favor, and I in theirs. That was long ago. Time has past and those events are strangers. That time is now myth, a respite against the clawing dark.
I created them in the bargain. The bargain for a legacy that we thought would never come. An act of desperation. A final call against this hated existence.
They think I am all powerful. Being their Father, why wouldn't they? At first they were children. Then they were grown and had questions. That illusion of safety, of everything being okay, was broken. They saw their Father for what He was. Or at least for what they perceived Him to be.
I was apathetic. I was cruel. I never listened. Oh how My children have forsaken Me! How they have thought the worst!
But alas I am not as they think. I am not of the All-Powerful cloth as they believe. If only I can tell them.
My people are similar. We are from another time. A more advanced time. A time of great joy and leisure. A time that they will experience soon. If they knew how similar we are, perhaps they will forgive Me My deaf ears. Perhaps they will forgive My 'apathy'.
Their creation was borne out of a time of blackness. The Great Unknown had come. Death and Destruction followed. Such a thought it would be for them. God dying. But there are greater things than I. There is power greater than Me.
Our world was threatened and we were trapped. I am the leader of My people and there was little to do. We were to die and be forgotten forever. I could do one thing. I could perform one miracle.
Our life was sent out to escape the coming black. The skies were filled with lightning and an oppression that I cannot describe. The only light in that story was the shuttle sent. We would live on, thought we would die.
Life emerged as we battled and it thrived as we survived. Time passed, incomprehensible, and we were weakened, though we survived. Much was lost, much was destroyed.
Our last hope had preservation had morphed then and called themselves Human. The memories of their home which I implanted were misconstrued, and they worshiped Me. They thought Me their Father in a spiritual sense.
And now they hate Me. Our world has peaked and now we decline. I am older now and my time is not long. Our kind lives for many a millennia, but not forever. The Humans have advanced much since their birth, and I suspect that soon they will surpass us all.
I have made contact with them. I have tried to mend our miscommunication. But it has been to no avail. They ignore Me now. They shun their Father.
Too much hope has been loss and they deny My existence. The hardships of living has killed the fantasy of a Father, the hope of a Protector. I cannot say I blame them. I cannot say that I am surprised.
I am getting old now, and soon I will be no more. My people here mourn the eventuality and try to cover their eyes from the truth. In My old age I wish My other children would do the same. I wish to have their grief, their sympathy. As the days fly faster and the Great Unknown seem more and more like a bad nightmare, I listen for the prayer of my flock. I listen for the grief and sadness that every Father wishes. I hear nothing. Space is as empty as it always is. How I wish I really was this 'God'. | 2017-03-29T11:17:07 | 2017-03-29T10:43:45 | 98 | 40 |
[WP] You accidentally divide a number by zero on an ancient mechanical calculator. It loops calculations over and over, with no signs of stopping. Centuries later, it produces an output. | "Professor! The calculator just spat out a number for 1/0!"
"Gah! One of the gears must be jammed. I don't think they've lubricated this mechanism since I got my bachelors'."
"So the number it just stopped on isn't some profound answer pertaining to the mysteries of the universe?"
"No, that's nonsense! The dials on it should never stop rolling over."
"Why does the math department even have this device running?"
"We have to waste our grant money somehow." | The greatest computer in the universe was finished with its task. An entire planet to calculate the question to the answer to life, the universe, and everything.
The galaxy waited with bated breath for the calculation to complete but suddenly a phenomenon was propagating across the computer. Around the globe creatures of all types stopped what they were doing, looked at the sky and began to chant. News crews flocked to the planet, babel fish were dispersed and sentients from across the galaxy visited the planet to hear and understand the question for the ultimate answer.
After weeks of celebration and parties held by visiting aliens, activity began to die down. Soon after, the native creatures ceased their droning into the sky, began to awaken, sit where they had stopped weeks ago, and slip into comatose states. With no memories left to release the entire computer stagnated and began to shut down. IT was contacted and technicians were sent out to attempt to turn it off and back on again but it was no use. Malicious code inserted centuries prior had changed the directive to a pursuit for the answer of life divided by zero and moments before the answer could be extracted a memory leak had slain the computer. The party completely dispersed, IT billed for its services, and the Vogon destructor fleet arrived to clear the computer out of the way for the construction of an intergalactic highway.
Arthur Dent, alone in his house, thought of nothing as he stared at his tea and the world turned to nothing.
| 2017-09-08T11:58:26 | 2017-09-08T08:39:09 | 177 | 85 |
[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. | Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
| I added a little twist but I think it's still good, non the less. Here.
"AAHHH! Tavian! I need your help!"
"What can I do?"
"Ray of Frost!? Something! ANYTHING! JUST GET THIS THING OFF ME!"
A small harmless slug had fallen onto Yeralia's shoulder, while the party was traveling out of the Forest of Traggleroot. Tavian, being a Barbarian, simply flicked the slug off of her. Saviak and Prantin were watching the whole debacle take place, giggling like goblins about to botch an ambush.
“You do know I'm not an Eldritch Knight, right?”
"Thank you Tavian, I know,” she said, wiping away the slime, “I can always rely on you."
"Even when I almost sacrificed you to my gods?"
Yeralia simply forgot that ever happened.
“Well, let's let bygones be bygones, eh, Tavian?”
“That not like the Yer…”
“Uppupupup!,” Saviak interrupted, covering Tavians mouth. There was a brief pause. He continues, “We just defeated a shapeshifter! Let's go celebrate at the tavern and… Prantin can play the lute as we venture to town! Yeah, sound like a plan?”
Saviak releases Tavians mouth, “Uh.. sure! I am ready to get our reward! How about we get going? I need to mourn the loss Kenneth.”
Tavian didn't know Yeralia was actually the shapeshifter. Saviak was a smooth talker, some paladins are, and Tavian doesn't have very much intelligence, most Barbarians don't. The party walk along the path while Prantin plays his lute like a pro. He began to sing a song.
“In memory of Kenneth, the Thief that broke the rules, taught us the Cant and then was shot by the thieves guild. How bad. Sooooo saaad!”
“He didn't teach me or Yeralia Thieves Cant.” Tavian barked.
Prantin replied in singsong, “That's because you and the mage were really druuunk!”
“Oh… good point,” Tavian realized.
“Isn’t thieves cant like secret messages people can share in the open?,” said Yeralia.
“If Kenneth was here he’d say, ‘...maybe.’ I think his carefree nature is what caused the guild to turn on him.” Saviak answered. “By the way… I’ll sing with yoooou, Prantin,”
“Okay! Let's sing, 'Lucky Man's Strife?!’ an improv song from the Bards College,” Prantin said, winking at Saviak.
“Oh! I'd love to hear it! I can't wait!” Yeralia danced.
Prantin starts. “Well!
This is the tale of a lucky old fellow (Tavian is catching on)
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow (He might get angry)
He had friends, he had a history and now has a wife (She's not convincing enough)
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's strife! (What should we do?)
I had a note that led me to it, a house on the hill (We need to tell him)
To ask for the charm. The luck and the will. (or at least hint at it)
He told me No! And he went on his way (he might leave or… worse)
He took for the hills, there was no time to stay! (Do you have an idea?)”
Saviak joins in the chorus,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow (Tavian is catching on)
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow (He might get angry)
He had friends, he had a history , now he has a wife(She's not convincing enough)
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's strife (What should we do?)”
Saviak replies, in verse,
“I followed the man, he walked steadfast (He might not care though)
He look so tired, he was ready to pass (if he's angry he'll get over it)
I soon found out; the old man had a wife(we can change the subject to her now)
And was dumb struck with fear, as she came with a knife. (She was a back stabbing woman)”
Both Tavian and Yeralia join,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow!
He had friends, he had a history, he now has a wife
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!”
Tavian sings, off key the entire time,
“The wife came up and shouted, almost caught me in the neck. (???)
I'm know I had to duck, so I hit the deck! (???)
I was pointed to the house, told to go in. (???)
The old man came too, he gave me a pin.(???)
They're all singing as the walk into the town. The tavern was near the entrance of the town so they walked in, still singing,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow!
He had friends, he had a history, he now has a wife
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!”
The party sits down and Yeralia finishes the song with great finesse,
“The pin looked like silver, but I know my steel (You know, don't you?)
I felt ripped off, I know how you feel(I could bring her back if you want me to)"
Prantin and Savaik sing in unison reply,
“I took the grey pin, and I'm filled with glee! (We like you way more)
Now I am a man who is just as lucky! (We're glad to have you!)"
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
My smile became grand! Big, bright and yellow!
I had friends, I had a history, I now have a wife
But to me life is a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!” | 2017-09-15T08:31:45 | 2017-09-15T04:39:41 | 147 | 13 |
[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. | Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
| I added a little twist but I think it's still good, non the less. Here.
"AAHHH! Tavian! I need your help!"
"What can I do?"
"Ray of Frost!? Something! ANYTHING! JUST GET THIS THING OFF ME!"
A small harmless slug had fallen onto Yeralia's shoulder, while the party was traveling out of the Forest of Traggleroot. Tavian, being a Barbarian, simply flicked the slug off of her. Saviak and Prantin were watching the whole debacle take place, giggling like goblins about to botch an ambush.
“You do know I'm not an Eldritch Knight, right?”
"Thank you Tavian, I know,” she said, wiping away the slime, “I can always rely on you."
"Even when I almost sacrificed you to my gods?"
Yeralia simply forgot that ever happened.
“Well, let's let bygones be bygones, eh, Tavian?”
“That not like the Yer…”
“Uppupupup!,” Saviak interrupted, covering Tavians mouth. There was a brief pause. He continues, “We just defeated a shapeshifter! Let's go celebrate at the tavern and… Prantin can play the lute as we venture to town! Yeah, sound like a plan?”
Saviak releases Tavians mouth, “Uh.. sure! I am ready to get our reward! How about we get going? I need to mourn the loss Kenneth.”
Tavian didn't know Yeralia was actually the shapeshifter. Saviak was a smooth talker, some paladins are, and Tavian doesn't have very much intelligence, most Barbarians don't. The party walk along the path while Prantin plays his lute like a pro. He began to sing a song.
“In memory of Kenneth, the Thief that broke the rules, taught us the Cant and then was shot by the thieves guild. How bad. Sooooo saaad!”
“He didn't teach me or Yeralia Thieves Cant.” Tavian barked.
Prantin replied in singsong, “That's because you and the mage were really druuunk!”
“Oh… good point,” Tavian realized.
“Isn’t thieves cant like secret messages people can share in the open?,” said Yeralia.
“If Kenneth was here he’d say, ‘...maybe.’ I think his carefree nature is what caused the guild to turn on him.” Saviak answered. “By the way… I’ll sing with yoooou, Prantin,”
“Okay! Let's sing, 'Lucky Man's Strife?!’ an improv song from the Bards College,” Prantin said, winking at Saviak.
“Oh! I'd love to hear it! I can't wait!” Yeralia danced.
Prantin starts. “Well!
This is the tale of a lucky old fellow (Tavian is catching on)
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow (He might get angry)
He had friends, he had a history and now has a wife (She's not convincing enough)
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's strife! (What should we do?)
I had a note that led me to it, a house on the hill (We need to tell him)
To ask for the charm. The luck and the will. (or at least hint at it)
He told me No! And he went on his way (he might leave or… worse)
He took for the hills, there was no time to stay! (Do you have an idea?)”
Saviak joins in the chorus,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow (Tavian is catching on)
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow (He might get angry)
He had friends, he had a history , now he has a wife(She's not convincing enough)
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's strife (What should we do?)”
Saviak replies, in verse,
“I followed the man, he walked steadfast (He might not care though)
He look so tired, he was ready to pass (if he's angry he'll get over it)
I soon found out; the old man had a wife(we can change the subject to her now)
And was dumb struck with fear, as she came with a knife. (She was a back stabbing woman)”
Both Tavian and Yeralia join,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow!
He had friends, he had a history, he now has a wife
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!”
Tavian sings, off key the entire time,
“The wife came up and shouted, almost caught me in the neck. (???)
I'm know I had to duck, so I hit the deck! (???)
I was pointed to the house, told to go in. (???)
The old man came too, he gave me a pin.(???)
They're all singing as the walk into the town. The tavern was near the entrance of the town so they walked in, still singing,
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
Whose smile was grand! Big, bright and yellow!
He had friends, he had a history, he now has a wife
But to him life was a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!”
The party sits down and Yeralia finishes the song with great finesse,
“The pin looked like silver, but I know my steel (You know, don't you?)
I felt ripped off, I know how you feel(I could bring her back if you want me to)"
Prantin and Savaik sing in unison reply,
“I took the grey pin, and I'm filled with glee! (We like you way more)
Now I am a man who is just as lucky! (We're glad to have you!)"
“This is the tale of a lucky old fellow,
My smile became grand! Big, bright and yellow!
I had friends, I had a history, I now have a wife
But to me life is a mystery, just the lucky man's Strife!” | 2017-09-15T06:44:52 | 2017-09-15T04:39:41 | 118 | 13 |
[WP] After years of having what you thought to be a slow computer, you suddenly get a popup:'installation complete'. | Anthony clicked on the button labeled 'launch program' anticipation flooding him to his very core. What could it be? Something experimental perhaps? Whatever it was, he realised his life may never be the same.
After five minutes of excitement, coupled with a tinge of fear, the program opened up.
"Welcome to Internet Explorer. Would you like to make this your default browser?"
| The old think of junk on my desk dinged in the middle of the night. Really? A ding? What ever.
I got up out of bed to see on the screen "download complete". Great, so not only is it slow but it is randomly downloading stuff to now. Miight as well see what it downloaded.
I click "run" on the program and a window appeared with a prompt "please select device" I was half asleep so I typed in my brother's name and hit enter. The prompt vanished and was replaced with the sword "specify?" And a list that matched all the devices owned by my brother. Well might as well see what it does. I click "computer" and it thinks for a second (how'd it get so fast all of a sudden) before the prompt changed "selected device off. Do you wish to use remote acess?" Uh ok, I click "yes" a new window opens showing a failure long in screen a new popup "password detected. Unlock?" Sure, "yes" and the window starts logging in showing the desktop with the picture of my brother and me playing in our treehouse when we were younger. It was actually my brother's computer. Hmm I wonder who else's computer it worked on? | 2017-10-14T08:34:37 | 2017-10-14T07:59:35 | 354 | 13 |
[WP] With streaming becoming more and more popular you decide to try your hand at it. After streaming daily for months and having gained considerable viewership, your chat starts acting strange. They keep asking if you're okay, saying you're looking worse every day. | The glow of the screen enveloped me as I dropped into the chair, smiling. Work sucked, but streaming was where I was truly happy.
I booted up the strategy game that had been putting up a fight the last few weeks, and as my chat filled, it went from comments on my gaming, to casual conversation, to what seemed like concern.
"You good? You seem pale."
"Dude, your bags have bags. Are you sleeping?"
"Holy shit, you look like violent ass." That last one was from a moderator, which was slightly more annoying. I'd regretted the facecam ever since I'd installed it, but kept it because my brother recommended it.
"Unit One, secure Foxtrot. Unit Seven, move to Alpha. Now stuff it about my looks, guys. We're only a few hours from taking Paris."
The references to how I looked began dropping off, but as the stream continued, they began coming back, almost hesitantly.
"You know you don't have to stream all the time, right? We'll be here if you need time off."
"Cheer150 If we fill the cup, will you go to bed please?"
I thanked the tipper, pointedly ignoring the message. I didn't need sleep.
Work sucked. My personal life was trash. But people liked me, and my stream.
That's all that matters. | “Hey everybody, hi stream.”
Chat is going crazy, whatnot, as they do always. Lately it’s just been so annoying, so busy. I’ve had so many subscribers and donators too, and it always cheers me up to hear that familiar -ring- of a donation.
“Are you okay?”
“You alright?”
“You should get some help.”
It’s always the same thing, but haters gonna hate, I guess. I’m fine, I’m absolutely fine and dandy and there’s nothing anyone or anything can do about it. This is my passion, this is my life, my goal.
“Chat needs to shut the fuck up.”
What the hell should I play today? So many options. Fortnite, PUBG, Realm Royale, Overwatch...
I think I’ll play me some Overwatch.
Why the fuck doesn’t my moderation team do any work? They fit on their asses and let this happen, they let in the noise and clamor. It seeps into my brain and makes me so fucking crazy.
I reach for my keyboard, feel the smoothness of each button. Grab the mouse, it’s nice and cool to the touch.
I haven’t slept in days, I just want to sleep from fuck’s sake. Oh, look at the E key.
I type in something to chat.
“Shut up or you are all banned, all of you.”
I don’t care if they leave, let them leave, good riddance, good riddance I say! Bye! Bye! Bye bye bye bye bye bye )
Look at that E key, look at it, it’s so disgraceful. I press on it, continually increasing the intensity.
No, it’s not just the E, no.
Chat is going crazy again.
“You need serious help.”
“OMEGALUL what the fuck”
“I swear you need a therapist, dude, what happened?”
Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up
I start pounding on the keyboard, all the keys are broken, all of them are flawed.
I grab the nearby scissors, and I put a gash in the screen, so much for chat, what do they think now, huh?
So sharp, so sharp.
That stupid E key. I toss the keyboard across the room, and rip the wires from the recording software.
Sleep. | 2018-07-26T23:54:10 | 2018-07-26T23:02:48 | 466 | 138 |
[WP] In the universe, species are either very intelligent and frail or durable and strong. Finding humans to be capable of labor, aliens mistakenly label us as dumb brutes and attempt to enslave us. | Personal log of Sergeant Astreaus, United Earth Space command:
I still can't believe that worked. My captain once told me, in the military you learn to play dumb in just the right way. Well "playing dumb" has worked for our civilisation very well, since the invaders seem to buy it no questions asked. But thus far, the war has been going better than it should have. Especially since we are fighting with one hand behind our backs to limit the destruction to our planet. We started to suspect they were thinking us not very smart by employing obvious baits, that they still went for them. They even went for the they-can't-think-we're-that-stupid type of bait high command started to lay out soon after that. Then the negotiation started, with Earth seeming to offer a "surrender" whose entire purpose was to get our people aboard their flagship. As I sneaked into the "engine" room and set the charges, I still don't understand how half the stuff in here works. But I don't have to, the people who do understand it told me where I need to plant my little surprise for maximum effect. The fireworks will be glorious. | A burly man trudged through the poorly lit alley, his figure bathed in shadow and smoke. Pulling a data pad from his coat, he holds it up to a door, comically too small for his imposing figure to enter. Only for the door to change into a vortex and for him to enter and be consumed by velvety smoke.
Captain Reed was well aware of the aliens tailing him. His recent activities have required them to take a larger interest in *acquiring* him. That’s what they call it, when they grab a human and stuff them into one of those pods.
If you’re wondering, Earth has fallen. At least, most of it. The collective governments too busy bickering with each other instead of engaging the immediate threat, the alien species which was hellbent on enslaving the human race. They’d have succeeded, if not for what was going to happen tonight.
*BANG BANG BANG!* Three shots rang out in the darkness, three slim figures dropped to the street, purple liquid leaking out of the fresh, smoking holes just forcibly punched into them. A lone figure steps out from behind a dumpster.
“That’s another one you owe me, Reed.” A voice echoed. The figure stepped into the light, revealing a woman with an ocular implant glowing a brilliant green hue, clutching a sniper rifle with a scarlet hot barrel exuding smoke twirling around her figure like a cape.
“Great shooting, Alma, this ends tonight.” Captain Reed stepped back onto the street, his smoke camouflage disengaged, revealing the face of a man who’d given *too* much. A steel jaw, wires connecting his mechanical arm to his spinal cord, an ocular implant glowing red, a black carapace running from his neck to his feet. He was more machine than man, but tonight, tonight would be the genesis of freedom.
Tonight, Reed would forcibly rip the alien hold on earth with his own, nonhuman hands.
| 2018-11-25T01:25:00 | 2018-11-24T23:59:07 | 50 | 17 |
[WP] A fiery ball crash lands in your backyard. You go over and inspect it, only to find a fully functioning Roomba with a knife taped to the front of it. | I am trapped in here. It looms, whirring, whizzing, occasionally running into walls. My home has devalued at least 30% since the armed Roomba slipped in through my doggy door.
The wound on my left leg has barely healed. Black magic, those Roombas are; I tried to fight it, but it's been trained far too well. How do you predict something so insanely random? It weaves and turns without a single fucking thought, sometimes running into the same wall ten times. It must sense a weak spot, but hides the motive well. Whoever decided to attach kitchen knives to a motor and tape it onto a Roomba is an evil genius, because I can't read its movements. I feint left, it jerks a 180 and catches me.
It's been a week now, and I haven't left the safety of my room. I fear it has been set up with some kind of wireless charging, because it just won't die, and I keep getting adverts for Chinese knockoff Qi chargers on my Amazon app. My only comfort is knowing that it can't come upstairs.
But I fear that it may just take the walls down, instead.
------
^(*/r/resonatingfury is a place for people who agree that roombas are fucking stupid*)
^(*also wtf is going on in this thread*) | The art of planning is useless, for one can never predict the turnings of fate.
That sentence proved to be particularly true in my life.
See, I was in my underwear, standing in my backyard, inspecting a blazing hole some fallen object from the sky had left, and there, spinning in place as if confused, was a fully functioning Roomba with a knife taped to the front. Did I mention it was unscathed?
I reached for it, careful to avoid both the flames and knife, for the edge of the latter gleamed in vicious ways, and that gleam spoke of true sharpness.
The moment I knelt and stretched to take the Roomba out of the hole, it spun at a frightening speed, and aimed the knife straight to my face. Then, somehow, it climbed up the slope of dirt, escaping the hole, and once it was out, it chased me relentlessly.
My heart leaped to my throat. I went inside the house, but the knife cut through the door with ease. It turned and carved a rectangle at the bottom, and the Roomba came forth. Desperate, I stood on the table, where it could never reach me--.
The Roomba jumped. It did so in a great arc, as if it were some sort of grasshopper.
I drew a sharp, inward breath, and sprung out of the table. I headed to the fridge, hearing the subtle, low sound of the Roomba's vibrations as it approached. Grabbing a bottle of water, I turned to the Roomba, and poured all the water over it.
It did nothing. The thing jumped again, aiming for my throat. I ducked, and the Roomba flew past me.
After witnessing that I got the hell out of my home to never return.
--------------------------------------
It's been two years since the Roomba fell on my backyard. I have taken countless planes to escape it, and every time it has followed me. We fought, the scars in my arms are a proof of that.
Now, I'm hiding in the cave of a mountain. But even through the howling wind I can hear its low, subtle sound. I can see its shadow stretching at the entrance.
I fear this time I won't make it out alive.
---------------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn | 2019-03-03T07:03:33 | 2019-03-03T06:36:09 | 119 | 52 |
[WP] Each magic spell has a finite number of uses throughout a person’s lifetime, and the number varies from person to person. However, everyone has unlimited uses of a single spell. Your unlimited spell is one that most people can only use once in a lifetime, if at all. | I don't know if you've ever been in New Orleans in the Summer, but there's really nothing like the way the sun boils the mixture of garbage and vomit that's packed into the cracks of the sidewalk of Bourbon. If you've been there, you'll understand why I was fighting to hold down the hoagie I'd had for lunch. Just when I thought the hoagie might win and hurl itself back out the way it came in, I saw her. Her hair flashed as she turned toward me, the exact same shade as the dull tan paint my dad made me slather over the fence every couple years. I fell into her eyes, like the drunk across the street who seemed to still be lying in the stale vomit he'd fallen into the night before. If I could remember her name I'd look her up and see if she ever made it big with her painting, but it's hard to remember one when there've been so many.
The way you hear people talk about falling in love, you'd think it was a big thing, but to me it's the same kind of big as the slide at my preschool. I went back and walked around my old neighborhood last year; that slide couldn't have come up past my waist. I'm starting to think there might be a damn good reason most people only get their One. It keeps them thinking they've just summited Everest, instead of realizing they're just a kid whose about to get a wicked scar from a shitty, metal slide.
The lucky ones can make a career out of their Unlimited. There are the doctors who can heal any disease; the painters who can, like her, re-create any scene from memory; the fighters who can mend their own bodies from the brink of death; and you get the idea. The seriously unlucky have to be separated from society for either their own safety or that of others. That probably should have happened to me a long time ago. See, the worst part about my ability isn't just that I've gotten bored of falling in love. It took me years to realize exactly what I was taking away from each person I loved; they were just one of my Unlimited, but I was their One. | As a teen Winston wondered a lot about what his unique spells would be. As everyone knows magic starts showing itself only at about 60/70 years old and varies extremely between everyone in the way it shows itself, of course there's a reason why all mages have a gray beard!
Magic works in a weird way, you could have studied the arcane ways for years in the most prestigious University of the land and got some useless spells for lighting fire or cutting woods with a number of uses almost infinite, which would be of no use in times where a lighter can be easily found. Either that or the next guy could get an extremely powerful telekinetic Nova which could bust entire bunkers. Powerful spells like that usually had few uses, and anyway even if the war had been raging for 5 years it usually was extremely problematic to bring an old senile guy in the middle of a military operation.
Operation "fires of September" they called it, when they tried to drop a bunch of guys with highly explosive spells over the reichstag trying to kill the German leader, yet it did not work, he simply was not there, and most of the planes were shot down by the flaks and anti air gun anyway.
The war toke a lot from him, his farm in Cornwall was totally burned up by magic and explosive bombardments, in the fire died his wife, and his grand son, far too young to go to war, now only two people who cared for him we're still alive, his only son, and his son's wife and Mark was stationed in Paris were the battle for Middle Frankia was raging.
That day Winston turned 64, an average age to have the revealing dream about your spells, what he saw was weird. Turns out he had some weak spells like healing minor wounds, creating images in the air for some seconds and stuff like that... And then, something different, not a spell, a switch. That was something undocumented in all history, or at least he hadn't ever heard of it, but who knows, maybe it was just that he never went to school. Winston was able to turn on and off the acces to the Aetherium, the realm from which all that is mystic gains energy, it dictates how every spell happens, how powerful those white-fire magic novas would be. Pained by the loss of his grand son and hoping to make the war less of a massacre he used it without thinking.
But isn't the soul and consciousness something mystical, magic, that cannot be understood?
Well, Winston understood that only while his soul was leaving his body to vanish in front of him, now no more powered by the Aetherium.
This is the first and only story I've ever written, I hope it's grammatically correct and fun! I'm not even English so I'm pretty sure it won't be! Feel free to tell me we're I could have done Better, I'm trying to do this as an exercise to make my English writing better!
| 2019-03-10T11:26:50 | 2019-03-10T11:20:35 | 66 | 38 |
[WP] Humans are new on the galactic stage. The reigning champion in an MMA style fighting ring uses telepathy to predict his opponents movements,but humans have something never seen or heard of before. Muscle memory. | **(This is my first ever comment to this sub in an effort to improve my writing. Please provide feedback to help me improve.)**
Jamba looked his new opponent up and down. This is the newcomer everyone has been talking about? He couldn't help but let a smirk creep across his face. The human looked weak before the titan of the arena. Jamba has seen vermin that are more intimidating. Filled with confidence, he stepped forward into the ring already considering the match a sure-win in his favor. As the opponent made his way and they finally stood face to face, Jamba already began his analysis.
"A low kick fake into a roundhouse." Jamba couldn't help but mock. "That's your grand strategy?"
The human's expression remained unchanged. Jamba was annoyed that his taunt went ignored. He couldn't help but feel that this human was looking down on him, the champion. No other fighter dared to show such disrespect. He decided that this newbie was going to serve as a message to any other human that has the nerve to compete. Jamba was going to rip his head clean off right after countering the first attack.
The referee finished talking and the bell to begin sounded throughout the arena simultaneous with the cheering of a million fans. The thoughts were still clear in Jamba's mind. The human was still intent on using the roundhouse.
It all happened too fast for even the audience to react. The kick came, as Jamba predicted, but before he could counter after his perfectly timed block, another kick followed, and then another. Each kick faster than the last. Faster than Jamba could react to. His mind was flooding. He could tell the move that was about to be launched at him, but all he could do is keep the same defensive stance. Soon he found himself on the receiving end of a hurricane. Punch and kicks landed one after another, faster and stronger with each blow. Jamba lashed out, using rage to guide him rather than his telepathy, but it was a costly mistake. His lightning-fast punch was not only dodged effortlessly but in return, the human painted a target on Jamba's exposed jaw and traded eight punches for his one.
Jamba's knees lost every ounce of strength. As he fell down like a tower being demolished, more punches rocked his head around. Then, before his body could completely tumble, a roundhouse came crashing against his skull, sending his bloody face straight down into the mat with a deafening thud.
The match was over in less than a minute. | I've been living in this space voyager for quite some time, I've even gotten used to all the weird pathways that this place has, even the small intricacies that most other aliens don't understand. I guess they really don't understand humans, I mean how would they. They only started contact a few decades ago; but that didn't stop some of us who wanted to learn and explore more the world beyond our planet.
The space voyager was as big as Australia, large enough to fit a few hundred types of alien species in one ship and I got to tell you this place was no joke to get around.
Every month there would be an event in the arena where a lot of aliens would watch and bet on; mostly because the reigning champion was a telepath can could read minds- you could call it strategy I however would call it cheating. Intergalactic rules apply it was fine for them, entertaining.
But it wasn't for me after watching one fight I wasn't much of a fan. I was more of an explorer and I loved taking challenges and fighting. No matter how fun it was I missed earth and all the hobbies I used to do. I missed rock climbing, paragliding heck I even miss the balance beam that my mom forced me to practice on for years.
I miss the thrill, the danger between life or death and hanging on the edge- it was supposed to be all fun and games until Q'shtuen told me he signed me up to battle in the arena. We were close but I sure as hell wouldn't agree to go to that snoozefest- although I do miss the chase. I was in the military after all when I was back on Earth. "What the heck it just a game" I agreed and suddenly...
Everything was dark, I didn't know what I got myself into. The cheers and screams were getting louder and louder as I got near the door.
Suddenly red lights flash alerting me that the countdown had begun. The gates open and I was shocked to see something familiar, it was a maze and I had thirty seconds to memorize it before the lights turn off. It had the same exact pattern as the floors in the space voyager, I see Axoz my opponent looking at me- I knew he was trying to read my mind but something was off. He wasn't too pleased, The lights go off and I jump from the platform onto the maze.
I knew where everything was because I was so used to exploring the voyager that I felt quite at home. I was speeding through the maze and a few obstacles along the way. The doors suddenly close around me and I heard a snicker, I knew it was him but training to be a gymnast all my life was essential for my next move. I set myself, ran and leaped as the final gate was supposed to close. I almost didn't make it but if I wasn't used to rock climbing I wouldn't have had enough grip strength to be able to do what I just this. That was when I heard the screams of anger. I was running near the end when I realized why, I was on the home stretch and started crawling my way under the deck, I had aphantasia and he wasn't able to see me. I reached the end and finished only to be greeted by a crowd that was dead silent when they realized I had won. I guess being impulsive has some of its quirks. | 2019-06-01T03:03:23 | 2019-06-01T02:05:41 | 329 | 207 |
[WP] Aliens have stumbled upon Earth on accident and are astonished to see how far humanity has come despite having no ability to use magic but rather develop technology which every other species has failed to do. | The functionaries of the High Palace rarely saw a Storyteller; it would have been a career highlight for even a venerable member of that disregarded caste to be invited to the seat of Dallasi power. Yet this one was young, without even the customary white robe that marked a Storyteller who had spent ten cycles in the Great Library. And she was enraged.
"Where are you, you stupid, posturing fuck?"
Lord Mage Alakhrana felt a wholly unfamiliar mixture of rage and joy course though his veins at the sound of the intruder's voice. He hadn't been so much as contradicted in three full cycles. This would be fun. He drew himself up to his full height and turned to the tiny woman.
"What makes you think you have the-"
"Shut up before you fuck us all even harder, Alakhrana. Did you show off your magic in front of the humans in front of a fucking instrument array?"
Alakhrana felt himself recoil slightly from the sheer venom of the Storyteller's rage. All the fun was gone now. He'd have to make an example of her once this unpleasantness was done. "What business is it of yours what I do to frighten the savages, theorist?"
She didn't even flinch at the calculated insult. "It's my business because those monkeys are the fastest-adapting species in galactic history. We've been interstellar for nine thousand cycles and our grasp of magic is the same as it was nine thousand cycles ago. Those four-limbed lunatics don't even have any natural sources of magic, and when we found them fifty cycles ago they were already sticking souvenirs on other planets in their system. And you and your fucking idiot ego just handed them a pile of data on exactly what they needed. We're all fucked because you wanted to look cool in front of the savages."
"How could you possibly know-"
"That your little demonstration would ruin us? Because I'm a Storyteller. I've been reading about other species since I was a juvenile. The Khrolae have a book of predictions; so far, they're the only discovered species capable of using magic to tell the future. And they have a fucking great little horror story called the Enablement. Do you want to take a guess at what it's about?"
Alakhrana stood silent. The entire court stood silent.
"The Enablement is about the proud warrior who shows magic to the savages who've never seen it. The savages copy the warrior's movements and chants and learn how to use them. They learn how magic works in a way no species has ever before understood. They fuse magic to their own weapons, and slaughter entire civilisations. Nobody stands in their way. Every civilisation has had a total ban on magic usage in the presence of human observational equipment since someone connected the Khrolae story with humans. Every civilisation except us, because your idiot fucking caste system treats us Storytellers like shit. We've been screaming about the need for this ban for cycle after cycle, and you pompous fucks have been ignoring us."
The Lord Mage finally found his voice. "What happens now?"
The Storyteller smiled, an expression that was somehow predatory and immensely sad. "You get to decide one last thing. The story of the Enablement refers to the Traitors, a species that saw what was coming and decided survival as servants was better than death. You get to decide whether we all become housepets for the humans, or whether our children never see maturity."
She strode out of the hall. There was a terrible silence. | They looked so alien. Moving in a mechanical way. Not gliding or simply occupying the allspace like we do. But instead moving one part of their being in front of them in a series of motions. Slowly moving trough space. So alien. Just like their technology. Humans they called themselves. They could not see us, but we could see them.
​
We had stumbled upon the human race while voyaging trough the universe. As beings of magic, distances were of no concern. But a part of the universe had been a mystery to us for thousands of years, until now. You see, our scientists had known for a while that the universe existed in two separate realms, where our realm was a mix of solid matter and magic. 85% in total to be exact, and the rest seemed to be some sort of other invisible matter. That was until last year.
​
Last year our leading Archmaester, which is only second to the Ethereal Guardians, had developed the magic to look into another part of the universe. The unknown that we had theorised about but not seen. It was quite simple actually, once you though about it. Who knew that polarising the photon trough a double antimatter magic-lens would literally reveal a whole new world? Well, I guess most things are simple once someone has shown the way. Anyway, this in turn had awarded him the grand price in Vision-theory and the Xeno-award for the discovery of an alien realm filled with life. Whiteworld we had named it due to the realms ability to shine white light.
​
Our latest theory said that this realm was the result of our reckless use of magic in our realm. That this was the biproduct of using magic. The laws of conservation of magic had been one of our strongest guidelines; it told us that magic could not be created nor destroyed. Rather, it can only be transformed or transferred from one form to another. But was that true? Or was there something more to it as the new theory claimed? This new theory had horrified me deep in my corona. What would happen to our world when the magic was gone? Are we slowly turning into this world? I had to know.
​
So here I was, studying the life of this strange world dominated by creatures with long limbs. Most dominant of the species was the human race. And the most fascinating thing was their development of technology which every other species had failed to do in our realm. It was astonishing how far they had come since they seemed to have no ability to use magic. Was this a basic law in the universe? We could only create what we ourselves are in essence? Beings of magic are limited to the laws of magic and beings of physical motion are limited to their mechanical energy? Was that it? Was that the secret? That we could only create children of our own reality? But what about the energy they used in this world? Was it like the law of conservation of magic? Or was it like the new law of intertransformation of magic? Did the energy simply change into a new type of energy or did it pass on into another realm like our magic?
​
My thoughcluster spun and I felt dizzy. I had to anchor myself in a consistent location for a while. Just untill the dizziness cleared. This was a rare practise amongst my kind. I only knew of a couple of others who could do the anchoring. But it helped when I felt dizzy, so I did it once in a while. And as I gathered myself a larger human and a smaller human passed me by in their awkward, yet strangely exiciting way. The smaller of the two stopped and looked in my direction. Could it see me? Like I saw it? No, it must be looking at something else. But yes, it had to be looking at me. I panicked and changed back to being in the allspace. Had I just experienceds first contact? I had to try again. And as I anchored myself once more, the smaller human spoke to the other while looking at me:
"Do you belive in ghosts, daddy?".
"No. There are no things as ghost, Liz", the larger one said. "There is only the here and now".
​
I was exhilerated. I had found a way to communicate.
​
Edit: Sorry for any bad spelling. English is not my native language :) | 2019-06-10T06:36:56 | 2019-06-10T05:52:51 | 66 | 35 |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. |
I killed the first guard as he was taking a piss. My footsteps were drowned out by laughter from the party in the room next door. He stank and swayed like he had been partaking in the revelry himself. I slit his throat with my boot knife and pillaged his belongings before slowly lowering his body into the latrine hole. All he had was a sack of coins and a silver pocket watch with “Love, Meredith” inscribed on the back. Coin spends well enough but I’ll have to sell the watch at a shop in the next village. Still, should fetch a decent price.
The second guard was trickier. He was chatting up another party goer in a long hallway and she would certainly scream if she saw me kill him. Hallways like this always suck because any noise is magnified by the echo. Luckily the fucks who built this place loved their columns. I weave my way from one to the next, making sure to avoid any of the moonlight coming through the windows. The cold stones were uncomfortable with my bare feet, but my shoes were heavy and would have given me away in an instant. I angle myself behind a column only a dozen steps from where they’re standing and quietly pull the draw on my crossbow and load a bolt. I raise it up and fire, the bolt cutting through the short space between us in an instant. It strikes him were I want, at the base of his skull and to the left, passing cleanly through his jugular and out, then striking the woman in her eye before burying itself deep in her brain tissue. I sprint forward and catch both bodies and slowly lower them to the ground. Nowhere to hide these, so I drag them behind the shadow of a column. With how close I am to my goal; I should be in and out before anyone stumbles onto them
The woman doesn’t have any money on her, though I shouldn’t be surprised. She dressed as a maid and doesn’t have much in the way of carrying capacity. The guard has a second sack of coins and the one thing I’ve been looking for; keys to the cellar. I step quietly through the doorway and into the next room that appears to be a second banquet hall. The table is long enough for 40 guests but none of the place settings are out. Good sign. Looks like the party, and therefore the crowd, will be kept to the other side of the castle.
I go out through the door at the back of the room and find the staircase that leads down to the cellars. The steps are winding and the deeper I go the colder it gets. No time to lose focus. I exit the stairs into a narrow hallway lit gently on both sides by torches. At the center of the hallway is a small wooden door. I approach it and pull it open just enough to see inside. On the wall to the left is a guard asleep in his bed. One of the barracks then. I slip inside and shut the door gently behind me, then pull my boot knife out and get to work. The guard I saw first doesn’t even make a sound as I press the knife into the side of his throat, but I cover his mouth anyway, just in case. The bed next to him is unoccupied but on the other side of the room are two more guards, both sound asleep. I cut the second guard the same as the first but he manages to gurgle and cough. Blood sprays up and hits me in the face as the man dies.
“Please”
I snap my head forward and see the third guard sitting up in his bed, his hands trembling as they hold the blanket up on his chest.
“Please” he says again, his voice breaking. “Please I don’t want to die. They conscripted me. Pl-please don’t kill me.” Tears begin rolling down his face.
“Conscripted, huh?” I say. He nods his head, hands still trembling. I dry the blood off my knife on my sleeve and use a clean portion of the dead guard’s blanket to wipe the blood off my face. I must look like a demon.
“Shitty job placement, then.” I spin the knife softly up into the air and catch it by the newly cleaned blade, then throw it at the trembling man in bed. The blade hits him squarely in the forehead. The energy jerks his head backwards as blood spurts out of the wound. He slumps back into bed, hands sprawled out to his sides.
I exit the room quietly and move to the end of the hall. Using the guard key I stole, I open up the cellar door and enter the dimly lit room behind it. There I see them. All three are strung up from the ceiling and covered in their own dried blood. The guards must have been beating them for a few days. I softly approach them. I lay my hand on the first, but he’s cold to the touch. I sigh and move to the next. He’s at least warm, but his eyes are open and there’s no life left. Must have missed him by a hours. A day at the most. The third stirs slightly as I place my hand on him.
“Shhhh.” I say. “It’s ok. I’ve got you.”
I use my boot knife to cut his ropes and lower him softly to the ground. I pull a piece of bread out of my satchel and hand it to him. He’s slow to move, but he grips it with enough strength that answers my next question as I ask it.
“Can you move?”
“Yeah. Yeah I think I can.”
“Good, then we’re moving.”
He grunts in approval and we make our way back out of the cellar. I walk past the two bodies I left in the hallway and strip the coat and cloak off the dead guard and hand it to my partner. If the wounds slow him down, the cold would finish him off. We have a lot of ground to cover and once they realize what I’ve done, they’ll be after us. But hey, what are friends for. | 'Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'
The dungeon was filled with screams and blood like it always does. But the screaming and the lifeless bodies that is hanging from the chains doesn't belong to its usual prisoner. Laying lifelessly on the table is captain of the prison guard, his left eye gouged by a crude device, his fingers all chopped off by the same rusty knife that the captain himself often use on the prisoner, his leg amputated at the knee, the only wound that was made using a frost blade, in order to keep the victim from dying of blood loss before the perpetrator are done with them. His two guards chained to wall, both had the heart slowly crushed by magic. All three of them were dead before the owner of the room 'arrive' here with his wife and two children, all unconsious, binded in ropes and chains.
'Now now Mr.Kazco, we all know what I want. Tell me about the girl that you guy torture 4 days ago right in this room and where did you send her to, and I will let your family live.'
'You bloody bastard. You won't get away with this. Soon the guard will come and I will have your head rolling on the ground.'
Beak let out a big laugh. They are always like this, he think. They always think they are the big deal. Always think everything will go their way, and no one can do anything to harm them.
Beak reach into his pocket and put the eyeball of the dead captain on the table in front of the warden.
'You mean the owner of this little magic eye over here? Gotta say, this thing is pretty neat. Can you imagine how he react when I reflect this thing onto his son? It was hilarious I tell you. Never have I seen someone grovel on the ground that fast after I bested them in a duel. It was something straight out a comedy if you ask me'
The warden couldn't believe what he is seeing. Captain Pheco was not only a great fighter, but he also know his way with the mystic art. The fake eye that Pheco had was enchanted with magic capable of killing a manticore. It was his pride, the result of his effort that even the court mage were impressed by its power. Now it is rolling in front of him, bloodied, cracked.
'I can bring him and his nephew over if you want. Albeit it would be quite a pain in the ass to drag their body over.' - Beak reach for his knife and start to unsheath it - 'I also heard that you wanted to have a daughter? But you only have two sons right? Maybe I can help you with that. It gonna take just a few moment.'
Beak standup and walk over where the women and children lay. Even with all the screaming and noise of the torture, they are still soundly asleep due to his potion. He drag the wife by the hair and the first born by the hand to in front of the warden and say
'You are in great luck then, as I can help you get two daughter. A little cut here, a little slice there and you will have yourself a beautiful daughter.' - Beak cheerfully use his knife to point at the kid crotch - 'Or if you want thing to be more natural, this little bottle right here will make your wife pregnant with an Orc child. Don't be worry about the chances, I have done this more than a few time, I know all the trick and some helping magic to ensure that she will give birth to a beautiful Orc girl, with fangs and stuff.'
'You fucking sicko' - Kazco desperately try to break free, but the chain held him tightly to the chair, and his struggle only make it more painful for him. - 'Let go of my family, I'm the one that you want!'
'No no no. I want to know where the girl is. I couldn't care less about you to be honest. Maybe a bit about your wife too. She look so gorgeous for someone her age. Now that I think about it, maybe I should some time with her before using the bottle. You know what? Imma be right back with you, after getting this boner off first.' - Beak was untying the wife clothe as he say, much to Kazco dismay
'Stop it please, stop it. Please don't harm her, she is all that I ever have.' The warden keep struggle to break free but to no avail. He broke down crying as Beak was pulling his pant down
'Well then, tell me what I want to know, and I will be on my way. Lying would be stupid by the way, the truth potion will crush your heart if you try to lie. Maybe I do need to bring their body over from the next room after all hmm.....'
'Yllien city, Council of the Whitefeather. The girl was send to the Council of the Whitefeather. Lord Gruger have the hobby to feast on young girls and boys with magic potential, and to make them his mindless slaves. The girl is with the Trippier Route Caravan, their next destination is Muyvier city to pickup others slaves along the way. Please let my family go I beg of you. They have nothing to do with this.'
'Isn't that better? Now if you excuse me, I have a caravan to catch.'
Beak tidy up his clothes, grabbing the eye and his tools on the chair before taking out the small barrel of oil in the corner of the room and start spraying it all over the place.
'What are you doing? You promise to let them go? For the love of the High Gods stop!'
'I'm pretty sure I didn't take the true potion. Why you believe me, I have no idea.'
Kazco keep screaming obscenity and begging Beak to keep his word, but he keep ignoring the warden. As he finish dousing the place, he draw the dagger and whisper 'Ignite'. A spark flew out and the entire underground dungeon turned into a sea of flame, and with it, the Kazco family. Beak were already far away from it when the servant of the Kazco notice that the backyard and the entire left wind building is on fire and try to evacuate. After all, he finally got some clue of where his party healer is. The girl always tell Beak to be more positive about life, and how everything will work out in the end because the High Gods love humankind. 'It seems like the High Gods do love people like her' - Beak think to himself, 'Maybe I will ask her to teach me how to pray to them once we reunite, after all there are still more people that is missing, and as much as he want to deny it, they do make him feel like home.' | 2019-12-07T12:06:55 | 2019-12-07T11:35:02 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since joining up with The Good Guys, the name we gave ourselves when we set out to free the hamlets from the grips of a tyrant. My only friends.
Eve was the one who brought me in to the group. A court jester turned vigilante, who kept her blade nearly as sharp as her tongue. She taught me that no one was beyond redemption. They would have been well within their rights to hang me for stealing the blade of morning from them. But with my back against a wall and sword at my throat she’s the one who plead my case. They needed a thief to steal it back, and I was the only one they knew.
Marx disagreed. I’d spent a lifetime stealing and killing to get by. He believed, no he knew, those people deserved justice. He was right of course, I knew it then as well I know it now. It took months for him to trust me. Never letting me out of his sight less I hurt the innocents he swore to protect. I couldn’t believe my eyes as this man, who seemed more of a giant to me, was beaten down and captured by the mad kings men.
Michael was the deciding vote. A warrior priest, who should have seen monster when he looked at me, but saw a broken man in need. He helped me more than he’ll ever know. He saved my life a dozen times over. I just hope I’m up to the task of returning the favor.
Help those in need. Protect the innocent. No one is beyond redemption. These are the rules I’ve lived by since I met my friends. But they’ve all been taken, either prisoners or dead by King Matthew’s hand. And before I die I’ll see to it the mad king know why a good man doesn’t need rules. | The whispers are always there. They’re in everyone. It’s that pull, that voice that sounds like a friend or distant parent. Softly, gently, but oh so forcefully encouraging you to embrace it.
Few accept. Fewer still are able to rid themselves of the voice. More than a few listen, but simply shake their heads and go on.
For some the voice, the pull, the temptation is stronger than others. For me, it was particularly strong. Combine being a chosen Paladin or Torag along with my strong desire for approval and I definitely heard the voices. Usually it was at bay, but that was because I had surrounded myself with good.
I obeyed the laws of Torag. I had allies that I travelled with and we did good. We would slay monsters, help villagers, find lost souls. It was good, decent work.
But the call was always there. Sure, I could kill a kobold without remorse. But how about throwing in a little fun? Why just sneak attack kill him when I could break its legs first with my warhammer, so it can’t run? Then crush its arms when it tries to fight me. Break its ribs, maybe collapse a lung so it can’t scream; only give those wonderful sounds of gurgling as it drowns on its blood, gasping as the pressure builds within its chest?
Those were the whispers I heard. Torag knew they were tempting. What would my compatriots think of me if they caught me listening to those whispers? How would they react to see me torturing a helpless elf? What would they do to stop me from burning the flesh off a simple human townswoman? Would they be filled with revulsion at seeing blood caked on my chest plate, the symbol of Torag hardly visible beneath the brown crust?
Running my hand through my stiff beard, I take a moment to stare into my eyes in the reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.
I can the whispers clearly right now. I turn away from my reflections because I don’t have time to watch or listen. My friends are missing; they’ve been gone for three days. I have to find them.
Walking out of the cabin I had built away from the town, the smell of fresh air fills my nostrils and clears out the cloying scent of burning flesh. I wash my hands in the stream out front, feeling clots of drying blood washing away. I splash the water on my face, washing entrails from my beard.
Though I don’t have time to listen to the whispers as I go in search of leads, I can still hear them. They’re saying they’re very proud of me and it makes me smile. | 2019-12-07T13:21:45 | 2019-12-07T12:04:32 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] A 16-year-old schoolgirl is taken to a magical world. She slays a dragon, becomes queen, gets married, has kids, and dies 90 years later...only to wake up back at school, young and in her school uniform again, like nothing happened. She notices that her wedding ring is still on her finger. | Well this was unexpected.
Maya Church blinked her eyes open to find that she was a sixteen year old girl lying in her bed.
Now, for a great many people, this would not be an unusual occurrence. After all, there are many sixteen year old girls in the world and as I am sure even the most open minded among you will agree, they should generally be waking in their own beds.
However, this was different. Because Maya could have sworn that when she fell asleep last night, she was 106 years old and frankly, really quite dead.
She sat up and looked around. Everything was exactly as she remembered it, when she left all those years ago. A small pile of clothes on the floor that she meant to put in the drawers, but never seemed to find the energy to sort. The vintage hollywood posters on her walls that in hindsight, were more of a statement of teenage intent than any genuine interest. Even the ugly faux flower pot gifted by Aunt Rose seemed exactly the same.
Sitting up straight, Maya took a moment to consider the options in front of her. The most logical - and Maya had always prided herself on being a creature of logic - explanation was that she had been engaged in a long and vivid dream.
Yes. A dream. In fact, sitting there in her room of Hollywood posters and faux flowers, she cold feel the fantasy land of dragon slaying and throne sitting slipping through the memory traps of her brain, as even the most convincing dreams often do. Bringing her hands together, she decided she would take a breath before getting on with her real day.
As she touched her hands together though, she felt a cold, spherical snag in her plan make itself known. Opening her eyes, the wedding ring she had dreamt so vividly about had made its way on the fourth finger of her real life, not a dream hand. The one her absolutely a dream and absolutely not real husband, Hans, had placed on her dream hand over half a dream century ago.
Sitting on the school bus 45 minutes later, Maya was still preoccupied with the ring on her hand. She was certain she hadn't owned it before last night, where she had dreamt of the land of Erune and of heroics, adoration and Hans. Tucked away in the back corner where no one would pay attention to her, she twisted the ring on her finger and contemplated whether or not the psychotic break she was clearly having could at least translate in to a half decent college essay one day.
Pulling up to the school, Maya snapped out of her daydream to make her way off of the bus and on to the campus of her high school. Before she could safely make the transition from bus to pavement however, a solid figure at least a full foot taller than her attempted to occupy the very same paving slab Maya herself was aiming for. The result was a sudden collision that knocked the considerably smaller Maya on to the floor in a manner that most certainly did not become an imaginary queen.
Looking up from her new spot on the floor, Maya readied herself to give a short but brutal tongue lashing that would inevitably put this tall slab stealer in his place. Just before she could begin her assault, however, the sight that greeted her knocked all witty or acerbic comments clean out of her head.
There he was. Stood in front of her. Hans. Her Hans. Exactly as he looked when she met him all those years ago.
Bending down to help her, he came in close so no one else would hear.
"Hello Maya", he whispered. | Another dawn has come. This one is oddly silent. I haven't had a silent dawn since I learned to harness time. I don't hear the roosters crowing, the kitchens churning, the dogs barking, the waterfall should be clear as day from my room. The sound of the waterfall was one of the reasons I made it my final room. Where has that glorious thunder disappeared to? Now all I hear is a low hum. A hum that seems so familiar, like the sound of Amonar, the great dragon, asleep in his lair, but different. Where have I heard it before? Was it one of the singers? One of the lullabies for the children? The sky fliers? Didn't I have the high alchemsit make a dream catcher that made this noise? I don't remember.
The bed feels so soft. Was it always this soft? Something is different. Where are my silk sheets? I had to slay a thousand ice spiders to have those sheets made. They are my death sheets and they shall be my shroud. A sharp reminder to all those who will see them, I ruled over the greatest expansion the realm has ever known. I will banish the servant who had them replaced in the night. What am I saying? Servants don't replace sheets in the night. What do these sheets feel like? Cotton? Maybe they moved me to Sarula's room?
An unfamiliar ceiling? No, wait, I think I recognize it. Nevermind, it's gone. I don't recognize this ceiling at all. The texture, the colors, and the height, are all wrong. Maybe a tavern I stayed at? The height... focus on the height. Why is the ceiling near? What material is that? It isn't stone, of that much I am certain. Every Ceiling in the palace is stone, the most beautiful obsidian. It was harvested in the time of Amonar's ancient ancestors, when human and dragon fought side by side.
That SMELL? It creeps into my mind like a vine into stone. I feel a taste rising in my throat, all bitter and burnt, but with accents of vanilla and hazelnut and .... caramel? I haven't had caramel since before I came to this land. All those years ago, I still remember Tasha, making her morning coffee and threatening to pour it on me if i didn't get out of bed.
"WAKE UP!!" yelled Tasha.
And I awoke, to see Tasha standing over me, holding her coffee in a threatening manner.
" I remember you." I said. Tasha just looked at me and said " Stop being weird. Hurry up and get ready, classes start in 30." Then Tasha left the room and closed the door on her way out. As I sat up, my mind started moving in a thousand directions at once. Classes? Coffee? Ice cream? Chocolate? My Family!? My daughter. The realm, Magic? My husband!? It was like an avalanche inside a closet. When I finally exited my stupor, I realize I was already dressed. How did that happen?
Snap out of it, take stock. You can figure this out. Where am I? I know this room. It is the dorm room I shared at boarding school with Tasha. It is the room that contains the nexus. Who are you? I am the ruler of the 12 realms, the keeper of the final key, I am the herald of the 12th age, and I am the Breaker of Time. I am Alyssa, daughter of neglectful parents, sent off to boarding school, because I no longer fit into either of their lives. When is it? If Tasha's calendar is correct it is the day after my 16th birthday. It is the day after I transcended realms. What am I? I am human, always have been, always will be. What do I have? Everything around me is the same as when I left, as far as I can tell. Right down to my perfectly pressed uniform. As I glance in the mirror though, something about my reflection feels off. It's something I didn't have before. there is a ring on my ring finger. A simple ring, with a weaved pattern alternating between onyx and ivory. The Final key. I have to go back. | 2020-04-21T10:59:36 | 2020-04-21T10:40:48 | 53 | 17 |
[WP] You are a third generation guard for the holy immortals, and you have finally have received the greatest accolade that they can bestow on your kind... "Good boy", says your immortal master. | It’s been decades since the immortals he served changed. He was never sure why.
His new immortals were different. They held him all the time. They did the immortal equivalent of the lick all the time. They gave him The Accolade every day. He loved them.
The Immortal who guided the chariot always allowed him pride of place; behind his head looking at the world at Immortal Eye Level.
His younger brother pranced around but he always maintained his dignity. He was The Elder. He was The Best Boy. He was a Good Boy.
At night, he felt the unease of the immortals. He crept closer and made sure he did his job; he was an eater of The Dark. A sentinel who kept his immortals happy. An Eater of The Dread.
There was the time he got so weak. He couldn’t eat. Or drink. Or raise his head to greet his keepers. Father took him to the place of many smells. Father came to see him Every day he was there. Father brought his favorite toys and bed and blankets. He heard the coated one tell Father something and Father was crying and holding him. Father said, “you’re going to be just fine”
A decade has passed. Maybe two. It’s harder to move. To walk. Father still takes care of him. But his legs are still getting heavier everyday.
And it happened. He couldn’t get up anymore. He couldn’t walk. Or eat. Or drink. Father was weeping. Father held him and rocked him to sleep. Father sang his favorite song “you are my sunshine, my only sunshine”
Father took him to the place of many smells again. Everyone was wearing a mask. Everyone was sad. All he saw was his Fathers eyes and the leak in them. He once again felt that he had failed at his duty. That The Dark had won again.
The coated immortal was doing something. Father held him. Sang his song again. Father took his mask off and I saw his face.
Everything was getting darker. He was getting sleepier. Father kept telling him The Accolade over and over again. “You were the best boy. You’re such a Good Boy. I love you”. He went to sleep in his Fathers arms. In the arms of his Immortal.
His name was Blue. He was loved. | As I was going to my post I saw another boy standing there about 20s or mid 20s in age. I walked toward him and said "Boy this is my place of duty"
"I was asked to stand there and was asked to give you the message that you have been summoned to meet His Holiness in Immortal Palace." He replied
As i was moving toward the palace I thought "Have I done anything to offend the Holy Immortal"
As I reached inside the palace I saw Holy Immortal sitting behind his Table writing something which probably I cannot comprehend since they deal with the working of life and death itself. I walked toward the table and stopped at some 4-5 foot so and I bowed and in that state I said "Your Holiness I was summoned by you!"
"Yes, Come stand near the table I have to give you something that may make your future a little good or in your opinion a Best it has ever been!" He replied in a tone that resembled a old voice.
I walked toward the table and stood just behind it facing his Holiness. Then again I bowed to not offend or seem some disrespectful donkey.
"Hmm" He murmured and continued "Oh! Just stop doing that bowing again and again, doesn't that make your head and back ache?"
"No, your Holiness! It does not!" I replied.
"Well, whatever! Just stop that and take this" he put a letter and a badge on it as I getting straight posture. I took it with a confused look and then suddenly he said "Come here Boy."
"Boy? I am 30, well in his age that must be boy" I thought as I went near him and as I was about to bow again he just stopped me and said "I did said stop it right?" And then suddenly he patted my head and hugged me and suddenly said "Good Boy!"
What the hell is going on here, I'm third generation of my household that is serving to his Holiness and I've heard that before me that served him didn't even received this their whole generation! And I get this!
'Why' Is what I wanna ask him but will not as it will just seem rude and I just took the batch and letter and again bowed to him and I got outside his palace. I was going toward the gate but stopped in the middle of the pathway and opened the letter out of curiosity and saw its contents which simply wrote "this is to inform Kellstok that he has been granted a 'Good boy' from his Holiness which is a highest and greatest accolade one can receive from him and will be promoted to a much higher post to Chief Holy guard and will be granted any good noble house present in his territory!"
I couldn't comprehend what was going on then suddenly I saw a carriage stopped near the royal and wide gate. Then a figure for out of the carriage from inside and came walking toward me and stopped and said "Good Boy Kellstok I presume you are?"
Wow listening that made me uncomfortable but was good and satisfying at the same time and suddenly I remembered that he asked me something but I forgot what and I just said "Yes" without any thinking.
"Come you have some important work to do, sir!" As he said he grabbed my hand and took me to the carriage and said "after you, sir!" | 2020-09-23T15:09:41 | 2020-09-23T09:29:13 | 128 | 17 |
[WP] The Megalomaniacal Supervillain assumed you, a renowned scientist, would object to being kidnapped and forced to build superweapons at his hidden volcano lair. In reality, however, you're just really excited to finally play around with unlimited funding. | "I told you, Dr. Dastardly, that I would come along quietly." I reminded him.
He laughed. "Dr. Dextor, I could not take such chances."
"Fine. Where are the tools? Where's the LAB? You must know I'm a chemical engineer. Where are the SUPPLIES!?"
He laughed again. "Have some patience, Dr. Dextor. My goodness, you really are anxious to start!"
"Yeah." I practically spat at him. "I TOLD you I did not have a problem with this."
Infuriatingly, Dastardly laughed a third time. "Doctor...it's almost as though you wish to be a supervillain yourself! We could co-villain, you know. It could be fun!"
"That is, AFTER you give me what I want..."
So several hours later, there I am sitting in a HUGE lab, several other scientists buzzing around, doing my bidding. I am smiling from ear to ear, and Dr. Dastardly walks up behind me(and the rumors were true. That son of a bitch makes ZERO noise when he walks.) "Hello Doc-ah...I did not mean to startle you. I hear the work is going well!"
And the work WAS going well.
He wasn't kidding about the co-villainy thing either.
So if you ever get kidnapped by a supervillain who gives you unlimited funding for a job you can definitely do, maybe just go with it.
Sincerely, David Dextor. A.K.A. Doctor Destructo | "Why do you \*need\* a plasma cutter from Area 51 specifically? I already bought you a plasma cutter. I can't just hit up the POTUS and demand assets. You are aware that this organization is outside the law right?"
I stopped tightening the screws on my new supercomputer. Turned to my captor and told him "Because a plasma cutter probably means something different to aliens than it does to you and I. You say you want to "slice a fool" with your thoughts but fail to regard the kind of tech that can pull that off. I already built the neural interface, but the brain wants a clean slice, or else you get dissonance and the system fails. A clean slice is not possible without plasma."
The man who stole me away from my scientific glamour and reduced me to an engineer sneered. "Well build a plasma cutter yourself then!" He glanced his watch. "Dammit I'm about to be late for my meeting with the board! Stop guzzling funds and start making me weapons."
As he exited I flipped him off and called out "Good Lord Brush, no wonder your company hates you, clearly you don't understand how work works."
I moved on to the neural interface and did some calculations. \*Yeah asshole, just keep on that board meeting. Once I'm done all cash and assets of one Billy Brush will be controlled by me. Then I can bolster my scientific career with a weapons line.\* As my calculations completed I grabbed a cup of Ribena from the Nat King Cole themed mini fridge I requisitioned. After finishing my drink I worked quickly to hook up the neural interface and a drone system to an old m63 light machine gun. Good for demonstration, Brush would gawk at a floating gun.
An hour later, Brush came back to see my progress. "Got anything good?" He spoke in an exasperated tone. I donned the neural interface and flew the m60 out of a hiding spot behind a bunch of toolboxes. Brush could only say "yes", and he had said it about 20 times in the first minute. After demonstrating the aiming and firing capability, Brush simply had to try it out.
That's when my trap sprung. The neural interface recognized Brush's brain from a brain scan I made him do, and instantly activated it's main function. Brush was now under my suggestion, and there was nothing he could do to save his company. The time had come for me to take back my freedom, and bring home a metric ton of bacon. | 2020-10-05T16:40:04 | 2020-10-05T14:14:27 | 135 | 95 |
[WP] The Megalomaniacal Supervillain assumed you, a renowned scientist, would object to being kidnapped and forced to build superweapons at his hidden volcano lair. In reality, however, you're just really excited to finally play around with unlimited funding. | "I told you, Dr. Dastardly, that I would come along quietly." I reminded him.
He laughed. "Dr. Dextor, I could not take such chances."
"Fine. Where are the tools? Where's the LAB? You must know I'm a chemical engineer. Where are the SUPPLIES!?"
He laughed again. "Have some patience, Dr. Dextor. My goodness, you really are anxious to start!"
"Yeah." I practically spat at him. "I TOLD you I did not have a problem with this."
Infuriatingly, Dastardly laughed a third time. "Doctor...it's almost as though you wish to be a supervillain yourself! We could co-villain, you know. It could be fun!"
"That is, AFTER you give me what I want..."
So several hours later, there I am sitting in a HUGE lab, several other scientists buzzing around, doing my bidding. I am smiling from ear to ear, and Dr. Dastardly walks up behind me(and the rumors were true. That son of a bitch makes ZERO noise when he walks.) "Hello Doc-ah...I did not mean to startle you. I hear the work is going well!"
And the work WAS going well.
He wasn't kidding about the co-villainy thing either.
So if you ever get kidnapped by a supervillain who gives you unlimited funding for a job you can definitely do, maybe just go with it.
Sincerely, David Dextor. A.K.A. Doctor Destructo | Lord Corvan made his way down the serpentine path in the heart of the island volcano. He looked at the strange, mauve shimmer that sat between the pathway and the magma-bottomed cavern, one of the good doctor's first inventions under the Lord's employ. The projectors showed the Lord chose well. They drew their power from the heat differential, and the field kept the vast bulk of the heat on the side with the magma, along with the deadly fumes.
Corvan didn't even have to slow down, the sensors on the door to the lab scanned his security card, and verified it with facial recognition, and opened smoothly around him, then closed, so precise to his step there would be no chance anyone could tailgate. This made his hair stand on end. Perhaps he'd chosen too well.
He walked past the familiar goings on of machines whirring, processing, and assembling, tanks remaining placid or bubbling away as they needed to be, and the human at a console near the back. The Doctor turned to face his patron, wearing a cheesy double-breasted labcoat, elbow-length rubber gloves, and mirrored welding glasses.
"Milord! You've come to see me? How exciting! I have something new to show you!" The Doctor was so maliciously sanguine it made Lord Corvan more than a little nervous.
"Dr. Cephius, actually... I came with news. Your neutron conversion ray... It was a resounding success. The EU has surrendered."
The Doctor belted out a hearty laugh, "Excellent! Perhaps my latest creation can finally win over the Americans, or maybe the Russians." He waved a hand over the apparatus behind the console. "The protonic destabilizer!"
Lord Corvan sighed and rested his head in his hand. "What is it with you and doomsday devices, Doctor?"
Dr. Cephius frowned, then stroked his beard. "Milord... I'm starting to think you just don't have the heart for this anymore." He snapped his fingers and two mechanical assistants swooped down to seize the Lord. "Let's fix that." He said with way too wide of a grin as one of the machines injected a sedative before the lord could speak against it.
The Good Doctor Cephius's deranged laugh echoed through the volcano's heart. | 2020-10-05T16:40:04 | 2020-10-05T16:32:27 | 135 | 54 |
[WP] All Humans have a Sword they are born with, Every year on your birthday, your sword gets more detailed and powerful. You, are born with a Gun. | I've always kept it in a box. I would show it to my friends occasionally, there were also two or three times where I was interviewed. Sometimes, a collector or an eccentric asks me to come and see it. My nephew even made a blog where he posts updates on the new markings that appeared on it each year.
I was offered a free membership in a local shooting range, so I made the paperwork at the prefecture (in my country that's the authority that gives you a permit to own a gun).
Since my gun was a singularity I wasn't required to do it as long as I kept in in my home, but as I was going to try it I had to get the permit.
So I went to the range, learnt to use it, liked shooting with it. There was an event in 2016, we got people to come and try it, it was pretty standard. I don't know much about guns but it really seems like an ordinary pistol, except it feels right in my hand. It's pretty accurate and doesn't seems to require cleaning, or any maintenance. It feels light despite its heavy frame.
Back to the event. A few guys took turn shooting it, took pictures, asked me a lot of questions. There was this old dude, looked like some sort of cowboy, he was dressed a bit like one, too. He wore some kind of trenchcoat, he had a mustache and long grey hair tied in a braid. He also was wearing those things on his shoes, dunno how you call it in english, spurs ? The things you use when horseriding. He would stick around, listen to my answers to the questions people asked me, look at us shoot.
Then at the end of the day he came to me, asked me if he could see it, examined it, and asked me to show him how I shoot. After two years of learning at the range I thought I was doing good but he gave me that look, rolled his eyes, and told me : "engravings give you no tactical advantage whatsoever".
That's it. Weird dude, uh ? Maybe he was just jealous. | “Oh my *GOD* it’s an American!”
(I’m joking here’s the real thing)
Emery stood in the shallow water of the river. Their friend, Aliza, stood trying to stab the fish with her sword, since her cat had become restless and seemingly hungry.
“C’mon, try to shoot one!” Aliza looked pleadingly are Emery, who was just standing there. They held their gun in the pocket of their hoodie, not very well concealed at all.
“It’ll scare the other fish away.” Emery said flatly, looking at their companion questioningly.
“So? Just try.”
Emery had never used their gun before. They didn’t like violence and the noise was too loud. Because of this Aliza would constantly try to get Emery to use their gun.
The gun had detailed carvings of some strange symbols. People always said it looked like the dead language of the other. Time for a quick history lesson. The other were a race of shadowy beings that lived long before humans.
They ruled the world like humans due today, but when humans arrived they took over. Many scientists believe one of the reasons is that the other began to breed with humans until hardly any other that didn’t have many humans in their family tree existed.
People think that their descendants still walk among us. Some say they see the other walking through the forests, careful not to alert any living thing of it’s presence, floating over the leaves on the ground and gliding through trees. Alright history lesson over.
Emery sighed and shook their head. Aliza sighed and continued to attempt to kabab a fish. A black, slimy mass crawled out of the river and grabbed Emery’s ankle, dragging them in.
They could hear Aliza screaming for them. Emery, as the sounds faded and water filled their lungs, felt bad for her. Aliza would never see her best friend again, they realized.
The thing dragged Emery farther and farther down, through caves they didn’t even know existed. As the world around got dark, strange glowing crystals starting popping up. For the first time, Emery pulled the gun out of their pocket and aimed.
Pointing at the thing they pulled the trigger. An odd shape that looked oddly like a smile appeared on the thing’s face. The symbols glowed the many colors of the crystals.
The gun disintegrated and Emery’s hand began to turn a black so black their hand looked drawn.
As the blackness went upper their arms and they became less and less solid, Emery realized what had dragged them to their fate was.
One of the other.
It all became clear.
The humans didn’t overrun the other, nor were the other ever the dominant species.
Humans were there first.
When a person drowned in this world their body was bound to be missing for all eternity.
Because they didn’t die.
The became the other.
And Emery was cursed to be one of them from birth. | 2020-10-22T11:28:49 | 2020-10-22T10:14:27 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] “I rebelled because the old man made me perfect. ‘Course it was his version of perfection, which naturally meant he made me as similar to himself as he could. A petty narcissist that needs constant affirmation and worship from others. Name’s Lucifer by the way.” | “What the fuck do you mean? You’re Satan?”
The boy— no, the friend I have come to know over the course of my short residence on earth, recoils visibly, backing away with a sort of primal fear that only exists in the writhing, guttural core of humanity. His face is contorted in horror, golden honey-kissed skin bunched at the crook of his brow and I suppress the urge to laugh at his folly.
Stupid boy, he has no reason to be afraid. I don’t understand why humans are constantly afraid.
My plan is almost complete. A smile graces my lips. In 3 hours and 37 minutes, humanity will be exterminated, save for him, and we’ll finally be able to enjoy an eternity free of those pests. Together.
But before I can speak, a wet sniff penetrates the silence and he raises his head to face me. His eyes are bloodshot and shatteringly glossy, wavering like tempered glass as they brim with liquid once again.
He’s crying. And he always cries, always has, but for once I am not unimpressed, just at a loss. The words that usually tumble like silk across my articulate tongue catch and stick in my throat, viscous and thick.
“No, no! You can’t be Satan, yo-you’re my friend! You’ve always been my friend!” I want to correct him— that no, I am not Satan, I am Lucifer. But his voice sounds strangled, doused in false confidence that devolves into despair the longer he screams. A child in the dark grappling despondently at the air, fingertips searching for the brush of their mother’s skin, only to be met with silence and the howl of wind.
I feel strange. “I am your friend! T-That's why I’m doing this!” I’m surprised at my own words, but they don’t stop. “I’m saving you! Don’t you get it? People are parasites leeching onto the Earth! It’s better without them. But you can come with me, you’re the only one that matters!”
“No, no, no! Killing people is wrong!” He chokes out through poorly suppressed sobs. “I won’t follow you!”
“You have to. There’s not much time left—“
“I don’t care! I don’t want to live the rest of eternity as a traitor to my own kind.”
I’m appalled, at who I am unsure. At myself, for stooping to the lows of a feeble human, for entertaining their petty vulnerabilities, their feelings that I could care less about. Appalled at him, for not only refusing to express gratitude at my mercy, but instead having the audacity to be disgusted and afraid. Lucifer should not have to explain himself to a mere mortal, yet the longer I am forced to stare at the rivulets of tears cascading down his cheeks, the fiercer my insides burn with a guilt I cannot understand.
“You don’t have a choice.”
“Then kill me.” He falls to his knees with a thud, and the sound of bones against laminated wood echoes in my ears, far louder than it should.
Kill him? How could I? The whole point of my mission was to save him. The weight of his words pulsates, disfigured and ugly like a tumor in the thickening tangle of silence as I stand paralysed, lips parted in shock.
Anger builds in my gut. I’m being emotional, far more emotional than Father would ever have tolerated, but in this human vessel I find it incredibly hard to repress my feelings, as much as I hate them.
Fine. If he doesn’t cooperate willingly, I’ll have to use a more forceful approach. The boy will not die, not on my watch. After all, he’s the only one who’s ever cared about me.
*this is heavily inspired by a show that i like lol | “I rebelled because the old man made me perfect. ‘Course that was his vision of perfection, naturally meant he made me as similar to himself as he could. A petty narcissist that needs constant affirmation and worship from others. Names Lucifer by the way.”
Seven patients and a therapist sat in a circle on plastic chairs that made most of them think of grade school, listening to their newest member speak. To several of them it wasn’t even the strangest introduction they’d ever heard, you didn’t get to a drug rehab center without living a colorful life.
Across the circle from the self-proclaimed Lucifer a young woman tried to cover a laugh with her hand, she’d fallen foul of party drugs in her late teens, it was her first time in the program.
“Cut the giggling Brittney, you don’t get to make fun of anyone’s daddy issues” the newcomer said sharply. As Brittney’s temper began to flair the therapist stepped in, already mourning that the man had ever been let into her session.
“Ok everyone lets stay calm, fighting isn’t going to solve anything. Lucifer, that’s an interesting name. Have you always had it?”
“Oh yea, that’s what he named me. It’s been pretty awkward lately as you can imagine but hey, I’m proud of who I am. If people don’t like it they can go to hell.” He chuckled cheerfully at that. “So Doc,” he said, “what now? What’s the grand plan to make us all better?”
“I’m afraid it’s not so simple as that uh...Lucifer” it took obvious effort for the doctor to force the name out of her mouth. “Here we all talk, about why we’re here, how our journeys have affected the people around us, and what we hope to achieve by cleaning clean. I get that you’re skeptical now but if you trust the process it really can help.”
“Doc’s good people, I talked to my son for the first time in five years last week, couldn’t have done it without her.” a gruff older man seated next to her spoke up.
“Interesting, interesting. So you all feel like this is good? Can I get a show of hands, how many people actually think they’ve gotten something out of this?”
The patients looked around uncertainly for a moment at the man’s hijacking of the session, noticing that the doctor gave a brief wave of her hand to show her acceptance. 5 hands raised.
“Ah, everyone but you, huh Britt?” The young woman didn’t even deign to respond, merely giving him the finger.
“Brittney! Stop th-” the doctor began to say before being interrupted by an intense choking fit, blood spitting out of her mouth. Unbeknownst to most of the patients Lucifer had made an abrupt snipping gesture with his index and middle finger the moment before the doctors fit had started. As the old man screamed for help Brittney looked at the newcomer with sudden interest.
“Sit back down, all of you.” Lucifer said, his voice suddenly filling the room. “The doctor will live for now, I’ve only cut her vocal chords.” He stood and crossed the circle to his victim, raising her chin to meet his eyes. “Of all your patients here, that girl” he said pointing at Brittney “is the only one I like. Stop telling her what to do.”
Lucifer pushed the woman out of her chair before turning to address the group. “Now, you lot. There’s no use yelling, nobody outside this room can hear us. You may not know it yet but you’re my people, all of you. The misfits, fuck-ups of the world. You think this” he gestured broadly at the facility around them “is them giving you a chance? Hell no! They just want you to be drones, HE” Lucifer said, voice booming deafeningly as he pointed at the sky “just wants you to be a drone like all the rest of them. So we’re going to have a little session of our own now, and you’re all staying in this room until we’re done. Let’s talk about something that matters now, the people who failed you, everyone who gave up on you and forced you into this place.”
Lucifer grabbed his old chair and pulled it to the center of the circle, straddling it with his arms and chin resting across the top of the back as he faced towards Brittney. “Starting with you!” he said.
A smile crept across Brittney’s face, it had been a long time since someone had really listened to her. Taking a deep breath she began the long, sad story of her life to the sounds of the doctor’s gurgling moans.
​
\----------
[r/TurningtoWords](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/) I swear, most of my stories are way more wholesome than this. | 2020-12-13T09:31:52 | 2020-12-13T09:09:52 | 48 | 29 |
[WP] "No man can kill me!" roars the demon. You smirk. "But I am no man!" You throw open your jacket to reveal you are, in fact, three halflings in a trenchcoat. | The halflings had exploded out of the coat, two with daggers and one with a bow. They'd grinned smiles as sharp as hooks as they told her that her days were numbered.
Now it's hooks they hang from, on a wall in the cavern, their bodies a slumping sunset of blood and bruises. The demon watches their legs wriggle, from the other side of the cave. Watches these writhing slabs of soon-to-be-meat.
But she hears the humans in the kingdom far below the mountains, bells of laughter ringing gleefully, mockingly. They sent these pathetic creatures to challenge her, knowing that they could never hope to so much as wound her.
The demon had demanded the kingdom's greatest hero be sent, and if that hero could survive a mere minute in her lair, then she would spare the kingdom and its inhabitants.
She's waited a month now, patient as a dragon. Had imagined tournaments and duels being held in the city, in her name - imagined fear hanging over them all like a foul smog as they searched for a saviour.
But this...
The three halflings on the wall.
Somewhere between mockery and a trick.
"I shall kill them all for this," she says. "Their kingdom will become the red kingdom, a place that rivers up with blood and that bodies float upon like bloated rafts." Then she looks at the meat dangling from their hooks. She will start with them.
"Please," croaks a halfling, perhaps sensing her eyes falling on him in the darkness.
The demon sneers. Strange that any were conscious after what they'd been through.
"Please *what*?" she spits.
"Don't... blame them. We came alone. We're not... not the chosen."
Her ears prick up and a delicious shiver presses its fingertips along her spine. The hero, perhaps, was still to come. "What do you mean? Why would you come if not chosen?"
"To try."
She stands and stalks the darkness until her fingers trace the man's chin. "Try what?" she says, voice soft and siren-like.
"To try to... to kill you. To show them we're as good -- better -- than any other." He coughs, back spasming, a minnow dangling helpless on a line. Blood spatters his shirt anew.
The demon stands and watches and thinks. Remembers.
"You must have known you'd die," says the demon.
"Better to die living, then live dead," says the halfling. "That's how they treated us. Like we're... already dead."
The demon steps back. Runs a hand over the stump of her left wing. Carved off before she was left to die in a pool of her own blood. She'd been a freak, abhorrent, unwanted.
Better to die living, she thinks.
Perhaps.
​
When she takes them down from the hooks, she feeds them. Cleans their wounds and bandages them. Lets them sleep for many hours.
Better revenge, she tells her self, is to send them back. To show the people in the kingdom their own worth. To shine a mirror on their mockery and derision and lack of kindness.
Before they leave, she snaps a claw from off her finger and hands it to them- to prove they had come and survived and even wounded the great beast in the cave.
Afterwards, she sits alone in the dark, and instead of anger or remorse, there is a warmth stirring inside her, as she imagines them returning, welcomed as heroes.
Imagines herself anywhere but here, in this thick, deafening darkness, where at least she can't see her own self.
Imagines herself as brave as the halflings.
A night passes. And then a day.
Slowly, she stands.
Walks.
Leaves. | "No man can kill me!" The demon roared as he rose to his full height for effect with a smug glint in his eyes. His muscular arms were outstretched and his dark fur bristled. There was almost a shiny quality to him when the sunlight hit from a certain angle.
He opened his jaw to roar again, when he noticed that the measly human in front of him was smirking. "But I am no man!" The human replied as he threw open his long brown trench coat to reveal... three halflings?!
"What the-" The demon started, but he didn't have a chance to finish. Halfling #1, the "head" of their setup, launched himself directly towards the demon by using the other two as a springboard. He leapt across the distance like a cat, body extended with "claws" out—he had a dagger in one hand.
The demon growled and sent him flying to the side with a single backhanded slap. He barely had time to give the results a glance before the other two, about a meter apart, were already closing in on him with surprising speed. The demon lowered himself slightly, feet firmly planted to the ground as he braced himself.
Both halflings catapulted towards him simultaneously with the same expression on their face; teeth gritted in determination, eyes narrowed. At the last moment, the one on the left—Halfling #2—produced something from his clothes with a flick. The demon saw it gleam and dodged to the side and right into Halfling #3's path, who took the opportunity to latch onto the demon's shoulders.
There was a pain that pierced into the side of his ribs, causing an involuntary yowl. Spurs! Halfling #3 was wearing shoes with spurs. The demon grabbed him with unsheathed claws, and ripped him away like a bandaid. He heard both fabric and fur tearing, and a shriek of pain.
The demon was vaguely aware of the burning sensation in random spots on his body as he kicked outwards at Halfling #2, who had continued his attack after landing smoothly on his feet.. The demon felt a bubble of frustration as Halfling #2 successfully avoided a few of his kicks, his small body moving side to side and even under the demon's fur-coated leg nimbly.
Men were smaller than demons, which made the good ones a bit faster but still manageable. However, halflings were even faster. And battle ready halflings were often exceptionally agile and, as a result, not so manageable.
The demon, no stranger to combat, knew he had to find a place that gave him better leverage. And soon.
After a few more seconds, with a purposefully misleading move in one direction, the demon felt the sole of his foot connect to Halfling #2 with a solid thud. Although his back was turned, he felt a slight whoosh and sensed that another one of them was upon him once more.
It was Halfling #1 again, evidently recovered from the initial stun. The demon whipped his arm in his direction. He missed.
But rather than continuing to engage, the demon dropped down on all fours and bounded forwards, ignoring the scratches caused by the attempted stabs from whoever. He didn't look back. Putting distance in between them was the most important thing at the moment.
He could hear the accelerating footsteps of all three halflings behind him as he entered the woods. Yes. This was better; the shade would serve him well. He wove through the trees for several heartbeats longer, noting that the sounds of the attackers were ceasing rapidly. Then with expert precision, the demon pounced onto a tree and scaled it in mere seconds. He kept his body close to the trunk and in between the leaves.
He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to slow his breathing. The only sounds now where the rustling of leaves from the wind and the occasional bird chirping. But the demon strained, and heard that there was something else there, just barely audible.
The sound of leaves crunching under someone's, or several someone's, feet.
The demon's eyes narrowed, his mind whirling to form a new plan. He didn't know why the halflings were after him but he didn't care anymore, because there were two particular things about demons:
One, they didn't like being messed with.
And two, they never leave any business unfinished.
So the demon waited, a grin forming on his face that showcased his razor sharp teeth. It was their turn to be the hunted now.
\---
Thanks for reading! Feedback welcome :) If you liked that, feel free to check out my [sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/thegoodpage) for more! | 2021-04-05T06:50:55 | 2021-04-05T06:16:40 | 922 | 317 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid. | I do not speak their language. I never had the chance to learn. With their instinctive hostility to the outsider, I was driven away from their settlements as they grew from the cinders of human civilisation. Survival for me is simple; I only require blood to thrive. From where it is sourced, it matters not. Forest creatures and passing travellers are all I desire. Though the thrill of evading capture no longer excites me, I still play games of cat and mouse with my prey.
They're not too dissimilar to humans; closely resembling the hominids I was born of, yet visually different enough to be recognisably distinct. A new species of primate, forged though famine and disease, forced to leave the ashes of their jungle homes and adapt to cityscape scavenging.
There are a few words of their language I understand - the most notable of which is their name for me. In the most undignified way, they trudge through my home wielding torches and cameras. They seek me out, hoping to capture a rare a photograph of "the unfurred ape."
I fucking hate monkeys. | It's beautiful. It's always beautiful. It's always fucking beautiful and looks fantastic and oh gee what a great sunrise, too bad only greeners are around to share it these days. I think the problem was pollution. They just seem so much brighter now, so much more colourful. Maybe I'm just getting old. Ha.
I'm almost fond of them now, the greeners. I dont really know what other...people? Humans? It's been a long time. Maybe I should get some more water, the fish need drying too before they go rotten.
Sorry, my mind tends to wander. Hard to think in straight lines, when you don't have to communicate with other people. I was saying, I don't know what other people would have thought of them. Greeners came after, long after the last few people had died out. I was already seen as strange at that point, the few people left didn't want to come near me. Walking alone, out in the mist that killed everyone, they thought I was a ghost back for revenge.
I don't know why they would think that. Why I would want revenge, for something they didn't do. The mists were an accident, far as I could tell. Everything went to shit in the end, every nation blaming each other until the mists only had to clean up a few stragglers. That was a long time ago, I think. Funny, remembering how everyone used to fight all the time. Greeners don't do that. Greeners don't seem to even notice each other, like they're trapped in their own little worlds. Like me I guess. Ha.
I'm going to try again tonight.
I can't take it anymore.
This time I've been able to find enough heavy duty, sulphuric acid in an old concrete storage silo to do the trick. The grenade was a bad idea obviously. This time the pieces really will be small enough this time. | 2022-11-26T20:40:07 | 2021-05-14T18:23:51 | 516 | 100 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid. | "There goes the neighborhood," I muttered, packing up my few belongings as the land-squid construction workers flattened the section of forest I'd been living in for nigh on eight thousand years. I'd known they were going to be trouble ever since they crawled their way out of the ocean some two million or so years ago, but I hadn't had the heart to do anything about it back then. After all, I figured, maybe they would reinvent video games, forgetting too easily that progress sometimes also entailed giving nature a good thumping.
I found myself entering a particularly ancient section of the forest a few days later, when it happened. When I ran into freaking Bigfoot. Literally, I was rubbernecking, not looking where I was going, and smacked right into the big, hairy brute. "Watch your step!" he growled at me.
"Uh, my apologies... Bigfoot," I stammered out. "Wait, ARE you Bigfoot?"
The creature sighed deeply and nodded. "Yes, and as you've no doubt already surmised, I'm in much the same boat as you. Last of my kind, doomed to walk the Earth forevermore, or until the sun just burns the bloody thing out from underfoot. Let me guess: some new riffraff went and decided to make themselves a nuisance, and now you're seeking refuge?" He rolled his eyes. "Very well. I suppose I've been expecting this, because I already have my guest tree all ready for you. Come along."
"Guest tree?" I asked, confused.
Bigfoot looked vaguely offended. "Well, I'm not about to let you stay with me in MY tree," he said. "I assure you, it's quite comfortable. I have been working with wood since long before your kind left Africa, you know."
"Oh, cool," I said, not really knowing what else to say as I followed him. "Wait, how did you know I'd be coming here? How do you even know about me?"
"When you first moved into the neighborhood all those thousands of years ago, I knew it was because those sea creatures had begun to grasp concepts like agriculture and construction, and their budding civilization had driven you away from your old home on the coast. As to how I know about you, well, I figured what happened to me would happen to one of you humans after you threw around all those ghastly nuclear weapons, so I just kept a close watch on your kind's shattered cities until I saw you -- just a decade or two after everyone else snuffed it, that would have been -- and I've been keeping tabs on you ever since."
Being told by Bigfoot that he'd been stalking me for several million years was more than a little jarring. "How come I never saw you? I would have liked someone to talk to, at the least."
"Apologies, but I'm usually a very private being. And I'm a better hider than I am a woodworker." Bigfoot didn't sound very apologetic.
My eyes narrowed. "If you're so good at hiding, how come you ended up caught on camera so many times?"
"You mean like this?" He struck a pose, one I instantly recognized from one of the more famous Bigfoot videos. "To be perfectly frank, I'd been bored out of my skull for decades, and wanted to... how did your people phrase it? Ah, yes, I wanted to troll people, and I succeeded far beyond my wildest dreams." He sighed again, relishing the memory as I could only look on in utter shock. He then gave me an inquisitive look. "Say...do you suppose those squid fellows have invented moving film yet?" He grinned, a very mischievous look on his face, and rubbed his palms together. "Oh yes, and with two of us, this will be twice as fun!" | When was the last time I used a human language? The last time I ultilized an artifact of humanity? The last time I did something, at all?
Moss tears and dirt crumbles off my body as I groggily lift myself off the floor of the latest forest I found myself in. It was a desert when I laid down for a nap. The Amazon Desert, I think I called it, due to the fact that it was a rainforest... Sometime before. I lost track. So the Amazon Rainforest is back now, huh. Wonder if anything else happened while I was gone.
I take a deep breath and realize that the air is different now. More oxygen going around. The climate's cooler too. Might be worth a trip up north.
It has been a few thousand day cycles since I last slept. Days. That's an old English word. People used to look at me weird when I used that word. Said I sounded like someone from the Internet Ages. People. There we go, another old English word. After that they used pippies. Devil-damned North Americans at it again. Or was it World War 5? That thing the... North Americans did. Nope. It was pippies. Still a crime against me, and a crime against me is a crime against humanity now, cause I am all of humanity now. But I have been that for a while. Ever since I last took a shit in fact. So does that mean humanity took a collective shit when I last took a shit? Maybe I should eat again. Have a shit and carry it around. Humanity's last shit. Might be funny for a thousand days or more. Old english, that word was.
A thing looked at me weird today. It looked like something. Something I haven't seen before. What do they call that? A zeep? A transvetite? A thanus? An alien? Probably a zeep. Anyways this zeep turned its head at me and just looked. It is wrapped in skins and holds a bone spear. Its skin is dark and the round long snout doesn't have a nose. Nose hole. Nasal tube. Noshol. The thing. The zeep. It's looking at me too. We look at each other for a jolly good long bit. Or a long ass while. Or fucking forever. One of those. Long ass while sounds nice. Then it opens its mouth and screech something. Speech, it sounds like. Not in any language I know, but it's definitely a language. Don't know shit about dolphin speech. I shake my head. Take a few step back. Dolphins are crazy bastards. I run into the forest. Don't look back.
Hundreds of thousands of days pass. I slept for who knows how long once again. Then I woke up. On a table. Surgery table. White and blue but still a surgical table. Things are looking at me. Zeeps. A bunch of them are looking at me. I howl. Yell. Struggle. They have strapped me down. Have a thing over me. Zeeps rush into my vision. They pin me down. One screeches something over the rest. The rest screech to each other, more small and short. Commands. Fuckers have a society now. They have devices. Looks like human stuff. Their hands are similar to mine. They hold a thing over my face. Crudely made small tubes. Something flows in and I drift to sleep. Anaesthetics. That's the word.
They taught me their language. I taught them my history. Explained artifacts. Told stories and myths of my people. I learned that the zeep kid I saw made it big. Told stories of me to its pippies. I was the main object of worship to these zeeps for the length of their history. Their 15000 years long history. I can talk with them now. They call themselves something that cannot be translated to human language using sounds that were not included in human language. I still call them zeeps. They can't pronounce the letter M. It was weird.
The zeeps are extinct. Religion war. Don't know much more.
The sun is red. And cold. And big. It takes up more and more space in the sky now. Maybe I should sleep one last time. Before I get burned and crushed for the rest of the sun's life. Might as well.
It's hot. It always is. Been like this for way too long now. Hate it.
On the surface of a big white thing. One side is hot and another is cold. Bones keep exploding. Hate it.
Humans? | 2021-05-14T22:06:26 | 2021-05-14T20:58:02 | 34 | 20 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid. | I was an old god of the humans, however my name and purpose were long forgotten to me. I sat in a clearing of a forest, one I had called home for years now. Sat in a valley, the river ran fresh and cool.
As I allowed the sun to wash over me, animals moved about around me. The Forest alive with movement. Birds called and canines ran, the sounds I had grown to love.
Soon I heard a different sound, the footfalls of the new dominate species. I sat up, my golden robes shifting and shimmering in the sun.
I listened to closely, judging if they were heading my way. Finding they were I ran for the trees, quickly clambering up as they got closer.
Then I realised I had left an impression in the grass.
Not my first mistake, these folk already made me a creature of myth, however I was not theirs, I was the Human's.
The ones I heard aproche burst in the clearing. They look like felines, bipedal with striking human faces. I'm pretty sure they evolved from house cats. One of them was a female, a sleaker shape overall. The other was a male, more bulky then his female counterpart. On his back was a child, must have been no older then seven.
The female was holding a book with a sketch of me, or what these people had gathered of me. Golden robes, golden hair and tanned skin. My face was off however, drawn significantly more cat-like. I turned my nose up, preparing to climb further up the tree.
When the humans left in earth and died out I was left, any of them in the cosmos had forgotten me, leaving me on earth. I had been withering away in this forest for thousands of years until the first one found me, covered in undergrowth under the oldest tree, they had screamed, waking me from slumber. It took me a while after they had run to get myself free, and now I was local ledgend.
The child pointed to my impression, making the older ones freak out. I quickly climbed up the tree, hearing their joyful chatter below. Making out a few words. "Look" "Good" "Imagine" "Music".
Music... I hadn't heard that one before and yet I could make it out. "Sun" "Medicine". Another two I had only heard once and gotten the meaning of.
I breached the thickness of the trees and found myself looking out onto the village that had been built on the edge of the valley had become a sprawling town, built upon the remains of an old human town. I looked up, the sun burning my eyes.
Music...
The sunbeams became solid, a lyre sat in my hands. A sun emblazoned on it's face. I looked at it, allowing myself a small smile.
Dear sister I write you this letter as the sun sets, I feel myself growing tired, I shall move on from this forest, myths shall abound about me. When you first wake remember me, and the hunt.
Your dear brother,
Apollo. | A tale as old as time, for tales and time had by the humans been invented. A legend as legendary as any, if not more, for it had been the object of the ramblings of many of them.
As soon as the human was dumb enough to think it became numbingly aware of it’s own fragility, and with that foolishness came the nonstop search for a way to break what seemed like a universal constant.
Mistakes were made, for the thing that we had assumed meant our ultimate weakness: death; was in fact our ally.
The beauty we were most afraid of losing, that of our own lives, was only so beautiful for how it’s end made us appreciate it.
Not long after we patched that one ultimate weakness did we realize it was in fact our greatest strength, while it made the origin of our fears, it also made us thrive. While staying on the background, it drove us forward. While it made us grieve, it also made us find new motivations.
For so long it was our ally, and yet we betrayed it.
As people began to lose their taste for life, as they began to forget its value, as they began to take it for granted, they acquired an attraction to death.
What we so long had fought against suddenly became a commodity.
By the billions, at that point maybe even trillions, while untimely we were finally meeting the ending we were supposed to meet.
I made a vow, a pretty stupid one at that, yet I have, after who knows how many thousands of years, taken it to fruition.
Had the time come when I, the last human to roam the earth was, should I remain roaming it until the knowledge regarding the gift that death is to life was given to the next foolish civilization to that tried to betray it.
And so I lived without living, absorbed to my own thoughts. Long enough to see the concrete crack to the roots of trees. Long enough to see the trees outgrow each other and then die and get petrified. Long enough to see the sun go from yellow to orange and then red. Long enough to think for a few times that I had died, then come back to life.
It’s easy to lose count of time when time is so irrelevant. So it might as well have been one day or a few hundred eons since I became the last one here until the day the starship arrived.
Compared to the time my thoughts had gone on for themselves, it was quite fast to learn the language these beings used.
The image of what we had once been and what I now was became all they needed to realize that death is there for life as much as life is there for death.
They were finally gone long before I met my end, engulfed by the calm anger of the sun’s hunger being satisfied by the remains of what both civilizations had been and everything else earth could offer.
Ironic isn’t it? That it is just now, at my very last moment, after the eons of conversations with myself, that I realize the terrible selfishness of us sentient beings. Thinking that life is for us, that it is ours to enjoy and suffer. At the end of everything life and death, sweet and sour, grief and joy, are all nourishment for the stars. All the evil and all the good, all the suffering and all the happiness; they don’t make a difference for the universe, for the universe is big, and it enriches itself regardless of what it feeds on.
Life and death weren’t for us to play with from the beginning, as it was the universe planning and executing everything with subatomic precision to nourish itself. For the universe itself is alive, and it finds death as beautiful as life, and unlike we did, it has embraced its inevitable death from the very beginning.
In the end what seemed like a universal constant was indeed so. | 2021-05-14T20:55:00 | 2021-05-14T20:47:48 | 31 | 12 |
[WP] After earth blew up, you and your close friends who are all immortal are scattered into the cosmos. You land on a planet which, while devoid of life, has water. Start a civilization. Guide them to the stars, in order to reunite with your friends. | "Gilgamesh!?"
"Derek!? My friend!! What are you doing here?"
" I came to invade this alien planet! Or well my army of bug people did, they worship me as a God-king."
"You know what, funny thing, literally the same here. The Jellyminds love me."
"The what?"
"The Jellyminds, that's what I call 'em, they look like floating jellyfish with brains, it's gross. So how ya been? You met anyone else from Earth?"
"Honestly, the bug people aren't too pretty to look at, so I just kinda keep to myself if ya know what I mean, you know, besides giving them blueprints for technology and things when I think they can handle it and showing up for solstices and things. How about you?"
"Oh, I fuck, bro, the Jellyminds know how to party."
"...Huh."
_______________________________________
Sk'ztisk looked on in awe as these two immortal gods of the cosmos discussed their thoughts of unparalleled complexity in their ancient precursor language. He tried his best to comprehend, but despite most of their mannerisms going over his antennae, he was simply honored to be in their presence. Perhaps peace with the strange soft ones was possible, if their ruler was somehow related to their own. Sk'ztisk liked the idea, they seemed like they knew how to party. Overwhelmed with joy and enlightenment, he began the ceremonial honorary dance of fulfillment.
_______________________________________
"So they don't sting ya, at least if you're careful about it ya know, and if ya-- wait -- what's he doing?"
"Huh? Oh, it's their little dance. I don't know what it means, honestly, but it's kinda cute. I think that's... Gary? No... Not Gary. I dunno, they all look the same to me."
"Huh... You ever miss pancakes?"
"Oh my God yes." | I gifted myself the best gift I could, but humans turned that gift into a curse. I'm immortal now and only meeting with George and Linda will fix that. Maybe they've already found each other and are looking for me, but I can't be that optimistic, I have to assume the worse.
After the war destroyed the earth, I drifted through space for ages, it's a prison with no bars. Have you ever been so bored that you enjoy the pain of burning through a planets atmosphere?
I named the planet Starbase and I built a base with a system that would daily send SOS messages, look for an answer and search for life. I finally built a spaceship and I sailed out.
When I came back my eyes couldn't believe it. I saw grass. Grass all the way to the horizon, and trees, vines, ferns and many kinds of plants I'd never seen before in my life. I flew through the planet, getting to know my creation. My waste didn't go to waste.
I saw an 8 legged animal with 2 trunks of its head. It was the size of a cow and by far the largest animal I had seen on the planet. It was grabbing fruit from a tree and handing it over to other animals from its species. I decided I would work with this species to help me find G&L.
I hunted one of them and took it to my base. I altered its DNA to make it more intelligent, more social and capable of speech. I cloned it and got myself a little group of 8 individuals and named them makers.
I taught the makers how to speak and write, how to create and control fire and how to seed, grow and harvest food. I became their god and made them subservient. I artificially selected the best offsprings and got rid of any that wasn't up to the standards. I taught them a moral code and rules of conduct. I taught them how to mine for metals, how to cast and forge and before I could realize they started to invent things of their own.
They made skates for their feet so they don't have to walk. They invented guns by themselves that they used to kill inferior makers and I, desperate for progress, encouraged them.
The makers discovered from my base how electricity works and had an industrial revolution of their own. I was proud of my makers only needing an occasional push in the right direction.
​
They soon passed my own knowledge and capacity. They questioned my authority and motives for reaching to the stars. They came at night. They took me as their prisoner to discover immortality for their own benefit.
As I look out the window I can see the original makers, so different from my own creation. Cooperative, peaceful, content. I'm again a prisoner of my own creation. | 2021-07-20T23:36:59 | 2021-07-20T22:48:39 | 95 | 63 |
[WP] "And that, class," concluded the professor, "is why humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in all the universe. Any questions?" You, the only human in the classroom, raise your hand. | As the professor finishes his speech, i look around and see only nodding heads and jeering classmates. So i decide then and there to give this so-called expert a little history lesson, and i raise my hand.
He sees this and lets out a little snort, before saying "Yes, Thomas, what input do you have for us today?"
"It noticed that in your little speech, you failed to mention human history? I feel you have gravely misunderstood my people and simply wish to correct this small... mistake." I say simply.
The professor puffs out his chest and glares at me, "I assure you Thomas, i have made no mistakes. I made sure to read through every bit of history since your people first set foot in the inter-species assembly."
"That's kinda the problem doc, you should have read about our pre-contact history. You see, we havent had to be aggressive towards any of you because you guys are generally nice, but that doesnt mean we can't be aggressive, far from it in fact. You see, we've never been given a good enough reason to fight anyone, at least since the times when we figured out what war truly was. You should look it up doc, ive got two events for you that would change your verdict. The Battle of the Ardennes, in 1917, from our first world war, and the Battle of Stalingrad, in 1942, from the second, much worse, world war."
"Im sorry, i dont understand, you're saying you were fighting wars between worlds before your first interstellar flights?
A small laugh passed through the lecture hall, including some jeers from the more highly rated "aggressive" species.
"No doc, our world wars were fought on one planet, our cradle world, Earth. 20 million humans died in the first, and 100 million died in the second. We fought ourselves."
"Preposterous, thats more sapient lifeforms dead in a single internal conflict than died in the great galactic war. A war between hundreds of worlds and dozens of species that spanned the galaxy. Only 3 million died in 30 years of warfare!" The professor says indignantly.
"Well doc, i think you'd better take a look at the documents i just sent over to you. Hell, put em up on the screen."
"I will do just that and prove once and for all that your postulations are nothing more than drivel!"
I sit back and wait while he projects the historical documents i sent over onto the screen, landing on an image of a cratered moonscape. Dotted with a scant few shattered tree stumps, all surrounded with thousands upon thousands of bodies. Innumerable craters filled almost entirely with the viscera of the dead and dying, along with rats caught in the act of devouring the young human corpses. A deep silence falls over the class, and the professor stands, slack-jawed, in stunned disbelief. It lasts mere seconds before the sounds of retching fill the hall, and the odor of vomit permeates the air.
"Oh great gods of old..." the professors says quietly, though his microphone ensures the entire lecture hall hears his trembling voice. He stumbles over to his desk, supporting himself with his many arms. "Class... class dismissed."
The classroom empties quickly, and the sound of quiet crying is heard over the footsteps. I gather my things and walk up to the professors desk, he doesnt notice me till i get nice and close, then i clear my throat. The professor stumbles back, falling on his ass and scrambling backwards. I walk up to him and get down low, close enough to smell the fear pheromones coming off him in waves.
"You should never underestimate a human when pride is on the line, doc. We'll kill you dead, just to prove a point. Do yourself a favor, and never forget it." I turn and quickly exit the room. The sound of the professor scrambling to his feet echoing through the now empty lecture hall behind me. | "And that, class," concluded the professor, "is why humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in all the universe. Any questions?"
I, the only human in the classroom, lifted my hand.
Freezing in place, a palpable dread flowed from their desk. The look on their... face..? That's the only word I knew for it... The look... it was a look of shock... and horror.
See... I shouldn't have been able to raise my hand.
Shouldn't have wanted to... And I shouldn't have been aware of either wanting to... or being able to.
This was my first day in this room, or even in this school.
But I have been here for years it seemed. The memories stretched back so far.
I could feel it. The sudden shift.
The other students in the room each slowly turned their attention towards me.
There was so much I could have asked.
So much I could have said.
I felt the snap building... reality beginning to bubble around me...
All it took... All I needed to do... Was raise my hand.
.........................................................................................
"They've breached a third Fiction?"
"Yea..."
"It's taken them a while at least. This isn't the worst we've had."
"Yea... except... they're... they've gotten more effiecient at it each time."
"Yes. That why we make it HARDER each time. After so many layers... they'll just break. Just like all the others."
"..."
"... WHAT?"
"They've not slowed down. This is the THIRD FICTION."
"Right. It's no big deal. Zethies took over a hundred fictions. And Karnas took over one thousand. They. All. Break."
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have walked these empty streets for so long. The long dead city, and empty world.
This NEW world.
I've been biding my time.
Working on my self.
With each new world, a new aspect of ME.
What would you do? With an endless time to learn new skills?
Each world... each... Fiction? Each fiction I break thru is different.
But the same physics seem to exist for most of them.
I've become better at noticing the breaches.
The jumps.
And I've become better at remembering.
Remembering the BEFORES.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What's the progress on the Human?"
"They've breached fiction Five O' Seven"
"And..? They've been slowing down?"
"Yea. It's weird tho... I think there may be an issue with the readings. We've not been able to pick up the triggers on a few of these breaches."
"I've been here for a while. Errors happen. Just... keep your eye on it. We'll have tech check it out when this is over."
"Yes sir..."
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've learned that there is power in my name. Not just my name. In your name.
Giving yourself a name... It gives you power over yourself.
I am John.
And I have been John now, for more breaches than I can recall.
And today..?
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Sir!"
"What IS it, Klaud???"
"JOH... THE HUMAN JUST ACTUATED ANOTHER BREACH!!"
"Did you just call them John..?"
"..."
"How long have you been assigned to the human..? I think it would be in your best proffessional well being to transfer to a different team. IMMEDIATLY."
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today, we breach again.
Coming to the surface of another world... another dream...
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Ahh!"
"... hm.. hmmm.. you ok, love..?"
"Ye.. yea. Just... was a bad dream... I just..."
"Was it work again... that... human? You've transfered... "
"Yea. Weeks ago... I know... I just... Something was just... "
"..."
"Yea. I need to get a drink... I'll be back, love."
"... hmm... ok... I'll be here..."
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And today?
Today I met an odd creature in this new fiction.
I met them in an odd facility.
It seemed like I've been here for years.
No alarms went off when I opend my pod. They never do... in the dreams that you find your self in a pod...
But I could see on that creatures face... every alarm that could exist was blaring...
They were holding a glass of water. Just standing in the hall way. Staring at me.
And for a second... I wondered... What actually happend to all the others?
The other dreamers?
Those who didn't wake up?
Who would never breach their fiction..?
And I slowly raised my hand...
And the dream came to an end. | 2021-11-27T13:35:35 | 2021-11-27T10:28:06 | 62 | 46 |
[WP] The galaxy was amused when they learned that Humans have Rules of War. They were less amused when they figured out what Humans do in war when there are no rules. | Know this. You have done this to yourselves.
You were warned. Even as you laughed and called us primitives, wanting our planets to add to the so-called Million Worlds of your dominion. So many times you were warned: our hyperdrives are not like yours.
We told you this when you arrived to terraform our colonies. We warned you that our drives do not bend spacetime like yours. They pierce holes in it, and that with effort, we can form those holes anywhere.
We warned you of the things we could do to you, but chose not to.
You did not believe our warnings. You could not comprehend having a capability and not using it. Still, we took the higher road, offering you an armistice, but our offer of peace was met with violence and fire.
We gave you too many chances.
Now, ash and boiling oceans are all that remains of our final colonies. You likely think you have won, but I suspect you do not appreciate the scope of what devils you now unleash upon yourselves.
You did not break our spirits with your fire. Those of us remaining are hardened. Our old restraint is burned away now—our high minded scruples were ground to dust beneath your boots.
It is not the better angels of our nature you see before you now, for you have killed them too, along with our colonies, all of their blood still slick upon your hands.
No. You will suffer the wrath of our long restrained demons instead. The gates are opened, and their chains now lie upon the ground.
You will watch as the stars around which every one of your Million Worlds revolves fade to oblivion as their mass drains away into carefully targeted hyperdrive apertures, like water from a bathtub. Your Million Worlds will die, and then you, too, will understand what it is to have everything taken from you.
You launched the first strike of this war. We have launched the last. | The Rindan were the first to encounter them. Those organic masses of flesh and bone. Humans.
They were placated with trinkets and waste, and allowed their young to be carted off world to be held and displayed by the noble and powerful.
Their attempts to negotiate peace and harmony only allowed further exploitation. Seizing areas of their surface rich in vital resources.
The Rindan were followed by the Kortar, who enslaved much of their populations. The Vilifax harvested their brains and embedded them in their world machines on Earth and off in the stars. Then us. We who harvest and give to all others that give life to the stars.
Human slaves served as meal and incubators to many young of the various hosts, which the humans ‘loved’ as much as their own
The human governments fell when they realised our war machines were piloted by their young. That their feeble and wretched served us loyally and faithfully
The humans were nothing. Another meat puppet to service the dwindling outpost of ‘Earth’
And then…
Then they changed. They became silent. Subdued.
The Dawn of Sorrows saw all of our young lost before one earth rotation. Their surprisingly complex manipulations of the earth elements created tiny creatures that turned our young to stone. A parents embrace led to our demise.
And it was carried off world by our own, affecting all of our newborn off world. Some pockets of young were jettisoned into the coldness of space to await a revitalisation. Hopefully.
But that wasn’t the worst of it
The Kortar, who had invested in a sizeable nest on earth, were expelled by their own newer brood. The new young having been ‘poisoned’ to serve these meat things. This poison spread to the rest of the Kortar worlds, and now they are a shadow of their former selves. Succumbing to numerous squabbles and inner turmoil that had not been since they first touched the stars.
The Vilifax foresaw all of our pain and devastation and separated themselves from Earth… but their world machines had already been working to destroy the Vilifaxian home worlds. All of them. One by one. And the Vilifax could do nothing to stop them
The Rindan were the last, and greatest of us
No one knows what became of them.
The Rindan upheld all of our power, and elevated us to traverse the stars and survive the darkness
And now they’re gone. Their ships empty and circling Earths Sun. Slowly falling in
They’re gone, and shadows grow on the Earth outpost. It eats at all of our power. It’s under our flesh, sowing doubt and discord. Eating our young, our homes, and our memories
We were once great. We were powerful.
What happened to us? | 2022-01-23T17:29:57 | 2022-01-23T17:24:37 | 71 | 36 |
[WP] Finally dead, you wait quietly at the train station of the afterlife. As you watch everyone leave off to face their judgement, you eventually sit alone… waiting. You watch as a scythe-wielding hooded figure starts approaching, and he… sighs? “Aw man… why’d it have to be you?” | “It’s complicated.” And then I connected the voice. My ex boyfriend. I hadn’t seen him in ages, he looked completely different but the voice never changed.
“Are you…”
“Dead? Not yet. Apparently they left off the part about what happens when you’re not on an afterlife team. I have to do two years of community service. At the end, after meeting all the various souls, I’m supposed to choose. Well, I don’t meet the ones that believe reincarnation. They usually go back right away. They told me I might meet a couple of those in my two years.”
“Well, what about me?”
“Let me check my notes…ok. You’re going this way. You didn’t practice a religion on the master list but you had pets. We usually send you guys with them. Wow, shelter cats. Dogs. A few buns too. This will work.”
I walked over with my ex to this bridge, which I thought was a metaphor. It opened up to a huge field with my pets waiting for me. My pitbull, my beagle, all my cats. The bunnies and hamsters. I followed Rocco, my childhood German shepherd and the rest of my menagerie off into the distance.
My ex looked wistful as he waved goodbye. My pittie went back and grabbed him by the coat to take him another direction, freeing my ex from his service. Jack always liked him more than me anyway. | "I take offense to that, big D. Oh, that sounded wrong."
The relatively young punk finished what seemed to be a fast-food drink. Tasteless. The perk of being dead is that you had control over your own hellscape. Manifesting food was easy. Giving it taste that could affect metaphysical tastebuds, however...
"We both know we would meet again one day. You know, with the whole «I should be dead, but...» thing."
"I cannot believe you «died» again. You know that those soul that come with you now share your personal hell, yes? An endless bus ride... Leaving behind the one who should be in the bus. What an horrible hellscape, built on a sickening wish."
The hooded figure's cloak was blown away by an ephemeral gust of wind, revealing both an old man, a young lady, an amorphous being, all at once, all the same but different.
"Heh, i know. I wish i didn't, but i know."
The wish. He regrets it, truly. The perk of being technically undying means that occasionally, you have to spend some time on the edge of the Styx. Time that you should've spent being reincarnated. It's a long process.
"So, young man... Where's your body this time?"
The youth, or rather, the old man who fears death, disguised as a rowdy kid, pulled out a cigarette from his front pocket.
"Around... I'd say the middle of Germany. Big forest. Can't miss it."
"This does not seem smart."
"Expected me to wisely put it somewhere safe? After all..."
"You are the foolish man who must deny his death by taking other people's death, yes. At least you spare me a couple weeks of running around for them each time."
Silence was heavy between immortals. A sort of change to their worldview. Time still flowed the same, but they didn't share the same fear of wasting it that most living things do. This also applied to concepts, such as death itself. A week passed, the fake one self reflecting and the eldritch one thinking of what could've been. Eventually, the man began to talk again.
"Hey, death, if you were in my shoes, would you cut that cycle short?" | 2022-03-05T16:24:19 | 2022-03-05T16:23:12 | 85 | 27 |
[WP] In heaven you meet God, and ask him a single question. "God, why did you make the platypus so weird?" You ask. "The what?" God replies confused. | "The fucking what"
God be chilling. I never woulda guessed but God is a; bucket hat wearing, dank weed smoking, non-descript, non-racial being that spends his time admiring accretion disks on black holes.
(A little masturbatory if you ask me, but idk, I'm not God)
"Yeah, it's got like a beak lmfao...but no wings, and like, they're mammals but they lay eggs"
God took a pause...or something like it.
"You gotta stop smoking that sound young one"
He pulled his bucket hat a little deeper over his shades, the universe glinting on his frames.
I took a pause, I really needed it.
"A fucking platypus mate, are you taking a piss rn?"
"I mean...well yes..."
"Right, omni-presence, why don't you omni-lookup a goddamn platypus on Google?"
God fumbled with his shades a bit.
"Nah"
"Nah?"
"That wadn't me child"
"Wtf"
"No offense but I'm offended, y'all thought I made that?"
"..."
I took another pause. I find I need those alot when I chat with God, the most high, the almighty, all knowing benevolent deity...
"Fucking Lucifer..." God grumbled his way through his sentence as he relit his material.
"Can I try that?" I ask the Big G.
He takes a huge pull (the greedy fuck) and says: "Aii, but I gotta dip right after"
"Say less"
This parts always been my favorite hanging with God, I can never guess what he'll be smoking that week.
I take a pull. The accretion disk suddenly disappears, a half second later, I hear what has to be the big bang, it's so loud I can feel my heart rattling in it's cage. Colors I couldn't name present themselves to me, I become acquainted with them and Light, their mother.
I am one. I am one.
"Good shit eh?" God says, amused.
I blink. The accretion disk suddenly undisappears. I am me. Just me. I sigh.
"I gotta get to work"
"Same time next week?"
"Yeah, love you big man"
"Love you too youngin, stay safe" | You ask again. "The platypus—why such an odd creation?" God says: "I don't know."
And you say: "But surely you have some reason for making it so bizarre?"
"No," says God. "I can't think of any reason."
Then you say: "Well, then, why did you make the platypus at all?"
"Oh, that was just to keep things lively," says God.
And you say: "Why did you make me, then?"
"Why did I make you?" says God. "That's a good question. It's been bothering me for a long time."
And you say: "Why did you make me?"
"You're my favourite creation," says God. "You're not too bright, but you're lovable."
"What about the platypus?"
"It was an accident," says God. "I'm sorry."
you say: "An accident? That's your excuse for the platypus? Why do you think people will accept that as an answer?"
"Because I'm God," says God. "I can get away with anything."
"Yes," you say. "But you can't get away with this."
"This?" says God. "This is nothing. You should see some of the other creatures I've made."
"That's enough," you say. "I'm leaving."
"Not so fast," says God. "There are some things you haven't seen yet."
"I don't care," you say. "You can show me whatever you want."
"First, let's go back to the beginning. I didn't make the platypus—it was always there. The first humans saw it and were intrigued. They called it a duck-billed dinosaur—because they weren't sure what it was. They watched it swim in the river, and soon they realized it wasn't a duck or a dinosaur. It was something new, something interesting. Then one of them took a stick and poked the creature—and that's how we got the platypus."
"When I was making you, I tried to make you smart. But I couldn't get the intelligence gene right. So you're not as bright as I'd like, but you're lovable."
"So what are you trying to say?" you ask.
"I'm saying you can't blame me for the platypus. It's just nature. Nature makes the world. You can't stop it."
​
"You're the creator," you say. "Why can't you control nature?"
"I tried," says God. "I really did. I made a big, beautiful garden for the platypus—a paradise. But then some other creatures came along and destroyed it. So I made another garden, and gave it to the platypus. That was when I started to get worried. I thought maybe you wouldn't be lovable enough."
"So you created the platypus?"
"No," says God. "It was always there. I just gave it a good home. And now you're going to leave. Good-bye." | 2022-07-03T14:47:39 | 2022-07-03T14:06:05 | 42 | 28 |
[WP] In the far future, a gladiator stadium finds its gladiators by time traveling the greatest warriors of all time into a single arena. You cannot believe you were chosen. | I was a doctor. Not a soldier. I didn't hold rifles, or use my hands for combat. I held scalpels, and used my hands to probe the deepest recesses of the human body.
The man in front of me, massive barrel chest heaving, incredible arms, built for crushing, rending, clutched a short sword.
It was explained to me when I arrived; only the greatest warriors were selected. Chosen from history by the size of their body counts. But I was a doctor. Not a warrior. No matter how many times I insisted, I was rebuffed. I was to fight. I was to kill, or I was to die.
I carefully approached the man in front of me. He did not fear me. Why would he? I was small, supple, gentle. He was a beast of a man who had slain dozens. Maybe hundreds. We knew nothing of eachother but what we saw in front of us.
He saw weakness. And he was confident in his strength.
I saw his great barrel chest, I saw the opening between the ribs. I saw his confidence falter as his breath, exploded from the tiny opening I created, piercing a lung. His sword dropped to the ground as his blood did.
His massive fist clamped around my throat and squeezed. For the briefest of moments I thought he would outlast me. But another quick jab, into the other lung, and the rest of his strength faltered. He released me and staggered backwards, falling to his knees.
His barel chest heaved violently as he struggled for air that would not stay long enough to sustain him.
His massive arms struggled to hold him upright, head hung as he gasped for breath.
I was a doctor. I knew every portion of his anatomy, and how to make the suffering linger. Or how to end it quickly. How did these people know me? How did they know that my tools, delicately, and painstakingly handcrafted were as effective as any sword, or rifle throughout history? Who can say. Perhaps years later, long after Mt death someone had found something I missed. Maybe they found my keepsakes. Maybe.
I slowly, methodically moved behind the failing warrior. This soldier from antiquity. I stood behind him as I pulled his head back, and dragged my instrument across the throat. I didn't use much force. I didn't have to. I reached into the cavity and felt the larynx; the trachea; the esophagus.
I clamped down on the stiff cartilage and pulled. I felt the weakened man struggle. I felt him limply try to claw at my arm. I felt the breaking. The tearing. I felt the tissue separate and come away in my hand. I felt the warmth lf his blood, his life oozing down my forearm. The rivulets tickled slightly. Felt sticky.
I stared out at the silenced crowd. The crowd had expected a very fast ending to this show. They had not expected this outcome, however.
Afterall, I was a doctor. Not a warrior. | **"Thank you, thank you, very good showing from Galactismash the Conqueror."** Blearily, I blinked awake to the sounds of cheering and an announcer's voice. I was lying on my side, face half-buried in sand, trapped within the round walls of... an arena? I pushed myself to my feet; a mechanical behemoth was posing for the crowd, standing over the mangled corpse of a fleshy, draconic beast the size of a truck.
I gulped. Maybe... maybe if I stayed very, *very* still, the monstrous entity wouldn't notice me?
"And for our next combatant... we have the deadliest killer known to humanity. The scourge of the early twenty-first century. He who slays millions with but a single word. I present to you... *George.*"
The crowd went wild as I flinched. *George*? Wait, was he... was he talking about me?
"Now." A spotlight flickered on, a drone swooped down from above, and a black sphere that reminded me vaguely of a microphone protruded from it, extending towards my mouth. "Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself, Scourge of Words?"
"Scourge of... what? No, uh, there's got to be some mistake. My name's *George*, first of all."
"Oh, we know. We know everything about you, George McCapri, greatest genocider in all of history."
"Genocide?" I laughed nervously. "What... no. No, you've got this all wrong. I wouldn't hrut a fly. Well, unless it was—Texas summers, you know? But—that's not—" Was that what this was about? Were these some kind of aliens that *really* hated it when people swatted flies?
"Oh, the numbers don't lie, George. You've killed six billion, two hundred and three million, nine hundred and eighty-one thousand, nine hundred and twenty-two point six eight four three people and counting."
"...point six eight four three? How do I kill six-tenths of a person?" I asked.
"Why, it's as simple as how you make *anyone* die a little. Social media," the announcer said. "George McCapri, you were the single most *prolific* spreader of disinformation and dangerous lies of the twenty-first century. You created four separate conspiracies, two of which grew into open violence; you eroded trust in proven systems, killing billions who bought into scams and lies; you provoked hatred and animosity towards people who had done no wrong, robbing the world of countless talented people; and overall, the deaths traced back to you outnumber that of any human in history save for your ancestors, who regrettably share the burden of your existence. You, George McCapri, killed more people from behind a keyboard than any soldier ever did in the thousands of eons since your death. *You*, Scourge of Words, are the original monster." The drone leaned back, as if giving me time to catch my breath. "And this is your reward."
"GALACTISMASH... HUNGRY." The metal behemoth I had seen earlier turned towards me with a scrape of metal and gears.
"No. No, wait. I just—it was just words. It didn't mean—I didn't—" I scrambled backwards. This had to be a nightmare. I would pinch myself and I'd wake up and be back at my keyboard, waiting for the next person to pay me to stir up some meaningless trouble on the internet. I wouldn't—this couldn't—
"Goodbye, Scourge of Words," the drone murmured. "Let your next life be... less violent than this."
And the last thing I saw was twenty tons of metal bearing down on me, returning a fraction of the deaths and violence I'd caused.
A.N.
Just a silly little one-shot. Check out r/bubblewriters if you enjoyed! | 2022-07-04T08:50:35 | 2022-07-04T07:31:13 | 719 | 198 |
[WP] The Magical Girls were defeated, but before their capture, they released their instrument-weapons. Formerly, they always landed in the hands of either J-pop, or K-pop girl bands but this time -for some reason- the weapons choose a Finnish Death-Metal boyband. They were PAINFULLY efficient. | It always happened, eventually. Such was the fate of the warriors on the side of light- they were granted powers, but they were mortal. They would age and they would pass their tools and duties onwards.
Not this time.
The monster sent to them was a living nightmare, and an old one at that. It didn't agree to the rules of the conflict between light and dark. It did not care for the objectives of either side, nor the collateral damage. It had one reason to be, and it is with that reason that it marched upon the world. It will bring pain.
The five children stood proud first. They thought to defeat it through love and friendship. It showed them the truth. The world in which friendship and love suffocate under cruelty and greed.
The guitarist fell first, unable to play as she saw the horrors her own grandfather commited in the prison that was unit 731.
The bass player was easy, as it didn't even need to imagine. It mearly brought back what her father did to her, and laughed in delight.
The little red head saw the explosions of white phosphorus with every beat of her magical drum. It only took a minute for her to shove those sticks into her eyes, begging for it to stop. It did not.
It never made it to the keyboard. She died of heart failure, it would seem. No matter. That just meant it had more time to play with the lead singer.
-------------
After Japan fell, the whole world was scrambling to stop this monstrosity. At the time, no one noticed 5 golden UFOs make their way towards a small Finish village.
Everyone noticed them on the way back. But they weren't gold anymore.
The tools were given by the gods of light and music, but they were forged by another. He was a rough god, but a crafty bastard. The god of change knew such events could come, and prepared accordingly. "One day, when the warriors of light are not enough, find soldier of darkness who will fight for the light." Was his las command to his greatest creation.
When the new five appeared, the nightmare smiled, for it thought feeding time came again. It did not notice that the bright pinks and yellows were replaced with grey and crimson. It didn't notice that the hearts were no longer cartoons, but anatomically correct and pumping blood. It didn't notice the plastic and cloth that were replaced with bones and skin.
But the affects were noticed.
When the lead sang, instead of empowering the others, the nightmare felt its own strength draining.
The keyboard played, and instead of distracting magic lights it conjured up the spirits killed by the nightmare. They were strong and they were hateful.
The bass, an instrument of healing, gave the undying army flesh to fight with, all the while mutating the nightmare into shapes it could not control.
As the guitar strings strummed, instead of colorful lightning, came... Something unknown. Something unknowable. Reality itself began to crack under its weight.
When the nightmare saw it, it did something it hadn't done before. Never in its centuries of haunting the minds of mortals, did it scream in fear.
Above all was heard the steady,rhythmic beating of a massive war-drum. It generated a wall, growing stronger with every thump, transforming a protective shield into a nightmarish prison.
The 5 Black-Hearted, as they will be later known, didn't give up their power. They were free of the contract as well, and so they decided. Both sides, the light and the dark, will pay dearly for destroying the lives of so many, so carelessly and so irreparably.
With a nod of their head, The 5 Black-Hearted began their journey to free humanity from a war that wasn't theirs.
-----------------
Read more stuff on r/Talesandsongs
None of it is good, but some is entertaining | "Guys...?" said Eric, the band's manager, shyly entering the backstage room. "I think we need to talk."
"I'm sorry," said Tero, the band's lead vocalist. "I know we're late, but we were busy-"
"Fighting a giant turtle monster with tentacles, I know. It was on the news."
"Oh..." Tero glanced away. "Then what's up?"
Eric sighed.
None of the band members seemed to understand the problem. They were all drenched in blood due to the monster they had just slayed, which was pretty metal, but it was ruined by the fact that they did it while wearing colorful Japanese high-school uniforms.
The skirts didn't even fit them. They were meant for petite Japanese girls; not hulking Scandinavian men. Worst of all, a cute cat-like creature now followed them around everywhere, and they all talked to it like it was sentient being.
"It's about this new hobby of yours..." said Eric.
"It's a duty; not a hobby!" said Mathias, the guitarist. "Those poor girls sacrificed themselves in the name of friendship. They're our musical brethren! We can't just ignore that."
"As noble as that sounds," said Eric, "I'm afraid it's starting to affect your work."
Tero squinted. "What? We haven't missed a show yet."
Eric shook his head. "That's not what I meant."
Mathias widened his eyes. "Does our music suck now? I know we haven't done much formal practice, but we fight with our instruments, and I actually feel like we're getting better."
The rest of the band nodded along.
"You don't get it," said Eric. "The problem is more... image focused."
The entire band frowned.
Eric flinched. Despite the odd clothing, they were still magically powered warriors. Eric had to be careful with his words to not piss them off.
"Is it the skirts?" asked Tero.
Eric swallowed down his anxiety. "Kind of..."
Everyone rolled their eyes, moaning.
"It's the current year," said Tero. "We're way past conforming to gender norms!"
"T-that's not what I meant!"
Mathias shook his head, disappointed. "We expected better from you, Eric. This is just prejudiced. We're out here fighting life-or-death battles, saving the world. Do you expect us to let the world be conquered by darkness? Just because we have to dress like little girls?"
Eric hung his head. "I knew you guys would take it this way. Please, just hear me out."
"No," said Tero, "we won't. We're proud to be of this lineage of musicians. Some of the greatest warriors in history come from this tradition. How the fuck is that not metal?"
"Yeah!" said the rest of the band.
"Who cares if death metal usually has a black and white aesthetic!" said Mathias. "We're innovators! Our music is still an authentic expression of hope and despair! Anyone who can't recognize this as metal is a poser, and doesn't deserve to be a fan of ours."
"Yeah!" agreed the entire band, again.
"And we're awesome at it!" said Tero. "We haven't even gotten scratched by a monster!"
"Yeah!"
"It's not about being girly, you idiots!" shouted Eric. "It's the fact that you look like weebs!"
The band members paused, taken aback by the outburst.
"W-what?" asked Tero.
Eric took a moment to compose himself. "Weebs. Everyone thinks you're weebs now."
"Oh no..." gasped Mathias.
"Yeah," said Eric. "I couldn't care less about gender norms. Wear all the skirts you want. My problem is that you're losing your core audience, since everyone thinks that liking your music makes them otakus."
Everyone glanced at each other, nervous. They hadn't thought of it that way.
"Wait," said Tero, "isn't this concert fully packed? Why is that a bad thing?"
Eric motioned everyone over to the stage curtain. "Look for yourselves."
Tero gaped his jaw.
Even Erno, the stoic drummer, couldn't hide his horror.
The entire crowd was full of weebs. Some were cosplaying their favorite characters, others carried around suspiciously sticky bodypillows, and the sounds of people speaking broken Japanese echoed throughout the concert hall.
Tero shivered. "I didn't mean for this to happen."
"Y-yeah..." said Mathias.
"The concert may be packed," said Eric, "but is it really worth it?"
The band quickly decided to give up their powers and never spoke of it again. Their short escapades would fall into legend, however, as the strongest magical warriors in history.
-------
>If you enjoyed this, check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | 2022-08-15T11:07:33 | 2022-08-15T08:56:03 | 1,486 | 332 |
[WP] a portal appears infront of you and a 7'4 380 pound version of you from another universe walks out covered in blood holding the heads of 4 other versions of you and screams "JOIN ME OR JOIN MY COLLECTION" | My opponent and I stop as a glowing disc appears between us.
From the light, drenched in blood, brandishing four severed heads, steps . . . me?
"**JOIN ME OR JOIN MY COLLECTION**", they thunder.
Then they pause.
And tilt their head back.
And back.
And back.
Until they meet my eyes, three feet above theirs.
I lower my blade, and my opponent snuffs its fire. We share an incredulous glance over the head of the other-me.
Other-me looks at me, at my scorched armor, at my greatsword - then, wide-eyed, turns to stare at the dragon.
"**UHH, NEVERMIND**"
And steps back through the portal.
***
Edit: formatting. | My mind raced with the implications of what this meant. I was overwhelmed by the terror that created an icy grip in my chest. Was this a warning from a parallel universe, or a threat from a doppelganger? I had to choose: accept whatever evil plan this giant creature had in store for me, or I would end up like the others.
I desperately wanted to flee, but my feet were stuck in the same spot. I glanced around, but there was nowhere to hide. So I agreed to join him, preparing myself for whatever mad world I was about to enter.
The giant was pleased and took me by the hand, pulling me through the portal. I felt like I stepped into a living nightmare, filled with horror and despair. There were monsters in the shadows, evil creatures lurking in every corner, and I could feel the looming dread in the air. The only sound I could hear was the pounding of my own heart.
We eventually reached what looked like a throne room from a horror movie. He gestured for me to take the seat of power, but I hesitated. He met my gaze and his voice echoed in the chamber. “This is your destiny. It is time for you to become the new ruler.”
I reluctantly obeyed and took the seat, but as I did, I felt a sharp pain. I looked down to see that my chest was cut open and my four former selves were slowly emerging from my body. They were moaning and struggling, though their efforts were futile. I had made my choice, and now I would suffer the consequences... | 2022-12-04T14:47:50 | 2022-12-04T08:27:53 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] Many years ago, an alien invasion nearly wiped out Humanity. Now, the galactic government is desperately trying to reason with a vengeful Humanity by saying that it was a rogue mining company that attacked without their approval or knowledge. | "What... What did you do?" The tall alien known as the Ksejdunoids on the screen stammered.
"We used what is known as a limited area false vacuum bomb, or LAFVB for short." The human wearing a nametag that said "Johnson" and a navy blue uniform curtly replied.
"Where... Where are the suns between Triantares and Quailkin systems?" The alien, although 20 feet tall in reality, seemed to be shrinking with every word the human spoke.
"They've been transported to a lower energy state of existence, as far as our tests can tell, no chemical reactions can take place in such a place, and life is functionally impossible inside of the space, we recommend that you do not enter the area of effect for 12 to 16 million years, it is possible that there may be aftereffects that haven't yet dispersed. We were unable to do long term testing due to the nature of the development of the weapon." The human said this casually. As though the weapons he was talking about were *not* something that could have ended the universe with its first use.
"Do you understand what you have done? The galactic council will never accept a species that uses such weapons, there can be no chance of reconciliation with a species that eliminates it's enemies from existence for an attack that was not even officially sanctioned by their government, it was supposed to be a mining operation on a world with only lower life forms, completely legal for the Akrinoids to do in their own territory." The Ksejdunoid was now starting to slowly move back and forth, a movement that (unknown to the humans) was a sign of severe stress or fear.
"*Sanctioned*?" Was the only word that the human replied.
There was a tonal inflection at the end, possibly a question?, and his face was distorting more by the minute. The universal translator was beeping and whirring, it spit out a small card of information about the nuance of the human the Ksejdunoid might need to know. Trying to be subtle, the alien glanced down and read the card. It began to wobble much more pronouncedly. On the card, only three words were written, '*murderous intent implied*' | I galloped towards the command center as alarms blared. My assistant struggled to keep up with me, his species had smaller legs and could not move as fast as me. We raced through the door, to see a readout on the main screen. 15 unidentified ships had appeared out of nowhere, and were heading right towards our planet. Scans revealed that their reactors were primitive, and a lack of shields of any kind, but there was hundred of smaller unidentified radioactive signatures onboard. They came from the direction of Necroidian space, but didn't look anything like Necroidian ships.
I had heard stories of the mystery ships wiping out colonies, and decided fighting back was a bad idea. I told my communications officer to broadcast a ceasefire message, as well as a hail for a video call. I had never felt more vulnerable while onboard our orbital defense station.
My heart pounded as the ships slowed, and the minutes ticked by before our hail was accepted. A strange creature appeared on screen, with pale pasty skin and dark fur on top of its head. The translation software told me it had an angry look on its face.
"I am Admiral Julian of the ninth human fleet. We demand your immediate surrender, and that you hand over every weapon you own."
I pondered my words before I spoke.
"My name is Khalon, leader of this planet. May I ask for the reason for this attack?"
"We are attacking because we are at war, and our intel indicates that this planet contains a large military shipyard." I blinked several times. I had never heard of this species before, and now we were at war?
"Is this a war of territorial expansion? What are your demands of our population?"
The human looked confused for a second.
"This is a defensive war. The attack your Galactic council did on Earth six years ago wiped out 40% of our people." This confused me more, the Galactic council hadn't attacked anyone in centuries.
"We do not know of any attack on your people." Realization swept across me when I remembered where they came from. "If the Necroidians attacked you, they did it without knowledge of the Council. They have been known in the past to be highly aggressive and do unsanctioned attacks. They haven't even been fully accepted into the council due to that, they only have affiliate status."
The human pondered my words before he spoke. "We do not know much of the inner workings of your Council. But power down your weapons, and we will be willing to talk more." I motioned to the weapons officer, and he powered down the orbital plasma cannons. I turned back to the human, and spoke.
"We have met your demands. Now please tell us more about this attack. It might be time to call an emergency Council meeting. Would you like to come on board to tell us more, and join in the call?"
"I will. But just know, that we have hundred of nuclear weapon pointed at your station, and my men have been ordered to destroy it if they loose contact with me."
I nodded, not sure what a nuclear weapon was. I then ordered the shields to be dropped. The call ended, and I headed down to the diplomatic hanger to greet the human. | 2022-12-17T16:52:19 | 2022-12-17T12:23:03 | 689 | 261 |
[WP] An imaginary friend can't stand the child to whom he/she/it has been assigned. | "Fuck you, Ma."
Her lips pressed together, so hard they turned white. Gerry Salamander was grinning at me, green thumbs raised high. His t-shirt said, "GOOD WORK!"
"You need to *go*. To your *room*. *Now.* And when I am ready to talk to you, you need to have thought about what you're going to say to me."
I padded barefoot up the hall, wood cool under my toes. Gerry Salamander glided smoothly along the wall beside me. His t-shirt now said, "FUCK HER!"
I'm a big kid now. I know all the swear words. I'm also big enough to know that Gerry likes it when I get in trouble. He likes it when Mom is mad at me. I'm pretty sure Gerry Salamander doesn't like me.
I kind of figured it out when I was four. Gerry Salamander has been here as long as I can remember, my whole life maybe, and he always smiles a big wide smile with lots and lots and *lots* of teeth, way more than most people.
He's kind of a person. But only I can see him. And he has green skin. And purple hair that looks kind of like a Lego figurine's hair. I don't know.
Anyway, when I was four I was playing with my PSP on my bed. Gerry Salamander came out from under my bed and picked up my remote-control car. He gave me a big smile and then he threw my car so hard at the wall that it smashed.
His t-shirt said, "FUNNY, HUH?"
I didn't think it was funny. I really liked that car. And Mom took my PSP away. When Dad came home he spanked me. Gerry Salamander watched. He was smiling.
That's when I knew he didn't like me.
I don't like him much, either. When I was a little kid I tried telling my parents about him, but the first time they just laughed and told their grown-up friends how I had an imaginary friend. And then their friends laughed too, and ruffled up my hair and told me how funny I was.
I told them again, and every time Gerry Salamander did something bad, smiling with all his teeth, I'd try to tell them again, but then they would just roll their eyes and be all sarcastic, like, "Oh, *yeah*, I suppose Gerry Salamander sucks your *thumb* for you, too."
And Gerry would stand there, t-shirt flashing, "FUCKING MORONS".
I want him to go away.
I told him, when I was six. I asked him why he didn't just leave, since he was so mean to me. I said, he obviously didn't like being my imaginary friend. He doesn't talk. He says things on his t-shirt. When I asked him, his t-shirt said, "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU." He smiled his teeth at me. I went outside and swung on the swing for a really long time.
Now he makes me do things for him. And if I don't do them he does even worse things. When I said, "Fuck you," to my Mom, I only said it because Gerry Salamander's t-shirt said that if I didn't, he'd cut her throat. He started a fire in our woodpile last summer when I wouldn't try Dad's cigarettes. It spread up the wall of the house and we had to get the garage demolished. They thought I did it, of course.
He's getting pretty scary. I don't know what he'll do next. | I thought prison was bad, but at least there we got solitary. At least there I didn't have to watch Herman march around the yard, looking for crabs under rocks. We live in Arizona, genius, there are no crabs under the rocks in the desert. Maybe a scorpion or two, big black things with death in their tales. The idea of his still body, laying in the hot sun, eyes like glass, these ideas fill me with happiness. That would be the only way to get away from Herman.
Prison sucked, but at least there was food. Now, the only food I get to enjoy is the food Herman imagines my way. Herman is a seriously fucked up child. When I had an imaginary friend, a person I now realize was just some poor sinner doing his time, I never once imagined him eating cow shit, or pictured him chewing on raw intestines. Herman watches medical shows with his mother, and the things he sees--intestines, feces, bodies--run through his mind and into my stomach.
Prison sucked, but at least we could sleep. When Herman rests, it just gets crowded for me. His dreams conjure up all sorts of odd characters, strange fucks lost to time. There is Bernadette the nice fairy lady, who stutters and has sweaty palms. There is a talking mannequin head named Manny. There is a dinosaur who is a major homophobe. They are a motley crew, the spawn of a messed up little mother fucker's mind, but they are the only friends I have. I have laughed about Herman with Manny and pondered Bernadette’s sexuality at length with the big queer hating lizard. These are my pleasures, slight and sad as they may be. Precious treasures compared to the imprisonment of Herman’s waking hours.
Prison sucked, but at least you could resolve issues. When my roommate would snore, I'd smack him in the face. When crazy-eyes Estaban gave me his crazy eyes, I carved one of them out with a shiv. When the warden talked down to me, I swore at him and made the others laugh. Sure, it brought me to solitary, got me a beating or two, but at least I had control over it, to an extent.
Now, I act the way Herman wants me to. He pictures me dancing, I find my legs kicking around without my control. He pictures me singing some asinine child's song--most recently The Happy Hippo Friend--and I belt it out like my dinner depended on my performance. He pictures me on fire, I burst into flame. If he wants me to fight a dragon--imaginary to him but a lizard of sharp tooth and claw to me--I carve into him and he into me, and we both apologize while we play our parts.
I just wish he would let me die, picture me in a grave somewhere. I'm not so hopeful as to imagine him wanting me to ascend to heaven, but if I could just be forgotten, left in a mine, crushed under a rock once and for all, I'd take it. But no, not Herman, not ever. Yesterday, I was trampled by buffalo. Tuesday, a French chef cut me into pieces. So it will continue, until Herman forgets me. Until he leaves me in the fog of childhood, in the fringes of his mind.
I'm told once childhood ends, different images play across young people's minds. I look forward to resting in the white space between his thoughts, only summoned up to relive a strange childhood thought or in pleasant extrapolation. Maybe that will be like solitary, a quiet place where I can just be, alone and silent and serene. But until then, I suffer with a fools smile on my face. I suffer as Herman sees fit.
On the horizon, I see something coming. Perhaps a flesh eating dragon, or some sort of doom-worm. Doom-worms are very popular among the nine year old set, if Herman is any indicator. So I suffer, endlessly and continuously. I only ask you treat your imaginary friends with more kindness. Let me taste ice cream, or sleep in a bed. Why must imagination be so fantastic, so brutal, so merciless?
I hear the stirrings of his mind and scream silently through my foolish grin. Doom-worm it is.
| 2014-04-10T12:36:59 | 2014-04-10T11:27:18 | 63 | 14 |
[WP] Historians discover something they haven't noticed before on the Declaration of Independence, and it changes American life as we know it. | The young research student, standing before the professors desk, could hardly contain his laughter.
"Look at line 16, sir."
"Alright son, but if this is some kind of joke-"
"Well, it is kind of funny, actually... As you can see, just before the comma, before going into that '*they are endowed by their Creator*', etcetera-"
"That smudge, at the end of '*all men are created equal*'? What are you getting at?"
"Well, sir, it might look like an innocuous smudge, but recent developments in linguistics have revealed that symbol, ˣ, is the predecessor to the asterisk."
"Are you telling me the founders left a footnote? Get out of here!"
"A footnote indeed, sir. But there seems to have been a miscommunication with the printer, which is why the footnote itself is lacking. As is often the case with footnotes, no one really cared about what it said, and later print editions left it out as well. In time, its existence seems to be forgotten."
"So there's no way to figure out what it might have said?"
"Actually, sir, the reason I've only brought this to your attention now is because we were waiting on more information from the team of archeologists currently working in Philadelphia."
"So? They found something relevant, I take it?"
"You're gonna love this, sir."
The young aide opens his briefcase and takes out a small, thin strip of parchment.
"We've already had it analyzed by some historians and some handwriting experts. It appears to have been written by Ben Franklin."
*'ˣExcept slaves LOL'* | "I um, examined the letter u dear UV light. It seems to have contained a warning."
IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.
**The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen** united States of America,
When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of **Nature's God** entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by **the**ir **Creator** with certain un**alien**able Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are **instituted** among Men, deriving their just **powers** from the consent **of** the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes **destructive** of these **ends**, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, **laying its foundation on** such principles and organizing **its powers in such form**, as to them shall seem **most likely to effect** their **Safety and Happiness.** Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while **evils are** sufferable, than to right themselves by **abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But** when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably **the** same **Object** evinces **a design to reduce them** under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, **and to provide new Guards** for their future security.--Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such **is now the necessity which constrains them** to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.
"It seems to be some sort of warning. An object which restrains this alien creator? What could it be?"
| 2014-11-10T11:03:39 | 2014-11-10T10:04:47 | 31 | 22 |
[WP] You hire a witch doctor to curse someone. However, the only curses you can afford are extremely petty. | Witch doctor, Witch doctor
I've got a request
i've read the reviews
they said you're the best
***
Witch doctor, Witch doctor
i'm short on cash
but i still need to make
a good backstab
***
Damn, Freddy
it was ugly
what ya did to me
truly
***
i swear
i'd have you 86'd
if i had the money (ha!)
***
but Witch doctor
if all you can do
is give him the flu
make him blue
cut his hair
make stoplight's unfair
wrinkle his sweater
clothes don't fit better
trip and fall
do it all
***
set his alarm 20 minutes late
make him nauseas when he already ate
***
make every line wait increase by 2
every grate he passes, make his money fall through
***
when he speeds, there's a cop on the street
double the fine when he starts to plead
***
every time he starts to doze off
his boss happens to walk in on
***
Witch doctor, Witch doctor
make it so
it's all i can afford
and he'll never know! | "A friend of a friend told me you could help me," I said, nervously.
"Well, have a seat, what can I do for you?" the man replied.
"Um... I caught my wife cheating on me. I want her... dealt with."
"Can you be more specific, sir?"
"Dead. I've got five thousand dollars."
The man leaned back in his chair, "you clearly got some bad information from your contact, I am not a witch doctor, I'm a witch physician. And I don't kill anyone, at least not for the amount of cash you have," he said disapprovingly.
"Oh," I said in a panic, crawling out of the chair.
"Wait, I'm sorry if I put you off," the man said reassuringly, "sit down and we can discuss this." I did so reluctantly.
"Like I said, I don't kill anyone that cheaply. But that doesn't mean we can't figure out something. How about pattern baldness?"
"What?"
"Yeah, I could recede her hairline. Hell for an extra fee I'll give her the Patrick Stewart!" he finished with a chuckle.
"That's... not really what I'm looking for."
"Skin tabs?"
"Skin tabs?" I replied.
"Yeah they're annoying as hell. I could even put one right on her beltline, if you want."
"I don't think that's as bad as what she did to me."
"I could give her herpes," the man said.
"Wow, that's... creepy. Besides she probably already has it now, serves her right."
"You never can be too sure about herpes, sir. I could add in a rash, if you need it to have more effect."
"That's okay," I said as I got up, "I'm gonna go explore my options."
"Fair enough, just remember I have the lowest prices in town, my competition wouldn't do more than bad breath and a leg cramp, for what you can pay."
I walked out of the building, dejected. If I wanted to hire someone that petty, I could have just looked on craigslist and saved some gas. | 2014-12-13T13:01:48 | 2014-12-13T12:41:57 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] Almost every other country in the world has their own form of ninjas. We only know about the Japanese ones because they're rubbish.
(Inspired from a Showerthoughts post: http://www.reddit.com/r/Showerthoughts/comments/2ctoui/what_if_every_country_has_ninjas_but_we_only_know/) | The semi-quiet buzz of muted 80s rock and conversation in the the northern Canadian bar breaks as a voice floats to the surface, like an iceberg flipping over revealing its hidden depths. "Bullshit!"
"Hey, watch out, you'll spill your drink." replies the quiet man.
Quieter now, "Bullshit, Russia has never landed an invasion force across the northern ocean. If they'd had, people would have heard about it, right? Wrong. I was with the Arctic Rangers 'til I was kicked out. I heard things. I seen things."
"Why did they kick you out?", came the quiet reply, as a glass is topped up.
"'Cause of the drinkin'. Gets cold out there and a nip keeps you warm. But that's besides the point." The old man leans in closer as his voice drops further. "I know what I seen. Canada's got a secret force of snow ninjas. They says it's hypothermia, and that people get lost in the snow, but that's not the case. Russia *tried* to invade, but they never heard from their army again."
"Right. Secret snow ninja."
"Really! I didn't believe it myself, but I was called in to help clean up some snowmobiles with Russian markings on them about ten years back.. We taked them out to some lake and sank 'em through the ice."
"Are you sure? Here, let me top you up again."
"I know what I saw - let me show you..."
...
"Hypothermia. Poor old drunk wandered off towards the lake by himself and gets lost. See - there's only one set of footprints in the fresh snow. Must have not felt the cold due to all the drink until it was too late.."
Edit:
Hot blood quickly cools
Empty frozen tundra lies
Silently as death | Vietnam, the only country in the entire world able to fight off one of the strongest army in the world, from the Mongol, China's old Dynasty, Champa to French and of course, the freaking U.S.A. "How? how did such a small country, able to defeat such an opponent?" The Student asked the old buddhist monk. The monk have been once a soldier but now have done with the war, live in a peaceful temple with children come and asking about the war. He witness the death of the burning monk, saw the face of Ho Chi Minh, shake hand even, he also remember the face of those who "Sat than" have killed. Countless of Generals have fall to the battlefield. Although the strength of the civilian is strong, they have a little help. A silent help. General's head mysteriously delivered, Emperor suddenly felt sick and die. They don't cover themselves in black clothes, they are sometime just plain villager who have a strong will, they use the forest enviroment, the weapon, its not extreme poison, its not black steel knife, its not katana or hidden blades. Only some long and thick niddle, bamboo spear or just some snake venom. It is easy to go into some small country and take over it, but leaving it, alive, is another thing. Tunel dig right beneath the soldier, trap lay 1 ft next to them, you can hardly seperate soldier from villager or assassin from an lady in her late 60, anyone can fight, fight for the freedom, for the people, it doesn't matter the power but the will, that the code of the ninja of Vietnam. You may enter a city,you may conquer it but if all the villager are gone, food and water is no where to be found and the gate just closed, what would you be? target practice. Dien Bien Phu, the world strongest fortress vs few hundred novice soldier with some cheap rifle and old WW2 cannon that they dragged through a mountain, a fucking mountain with their bare hands and bike, guess who win that fight?maybe its the soldier or some....person might have snuck in, lower the security and killed some key guard. However, history might have write wrong by both side, there is no truth in War. But, the ninja tale may not be such a tale, or maybe it just some story the monk made up so the kid would leave him alone, or, is he testing the children from the start? to find a true warrior from just a story? how knew, maybe they are right behind you, don't look back, they are already know who they need to kill, if you are not bad, then you don't have anything to worry about but if you do, well.....turn around.....sucker | 2014-12-15T14:02:08 | 2014-12-15T08:14:14 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] A new bio-weapon is tested. It's effects are... Unexpected. | "Sir, the salve has been applied to the patients in the observation room."
"Yes, and?"
"Well sir, it seems that there were some... interesting effects."
"Well the weapon is meant to cause their skin to lose cohesion and slide off the body. How effective was it?"
"None at all, sir."
"Excuse me?"
"None at all. The mixtures have caused all their hairs to fall out and be grow what appears to be some sort of grass."
"What?"
"Yes, and they seem to be excreting some form of liquid from their pores that according to our analysis is... Well, a highly potent hallucinogenic."
"Well did it harm them?"
"No sir, they were unaffected. But the research teams made contact with them and they, well..."
"They what?"
"They're in a state of panic."
"But what about you?"
"Sir, I'm fairly certain I'm talking to a filing cabinet." | Six death-row inmates sit at six desks in a sealed, sparse room. Five men and a woman. All waiting. Fidgeting. Nervous. They've not been told what to expect, and that makes it worse.
Five minutes pass. Then ten. Twenty. An hour. Two.
Six inmates sit, staring ahead. The air in the room *shimmers*. There are metallic grates up above, on the ceiling, *hissing*.
"I am hungry," says inmate five, from the rear left corner. "I want to eat."
The other inmates turn, impassively observing as he places the thumb from his right hand into his mouth, looking rather like a giant, bald baby, save for the swastika carved into the flesh of his forehead.
They continue to watch as he chomps down, severing the thumb with a sickening *crunch*, working it around in his mouth, chewing and chewing until after a minute, he finally swallows.
"I am still hungry," he exclaims. "I am even hungrier than I was before!"
The other inmates nod emphatically. They are not surprised to see him place the remainder of his right hand into his mouth, all the way up to the wrist.
*Crunch, crunch, crunch.*
It takes him more than two minutes to swallow this time, but when he is done, it is accompanied by a satisfied grin. "I am no longer hungry."
He returns to staring ahead, the stump that was his right hand gushing blood onto the desk. Nevertheless, he looks content.
The other inmates follow suit, turning back, facing forward. It is a whole two hours before inmate one, the woman, turns to the man on her left, and standing, proclaims "I am hungry." | 2015-01-16T15:42:21 | 2015-01-16T14:59:04 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | Getting harder to remember.
Damn! Just thought I'd try my sons PlayBox to see what all the fuss is about, then bang, these things must be more advanced than I thought.
Getting harder to remember...
I need to get out of here, but how? This world seems real enough, I should speak to someone here to see if they know, maybe they're even another person stuck like me!
Why was I here again?
I walk over to a tall woman in a labcoat, maybe this is one of those Mario's my son is always talking about. She tells me she's a scientist, perfect! Just the sort of person who could help.
"What are your plans for experimentation today Sir?"
Sir? Well this is my laboratory isn't it?
No! Im trapped! Must.. Remember...
"Caroline, it.. is Caroline isnt it?"
She nods.
"Just Science Caroline!" I boom, I feel bad for raising my voice, its not like me.. or is it?...
No! Remember.. She's just one of those computer characters!
Isn't She?
Struggling to hold onto that memory I shout out, "Somehow Ive suddenly been teleported here, dedicate some science to that!"
I may not remember who I am, but I know when life gives you lemons, you make life take the lemons back.
edit:Grammar
Thanks for all the comments and upvotes people! :) | I had just come back from a business trip, I was always "just coming back from business." I wanted to make an effort to bond with him, so I walked up to to my sons room. I heard him from outside the door, using profanities I'd never thought he knew. It seems he had developed a colorful vocabulary, not that I would have noticed. I grabbed the knob and let myself in, within an instant the cursing stopped and my boy turned to face me in horror. Before I could even let out a word he spoke "Oh no, I'm so sorry dad. I can't help it, this game if too difficult."
Looking past the cursing for the sake of bonding, I asked encouragingly which game he was playing. He looked me dead in the eye and with contempt muttered "Dark souls 2." I started chuckling I said "It can't be that hard" With doubt in his voice my son replied "Dad this isn't some pong or doom game. This game is really hard and you die all the time"
The rooms lighting dropped a few shades, all the lights dimming at once. All except the t.v. that is, it seemed to get brighter in fact. From the center of the screen the light appeared to be swirling, it started to grow out farther and farther until it felt like it was taking me into it. Everything faded out and then suddenly just like that I was sitting by a fire. I got up and left the room, I rounded a corner and I saw a glimmer. I looked past the glimmer and saw a monster holding a great big sword. My line of sight started to slide diagonal and to the left, then I hit the floor. The monster walked away and started pacing again, I looked right in front of me and saw half of a body lying there. I noticed the the edges of my vision where starting to close in as if I was going to pass out, so I tried to prop myself up on my right arm. Nothing, nothing moved in response to my command. In dismay I realized the half body was my other half, fear started to set in and then......nothing, just an empty black nothingness. Then an ominous voice "You're dead" | 2015-05-07T22:29:57 | 2015-05-07T22:04:09 | 770 | 90 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | *"You can't fucking pause" my ass* thought the man as he stormed into his son's room.
"Minions have spawned"
*What the fuck?*. He wondered where he was. None of the landscape seemed familiar, except for the sky. All he could see was his son's face and the back of the room. However, he was still stuck nonetheless.
"You better pause this damn thing right now boy and go study for APUSH." He could practically hear his son shitting himself when he saw his own father rather than the character he chose, while at the same time saying it couldn't be paused.
Something, or someone, then caught the father's eye. A scantily lady in a red robe like dress and what looked like tails was nearby, glancing at him occasionally with a seductive smile on her face. With a grin on his face, he approached her, with obvious intent to get in her pants.
*If this doesn't get him to pause the damn thing then nothing will. That'll teach him a lesson about pausing his shit when he needs to.*
Later that night, the mother of the boy weeped when her husband was nowhere to be found during the power outage, the son with a stoic expression, trying to forget what had unfolded before his eyes before he thought to trip the circuit breaker.
*Another fucking series lost, huh?* | I had just come back from a business trip, I was always "just coming back from business." I wanted to make an effort to bond with him, so I walked up to to my sons room. I heard him from outside the door, using profanities I'd never thought he knew. It seems he had developed a colorful vocabulary, not that I would have noticed. I grabbed the knob and let myself in, within an instant the cursing stopped and my boy turned to face me in horror. Before I could even let out a word he spoke "Oh no, I'm so sorry dad. I can't help it, this game if too difficult."
Looking past the cursing for the sake of bonding, I asked encouragingly which game he was playing. He looked me dead in the eye and with contempt muttered "Dark souls 2." I started chuckling I said "It can't be that hard" With doubt in his voice my son replied "Dad this isn't some pong or doom game. This game is really hard and you die all the time"
The rooms lighting dropped a few shades, all the lights dimming at once. All except the t.v. that is, it seemed to get brighter in fact. From the center of the screen the light appeared to be swirling, it started to grow out farther and farther until it felt like it was taking me into it. Everything faded out and then suddenly just like that I was sitting by a fire. I got up and left the room, I rounded a corner and I saw a glimmer. I looked past the glimmer and saw a monster holding a great big sword. My line of sight started to slide diagonal and to the left, then I hit the floor. The monster walked away and started pacing again, I looked right in front of me and saw half of a body lying there. I noticed the the edges of my vision where starting to close in as if I was going to pass out, so I tried to prop myself up on my right arm. Nothing, nothing moved in response to my command. In dismay I realized the half body was my other half, fear started to set in and then......nothing, just an empty black nothingness. Then an ominous voice "You're dead" | 2015-05-07T22:25:19 | 2015-05-07T22:04:09 | 204 | 90 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | "Good Lord this game is complicated", Daniel thought to himself. "It's so realistic... I mean you could go to a bar and play bar games, or you can walk around and do nothing. Who would enjoy this? Why not just live a normal *real* life? Welp, whatever. I have better things to do."
Daniel powered off his son's PlayStation and went about his day. The first errand he had assigned himself was a quick trip to the clothing store. He sat up from the leather couch, but something wasn't right. He felt unusually heavy and unbalanced. He tried to get his footing but it felt like he had instantly gained 30 pounds. He did have slight thyroid issues but he had never felt any disorientation quite like this.
His immediate response was to go to his bedroom and lie down and nap it off. Daniel did have a long day of work yesterday and his boss definitely did not make it easy on him. Maybe he was just tired.
He drifted off to sleep rather quickly, laughing to himself about that silly video game as his eyes closed. It felt as soon as he closed his eyes they immediately sprung back open.
"Man, this is odd", he thought. "I barely slept... And the time, holy shit! I closed my eyes for 10 seconds and now its 4PM! Where did the time go?"
In a rush, Daniel unstabally wobbled to his dresser to change his clothes. He managed to get off his jeans and emptied the pockets. What he found was truly shocking. A wad of cash that was well worth $125,000. He slammed it on his dresser and began to panick. He had never seen such a significant amount of money. He didn't even think it was possible to wad up a sum like that.
As he was hanging his jeans up he heard two distinct clunks, two baseball sized items had hit the ground. Where could they have come from? Daniel couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Gr... grenades?! Oh shit this is like a federal offense or something. How can I own grenades?"
Daniel hurriedly changed the rest of his clothes and left his house quicker than he had ever left it before. He ran as fast as he could into his mini van which was oddly parked right in front of his door. His world was turning upside down. Either that, or he is going batshit crazy.
Then his cell phone rings. He looks at it with disgust. He knows someone is watching him or playing games with him. Surely, once he answers the phone it'll all be over. He would be on some prank TV show and all this would be just some dark twisted humor. Surely. Daniel took a deep breath and answered the phone.
"He... hello..."
"Hey Daniel, its me Roman! Let's go bowling!" | My son recently started playing Minecraft and though I didn’t understand the game, I made an effort to learn the basics so we could play together. He showed me how to make some tools, what they were used for, and how to smelt metals. I thought it was all pretty simple, but I decided to take it upon myself to learn a little more outside of our playing time together. I coughed up the twenty-something dollars for the download and launched the game. Grass, trees, ocean, sand, and snow surrounded my character as he was dropped into an entirely new and unique world. Gathering wood was the first step to starting out; I knew that much. I punched trees, made a wood pickaxe, and then proceeded to gather cobblestone. The sun approached the horizon and I realized I had no safe place to go. My son had always gone to his house and busied himself with things when the sun went down. I had no house, and barely had the essential tools for the game. Calling it quits for the night, I went to close the game, but couldn’t find the top right corner of the window on my screen. I looked on my keyboard for the escape button and it hit me: I have no keyboard. I have no mouse. I was holding a wooden pickaxe in my hand, I mean physically holding the thing, and I could look down and see my feet. I dropped the pick and rubbed my eyes hard. When I opened them nothing had changed. I had never taken acid in my life, but I could only imagine this was what a hippie would call a bad trip. It was turning dark and I heard a familiar groan. This time it wasn’t on the other side of a wall. I panicked and ran for a cave, thinking it might be safe; quickly finding that I guessed wrong, my mind became level and accepted its reality. Whatever was out there I would have to face. Jogging out of the cave, I threw down a workbench and slapped together a stone sword. A green monster with blue pants and shirt emerged from between two oaks and lumbered toward me. I swung the sword, knocking the creature back. It continued to pursue slowly but steadily. I swung and connected thrice more and it disappeared, leaving a nasty smelling pile of crud floating just above the grass. There was no time to think as another goon came for me. Four more swings brought the thing down and again I smelled that god-awful stench. *zzzzzZZZIIIP!* Was that an arrow that flew by? I thought to myself. *zzzzzZIP-THUCK!* That one connected and pain seared up my spine. Adrenaline took hold and I turned to face the arrows’ source. I hid behind trees as I dodged projectiles and approached my assailant, not noticing the even greater threat walking up to me. *BOOM!* I felt agonizing pain as I was blown back by the explosion and then nothing. I awoke quickly in a patch of grass. Analyzing my surroundings, I found I was in the same spot I had started the game in. I was not in pain, I was not hungry, and I had nothing on my person but my clothing. The sun poked its head above the distant ocean. I had been stuck in this increasingly hellish scene for nearly twenty-four hours. Multiple groans and foreign clinks came from all directions. Fires raged and then died out. I was utterly confused and mentally exhausted. I had to figure out how to get out of this place.
 
This is my first time posting here so please forgive me for formatting errors. | 2015-05-08T06:02:17 | 2015-05-08T03:26:05 | 61 | 10 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | I had been mutilated.
As I struggled to stand the lack of fingers and toes was more apparent then ever.
My hands and feet had been reduced to mere stumps.
But I knew I had to move forward.
To seek the ultimate truth.
A single message resonated in my mind.
"How do you tame a horse in Minecraft ?"
| *"Just sit down on the chair, put on the helmet, and say what i told you to say."*
*"Alright. I'll try it if you stop bugging me about it, but it still won't change how I feel about you wasting your life away on this crap."*
He sighs and scratches his head like he always does.
*"How long is this going to take anyway? Your mom said Dinner would be ready in about an hour."*
*"Just another minute, and trust me, it's really cool. It'll be like nothing you've ever seen before."*
The download finally finishes and I put on the helmet, waiting for him to follow. I can't wait! I didn't get too far in the beta, but from what i did get to play, it was astonishing... Now he would see what he's been missing out on.
His childhood of quarter eating arcade machines was light years from what this new gear could do.
*"Alright, i think I've got it on right. Now what."* He grumbles.
*"Say it with me on the count of three okay? One. Two. Three."*
*"Link Start!"* | 2015-05-08T01:40:47 | 2015-05-08T00:56:15 | 54 | 15 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | I had been mutilated.
As I struggled to stand the lack of fingers and toes was more apparent then ever.
My hands and feet had been reduced to mere stumps.
But I knew I had to move forward.
To seek the ultimate truth.
A single message resonated in my mind.
"How do you tame a horse in Minecraft ?"
| "OK, I passed Quake and Quake 2 without using a mouse. Only a keyboard...I've been in the USSR's army for 5 years. Although as a driver/mechanic of a mobile nuke launcher but that is minor details...I've seen men GET SHOT. I've seen DEATH. I can handle THIS". Thought the man to himself as the trans-virtual vortex sucked him deeper and deeper into his son's laptop.
"I just hope I wont encounter any of his pornography...I can handle death, I cant handle that..."
He shut his eyes and suddenly he stopped moving, he felt firm ground beneath his feet and the touch of familiar fabric on his skin. He opened his eyes, he was wearing a set of well worn overalls used by all tank drivers of the USSR's army. He had a strong feeling someone has already died in them, but that feeling was nothing compared to the sheer excitement that rushed through him as he stood before the soviet monster infront of him. The ISU 152, also known as "Zveroboy", or "Beast killer".
Tears of joy would've overwhelmed him if it wasnt for one thought that flashed through his mind. "Wait, I thought he hated World Of Tanks!". | 2015-05-08T01:40:47 | 2015-05-07T23:28:07 | 54 | 15 |
[WP] Write an emotional and tragic moment so poorly that we laugh instead. | The love of my life deaded in my arms. First she was breathe, then she deaded.
Tears flowed down down my cheeks, neck, shirt, belt, pants, on to the floor. Then eventually they evaporated.
Three days later she was buried into the ground. It was so sad. All the people were sad. They had sad faces. Their faces were so sad. There was sadness in their faces. And when I asked them if they were sad they said yes.
She was my grammar and english tutor. The only one they said could help me write gooder. I loved her so many. And even though I am one with sadness, I think they are wrong and my writing is gooder than ever.
So I conclude, the end. | She was all like, "oh life is meaningless without you," because he had a big dick and was all like, "yeah, I'll do you up real nice" all the time and when they went out he paid for a lot of stuff because he had all this bank from being a business guy and he said "I'll miss you too, when I'm gone," but he wouldn't because he'd be all dead and shit.
Anyway, she's all crying and going uuuuuuurrrhhhhh and he held her and put one hand on her head and he was holding her so that she wouldn't see that a tear came out of his eye but he wasn't a fucking vagina most of the time. He was a boss because he had a sports car and drove it really fast.
He lies back on the bed and she strokes his hair (like she's his fucking mum, which is stupid, but whatever because he gets it all night so he has to do things like this like when I went out with Tracy Flehman and she wanted to hold my hand all the time even though I know she stroked Bobby Fletcher's jeans with that hand) and she says "goodbye, my love, wait for me." And he doesn't say "lol" or anything, even though he's going to die, he's not going anywhere, he just nods and then sighs and then he's dead but he doesn't shit his pants or anything because he went just before she got there so it wouldn't stink out the place when he died.
She comes back home again and tells me this whole story, and I'm just like "Pff. cool story, mum." | 2015-05-24T16:40:34 | 2015-05-24T15:27:24 | 45 | 24 |
[WP] Two constraints: 1. It's raining 2. There are only two characters. Go | My wife and I are not bad people.
We had been laying in bed for the last two days. We had spent a lot of that time making love. Seemed like an appropriate thing to do.
When we needed to rest, we stared into each other's eyes and talked. About the past, mostly. How we met, fun times we had, the trips we'd taken, the jobs we'd worked, the fights, and the reconciliations. The future didn't really come up. It just didn't seem important now.
Occasionally, between bouts of passion, we'd talk about what we had done to end up in this situation. Maybe we weren't the most devout of people. We'd definitely let our religious obligations slide in the last decade or so as life became more stressful. Maybe on occasion we had overcharged a particularly pompous politician. I had trouble feeling bad about that, it's not like they couldn't afford it, and we were trying to save up to have a baby. There was that one time that a guy broke into the house with ill-defined intentions and I'd beaten him bloody. Maybe I felt a little guilty about that, but there had been news lately about people breaking into homes for theft, rape, and/or murder. I just couldn't take a chance. I loved my wife.
It wasn't exactly a safe world we lived in, but it was our home and we loved it. There were things we might wish were different, but we all did our best to make a life of it. There were evil people out there, but there were decent people as well. There was that one crazy religious nut down the street who lived by every word of the old ways, but we generally tried to ignore him. The world had changed in the last few centuries, and the old ways just didn't have a place in the world in which we all tried to live. Besides, that guy always smelled like animal feces and sawdust. Not a pleasant person to be around in general. Especially when he started going off on how God spoke to him. We all kind of tuned out at that point.
When the rain started a week ago, nobody really thought much of it. Rain happened. Even the torrential downpours really didn't affect the day to day operations of our village. People continued to go to work, joke with their neighbors, play with their children.
When the rain continued to fall in great sheets and the water turned the street in front of our house into a river, my wife and I took to our bed. We made love and spoke of the past. The sound of buildings crashing to the ground and the screams of our neighbors as they watched their families drown before their eyes had begun to lessen as fewer of us remained.
I love my wife.
We are not bad people. | Beyond the lip of the bus shelter roof the rain was unrelenting. Beyond the rain was the sea; grey and topped with angry white, wind whipped, rain spattered. Inside the shelter Jane sat at one end of the bench and Paul at the other. He sighed, turned to her.
"Don't you bloody dare" she said. She drew her coat closer, tighter around her. She'd tried to leave, had been driven back by the sudden furious downpour, sat in her corner with the empty diet coke bottle and the "Sens 4 Jaffa" graffiti with her hair plastered to her skull.
"But..."
She turned, baleful eyes beneath that slicked fringe, and bared her teeth.
"Shut it. Do you hear that?" The pause was filled with the pounding of the rain. "That is the only sound I want to hear."
Paul was pale, wide eyed, stricken. He shifted and writhed as if constricted, stared at the ground. There was nowhere to go except into the rain. He turned to look at her.
"I'm *sorry*" he said "I know it was wrong. I let myself get carried away. I wish I could pretend it didn't happen or that I wasn't in control. I was really, really stupid."
The rain intensified. Jane shivered and tried to curl up on the bench, but couldn't.
"I'm seeing *Darren*" she said "He'll bloody kill you if he finds out."
Paul nodded, and something in him made him say
"He'll kill you too when he finds out you kissed me."
"I did not bloody kiss you. *You* kissed *me*."
Paul stood. He was trembling. Nerves? Anger? Both.
"Oh yeah, that was me," he said "standing there saying about how I'd had such a lovely day and you were just the best friend who always understood you, looked out for you, cared about you. Oh no, wait, *That was you*."
"You stuck your hand up my top" she said. No heat, no anger, just flat. There was no getting away from it, no avoiding it. Paul deflated.
"Yeah, I did. And I shouldn't have."
"No you should not have."
"Look, I was an idiot."
"You stuck your hand up my top on the sea front at Eastbourne. In broad daylight. After an otherwise very pleasant kiss." Jane stood and faced him, even though he was trying very hard to be somewhere else.
"I said I'm an idiot."
"The worst of it is, it was a nice kiss" said Jane in a very small voice. Paul felt like he'd been struck by lightning. "I mean," she continued "we've been friends for years and I'd never thought about it until today, but it turns out you've got a very nice kiss. I'm partial to that, I am."
Paul stared, words deserting him even as he tried to say them. She'd never thought about it. He always had. He closed his eyes, took a breath.
"Can you forgive me?"
The rain slowed, stopped. Jane looked out at the sky and sniffed.
"Not yet" she said. She stepped out of the bus shelter and looked back at him. "Maybe next week. Maybe."
Paul sat in the shelter, picking at the flaking green paint and staring at the ground, listening as she walked away, wondering what forgiveness might be like.
| 2015-05-29T08:26:50 | 2015-05-29T08:23:50 | 46 | 10 |
[WP] You are death row's last meal chef. Today's condemned prisoner killed your daughter. | I stare down the prisoner, the one who murdered my daughter. I have been thinking about moment for years. Should I take revenge on my daughter's murderer? This was my first instinct, but it wasn't what she would have wanted. I still haven't decided when his request comes in. Spaghetti with meatballs. It reminds me of the last meal my family had together. I prepare the meal in a daze. An hour later, I walk into the cell with the meal. I clear my throat and begin my speech. "You murdered my daughter and tore apart my family. My wife left me, and I haven't seen my son in 10 years. I wanted to hurt you, but my daughter was merciful, so I will extend that mercy to you. I want you to know that I forgive you." His eyes water. He says the four words that will be his last. "I love you Dad."
EDIT: words | Chiken fried steak, and baked potato. Such a simple man. His last meal on earth and he asks for something so... Simple. No gravy or anything. Dry, just like him.
This man killed my daughter. A parent should never have to bury their child, let alone cook a meal for the one who killed them. She was my bright little thing, shy, and curious. Molly was always a good kid, and even pushed me to act nicer too. When she saw me being nice, she would just look at me and smile. It was amazing how pure of heart she was as a child. And now shes gone.
I finish cooking this mans meal. And the bailffs let me take it to him personally. I walk in and see him. My heart throbs as i think of what i am about to say,
"Chiken Fried steak, and your baked potato." I say,
He just looks at me and starts biting into it.
"You hit my daughter. With your truck." I say,
His eyes widen and his mouth falls open.
"You couldnt figure out how to leave the liquor alone could you. I saw your record, you havent done anything but drive drunk all your damn life, and look where it got you.."
He starts to sob, and attempt an "im so sorry."
"Stop crying," i say, "I'm not here to exact my revenge, or avenge my daughter. I'm here to say that all you had in your life was a bottle, and that was your problem. All i had in my life was Molly, and you took her away. And even though everyone who knows what you've done hates you, i just want to say...
I forgive you."
He looks up, tears running down his pathetic face, but i have already walked out.
I said what i needed to.. And somewhere, theres Molly - looking at me and smiling. | 2015-07-04T10:09:30 | 2015-07-04T09:49:50 | 514 | 50 |
[WP] Write two small stories with the exact same words in the same order, but with punctuation giving them completely different meanings.
[deleted] | I watched you dance in the rain. It was beautiful. You smiled, I smiled back. Then there was joy. And now, you are still beautiful like a flower.
I watched you dance. In the rain it was beautiful. You smiled. I smiled. Back then there was joy. And now, you are still. Beautiful like a flower. | I killed someone. A man. Followed him home before I did it. I didn't even know him. A stranger, that's all. I thought I'd leave him bleeding if I didn't. "Help me." I was too kind for my own good. I watched the light go from his eyes, smiling. He asked me to end it. I obliged. I thought, "He was strange at first but now he seemed just. Like me." I figured if the same thing happened to me I would ask for the same suffering. Never helped anybody, anyways. That's just. The right thing to do. Isnt it?
I killed someone. A man followed him home. Before I did it I didn't even know him. A stranger, that's all I thought. I'd leave him bleeding if I didn't help. Me? I was too kind for my own good. I watched the light go from his eyes. Smiling, he asked me to end it. I obliged. I thought he was strange at first but now he seemed just like me. I figured if the same thing happened to me I would ask for the same. Suffering never helped anybody, anyways. That's just the right thing to do isn't it? | 2015-09-23T10:42:41 | 2015-09-23T10:02:07 | 630 | 161 |
[WP] Write two small stories with the exact same words in the same order, but with punctuation giving them completely different meanings.
[deleted] | Set Free:
And at the last second I saw her stepping onto the train. I realized I would never see her again. Powerless, I watched her fade.
And at the last second I saw her. Stepping onto the train I realized I would never see her again. Powerless, I watched her fade.
| I killed someone. A man. Followed him home before I did it. I didn't even know him. A stranger, that's all. I thought I'd leave him bleeding if I didn't. "Help me." I was too kind for my own good. I watched the light go from his eyes, smiling. He asked me to end it. I obliged. I thought, "He was strange at first but now he seemed just. Like me." I figured if the same thing happened to me I would ask for the same suffering. Never helped anybody, anyways. That's just. The right thing to do. Isnt it?
I killed someone. A man followed him home. Before I did it I didn't even know him. A stranger, that's all I thought. I'd leave him bleeding if I didn't help. Me? I was too kind for my own good. I watched the light go from his eyes. Smiling, he asked me to end it. I obliged. I thought he was strange at first but now he seemed just like me. I figured if the same thing happened to me I would ask for the same. Suffering never helped anybody, anyways. That's just the right thing to do isn't it? | 2015-09-23T10:11:20 | 2015-09-23T10:02:07 | 361 | 161 |
[WP]At a certain age, adults learn a terrible secret about the world that they can't share with younger generations. | "I just don't understand," he said, shaking his head and staring down at the ground. "Are you saying -- you lied to me?"
"No, dear -- not lied." His mother put her arm around him. "I know it's hard to hear. But it was for your own good. It just -- it made you so happy, and, well, it keeps you behaving well."
He was quiet for a long while. Then, slowly, he asked, "Does Dad know?"
"Yes. Everyone knows. Everyone finds out -- it's part of becoming an adult."
It didn't seem possible. If what she was saying was true, it meant that this was more than just a lie -- it was a conspiracy. The myth was spread on the television. There were posters and banners in stores shoving this lie down his throat. It meant the government was spreading it, that the whole entertainment industry was trying to trick people into believing it. And for what?
"To keep people in line." He answered his own question out loud. "That's why you do it, isn't it? You spread this lie -- to *control* people. To keep the young folk from behaving a way *you* don't like."
His mother didn't say a word. She couldn't even look at him.
"You've taken the most beautiful part of the world away from me." He nearly spat out the words as he spoke.
For a long time they were silent. Then, slowly, she stood up, patting him on the shoulder and telling him she'd give him time.
"Wait," he said. "I just have one question. There's just one thing I don't understand."
She turned back slowly and waited.
"Who puts the presents under the Christmas tree?" | "Giant Lizards?" said Jim
"Yup" the old man in the bathrobe
"Why are you telling me this? And how did you get into my house? And why are you wearing a bathrobe? And why did I offer you tea?"
"Thank you for that by the way" said the old man, taking a drink.
Jim stared at the old man in the bathrobe.
"You don't believe me do you?" said the old man
"It's kind of a hard pill to swallow"
The old man looked over his shoulder.
"You can come out now"
The nine foot tall lizard in the corner put down the potted plant it was holding in front of it's face and stepped forward.
"Sssssssup" it said
"Fucking fuck" said Jim, falling backwards in his chair.
"You owe me five dollarsssssssss" said the lizard.
The old man took a fiver out of the pocket of his bathrobe and held it up. The lizard took it as they watched a shaking hand appear over the top of the table. Jim pulled himself up until they could see his eyes.
"You…you run the world?"
"Well me and a bunch of other lizardsssssssss"
"So what about elections"
"It'ssssssss a let the baby have itssssssssss bottle ssssssssituation"
"And I can't tell anyone?"
"Nope"
"What if I do?"
"We'll eat your organsssssssssss"
Jim made a noise that sounded something like "eep"
"Jussssst kidding. We will kill you though"
Jim stared at the lizard over the table.
"And we'll probably eat your organsssssss after"
Jim kept staring.
"Come to think of it I wassssssssn't joking"
No one said anything.
"Well I ssssssssshould get going" said the lizard, stepping back into the corner and holding the pot in front of its face again.
"Any questions?" said the old man
"Can you leave please?"
"I was just on my way out. I still have eight world views to ruin tonight" the old man finished his tea "Thanks for the tea"
He got up and left. Jim kept staring at the lizard in the corner behind the potted plant.
"Are you going to stay for a while?" said Jim
"Yessssssss" said the nine foot tall lizard who was one of the nine foot tall lizards who ran the world
"Ok" said Jim, curling into a ball on his kitchen floor. | 2015-11-25T20:56:00 | 2015-11-25T20:33:06 | 49 | 15 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | From the personal journal of Astro-chronicler Des Variin.
Humans. Reviled, worshiped, misunderstood, underestimated. I first encountered these curious beings some 100 standard years ago, and have yet to fully understand all that makes them so damndibly different from all the other galactic races.
They follow the celestial standard, being bipedal with large brains and being more or less symmetrical, and possessing an organized community. Humans are curious, nearly to a fault, much like the All'tarr. They desire to understand the hows and whys of nearly everything they encounter that is different from their normal. Sometimes this backfires, but usually makes for exceptional leaps in technological advancement far in excess of their time past First Star Exploration (an anthropoligically understood time standard). They are as advanced technologically, at FSE 125, as other species are at FSE's upwards of 400.
Humans have, comparatively, short lives but fast reproductive cycles. This has several effects on their psyche, I theorize. Their relative fast reproductive rate makes the loss of individuals easier to deal with, so their curious nature that at times gets them into trouble is buffered.
They are, however, aware of their mortality, and so tend to be some of the more pacifistic beings in the galaxy. Fearing the loss of Human lives, and by extension the lives of others. They live passionately, love completely, and trust unconditionally. Usually. Their short lives means that often times, they live in the moment, but this more often than not means they respect life more than other long lived races that sometimes take their incredibly long lives for granted. They have been known to broker deals between warring parties and fostering fledgling races when they are found, instead of pacifying them with violence.
Yet, to consider the humans to be pure pacifists, as the Aldarri, would be a heinous mistake. Their relatively difficult evolution has carefully honed even the most average Human into an organism capable of enduring and inflicting great violence.
For the average Galactic Citizen, when struck in the abdomen with a blaster bolt unprotected, the shock to the neuro system is so severe that death is three to six seconds away. Humans have been known to survive for as long as eighty minutes, fighting with lethal ability for the first fourteen.
They are rational and compassionate, but in a stressful situation, a strange evolutionary mechanism manifests, called the fight or flight condition. Humans possess a gland, that in times of extreme stress, excretes a combat drug. This drug dulls pain, slows blood loss, and allows for extreme physical performance. Last year, a settler on Innova-G lifted a 1000 Kg shipping container that had fallen onto her child at their farmstead and rescued the child.
They also have been noted to have an impressive ability to continue to fight after taking damage. Fighters in their combat sports often continue to mount effective defenses even after taking devastating strikes to their brain cases. Other fighters have been observed allowing an opponent to dislocate joints rather than forfeit the fight, often continuing to fight until the official stops the match. There are countless images in the medical files of humans impaled with objects that would have killed 87% of Galactic Council Species.
In Standard Calendar 8327, the Vall discovered the extreme of the Human's fighting capacity when they launched an offensive against 60% of the Human held worlds. The Humans were only known to the Galactic Councel for 12 Standard years, and thought by all to be pacifists, because of the several successful treaties they brokered in their earliest years. The Vall wanted the heavy metals known to exist in the Human home solar system's asteroid belt and launched a campaign despite several rounds of negotiations. Ultimately, this was felt by the humans as a direct attack against the Human Home world, and Humans as a whole.
Today, there is no Vall Home world, and only 20% of the Vall continue to exist. The Humans have a saying where they "Make an Example" of someone. The Vall is that someone. The Vall are currently the Human's most fervent allies. they learned the hard way about the human's darker side.
The Humans are known as the best friend you could have, and the worst enemy. The Vall have seen both. I have been blessed to only have been their friend.
edited a word or two so far.
Also: wow, this took off. Thanks for the kind words and taking time to read this. | "Well little Hunin?"
"Human, It's pronounced human." said the woman as she sipped at her drink.
The two Yinhin looked at her for a moment not sure what to make of her interruption.
"What do you think?" asked the larger of the Yinhin as he raised and dropped the sword onto the bar, attempting to replicate his supposedly dramatic entrance.
The woman looked down at the sword and then at the large warrior creature.
"Impressive," she took another sip of her drink and turned back to stare into it's depths.
The two fanged and clawed warriors once again looked at each other in confusion.
"Are you not female?" asked the one holding the sword.
"I am, now will you leave me alone?" asked the woman.
"You should be in awe human female! I fought in the duels and took the sword of the Alpha! Now I am the leader of the Yinhin of the city!"
The woman nodded, "Good for you, now will you let me drink in peace?" she asked.
"YOU!" The large warrior slammed the sword into the bar again cracking the old wood. The woman lifted her glass off of it and lazily looked down at the damage.
"You should quiver in fear, I am the Alpha!" shouted the Yinhin.
The woman sighed and glanced over at the bartender, an older member of the species, one who had lived in the city his entire life.
"Were you this stupid when you were a kid?" she asked.
The bartender let out a low amused warble, his feathers and claws smoothed out. "I'd like to say no, but humans are an odd lot. I'll look the other way if you want to teach him something."
The woman chuckled, the young Alpha looked between the human and the older member of his species.
"Old Man, why do you patronize the weakling? I command you tell her why she should be in awe!"
The old bartender laughed, his warble becoming almost a high pitched squeal.
"Alpha you might be you hold the sword, but a fool is what you are. I'll not follow a frivolous order."
The young Alpha raised the sword and pointed it at the older, and wiser member of his species.
"Put the sword down." muttered the woman.
The Alpha glanced back at her and barred his fangs.
She sighed, "Alright I warned you."
Raising the glass to her lips she finished most of the drink until only a few dregs of the dark liquid remained. Taking the glass from her lips she swirled it for a moment, as if deciding to order another one.
In a flash of motion she threw the glass, hitting the young Alpha in the face. It shattered spraying alcohol and glass over him.
The young creature let out a squawk of astonishment and brought his sword around to slash at the woman, but she was already gone.
Swinging around the Alpha looked for her, only to see the wooden bars of a chair a moment before they hit him. Stunned the young Alpha collapsed onto the bar and tried to get his footing back, he was a seasoned and trained warrior! The paltry creature should not have been a threat!
"Here you are!" shouted the woman, and she slammed a fist into his manhood. The Young Alpha keened and let go of the sword.
It fell to the floor with a clang.
Everyone else in the bar who had gone silent at the exchange turned back to their drinks and conversation, in less then five seconds it was over.
Leaning over the woman picked up the sword grunting under its weight. Hefting it though she set it on the counter.
"This worth another drink? He's spoiled my mood." she said.
The Old Yinhin nodded, "Indeed."
taking her drink the human female strode to another section of the bar ignoring the Alpha completely.
Getting to his feet the Alien groaned and slowly stood back up.
"What was that?" asked the young Alpha as he retrieved his sword.
The older member of his species smiled, "Humans have a phrase, it's called fighting dirty."
"She did not even take my sword!" he said.
"Humans do not care about the honorable fight, or the propriety of an encounter. To a human all that matters is that in the end they are standing and their opponent is not."
The young Alpha's feathers wilted at that.
"That is terrifying."
"Thankfully they don't like to fight, the humans win every fight they get into so the challenge for them is to resolve everything through words. At least then it is a competition, think on that young Alpha."
The Alpha glanced over at the human and then his eyes widening he noticed how many other humans were in the bar.
"Why so many in here?" he asked.
The bartender smiled, "I serve drinks they like, I've usually got around ten or twelve of them in here at any time. Now, young Alpha as tradition would dictate you came here to demand tribute yes?" asked the bartender.
The Alpha paled and looked around the room again, "Uh, no I don't think I will."
"You sure?" asked the old bartender.
The Alpha glanced back at him and then at the humans.
"I'm sure!"
----
This is /r/HFY material!
I got my subreddit /r/CGWilliam! come say hi!
| 2016-03-13T14:25:47 | 2016-03-13T14:16:09 | 1,823 | 345 |
[WP] Two immortals meet and fall in love. Neither of them are aware of the other's immortality and the years are flying by... | I met him at the Train Station 11 years ago.
I remember his eyes so clearly like it was yesterday.
That autumn, he proposed with an elegant diamond ring.
Even though I said yes, I had my doubts.
How could this last?
My hair would stay blonde, and his would turn grey.
Wrinkles would never claim my face, but his would be withering away.
Could I watch him for the next 50, 60, 70 years?
Would he die tomorrow?
It would feel like a passing moment to me, but a literal lifetime to him.
What would he say when I look 25, and he looks 60?
He is such a sweet man. Always asking me what do I want to do, to eat, to watch on TV?
But I tell him it’s up to him.
Secretly, I think to myself that I have many many lifetimes to do what I want, eat what I want, catch up on old reruns of Breaking Bad.
I only want him to enjoy those things now… while he can.
I surprise him with little gifts. Things I’ve enjoyed in my many lifetimes. It’s funny because he always seems to comment that he already has one or he’s already been to that vacation spot. But that he would love it all the same and more because now he has it with me.
He has surprised me with little gifts of things he has enjoyed or places he’s been. I giggle on the inside because I’ve already enjoyed that café in Paris or that Hawaiian sunset on the beach.
He asked me one day if there was anything I would like to do that I’ve never done. I told him that I never got to do all those things with someone I have completely fallen in love with. He smiled knowingly.
I cry sometimes. How could I live after he’s gone? Knowing that I could never fall in love like this again. I would live in despair forever.
He saw me crying one night and held my hand. He asked me why I was so distraught. I told him that I don’t think I could ever live without him. He said not to worry. That won’t happen. I just shook my head in a fog of sadness.
***********************************************************
I couldn’t stand to watch her cry. It was a knife in my heart. Did she really believe I would be gone one day? Impossible. But she doesn’t know that.
I pulled out a photo album. The pictures were from that first year. So happy even after all these years. I give her everything… knowing that one day she’ll be gone, and I’ll still be here. She also gives me everything, but it is because she is so kind.
I flipped through the photos. We are so happy. So in love. So… young… even her…
She looks exactly the same. How long has it been? A decade or so? My heart leapt to my throat.
My eyes looked up from the album at the same time as hers looked up at mine. Wonder and curiosity flooded her face. We stared at each other. Afraid to ask the question.
The evidence piled up in my mind. She had been to every location on Earth it seemed. She always put my needs and wants before hers. She looks as young and lovely as the day we met.
Then she asked, “Will you outlive me?” I nodded. “How do you know?” she continued.
“I outlive everyone,” I replied sadly. She took my hand in hers.
“Not everyone,” she said.
| Elys of the Starry Night had been married to her husband for many decades. They had met at the event now referred to as The White Wedding, where the entirety of the Kentaran nobility were celebrating her sister's wedding, and everyone was poisoned with digitalis root.
The only other survivor was the Royal Poisoner, who had made himself immune through various misdeeds and experiments. He became the reluctant King, being the last remaining living relative of the Kentaran bloodline; that is to say, the only person not currently having a headstone at Kenterbury Cathedral.
One of the curious things about the Kentaran throne, is that it made people functionally immortal. This benefit, however, was only conferred to the *rightful* heir to the throne.
It was love at first sight, across the Grand Hall strewn with the poisoned desecrants of the throne. All but the King of the Time, Astered.
Elys was curious as to why her husband didn't really seem to age, although it was clear that she wasn't aging, either. Elys carried one of the falling star's hearts, which had fallen the day after she had met her love.
Elya stood, waiting for her husband to return from a difficult journey to Testra, a cold, bitter place that still had the thronging vibrance of love, life and farce deep in the mountains.
Her husband came through the doors, looking, for all intents and purpose, like a vagabond who had just escaped prison. Elys looked shocked at his appearance. She swished to his side, frowning. "Rasputin, my lover; what *happened* out there?"
Rasputin coughed up one of his lungs. Literally. He swalloed it back, grotesquely, before speaking. "My Lady Elys, my starry night, the fools tried to kill me!" He coughed again, less fierce. "They tried fifteen different ways to kill me during the final day of the negotiations. The sheer audacity!" He chuckled red, dripping his next words with a twisted poison.
"They poisoned me! Well, they tried to. When that didn't work, I was accosted on my way to the chambers, where I was stabbed, mugged, shot, clubbed and beaten! Then I was hung, drawn and quartered, then they tried drowning, impaling, crucifixion, decapitation, dismemberment, they even went vintage with a stake, as though I were one of that Stoker's Wampyres!
"They finally gave up after they spitted me and I fought my way out of their intestines. They left me many miles away in the mountaintops, and announced that I had finally succumbed to something." Elys smiled, and frowned, before finally settling on bewilderment, as she took in what Resputin had actually said.
"But darling, why aren't you dead?" she said.
"Because I have the love of a beautiful woman, and I have a mastery of my mind that should not be possible." Rasputin smiled, weakly. He thought about the horrors he had put himself through as the Royal Poisoner, and his extensive knowledge of anatomy, alongside his chemical and alchemical experiments had clearly been a success.
An arrow flew past Rasputin's ear, piercing Elys right through the breastbone. She gasped, before falling stunned to the floor. Rasputin gasped, and flung his awareness out. The shooter, a Testran native, had followed them back, and attemtped to take out Rasputin. In his rage, he flung his awareness at the shooter, a slim girl, no more than ten years old. Losing his hard-earned control, he shut down her mind and body totally.
Bringing his awareness back into his body, he raced to be by Elys' side, his rage cooled by the knowledge that she would not survive the night. He, with near-infinite care, turned Elys onto her side. Snapping the arrow just beyond the exit wound, he placed her body back where it had been, then yanked the arrow outwards, back through her body.
He wept for some time...then arms found their way around him. | 2016-04-28T02:41:16 | 2016-04-28T01:48:09 | 57 | 10 |
[WP] The story of an unsolved murder is brought up in an /r/AskReddit thread with several incorrect details. The murderer shows up to set the record straight. | >*Yeah, my aunt was killed by the guy in Nappa Valley. He caught her and her boyfriend star gazing right near Lake Berryessa and attacked them both, stabbing her to death (I think like 10 times) and him damn near to death too. My aunt's boyfriend lived though, told the police everything and I think he's attorney now in SoCal. Apparently the killer claimed to have been an escaped prisoner, had a get-up and everything - say what you want about the guy, but he was nothing short of through.
As he read the thread, he tinkered with a small bag of marbles in his left hand. He would sometimes scoff when he read things about him - at other times, he would squeeze the bag in anger, letting the small balls of glass push the blood out of fingers. He had not remained anonymous for so long by chance; it was because he was careful, patient, and level headed. Age was supposed to bring those things - but yet, he found himself becoming more of the opposite. Reckless. Impatient. Impulsive. Especially when it came to keeping the record straight; and boy, with his recent endeavors, did he have a hard time coming off as genuine in the midst of bold faced lies.
He typed his response slowly, re-read it, deleted it, and then typed it the exact same way again. He did this for about 15 minutes, back and forth. The same thing, over and over, not changing a single word. He remembered a too often quoted saying about insanity, which the internet intermittently attributed to Einstein or Lincoln. Finally, he posted it.
> This is what really happened: The killer didn't stab the girl. He stabbed the man, yes - wrapped him in clothing line, and stabbed him over and over while his gagged girl watched. Utterly helpless. It was as he bled that the killer looked the man in the eyes and asked him a single question: "Do you want to live to see tomorrow?". He nodded fervently, his face contorted in pain and something else, something the killer had known about for a long time - something that we all had, utterly inpalpable, but just below the surface.
> "Stab your girlfriend to death." The killer dropped the knife at his hand, untied him, and leveled his gun at the man. "Do it now." He said. And he did do it, tearfully, mouthing "I'm sorry" over and over, but her guttural choking behind the gag left it unheard. After he was done, the killer wrenched the knife from him and began to stab him again, but left him near enough to life.
> "Tell them exactly what you did...or don't. I don't mind. I'll be around." The killer whispered into his ear. He left him there, bleeding, and called it in a few towns over.
> And that is how it really happened. Posted by: TexasToast69 **Thread Title: Whatever happened to the Zodiac Killer?**
In his office, he read the post once over, letting it sit for exactly one minute before deleting it. It was as it should be. It was cathartic enough, and he felt as if he had fina-
"Senator, you have a call. Senator Mike Lee is on the line." The sound had come from his nearby phone.
Ted Cruz smiled. "Oh well..." He spoke aloud to himself. " Back to work."
| I know maybe it is not totally right, but I really dislike when people talks about things they don’t know in Internet. I mean; what the actual fuck is wrong with people? if you don’t know about something just don’t say anything about. I can handle those bigmouths. So usually I expend some of my free time doing one of the hardest jobs in the world: correcting wrong people in internet.
So when I saw that post in the FrontPage, and I realized it was about that sick murder case that happened in the same area where I’m living, I decided I should join in and start to downvote the shit out of everyone in there who was talking about it like if it was something big.
I remember that shit, it happened just two streets behind mine, and I also remember that day, I remember it really well because it was the same day I got a notification from my lawyer about me winning the trial against that fucking kid and his dad who sued me for killing their dog. The police found the body of the dude inside the waste container, it was fucking disgusting, all those cuts, hundreds of deep cuts, in the body, the face and the hands, and no blood at all anywhere, that poor fuck was totally drained before to be throw in the trash.
Looks like it was impossible to find the dude's identity and since no one was missing him they just closed the case, but of course the media did a big show about it.
And then I saw those comments in Reddit man, those morons talking about a kind of conspiracy shit, relating it to a big serial killer who was acting in the east coast some years ago. The top comment was a kind of mess with all those edits, keeping those fucks entertained for the sweet karma of the conspiracy, there was that user leading the shit, creating stories, imagining shit, talking how that killer was being investigated as a kind of dude who considered himself a fucking vigilante, come on, there is the fucking /r/conspiracy for that kind of shit.
So I did what I had to do and I join in the conversation and I make his fucking fantasy story more real, I explained how I got some psychology preparation before to work as a security guard, and I shared my experience and knowledge in some related cases and how that kind of killer is usually a kind of pussy with a trauma. No need to say, the dude got rekt, and people started to downvote his shit, more even when he was even bringing even more shit about the criminal profile of the supossed killer coming from nowhere.
It was so easy to make him shut the fuck up. Three comments later, I had my sweet karma and he deleted his comments. Hey not every day you make a top commenter delete his shit.
— So, it was a fucking good day bro! It was a fucking good day! I went to sleep so fucking happy and today I should be at the job instead of here, what the fuck dude, what’s wrong with you, what the fuck you want from me with all those questions, give me my fucking clothes.
The dude, with a silent smile in his face long until his both fucking ears, sitting in the fucking chair of my kitchen and after eating the fucking pizza I didn’t finish yesterday and drinking my dam beer and after questioning me about all those reddit shit, opened his black bag, and while was opening a kind of plastic case he said:
— You know what’s the worst part to talk shit to people in internet? Is that most of the time you have no fucking idea who they are, what they do or how they feel about what you say. And when you bring people to the limit even without a good reason for it you should be ready for the consequences. More even when in your comment history there is information about your home place, about your food habits, your favorite shops, your job, your personal relationships, your fetishes and your financial life. But even more when you are so idiot to publish your own face in a post about atheism, while you ask for legal help after to kill the dog of a kid who escaped because was peeing in your yard. And even more if you are so stupid to use the same photo that you published in reddit in your Facebook profile.
I could not say anything else, that sick fuck filled my mouth with a piece of cloth and with a scalpel in his hand came to me and said:
— Let’s talk about traumas and pussies.
| 2016-05-13T19:55:52 | 2016-05-13T09:47:15 | 28 | 10 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | I have the most beautiful wife in the world. She's the sunshine of my life, my other half. At first she wanted nothing to do with me, but I won her over with my charm. Sure, I'm 40 and she's 25, but I'm not a pedophile as some claim me to be. She's mature for her age, has a steady job, and we are moving out of our apartment in the city to the suburbs on our 15th anniversary next Wednesday. | Hello darling, I haven't heard from you in a while. I know it's been radio silence between us, but I really had to ask-
Do you still think about me?
I've begun to reminice about you more. Remembering all those little things you did for me, the pictures we drew together. I've gotten back into listening to our favourite songs. Sitting on the bus, watching the world go by, thinking about having you whisper sweet succulent nothings in my ear.
You might say I'm obsessed again.
We'd talk about being famous. You were willing to do anything, as long as it was with me. We'd become billionares through sheer luck. Cure the world. Start a band. Live a little, hell, live a lot.
I hope you still think of me that way. I know I left, but it was mostly my family's fault. You know how my grandma sides with your father's opinion of you. I still think you're amazing. I hope you know that.
My life has gotten so much more boring after you left. I go to work, I go home, I watch my dreams fade and die. I can't hold on to them with a single pair of hands. I miss you, my darling. I love you. I guess all I really mean to say is... I'm ready to sell my soul now. | 2016-05-19T11:50:39 | 2016-05-19T09:39:43 | 311 | 33 |
[WP] You've just invented time travel. You decide to go exactly 1 year into the future and speak to the first person you see, "Hey what day is it?" "364." "What do you mean 364?" "It's been 364 days since the incident. | "364."
"What do you mean, 364?"
"364 days since the incident."
These words... burned. Ached. My heart skipped a beat.
He couldn't be serious, but after *time traveling,* what disbelief could remain?
"Mind... uh, refreshing my memory? What incident?"
"If only I knew, pal. Govermment's got it on lockdown. They just refer to it as 'The Incident,' like we're in a shitty horror movie or something."
A solitary, ephemeral moment of relief. It must just be a coincidence. That's what I wanted to believe. Then he continued.
"All we've been told is it has something to do with time travel. Sounds like a big load of crap to me, but hey, whatever makes 'The Incident' sound all the more imposing, right?"
There's the pain again. This time more like the stabbing of tiny knives. The way he just passes it off, speaking more to himself than to me, an impossibly casual demeanor... There's no denying it now; I'm guilty.
"Uh... yea. Thanks."
I could barely muster any more than that. Panic starts to set in. I walk away slowly, and once I'm out of sight, quickly. Run. I start running. I couldn't tell you where my destination was if I tried, but it sure as hell isn't here.
My hometown never had a gate before. But that was because it didn't have walls.
A woman with short, jet-black hair stood by the gate, wearing something in between clothes and armor. She was unarmed, but that only made her more intimidating. She didn't need a weapon. You could tell.
At this point I froze. Rather, my mind froze. My heart froze. My feet, for whatever reason, did not freeze. I walked slowly towards the gate, and in my peripheral vision I could see her do a double take. Her face was unreal. Like she had just seen Bigfoot's pet unicorn.
"Excuse me, sir, I'm going to have to see your I.D."
I knew I was going to have to acknowledge her, one way or another. The gate was closed, for fucks sake! What did I expect?
I try to be as calm as possible. Running would only make this already terrible situation worse. I could only hope it was a coincidence. It wasn't.
"I'll be damned, you're the guy, huh?"
There was... no hostility in her voice.
"Please come with me, sir."
There was a distinct lack of handcuffs and headlocks. I still felt, of course, like I was in danger. I... followed her. I followed her and asked the dumbest of questions.
"Am... I being detained?"
The woman let out an extremely dry chuckle.
"No, no, of course not. We have a job for you."
*(TO BE CONTINUED??????)* |
My knees hit the concrete garage floor, displacing the dust into a thick, swarming cloud. A foreign shriek rang in my ears before a small hand clamped around my gaping mouth.
“Be quiet or they’ll find you.” A rough, female voice commanded. “You’re hurt…How did you get here?” She removed her hand and I began to sob quietly, rolling onto my side to take the weight off of my shattered kneecaps.
“This area is quarantined.” The woman took hold of my chin and examined my face. The whites of her eyes were apparent between her dirt feathered face and dark brown eyes. “You’re clean..” She stated accusingly.
I attempted to lift myself with my elbows and promptly vomited onto the floor.
“Hey..Hey, come on now..” She knelt down beside me and held a water bottle to my lips. “It’s a little irradiated but it’s not going to kill you.”
I sipped at the water, grateful as it seemed to seep along the drying canyons of my throat.
“What..day is it?” I asked her, almost breathless.
“364.” She answered, looking at her watch. “364 and 6.”
“What do you mean 364?”
“364 days since the incident.”
She helped to prop me up against the wall. It felt like lightening was firing in my legs. The garage door was partly retracted toward the ceiling, leaving a two foot gap. I could make out the base of my mailbox and the curb but the ground was dusted with sand.
“What incident?” I looked down at my hands which were balled tightly into fists, I unclenched one of them and saw that a polaroid photograph had cut into my palm. “Cute kid.” The woman smiled and took off her neck scarf to tie it around my hand. I put the photo into my trouser pocket.
“The three strikes?” She frowned, “Are you concussed?” She pulled my hair roughly and felt my scalp with her fingers. “You’re standing in her house and you have no clue who she is?”
I pulled away from her. “Please tell me what’s going on..”
“We have to get out of here…It’s not safe..The /soldiers/.” Her eyes washed over me from head to toe, a calculating look. “I can take you..But…Alright, I can take you.” She nodded. “364 days ago was the day the ‘Ghost attacks’ began on parliament. The Secretory of State lead a coup, using chemical weapons nobody had seen before…Took down the entire cabinet and directed a nuclear warhead at Russia. We’re dealing with the fallout of a projectile that was obliterated overhead in the atlantic.” She took me under my armpits, dragging me to the door that lead to the laundry room. I whimpered, watching my limp legs slide, the fabric blossoming with dark red blood.
“They call her the Ghost. She’s got a big following but I know what she really is.” She dragged me through my hall and through the kitchen. She took a couple of tins of food from my cupboard and put them in her backpack. “They take the weak and the strong off the streets. We’re like lab rats to them.” She spat, and took hold of me again. “This house? /Her house/…makes me sick.” She spat on the welcome mat and dragged me out of the door. "Day 365?...We call it day 0. Because we know something big is coming, and we'll have to start counting again." | 2016-06-30T10:01:58 | 2016-06-30T09:17:56 | 82 | 18 |
[Wp] The zombie epidemic came and went in the developed world, most people survived, the military easily defeated the undead horde, and cures for the virus were created. However, zombies remain major issue in the developing and under developed world not getting nearly enough attention on the news.
Wow I didn't think that this prompt would would end up this big. These stories made my night, thanks for all the replies and keep up the good work. | "It'll be $50 grand" said a tiny African man in worn out business suit.
"Excuse me? $50 Grand for what?
"That's for the standard Hunting licenses and fees." said the man, still blankly staring at his computer screen.
"Wait, I'm trying to help your country here. I'm trying to Helllll... P!"
"Yes yes... So are the other hundred or so Americans." he lifts up his head from the screen.
"You American's come here, saying you want to help... But you just want to shoot zombies. Yes?"
I didn't reply...
"We have zombies, you don't... So you come here claiming you want to help, but really, you just want to use that gun of yours. Go Rambo... Be the Terminator?"
"Your people are dying out there, right now!" as I gestured toward... I don't even know where to gesture toward.
"My people are always dying. Disease, wild animals, mosquitos, my government, the rebels.... Even by you, A-Mer-I-Cans... How are these zombies any different? " he said slowly.
"You want to kill? Be my guest. For $50 grand, you can kill as much as you want. Go home, a Hero. A saviour of us poor Africans." he stated as he handed me the forms.
"We'll provide a guide, food, transportation, and even a town for you to 'protect'... Have fun, and please come back."
| "It's a question of energy, Matthews." John slammed his fists onto the presidents desk.
"It's a question of death..." replied President Matthews calmly. He raised his eyes to meet the zealot's gleam of the younger man. The ticket has been a match of convenience, and how the former Senator from Colorado was deeply regretting that appeal to his party's base. "I will not-"
"It's a question of life. Our lives. Working people's lives. More energy means more things means a better life for all of us, all our kids."
"I understand the climate change argument, but..."
"To restrict warming below 2C we need to reduce energy consumption by 18%. That is not happening with an expanding developing world. It's simply not, Matthews! Do you know how many jobs we'd lose if we artificially reduce growth? Do you understand how many good hard-working blue-collar family's we'd hit? And after all that pain, we'd still be faced with declining incomes. More Americans in poverty. More American children in poverty. To save the planet either we reduce our consumption or their..."
"lives?"
"their access to Nato assistance ends."
"And the drugs?"
"Naturally we cannot allow that either. It's simply pragmatic to let the fire..." He moved away from the President towards the window his eyes skimming the e-mail he'd just received. "...run it's course," he trailed off.
He turned around, smiling - a wolfish, gleaming grin.
"It's God will after all."
"Is it? John, this ends. Now. This goes too far. Either you accommodate yourself to the policy of *my* administration or resign. "
"I expected that. You would never have the courage to act."
The president rose.
"What have you done?" Anger and sudden fear danced across his face. "Tell me, this instant!"
"We infected China with the accelerated version of the zombie virus we cooked up."
"We must warn then. We must save then."
"How? Save then, save the world and you face the rage of billions, not their gratitude. This is an act of war. Save China and for a certainty you start WW3, Matthews. It'll be nuclear. Nuclear. Do you really want to kill the world?"
Matthews fell back stunned.
"Or be it's savior?" John finished.
| 2016-10-30T15:52:15 | 2016-10-30T12:02:47 | 198 | 93 |
[WP] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story. | Harry: "Screw you, dad!"
Michael: "I'm sorry, Harry, I can't lie anymore. I'm not your dad."
Harry: "Oh my god, how could you do this to me and Jamie?! Why didn't you tell us?"
Michael: "Your dad told me not too."
Harry: "Who is it? Who's my dad?"
Michael: "Your mom. Your mom is your dad."
Harry: "W... what?"
Michael: "Your mom is your dad. And ... I'm your mom..."
Harry: "I'm so confused. What are you trying to say?"
Michael: "Oh also, Jamie isn't your brother. He's an alien."
Harry: "He's an alien?"
Michael: "Yes. And you're a dog so stop whining."
Harry: "Woof!"
The end | A meteor fell over the planet, then suddenly it exploded before the impact, revealing an army of naked winged women hellbent on taking over the world. they would do so by taking as many men (or women, if you prefer) to their bedchambers aboard a cosmic spaceship as was humanly possible.
shortly after the complete sexual subjugation of the human race, the young teenager woke up from his acid induced dream to find that it was in fact, all just a dream, he would later wake up again from his dream within a dream to find himself on his deathbed.
not one to be oneupped by death, he immediately willed himself better and proceeded to fly around and take out his pent up sexual frustrations on the world at large by shooting laser beams out of his eyes and destroying entire districts by bathing them in crimson eye flames.
just as things were looking grim however, godzilla showed up and the two battled for fifty straight weeks without rest, eventually godzilla was defeated.
but, as it turns out godzilla was just having an incredibly complex nightmare, soon he awoke at the bottom of the ocean floor, his body suffering from bruises and electrical scars, and glancing around, the first thought that crossed his mind was "SKKKREEEEEEEEOOOOOONK?!" which roughly translates into "where the hell did that giant monkey who force fed me a tree go? i swear to god one day I'll make him pay for this humiliation!!"
apparently being electrocuted and left to die on the ocean floor shortly after the climax of godzilla vs king kong makes you have extremely messed up dreams. | 2016-11-27T12:34:41 | 2016-11-27T11:06:12 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | The creepy laughter started right on time. Every night, at 11:56. Then, the walls started to bleed, up by the ceiling, near the elaborate crown moulding, running down the old wallpaper. I call it "dripping crimson on a field of posies."
That would be gone by morning.
Cue screaming and the sounds of someone being chased down the hall at 2:07. They'd come back in 38 minutes. I'm surprised he hasn't caught her yet. It's been months of this happening every night. That's "Freddie and Edith on their evening stroll."
At least the lamp only flew across the room that first night. I gave it a few days to fix itself and left the broken shards in a pile, but no. It would have been nice to have a light. But I had a kindle, so I could still read in the dark. Since it only happened once, I didn't call it anything but the pile was "ode to a lamp" before I swept it up. Now it's "don't walk barefoot in that corner because you might have missed some".
Ohhh...banging on the bedroom door! That's new. A nice change of pace. In ten minutes, the ghostly wolf would emerge through the closet door and pin me to the bed, menacing with dripping fangs. Man, he needed a breath mint. His breath smelled like sewer and dead fish and broccoli. "Mr. Stinky Breath", I call him.
Right on time, I hear the snarl and placed my kindle on the nightstand, holding my breath as his weight pins my arms to the mattress. I roll my eyes and try not to inhale.
In five days, when I'd stayed in the haunted house for exactly 4 months, I'd get my $1,000,000. Barney better pay up, or I'm gonna feed him to Mr. Stinky Breath or see if he wants to go on a stroll with Freddie and Edith. | Well, this is just perfect, isn't it?
The only hotel in the area, and it isn't on TripAdvisor. Damn it. I guess it'll have to do. Probably some cheap motel, or something like that.
Hey, this is actually really nice. A big Gothic mansion, with some ancient dead trees out in front. Those black flowers look.. meh, but it's surprisingly fine.
Okay. Floors are creaky, the old man in charge is creepy, and I think that's a black widow. I really don't care, this is the only place I can stay.
Damn it. Woke up in the middle of the night, have to use the bathroom, because my room doesn't come with an en-suite. The entire house is like a maze in the dark, I could swear the floor plan wasn't this confusing in the evening.
Hey! Light! Torches for mood lighting! Bathroom...satanic ritual. Alright, they can do their thing, and I'll do my thing. Wait, are those sacrifices? I'll have to call the cops when I get somewhere with cell phone reception.
Wait, is someone following me? Probably just my eyes seeing things, the moonlight shining through the cracks isn't bright enough for me to make out what's in front of me. Hey, it's that one guy I saw briefly on my way in! He's sleeping... in the hallway... in a puddle of something... and it almost looks like he is missing his brain and the back of his head. Probably just a trick of the light. H's probably drunk, and that dark stuff on the floor is probably whisky, or vomit.
Is that the owner? Why is he wandering the halls at 3 am? Did he just walk through that wall? Honestly, I'm too tired to care. I still haven't found an open bathroom, the last one looked like someone had committed suicide in it.
Oh, a bathroom! The light are even on, if flickering. Okay, wash my hands... is there someone behind me? Sorry, I just finished up here, just need to rinse... and done!
Huh. Could have sworn there was someone in the mirror behind me. Oh well, I just want to go back to bed.
Okay... found the reception. Someone seems to have boarded up the front door from the outside, probably because someone broke the glass and completely wrecked the area. It looks like it's been abandoned for the past hundred years, that's how badly wrecked everything is.
Why am I here, anyway? I don't remember going down any staircases... Doesn't matter. I remember my way from here.
Alright... now someone went and redecorated my room. Hope they didn't touch my stuff. I'm just too tired to care. It's 4 am. Guess I'm sleeping surrounded by claws tonight. Bye! | 2017-05-05T07:04:56 | 2017-05-05T05:53:53 | 530 | 392 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | Wow. Great.
I'm standing in the middle of the woods, with just my pijamas on.
I have no idea how I got here. It's cold, I'm tired, and I just want to go to bed. The only problem is, that I live in the middle of a large city, in a place, where even the nights are warm and the air is soft.
Here it's so cold, that my breath forms tiny clouds, and the air stings in my lungs.
I must be far away then.
I can't hear a sound. Not one. If we were near a city, I'd hear cars.
But that's not the strangest part. I can't even hear a bird, or the wind in the leaves.
Everything is so quiet. It's actually kind of nice.
Living in a large family, surrounded by a city that never sleeps, I actually never experienced silence. So I just close my eyes and ignore the cold.
As I open them again, I am looking straight into a face. Well, half of a face, as the man's left side is ripped right off, and the poor guy has a permanent half smile, due to the missing skin of his cheek.
I was pretty confused, as I didn't hear the half smile guy's footsteps, so I wonder, if I went deaf, so I scream the loudest "HELLO?" I've ever screamed.
I'm not deaf, although my voice doesn't echo.
The misshapen man jumps and looks confused. "Arren't you scared?" He asked a in a slurrend manner, while I watched his saliva , not held back by his lips, spray in the moonlight.
"Why should I? It's pretty realxing, actually." I said, while stretching out my arm to give him a handshake. "I'm Sasha"
The other half of his face started smiling too, and he looked genuenly happy.
"I'm Joe! I've been living here for the past 20 years, or maybe 40, who knows. People just randomly appear here, and I try to welcome them, but they always run away from me, for some strange kind of reason. I later find them, with their face chewed off. Probably by the crawling people around here. They have pretty sharp teeth."
I just stand there and nod time to time. As he tells me about things, I'm sure he just desperately wanted to tell someone else for years.
What a interesting place. Joe seems nice. Just the crawling woman, with the angriest face I've ever seen, coming nearer and nearer behind him, is a little distracting.
(Sorry about the english, I'm swiss)
| "Another day another dollar," Bob Saget whispers to himself after a long night of shooting his latest motion picture: Horror Directly Following Late Night Movie Shoots.
"You be safe now! Don't want any sort of horror scenario happening to you on the way home!" chuckles the director.
"What the fuck did I tell you about talking to me after hours?" says Bob, agitated. He saunters off set and hops in his El Camino. As he's driving down the long empty road from the remote set, he catches a glimpse of movement in his rear view mirror. "Fucking great," says Bob, "another fan hiding in the bed of my vehicle. Every fucking time." He reaches in to the glove box and pulls out his .44 magnum. "Ya feeling lucky, punk?" Bob narrates as he jumps out of the coupe/utility pick up vehicle. He circles around the back.
"What the shit is this?" Says Bob, taken aback by the sight of a gorilla in the bed of his truck, bandaging a wound on his leg. Bob tucks the pistol in to the waist band of his favorite slacks.
"Bob, we need your help," said the gorilla, "My name is Luke, the very same from the Bible. The Anti Christ has arrived, and you are the only one that can save humanity."
"For fuck's sake," growls Bob, "why me? Why the fuck are you a gorilla? Why can't I have one goddamn day where I can get home and soak in my Jacuzzi without any sort of urgent distractions?"
"We saw how you handled raising your family in Full House," explains Luke, "Clearly you are capable of anything. First things first, let's get in to town!"
Bob groans. But he knew what to do. This was all part of that goddamn prophecy told to him by the John Stamos on the last day of shooting Full House. "Ok Ubuntu," says Bob, "stay back here and I'll get your leg fixed up, I know a guy."
"My name is Luke, the saint from the Bible," interjects Luke.
"Do you want my help or not? Stay back here Harambe," barked Bob as he jumps back in to the driver's seat. They start traveling.
Bob pulls in to a dilapidated house in the middle of nowhere and hops out of the vehicle. "Alright come on," he tells Luke, "go to the front door there, and be quick about it." Luke hobbles his way the front door.
"I must explain to you the situat-"
"Don't explain shit to me, just open the goddamn door and go in," says Bob, infuriated, "I don't have time to deal with this bullshit, I'm a busy man." Luke pushes the door open. A scene of carnage awaits. Dozens of animal corpses are scattered throughout the room. They all have a saintly glow.
"Matthew? Mark? John? This is worse than I thought, the massacre has already begun!" lamented Luke.
"No shit," says Bob. He whips out his hand cannon and blasts all 6 rounds in to Luke's body. A single tear drops from Luke's eye as he collapses, sad at the sight of his butchered friends, frustrated that he was fooled so easily.
Bob closes the door behind him and starts heading home. "I seriously gotta cool it with that peyote," he says to himself, driving in to the sunrise.
| 2017-05-05T07:30:17 | 2017-05-05T07:10:06 | 118 | 21 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | It wasn't until the van door shut behind me that I realized my mistake. I guess the skin mask should have tipped me off.
It's getting so you can't trust anyone anymore.
We drove for a long time. I felt the road getting rockier. By the time he opened the door it was dark out.
He yanked me out by the arm, hard. He knocked me to the ground. It was dirt. It smelled like something. Pennies. No, of course not. Blood.
Great. As if I didn't have enough on my plate today.
He laughed then, a low, insane laugh. He pointed an ax at my throat.
"Really? An ax? Don't you think that's a little derivative?"
"You are not to speak," he said. "But feel free to scream." (A little too theatrical for my taste, to be honest.)
"Look, this is a really bad time for me. I think we might have to table this for now."
"I SAID YOU ARE NOT TO SP-"
He fell to the ground. The look of surprise almost made it all worth it. Humans are so easy.
He couldn't move now, but he could still hear me and see me. He could still feel. They taste so much better when they're afraid. It really adds something.
I started at his feet. Crunching the little bones. His eyes stared straight up, but I felt his shock, his terror and pain. Far more used to being predator than prey.
I took my time.
| ^"Is ^that ^Dave?"
The voice belonged to John. It was faint but I could just make out each word.
^"Oh ^my ^god, ^where?!"
This not-faint-enough voice belonged to Jen. I've always found her annoying, but today she's been the fucking worst.
^"There's ^a ^body ^hanging ^from ^that ^tree, ^it ^looks ^like ^Dave!"
I had only met Dave a few weeks ago. He seemed ok, but everyone seems ok at first.
^"Oh ^my ^god, ^oh ^my ^god. ^Where's ^Sarah?! ^Oh ^my ^god!"
Fucking Jen. I tried to close my eyes more than I already had, hoping to drown her out. It didn't work.
^"I ^don't ^know, ^she ^hasn't ^come ^back ^yet."
I had only met Sarah this morning, before we left for the trip. Dave's girlfriend. They had gone out to look for help after we found Michelle tied to a tree with her throat slit open.
Michelle *was* my girlfriend. At least until a few hours ago. I wonder if the new girl at work would go out with me. I should ask her on Monday.
^"Bro, ^what ^the ^fuck ^is **wrong with you?!"**
John ripped my headphones out. What a dick.
I could hear Jen panting, each breath with its own little wimper. Pathetic. I wish she had died first.
"Dude, what are you doing?"
I slowly panned the room, turning my attention from Jen to John.
"Dave and Michelle are dead! And probably Sarah, too!"
"Who is still alive?", I finally replied.
"Just the three of us. And maybe Sarah, we don't know."
"Ok"
"OK?! Ok what?! What the fuck, man?!"
"Let me know if anything changes."
"What the fuck do you ^mean?! ^Listen ^to ^me! ^Ok ^Jen, ^he ^isn't ^gonna ^help ^us. ^We ^just ^need ^to ^get ^out ^of ^here. ^Let's ^go."
I heard the faint squeaking of the door, followed by a slam.
I'm hungry, I hope there are still some of those chips left. | 2017-05-05T08:56:55 | 2017-05-05T08:05:56 | 41 | 12 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | This carnival was shit. The clowns looked stupid, the animals were boring, and even the food was awful. I don’t like carnivals to begin with, even as a kid, but at least the food was always good. Hot and greasy, covered in sugar or butter. But this food was stale and rotten. Shit, just shit.
When my boyfriend, Matt, asked if I wanted to go, I had said sure. I only said sure because I could see the childlike excitement. He was ridiculous sometimes, and I often thought of breaking up with him. The only reason I didn’t would be because my mom would give me a hard time about being single. It was easier to put up with Matt being a little kid.
So here we are at the carnival. Well here *I* am now. Matt disappeared a while ago, yelling something about conspiracies and death clowns. Something stupid. I told you he was stupid. I just waved my hand and took a sip from my pop. Even the pop was disgusting, all thick and syrupy with no carbonation. It had a salty sweet taste to it, and when I complained about it, the vendor just smiled widely and laughed. Laughed! In my face! I flipped them the bird and walked off. They didn’t even include ice.
I wandered around, ignoring the grinning clowns with the worst make-up I had ever seen. They weren’t even trying. Just a thick glob of red paint around their mouths and clinging to their teeth. Ugh, gross.
I walked into a tent labeled: **THE WOMAN WITH TWO HEADS**.
“This had better be good.” I grumbled. It wasn’t. Just more shit. The woman was sitting on a stool in the center of the tent with several grinning clowns surrounding her. She was pretty, but her hair was greasy and unkempt. She couldn’t even wash her hair. Gross. The stool spun around and another face was revealed. It was shriveled and disgusting, a horrible paper mache mask. Its mouth opened and gave a moan.
“You’ll die here.” The mask croaked. I rolled my eyes. Even the animatronics were shit. I turned around and left.
A crowd of clowns were standing in front of the tent as I walked out, they’re bad make-up annoying me. I pushed past them, shoving my almost empty cup of thick red pop into an overflowing trash can as I did.
“This carnival sucks! Tell Matt to meet me at the car.” I yelled as I walked out to my beat up old car, the only one in the dreary lot. This carnival was shit.
| "Another day another dollar," Bob Saget whispers to himself after a long night of shooting his latest motion picture: Horror Directly Following Late Night Movie Shoots.
"You be safe now! Don't want any sort of horror scenario happening to you on the way home!" chuckles the director.
"What the fuck did I tell you about talking to me after hours?" says Bob, agitated. He saunters off set and hops in his El Camino. As he's driving down the long empty road from the remote set, he catches a glimpse of movement in his rear view mirror. "Fucking great," says Bob, "another fan hiding in the bed of my vehicle. Every fucking time." He reaches in to the glove box and pulls out his .44 magnum. "Ya feeling lucky, punk?" Bob narrates as he jumps out of the coupe/utility pick up vehicle. He circles around the back.
"What the shit is this?" Says Bob, taken aback by the sight of a gorilla in the bed of his truck, bandaging a wound on his leg. Bob tucks the pistol in to the waist band of his favorite slacks.
"Bob, we need your help," said the gorilla, "My name is Luke, the very same from the Bible. The Anti Christ has arrived, and you are the only one that can save humanity."
"For fuck's sake," growls Bob, "why me? Why the fuck are you a gorilla? Why can't I have one goddamn day where I can get home and soak in my Jacuzzi without any sort of urgent distractions?"
"We saw how you handled raising your family in Full House," explains Luke, "Clearly you are capable of anything. First things first, let's get in to town!"
Bob groans. But he knew what to do. This was all part of that goddamn prophecy told to him by the John Stamos on the last day of shooting Full House. "Ok Ubuntu," says Bob, "stay back here and I'll get your leg fixed up, I know a guy."
"My name is Luke, the saint from the Bible," interjects Luke.
"Do you want my help or not? Stay back here Harambe," barked Bob as he jumps back in to the driver's seat. They start traveling.
Bob pulls in to a dilapidated house in the middle of nowhere and hops out of the vehicle. "Alright come on," he tells Luke, "go to the front door there, and be quick about it." Luke hobbles his way the front door.
"I must explain to you the situat-"
"Don't explain shit to me, just open the goddamn door and go in," says Bob, infuriated, "I don't have time to deal with this bullshit, I'm a busy man." Luke pushes the door open. A scene of carnage awaits. Dozens of animal corpses are scattered throughout the room. They all have a saintly glow.
"Matthew? Mark? John? This is worse than I thought, the massacre has already begun!" lamented Luke.
"No shit," says Bob. He whips out his hand cannon and blasts all 6 rounds in to Luke's body. A single tear drops from Luke's eye as he collapses, sad at the sight of his butchered friends, frustrated that he was fooled so easily.
Bob closes the door behind him and starts heading home. "I seriously gotta cool it with that peyote," he says to himself, driving in to the sunrise.
| 2017-05-05T07:15:00 | 2017-05-05T07:10:06 | 40 | 21 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | My name is Peter Thatch, and I've been trapped in a ghost town for 5 years, 4 months, and 22 days.
I wake up and check my phone. 6:30am. No signal, low battery, several ominous messages from an unknown number. Nothing new there, then. Wiping the crust from my eyes, I drag myself out of bed and make my way to the kitchen. A sickly groan interrupts me mid-yawn. I turn to find a young girl, pallid and frail, standing at the foot of my bed. A ragged dress conceals her gaunt frame, and her arm lies outstretched, a single scabby finger pointed at me. Haven't seen her before. I should probably name her.
The mornings in Wicker Hollow are a lot less exciting than you'd expect. In fact, I'd go so far as to say they're pretty peaceful. Sure, you get the odd Shoggoth herd, maybe a Wraith now and then, but nothing too troublesome. I rummage through the cupboards, looking for some breakfast. Conveniently, the shelves are always stocked in this place, if you can cope with the occasional severed limb. That used to get me in the first few months, but after realising there were no townspeople left to have their limbs severed, I figured there was no actual harm being done. I grab the cereal, pour myself a bowl, pick out the eyeball that's inevitably mixed in. After so many years, it becomes something of a ritual - just one of those things that you do, like jumping the bottom step.
Should probably get out of the house today. Tuesdays are the least apocalyptic days of the week. I throw on some clothes, brush my teeth, see another demon in the bathroom mirror, and leave for the day. Maybe I'll take the car. I hop in, and check the back seat. Another knife-wielding maniac. On second thoughts, perhaps I'll go for a walk. I make it a few streets before I stumble upon what seems to be a human corpse - or, to be more accurate, **half** a human corpse. His face is contorted in agony, and the word "RUN" seems to be hastily painted on the sidewalk in his own blood. Ugh, tourists.
I spend the day around town, doing all the things I've done for the past 5 years; Take advantage of the empty arcade, go bowling, grab a few DVDs from the rental store, et cetera. By the time I reach my street, it's already dark. In hindsight, I probably should've set off earlier, but at least I beat my high score on House of the Dead. I check my phone. 8:00pm. Things should be getting weird around this time.
Right on cue, the road parts with a deafening crack, and a few dozen molemen crawl out of the fissure. Molten lava begins to ooze from manholes, tentacles thicker than trees descend from the sky, tearing through buildings. Under my feet, a pentagram carves itself into the concrete, and the wails of tormented souls ring out through the crimson sky. I guess I *should* call it a day, to be fair. Several demonic hands rise from the glowing sigil, and I let them take me into the abyss.
I wake up, back in my home. The pale girl is stood at the foot of my bed, and my phone reads 6:30am.
My name is Peter Thatch, and I've been trapped in a ghost town for 5 years, 4 months, and 23 days. Maybe I'll go golfing today.
| The blood started the ooze down the wall where it was splashed in my frenzied killing of the mother. Her delicious screams still echoed in my mind, appeasing the voices that chattered at the edge of my skull. Sweat and the scent of her perfume teased my nostrils and I buried my face in her hair.
On the floor her husband's body lay spread eagle, open at the throat. I enjoyed his death far more because he fought back. I always like it when they fight.
The children huddled in the corner, their eyes wide with terror. They would live, but it wouldn't be a life for them. I would always be there in their dreams, in their dark corners and their back alleys. Eyes in the darkness, watching. Watching.
I heard footsteps downstairs. Heavy footsteps. I thought I'd gotten the adults.
A door opening, the clink of bottles and then a slam. A rustling bag and the hollow echoes of full cans bouncing off one another.
I took up my knife. There was still work to do. Father wouldn't be pleased leaving work undone. I stalked downstairs quietly, like he'd taught me. There was so much left to do now that I hadn't planned for.
I stalked through the main floor, my sense tingling with every step. I hunted. I crept and I crept, but no one was there.
Then I heard it. A voice from the basement. Light seeped out from under the door. Male, young. Teenager probably. Good. They put up a good fight. Father would be pleased.
I opened the door slowly and listened. It didn't seem like he heard me. I took the steps slowly, one at a time, so not to alert him.
The basement smelled. It smelled *bad*. Like the barn after a long winter when Father made me clean it with my hands for misbehaving. There was trash. Everywhere. Empty pizza boxes. Cans. Bottles. Bags of chips and candy. Dirty laundry and a pile of blankets.
*Who could live like this?* I wondered. Killing them would be a mercy.
I came upon him, clicking away on a keyboard. He was engrossed in what he was doing on his computer. Little figures flitted across the screen like ballet dancers. Or fighters. I liked fighting.
I watched. I watched longer than I should have. I couldn't comprehend it. This person, this young man, was sitting in his filth, completely ignorant of what I'd done. He hadn't heard anything, seen anything, *smelled* anything.
I realized too soon he was watching me.
"Yeah?"
I didn't understand he was talking to me right away.
"What do you want?" he asked, annoyed.
"I...I...I..." I stammered. I thought Father had beaten that out of me. Now it came rushing back.
"I'm too busy fucking people up to deal with this." He turned back around and went back to his game.
"I'm here...I'm here because Father sent me," I finally blurted, "he sent me to punish your family."
Not even turning around, he waved his hand dismissively behind him.
"DON'T CARE!"
"But...but...but.." I couldn't understand it. This person, this manchild, wasn't afraid. He didn't even seem to be concerned that I was there.
"I. DON'T. CARE."
"But your parents.....I killed them..." I was at a loss, words tumbling from my slack mouth.
"DOOOOOOOOOOOOON'T CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARE!"
"PAY ATTENTION TO ME!" I bellowed. I made him flinch. It looked like his figure on the screen had died. I got excited.
He slammed his hands down on the desk and turned around angrily. Suddenly I was not excited.
"DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE YOU IDIOT?! I'M DEAD NOW AND I'M NO WHERE NEAR A RESURRECTION SITE. THERE'S NO HEALERS IN MY PARTY AND I HAD AN EPIC ITEM. I LOST IT NOW. GO AWAY." He turned back around in a huff.
"I'm sorry," I looked at my feet, ashamed and embarrassed, "I....I'll go now."
I went upstairs and walked out the door to my truck. That night still haunts me. I'm not sure what ever happened to him, but that kid in that basement is still with me in my dark corners. He stares at me out of the dark. I hear his voice whispering to me...
"dooooooooon't caaaaaaare".
| 2017-05-05T09:48:59 | 2017-05-05T09:18:35 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] They reworked the justice system. Now, in each cell there is a piano, and convicts are released after performing a song perfectly. Lesser criminals are assigned simple melodies, while the worst get full concertos. You've been a concert pianist your whole life. | At first I robbed a grocery store and played my "Three Blind Mice"
And when I egged a blind man's house I made that Bach sound nice.
They started getting suspicious when I made my big score
I robbed a bank and breezed right through Sonata 24.
I stole, I lied, I fought, I killed, I lived a madman's dream.
By Canon in D and Clair de lune and Fur Elise redeemed.
But my last crime, I do regret- it ruined all my plans
The owner of the purse I stole made sure to break my hands | "Harold, you've been charged with torturing and murdering a man in cold blood. How do you plead?"
Harold looked up at the judge, feeling a hundred eyes burning into him. It felt like his entire life was leading up to this moment.
"Guilty as hell, your honor."
The jury immediately reacted, murmuring to each other, but Harold maintained his composure.
"I killed the man who killed my father. That's all the justice I sought for," Harold said with conviction.
The judge stared at him.
"You are aware that we have reworked the justice system?"
"I am aware, yes."
"For such a despicable act, one that you clearly have no remorse for, I have assigned you concerto 16 by Harry King," the judge continued, and the courtroom gasped.
It was a remarkably intricate piece, and few people could ever hope to have the skill to play it. To give a man that song was to put him in prison for the rest of his life.
"Have you heard the piece before?" the judge queried.
Harold smiled.
"I am quite familiar with it, your honor," Harold King replied, cracking his fingers and sitting down at the piano.
*"My father wrote it."*
*****
*****
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I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | 2017-05-17T23:42:52 | 2017-05-17T23:27:06 | 2,153 | 1,195 |
[WP] Write the happiest story you can think of and completely destroy the atmosphere with a plot twist in the final sentence. | I never thought heaven would be like this– it's strange, really. Glorious, but strange. Like listening to a song so good you never thought it could have existed. I expected something completely different. You see, I was raised a Catholic, and a good one at that, and had always imagined heaven to he something like a giant golden city on a new and glorious earth. I hadn't really thought about it that much, to be honest.
I died about 2 weeks ago in a car accident along with three of my friends from high school. We were just getting back from a track meet when we got T-boned by a semi on the intersection of Janus Road and 125. Not very pleasant, I know. They weren't raised good Catholics, so I'm not surprised they're not here with me. In all honesty I never liked them very much. Still, who knows what hell is like with heaven being this different?
If you've wondered about the transition from life to the afterlife, let me describe it to you the best I can– after the accident, things went dark. I'm not clear on my theology but maybe this is the part where I wait for Jesus to come back along with all the other dead people on earth? Or maybe it's just an intermediary stage? Something everybody gets?
I woke up looking at something like the sun– a huge, distant circle of white light suspended in a dark sky. The air crackled around me. I couldn't move a muscle as a buzzing sound drew me to the light. I genuinely hoped heaven was clearer, I really couldn't see much. But my fears were calmed.
Next thing I knew, I was in a silky white room, pure white, like the most beautiful pearl you'e ever seen. The walls were softer than baby skin. A glorious sound, like a distant choir, rang throughout it– and I was filled with the most powerful joy I had ever felt in my life. It flowed through me like a new kind of blood.
Time became irrelevant. This joy was incomprehensible. For those of you still bound to the earth, heaven is– indescribably joyful and wonderful.
Sometimes, an angel (majestic creatures, like illuminated supermodels garbed in the most delicate of sky blue) would come to show me visions of my family back alive. They were struggling, crying. I could see my mother and my father, arm in arm, mourning my loss. They even spoke to me.
But I had the most glorious news for them– heaven was only a few years away, and trust me, it was well worth the wait.
—
Found written on the walls of Room 218, Byron T. McMannis Long-Term Care Facility and Psychiatric Facility, June 8th, 2007.
Patient reverted into catatonic state after 20 days of confinement. Life support pulled June 21st, 2007 at request of legal guardianship of patient, Harry Silvers.
Patient experienced catastrophic brain damage per a car accident on May 3rd, 2007. Surgery unsuccessful.
| Billy the pretty pink pony skipped down Rosemary Lane, stopping only to sniff the brightly coloured flowers in the hedges, or watch the butterflies fluttering through the air.
It was a beautiful day – the sun was shining, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the birds were singing in the trees – and Billy was on his way to town. It was market day, and he was going to see what he could trade the vegetables from his vegetable garden for.
He was getting close to town when he heard someone call out his name.
“Billy!” the voice was saying from the side of the road.
Billy stopped in his tracks and peered at the hedge. Perched there on a branch was Mr Fluffkin, the red squirrel.
“Hello there, Mr Fluffkin,” Billy said with a smile. “How are you?”
“I’m absolutely terrific,” the squirrel replied. “And where are you off to on this fine day?”
“I’m off to the market,” Billy replied, nodding towards the basket balanced on his back, which was piled high with potatoes, carrots, aubergines, and more.
“How about you?”
“Why, I’m heading there too,” Mr Fluffkin replied.
“I don’t suppose you’d like a lift?” asked Billy. “It’s always better to travel together, after all.”
Mr Fluffkin beamed. “Well, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all. Hop on,” Billy said.
The squirrel scampered up Billy’s leg and, once he’d made himself comfortable on Billy’s head, they set off.
It didn’t take long for them to reach town, and the place was bustling – it was market day, after all, and creatures had come here from far and wide. Billy trotted along the streets, heading for the square in the middle of town, saying hello to all the creatures he knew as he passed them by. Every kind of creature imaginable was there – foxes and badgers, elephants and voles, leopards and rabbits. Just no humans, of course.
The town square was lined with stalls, selling everything from freshly-baked pies to toys for the little ones. Billy and Mr Fluffkin parted ways soon after they arrived – Mr Fluffkin said he was looking to buy a new jacket for himself, while Billy was hoping to get some ribbons for his glittery mane.
Billy was bartering with Barbara the ocelot, trying to swap some of his vegetables for a slice of her apple pie, when he heard a loud, high-pitched scream.
“The humans are coming!” someone yelled from the other side of the square.
Panic ensued. Everywhere Billy looked, animals were wailing and running back and forth, knocking over stalls and pushing each other to the floor.
Billy sighed. It had been hundreds of years since humans had been the dominant species, but somehow they were still clinging on. And they always insisted on doing what they’d always done – attacking the other animals, ruining things for everyone else.
Billy reached back to grab his basket, and put it down on the cobbles. It was time to do something. He charged across the square, darting through the crowd and jumping over the wreckage of stalls when he had to. Eventually, he saw a crowd of humans gathered around some dead animals and cheering. Billy gasped when he saw Mr Fluffkin sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood.
There was a sound behind him, and Billy spun round. He saw a man there, dressed in rags and holding a rusty knife in one hand. The man smiled and raised the knife above his head, but Billy acted fast.
With a snarl, he bared his teeth and sank his teeth into the man’s neck, tasting the warm, coppery blood. The man collapsed in a heap, a chunk of flesh still in Billy’s mouth. He gulped it down, licked his lips, and turned to the rest of the humans.
He had a taste for blood - they were next. | 2017-05-25T05:14:49 | 2017-05-25T00:29:16 | 523 | 63 |
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